#lino fanfic

[moni-logues]

For the angst prompts - I’m curious what you’d write for “no one else to turn to” with Lino 👀

thank you, sunny!!!! This one is honestly not even that angsty? Sort of?? idk man, it's pretty different for me, too, but here we are

Pairing: Lee Know x reader (afab)

Genre: angst, smut

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: You come knocking in the middle of the night and Minho drops everything.

Content: not very explicit smut, major character death (offscreen)

A/N: It's Angstober baby!! The idea for this came from a post (HUGE SPOILER WARNING IF YOU CLICK THIS LINK) and the vibes are (judging by that post and knowing nothing else about whatever that piece of media is) pretty different lol but credit for inspiration where it is due!!! thank you to @violetsiren90 for beta-ing and for the title!!!

Remains

The knocking invaded his dream. He heard it first as if it were outside, but the sound shifted and he realised it was him. His fists hitting against satin-covered wood. 

It came to him slowly, even as he continued to knock: he was lying, not standing, punching upwards, not outwards. He experimented, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, then opening them wide, but it made no difference: pitch black.  

Knowledge floated gradually to the surface of his mind. It was a coffin. His coffin. Buried alive. 

He woke with a start, feeling himself haunted as the knocking persisted. He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, and got up to pace, breathing carefully. The knocking didn’t stop.  

It came from further away than in his dream. It wasn’t his fists on wood. It was someone else’s, pounding at his door. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he froze in place as a shudder ran up his spine.  

‘It was just a dream,’ he muttered to himself.  

He heard the knocking when he was asleep and it showed up in his dream. He often dreamt of dying. With a sharp exhale and a roll of his shoulders, he told himself there was nothing funny going on. Logic made everything slot neatly into place.  

He made his way down the stairs and put his eye to the peephole. No sooner had his eye focused than he pulled away in shock.  

You. 

He hadn’t seen you for, what, five years? Maybe more. The last he’d heard you were down under—not sure if it was permanent or travel. He wondered when you’d got back.  

Then he wondered why you were hammering down his door in the middle of the night. He unlocked it and pulled it open.  

“Minho!” 

You collapsed into the hallway, panting, grabbing his door and shutting it for him. You leant against it, head tipped back, chest heaving.  

“Are you ok?” Minho asked, his voice croaky from sleep.  

You shook your head but offered no more answer than that. He waited, useless in his pyjamas, in his shock, still trying to shake away the sleep, shake away the nightmare. 

* 

“I had no one else to turn to,” you said eventually, your voice high, tight, wobbling over the words.  

When you turned to him, he thought you looked like prey: trapped, whites of their eyes showing, the way their whole bodies moved with each heaving breath.  

He nodded and offered you a hand. When you took it, a zap of electricity ran through his arm, made his heart trip over its beat. He pulled it away, reflexively, and had to offer it again.  

Your hand was ice-cold, and he could feel your fingers trembling as you pulled on it, using his weight to help you stand.  

He moved on autopilot, first to the living room, where he gestured you onto the sofa, then to the kitchen, where you followed him. He filled the kettle with water, clicked it on, took two mugs from the cupboard and dropped a teabag into each. The kettle filled the room with steam, with the gentle noise of bubbling water. You didn't speak and neither did he. He didn’t know where to start, hoped that you would. Hoped that there was some reasonable explanation for your presence here. For your sudden return into his life. For his being the only one you could turn to. 

* 

There had been a time before when he was the one you turned to. You had other options, but you chose him. He chose you.  

It wasn’t remarkable, really. You met, you liked each other, you fell in love. You were happy. Life got in the way: your paths diverged. Minho made plans and you made other ones. It happened every day. You were young. Everyone met their first heartbreak at some time or other. Everyone got over it. Minho did and you did, too. That was his story—his and yours, until it was just his.  

Now you were in his kitchen. No bad blood between you, just time and space. Less space now than there had been ten minutes ago.  

* 

“I need your help,” you said plainly, before lowering your eyes and taking a sip of tea.  

“Ok,” Minho replied, because what else could he say?  

“I’m sorry to show up out of the blue like this. Middle of the night and everything,” you went on. “But I really don’t have anyone else to turn to. It has to be you.” 

He nodded and didn’t ask why. It was his first time seeing you since the break-up, since the day you moved the last of your stuff out of the apartment you’d shared together; he wasn’t in the right mindset to be asking questions yet.  

He looked at you as you kept your gaze downcast, his eyes roving your body, scanning for differences, for similarities, for signs. You still looked like you though you’d cut your hair short. Still moved like you. Still spoke like you. Half of his mind told him he was still dreaming because you showing up like this just wouldn’t happen.  

He had hoped it would after the break-up. He hoped you’d show up on the front door step one day and say ‘it was all a mistake. I want to stay’. Hoped you’d change your mind and want what he wanted. You never did. That was normal, he told himself. Break-ups were hard; even though yours was technically mutual, it didn’t really mean he wanted it. What he wanted was you, forever, the life he had planned for you both. Everything falling neatly into place. Then you left him. 

Now it was five years later and you’d finally done the thing he used to dream you’d do; you’d returned, in some sort of way.  

He didn’t feel how he might have expected. He had expected to feel very little. If he saw you again, he always told himself, it would just be like seeing an old friend. Comforting, but unremarkable. It would be nice, he thought. Nice was the very word for it: bland, pleasant.  

This was neither. He still had goosebumps over his skin, hairs pricked on his neck. His stomach was somewhere near his feet, and he felt unweighted, unstable, ungrounded. There was an ache that began somewhere in the hole his stomach left behind; it travelled the full length of his body, out to the tips of his fingers. Made them twitch like he wanted to reach for you. Like your body was calling to his. Like there was a hole inside him he hadn’t known was there but now it was growing, more and more of himself disappearing inside it. It called for you. Told him to touch you. Told him to hold you.  

If this was what running into an ex felt like, he thought, he was glad it had never happened before. He was glad it was happening now under cover of darkness, in the privacy of his own house.  

Powerless to it, he placed his tea on the counter and moved towards you. Encircled your body with his arms, pulled you closer. He felt you relax into him, the weight of you pressing against him, felt your eyelashes on his neck as you blinked. Felt an all-too-familiar tug. He whispered your name, a question silently hanging from the end of it; you whispered his back, your silent answer following it.  

When he kissed you, his brain told him he was being stupid. Ridiculous, even. His brain said this was categorically the last thing the two of you should be doing. There were too many unknowns here, too many questions to ask. His brain started listing them.  

Too bad for his brain that Minho had turned the volume down, all the way. He wasn’t thinking, just feeling. More than he’d ever expected to.  

You were different, just slightly. Tasted different, felt a little different, kissed a little different. It made him miss you. Made him ache in his guts for all the kisses he didn’t get, all the years you’d been apart. 

He was over you. Totally. Completely. Didn’t think about you at all unless prompted. Didn’t hurt, didn’t pine, didn’t wonder what might have been. But now that you were in his arms, your lips against his and arms around his neck, there was nothing but you.  

You and him in the middle of the night, in the house that he’d moved to last year, that you’d never seen before but somehow fit right into. You and him: your tongue and his mouth, your skin and his hands, your heart and his, beating towards each other as though no time had passed.  

He moved his lips to your cheek, your neck, that one spot that always made you- 

“Minho,” you gasped, neck tilting to give him better access.  

You pulled your fingers through his hair, raked your short nails against his scalp. He shivered, pulled you closer, tighter.  

* 

“Did you come here for that?” he asked, eventually.  

You lay, side by side, in his bed, naked and spent, as the first shades of grey woke the night from darkness.  

He wasn’t sure if he was joking. Wasn’t sure of anything. His brain had found its voice and questions swirled in his mind. He wasn’t sure that was the best one to start with.  

“No,” you replied, voice small.  

“You said you had no one else to turn to.” 

You turned onto your side to face him, curling yourself into a tight ball, fist in the sheets pulled up to your chin.  

“I don’t.” 

“Why?” 

There was that look again: prey. Trapped. Afraid. You were safe with him, he wanted you to know, didn’t want to have to say it. He thought you must already know. There was a reason you came to him. Him. No one else.  

“You have to help me.” 

A spark of frustration lit through him. Wasn’t it obvious that he would? If not when you showed up here, then now, at least? Wasn’t that why you came? You knew he would. He would without you having to ask.  

“With what?” 

* 

You didn’t tell him. Not that night. Not in the morning after he'd caught a few hours’ sleep. Not even when you asked him to pack a bag and go somewhere with him.  

He followed anyway. Did what you asked because you asked it. Because you had history. Because he had loved you once; you had loved him. Because something told him he had to. He filed a few days’ emergency leave at work and didn’t say why. Dropped the cat off at a friend’s house. Left town with you late that morning, him in the driver’s seat and you telling him where to go.  

* 

You had been keen to put distance between yourself and your hometown, so the sun was dipping before you made your first stop. Minho bought burgers and you bought coffees. You sat in his car and he ate while you merely stared at your food.  

Minho’s frustration was fizzing inside him because you still wouldn’t tell him. Had barely uttered a word other than directions since you got in the car. You had sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat, alert and wary, instructions shot from your mouth like bullets, until he had made it out of town, onto the motorway. Then you had fallen back, resting with your eyes out of the window, letting Minho follow the road as far as it would go.  

His brain tried to fill in the gaps for him. What might you be running from. Who. Why he was the only person who could help. Perhaps, he thought, somewhere around hour three of the drive, he was the only person stupid enough to fall for this. The only person who would drop everything like this without even being given a reason to.  

* 

You reached the end of the earth just as the sun disappeared. Minho pulled off to the side of the road, turned off the car, and waited.  

“There’s literally no more road,” he said after minutes had passed in silence. “Unless you want us to turn right back around and head north.” 

“I think...” you began, faintly, your voice trailing off. 

You appeared to actually be thinking, so Minho let you. Waited some more. You sighed heavily. 

“I think let’s just find somewhere to stay tonight.” 

Minho shuffled in his seat and turned the key in the ignition. Without another word from either of you, he indicated and pulled back onto the road, eyes scanning the roadside, looking for vacancies. 

* 

“I’m sorry,” you said, lying on your side again, in the bed next to his.  

The motel was cheap but it was clean. It had a faintly damp, musty sort of smell to it; had a worn look like it was as tired as Minho felt. It was the first place he had found that had spare rooms, that wouldn’t break the bank; you had been vacant when he asked if it was ok, vacant still when he unlocked the room and let you both inside.  

Now, you were here, looking at him from across the ocean between you.  

“It’s ok,” he replied, not sure if it really was.  

“I can’t go back,” you continued.  

“Back where?” 

“Anywhere.” 

“So where do we go from here?” 

You turned onto your back. He let the subject drop. 

* 

He didn’t sleep easily that night. Berating himself. Sometimes for being so foolish, for letting you lead him on a merry chase, to what? Away from what? Anything? Nothing? Why was he content to let you dismantle his life: his routines, his structure, all his plans, when you gave him no reason? No reason other than that you needed him. 

Other times, for not doing enough. For not getting it out of you what had happened, for not seeking retribution, for not saving you before it happened, for not saving you now.  

“Are you awake?” 

Your voice sounded miles away.  

“Yes.” 

“I’m cold. Are you cold?” 

“Come here.” 

Minho slid over, held up the covers for you to sneak under. Wrapped his arms around you: you were cold to the touch. Didn’t know what he was doing until he was kissing you.  

It was the only time he felt grounded. You had knocked on his door—was it really just last night?—and sent his whole life spinning. It didn’t feel real. Couldn’t have been real for you to just show up in his life again and drag him into this wild goose chase, or wild escape, or whatever it was. It wasn’t real until your lips were on his. 

Then it was all too real. Your skin too soft even though it was still cold. Your mouth too sweet. Your fingers around his cock gentle and teasing until they weren’t. The clutch of your tight, slick cunt better than he could remember. 

He was over you. Had no feelings for you. Had had relationships since your break-up. The break-up was mutual. It was history, water under the bridge... But you were there and in his bed and wild horses couldn’t have kept him on his side, couldn’t have kept him from you, nor you from him. Something inside him awoke when you were there, touching him, kissing him. Awoke and wouldn’t be put down, wouldn’t retreat. Wouldn’t let him do anything but attend to you, love you like he had never loved you before. 

And it felt mutual. Did more than just feel it. Minho knew. It was the same for you. There was a reason you came to him, a reason you kept coming. As he moved inside you, every thrust of his hips knocked it nearer, this thing, whatever it was. This thread pulled tighter, these playing pieces moved closer. He felt, more so even than when you were together, that this was where you were meant to be, where he was meant to be.  

It was intense and slow until it was urgent and fast. It was soft and sweet until you were scratching at him, until his teeth sank into your flesh. It was the best sex he’d ever had over and over, until he had nothing left, nothing else to give.  

“Minho,” you called, voice soft as a whisper.  

“What is it?” he asked, just as soft, hand gentle against your face, nose nudging yours.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” 

“Dragging you into this-” 

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he repeated, pressing his lips to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “It’s ok. It’ll be ok.” 

And he was too full of you to notice the sinkhole in his stomach opening, the nagging in the back of his mind, the slight tilt to the world that made his footing unstable.  

* 

The next morning, you handed him your phone with a location marked. It was a couple of hours away, northward but east. He didn’t know the area. 

You were silent again, somehow further away today than you had been the day before. He kept a hand on yours while he drove, desperate to keep you here, ground you, stop you from disappearing altogether somehow.  

In the harsh light of day, he felt the instability—his, yours, both. He saw everything a little off-centre. That nagging feeling was worming its way forward. He tried not to give in to it. Not to ask questions. Questions he didn’t want to know the answers to. He didn’t want to ask anymore. He wanted to follow you. He'd follow you anywhere. Off a cliff. To the bottom of the ocean.  

He wanted to know that you felt the same. Thought you did. Felt it when he was with you in the middle of the night; felt it fade under the sun.  

Given a thousand guesses, he wouldn’t have predicted this, but nothing felt more right to him now. You were right: to come to him, to ask him to help, to think that he would, that he could. He could. He was right, all those years ago, when he’d asked you not to leave; he could see that now. 

* 

Minho crawled to a stop beside woodland. The location was still a mile or so off, but the road had ended.  

“On foot?” he asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.  

You nodded, more absent than ever. He had to walk to the passenger side, open your door, help your fumbling fingers unbuckle, steady your feet on the cold, hard earth. 

He kept your hand in his as you walked, your phone in the other, a blue dot highlighting your position, a red dot highlighting your destination.  

It wasn’t easy going; there was no real path in this wood and roots crossed each other, arcing out of the soil like snakes and diving back in. The trees were closely packed and Minho began to feel a little claustrophobic, a little trapped, stuck in shoes that weren’t intended for this kind of terrain. With both his hands busy, he had nothing to steady himself with, no recourse if he tripped.  

Which he did, stumbling over a broken branch, tripping on the next, falling a few feet away, your phone flying in one direction and he in another. He dropped your hand and his palm met the earth with a crack and a shooting pain up his arm.  

When he had righted himself, he looked for you and found you nowhere to be seen. He called for you but the trees bounced his voice right back to him.  

A wave of panic engulfed him and he crawled, climbed, pulled his way through the trees looking for you, calling for you. He wasn’t sure where he was going—backwards or forwards, in the right or wrong direction. He had lost his orientation and your phone.  

He called for you louder and louder, at the top of his lungs, until they were burning; he staggered through the woods in what he hoped were circles, wider and wider, never catching so much of a glimpse.  

Then. 

A trick of the light? The way it filtered through the tree branches was unnatural. It could be nothing. He followed it, this glint, this reflecting sunbeam, this clue. He sank to his knees in recently disturbed earth when he reached it. He started digging.  

He dug with his bare hands, on his knees, alone. He scraped at the mud, mounds of it piling up on either side of him. It was madness, his brain said, muted and ignored. This is madness; this is crazy. What are you doing? Why?  

Then his fingernails scraped something that was not mud. Softer and more solid. He moved the ground, scooting backwards as he unearthed this thing. This- 

He turned and retched violently, his stomach pouring itself onto the ground, bile burning his throat and his nose, eyes streaming with it. His horror screamed at him to run but he couldn’t. He was trapped, breath coming fast, panicked, panting, every hair on his body raised. With shaking hands, he unburied you: bloated and mottled and wrong, wrong, wrong, but you.  

You, dead in the earth, but weren’t you just there, alive and with him? Weren’t you minutes ago, there in his hand? Weren’t you, hours ago, in his arms? Hadn’t you come to him for help? 

He realised then. That he’d failed you. That you’d come to him and he’d come for you too late. Too late to save you. Too late to find anything here but your corpse. 

And it all came racing in. Flooding back. Everything he should have done. Everything he should have said. Everything he had blocked out, forced himself to forget. Every night he spent crying himself to sleep when you left. Every time he told himself he was fine when he wasn’t. Every time he looked up from his desk and wondered where you were and whether or not he should’ve been with you. Every night alone. Every partner that wasn’t you, could never be you, could never fill in all the holes your absence had made.  

It was him. It was him you chose. You came to him and he knew what it meant, knew that he was right. He never should have let you walk away. He should have followed you to the ends of the earth, on his knees, on his stomach.  

He knew but it was too late. Way too late.  

* * *

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Begging | Lee Minho

Pairing: Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023, College AU

Summary: A drunken encounter with a friend at a frat party leads to a possessive side of Minho that you never expected to see

WC: 2.8k

Warnings: heavy dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!Minho, jealousy, alcohol consumption, name calling (whore, slut), sir/master kink, reader is called kitten, spanking, fingering, implications of subspace, feelings, mild exhibitionism if you squint

A/N: I'm actually like,,,,really proud of this one so please please let me know what you think and maybe give it a reblog if you're feeling generous?

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha / @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

It was a dumb idea, you knew that when you decided to do it, but you were never one to pass up on a good time. A party at the boys' was always a good time. So you had dressed yourself up with your girls, making the walk across campus to the looming frat house in front of you.

The music was spilling out onto the lawn alongside the chatting partygoers needing a break from the heat and noise of the inside. Among them you found Jeongin laughing with Beomgyu as the latter told him some story that necessitated wild gesturing and amusing facials. You waved as you made your way past into the house with Goeun following close behind you.

The warmth of the house hit you first, making goosebumps rise on your exposed arms, then the smell of alcohol and weed and the general musk of sweat that came with too many people cooped up in too few rooms hit and you scrunched up your nose. You'd adjust, but that was always the worst part of the party in your opinion.

The music was loud, the bass booming through your chest and leaving you feeling a little disconnected from reality, washing out the hum of conversations around you as you weaved in and out of the crowd, searching for one of the boys, or maybe a drink you could get yourself going with. Luckily for you, you found both of those things at the same time.

"You came! Good to see you," Chan said with a grin, pulling you into a hug before turning around and pouring a couple of different drinks into a cup and pressing it into your hand. "Minho should be around here somewhere, he's probably looking for you."

He poured his own drink while you took a sip of yours, scrunching up your nose.

"What the hell even is this?" You asked him, moving past him to pour more fruit punch into the cup to mask the brick wall that was the amount of alcohol in it. Chan laughed, taking a drink of his.

"Jisung's newest concoction. He says it doesn't leave you hungover. We'll see about that in the morning." He said. You laughed, shifting out of the way as more partygoers came in to find their drinks.

Chan was actually the first of the frat members that you'd met. He had tutored you in one of your classes, inviting you to the end of semester shindig they'd thrown. Which was where you met the others. Where you'd met Lee Minho.

Minho was your best friend at this point, the two of you fitting together in a way that you hadn't known you could fit with someone. He was smart, and funny, and just weird enough to take you by surprise over and over again. People had their preconceived notions about him, and you couldn't begin to understand where they came from. But what was more, that party was the first time you'd slept with Minho.

It had been some drunken encounter, the two of you kissing on a dare, and finding that you really weren't so against kissing each other. Or touching each other. Or fucking each other absolutely dumb. But it had never been weird after that, there was no real reason for it to be as you moved on with your lives as close friends, turning to each other when you wanted to relax. Sometimes that would mean going to the arcade, and sometimes that meant ending up in his bed and getting knowing looks from his brothers the next day.

Everyone knew about your arrangement, it wasn't something that either of you thought to keep a secret. That was sort of immature in your opinion, acting like grown adults couldn't have sex and still be normal about it. As if everything in a relationship boiled down to your knowledge of each other's bodies. And, most importantly, you weren't exclusive. The two of you had slept with other people, albeit rarely and - in your case at least - with very little satisfaction.

So it wasn't blasphemous for you to be dancing with Chan after that drink kicked in, even if he was a little more bold than he would usually be. His giggle in your ear when you played with his hair sent tingles down your spine, and the music drove the two of you to press closer. You had just been talking really, sharing stories about your past few months and the break that the two of you had both gone home for. You couldn't exactly remember how his hands ended up on your hips, or how your back was turned to him, arms snaking up around his shoulders as you looked at him over your shoulders,

The part you remembered the least, however, was winding up in Minho's bed, waking up with a raging headache and the lights boring into your still closed eyes. You groaned, rolling over and burying your face in the pillow only to hear Minho clear his throat.

"Wake up. I brought you water. And advil." He said, tossing the bottle of painkillers at you. His voice was sharper than you were used to, or maybe that was just the hangover. You made a mental note to tell Jisung that he was a bitch ass liar next time you saw him. 

"You're good to me." You praised. He hummed, sitting on the edge of the bed and passing you the glass of water. You took a long swallow, sighing out in relief of the way that it eased the dryness in your throat.

"Have fun last night?" He asked. You closed your eyes.

"I think so? Must have cuz I don't think I remember most of it. Not after my third drink. Except when Goeun went home and left me with you." You said, rolling onto your side to look at him. Minho looked better than you figured you did, but he didn't generally drink much at the parties. If anything he'd get high and watch you make a fool of yourself with his friends. Which, you assumed, is exactly what you did last night. "So what did I miss?"

"Other than you practically fucking Chan in front of everyone?" He looked at you, jaw set tight, and you pushed yourself to sit up.

"There's no way that happened." You argued, and he rolled his eyes.

"It definitely fucking did. He was all over you, pretty sure you would have let him bend you over the beer pong table if he'd asked. Didn't know he was your type." He took the water, taking a drink from it himself before putting it down on the bedside table.

"He's not. We were just drunk and you know how we both are when we drink. We were just being friendly. You're overreacting, Min."

He moved so fast, so easily that it made you jump. In a single moment he was hovering over you, eyes dark and boring into you with your faces only inches apart.

"Am I? Overreacting? Or are you just so fucking neglected that you'd let anyone try to fuck you stupid?" He snapped. Your eyes went wide, stomach twisting with guilt and maybe just a little bit of arousal. He didn't generally talk down to you like that. He didn't actually talk much at all when he had you like this. You were beginning to wonder why not.

"No," You answered, voice sounding weak and small. He chuckled, reaching up to grab your jaw.

"No what?"

"No, sir, wouldn't let anyone fuck me. Don't want anyone else," You answered quickly.

"Took everything in me not to bring you up here and fuck you last night." He hissed, lips clashing against yours. He tasted minty and cool against your tongue, and you didn't want to imagine what you tasted like after last night, but he clearly didn't pay it any mind, diving into you and driving the kiss so hungrily that you were struggling to keep up. "But you were so wasted off your ass I couldn't do that. Wasn't gonna let anyone else do it either. But he fucking tried. He'd be stupid not to."

Then his mouth was trailing down your throat, nipping at the skin and suckling over the spot that he knew drove you wild every time. You squirmed under him, your fingers falling into his hair only for him to grab your wrist and pin it back against the bed.

You knew you'd have a mark by the time he was done, a big one if the stinging just under your jaw was any clue. He'd never marked you up before, and the feeling had you soaked already. You whined his name, and he left a harsh bite to your skin before pulling back to look at you.

"Please," You mumbled, feeling downright pathetic with the way he was looking at you.

"Please what?" He coaxed, voice condescendingly sweet. You rubbed your thighs together, trying to relieve the pressure that was distracting you.

"Please fuck me, need you so bad." You said. He laughed then, truly laughed at your plea.

"You think you deserve that? After trying to whore yourself out to my friend last night? I was right there, kitten, could have taken care of you but instead you decided to play games. And you lost." He said, moving back to pull your panties down your legs and toss them aside.

You were left just in one of his oversized shirts that he must have helped you change into before you fell asleep. He sat back, patting his lap. You squirmed, knowing exactly what was coming next. You knew better than to make him ask twice, but even as you moved to lay yourself over his lap, you whined.

"Sir, please. Didn't mean to be bad. Don't want punishment." You pouted. He scoffed, just pushing your shirt up so he could see the curve of your ass fully. He kneaded the supple flesh under his palm, listening to your begging before landing a slap against your ass.

You hissed, your legs kicking up in an attempt to escape. But Minho knew how you reacted, pushing your legs back down without even bothering to warn you.

"Do you ever want a punishment, kitten? Isn't that the point? You misbehave, you get punished. And Master is the one who decides when you get punished." He reminded you, smoothing his hand over the spot he'd spanked to soothe the burn. You whined, but nodded anyway.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry! I'm really sorry." You promised him. And you were. You would never come on to the boys if you were sober, especially not Channie. And you would most certainly not want any of them to take care of you the way Minho does.

He didn't answer, just landed two more spanks against your ass, holding you tight when you writhed away from the pain. You sniffled, turning to look at him. He was watching you, eyes traveling up your legs, over the abused flesh of your ass, along to your waist, then he met your eyes.

"How many more do you deserve?" He asked. He always asked that question after the first few, once he was truly pushing you into your headspace. You pouted.

"Three more?" You asked. He nodded. He almost never argued with your decisions on the matter. After all, punishments were learning experiences and you knew what you needed.

"Good girl." He said, barely finishing before his hand came down on one cheek, then the other, then back again. You kicked your legs up again, and this time he let you, running his warm palms over your thighs.

"Can you touch me now?" You asked. He smiled, helping you back onto your position on the bed.

"Yeah, kitty, now I can touch you. Did so good." He promised, moving to kneel between your thighs. His fingers moved faster than you expected, knuckles brushing against your aching pussy and making you jolt, a tiny gasp falling from your lips.

"Please, please don't tease. I need it." You huffed, and he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I know, I've got you. Just relax." He hummed as his fingertips slid between your folds, coating his fingers in your arousal and teasing against your clit with every swipe. It wasn't enough, but this was his favorite part. He liked working you up higher and higher and higher, he always said that it made it so much prettier when you came tumbling down.

His thumb found your clit, rubbing light circles against it, and your hips chased the feeling, needing a little more pressure, but still he eased off, never letting you get as close as you wanted to. Once you were finally relaxing into the feeling, he stopped, taking the opportunity to ease two long fingers into your eager hole.

You moaned, head lolling back against his pillow as he slid deeper into you, filling your hole with his fingers and curling them expertly in just the way that made you fall apart. His pace picked up gradually, his fingers pistoning into you and squelching in your wetness, the lewd sound serving to drive you closer to the end. He loved how wet you got for him, how desperate your body was for his touch. It went straight to his head. Both of them, actually.

"Close. Please can I cum?" You gasped out, fingers twisting into the blanket beneath you. Minho hummed as if thinking about it, all while moving his thumb against your clit in a messy slide that had you struggling to focus your vision. "Master,"

The title was a whine, pathetic and high and exactly the way he loved it.

"Beg for it. Show me how bad you want it." He decided, his hand coming to press against your lower abdomen slightly as his fingers bullied your gspot. You cursed loudly, panting with the attempt to keep from tipping over the edge without his permission.

"Min, please. Fuck, I need it so bad. Need to cum for you, need you to make me feel good. Can't hold it, just wanna cum on your fingers. Master, please," You couldn't lay still as you begged him to make you feel good. He took a minute to think as he continued fingering you.

"Could anyone else make your pussy cream like this?" He asked, and you shook your head adamantly, barely even processing the question. "Would you beg for Channie-hyung like this, hm? Let Jisung-ah use you like a little slut?"

"No! Never, just you. Promise, I'm just for you. All yours." You wailed. "Minho, please. Please I can't, I'm-" Your voice cut off in a sob, tears leaking from your eyes and wetting your cheeks as you tried to writhe away from the torment.

"Cum for me, then." He said. You weren't sure if you heard the words or if your body just reacted, but your pussy clenched around his fingers, sucking them in and soaking them in your cum. A scream of his name ripped from your throat, certainly loud enough for the others to hear, and his only response was a satisfied smirk. He worked you through the orgasm, waiting patiently for you to float back down to earth. It took a moment for your vision to clear up and your ears to stop ringing. When they did, you looked up at him, watching the way he lapped your juices off of his hand as if it were his favorite treat.

"Min," You whined, reaching out to him. He crashed against you, pulling you close and peppering your face with kisses.

"Such a good girl. You were amazing." He promised, pulling back to look at your face and using the back of his hand to wipe away any trace of tears. "Feel okay?"

You nodded, snuggling closer to him and breathing in his scent, the body wash he used and the warm cologne that lingered on his skin.

"Minho?" You mumbled, looking up at him. He reached down, brushing a lock of hair from your face with the fondest eyes.

"Yes?"

"I don't want anyone else. Just you." You promised him, nuzzling closer. "I always just wanted you."

"I always just wanted you too. I'm all yours, don't worry." He promised, tipping your chin up to press a kiss to your lips, and you melted into him, the lines between friendship and partners blurring and fading away until it was just you and Minho and nobody else in the world mattered in the least.

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・0.6k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・lee know x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship. lazy kisses & mutual obsession. / 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲・for my @rachalixie: you've done well today (♡´ ˘ `)⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

𝟭𝟴:𝟮𝟮 — There’s a certain novelty to experiencing something for the first time.

Sure, the magic lives on as your love for the thing grows, but no sensation will quite beat out the first time the opening riff of your favorite song hits your ears, the flavor of your favorite fruit splashing onto your tongue, the climax of your favorite film rendering you a sobbing mess in a public theater.

But you walk into your room one Saturday afternoon to glance at the man lying face-up on the bed you share, scrolling absentmindedly with a mackerel tabby curled into his side. Cordate, coral lips that you know by now feel like satin and taste like home, catlike eyes framed by thick lashes that could run makeup conglomerates into ruin; perfect, prim nose and chiseled, angular jaw, strong and sharp enough to draw blood should you run your finger along the pretty perimeters.

You clamber onto the mattress as delicately as you can. Not delicately enough, by Dori’s standards. The cat tosses you a disgruntled look before landing noiselessly onto the hardwood, departing from the room in search of his less disruptive siblings.

Moments later, Minho’s phone is face-down somewhere out of reach; you are straddling his waist and leaning over him, your hands cradling his face so tenderly they’re barely there. You come close enough for wisps of your hair to catch onto the delicate curves of his lashes, for the tip of your nose to bump against his like a greeting from a butterfly.

His soft laugh puffs against the seam of your lips like a breath of your own. “What’s the matter with you?”

He threw the curtains aside and cracked the windows open earlier, letting into the room a shower of late-afternoon sun. It now dyes his skin a dewy caramel, lightens his eyes to pools of molten amber. For some time, you are unable to respond, enraptured by all the wonder that he holds. 

Eventually, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, dip down, rid of the distance between you with a soft seal of your mouth his. He doesn’t move until he’s overcome his surprise, but then he brings one hand to your waist, slipping beneath the sheer fabric of your top to press your hips down onto his, and wraps the other around the base of your neck, the pad of his thumb settling over your jugular like a gossamer wing.

You sigh in pleasure and part your lips; he pursues this opening with a fervor, pliant tongue keeping your mouth ajar, head tilting to one side to better savor you, your teeth knocking and limbs entwining in this passionate fray.

By the time you come up for air, the world around you has changed. You’re underneath him now, his hands positioned on either side of your head. His eyes are no longer amber but obsidian, his mouth ravaged and raw in the aftermath of colliding time and time again with yours. The sun has largely vanished beneath the skyline.

You collect yourself just enough to procure an answer to his question.

“Every time I look at you feels like the first,” you whisper.

Minho doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe in spite of how you’d just kissed the air straight from his lungs, doesn’t believe his ears. For that is the exact way he feels about you, always has been and always will, though you have always been the one to first verbalize the feelings that he doesn’t have the words for.

For some time, he is unable to respond, enraptured by all the wonder that you hold.

Eventually, he combs a hand through his hair, dips down, rids of the distance between you with a hard crash of his mouth upon yours, and there the two of you will remain until it’s no longer light from the sun that sets your room aglow, but that of the moon and a hundred thousand stars.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[mykoreanlove]

„I think I’m in love with him.“

„YOU? IN LOVE? WITH A GUY? What the hell happened“? Your friend‘s bewildered eyes made you chuckle.

You took another sip of your cold drink before telling her about last night with Minho.

„So, he came over and we had a good time. Like a really good time.“

„Say less, we all see the dark bruises on your collarbones“, your friend proudly remarked.

You winced in agony for wearing this revealing top, why didn’t you choose a turtleneck?

„So yeah, Minho and I were going at it and I don’t know how it happened but I fell from the bed. And you know what he did?“

Your friend took a sip of her beer, waiting for you to spill.

„He shouted ‚5 seconds rule‘ and kept fucking me. I swear to god, I think I’m in love.“

[sluttywonwoo]

no nut november — lee know (winner)

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+ mdni), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex

a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi's and i’s collab <3

word count: 4.3k

series masterlist

“God, that feels so good,” you whine.

Minho’s head pops up from between your legs and he grins, chin shiny with your arousal. “You close?”

“I was until you stopped,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says with a pout. 

You push his head lightly. “You’re not sorry.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

You roll your eyes. “Just because you can’t cum doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“I thought we were in this together,” Minho whines. 

“You really want to deal with a girlfriend who hasn’t cum in a month?”

“Good point.”

With that, Minho gets back to work. He’s teasing you purposely, this time, dragging his tongue up and down your slit without staying in one place long enough to be effective.

“Minho.”

“Hm?”

“Please...”

“Please what?”

“Need more.”

“Use your words, baby- hey. Don’t squirm.”

He presses down on your hips to keep you still, basically wrestling you into place. You surrender to him but only because you know he’s stronger. Minho smacks your cunt twice, each time making you jolt slightly. 

“Let’s try this again. Use your words to ask for what you want.”

“Can I- can I have something inside? Like your fingers or your tongue?”

“What about my cock?”

“What about it?”

“You don’t want my cock inside of you?”

“Of course I do, I always do. I just... didn’t think that was on the table.”

“Why not?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?” you groan. 

“You don’t think I can control myself?” Minho accuses.

“No, actually, I don’t!”

He sits up, hand over his heart in mock offense. “You wound me.”

“You just get very... passionate when we have sex.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that once you start, you can’t stop.”

Minho narrows his eyes at you like you’re challenging him, even though that isn’t your intention at all. You don’t want him to lose on your account, but you can only resist your irresistible boyfriend offering you his dick on a silver platter for so long. 

“I can’t believe you think that little of me!”

“It’s not that you can’t last, Min- we both know you can. You just like to... finish something once you’ve started.”

“Is that supposed to be a pun?”

You grin. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’re such a loser.”

“That you’re in love with.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky that’s the case.”

“And here I was thinking you’re the lucky one.”

“Oh, I definitely am. Listening to your terrible jokes is a small price to pay for getting to be your person.”

You push his chest bashfully. “Don’t get all cheesy now.”

“Why not? Can’t take it?”

“No, actually. I can’t. If you keep pouring your heart out to me like that I’ll die on the spot and then you’ll go away for my murder. “

“Worst they could get me for is manslaughter,” Minho scoffs like he’s brushing off the possibility. 

“So comforting to hear when you have me pinned underneath you.”

He smirks. “Did you want to get fucked or not? I do have to work later tonight.”

You sigh, shrugging. If he was so insistent about it, you weren’t going to fight it anymore. You were only trying to do him a favor in the first place. His funeral and all that. 

“Give it to me.”

Minho’s smirk turns into a genuine grin and he rubs your thighs in excitement. “I know you wanted something inside but did you want me to make you cum before fucking you?” You shake your head no. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just put it in.”

“So romantic.”

Despite the sarcasm in his voice, Minho scoots up so that his face is just inches above yours and kisses you deeply, getting you to moan so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like you, unsurprisingly, and like the strawberry jam you put on your toast in the mornings. 

“Spread your legs a bit more for me, baby,” he whispers. You do, and he praises you for it. “There you go.”

One of his hands comes down in between your legs to rub your clit as he eases himself inside of you. The fit is perfect, like always, but the stretch is obviously a little more intense than usual. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

While he waits, he just lies on top of you, ignoring your complaints when you tell him you can’t breathe. Then, you tap him on the back twice to let him know he can move so he does. 

Minho isn’t one to jump right into fucking the life out of you, preferring to start slow and build gradually build the pace, and today is no different. He’s even slower than he normally is, being extra considerate of your disposition. 

“You can go faster,” you urge him. “I promise I won’t break.”

You see him hesitate, almost like he wants to ask you if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. It’s something he’s been working on, trusting you to be honest about what you want in the bedroom, much like you’ve been working on telling him what you want in the bedroom. “Wrap your legs around my waist, baby.”

You moan as soon as you lock your ankles behind his back, the angle already pushing him deeper inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. 

“Atta girl. So good for me when you wanna be, huh?”

You nod, whimpering. 

He keeps his fingers on your clit as he fucks you, wanting to get you to the edge as fast as possible. You assume he’ll draw back, slow down and edge you just like he had when he was eating you out a few minutes ago, but he doesn’t.

“Fuck, I’m going to- I’m cumming!”

You sob as it hits you, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s neck and pulling him close. He makes a sound of surprise as he falls forward into you but easily accepts his fate and begins to kiss and nip at your neck.

Minho’s still fucking you even after you come down, even though your legs are trembling and tears are staining your cheeks. He seems entirely unaffected by the way your pussy’s clenching relentlessly around him. Meanwhile, you’re falling apart every time the head of his cock nudges your g-spot. Curse his dancer’s hips and performer’s stamina.  

“Think you can give me another one?” he asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice and it’s infuriating. 

You don’t get the chance to respond before you’re cumming again, whining his name and biting your fist so hard you think you’ve drawn blood. It isn’t unlike Minho to fuck you into a second orgasm right after the first, he loves overstimulating you almost as much as he loves edging you, but it always catches you off guard. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts.

“Yeah, I just c-came twice.”

“You’re always tight,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

You snort and roll your eyes while Minho kisses your nose. 

“One more?” he asks, rolling his hips experimentally. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you moan. “Yes, please. Please make me cum again.”

Minho tries to gently coax the third orgasm out of you, taking his time instead of fucking your brains out like he just had been. You can tell he’s getting close too. He’s trying not to show it but he has a tell that’s a dead giveaway every time. 

“So good for me, letting me do whatever I want to you,” he pants. “So fucking warm and tight and perfect. God, you can never get enough of this cock, can you? Just have to have it all the time.”

“Yes, always!” you agree even though you aren’t entirely sure he’s expecting an answer. 

“That’s my fucking girl.”

You cum unexpectedly, shocking both yourself and your boyfriend. It’s all Minho’s fault, really. He can’t say shit like that and expect you not to gush everywhere. 

He tries to make the most of it by thrusting deep as he fucks you through the orgasm. You clutch him to you, digging your nails into his back as your thighs tighten around his waist. 

The cries of his name and the pulsing of your cunt drive Minho right to the edge and he’s suddenly frantic, whimpering and grunting in your ear as he desperately begs you to say the things he needs to hear.

“Tell me you love me,” he whines. “Please, baby tell me you’re mine.”

“I love you! I love you, baby. I’m yours, I’m yours. ”

It hits him hard- body going tense, eyebrows knitting together, mouth falling open as he cums inside of you. He looks so pretty like that, it’s a view you’ll never get tired of. It’s almost enough to make you cum again. You can feel it, feel his cock throbbing as he fills you up. You hadn’t used condoms with Minho for a long time now, didn’t need to when you were taking twice the typical dose of birth control for your awful periods. And you had been dating for long enough that you could trust each other with something as intimate as this.

Minho gives you and himself a moment to recover before he’s pulling out and rolling off of you. He feels around for one of the washcloths you always kept on the nightstand and finds one, cleaning himself and your thighs off.

“I’ll wet go wet another one with warm water for the actual mess,” he assures you. “Don’t want to use a dry washcloth on that. Your PH balance is already fucked up enough after what we just did.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Can you not say stuff like that until at least twenty minutes after we fuck?”

“You don’t think it’s sexy that your boyfriend cares and is knowledgeable about vaginal health?”

“I do, but I don’t think I would classify the subject as bedroom talk.”

“Agree to disagree.”

It isn’t until you’ve both showered and are laying in bed together that you bring the bet back up. Minho still has about an hour before he needs to be at the JYPE building and he’s trying to spend as much of that time with you as humanly possible. 

“Min, the bet,” you sigh. 

“What about it?”

“You lost. You guys shook on it like... a few hours ago.”

Minho shrugs. “Oh well.”

You sit up, detaching yourself from him to give him a look. 

“What?” he asks. 

“You’re the most competitive person I know..”

He grins. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t necessarily a compliment, but you’re welcome, I guess. I just mean you’re not even a little upset about being the first out?”

Another shrug. “Meh. You win some, you lose some.”

“Have you told them yet? What did they say?”

“I’m just gonna let them figure it out on their own,” he says. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

You narrow your eyes at your boyfriend as it dawns on you. “You were never going to play, were you?” 

Minho smirks. “Oh, I’m playing. I’m just playing a different game.”

-

“I’m not lying to our friends!”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not telling them.”

“It’s called a lie of omission for a reason, Minho. Because it’s a lie. And what if they straight up ask me about it? What am I supposed to say then?”

“Just change the subject.” “Yeah, because that’ll work fine and not be suspicious at all.”

“Babe, please,” he pleads. 

“It seems mean!”

“It is mean,” he agrees. “But it’s funny.”

“What if they all hate you after this?”

“They contractually can’t hate me. They still have to be in a group with me for the next two years and if we renew then even longer. Besides, this is me getting back at them for volunteering me to MC for Music Core. I was sick the day the representative came around to the company and they all recommended me knowing I wouldn’t want to do it because they thought it would be funny. Next thing I know, I’m in the audition room and they’re telling me I have to wear stupid hats and do aegyo every Saturday-”

“I thought you liked the hats.”

“They’re okay sometimes,” he huffs, refusing to admit what you both know to be true. “But it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Mr. Drama King. What do I get in return for participating in your little revenge plot?” 

“What do you want?”

“The rest of the SKZOOs.”

Minho purses his lips, holding back a scoff. The only SKZOO you owned was Leebit, obviously. You actually had a couple of Leebits around your apartment but Minho had jokingly banned you from getting any of the others because, in his words, he was supposed to be your favorite member. 

“Having the others doesn’t mean you’re not my favorite,” you’d argued. “Do you want Leebit to be lonely?”

“Leebit doesn’t need friends,” Minho had insisted. “He’s happier by himself.”

You weren’t convinced but you also didn’t feel like arguing with your very stubborn boyfriend on the subject. You were content with Leebit for the time being- until now, that was. 

“That’s really what you want?” Minho asks. 

“Mhm.”

He sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Fine. Deal.”

You grin triumphantly and kiss him on the cheek. “Pleasure doing business.”

“You’re a menace.”

“And that’s why you love me. We’re made for each other.”

-

Your plan was to simply avoid the members and their partners for the entire month. If you didn’t run into them, you wouldn’t have to lie to them. Easy peasy. Right?

“Jisung did what?” you gasp, standing dumbfounded in the middle of your bedroom as your boyfriend gets dressed. 

“Planned a surprise birthday party for me,” Minho repeats.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s my best friend?”

“But... your birthday was last month. And how is it a surprise party if you already know about it?”

“You know he’s not good at keeping secrets. Or planning ahead.”

You sigh and put your hands on your hips as you watch Minho button his nice dress shirt. 

“Do I have to go?”

He pauses to look up at you. “What do you mean do you have to go? You don’t want to?”

“It’s not that,” you explain, “I’m just worried about someone bringing up your stupid bet and having to lie to them.”

“I’ll do most of the talking,” he assures you. “Just stick by my side.”

Thankfully, the party Jisung had planned was on the smaller side. Only Minho’s closest friends were in attendance which meant that you knew almost everyone there. Han had admittedly outdone himself with the setup, too. You couldn’t even recognize the JYPE ballroom with all of the decorations and lights strung up everywhere. You told him as much when you saw him. 

“If only the guy was actually surprised,” he grumbled to himself, “but thank you. I’m glad you like it.” 

The ‘sticking by Minho’s side’ method only worked when he was actually by your side. Midway through the party, he excuses himself to go talk to one of his friends, leaving you to fend for yourself until he returns. 

“Oh my god, I feel like it’s been forever!” a familiar voice echoes from behind you. 

You turn to see Hyunjin’s girlfriend holding her arms out to you for a hug, and quickly reciprocate, briefly wrapping your arms around her in greeting. 

“It’s been too long,” you agree. 

“Where have you been?” she asks. “The other girls have been asking for you.”

“Oh, you know,” you mumble, “work has really picked up lately so I’ve just been swamped.”

It’s not technically a lie, you have been swamped, but you’ve also been actively avoiding your friends at the same time. 

“Ugh, that sucks. It must be so stressful,” she sympathizes, then lowers her voice. “How have you been doing with... you know?”

Fuck. 

You take a deep breath and swallow the guilt that threatens to claw its way up your throat as you scramble to come up with a bullshit answer. “About as well as any of us, I figure.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” she groans. “I nearly killed Hyunjin when he told me about it. I still might.”

You laugh. “If he goes missing, I won’t say anything.”

Suddenly, Minho’s back by your side, his hand resting on the small of your back. He greets Hyunjin’s girlfriend warmly. She wishes Minho a happy birthday and then excuses herself to go find her own boyfriend. 

“What were you two talking about?”

“Who’s asking?” you ask in response. 

“The birthday boy.”

“He has no authority here, sorry.”

Minho’s jaw drops in faux shock. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

“She just asked me how I was holding up through all of this No Nut November bullshit,” you admit.

“Wait, she actually asked you about it?”

“Yes, she actually asked me about it. Girls talk about this stuff.”

He winces and rocks back on his heels. “Damn, I’m sorry, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t fucking leave me again. What was so important you had to ditch me for in the first place?”

“I went to go say hey to that girl Jeongin likes,” Minho explains, nodding in her direction. 

You look over to where she was now sitting with Jeongin and nod in understanding. “That’s her?”

She was one of the guests you didn’t know super well. You had only seen her at a few group functions and she mostly kept to Jeongin and some of the other younger members. 

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I just thought she might be interested to know that her crush on Innie is mutual.”

“What?”

“She likes Jeongin back.”

“No, I know she does.” One of the other girls had told you about Jeongin’s little crush and how the two were practically shooting heart eyes at the other all the time but were completely oblivious. You just hadn’t been able to put a face to the name until now. “How do you know that?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Minho mutters defensively. 

“But why would you try to meddle in their business? Shouldn’t you let them figure it out for themselves?”

“If I didn’t interfere they’d never act on their feelings,” he argues. 

“And why did you decide to ‘interfere’ now of all times?” you push. 

Minho smirks, knowing you’re on to him. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. “Why are you trying to make him lose? You’re already out so why does it matter?”

“I’m just trying to keep it interesting!”

“You’re being an asshole, is what you’re doing!” 

“You’re hot when you’re mad.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“What do you say we get out of here?” he suggests, completely ignoring what you’d just said. 

“You can’t leave your own birthday party early!”

“Says who?”

“It would be rude, Minho.”

“Fine, then let’s find a closet or something.”

“You really want to fuck like twenty feet away from everyone you’re up against for No Nut November?”

He shrugs. “Who doesn’t like a little challenge?”

-

Jeongin loses next, then Hyunjin. Changbin follows not long after, then Chan, then Felix. All the while, you continue to have sex with Minho. He comes over a lot more often, fucking you in every room of your apartment and then falling asleep in your bed just to go again in the morning. 

You can’t risk being at the dorms because neither of you are very good at keeping your hands off of each other, but you don’t want to raise suspicion by not being around so you drop by a couple of times throughout the month under the guise of bringing Minho dinner or picking him up for date night.

When the boys ask about you, Minho gives them the same excuse you’d told Hyunjin’s girlfriend about work. They don’t pry, thankfully, probably too intimidated by your boyfriend to invoke your name more than once every three to five business days. Minho could be a little possessive at times, even around the friends he’d known longer than he had known you, and that was working in your favor this month. 

The other six having lost meant that Seungmin was the only one left standing. Technically, he had already won. But he doesn’t know that. Only you and Minho know that. 

You expect Minho to tell him the good news as soon as Felix announces his failure, but he doesn’t.

“November isn’t over yet,” he points out.

“You’re just going to let Minnie suffer?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“He’s going to kill you.”

“Probably.”

-

Minho feels a little bad about having you lie on his behalf, but not bad enough to stop you from doing it. You’re just as much of a little jerk as he is, which is why he knew you’d agree in the first place. Sure, your moral compass is a bit more aligned than his, but that’s what makes you such a great pair. You’re there to reign him in when he goes too far, and he’s there to push your boundaries. 

“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” he asks when you come back from a girls brunch all giddy and breathless. 

You hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place to save yourself from lying to them all morning but Seungmin’s girlfriend had begged you to, seeing as you were the only two whose boyfriend’s hadn’t caved and therefore weren’t getting laid like the other girls were.

You didn’t want to leave her hanging like that, so you went. And now, you’re practically glowing with adrenaline as you recount the last two hours to Minho.

“I said that you won’t even touch me,” you exclaim, making Minho’s smile falter. “And that you’ve resorted to sleeping on the couch when you stay over so you don’t accidentally get too close to me in your sleep.”

He scoffs. “Did you have to make me sound like a total fucking loser?”

“Would you rather I have told the truth?”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. Thank you for doing that.”

You take a seat on Minho’s lap and hum happily. “You’re welcome.”

-

When the clock strikes midnight on December first, Minho’s surprised by the radio silence from Seungmin’s end. 

“Do you think he’s asleep?” he asks you. 

“Maybe he’s fucking his girlfriend into oblivion,” you suggest with a shrug. “I hope he is for her sake. Poor girl was desperate for dick.” 

Minho isn’t really sure how to respond to that so he doesn’t. He just hums in acknowledgment and turns the lamp by your bedside off so that your room is doused in darkness. You pat his thigh comfortingly under the blankets. 

“We’ll find out tomorrow, babe.”

“I guess we will.”

Seungmin doesn’t text the groupchat until the afternoon, hours after Chan’s texted asking who won. Minho shows you the texts and you read over his shoulder as the messages roll in. 

Kim Seungmin SKZ: lost an hour or two before midnight. congrats minho. 

Lee Felix SKZ: minho won??? Why am i not surprised at all lol

Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: I think we all saw this coming.

Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: pun intended.

Bang Chan SKZ: so where are you going to take your gf?

Minho: actually, you all should congratulate Seungmin.

Bang Chan SKZ: what?

Hannie: what? did you lose yesterday afternoon or something?

Seo Changbin SKZ: ???

Minho: I was the first to lose. 

The groupchat is silent for a single beat before it starts blowing up with messages from all of the members furiously cursing Minho out. He laughs as he scrolls through them. 

Bang Chan SKZ: all in favor of voting lee know out of the group?

Kim Seungmin SKZ: i think it’s unanimous.

Minho: Relax, Minnie. You won. You’re getting the trip. 

Kim Seungmin SKZ: RELAX? YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME TO FUCKING RELAX??? I COULD HAVE BEEN FUCKING MY GIRLFRIEND THREE DAYS AGO AFTER FELIX LOST BUT NOOO YOU THINK YOU’RE SO FUNNY MAKING THE REST OF US LOOK LIKE IDIOTS

Yang Jeongin SKZ: i mean it is kind of funny

Hannie: you’re not mad innie?

Yang Jeongin SKZ: i was out second... or i guess technically third so i was never going to win anyway. minho got me a girlfriend out of this so i can’t really complain too much

Minho: Listen, I’m happy to be the sole contributor to Minnie’s vacation since I was the one to orchestrate all this. The rest of you can donate to that nonprofit we talked about at the beginning of the month. I’ll make a donation too obviously but don’t worry about the trip.

Kim Seungmin SKZ: I don’t want your pity money

Minho: it’s not pity money, it’s sorry for being an asshole money

Seo Changbin SKZ: if he doesn’t want it, i’ll take it

Kim Seungmin: don’t you fucking dare

Minho: anyway, if you guys are done bitching I’m going to go spend some time with my girlfriend now. I hope you’ve all learned your lesson.

Hwang Hyunjin SKZ: our lesson???

Lee Felix SKZ: wym?

Bang Chan SKZ: oh don’t tell us you’re still mad about that

Minho: not anymore. we’re even now.

Minho puts his phone down on the counter as soon as it starts to ring with a call from Seungmin. He swipes the decline icon and turns his attention to you. 

“Was it worth it?” you ask. 

He opens his mouth to answer but his phone rings again, cutting him off. It’s a call from Chan this time. He declines it and turns the phone off completely so that no one else can bother the two of you. 

He leans forward and kisses you hard, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as his hands settle on your ass. 

“Was it worth it?” he repeats, smirking. “I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat.”

sorry again for the wait- as you all know i've been going through a lot lol

nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka @fairygemss @multistancheck @lady---boner @stay-bi @compersian @raspbinniecreme @skzgallll @strawberriesandknives @laylasbunbunny @goddessofhiddenpleasures @brit97 @jonaticdragon @linobuns @vampcharxter @skizzel @sillyrabbit76 @sahazzy @kpfly @zerefdragn331 @wonuziex @sirleeknow @ashcapybara

[aeliuss]

kiss me or hate me (kiss me)

when god made you, he built you all wrong. sown your heart on three times too large and your lungs three times too small, and you knew it was so because although you knew he was bad news, you couldn’t quite catch your breath around him. he is something holy, you swear he is. when he carves his hips into yours, when his lips linger on the soft flesh of your throat—he could tear you open.

you would let him. let him love you the way a vulture loves a carcass, neck dipped low in worship as it feasts.

your parents hate the way you’ve stopped going to church to be with him. hate that your even with him, but what do they know of love? you try to explain it to them, but the words get tangled in your throat, coming out wrong. they see only rebellion where you see revelation, only sin where you see sanctity.

you spend your nights wrapped in his arms, your days lost in thoughts of him. the world narrows to the beat of his heart against your ear, the whisper of his breath against your skin. his presence is a prayer you never learned, a hymn that rises unbidden in your throat. you abandon the familiar pews and hymns for the unknown verses of his touch, and every kiss is a communion, every whispered word a confession.

you start to think that maybe love is its own kind of faith. you wonder if god made him just for you, a test of your devotion, a challenge to your beliefs. you wonder if redemption could be found in the curve of his smile, if salvation could be written in the lines of his hands.

“I don’t love you,” he is sitting up on the bed, back to you, hips still tangled in the white sheets as he smokes a vape. “you know that, right?”

you know. you tell him so from where you lay on the bed, a foot away from him. naked, if not for the duvet. you swear you can make out a halo from the curls of smoke around his head.

he exhales sharply, shoulders shaking with laughter, twisting to face you. “god, you’re fun.” he murmurs against your lips. “did you know that? how fun you are?”

you don’t answer. don’t get the chance to, because he is pressing against you, and your blur into him once more. you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

“do you believe in redemption?” you ask him one day, your voice barely a whisper.

he snorts, a short, sharp sound that cuts through the silence. “redemption is for people who think they need to be saved,” he says, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “do you think you need to be saved?”

“do you?”

“do I look like I need to be saved?” his touch is not unlike a feather against your hip. it makes it difficult to focus. “I don’t know,” you murmur, cupping his jaw. “sometimes, you look very sad.”

you’ve never caught him off guard before. but that night you swore you saw the glitter of tears in his eyes, though you don’t feel them when he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“maybe we can save each other,” he mumbles after a while.

you hum softly, considering his words, the weight of them sinking into the silence between you. maybe it's true, maybe you can save each other. the idea flickers like a candle in the dark. fragile.

but as the days pass, you realize that love alone cannot mend all wounds, cannot erase all sins. he is still the same flawed, broken boy you fell for, and you are still the same church girl with a heart too big and a faith too fragile. you cannot save him, no matter how desperately you try.

yet you try. because god has sown your heart on three times too big and his three times too small and when you are together, you are clashes of teeth and elbows, of long limbs and wandering fingers, of sanctity and sin.

because he is your religion and you, a dutiful worshipper. because it was always meant to end this way. his teeth on your throat. a vulture feeding on a corpse.

[loveneversleepss]

TROPE SERIES: Lee know

Brothers best friend

requested by @aakamiLee on wattpad

Pairing: enemy!Lee know x female reader

Trope: enemies to lovers, fake dating

Warnings: cursing, bickering, mean and nice nicknames, time jumps (bc im lazy), smut, protected sex (we're responsible for once), unprotected sex (Oopsie), oral sex, betrayal, yelling?

w.c: 10 k

~

There's a big difference between love and hate. Who you love and care for are forever in your heart, you'll follow them to the end of the earth. But hatred, it's made out of pure evil. It sinks into you until you can't push it out anymore. You deal with it in ways that aren't right. Until, you accept it. Make peace with it. Then that's when it goes away.

I guess that's why villains or enemies are seen as more powerful and better. Attractive sometimes too. Because they've made peace of their hate. They're gonna use it to fire themselves into getting what they want. Because they're not afraid. They'd let the world burn for what they love. Meanwhile hero will sacrifice what they love to save the world. And you'd choose the villain every time.

If there's anyone you have a strong hatred for, it's Lee know. Ever since you were a child, he had it out for you to embarrass you and tease you at any moment he could. On the way you'd dress, the way you talked, or the way you walked. He would say something about it. You didn't know what or why he always would make fun of you. What could possibly possess him to do that?

"Wow, y/n. Could you get anymore dorkier? Look at what you're wearing," he'd snicker.

There was never a moment he would spare you, or do anything to prove he was good. He was a bully, an enemy and you would never side with him. You promised that to yourself. But you'd hate to admit, he's gorgeous. Breath taking.

But there was one person who was disgusted by him and hated him even more than you did. Hyunjin. Your knight in shining armor. He was even more beautiful than Lee know.

"I know you're not talking with those tight jeans, Lee know." He came by your side and defended you. Lee know looked embarrassed on the spot.

You were thankful for him. You survived Lee knows bullying tactics thanks to him. He was your best friend all your childhood years. But he had to leave. You knew it wouldn't last. But you had hoped it would. The last day of elementary school, you dreaded it and wished it didn't come. But it did, and he moved away after that day.

"Don't worry, y/n. I'll come back for you, I will never forget my best friend." He hugged you tight and he whispered sweetly to you, "promise me you'll wait? Promise that you'll never have another boy at your side, I'm the only one for you." And you intended to keep that promise.

How the years fly by. Senior year. Graduation. This is the final year. The final time to experience everything you possibly can. And you will.

"Y/n!" You heard your name being called by your brother, Chan. He's practically legend at your school. He graduated a year ago. At your school, you have a record of seniors who experienced things no one else has before. He accomplished to host all senior parties. How does one even manage that?

You made your way down the stairs in your pajamas. "What?" You yelled back and made your way to the kitchen. "We're going out, don't burn down the house, and don't go anywhere." He said in a busy tone as he texted in his phone. You saw Leeknow standing next to Chan and you glanced at him confused. "Since when were you two friends? You don't even go to our school anymore, Chan." Chan made eye contact with Lee know and back to you. "Because I'm actually cool, unlike you, lil sis. I have friends and you so desperately need to get out more." He slipped away before you could answer and you glared in his direction.

You turned your focus back on Lee know as stared at you with a smirk. "Cute pjs," he joked and you rolled your eyes. "Well excuse me that I don't look like a supermodel in the morning." He seemed amused and leaned over the table, "it's noon and Saturday. Why don't you go out with us, huh? Get put of your comfort zone, gain a social life or something." You scoffed and took a couple steps closer, "I have a life and friends. I don't need to be drinking and partying all the time." He straightened his body up and crossed his arms, "name one friend you have." He was skeptical of you, you have to admit. Making friends is not an easy task for you.

"Hyunjin," you said confidently. He laughed practically in your face. "That loser? He moved away a long time ago, it's time you move on sweetheart." You were done with the conversation and flipped him off as you walked away. He rushed to stop you, leaning against the wall before the stairs. "Come on, get ready. It'll be fun." That's all you need. To attend a party with your mortal enemy.

"No thanks." You shinned a fake smile at him and you walked up the stairs. "Jeez what a loner," he mumbled and you looked down at your pajamas. Suddenly feeling self conscious. Maybe you should start going out more. You stopped mid way on the stairs and he had begun to walk away. "Do you really think it would be fun?" He turned back around and rose an eyebrow mischievously. "Yes, it would." He crossed his arms, you immediately noticed his veins and the tone of his muscles appearing. You have to admit, if he wasn't your mortal enemy, you would find him attractive.

He followed your eye path to his arms and cleared his throat. "Just go get ready loser." You frowned and continued going up the stairs and got ready.

You peaked around the corner and saw him leaning against the wall in the kitchen, waiting for you. "Yeah, Chan. It's fine I can take her. I'll be there soon." He hung up and you cleared your throat. He turned his attention up to you and smiled slightly, you began to walk down the steps with a slight shyness. He slowly made his way towards you and... He wolf whistles at you.

"Okay, ew." You rose your hand and made a face of disgust. He smiled. "It's just nice to see you actually try to fit in for once." The backhanded compliment hit you in the face like a truck. You huffed and crossed your arms, "why can't you just say I look pretty? You don't have to insult me." His expression dropped and his eyes softened, "okay I'm sorry. You look pretty." The Lee know apologizing for once in his life? You're shocked and frankly, scared. He must want something. "Okay now you're being strangely nice, what is it that you want? Girls? Money?"

He smirked as he looked down at your hands. "Did I maybe convince you to go out with me out of jealousy that I would get with a girl?" He slowly moved to the first step as you walked down to him. How the hell did he come to that conclusion? Delusional. "Are you jealous, little y/n?" He leaned against the wall. You laughed in disbelief and crossed your arms. "Of course not, no, I'm not jealous." He smirked and licked his lips, "Uh huh." He sighed heavily, "Just admit it, you're in love with me." You mock a laugh at him, "Um, no."

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Is that so?" He steps closer to you, almost toppling over you, "even when I do this?" He places a lock of your hair behind your ear and stares into your eyes, you try to ignore the heart beating fast in your chest. "Just leave me alone, jerk!" He laughs softly to himself as you push him away. "You're hot when you're mad." You narrow your eyes at him with annoyance as you walk away. He always does things like that just to get you flustered, you should be able to say you're used to it but you're not. He makes you nervous and barely able to stand when he touches you. You don't know why he has that effect on you but he does. And you hate yourself for it.

~~~

You'd never would've imagined in a hundred years that you would be in a car with Lee Know right now. It's frightening really. "So, what is all good about that Hyunjin guy? You seem to be in love with him or something." You rolled your eyes and continued looking out the window, "i'm not in love with him, he was just really nice to me." He scoffed and sat up straighter in his seat, "you're obsessed with him because he was nice to you? God, y/n, you really need to go to this party." You huffed and sat more back in the seat. You eventually arrived and heard the music booming in the distance, he parked neatly. But he hasn't motioned to leaving yet, awaiting your move. You always pondered a question and never had the guts to say it before to him, but you're feeling pretty bold right now.

"Why do you hate me?" You looked over your shoulder at him, he was clenching his jaw hard. "Who said I do?" He turned to look at you two, since when has he had that sparkle in his eyes? It's mesmerizing. He looked down to his water bottle in the cup holder and decided to take a sip. "Are you fucking with me?" He practically choked at your bluntness and hit his chest a couple times. "I mean you have made every single thing I've ever done incredibly hard and made fun of me every chance you could." He set down the water bottle and looked into your eyes once again, "it was the only way I could get your attention." You shook your head at him. "There are other ways of getting my attention, being mean is not one of them." You opened the door and slammed it shut in annoyance, he followed closely behind which annoyed you even more.

You walked into the party and realized, this is definitely not your element. "Scared, little one?" Lee know whispered into your ear. "Just not my element, can you get me something to drink?" He looked guilty all of a sudden and licked his smooth lips, "so uh. About what I said about you basically getting out of your comfort zone. Maybe drinking should not be one of them." You wanted so badly to beat him up. Rip him apart to shreds. "What? Come on, I need to unwind." You faced him now and shot puppy dog eyes at him, "pretty please?" He stayed silent for a while, just looking down at you. "Okay, I'll be back. Stay put."

Yeah, no way you're staying put. You took the opportunity when he left to explore around, leading into a den in the house. You became face to face with a man with long black hair, kissing a woman on the couch. You instantly recognized him, Hyunjin. He broke away from the kiss with an amused smile and the girl noticed you and stared with a judging look, he followed her gaze and laid eyes on you.

What. The. Fuck. "Y/n?" You turned away quickly and bumped into Lee knows silhouette, knocking your drink all over himself. "Ugh, dammit y/n." He noticed your face and immediately searched around for the cause. Lee Know's gaze locked from him to you and then back to him. His jaw tensed as he stared at them both and it clicked, that's also his ex girlfriend. Tears began to fill in your eyes, and he pulled you close. He led you to a bathroom far away from them. Tears fell down your cheeks, pooling your mind.

"Listen to me, y/n. Fuck them. He didn't deserve you anyways." You leaned against the sink as he desperately tried to wipe away your tears. You shook your head while sobbing, "I can't believe it, I was an idiot to love him. I wasted all this time waiting for him." Now he was shaking his head, "no, y/n. Don't think like that. He's the idiot and you should beat his ass for doing that to you." You sighed heavily and pushed him away by his stomach, wiping your own tears. "God, I wish you wouldn't see me like this. Please don't make fun of me for this."

He stayed silent. "God, you reek." You sat down on the closed toilet lid. He looked down to his shirt, "oh right. I forgot." He took of his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, and off his shirt went. Pulling it off his shoulders, and wetting it in the sink. You couldn't help staring at his sculpted physique, he was ripped. And there was one thing that stood out to you, a small scar located a little above his waist. It was so unique and beautiful, you wanted to trace along it. He noticed your staring, "what?"

You stood up and walked over to him, he froze as you stared down at his scar. He backed against the sink. You slowly raised your hand and touched his stomach, "it's pretty." You traced along it, his chest rising up and down as you slowly caressed it. "Y/n," he whispered softly and you looked up at him. His cheeks were slightly red and you instantly knew he felt embarrased. You yanked your hand away, "sorry." He shook his hand and mumbled a, "its fine."

He continued to try to wash away the alcohol from his shirt as you watched. "I'll wash this later." He drained it and you gave him his sweater back to cover him up. He paused before reaching for the door, he looked back at you, "do you wanna go home?" You nodded your head, "yeah. I wanna go home." He put his arm around you and led you outside, not once letting you astray from his grip. You hadn't noticed before, but people were staring at you, you heard faint whispers. "Who's that girl with Lee Know?" "She's pretty." "Wait I think that's Chan's little sister." You shook off their conversations, of course they were talking about you, you were with Mr. King of the parties. He opened the door for you and you were about to enter when you heard your name being called. You took a deep breath and turned to the culprit. "What do you want Hyunjin?"

"Just let me explain." You glanced at Lee Know and he nodded his head for you to put Hyunjin's ass on blast. "Explain what exactly. That you didn't have your tongue down her throat, while you told me to wait for you all these years and forbade me to have a boyfriend? Please, how much of a fucking loser are you to get someone's sloppy seconds?" Lee Know held in his laughter as he brought a fist to his mouth. He looked visibly proud of you. "Yeah, we're done here. Let's go."

You held the door to enter when he yelled out, "you think you're so fucking high and mighty don't you. You wanna pick out my relationship but not the one right here," he motioned at the two of you, "I mean come on y/n. He fucking made your life a living hell, don't you remember the times you cried in my arms about him, wishing that he would die?" You suddenly felt small, he exposed you bare and you couldn't deny it. Suddenly, there was a crowd watching from afar that you hadn't noticed from afar.

Lee Know stepped in, "get over it. She doesn't want your fucking ass and is perfectly happy without you. Whatever she said in the past is definitely not how she feels anymore, now she loathes your ass. So, tell me this.." He stepped closer to him and you suddenly realized why everyone fears him too, he's not afraid to point out the obvious and speak up, he whsipered something inaudible to him. Hyunjin clenched his jaw and had a face of anger. He walked away defeated and Lee Know laughed as he did. You looked at Lee Know differently now, he stuck up for you when no one else did.

Maybe in another universe, you two could've been friends. Maybe he's not so bad afterall. Then you realized how rude you were to Hyunjin.

"My god, I'm turning into you!" He chuckled as your hands covered your face. "Is that so bad?" You nodded your head yes aggressively and he rolled his eyes. "Lino~~~" Oh God, as drunk as ever your brother came over to you two. "Chan, why did you drink so much?" He collapsed on the car and burped loudly, classy. "Okay, let's get you two home."

~~~

"Does he always get this drunk?" You asked Lee know and he shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes, only when he's stressed I guess." You plopped down on the couch and he collapsed next to you. You both sighed heavily and tried to relax. Although it didn't last long, "how are you feeling about tonight?" You shook your head, "let's not talk about it..." He cares, he cares about what you're feeling. "It's weird, isn't it?" He furrows his face in confusion, "what is?" You smiled slightly as you looked at him, "those moments where we don't hate each other." He sighed once again, "like I said. I don't hate you."

"I know." You do know that, but in your heart, you can't shake off the past. "But I know you hate me, and that's okay. I'll make you like me someday." You laughed softly, you're already starting to. You start to think about the party again and a light appears in your head. "What if we strike a deal with each other?" He raised an eyebrow, obviously interested. "What if we pretended to date?" He dropped his head back and sighed, "what do I get out of this?" You scooted closer to him, "well it'll make your ex jealous, plus it would also make Hyunjin jealous too... and maybe he will regret not being with me. Also increase my popularity." He sucked on his teeth, "seems this only benefits you, I couldn't care less about my ex."

You pondered and searched your mind for a benefit for him, "fine then, you get me." His eyes widened and he brought his head back down to normal level, "excuse me?" You leaned onto the couch on one arm, holding your head, "you heard me. I'll let you hit it whenever you want." He scoffed, "I'm offended that you think I don't have access to that already." You bit your bottom lip, "but it's not me. It's different, I'm your enemy." He squinted his eyes and blinked about a thousand times, like to actually think about it. "So, you're saying you want to have hate sex?" You almost giggled and shrug your shoulders.

"I knew you were in love with me." You smiled and shook your head, "like I said, no." He mimicked your position and got closer, "so if I told you I wanted you right now, spread out and making you cry for it. You would do it?" You made a face of disgust, "okay don't make it weird. But essentially.. sure. After all if imma lose my virginity to someone, might as well be you." He retracted his face is shock, "wait you're a virgin? God, you were really waiting for him, huh?" Unfortunately yes, you were.

He licked his lips and nodded, "okay fine. I'll be your fake boyfriend. But that means that you can't fight me on couple duties and don't tell Chan." What have you gotten yourself into?

He seemed to keep up his end of the deal, to not be able to get away from him, even at school. Your phone began to ring and you reached into your book bag, more of a tote bag and answered it. "Hello?" His voice was excited and jumpy, "hi y/n.~" You nearly hung up the phone as soon as he spoke. "Lee know?? How did you even get my number?" You audibly groaned his name. "Your brother~" he cooed. "Remind me to murder him later.." He laughed softly and you felt butterflies appear in your tummy, you clenched your stomach and nearly punched yourself to make it go away.

"Why are you calling me?" You cross one of your arms across your chest and the other holding up your phone. "That's how you talk to your savior? Your brother told me to take you home." You groan aloud and begin to walk down the path to the front. "Why didn't he come for me?" There's a loud beep of a horn and you stop into your tracks. "Sorry, apparently that car didn't see me.. maybe he wanted us to spend alone time together." You roll your eyes. "I highly doubt that." He clicks his tongue, "so where are you?" You continue your walking again but go even slower. "I'm hiding, or maybe im at home or maybe im in Hyunjin's car. Could be anywhere really as long as I am away from you." This feeling makes you feel upbeat, you like teasing him.

"Tell me where you are right now you brat," he speaks quickly in a rude tone. "Okay, first of all, rude." He sighs heavily and then chuckles softly to himself, "nice dress, Princess. Can I take it off?" Your phone slightly drops down when you search your surroundings for him. You furrow your brows when you don't find him. "How'd you know I-" You scream as your feet are lifted off the floor, being carried from behind by your waist. "Found you," he whispers and attacks your neck, biting it playfully and pretending to eat it while making gurgling noises. "Okay, okay, enough! Put me down!" People were staring.

He sets you down gently and you toss your phone back into your bag. "Here, let me get that for you." He deattaches your book bag off your shoulder and onto his. "Thanks," you mumble softly. His arm cheekily raises over your head to your shoulder, "So, what are we doing today huh? Going to dinner? Or a fair? Maybe even the movies?" You stopped walking, pushing his arm off and your mouth was slightly agape as he looked at you curiously, "what are you talking about? We're going straight home." He pouted his bottom lip, as you noticed his car. Without waiting, you marched straight to it and to the passenger's side door, about to open it until he slammed it shut.

He leans in close, keeping a firm grip on the door. "We have to go out," he said softly, you shook your head no as you kept trying to open the door. "Come onnn, let's go on a date. You were the one who said you wanted to do this fake dating thingy." He whined pathetically and you knew he was just messing with you. So obviously you had no intentions or interest in saying yes. But you did anyway, just to mess with him. "Hmm, why not?" He perked up immediately and stepped closer to you. "Really?" "No," you said almost immediately and he frowned. "Well too bad because we're going anyway." He finally let go of the door and opened it. You glared at him as you went in and he softly smiled.

~~

He took you out for ice cream. It was nice. He was nice and complimented your dress. He took you home afterward, and surprise surprise. No Chan. "Great, I don't wanna be alone... Come inside?" He looked at your front door and then you. "Can I cash in?" Already? You weren't prepared yet. And weren't exactly ready to give it up yet. "Oh, I haven't prepped or anything." He stepped closer to you, merely inches away. "I don't need all that, just you." But why the hell not? The sooner the better.

You led him inside and up into your room, making sure to lock the door. He wandered about as you quickly went into the restroom to touch up, the door was open to keep an eye on him. You walked in after a couple minutes and he was sitting on the bed, looking at picture. One of you in elementary, playing in the grass alongside Hyunjin. "I always thought you were so pretty when you played in the grass, I never got the chance to go with you. Your protector prohibited it." You approached him slowly and sat on the bed. You pulled the picture out of his hand, "forget him. I'm here now."

His eyes scanned your face as you tossed the photo aside. You prepared yourself, first kiss, first everything would be with him. He leaned in slightly. "What if my brother finds out?" His hand slips behind your ear, tucking softly at your hair strands. "He won't," he whispers against your lips. He stares into your eyes, flickering down often back down to your lips. "God, you're so damn beautiful." He pressed his soft lips into yours, taking you whole. You sighed in relief, it's as magical as you thought it would be. Moist and soft as pillows. Connecting two bodies into one.

"Don't stop," you mumbled against his lips. And he didn't. He entered his tongue softly into your mouth, entangling his with yours. You moaned at the feeling, the pleasure intensifying and all your doubts fade away. He reaches at the bottom of your dress, pulling it up above your waist. Revealing your underwear and tugging at it. He strokes at your concealed clit, he smiles. "You're wet for me, baby?" You almost moaned at the nickname. You felt shy now that he pointed it out. "You're sure you want to go through with this? I can stop."

You don't want him to stop. "Don't you dare stop." You pulled him back into your lips. You felt him smile against your lips. He pulled your dress over your head and laid it onto the floor. You reached for his belt. He stopped you as he took it off himself. You crawled back higher in the bed for room. He undressed himself until he was in his underwear too, the beautiful scar appearing once again. You couldn't help but stare, he is beautiful you have to admit. You reached for his pants and pulled out an aluminum wrapper. Holding it in his mouth and crawled toward you seductively. You giggled as he appeared on top of you and you took the wrapper out of his mouth.

He kissed your neck which made you melt in his touch. It felt like heaven and sent tingles down your body. Intensifying the building pleasure. He reached around your back and unclipped your bra. You weren't expecting it and gasped, so easily slipping it off. He attached his lips to your breast immediately, making your back arch as he sucked on it softly. His fingers teased at your entrance, playing with your panties and slapping it against your sensitive skin. "Don't tease me," you whimpered and his eyes turned dark with lust. He grabbed the wrapper from you and slipped down his underwear. Your mouth dropped, you weren't expecting it so suddenly.

You felt compelled to look at it and dragged down your panties. He groaned as he made eye contact with your pussy. He opened the wrapper and slipped it on neatly and swift. Getting ready and you prepared as he positioned himself. He entered smoothly and you moaned aloud, you covered your mouth but he pulled it away quickly. He kept your hands above your head at your wrists and the other positioning himself into you. You felt so full. "Fuck, fuck. It feels so good." You whined out as he continued to bottom out into you. He finally stopped pushing until you. The pain and pleasure mixing.

You moaned happily and tried to break free of his hold. "God, you're fucking perfect," he whispered. The praise got you going even more. He pulled out to the tip and pushed back in. You moaned heavily again as he began to set a rhythm. "Fuck, you're gonna make me come if you keep clenching like that." You wrapped your legs around his waist to encourage him. "Cum if you want to, just keep going." You've never talked like this to anyone. He let go of his grip around your wrists and readjusted your legs. Laying your ankles onto his shoulders and holding your legs close.

He pushed back into you and you practically crumbled in his hands. The pleasure was intensified, heightened. You cried out as he mercilessly pounded into you. "Please, please" you begged although you didn't know what. His thumb rubbed against your sensitive bud and you pushed away with your hips. You whimpered out as he kept abusing your body. "What's wrong, can't take it?" He teased you which made you angry, you hate being teased especially by him. It's his favorite thing to do.

"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." You chanted against his rhythm. "I hate you so much," you mumbled to yourself. He smirked, "keep talking and watch what's gonna happen." A challenge, you know you can't resist. "I hate that I love this so much," you laughed breathlessly, "I hate that I love you fucking me." You squealed as he turned you over onto your stomach. He pushed your neck into the sheets and arched your back, a sting on your butt appeared. You whimpered at the pain, he slid on once again and you screamed into the pillow. "Keep going," he whispered into your ear. And so you did, confessing all what you were thinking.

"I hate that you're so attractive." He pulled your hair into a bundle and moaned softly. Butterflies appeared in your stomach, he was enjoying this, enjoying you. "I hate that you know exactly how to make me crumble in your hands." Tug. "I hate that I crave you at times I shouldn't." He begins to pound up into you fast and harsh, making you a moaning mess. "I hate that I've wanted you all these years!" You want it, want it so bad. You need a release. "That's all I wanted to hear," he whispered sweetly into your ear and pulled your face to kiss him. You cried out into his mouth as he mercilessly grinded into you. He moaned loudly, his hands bracing onto your hips as his pace slowed. But he kept going, for you.

He snapped his hips into you once, twice, and you collapsed. Like a thread being cut. A knot being undone. A firework finally exploding. Release, sweet beautiful release. He talked you through it, "that's it. Just let it go, princess. You're doing so good." You relaxed in his arms, feeling him slip out of you slowly. You suddenly felt empty now, without the comfort of him. He laid you down softly onto your back. "You okay?" He cooed at you as he brushed the hair out of your perfectly happy face. You nodded your head, "what are you smiling about, hm?"

"I'm just happy." You were. He gave you an experience that you'd dream of. He pulled back to yank off the rubber, and threw it away into your bathroom trash. You got up reluctantly to pull your underwear back on. But once you felt your feet hit the ground, a sharp sensation drew up your back and you stumbled onto your knees. He came running to your laid as you laid helplessly, "ow."

~~~

You two had a conversation after, establishing some boundaries. "Okay so first off," you underlined the top of the page titled, agreement. "We are not allowed to fall for each other, no romantic feelings whatsoever." He nodded in agreement as you scribbled it along the page. "Have to show some sort of affection in public for fake dating purposes... and make a public appearance at a party or something." He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "It's not that hard okay? It can be a simple gesture like a kiss on the cheek or a hug." You wrote it down.

"And I get to have my benefit whenever I want." He mentioned as he snatched the paper away from you and wrote it down. "As long as it's not in front of other people, I'd rather not flash my pussy to a stranger." He chuckled at your bluntness. "Oh right one more thing," you took the paper back. "Agreement will be void once goal is made aka I get my crush or broken." He stared hard at you, confusion in his sparky eyes. "You still want that guy? After all he did?"

You shrug your shoulders, "I mean I get it. You get lonely without someone to love. And plus, now I know the benefits of having someone." You cheekily rose your eyebrows at him in a playful way. He sighed and looked away. "I don't understand why you don't want your ex back. Didn't you two love each other?" He shook his head and you laid the paper onto the table in front of you two. "Why?" He sighs, "because she isn't you." You look at him confused, scared. "She isn't you... as friends, we have a connection, we light up around each other. I don't have that connection with her. I crave a connection if I want a relationship."

You understood what he meant. You do. You two seem to always encourage each other and be confident. You're not afraid of telling him anything. He changed the subject. "So, what did you mean that you've wanted me all these years?" Oh shit. You'd forgotten about that, your ears begun to stung. Might as well come out with the truth. "Well, I've always found you attractive. I just didn't wanna admit it."

"Yeah, I kinda have that effect on people." He flicked his imaginary long hair. You cackled out at his demeanor. "So that basically means you fantasize about me, huh?" You scoffed jokingly, "okay enough Mr. Cocky," you threw a pillow at him and he laid in defeat.

You had to begun to hang out at school with each other more. His friends had grown accustomed to you now. It was working, everyone believed you two were together. But thank god it was Friday, you hate school. You were sitting at the table where his friends were, waiting for him to arrive when you noticed his ex. Glaring at you with such fire in her eyes. "Hey," Lee Know said and you jumped once you felt his hand on your back. "Hi," he pecked you on the cheek. "You okay?" You nodded, while still looking in her direction, he noticed and followed your gaze. His eyes darkened as he noticed that she was whispering to her friends while looking at you. You felt suddenly conscious of yourself.

"Imma go okay?" You said softly to him but he grabbed your wrist to stop you. "Don't go, I'll handle it." You shook your head, "it's fine. Don't ruin anything between you two because of me." His eyes screamed at you to stay but you couldn't. You couldn't stand sitting there while she talked about you. So you walked away, feeling an ache in your stomach. You went to a nearby bathroom and washed your face. You stayed in there, looking at the mirror at your clothes. 'It could be better,' you thought. Maybe you'll go shopping.

You walked out upset and bumped into a tall boy. "Sorry," you said as you pulled away. "Y/n?" You stared up at him, that familiar face. "Hey Hyunjin." You stood silent, awaiting what he would say, it seems like he's got a lot on his mind. "Look I just wanted to say about how sorry I am for the other night. It was stupid and I don't even like the girl, I swear. I cut ties with her." You sighed heavily and put your hands in your sweaters pockets. "Let's just forget about that okay?" He nodded his head and you turned to leave.

"Wait," you stopped and looked up at him once more. "How about we go out tomorrow? So I can really make it up to you. Meet me at our spot at 3?" Your spot, you haven't been there in a long time. It's a big playground, you two would always meet up there in the past and just talk. "Sure, I'll be there." You walked away and find a stray Lee know again.

"Where'd you go?" You smacked your lips, "I have news!" His eyes creased and a small smile emerged. "Hyunjin asked me to go out tomorrow, as an apology." His smile quickly faded, and his eyes dropped down to his feet. "Isn't that good? I have to go shopping after school though, for some clothes." He nodded his head quick and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Get something nice for yourself okay?" He hands you a couple of big bills. "No, no. I don't wanna use your money." You try to hand him it back but he pulls away. You sigh reluctantly and put the money into your pocket.

He leans forward into your ear, "maybe you can buy something nice for the two of us, hm?" You instantly knew what he meant, lingerie, and your face reddened at the thought of it. "Don't be naughty."

It was the next morning, and Lee know had shown up to question you about Hyunjin. He sat next to your floor mirror on a seat cushion. "And you'll be alone?" You rolled your eyes as you grabbed your shopping bag, pulling out the new dress you bought. It's a navy blue and tight fitted, you're planning on wearing some stockings with it so you won't be completely exposed. "You're stressing too much about this." You said while walking over to your bathroom to change, bringing the bag with you. "Yeah, because I care about you."

You began to dress behind the door as you listened. "I just don't want him to try anything funny." You walked out, over to the mirror, in front of him, "It'll be fine, it's in public." He stared at you, scanning up and down and you smiled happily at the result. "So.. do you like it?" You turned to him and did a twirl. "Love, I'm not even looking at the dress." You sucked in a breath and smiled, you lifted your hair and tried to assess if it looked good. "Hmm, hair down. Only I get to see you with your hair pulled back." You knew what he meant to that too.

Which reminded you of the surprise you had for him. You had noticed a lingerie store next to the dress store. And you gave in, picking out a white set. After all it is his money, he'll enjoy it. "Hold on, I have a surprise for you." You skipped over to the bathroom and changed into it. It hugged you beautifully, a blinged out corset top with see through panties, attached was some laced stockings. It came with a light cover dress, it was flowy and very pretty. You bit your bottom lip as you gazed at yourself. Definitely out of your comfort zone, but so is everything.

"What's taking so long-" He pushed open the door and his face practically dropped. His eyes didn't know where to land. You shifted on your heels, "do you like it?" He said no words. He lifted you up from your legs and hung you over his shoulder. "Hey, what are you doing!" You screamed out and kicked your legs, it was useless. He dropped you onto your bed and quickly ran to your room door, locking it. You didn't know what he was doing, you only assumed. He wants to fuck you again.

"Get on your knees," he ordered you without hesitation. You've never seen him like this, so dominant. You slowly dragged yourself onto the floor. Gradually getting onto your knees, you looked up at him through your lashes. He slowly unzipped his pants and you gulped. You know what he wants. He pushed down his pants to his ankles along with his boxers. You stared at his length, rock hard. "You have no idea what you do to me," he said as he stroked your cheek. It felt so innocent in this setting, it soothed you. He wrapped his hand around himself and pressed it to your lips. "You know what to do."

You parted your lips slightly and pressed a soft kiss onto him. You moved his hand out of your way, replacing it with yours. And slowly, seductively, teasingly, you kitty licked at his tip. He hissed as he watched you. He grabbed your hair into a ball, holding it out of the way to enjoy the show. Finally, you pushed him into your mouth, you held down your tongue and tried your best not to gag. It was impossible and caused your eyes to fill with tears. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, and he tugged on your hair aggressively, pushing your head. You didn't care, he can use you all he likes.

"Fuck, I need you right now." You hummed against him and he moaned out loud. You were beginning to feel a glow in between your legs. He pushed your mouth off of him and you got onto the bed. He threw his shirt off and you could cum at the sight, he's so breathtaking. He ripped your sheer dress off you, "hey don't ruin it!" He growled, "my money, my girl, I can do what the hell I want." You're not his girl, you were about to correct him when he pushed aside your panties. One of his fingers entering inside of you and you moaned. Prepping you for him.

He took out a condom and once again slipped one on with one hand, what an expert. He planted his hand next to your head and kissed you softly, his kisses were always so gentle. He slipped into you, beginning a rhythm and you moaned loudly into his mouth. He pulled away, "I feel that good?" You nodded your head quick and did not even try to be quiet. Your arms slipped around his neck and you closed your eyes in pure bliss. He was grunting hard, like he was gonna finish soon. But you knew he would keep going even if he did. He started to go faster while his moans were getting louder. You felt a slight shoot get blocked off and the condom fill up.

You felt a rush of pleasure come over you, you felt your high coming in close. You started to whimper out and clawed out his back. He then began to trickle kisses down your neck but you felt a slight sucking sensation. "Don't," you said breathlessly, "I'm still going out after this." He stopped and you saw how angry his expression was. His rhythm slowed down unexpectedly and you made eye contact with him. "Keep going. I'm so close," you begged him. "Uh, uh. You want to go out still? You don't get to finish." And he denied you of finishing. He pulled out of you.

You groaned, annoyed. "Why are you so mean?" You whined as he moved away from you. He smiles, "because," and kisses your cheek. You frown. He took off his condom and threw it in the bin next to your bed, you had planned ahead by putting one there. But you had your own ideas. As he laid beside you and stared at the ceiling, your hand slipped off your panties. Your hand slipped down between your folds, and circled your clit. You moaned out as you stared at Lee know, making eye contact. He shook his head disapprovingly. You were only to this to make him realize he made a mistake.

"Mm, Lee know," his name slipped out of your lips so easily. You made sure to sound as breathless as possible. It was working as you saw he was getting hard again. "I won't engage," he told you but you knew he was lying. "Fine," you stopped and got on top of him. "You won't play with me?" You grabbed his now hard length and held it lined up to your entrance. "Y/n, don't. I'm not wearing-" You ignored him as you slid down slowly. You braced yourself onto his stomach and moaned out pathetically, why did he never let you experience it raw before? It's addictive.

He feels crazy good. You can feel every ridge and curve. Everything hits the right spot. "Oh my god," you gripped onto his chest. "Oh my god," you screamed out in glee. The build up is threatening to snap, and you love how it's feels right before it does. "Thats it, my love. Let it out," he whispered sweetly to you. Snap. And you go falling down onto him.

~~~

He begged you not to go, but you weren't going to stand up Hyunjin. You couldn't... At least not without an explanation. You walked over to the park, he was no where to be found. Your phone began to ring, unknown caller. You answered it, "hello?" There was a sudden burst of laughter, a girl. "Oh y/n. Did you really think he was gonna go? You're quite stupid to think that." You recognized the voice, Lee knows ex. "He ditched me?" There was a noise of scramble on the other side. "Hello y/n." Hyunjin. You gritted your teeth. "I like your dress, very revealing. Did you go shopping for me?" You looked around and saw no one, suddenly you felt cold and began to walk out of the park.

"Why are you doing this?" He laughed softly to himself. "It's payback, you betrayed me by getting with Lee know." Anger began to pelt up inside you, "I never betrayed you. You betrayed me." He laughed once again. "But something smells fishy doesn't it? I think it's you." Just then you turned when a loud car pasted by, the window was down. Splash. You were hit with a bucketload of water. You gasped as you fell to the ground from the weight. You screamed when you saw a fish had been through with it. You didn't know what to do, you ran.

Home. You don't know where that is. All you knew was him. You needed him. His comfort. His words. You needed to go to him.

~~~

You knocked on his door repeatedly and rang the doorbell. Clutching your soaked body and sobbing out. The door swung open fast, when his eyes landed on you. He had a look who could kill. "Who did this to you?" You didn't want to answer. You knew he would go after him and that's the last thing you wanted. "It's none of your business." You said calmly. "You're my fucking business. What happened?" He spit out his words and tears flowed down your cheeks once again. "I'm gonna kill him." He stormed past you but you clutched onto his arm. "Please don't leave me. I need you here."

His gaze softened and immediately took you into his arms. "I'm not gonna leave you, I swear." You smelled, really bad. But he didn't care. He held you for so long. You wish he would never let go. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He led you inside and into his bathroom. He lives alone. You remember that, no siblings, parents gone. It must be awfully lonely. He sat you down on the toilet lid while he turned on the water for a bath. Putting bubbles in it. You laughed amused to yourself, he has bubbles for himself?

He looked confused at you, "feeling better?" Your face fell sullen again. "Get undressed," he said and pulled you off the seat. You pulled the dress off and the stockings. He picked them up and waited for you to take off the rest. You turned away from him and took off your underwear. You got into the water and sat down. He left with your clothes and came back with his own, a hoodie and some shorts. Sigh, no underwear. He was respectful when he came over to you, only looked at your face. Nothing else. He scrubbed you clean and gently rubbed shampoo into your hair.

You could've done it yourself but he insisted. He said he felt bad for letting you go. For letting them get to you. "I'm sorry this happened y/n." At least one person actually cares for you. He left so you can dry yourself and get dressed. After you did, you walked into his living room. Wandering around his place and found him in the kitchen. He had a pan of butter grilling, while he was cutting some freshly washed asparagus. "Hey, hope you like steak,' he said as you walked to his side. There was a plate of seasoned meat sitting next to the cutting board. "You're the whole package, huh. Everything a girl would hope for." He laughed softly, "hope she comes soon."

~~~

You had slept at his place that night, after having a full tummy and a movie night on his couch. You got to talking. "Tell me a lie that you've told yourself all your life." He asked while putting an arm on the couch behind your back. You smile softly, "that we can't be friends. I should've given you a chance a long time ago." You laid your head against his arm, your body still facing him. "So you don't hate me anymore?" You didn't want to admit it so you just smiled and looked down.

"Say you hate me, y/n." You glared at him, challenge in your eyes. "Say it," he curved his head and gave you a stern look. You tried to lose your smile but laughed when you said, "I hate you." His tone was playful. "Say it like you mean it." A smile crept up on your lips, "I can't."

You two were silent now. "I don't hate you Lee know. I guess your charm has finally won me over." He pulled your body close to his, "good. We can finally be friends now, best friends." Your eyes began to drop, heavy with sleep, "Yeah, I would like that." You fell asleep. And woke up in his bed.

"Good morning sleepy head," he said sitting up. You stretched out, looking down at his hoodie. Forgetting that you had it. "What time is it?" You mumbled and rubbed your eyes. "Time to wake up," he said while grabbing his phone. "Look at this," he flashed a photo up at you, a picture of you lying on his chest. "Delete it," he shook his head. "It's my new wallpaper." You tackled him, attempting to snatch the phone out of his hand. You huffed once he shoved it into his bedside drawer. "Come here," he whispered and motioned to his lap. He pulled you over, and you laid onto him, straddling on him.

You set your head between the cradle of his neck and shoulder. Your arms resting around his neck. This feels nice. Comforting. "Thank you," you grazed your fingertips against his arms. His arms wrapped around your waist. "For what?" His chest flowed up and down, "for being here, with me." He hummed and traced his hand up your spine. "You're being so sweet all of a sudden." Your head slowly raised and your thumb lined his lips, "I'm just happy I have you." He looked at you suspiciously, "you want something don't you?"

Your eyes snapped up at him and he tilted his head in confusion. You smiled, he caught you, "feel like exploring?" He sighed and tried to look annoyed. He looked up at you with a soft look and stroked your cheek, "I didn't think you would want to do anything.. Aren't you tired?" You shook your head, you leaned forward to his neck. Removed his hands from your cheek and sprinkled kisses. He pulled back and you frowned, "I want you to do what I did for you the other day.. the stuff with my mouth?" His tongue rolled inside, along his cheek. He cheekily smiled, "You want me to do that to you?" You nodded your head and pouted.

"Aww, anything for you," he rolled you over onto your back. He pressed his lips against yours softly, igniting you. You pulled him to stay, gripping his sleeves. You moaned against his lips once you felt his hand pulling at your shorts. "I like seeing you in my clothes," he whispered against your lips. "I like being in them," you teased him back, "but I'd rather not have any on with you." He tilted his head once again in surprise. You took the opportunity to scatter your mouth against his neck. This time he cooperated. "You're becoming more and more like me."

You smiled against his neck and began to suck against the sensitive skin. He pulled away after a few seconds, he looked down at you, "oh so when you do it, it's okay?" You shrugged your shoulders, "you can do it to me if you want." He immediately got to action. He pressed his lips to your neck, you felt yourself flush. He sucking harshly and you winced softly, he kissed down your collarbones and lifted your shirt. Sucking on your breasts, it seemed it was letters of some sort.

He finally stopped after a while, he kissed your lips. "Ready?" You smiled and he crawled down your body. Your hands laid on your chest comfortably. Once his wet lips pressed against your inner thigh, you gasped. You almost closed your thighs in surprise. "Just relax for me, baby." You did and released the tension. He softly laid your legs onto his back. You could feel his hot breath on your core and it was driving you crazy. Finally, he set his lips onto you. Your hands crashed into his hair.

He kissed your clit softly causing your body to jolt. His eyes looked up at you, dark and sparkling. He looks perfect like this. You grab your phone from the bedside table, he put it there to you. A capture an array of pictures of him, "do I look pretty?" He asks and you nod your head. His tongue makes its way and pushes into you. The pressure building in your stomach. You set the phone down beside you. He attacked your clit again, sucking and kissing while his fingers entered inside you. It was too much, your body enjoyed it too much. You let go. Cracked.

You felt light headed, minutes, hours seemed to pass by in a second. "Holy shit, are you okay?" You nodded your head and a warm presence kissed your cheek. You cooled down and hugged his body close to yours. "Feel like going out tonight?" He asked softly, looking into your eyes lovingly. "Yeah, but I want more." You said as you pulled the covers over you two.

~

"I have nothing to wear!" You cried out in your closet. "You have plenty of clothes, you just went shopping." You searched in the pile of clothes on your floor, "I don't know if I want to wear a skirt or a dress or pants." He sighed heavily, "it's gonna rain tonight." You frowned and picked up a pair of pants, better to be comfy than cold. "I'll would wear a revealing top to better the outfit. But someone decided to leave hickeys that say MINE on me." You pulled out a shirt and showed him it. He crossed his arms, "wear what you want. I can fight."

You hit him with the shirt, "there will be no fighting tonight. I want just want to chill and enjoy a beer." You pull the clothes on quickly and turn to him, shooting him a look that says 'how do I took?' "You look beautiful," he cringes immediately after the compliment leaves his lips and you giggle to yourself. "Wow, can't say anything nice without cringing."

~

The party was pretty boring. No fights. No arguments. Just what you wanted. Just a night to chill with some friends and your brother. Chan questioned you about where you were, "you were gone the whole night." You pushed him away, "like you're not gone for days at a time. I had a rough night and crashed at a friend's." He seemed to believe you and moved on. It was technically true. Lee know is your friend.. friend with benefits? Fuck buddy? Best friend? One of those.

You walked over to a group where Lee know was chatting with his buddies. They tried to tease him by lifting up his shirt but he quickly dodged their attempts. "Come on guys. You know he doesn't like anyone touching or seeing his scar," Chan scolded. Your eyes darted to Lee know. He doesn't? But he let you, he didn't care when you saw him, saw his scar. When you traced your fingers along it. "Whatever, I need a drink." He walked away from the group and he grazed along your arm for you to follow. You did, and immediately questioned him, "I didn't know you didn't like when people touch you there." He didn't answer for a while. "I don't." You whispered softly to him as he grabbed a cup. "But you let me."

"Isn't it obvious y/n?" He took a big gulp out of his cup, chugging it down. "What is?" He looked into your eyes, searching for something, something that you should already know the answer to. "Never mind," he shook his head off and began pouring himself another drink. "No, what? Tell me." You snatched the cup out of his hands and he almost pouted. He leaned against the table, "I'd only let you because... I have a soft spot for you, I think you know the reason why." You blinked heavily, "but I want you to tell me, not for me to just guess." You looked down at the beer in your hands and took a small sip, it's bitter.

"I'll tell you later," he grabbed the cup back from you and took a sip. "You either tell me now or never." You walked away from him, he followed behind and you went outside. To have an actual private conversation. Its raining. You stopped at the end of the driveway, next to your brother's car, and awaited his answer. His hands were in his pockets and he stared at the ground. Water dripping down his hair and body naughtily. "So?" He looked up and shook his head, you sighed heavily. "God, you're such a coward." He furrows his brows, "excuse me?"

"You're a fucking coward. You talk all this nonsense saying you're sure about yourself and you're really not. You're pathetic." He raised his tone, "fine you really want to know?" You stood, wet, the question was seeping into your skin.

"I love you y/n."

You blinked a thousand times again. You stepped back and shook your head in disbelief. Disappointment. You both agreed that your relationship wouldn't go past any feelings. "Is that so hard to believe?" He said since you weren't saying anything. "I thought we agreed no strings attached, that this would never turn into something." He groaned and his hands flew up into his face, rubbing against it crazily. "How could you have not known, y/n? All these years I've waited for you, tried to get your attention just so you would look at me, like me!" You swallowed down a build up in your throat, feeling a heavy feeling. "It's you, y/n. It's always been you. Why can't you see it?"

"I don't chase girls, I never have. I never wanted to. But I'm chasing you." You fist your hands into a ball. He tries to approach you but you push him away. "Don't push me away," he pleads. "I'd like to go home now." You said bluntly. His eyes saddened, glassy with tears. You walked to his car, the rain was pouring down even harder. You turned angrily at him. "Why? Why now? Why did you never tell me this!" He shakes his head, "I didn't know how to say it." He paused. "But it's true, I love you y/n. And I never want to stop saying it." Tears begin to mix with the rain pouring down your cheeks. "I have loved you ever since I have known you."

"You're fucked up, you're fucking everything up!" He nodded his head and walked in a different direction, past you. You chased after him. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." He stopped next to his car, "what is there to talk about? I know you don't like me." The feeling in your chest was heavy, you know what you have to do. What to say. You find the words in your heart, you know what you feel for him. "I love you." He stops. "You're actually stupid if you don't realize how much I love you," you add and smile.

You look into his eyes, his mesmerizing eyes. "But I have to make sure, that you really do love me-" "yes." He cuts you off so sure of himself, like it's as easy as breathing. "Yes, I love you y/n," he runs up to you and involves you into a kiss. It's sweet and soft, butter against your lips. "There's never gonna be anyone but you." You smile, a smile so big and genuine, you feel as if you're floating. It dawns on you, "my brother is going to kill me when he finds out." He laughs against your lips, "don't worry about that."

~~~~~~~~

[sailorrlino]

Rodeo | lmh (m)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Pairing: hitman!Minho x arms dealer! F. reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 Summary: Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. He likes it that way. When you appear on his target list, his relationship with you becomes quite the opposite - complicated, rough, and unreliable. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 Word Count: 18,249

𓆩⟡𓆪 Genre: Cyberpunk | Smut | Angst | Peers to Something

𓆩⟡𓆪 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 Warnings: Violence, world building, murder, discussion of murder, depictions of blood and fight sequences, brief mentions of drugs, depictions of wounds and treating them with syringes if you don’t like needles, explicit language, depiction of an anxiety attack, angst and self-doubt, Minho being an idiot, gun fights and scenes with weapons, some vague terms and references specific to the world building, sexually explicit content featuring oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, cum eating, bodily fluids, and mentions of spit in several places. I think that covers everything, for the most part. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N: This is what happens when writers just write what they're inspired for. After almost two months of being unable to write, I got this random idea and I just went with it and took advantage of the moment and... genuinely had so much fun writing this. It got so much longer and more complex than I meant to, but I hope you enjoy.

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N 2: This work is heavily inspired by Fallout 4, Blade Runner, Altered Carbon and the lovely song Rodeo by WayV. I imagine Rodeo playing during the shootout scene at the bar. Additionally, a fun fact: I use the nato alphabet to communicate Minho's targets and reader's target in this spells out 'reader' in the nato alphabet :)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Posted: Sunday, March 3 2024

𓆩⟡𓆪 Disclaimer: All members of Stray Kids are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Tag List Request Form | Song Inspiration

Any work is good work. 

Minho isn’t so sure that his father would say that as he crouches down next to the body on the living room floor. His thigh muscles protest, aching and tight from hours of sitting crouched across the street in the chill of a high-rise building waiting for his prey to enter this very building. 

Neon light bleeds through the foggy window behind him. The room is awash in watery pink as he pulls out his scanner with one hand and leans forward with the other, pressing his gloved fingers to the man's chin to push his head to the side. It rolls easily, giving a fleshy sound that might make someone squeamish as the man’s cheek hits the floor. 

Any work is good work, Minho thinks as he scans the man's non-existent pulse with his watch. He sees the blue ring of the biochip flash beneath cooling flesh, his watch flashing green with a soft buzz. The man’s entire life flashes on the screen - full name, date of birth, ID number, blood type, and place of work. Everything about him casts a sickly green glow on Minho’s sharp face.

Tapping a few buttons on the watch face, he waits, holding his wrist near his mouth as the sound of a dial tone chimes once. It’s silent in the apartment, though he can hear the hum of airborne traffic a few blocks off as the roar of adrenaline winds down. 

“Receiving,” a male voice answers. Minho doesn’t know who it is - he just knows he’s one of any of the Delegators who work for Collect Co. 

“Collection request number alpha-echo-tango-delta complete, served by Collector 102598.” 

“Collected alpha-echo-tango-delta confirmed. Please place a beacon before you leave. All credits for this Collection have been transferred to your account. Please wait five to seven business days before funds are available for use. Your next collection is in four hours, seven minutes, and eight United Seconds.” 

The line goes dead. The glow of the watch makes him squint before he can lower his brightness, scrolling to his bank account. He sees the credits added with a transaction pending. When he was a kid, the number glowing at the bottom of the screen to indicate his balance might have excited him. Now, it’s just a number on a screen that confirms the power won’t go out at his apartment and that he won’t go hungry.

Minho’s knees crack as he stands. He groans and leans backward, pressing his hands into the small of his back. A series of cracks slither up his spine, making his eyes roll back as he shuts them for a moment and shivers. 

He’s so goddamn sore.

Leaving the body on the carpet of the living area, he goes over to pick up the handgun resting on the counter. The energy weapon glows at his touch, syncing with his interface briefly before he holsters it inside his jacket. 

While he is technically within the law to eliminate targets for Collect Co., Minho finds that most people find it unsettling when Collectors walk around with weapons. He hasn’t given much thought to what people think about him, but it certainly causes a lot less trouble when he looks like an average businessman going to and from work instead of a licensed killer.

The gun isn’t technically legal, either. He would probably get away with it if a United Enforcer stopped him. The hitmen of the privately funded but government-sanctioned Collect Co., do not technically outrank the government’s militia, but no one with a badge is going to tell a Collector no. Not if they can help it, anyway.

Tossing a beacon on the counter for the cleanup crew to track to the apartment and get rid of the body and clean, Minho heads outside into the rain. He ducks his head down against it, water sliding off the slicker jacket he hugs a little tighter. He feels warmth kick in and his mouth twitches at the sign of the heating system in the body armor on his chest is doing its job. A nifty little upgrade from you, he knows. 

At the thought of you, Minho turns north toward the speed train, remembering that he needs an adjustment on his armor that is out of sync with his watch, and JumpPacks. He already used the last one about five hours ago and he feels the numbness of exhaustion buzzing at his edges, a warning sign that if he doesn’t get a jump or sleep he’s going to pass out.

Whichever comes first. 

Smears of color splash across the wet sidewalk as he jogs down the steps to the train. It smells wet and foul, making him tuck his chin to his chest as he rushes to the fast-closing door of the train. He steps over the threshold just as the doors clang shut, the hissing of an airlock barely finishing before it launches forward. 

He tenses to avoid being pitched forward into one of the standing railings. As the train rocks, the fluorescents above nearly blinding him, he finds a seat toward the back of an empty car. This late at night, there are only two other people in sight, both of them curled heaps of clothes on a seat, fast asleep. 

Sleep tugs at him the moment Minho sits down. He has a twenty-minute ride to North Ward Three, dropping his head against the back of the seat and closing his eyes. 

The light still hums behind his closed lids, making a splash of colors. There’s no sound save for the whine of the magnetic rail beneath his feet and the occasional mechanical creek as the vehicle sways. 

He melts into the seat a little, limbs loose. Fuck he needs a JumpPack. The last forty-eight hours awake are wearing him thin at the edges, stretching him like fabric over a surface far too wide. The forty-eight-hour mark is when he starts to decline, and as soon as he starts to creep toward seventy, he knows it’ll get messy. 

Minho is a lot of things, but he is ultimately human. The JumpPack can help him push beyond shaky hands, imagining things that aren’t there and the foggy thinking, but they won’t keep him sharp forever. 

As if proving his point, Minho hangs somewhere between awake and asleep, suspended in a dreamy space where he can still feel the rocking of the train but doesn’t feel the ache in his limbs or the pressure growing behind his eyes. 

He flinches when the chime echoes above him at the next stop, eyes flying wide for a moment as his gaze sweeps the train car, his hand on the inside of his jacket where he grips the handle of a very nice knife. 

No one enters the car. It’s just him and the other two sleeping people - he isn’t sure they’re even alive, really - and he relaxes, cursing at himself. This time when he drifts, he does so with a little more awareness, hand tucked warm against his chest and wrapped firmly around the blade.

It’s a unique little knife, snug in the sheath that’s buckled to the leather harness under his jacket. The handle is firm and made from non-conductive material that fits his exact grip from the meticulous measurements you took of his hand. You crafted the blade from a metal alloy you’d been playing around with and lined it with a highly conductive silver alloy you’d perfected.

When the button on the end of the handle is pressed, 5,000 volts of lethal electricity pulses through the sliver, finishing off a victim if he manages to fuck up a killing blow. It’s saved his life a few times in situations like now when he’s exhausted and his guard is blurry, or when someone has decided to make him the target for robbery. 

A lot of your little gadgets have saved his life. You like to remind him every time he visits you. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re an easy enough arms dealer - easier than anyone else in the city, really. You don’t ask the kind of questions that he doesn’t want to answer, and you’re always two steps ahead of him. Even your prices are fair, which he used to find suspicious. 

But Changbin and Jisung both swear by your tech and your business, and Minho is just happy that he doesn’t have to worry about you trying to give him a shitty deal or fuck him over. 

The Collection industry is made for fucking over. He knows the system can be fucked with, especially the closer to the top you get. 

Almost everyone tries to fuck Minho over. More than once he’s shown up as a Collection Request. He doesn’t know if it’s the system trying to clean up after itself or someone pulling strings to get him out of their way. It’s probably both, but every time it happens, he’s managed to evade it. 

A Reverse Collection, those in his industry call it. In a way, it’s sort of like a pop quiz. He gets attacked or shot at, and if he wins, he passes the test and reverses the Collection, earning him more time without any coworkers trying to murder him. The Delegators don’t seem to care which Collector murders the other, and he’s never suffered for coming out on top. 

Any work is good work. 

Minho snorts at the thought, feeling the deep twinge in his extremities as he rouses himself, the train coming to his stop. 

Rain sluices the streets in North Ward Three. Here, the streets are busier with an assault of people, smells, and sounds. LED umbrellas float along like jellyfish as people walk from pleasure house to food stand to fight arena. The hologram advertisements and neon signs are louder here, inescapable. 

“The United Republic stands for justice, equality, prosperity and freedom, bought by the noble sacrifice of the United Church. Join us today-” Minho presses the ad blocker on his watch. 

Immediately the holograms vanish and there’s just the neon watercolor reflecting off the umbrellas as he walks down the stairs of Neon Rodeo, the orange lights making his eyes throb as he reaches the door manned by two guards. 

They know him immediately but they scan the biochip in his neck anyway. When they’re pleased, they step aside and the door slides automatically, the base vibrating his ribcage as he steps into the dingy light, hesitating to let his eyes adjust.

True to the name, there is neon fucking everywhere. The servers are dressed in chaps with LED lights and glittering tassels, their cowboy hats flashing smiling faces on top of their head. The neon here is low-grade and covered in layers of dust, giving the air a dusky, burning sort of glow as he walks around tables.

Eyes follow him as he goes. The regulars are familiar with him, tipping their head in greeting though he doesn’t do more than watch them from the corner of his eyes. The servers all slow-smile at him, teeth too white and too glittering. He finds them more unsettling than attractive, and he quickens his step to the unmarked door at the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool.

Hyunjin is perhaps the most unsettling thing in the Neon Rodeo. His eyes are a strange grey, looking at Minho as he approaches. There is a predatory gaze in Hyunjin’s eyes that never fades, a sort of knowing in them that Minho can’t shake. Minho knows Hyunjin is entirely human, but every time he approaches the man, Minho is suddenly unsure. 

Nightcrawler.

Minho has heard the whispers about Hyunjin. He believes them, too. Everything about Hyunjin is like a carefully balanced blade, ready to tip in either direction. His senses are honed to perfection and he has a habit of both blending in and standing out depending on his mood. 

And he can kill. Minho has seen the lethal man in action a single time when someone tried to push past him into the Builder’s sanctuary. Hyunjin had been so fast that even Minho had a hard time keeping up, struck by how efficiently and quickly the former assassin moved.

Unnatural. Everything about him is uncanny, which is in line with everything Minho has heard about the underground sect of killers. What Minho does is legally sanctioned murder. The Nightcrawlers do something far more sinister, their skills going beyond the natural desire for order in the United Republic. 

Agents of disorder and chaos. That’s what some say. Minho isn’t sure where his opinion lands on the spectrum, but he gives them a healthy distance and respect either way.

Even the way Hyunjin sits on the barstool is unnatural, one foot kicked up on the bar between his legs, the other stretched out in front of him as he leans forward, his hand on the front lip of the seat. 

“Hello, Cowboy,” Hyunjin greets, voice deep and smooth. 

His hair is blonde today, slicked back out of his face, the ends touching his shoulders. He’s dressed in a black button-up with a cow print pattern across the shoulders and white, beaded tassels outlining the pattern. His dark pants are tight and he makes no effort to hide the gun on his waist or the knife handle peeking out the top of his cowboy boot.

“I don’t like when you call me that.”

Hyunjin’s smile makes the hair on Minho’s arms stand on end. “I know, but I like it.”

The guard makes no move to let Minho in and he tries not to show he’s irritated. By the way the grin spreads on Hyunjin’s face, Minho can safely assume he isn’t doing a great job. “Is the Builder in or not?” 

“Who is to say?” 

“Just tell her I’m here.” 

“If she’s in, she already knows.” Hyunjin nods toward an empty stool at the bar. “You can wait, Cowboy.” 

Gritting his teeth, Minho turns on his heel to sit on the stool a few feet away. Hyunjin’s uncanny eyes follow him, never leaving him once. Minho ignores him in favor of asking for water at the bar, the headache pressing behind his eyes growing more intense with the loud music and the choking smell of cigars. 

When the water comes back, it’s warm without ice. He glares at the bartender who has already moved on to paying customers. The water is tepid and a little sour, making him cringe. He’s pretty sure it came from the faucet, but he sips on it anyway, eying the grimy fingerprints on the glass. 

A cowgirl slides up next to him, her pink vest pulled tight across her chest, showing sweat-slick skin. She smells like vanilla, the scent overpowering as she leans in, lacquered lips grinning.

“Don’t,” Minho grunts, sipping the water. “Not interested.”

“But you’re so pretty.”

A severe reprimand dies on his tongue as Hyunjin appears like a wraith, leaning in close to murmur, “Builder is ready for you, Cowboy.” 

The cowgirl cowers away from the Nightcrawler, pressing up against the counter and fleeing as soon as he slinks away. If Hyunjin is offended, he doesn’t show it. He slips back onto the stool with that same eager lean, watching Minho through narrowed eyes as the Collector gets up and walks briskly to the now-open door. 

Minho doesn’t turn around when the door shuts behind him, immediately cutting off all sound. The door leads to a step of steps, mirrored walls on either side with glowing orange light strips above them. He climbs the stairs as quickly as he can, his head swimming a little as he gets to the top. 

The entire second floor is a massive, open-concept workshop. Tables covered with papers and instruments are placed in a chaotic maze, glowing screens with slow-spinning schematics and drawings giving the space a clinical, blue light. Workbenches with user interfaces hum along the corners of the room. Closed metal doors and offices stretch down a hall toward the pack, all under high-tech padlocks and surely protected with some sort of weapon system, if Minho had to guess.

Amid the organized chaos is you. The Builder. 

Minho hates calling you that. He thinks it’s a little ridiculous of a title, but it suits you. There is nothing in this room you haven’t built and no weapon on his person that was not carefully crafted by you. He hesitates to watch you, standing at the edge of your luminescent domain as you lean over something, a small welding tool in your hand. 

“Do you need a formal invitation, Cowboy?” 

He doesn’t mind the name from you. He tells himself that it’s because, despite his predisposition to not liking people, he doesn’t dislike you. You’re easy to deal with, sort of like the weapons you make. You make his life functional and you’re to the point. He admires that, and he’s willing to take a little bit of prodding and joking from you as a trade-off.

Wordlessly, he floats toward you. You don’t look up to greet him, but you kick your foot out and hook the toe of your boot underneath the leg of a stool to pull it out for him to sit on. He can smell a hint of jasmine and amber wafting from where you sit, making him clench his jaw as he fights a shiver. 

“I don’t have long,” he says, forgoing the seat. “Just need JumpPacks and wanted to drop off my armor. It’s having trouble connecting with the interface of the watch. I hit it pretty hard last night and I think I damaged the receiver.” 

That gets your attention, drawing your sharp gaze up to him. But instead of dropping your eyes to his chest where the flexible armor stretches across his chest, you zero in on Minho’s face. 

Your silence is uncomfortable, but he remains unmoving, willing himself to stay in place under your calculating gaze. You lean forward, eyes drinking him in, examining him the way you would a schematic for a weapon or a complicated piece of data. 

Minho busies himself with looking at you in return. There’s a crease growing deeper in your brow and your pretty mouth - he doesn’t remember when he started thinking it was pretty - begins to dip, displeased at something you find in his face. 

“When is the last time you slept?”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” You level a stare at him and he feels his mouth twitch. Minho thinks besides the occasional joke from Jisung - which he defines as Jisung accidentally hurting himself - you might be the only person who makes him want to smile. “Fifty-two hours, eighteen minutes and forty United Seconds.”

“No to the JumpPack,” you say finally. “Sleep.”

“I have another target in three hours, twenty-eight minutes and fifteen United Seconds.” 

“Down the hall and second door on the right. Sleep for two hours. It won’t kill you.” He opens his mouth to protest you cut him off, “I’ll be done by the time you’re up. Take off your armor.” 

His hands open and close. You’ve never declined a JumpPack before. You’ve definitely never offered sleep before. He stands buoyed by his confusion before he reluctantly sheds the jacket. It crinkles in the silence as he shucks it from his shoulder and neatly folds it, placing it on the stool you had intended for him to sit on. 

Next, he sheds the holster, his gun, and a few knives clanking as he does. You seem amused by the amount of weapons he’s managed to shove in the leather straps and he shrugs a little at your arched brow. 

Minho’s shirt is more armor than a shirt. It’s made from highly coveted synthetic material with hard but flexible geometric pieces stitched in that sync with his watch to turn on a light energy shield, pulse when there’s an energy weapon aimed at him, and generally keep anyone from being able to stab him. You’ve also added little things like warming sensors and anti-theft. 

Delicately, Minho peels off the shirt. He marvels as it moves, surprised at the give and flex of the material every time. He hands it over and you snatch it, tossing it on your work counter as if it’s not the most expensive piece of technology he owns. 

Immediately he’s covered in goosebumps. Your studio is bitter cold and you always wear sweaters and jackets with sleeves pulled over your hands. You’re dressed as such now, the too-long sleeves on your arms pooling over your hands as he stands there, trying not to shiver. 

You pay no mind to his armor, instead standing up and twisting your mouth in a frown as your gaze skirts his chest and stomach. For a second he feels self-conscious, which he thinks is a little ridiculous as he glances down his chest. He realizes there is bruising blooming across him, spider webbing across to show when the armor unsynced and he took a few hard punches. 

Minho holds his breath when you lift your hands, as though you’re going to brush the tips of your fingers over each wound. Your hands are smaller than his and far more delicate, nimble fingers reminding him of artists. His mother was an artist. Her slim hands and careful brushstrokes are one of the few things he remembers about her. 

That, and that she chose to leave him.

Minho finds himself so hypnotized by your hands that your voice startles him when you say, “Three hours, twenty-seven minutes and five seconds, Cowboy.” 

You drop your hands and step away. He nods and sheds his watch as well, handing it over. “Alright.” 

With heavy footsteps, he follows the directions to the appointed room. He’s a little off balance, his hip catching the corner of a table as he goes. He curses loudly, hands shooting to his hip where pain blooms from the jab. Your laughter trills behind him and he scowls over his shoulder at you, but you’re unfolding his armored shirt. 

Muttering under his breath, he goes to the hall to the second door on the right. He’s never been in the hall before, but there are several doors lining each side. He carefully tries the handle, glancing up at the ceiling where a camera stares at him. 

The handle gives under his hand easily and he swings the door open to what looks like a very small and well-kept medical room. He raises his brows as he steps in and closes the door behind him. There’s no lock on the door, his finger brushing across the handle to find one. He thinks about grabbing the chair tucked into the desk and sticking it under the handle, but the thought evaporates as quickly as it forms.

He’s not in danger here. 

Slowly, he trods to the cot. It’s a standard size with a thin mattress and scratchy blankets. Carefully, he sits down and immediately his body sighs. Minho’s eyelids flutter as he sags for a second, shoulders rolling inward as he curves in on himself, exhaustion pressing in. 

He needs to take off his boots, but his arms feel heavy. He promises himself that he’ll do it in five more minutes before he gives up and lays down on his side, kicking his feet up boots and all onto the cot. The room is cool so he reaches for the blankets, uncaring that they scrape against his bumps and bruises. 

The last fifty-some-odd hours begin to press in on Minho, a physical force that squeezes everything out of him until he’s fading fast into a heavy, dreamless sleep. 

-

A gentle knock pulls Minho from a heavy sleep. He feels the dregs of it like a weighted shadow he can’t shake off, groaning and blinking at the ceiling a few times. His limbs feel heavier than ever and his neck cracks as he rolls it to the side to look at the room he’s in.

He suddenly remembers where he is, flinching a little as he sits up, movements jerky with nervousness. The room is still dark and cool, the itchy blanket falling to the floor as he sits and stares toward the door where there’s another knock. 

“Come in,” he rasps, voice deep and rough with sleep.

A crack of light appears in the doorway as you slip in. You’ve got your arms full of stuff, using your elbow to smack the touchpad near the door. Dark orange light fills the room, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt his vision but bright enough to see that the stuff you’ve brought in is food and several bottles of water and some sort of blue liquid.

Minho eyes all of it warily, straightening as you stand in front of him, holding it out. He doesn’t move to take it and your mouth presses in a flat, firm line. “I know Collectors don’t have to be smart, but I do assume you know how to utilize the main food groups of the pyramid.”

He can smell the jasmine and amber again, soothing. “Why did you bring me food?”

“Because you look like shit, Cowboy. Don’t go losing your mind over a small gesture of goodwill.” 

Chagrined, he snatches the items from your hand. He immediately realizes that there are energy bars, protein bars, and packs of gel that will replenish immediate levels of hormones and vitamins. He eyes you curiously as he sets the pile on the bed next to him, ripping a foil back open with his teeth.

You cross the room to lean against the medical table in the corner, crossing your arms over your chest. When he doesn’t eat right away, you raise your brows, waiting. He pops the end of a gel back in his mouth and squeezes, immediately tasting blueberry and lemonade. It’s not half bad, making him hum in fascination.

That gets a grin from you, his mouth twitching at the corner again as he works the gel in his mouth to break it apart.

“Fixed your armor. How hard did you knock the watch?” His guilty expression tells all and you scowl. “It’s made with durast carbonate. It’s pretty shockproof.” 

“Didn’t mean to. Some guy’s goons jumped me when I was calling in the Collection. It um… took a bullet.” 

“How did they get the jump on you, hmm?” He stares. “Were you tired?” 

Instead of answering, he tosses the empty gel back on the bed and picks up a protein bar. He looks at it, squinting his eyes in the dim light. It’s peanut butter flavored, which he enjoys. He rips it open with his teeth and tears into it, realizing just how hungry he is.

Minho has no idea when his last meal was. He thinks you know his line of thinking, but you don’t say anything more. You’ve already gotten your barbs in and you don’t intend to poke until he’s truly annoyed or embarrassed, which he appreciates.

Without another word, you push off the desk and head to the door, slipping back through to leave him alone while he chews absently. 

Alone, Minho realizes the importance of accepting food from you without second-guessing it. He slows his chewing, contemplating about that. 

Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. Your tech has never failed him, you’ve always been reliable for a fast turnaround time or understanding of what he’s asking for, and you’ve never sold information about him.

Ever. He had tried to buy information from you on himself through multiple channels and pseudonyms just to see if you would, but he’d been met with steely silence each time. 

He eats with a little more enthusiasm as he realizes he does trust you. You’re as steadfast as the guns you build, and there is a confidence in that that he can at least resonate with.

Examining the contents of the blue liquid, he realizes it’s electrolytes and mineral compounds. As he takes long gulps, he realizes he feels infinitely better already, senses sharp, aches a little less terrible, and his headache is gone entirely. He’s not at a hundred percent, but he’s a hell of a lot better than if he had waited around for his next Collection. 

When he finishes, he crumbles the trash together and tosses it into the incinerator. He hears the fire hiss as it destroys the waste and sends the fumes somewhere to be turned into energy. 

In the main part of your lab, Minho spots you. He hesitates in the hall for a moment, watching you play with his watch. Movement in the corner of the room makes him tense up, hand going to the knife in his boot. He realizes it’s just Jeongin sliding across the room on a rolling chair, pushing away from his computer to examine what you’re doing.

Minho only relaxes marginally. He’s still getting used to seeing your apprentice in your workspace, and though the youth is excitable and intelligent, Minho refuses to let Jeongin near any of his builds. The trust he’s established with you over the last three years does not extend to apprentices he’s only known for a few months, no matter how much you trust them.

You trust the Nightcrawler too, and Minho cannot fathom why. 

As though sensing you on the edge of the room, you turn and look at him over your shoulder. The corner of your mouth lifts up and you beckon him eagerly before hunching over whatever you’re working on again. He strolls over, crossing his arms over his chest to lean against your worktable on the other side of you, eyeing Jeongin on your other side.

“Hello, Collector. How are you today?” Jeongin asks politely, giving Minho a smile that touches his eyes.

Minho says nothing. You elbow him sharply in the ribs and he coughs, clutching his stomach as he mumbles, “Fine, you?”

“Doing great, thanks! This piece of tech is a marvel.”

“My watch?”

It is his watch. A green light flashes on the underside of the face, the bio scanner that connects with the one with his neck to monitor his nervous system. You push the watch toward him and he carefully picks it up, brushing his thumb across the cool, glass screen.

An interface lights up again. He can’t figure out what’s so special until you gesture for him to put it on. It fits nicely, the perfect size. As he slides it into place and looks at the watch face, a diagram of thin body armor comes up, spinning. Except it looks different than the diagram that he’s used to, giving you a questioning look. You point to the corner of the room at a mannequin.

He walks over to it, cocking his head to the side as he stops in front of it. It’s far different from the armored shirt he wears. The contraption is equal parts ribcage and the thorax of a spider. The material looks like leather but feels hard to the touch like metal. 

Skirting his fingers to the hem, he bends the bottom of the shirt, watching as it flexes easily. It makes no sense to him how something could be so hard and flex immediately. If he were to guess, whatever the cloth is made from is a newer technology than he has access to. Perhaps more bio-engineered spider web. 

Minho’s fingers skirt inside of it, brushing across a strange, prickling fabric. It doesn’t hurt, but he brushes his fingers back and forth, rubbing the material between his fingers. It’s abrasive, but he can’t imagine what it is.

Blue flashes on the diagram on the watch. He pauses and presses his fingers to the needle-thin fabric. The watch flashes again and lines of color light up on the diagram, showing his nervous system in different, complex colors. He raises his brows. It’s far more sophisticated than what he came in with.

“The needles,” he calls, not taking his eyes off the contraption. “Do they connect with me?”

“Yes. When you put it on, it syncs with your biochemistry.” You get up and walk toward him. “You won’t even feel them. They’re the smallest on the market right now, and incredibly accurate. They use them in military armor to report back live health reports and status during enfighting. They’re more accurate than the sensors lined in your last one.”

“What’s the point, though?” 

You reach out and tap the watch. He watches curiously as a series of icons pop up, each a different color. “Inside of this,” you instruct, tapping the hard shell, “Is a series of chemical compounds. When you have on the armor underneath your shirt, you can tap to inject what you need. The needles don’t push deep, but they’re high-grade enough to break the barrier needed to disperse the compounds.” 

Minho looks up at you, silent. You don’t notice his trepidation, carrying on as you go into salesperson mode, explaining everything. “Blue is elektrolytes,” you instruct, pointing to it. “Green is a chemical compound of cortisol and adrenaline. Yellow is endorphins and an incredibly high-dose painkiller.”

“And purple?”

“Jump,” you deadpan. “But a compounded version Jeongin and I have worked on that lasts longer with less damaging effect. You should be able to sleep easier after using it. And you won’t need several JumpPacks a day to keep going. I can give you refills too, since it’s non-addictive.”

Minho stares. “What?”

“What part didn’t you get?”

“This is for me?” You scowl but he immediately notices the way you divert your eyes. You glance up at the ceiling, shifting from foot to food. “This is worth a million United Credits at least. I can’t afford it.”

“Do you see a price tag?”

“You can’t give me this for free.” 

“Of course I can. It’s just a prototype, so if it accidentally malfunctions and sends all injection options to your body at once and kills you, well…” You shrug. “At least you didn’t pay me. Consider yourself a test subject. I’ve never integrated the needle network into armor before. I don’t have the builds the military uses, just intel. I had to do it from scratch, so it might not work. Your current armor doesn’t protect you from plasma. This does.”

Minho doesn’t buy your bullshit for two seconds. He knows you wouldn’t give him this if it would risk killing him. For all your jesting and affectation, Minho has learned how to read you pretty well, and the way you blow him off and scoff tells him everything he needs to know. 

It is a favor and a gift, and a new sort of olive branch that he is unsure how to accept or take from you. Taking this gift worth more than his entire salary complicates things.

Did you make this specifically for him? He’s not sure. But the fact that he wants the answer to be yes is worse than anything else he can think of. 

Minho has peers. You’re a peer. Always have been. Anything else would complicate the simplicity of the relationship, and Minho immediately steps back and removes the watch. You watch him with razor-sharp intelligence, drinking him in as he holds out the watch to you. 

“The one I have is sufficient enough, Builder.” 

You snatch the watch from him, pivoting on your heel and walking with a ramrod-straight spine back to the table. For a second he thinks you’re going to kick him out but then you take a breath and melt into a smile, though a little sharp at the edges and not reaching your eyes.

“Fixed the connection. I also reinforced it again. Give me a moment to sync to your old armor.” 

Old armor. As if the new one is still his. His stomach flips and he grimaces. 

The affectation in your voice makes Minho uncomfortable. He doesn’t move, watching you tap viciously against the screen on your work desk. Jeongin spins a pen in his hand, glancing between the two of you nervously. When he notices Minho glaring at him, he grins awkwardly and pushes his chair behind one of the clear screens, his face distorted by blue lettering and diagram.

Wordlessly, you hand him the watch and turn away when he takes it. You say nothing else, moving on to a different project as Minho delicately picks up the shirt. He slides it over, feeling the warmth seep into his cool skin. He meticulously pulls the hardness with weapons on, followed by his jacket.

Fully dressed, he waits for you to say something. He doesn’t know what he expects - or wants - you to say. But he pauses anyway, eyes on your bent shape. His gaze flits to your hands, delicate fingers typing wildly, tense as you wait for him to leave. 

It feels like a stone has sunk to the bottom of Minho’s stomach. He doesn’t move for a few minutes, torn between walking out and preparing for his next Collection and staying to… what? He doesn’t know. He has no idea what to say or do, but he feels the palpable shift in your mood. 

So Minho chooses the easiest option. He nods to himself and heads toward the exit. You don’t spare him a second glance but he certainly looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw is clenched and you tap with a ferocity that thinks might shatter your desktop interface. 

As soon as the door opens, Minho is drowning in thumping base and synth again. Hyunjin leans on the stool, this time with his back against the wall and his glittering eyes focused on Minho. Though the former Nightcrawler wasn’t in the room, Minho has a sneaking suspicion that Hyunjin knows everything that happens in the Builder’s workshop. 

Hyunjin’s smirk is all-knowing and Minho storms by him, hating him for it. 

Rain no longer falls from a dark sky. Opaque, charcoal skies stretch above him, lines of moving air traffic creating layers of latticework. Looking at the watch - which shows his normal armor once more - tells him it's in the early morning hours now. 

The streets are not as busy as the night before. There are still glaring advertisements and he spots a group of cloaked United Church members walking around to accept alms and recruit, but the energy is muted outside of the clubs and pleasure houses. 

Morning commuters fill the speed train tunnels. United Travel Agents lurk in the crowd, watchful eyes on anyone causing trouble or trying to double up on the scanners as travelers pass through, machines charging their United Credits as they go. 

Minho falls into the dull buzz of morning travel. Glancing at his watch, he knows he has enough time to go home and change. He likes to receive his calls while he’s at home anyway. He tries not to replay the last conversation between the two of you. The offer you’d made him. The meaning behind it, whatever it may be. 

It’s nearly impossible, but he manages. Especially once he gets into his apartment, sinking into the routine of showering, changing, and sliding back into his clothes like a second skin. As soon as he reties his boots, his watch begins to ring. 

“Receiving,” he answers, straightening up. 

“Collection echo-tango-foxtrot-bravo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”

“Collection accepted.” 

The line goes dead. Minho slides his weapons into their holsters, then pulls on his rain jacket. It always rains in the city, like God is weeping for what he has become.

Any work is good work. 

Minho leaves the apartment to take another life. 

-

The water runs red in Minho’s shower. He stares it for a while, hot water rushing down his neck, shoulders and back in rivulets. It turns pink the longer he stares, the wound on his leg bleeding less and less. 

The irony is not lost on him that if he had accepted your gift, he might not have taken a gnarly hunting knife to the thigh. He was lucky that it was an energy weapon, the blade cauterizing the wound immediately. He’d had to pick the wound back open to flush out the dead, burned skin and pour burning antiseptic on it.

Shifting, Minho examines the wound. Pain blooms in his thigh as he turns, making him suck in a sharp hiss. The wound is to the bone. He knows he’s lucky it was not a well-made weapon, the ion pulse too weak to sever his limb. Still, it’s a deep wound and it would surely fuck him up if he didn’t have the next twenty-four hours to himself. 

If the knife had been one of yours…

A pulse of frustration echoes through him. He presses his closed fist to the old tile of the shower wall, feeling the dissonance between the scalding water and cool tile steady him. His knuckles are sore from the last Collection - which had gone wrong in every way possible - and he’s brutally aware of just how much everything hurts. 

Yet the ache isn’t what bothers him. His Collection target getting the jump on him from inside intel isn’t what bothers him. Minho has had that happen enough times that he no longer feels surprised when a Collection knows he’s coming.

What fucking bothers him is the ripple effect of his rejection of your offer made. 

Minho shuts off the water and steps out the water carefully. He can barely put weight on the leg, gritting his teeth as he grabs a towel and hobbles out of the bathroom, the steam billowing out into the tiny apartment and dissipating. 

Blue neon lights from the shop across the way burn in his window. He hardly needs to turn the lights on in his own home to see in the dark, the ever-present glow of blue guiding the way. 

Carefully, he sits on his bed. Another pulse of pain from the wound makes him shiver and take several deep, steadying breaths. He peels back the towel at the waist, revealing a single, thick thigh with a horrible cut right in the meat of it. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Walking around has made it bleed again, scarlet trickling toward the towel. 

Trying not to disturb the wound, he reaches for the medical kit under the bed. The metal is cool to the touch as he flips the latches, rummaging around the bandages, antiseptics, and gels until he finds what he’s looking for.

Minho takes the single, long syringe and uncaps it with his teeth, spitting the cap on the floor somewhere. He flicks his hand a few times, holding it up to make sure there are no bubbles in the vial. Holding his wound carefully with one hand and with the syringe in the other, he inserts the needle deep into the flesh, the sting minor compared to the throbbing ache the cut itself emanates. 

The compound burns as he injects himself. He clenches his teeth, pushing down on the plunger with steady pressure. He can already feel the numbness spreading in his leg as the local anesthesia takes root. He knows he’ll be itching when it wears off, the tiny nanobots working to stitch the muscle and tissue back together already making his skin crawl. 

DeepStitch is an expensive thing to have. He pulls the syringe out carefully, glancing at the medical kit. It only came with one, meaning he was going to have to replace the vile. Medical compounds made for healing abnormal wounds cost a fortune, especially the type with micro-technology to assist the process. 

Tossing out the empty syringe, Mingo lays on his bed, uncaring if he’s damp and in a towel. The numbness in his thigh spreads, making him shiver. He tries not to think about the fact that there are thousands of microscopic bots working on internally stitching his muscles an tendons as quickly as they can before the blood in his body deteriorates them.

The medical advancement of this world is beyond Minho, but he’s grateful for it as he drifts in a half-sleep. He finds it harder to sleep after using JumpPacks, his body unable to adjust from the constant state of false energy and adrenaline. 

It makes him think about your stupid fucking offer again. A piece of armor that could sync with him and balance his hormones and chemical compounds at the tap of a wrist. Something that high caliber for a low-level contract killer was beyond him. 

There was crazy, and then there was that. 

Minho wonders if you’ve been charging him fairly, suddenly. He’s always thought the weapons and tech you provide him with were good prices. They were well-made but always within his budget, albeit he stopped looking at what you were billing him a long time ago. Now that he knows you’re willing to offer something that he’d only find on a United Praetor in the military, he wonders if you’ve been cutting him deals.

He’s never asked the others. Changbin and Jisung seem friendly with you, enough to make Minho wary about asking them questions. Though they’re the closest things that Minho has to friends, he doesn’t trust them whenever it comes to you. 

Jisung already thinks it’s sweet that Minho is nice to you, and he hates that. Even if it’s true. 

Time fades away as Minho circles his conversation with you over and over again. He examines every moment of it. When he can surmise nothing else of the interaction but you offering an olive branch of friendship, something a step beyond peers, he goes back to all of his other interactions.

He remembers almost every one of them. 

Minho’s memory is fine-tuned. It has to be in his line of work. But the memories of you are particularly sharp. He’s able to recall the way you always poke fun at him to the exact line of his tolerance, the way you always know how to get in a good jibe without actually pissing him off. The way that you let Jisung and Changbin have it in front of him for his benefit, especially after they’ve irritated him, like you’re giving him a gift or saying I’m on your team. 

Thoughts of you ultimately lead to other things like the way your eyes reflect the blue light of your many screens. Or the way you always smell like jasmine and amber. The way you pull your sleeves over your hands in sweater paws because it’s bitter cold in your studio to avoid explosions and corrosion of items. The way the nickname Cowboy runs so smooth off your tongue, making his toes curl. 

Minho’s fingers twitch when he thinks about brushing the backs of his knuckles against your soft skin. He’s thought about it before and immediately cringed at the fantasy. Now, between exhaustion clinging to him and the numb limb, he doesn’t jerk away at the idea.

He finally falls asleep thinking of you and what it would be like to accept that olive branch. 

-

The ringing of Minho’s watch wrenches him from sleep. He sits up straight in bed, gasping and hand shooting toward the nightstand where there’s a draw with one of his guns. He realizes that his wrist is vibrating and when he looks at the screen, he sighs with equal parts tension and regret as he realizes it’s work calling. 

Fuck. He slept for almost twenty hours straight. 

Clearing his throat, he answers. “Receiving.” 

“Collection romeo-echo-alpha-delta-echo-romeo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”

Information flashes on Minho’s watch and he feels the world disappear from underneath his feet. Your name, age, permanent place of residency address, and anything the government has both legally and illegally obtained flashes before him. He’s never even seen your full name before and there it is, glowing on his watch as he stares at the information.

It feels obscene to know any of this. He flicks his wrist, turning off the display. He doesn’t want to see any of it, doesn’t want to see when you were born, doesn’t want to see what ward you pay taxes in, doesn’t want to know your criminal history. 

Minho’s ears are ringing. The Delegator does not confirm that Minho has heard or received the assigned target for Collection. Minho stares at the wall, his vision blurring at the edges as the name - your name - echoes in his mind over and over again. He hears it at the same rhythm as his pounding heart, pumping blood through his system as his watch flashes a high heart rate warning. 

Your name. Your full government name and ID number. He’s only ever known your first name, but you’ve always been Builder to him anyway. Minho can’t remember if he’s ever said your name, and suddenly he wants to. He wants to know what it sounds like shaped by his mouth, what it tastes like on his tongue. Wants to say it so many different ways, laughing, smirking, sighing– 

Three years and he can’t believe he’s never so much as said your name, and now that very name is on his list to kill. 

Indecision roots his feet to the spot. This isn’t like a Reverse Collection where other hitmen try to kill him and he can get away with killing them instead, clearing his name for a little longer. This is a direct and finite order to eliminate you. There is no alternative to this Collection. 

Irreversible. 

Running his hands through his hair, he looks around his apartment. It looks unlived-in and completely impersonal. Just like the impersonal way he calls you Builder, as though not using your fucking name makes it more sterile. As if it keeps you further away from earning his trust.

Which you have earned. Implicitly. Minho can think of no one else he would let take care of him. That he would sleep or eat in the presence of. That he trusts not to kill him in his sleep while he’s unarmed. 

Now he’s supposed to murder you?

Bile turns in his stomach. He hears the ticking of the clock on the wall. Every second inches closer to the decision he has to make.

Will he or won’t he? 

Minho grabs his gun from the nightstand and walks toward the door.

He’s only a few steps toward it when he realizes he’s not dressed or prepared for whatever he is about to do - what is he about to do? He has no idea. All he knows is that he is dazed and his hands are starting to shake and his heart rate is climbing, his watch flashing a warning. 

The room begins to tilt as his breathing comes out in haggard breaths. He stumbles a little bit, the blood pumping through him roaring in his ears. He belatedly realizes he’s having a panic attack, blindly trying to get back to his bed where he can sit. 

What does one do during a panic attack? He has no idea, he’s never had one. He thinks of the last time he saw someone panic and immediately bends over to put his head between his knees, gulping air through his nose and out through his mouth. 

What was it that Jisung said about panic?

It’s hard to remember. He thinks maybe there was counting involved, so he breathes in for seven seconds and then out for seven seconds. Does it again. And again. 

Slowly, the world swims back into focus. He can feel the twinge in his thigh as he comes down from the momentary lapse of panic and judgment. When he trusts that he’s not going to vomit on his bare feet, he slowly sits upright, looking around the neon-blue room. 

Quiet blankets the apartment. The world outside is faint. He can hear the clock on the wall as the minute hand moves, each marking the passing of a United Second. With a deep breath, he moves. 

There are no thoughts as he goes. His mind is a single list of action items, marketing them off as he goes. Get dressed. Check his weapons. Arm himself to the teeth with things you’ve made him. Message Jisung a cryptic, one-word text that only the other Collector will understand. Arm a bomb. Leave. 

It’s clinical. 

Minho had always understood with absolute clarity the reality of his line of work. He’s always had a failsafe - or a killswitch, so to speak. From the first day of work, Minho’s only purpose was to kill until he died. He was always meant to die. And he tells himself that the single, little safe space he has in the world he started saving for… well. If you ever needed it.

Any work is good work. 

Clouds hold in their rain. The night feels ominous. Minho glances up at the choked clouds, wondering what they’re up to. The Ministry of Weather controls the atmosphere in some parts of the city. Minho does not travel in those parts of the city - those assassinations are beyond the abilities of a Collector and reserved for Nightcrawlers. 

Paranoia is imminent, but Minho tries not to look over his shoulder every five seconds. The mysterious nature of Collect Co. is still something he doesn’t understand, so it’s difficult to unravel the nature of his assignment. Without a doubt, whoever placed Minho as the Collector knows you supply his weapons.

That simple fact branches out into multiple possibilities. Perhaps the person who wants you gone simply thinks Minho is the best person for the job because he’s in your tentative circle of trust and a familiar enough face to slip through you’re defenses. Or perhaps the problem is him and they know he won’t complete the Collection, earning a job termination and his name showing up on the Collection list. 

Either way, it’s on purpose. Of that, he knows for sure. 

From his years working for Collect Co., there are only a few things that Minho is sure about. Delegators do exactly what their title suggests - they delegate kills. Callers are a tier above Delegators, calling the shots working the network of requests that come in for contracted kills. Legals do all of the paperwork and research before agreeing to a contract, and at the very top of the chain is the Floorman. 

Beyond that, Minho has no concept of the hierarchy or who is hiring Collect Co. for jobs. There are obvious manipulations to the system and it’s impossible to work objectively within a private company that works with but not for the government, and Minho has little doubt that the financial benefactors are who really control assignments. 

Which leads him back to the root of the question: why you? Is Minho the problem, or do you have enemies so large that they hold sway in Collect Co. He doesn’t consider that your deeds are nefarious enough to warrant a hit. What you do is illegal but you sell to the military, too. 

So it begs the question: is it you or him who they really want gone? 

Maybe it’s even a combination.

Still, he attempts not to seem paranoid. It’s easier than it should be, Minho’s mind so singularly focused on getting to you as he takes the train and traves to North Ward Three that he doesn’t have time to look around every corner or see if he’s being followed. There are other ways of keeping tabs on him, anyway. 

The rain still holds as Minho gets off the speed train and ducks into the street. He keeps to the sides, activating his ad blocker as he’s immediately slammed by a screaming neon world. His gaze and gait must be sharper than he realizes, because people veer away from him, his energy repelling them.

From the corner of his eye, he notes Watchers - people responsible for keeping an eye on what’s going on in the street for their employer - take note of him. Some melt into the doorway of their workplace, and others call for runners.

Trouble. Minho looks like trouble and he can sense the shift as they catch wind of him. 

The Watchers are no threat to him. Their entire purpose is to close the doors and pull back when they catch a sense of danger in the air. They’ll stay out of his way and won’t engage with him unless he threatens their clubs and shops. 

Minho has little intention of doing that. He wants to make this as painless as possible. 

Neon Rodeo burns like a dying sun. The orange falls over him as he jogs down the steps and lets the guards scan him. If they notice anything is off, they say and do nothing. Neon Rodeo is perhaps the only business without a Watcher, and it’s only because no one would dare interrupt the business with the Nightcrawler inside. 

Synth rattles Minho from the ground up as he steps inside. The cowboy hats and their little smiling faces float like phantoms in the night. He only has a singular goal and he looks at no one else as he heads towards the back, sidestepping sweaty bodies and perfumed hair. 

It’s full tonight, the weekend crowd packing the bar from corner to corner. It’s no matter. He cuts his way to the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool. Today, Hyunjin’s hair is blood red and his eyes are sharp, unnatural green. For a moment, Minho thinks of a chameleon before Hyunjin kicks a leg out and blocks the hall leading to the door. 

“Your patronage has been terminated, Cowboy.” 

Minho’s heart flips. Are you that angry with him? He drinks in Hyunjin’s dress and slowly his anxiety turns to understanding. Hyunjin is dressed in all black today. His shirt is armored and in place of pants with tassels are tactical trousers with pockets and weapons strapped to his thighs.

An assessment of the Nightcrawler tells Minho that there are weapons he doesn’t see. There’s a plasma pistol on his hip, a bandolier of small knives strapped across his chest, knives in his boot, and another plasma pistol on this calf. 

Hyunjin’s fingers drum against his thigh as he watches Minho with those unsettling eyes. “Want to try, Cowboy?”

“I need to speak with her.”

“No.”

“I’m not-” Minho grits his teeth. “I’m not Collecting.”

“Didn’t say you were.” 

Hyunjin knows. He doesn’t know how the Nightcrawler knows you’re a Collection on Minho’s list, but it’s clear in the way Hyunjin leers. 

“Look, you can go in with me. Let me get her to safety.”

“And what do you think safety is, Cowboy? Even if you’re not lying, they’ll come after you too.” 

“Listne, Nightcrawler-”

Hyunjin grins. It’s unnerving, and there isn’t much that unnerves Minho. “No, you listen. I tolerate you because I am ordered to. Now, I don’t have to. My only orders were to say no and to not harm you.” He leans back and spreads his hands and shrugs. The neon lights catch his blood red hair. “I’m always within my right to make a judgment call.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“You’re not friends, last I checked.” Hyunjin cocks his head to the side. “You don’t have friends, right? That’s why you reject acts of faith?”

“What do you know of acts of faith, Nightcrawler?” 

“You’d be surprised, Collector.” 

Hyunjin is unmoving. Minho’s fingers twitch and Hyunjin’s eyes follow the movement. For a second, Minho wonders if he could beat his adversary to the draw. They could do it like an old fashioned movie, the bar the perfect setting for it. Hyunjin is totally unmoving and relaxed, not moving his hand toward his weapons.

He’s that confident in beating me. 

United Seconds are ticking by. Every minute Minho doesn’t make his collection is time lost. He licks his lips ready to mount another argument when Hyunjin’s eyes flicker and look over Minho’s shoulders. His eyes narrow a fraction as they dart back to Minho.

“Here’s an act of faith. Let’s see what you do this time.” 

The energy in the bar shifts. He feels the tremor go through the air and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Minho turns his head to the side, not enough to fully look back over his shoulder but enough to see the group of Collectors disperse in the crowd. 

Both, Minho realizes. The Collection had been for them both, and it was a good excuse to get them in the same place. He grits his teeth as he realizes how predictable he is. They might have come even if he didn’t arrive, but they might have sent a smaller force. 

Glancing at Hyunjin, Minho watches as the Nightcrawler does nothing. He waits for Minho, raising his brows and smirking. 

Act of faith. 

Normally, Minho doesn't believe in public acts of violence. Collectors are mostly prohibited from killing in public or endangering the lives of United Republic Citizens unless entirely unavoidable. 

Now, though, he causes a scene and pulls his gun, swiveling around and leveling it at the nearest Collector he has a clean line of sight on. He feels the hum of the weapon and the click of the safety as he squeezes the trigger, the pulse of the weapon barely perceptible as it fires. 

Plasma weapons are bright when they fire. It’s nearly blinding in the dark as he shoots, screams shattering the bar as the world turns into pops of energy and sizzling air. He ducks down as someone shoots at him, instincts kicking in as he grabs the leg of a table and yanks it toward him. 

Behind him, Hyunjin lets out a manic laugh and stands from the stool. He drops a small device next to Minho, drawing his attention for a second. Minho watches as it expands with a shimmer of translucent energy - a shield. He looks at the Nightcrawler who crouches with him, grinning as he peers over the table and shields with his green eyes. 

“There are eight. They’re just going to pin us here and shoot at us like fish in a barrel.”

“Is there a way through that door?”

“Sure there is. If they want to melt it down, I’m sure they have plasma blades, judging from the look of their very nice weapons. They can’t blow it without leveling the street.” 

“Does she have a way out the back?”

“No, then I would have two doors to watch.” 

A spray of metal and plasma ricochets off the shield that has molded to the shape of the table. Hyunjin gestures as if to showcase his point and Minho grits his teeth. Peeking around the table, he can see patrons hiding under tables and covering their heads. Collectors stand spread out, fanning the entrance and blocking the way, but they don’t come any closer.

They want to make the Collection, but they don’t want to face a Collector and a Nightcrawler together. 

“Aren’t you some sort of unmatched assassin, Nightcrawler?” Minho asks, checking the mag on his plasma gun. “Can you just take them all out? That should be light work for you.”

“I’m good at not being seen, Cowboy. I’m not inhuman.” 

“Oh good, so you’re actually useless when visible?”

Hyunjin’s face darkens. “You’d be surprised how often you don’t see me.” 

The threat isn’t lost on Minho but it doesn’t have time to sink into its full effect as bullets rain down on them. They cringe together to ensure they’re behind the shield, which whines under the plasma assault and flickers. Minho thinks it will hold, but it’s only as wide as the table it molds to and the table isn’t very large.

Hyunjin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a grenade. Minho grabs it, looking at him with wild eyes. Hyunjin pulls his hand away. “It’s a flash grenade,” he snaps. “I’m not going to kill everyone.” He pauses and smirks. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“That’s hardly less settling.”

“You know,” Hyunjin muses, pulling the ring from the grenad. Green light pulses on it slowly, counting down until it starts to release blinding white flashes. “One day you and I are going to have a talk about why you think your profession is so much different than mine.”

“One is legal, for starters.” 

Hyunjin lobs the grenade. “Right, so what you’re doing right now? This is legal?”

Minho is spared from having to answer as the world explodes in white. He and Hyunjin move at the same time, letting the memory of where the Collectors stand as they close their eyes and shoot. Minho’s shot blind thousands of times and it usually pays off.

It does for the most part now, the pair of them dropping Collectors as they shoot. The white light fades and there’s only a single Collector left standing by the door, his gun aimed at Minho. He swivels to shoot, but a bullet hits the Collector in the shoulder, twisting him backward from impact as he squeezes the trigger of his gun. 

The shot catches Minho in the shoulder, knocking him back a step. He curses but keeps his weapon trained on the fallen Collector until he hears high-pitched screaming. It stops his heart, the sound of the Collector’s voice reaching a level of madness that echoes even after he gargles and goes silent.

Minho looks at Hyunjin with an accusatory glare but Hyunjin juts his thumb behind him in answer, pointing to where you stand at the door with a heavy pistol in your and. Minho blinks a few times in surprise. 

“I think the nano-tips work, Jeongin.” You glance over your shoulder where the younger boy stands on the stairs behind you, armed to the teeth. “Remind me to write that down.” 

Silence stretches in Neon Rodeo, save the soft quivering crying and sparking sign that’s been shot over the bar. From the corner of his eye, Minho sees it flash between Rodeo and Odeo over and over again, bouncing between the two words as the ‘R’ tries to fight for its life.

Then there’s you. 

You stare at him with a guarded expression, drinking him in. Your gaze lingers on his arm, reminding him that it does in fact burn where the plasma bullet graze his shoulder. Next to him, Hyunjin shifts. The Nightcrawler barely moves forward, sliding part of his body between Minho and where you stand in the doorway to your studio, Hyunjin’s hand resting on top of his gun. 

“You gonna kill me, Cowboy?” Your voice wavers when you ask. By the twitch in your lip, Minho can tell you’re upset that it does. 

“No. I want to help.” Hyunjin snorts and Minho is reminded of his earlier question. What do you think safety is? “Consider it an act of faith,” Minho offers and Hyunjin’s snickering turns to curiosity. “I’ve rejected yours in the past. Let me off you the only one I have.” 

No one moves. Minho slowly lifts his wrist toward Hyunjin, displaying the information. The Nightcrawler looks it over and raises his brows, looking back at Minho. “What strange turn of events, Minho.” 

It’s the first time Hyunjin has ever used his name. He says nothing as the Nightcrawler heads over to you, murmuring quietly. Your face is inscrutable as you nod and look over your shoulder, saying something to Jeongin. He nods fiercely, face set in determination that makes Minho’s mouth twitch a little. 

The three of them join Minho wordlessly as he turns on his heels and heads up the stares. Hyunjin’s watch flashes and lets them know that the United Enforcers are three minutes out and they need to get where they’re going.

You take the lead then, hurrying out the door but not out into the street, ducking into a noodle shop three doors down from Neon Rodeo. You shout in United New Mandarin at the woman behind the counter, shocking him - not that Minho knows anything about you at all - and the woman waves you off.

Through the shop and into the stock room you lead everyone, hoping over bags of flower and starch until you reach a table that you climb up on and pull a vent from a ceiling. It’s far too large to be a normal vent, and his questions are answered when he realizes it leads to a small garage that faces the next street over. 

Once into the garage, Hyunjin takes the lead out into the street, weapon up. Minho brings up the rear, falling into a defensive unit as you go. Jeongin walks closely behind Hyunjin, his steps a little clumsy but his head on a swivel. 

Good, Minho thinks. Jeongin is alert. 

“Decided not to kill me?” you whisper as you skirt out into the street and hug the building face. 

Minho can barely hear you over the fabric you’ve pulled up over your face. He blinks and thinks to do the same, pulling the hood up on his jacket and sliding up a black gaitor over the lower half of his face. 

“I was never going to kill you.”

“Hard to tell with you.” 

“I… don’t have an argument.” 

And he doesn’t. He realizes that he’s kept you at arm's length despite your best attempts to spark some sort of friendship. What reason could he do that other than sparing himself if he had to kill you one day? It makes the most logical sense.

“I thought we were friends.” That makes him pause. You notice a few steps ahead of him that he’s stopped, looking at you. “We stopped being just business acquaintances over a year ago, Collector. My normal clients don’t get to test my new hardware or request as many JumpPacks as you do on the house.”

“They’re on the house?”

“Of course they are!” you snap at him. “Do you not look at your billing, Collector? How do you know I’m not overcharging you?” 

“I stopped looking once I trusted you weren’t robbing me.”

“See, that’s a funny word coming from you. Trust.”

A whistle catches Minho’s attention. You both turn to see that Hyunjin and Jeongin are nearly three-blocks away at the entrance of a nondescript shop. Color floods Minho’s face when he realizes the pair of you had stopped walking to have your argument and he curses himself as you start moving again. 

“I do trust you.” You say nothing to his comment. “I’m sorry I didn’t accept the armor.”

“It wasn’t about rejecting the armor, Collector.” The world Collector sounds dirty in your mouth. He suddenly wants to hear you call him Cowboy again. “It was about rejecting me when I thought we were already friends. I was wrong.”

Hyunjin leads them down into an alleyway that is void of anything besides dumpsters and murky puddles. The smell turns Minho’s stomach but he resists the urge to gag as Hyunjin bends down to pull up a sewer grate. He flashes his flashlight inside and nods before jumping down and vanishing. There’s a light splash as he lands and calls up for Jeongin. 

Minho crouches close to you as Jeongjin adjusts to follow Hyunjin down. 

“You weren’t,” he says as Jeongin jumps. You turn to look at him, confused. “Wrong. You weren’t wrong.” 

You look him up and down, hesitating. Hyunjin calls your name and you turn away from Minho, checking your legs and arms to make sure your pockets are zipped. Minho watches as you jump. He realizes his holding his breath until he hears your feet splash.

Quickly, he scrambles to the grate, pulling the top with him. Looking through the hole, he sees the orange light of glowsticks as you and Jeongin crack and shake them, lighting up the tunnel in a very small ring of light. Hyunjin has turned off his flashlight and looks up at Minho, gesturing for him to hurry.

Minho holsters his weapon and jumps down, bending at the knee as he lands to absorb the fall. His boots splash loudly in the tunnel, echoing for a few seconds. His shoulder wound aches as he straightens up. Hyunjin is already lifting Jeongin up to pull the great back over the hole. The scrape of metal on the concrete sounds much louder in the watery tunnel, making Minho cringe.

Looking both ways, he sees the sewer is less of a sewer and more of a tunnel. The cloth pulled over his face does little to keep out the rancid smell, and he winces when he sees fat, black rats scattering on the edges of the orange light. 

Something touches his arm and he jerks, hand going to his gun. You lean back and apologize, holding out a glowstick. He relaxes and takes it, fingers brushing yours as he does. He instantly gets a chill down his spine, though his fingers are warm where they brushed yours. 

Minho clears his throat and holds the glowstick up, looking around the tunnel. He can hear the faint echoes of dripping water and every movement of the group feels loud in the pressing silence of the dark. 

“What is this?” he asks, looking at you. 

It’s Hyunjin who answers, “Nightcrawler shit. You’re welcome.”

“Should we expect any of your former coworkers, then?” 

“They’re not so bad.” Hyunjin unholsters his weapon as he begins walking south down the tunnel, throwing Minho a sharp grin. “It’s the Darklings I worry about.” 

You fall into step behind Hyunjin immediately, ducking your head to murmur something to him as you go. The glow of your light gets farther away as Minho stands staring at Hyunjin, unsure if he’s serious or not. 

Jeongin steps up next to Minho. “He was joking about Darklings, right? The People Underneath are a myth?” 

“Have you ever heard Hyunjin tell a joke?” 

Minho leaves Jeongin thinking about it before the younger rushes to keep up with him, feet splashing wildly. 

-

Whether Hyunjin was joking about the Darklings or not, they don’t run into anything except rats and roaches in the underground tunnels. Minho finds himself itching to ask the Nightcrawler questions and demand where they’re going, but he doesn’t, 

An act of faith. 

It was an act of faith when Minho showed Hyunjin the safehouse on his watch. It was one of the few things that Minho protected more fiercely than his life, and he was hoping that when Hyunjin saw the coordinates, title of ownership, and Minho’s information, he’d gain a little trust. 

Minho had been right. Hyunjin, though still sharp at the edges, has become unnervingly benign with Minho, addressing him by his name. It’s not much to most, but he knows among killers it’s a huge step. One that means a little more trust, if not at least peers. 

You remain quiet for the most part. Your eyes stray toward Minho often and when he catches you looking, you don’t look away. Your gaze is hesitant and questioning, as though you’re trying to figure him out like one of the schematics on your screens. 

Biting into a protein bar, he quickens his pace to fall into step with you. “What will you do with your lab?” 

Your lips twitch. “Chemical fire. There’s a stop-line in the frame of the building so it should be controlled. I promised not to burn down Neon Rodeo when I established my office there.” 

“Who owns that place, anyway?” 

“Bangchan.” The name sounds familiar. “Reformed Nightcrawler.” 

“You keep unusual company.”

“Better than none.” 

That gets a little bit of a laugh from him. You smile when he does and he swears it’s brighter than the glowsticks you carry. “I deserved that one. I’m working on it, alright.”

“How do Jisung and Changbin deal with you?”

“The same way I deal with them.” You hum, nodding in understanding. For a few minutes, it’s just wet steps echoing in the tunnels. “What made you decide to come with me? I assume you have your own fallback plans.” 

“I do, but I don’t know. I wanted to accept your olive branch.” You look at him. “I wanted to trust you.”

He nods. His gut twists a little at that, both anxious and pleased. He’d been right about offering an act of faith in return for the one he scorned. Now, he just has to keep you alive, which he grows more confident in doing. 

“Where are we going?” 

He looks up at you. “Hyunjin didn’t tell you?”

“No, just said to trust you.” Minho’s brows shoot up and you snort. “I know. Whatever you showed him convinced him.”

“It’s a safe house on Isla de Suenos.” You look up at him sharply and he gives a soft grin. “My mother belonged to a very well-off family. I’m not supposed to exist, and she had to decide at a young age whether or not I was worth throwing away her family and their power. A single safehouse purchased with offshore accounts and through a network of money-changing and bought secrecy is the only thing she could give me.”

“She didn’t choose you?” He shakes his head. You think about that for a second and he lets the words sink in, waiting for the pity, which he hates. Instead, you hum. “No wonder you don’t choose people either.”

Your candor is a relief. You don’t tell him sorry or try to comfort him. You accept this as a fact of life, a normalcy that a mother would choose wealth and power over a child. “There are no records tying us together, but the title of the house is under what my name would have been if she’d taken me. Lee. My family name would be Lee.”

“What is it now?”

“I don’t have one. My father was servant-class. We don’t have family names.” 

“He worked for your mother’s family?” Minho nods. “Lee. I like it. Will you keep it?”

“Maybe. It’s who I have to be, now.” 

“No longer the Collector?” He shakes his head. “Good. Perhaps I like you more as just Lee Minho.” 

Minho bites back a grin. 

By the time they get to the surface again, they’re just outside of the city-proper on the northeast shore. Here, the night is bitter cold as the salty air blasts off the ocean, dark waves rushing and receding against the shoreline. 

They take a brief break once their topside, Minho gasping deep breaths of fresh air in as he gulps down water. Now that they can see without the glowsticks, they toss them into the trash and breathe in silence. 

Carefully, Minho peers at the wound on his shoulder. It’s caterized from the heat of the plasma, but the burn hurts something vicious. He has no medical supplies on him, and he examines the chawed flesh with mild concern. 

Seeing the injury, you get up wordleslly from the rock where you sit and come over. Your hand digs in one of your pockets and you produce a packet of burn gel and antiseptic, wordlessly gesturing to the wound. He nods and you offer a tentative grin before ripping the antiseptic open with your teeth, spitting the crinkling material on the ground.

With steady hands, you squeeze out the translucent gel on the tips of your fingers and peel the damaged parts of Minho’s shirt away from the flesh. He sucks in a breath when you apply the cool gel to the wound, the stinging of the antibiotic catching him off guard. You shoot him an apologetic wince before continuing to press it lightly into the burned flesh. 

You smell like jasmine and amber. Minho breathes it in deep, a soothing scent mixed with the salty air of the seat just a few yards away. His eyes flutter shut as your fingers work his shoulder, deft and skilled like an artist. 

“My mom liked to paint,” Minho says automatically, unsure where the comment comes from. “That’s one of the few things I know about her. She had artists hands. You have hands like hers. Graceful.” 

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say I’m an artist but I do draw designs for weapons a lot.”

“It’s a kind of art.”

“I suppose it is.”

Your closeness makes Minho dizzy. Instead of chasing you away in the past, he lets you linger and spread the burn gel on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting the sound of the ocean and the press of your steady fingers lull him into a moment of relaxation. 

He can almost pretend you both haven’t thrown your life away to head to some house he’s never been to with little to no plan but to arrive there alive. 

“Does it hurt?” he shakes his head at your question. You voice is soft and raspy, rising the hairs on the back of his neck. You’re so close he can feel the heat radiating from you, making him lean in on instinct, seeking the warmth. “If you let me give you better armor, plasma won’t hurt you.”

Minho’s eyes flutter open. “You brought it with you?”

“Of course I did.” Your face is inches from his, eyelashes fanning your bright, glittering eyes as you look up at him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Hyunjin’s voice shatters the moment before Minho can respond. “Hello, yes, the child and I are still here.” 

“I’m not a child!”

“The child and I need to leave, however. Seungmin and Felix are waiting to escort us. I believe your friend left transportation for you, Minho.”

You whirl around. “You’re leaving? What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I have some Nightcrawling to do with Bangchan and Seungmin. I’m taking the child to stay with Swan.” 

Minho has no idea who Swan is. He sees the uncertainty color your face as you regard your guard - your friend. “You would do that? Take him to stay with her?” 

“Of course. Swan likes strays.” 

“I am right here,” Jeongin reminds everyone, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m not a child.”

Hyunjin grins at him. It’s real and not a leer, something that Minho doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Hyunjin grabs Jeongin by the shoulder, pulling him along before flicking his poison-green eyes toward Minho and you. “Enjoy your evening. I’ll be around, Minho.” 

“Wait!” you bolt over to them, catching everyone by surprise as you throw your arms around the two of them and squeeze. The smile on Hyunjin’s face is so soft that Minho has to look away, equal parts something like jealousy and feeling like he’s intruding. “Here.” 

You divest several items from your pockets, shoving them into their hands. Medical gels, a few gadgets, and a little Scorpion figurine that you shove into Hyunjin’s hands. He raises a single brow in amusement but you say nothing to the Nightcrawler, rushing back to stand at Minho’s side. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin lift their hand in waves to Minho before turning and heading down the beach at a slow pace, their feet sinking into the sand. Cold wind whips at Minho as he stands watching with you silent by his side, waiting.

Without a word, he turns and beckons you, heading up the rocky coast before heading back down precariously to a tiny cove with a boat buoyed between the rocks. It’s hardly a safe-looking boat and he realizes it probably wouldn’t have carried them all, but it’s something. 

Minho climbs into the boat carefully before helping you step down into it. The rocking water throws you off balance and he steadies you, hands tight on your waist. You mutter an apology but he doesn’t let go until he’s sure you’re okay, eyes searching. 

A moment of tension passes, his fingers pressed into the fabric of your hips, your closeness overpowering the sea air again. You clear your throat and it passes. Minho lets you go as he finds the key and plugs it in to turn on the engine.

You busy yourself with untying ropes, your steps unsteady as the vessel moves unpredictably beneath your feet. Once you manage to get rid of all the lines, he begins to navigate out the cove backward, turning the wheel violently from side to side as he fights the tide. 

Thankfully with every swell that pushes the boat into the cove, it drags it back out. It takes about three swells before the craft is pulled into the ocean proper and he throws the throttle in reverse, water rooster tailing for a moment as he does. 

You join him at the helm and stand close as he turns it around and drives. Wind rips at his jacket, blowing back the hood. He’s thankful for the face cover fighting the icy wind, squinting as he drives in the late hours of the night across a rippling black ocean. 

The water gets rough as he turns to the east, glancing at the coordinates on his watch every once in a while. Your hand shoots out to grab his forearm on a particularly violent dip. He curses, pain radiating from his shoulder as you do. You immediately shout an apology and let go, but Minho snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you tight.

For a second, you stiffen, looking up at him uncertain. He remains steadfast in his hold, willing his heart to slowdown as he drives, determined to keep you from falling off the boat and into the water before you can even make it to the safehouse. 

You relax into him after a second, pressing closer and letting him hold on as you go. He relaxes when you accept his help, breathing out a slow breath that he didn’t know he was holding. 

It takes almost forty five minutes, but the dark shadow of Isla de Suenos materializes in the night. The city is a spec of light on the misty horizon as the waves begin to slow down until he can let down on the throttle, bringing the boat to a troll instead of a plane. 

The collection of islands that surround the massive, man-made mountain in the middle of the seat are all only about seven acres in size and are privately owned. The level of exclusivity is something Minho is incredibly unfamiliar with, and he gets nervous as they approach the barely visible shield surrounding the collection of islands.

“Minho, there’s a-”

“It’ll let us through.” He squeezes your waist on instinct, hoping it’s true. As the boat passes, he holds his breath. He feels the biochip in his neck flicker and then they’re through the shield. The water is falt calm on the other side of the energy wall, tapping gently against the hull. “It’s biometric.”

“And you were sure that was going to work?”

“Mostly.” 

“Mostly is not a great attitude in the invention field, Minho.” 

It takes a second, but he realizes you’re calling him by his name and not Cowboy. He likes the sound of it on your tongue, though he doesn’t mind the diminutive. 

Even in still waters, he doesn’t remove his arm around your waist, the protective instinct still high as he steers the boat according to his watch. Islands with lights hidden behind thick jungle and rockface slide past them. 

The beacon on his watch flashes and he turns the boat, trolling to a long, empty dock ahead of them. The island is no different from the rest, covered in sprawling jungle and foliage that look monstrous in the ominous night. 

Quickly, you tie off the boat and disembark. Your steps on the dock feel loud in the quiet night, the two of you hurrying along and up the shore until you hit the stone stairway that leads through the trees. Though he isn’t holding you close to him anymore, you still keep yourself pressed close, the back of your hands brushing as you begin the climb up the island. 

Minho has no idea what the house looks like. He only knows that it’s coded to his biochip and that it’s always been there if he needs it. He doesn’t know if it’s stocked or if the electricity is on, or if it’s been raided and taken over. He doesn’t even know if there are codes to get access.

It is the most unprepared he has ever been. 

A large estate springs up among the trees. The entire building is constructed on a platform with foliage and trees brushing along the foundations. It’s made up of windows and metal framing, the windows dark and hiding whatever exists within. 

It is exquisit. Minho has never seen an estate or a luxury home before in person, but he knows that’s what this is. The thought seems a little silly as he leads you toward the modular home, steps quiet as he glances around. He cannot imagine that anyone but he and his could enter the grounds, but he’s still on edge. 

At the door, there’s a single bioscanner. He leans his neck toward it, letting it flash over his biochip. The scanner turns green and he hears the hiss of an airlock. Glancing at you and shrugging, he tries the handle and pulls the door open toward him. 

Inside, the air is cool. He steps in first, hand on his gun as he looks around the interior. It’s sparkling clean and decorated with dark wood furniture and greenery. He takes a few steps inside, flinching when automatic lights come on and cast a warm, gold glow in the house. 

“You’ve been living as a fucking Collector when this existed the entire time?” you deadpan from the door.

No kidding, he thinks, turning to look at the multi-story wonder that is the home. It’s three levels of tropical opulence, making his head spin at all of the possibilities. 

“I didn’t know what was here, honestly.” He turns to look at you and nods. You step inside and pull the door shut, tapping the screen beside it. The locks click in place again and with another tap, he sees the windows darken to privacy mode. “I assumed she didn’t leave me something grand.” 

“It’s a good start on an apology. She’s still a bitch for leaving you and I think you should let me fight her.”

A ripple of fondness goes through him and he smiles at you, uncontrolled and large. You shoot a shy one back before looking away at the wonder of the home. 

Unlike him, you seem to relax immediately, kicking your shoes off to wander around the house. He follows suit after a moment of hesitation, peeling the cover off of his face and kicking of his shoes. He leaves his holster open on his weapons, hands hovering near them as he follows you.

The house is extravagent. Smaller than he originally thought, with only three bedrooms and two bathrooms, but the spaces for each are massive and sprawling with greenery. It feels like the jungle is a part of the house - and he realizes it is, at least in the atrium. There’s a large pool and something that looks like a hot spring behind the house, hidden from the world by think palms and palmetto. 

Each room is richly designed and cleaned, as though it has been kept for him all this time. He’ll have to worry about that at some point, unsure who has kept the house in such a presentable state while it’s existed. 

After you’ve fed your curiosity, you drift to one of the rooms with a private bathroom. He takes the room across from you, feet dragging as the exhaustion hits him. His limbs feel heavy and peeling off his shirt with the injure arm makes him curse and hiss. He doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, knowing the old bruises from a few days ago are still there.

Steam fills the bathroom. He’s a little put out when he realizes that the stone shower has a wall of glass to reveal the jungle on the other side, but he realizes there’s no one to watch him. He shakes the uneasiness and steps under the scalding water, moaning as he closes his eyes and lets it run down him.

A screen with a dozen or more settings sits in the rockface of the shower, but he doesn’t know how to use them. He hits another button hoping for what is more water pressure and instead gets a heavenly waft of eucalyptus. He leaves the settings alone, settling for tranquility over scrubbing himself.

Minho doesn’t know how long he stays in the shower. His fingers prune and the crust and blood eventually peel away. He spends a short amount of time scrubbing his own skin, eager to get out of the shower and check on you. 

Now that he has you, a new sort of stream of conscious has made itself permanent, always wondering where you are and if you’re okay. 

Steam clouds the bathroom as he steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Water clings to him as he ruffles his wet hair, strolling out into the bedroom. He walks toward the table by the door, rifling through his things looking for medical gel. 

A knock draws his attention and you open the door a crack, making a sound of surprise when you don’t expect to see him standing right in front of you. Your eyes dip down to where the towel is on his waist and back up, immediately opting to look at the ceiling. 

Minho’s lips pressed into a firm line, trying to eat the smirk threatening to take over.

“Sorry, I assumed you were still in the shower. I - um - brought more gel for your shoulder.” 

He steps away from the door, leaving drips of water as he does. “Come on in.”

“Are you sure?”

He shrugs and then winces, the burn pulling taught as he does. You enter immediately, shutting the door behind you and ripping the top off the packet as you do, eyes focused on the wound. You’ve got your fingers slathered in gel and pressing to his shoulder before you realize the forwardness, pausing to glance up at him.

Now, Minho does smirk. “I’m at your mercy.” 

“Sorry. I know it’s hurting you and…”

“You don’t want me to hurt,” he fills in, remembering your words from earlier.

You nod and chew your bottom lip as you work. He studies you closely. He doesn’t know if it’s his acceptance that you’re more than just someone he buys weapons from, the exhaustion or the little sliver of feeling he’s always pretended wasn’t there, but Minho suddenly feels a little bolder. 

A little braver. 

“I never had a chance to thank you.”

“For what?” You throw the antiseptic on the table and rip open the burn gel. “Anything. Everything. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you.”

“There’s a lot of things you haven’t said.”

“So let me.” You dart a look at him, nervous. When you don’t interrupt he continues, “You were right. We stopped being industry peers a long time ago, and I’ve purposefully ignored multiple favors from you to keep the illusion that simple relationships meant I couldn’t be hurt. Or hurt others.”

“And now?”

“I realize it was silly.”

“Hmm. At least you admit your faults, Cowboy.” 

He smiles. You finish applying the gel, but you don’t move away from him. You linger, looking up through silky lashes at him. Your face takes on a dreamy look, mouth parted a little and he feels heat coil in his stomach at that look. 

“Why’d you offer me that armor?”

“I was afraid of how often you were working. I knew you were getting hurt and I wanted to help. Why’d you reject it?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

There’s a long pause. Your gaze drops to his mouth. You’re only a few inches away, the ghost of your breath against his neck. “What if I want you to?” 

Minho needs no other permission. It’s like a dam giving way, the past few days able to wedge their way in and open him up to let the rawness spill out of him. He surges forward, catching your mouth against his as he does so, hands shooting to your waist. 

You don’t push him away. Worse, you melt into him like it’s natural, hands skating up his arms and around the back of his neck to pull him in closer to you. Your mouth is warm and minty and addicting, scattering his thoughts to the stars as your lips move against his. 

Heat is trapped between your bodies. He feels like he’s burning up from the inside, squeezing your hips as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. You open up for him easily, like you were always made to and he groans. 

Every time he has ever held back from you fuels him forward. He presses into you, turning you to push you on the mattress. You go willingly, opening your legs to let him slot between them. He leaves over you, mouth hungry. Devouring. Ravenous. 

You gasp between kisses, nails grazing down his flexing arms. He wants to fucking drown in you as he bites the edge of your jaw, tasting the soap on your skin. You smell like jasmine and amber, though now he can smell the eucalyptus too, driving him insane. 

You. 

The one thing he’s let himself trust. The one person he’s let in, even when he didn’t want to admit it. The one person he wants to have more than anything else. 

Greedy hands scrape up his chest. Your fingers are warm and searching as he nips the tender flesh of your neck, tongue laving over the bite to soothe it. The sounds dripping from your mouth are so pretty, driving him inside as he traces his desire with tongue and teeth. 

The fabric of your shirt scrapes against his skin, itchy and in the way. His hands pull at the hem and he hesitates, looking down at you through a heavy-lidded gaze and panting. You not frantically, hands pulling at his to guide the shirt upwards and off, revealing warm skin.

Minho wants to taste every part of you. You create art with your schematics and your weapons, but you are art. He worships you with tongue and teeth, hands brushing up your stomach to cup your chest. His tongue pulls a languid moan from you as he flicks it over the peak of your nipple. 

Fuck.

He’s greedy, sucking gentle on your pert bud, ensuring to scrap his teeth along the sensitive flesh. You writhe underneath him, unable to remain still. His other hand works you too, tweaking your stiff peak as he trails spit-slick kisses across your chest to wrap his lips around that nipple too. 

Minho looks up at you through his lashes. You’re a rendering of pleasure, head pressing into the bed, chest pushed up, a sheen of sweat on your collarbones and neck. It drives him wild, cock throbbing heavily as he trails his mouth toward, fingers pulling your pants as he goes. 

Your fingers twist in the sheets. Everything he does affects you and he’s drunk on it, heart thudding in his chest as he drops down to his knees. His towel falls and the cool air makes him shiver. He feels the sticky tip of his cock brush against his leg but he ignores the ache between his thighs, fixing his eyes on what’s between yours instead. 

Pretty and wet, all for him. For him. He gets to have you. But he doesn’t yet, making you wait and feel the personal hell it’s been for him to pretend he wasn’t yours as he kisses up your thighs, licking warm skin and digging his teeth in. 

“Minho,” you half gasp, half wine. He smiles against your knee, giving it a gentle peck. “Please.” 

“Yeah?” he switches legs, biting your calf. “Want it that bad?” 

“Need it.” 

He brings a hand up to your dripping cunt, dragging a curled knuckle through your wetness. You let out a keen and he grins against your leg even more, hypnotized by the way your petty little hole clenches at the contact.

Minho drags it out. Plays with you, dragging that knuckle slow-soft through your folds, avoiding your clit. You let out a sound that’s almost a sob and he chuckles, bringing his hand up to suck at the stickiness on his finger. 

“Hmm. Sweet.” 

“Bet it’s better from the source,” you shoot back, trying to make a jab and failing with how weak your voice is. 

“True,” he agrees, leaning forward. 

Your taste blooms on his tongue as he licks up your center, slow and patient. He savors the taste, humming as he does. You buck under his mouth and he grips your thighs, pulling you open. You’re warm and wet and perfect, and he listens to your breath hitch as he licks you slowly, making sure to circle around your clit each time.

One of your hands shoots to his hair. He doesn’t mind as you pull. The sting feels good and spurs him on, eating you out properly. He loves the sounds you make for him, loves the way your thighs twitch as he sucks your click into his mouth, tongue flicking over it. 

It’s wet and messy and just the way he likes it, slick dripping down his chin as he presses himself in further, desperate to fuck you into sanity with just his mouth. 

He doesn’t have a problem doing it. You buck against his face and he lets you, holding his tongue flat for you to grind against. Your fingers in his hair have him in a vice grip and he moans, a steady stream of mhmmm dripping sweet from his mouth into your heat. 

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Come on,” he mouths against you. “Take what you want, baby.” 

The endearment slips from him more natural than anything he’s ever done. His fingers squeeze your thighs as you undulate against him, his entire attention fixated on you as the begin to shake. Your hand twists in his hair and he groans, equal parts pain and pleasure as you come apart. 

He hums in satisfaction, keeping his mouth working on you, drinking you in as you continue to tremble. The power trip that comes with seeing you come is unmatched, lighting a fire in him as he licks you to oversensitivity.

“Minho,” you beg, voice squeaking. He grins, kissing your cunt before he mouths his way back up to you, capturing your mouth with his. You’re eager to taste yourself, tongue licking at him more than anything, smearing your slick on his lips. He feels his eyes roll back. You’re going to kill him. “More.”

Minho would conquer the world and call it yours if you wanted him to. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give you. Pretending otherwise was the great folly of man, he realizes, as he shuffles you up the bed and climbs between your legs, standing up on his knees.

You watch him, pupils blown and fucked out as he heaves. He can hardly catch his breath as he reaches down to take his cock in his hand, pumping leisurely as he watches you. The way you look at him like you’ll consume him whole makes him shiver. He wants you to. Want you to burn him up until there’s nothing left. 

Leaning down, he drops his cock out of his hand in favor of sliding a hand between you’re legs. You’re a mess of spit and cum, making the glide easy as he slips a finger into your heat to work you open. Your head falls to the side, giving him access to suck at your jawline as he fucks you open with his finger, adding a second when he knows you can take it. 

Your hips roll up to meet his thrusts as he scissors his fingers open, pressing against your warm walls to push the stretch further. You’re putty in his hands but he’s a mess in yours, too. He’s shaking by the time he slips his hand from between your legs to press the crown of his cock at your entrance, hesitating. 

Minho looks up at you. He already knows there’s no going back for him, three years of his own stubborn delusions robbing him of what could have been. But he asks, anyway. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure for a long time. It was you who needed convincing.” 

“What a stuipd man I am.”

“Yes,” you agree. “But mine.” 

That drives him wild. Simple words and yet the very action of you claiming him erodes the last bit of resistance. He pushes into you and goes slow with a considerable amount of effort, shaking and panting as he tries to keep it together. 

You’re warm and tight and twitches of pleasure ripple through him from cock to stomach. Minho swears he comes alive for the first time as he seats himself in your cunt to the hilt, barely able to catch his breath as he ducks down to press his mouth against yours.

It’s not delicate, but it isn’t the same ferocity as earlier. It’s something else that lingers between madness and relief. He only begins to move when he feels your hips wiggle. He smiles into the kiss, retracting his hips before surging forward again. 

Delirious. That is the only word that comes to mind as he starts to fuck you slow and deep. Your mouths bump together but you’re both breathing raggedly, shaking together. Your hands card through his hair, soothing and soft. His lashes flutter as he drops his head further. You press your lips against his forehead as he picks up the pace, letting your hands worship him as he fucks you.

How could he ever think he was sparing you from him? How could he ever make the mistake that if he kept on the fringes, you wouldn’t leave him ruined like this? It seems unimaginative now. Like something that was always meant to happen. 

No wonder Collect Co. knew he would go running to you like a dog when they assigned you to him. Everyone else could admit it except him, an egregious error on his part.

But Minho has you now. Gasping his name and moving in his arms. Rolling your hips to meet his, your cunt clenching on his cock as he fucks you harder. He wants to dig into you and never let go. Wants to sink in to the very core and live there. 

“Mine,” you growl as though you can read his thoughts. “Even though you tried not to be. You are mine, Lee Minho.”

When you say his full name like that, voicing the boy who could have been and now who is, he starts to come apart. His pace quickens as he chases your second release, holding you tight to him as he feels you clench longer and longer around him until you’re sobbing his name and spilling down his shaft.

Minho all but growls your name as he comes. Never again will you be Builder. You’re his. First and last name his to say. The acknowledgment almost makes him cry as he slows his thrusts, gasping for air as he tosses his head back, heat escaping between the two of you. 

Finally, he stops fucking you, hands linked with yours as he leans up to catch his breath. He’s still seated in you, feeling the cum drip between where your ass is pressed against his thighs. He doesn’t care, feeling the sweat and the water from his shoulder drip down his back.

His arm burns where he’s used it. He’d been unaware of the pain while lost in you, but he feels it now, throbbing. He doesn’t care. He’d do it again a thousand times.

Slowly, he unravels from you. Your hands don’t let him go far, pulling him down next to you to roll toward. He smiles, tired and dreamy at the edges as he lets you. The bed is soft against his balmy skin, the cool air helping calm him down. 

Finally, both of you can breathe. He knows that he needs to shower again, but he doesn’t want to get up. He wants to keep you near. Now that he’s all in, he wants to stay all in. 

“We should call this place the Jungle Rodeo.” He cracks an eye open at you to realize you’re hiding a grin as you look up at him. “You know, since we can’t go back to Neon Rodeo.”

“What is it with you and rodeos?” 

“You find Cowboys at the rodeo.” 

“Oh?”

“And you’re here… so… it’s a rodeo.” 

He blinks at you. “Your intellect is astounding.” 

You laugh and it’s like taking a JumpPack straight to his bloodstream, a rush of energy and euphoria driving him upward and toward you. He smothers you with kisses, driving by the need to taste you again. You let him, giggling. 

“What do you say then, hmm?” he growls, nipping your bottom lip. “Want to go for another ride?”

“That joke was terrible.” 

“You know what they say. When at the rodeo.” 

You laugh again and Minho is a goner once more, just like he was the first day he met you at Neon Rodeo. 

-

TAG LIST:

@stayceebs97 @skzswife @bettybeako

[taesankisser]

texts with vampire!roommate lino

warnings: lots of blood, mentions of unaliving someone, reader feels overwhelmed, crying, empty threats, a sprinkle of dark humor, this is super silly/unserious!

author’s note: here’s something a lil fun & different than what i usually post!! tbh this was really natural & entertaining for me to write so lmk if you’d like a part 2! have a great day/night!

- lots of love, solar!

[hoes4lino]

A Mistake I Will Never Regret ❄️

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains suggestive / nsfw content. Minors please don’t interact, beware of the content you consume online.

Genre: Friends to lovers, comedy, romantic, college AU.

Word count: 4.8k

Reading time: 18 minutes

“Making this plan was a mistake but I don’t regret the outcome”

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

The cold breeze of January made your body shiver as you waited patiently for your best friend to arrive. You paced in circles, pointer finger stuck in between your teeth as you bit it anxiously.

This was a bad idea. You told yourself, you don’t even recognize yourself for what you are about to do.

A loud thump and the cold sensation in your neck made you turn around quickly. He was here. There was no turning back.

His soft laugh embraced your ears as you rolled your eyes annoyingly “You are so annoying, you know that” You glared at the boy that had literal tears forming in his eyes.

“Hey!” He snapped back “Says the girl that texted me in the middle of the night to meet up in the park on a snowy day” He mocked you, making you cringe at yourself as you remember why you are here.

“Right….” You mumbled, He noticed the shift in your mood and looked at you concerned “What is it?” He questioned you. Shit. You took a deep breath preparing yourself for what you’re about to request.

“How much do you love me?” Looking at him with puppy eyes making him scoff “I don’t have money if that’s what you want” You snort looking at him in disbelief “I don’t need money”

He tilted his head confused “Are you in trouble?” “No” “Are you in your death bed?” “No” “Are you leaving?” “No.” He stopped questioning you to think.

“Will you let me-” He cut you off “OMG ARE YOU PREGNANT?” This man can never be serious “You know I had my doubts, ever since I saw you looking at the baby clothes at target” You bend to grab a snowball and threw it at his face.

“Hey!” He yelled as he cleaned the snow in his face “Im not pregnant! And can you blame me? That tiny dinosaur pj was hella cute” You scoff.

“Well if you are not pregnant then what is it?” The way he looked at you made it a hundred times more difficult to say.

“I need you to pretend to be in love with me” You cringe at your words as he stood there with a straight face.

A minute passed no words just intense eye contact “Say something” You practically begged. His body falling to the ground as he frantically started laughing.

“C’mon Minho I’m serious!!” You grabbed his hood to pull him back to his feet. “Damn late hours in the night really do wonders to people” He teased making you regret for even suggesting him.

“Pleaseee” You throw yourself to your knees and begged him grabbing his leg “I will never ever ask you for another favor” You look up at him with puppy eyes making him roll his eyes.

“Ok but like for what? Girl I need more details” You stood up happy that he accepted, you pulled him into a hug. “I will tell you more in the morning, Im freezing to death right now” You said as you started running away like a child who just got in their way.

“Wait y/n!!” He started chasing after you.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

“Ok so let me get this straight” Your best friend traced as he took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“You like Hyunjin.” He looked up as to see if he understood everything you just told him “But he only likes girls that are hard to get, so you want me to pretend like im one of your hoes… to make him jealous?” He squinted his eyes as he spoke.

“You make it sound dumb but yeah that’s the plan” You grin at him as you offered him a piece of your chocolate croissant which he accepted.

He laughed “What are we high schoolers?” He teased gaining a glare from you “I know it’s childish, but what’s life without drama?” You say gaining a preach gesture from Minho.

“You got a point, so when are we starting” He said vaguely as he grabbed his phone. “As soon as possible, but remember! You are the one that needs to pretend like you want me.” You grabbed his phone so he would look at you.

“Yeah, yeah I know” He said rolling his eyes “But what’s in for me?” He questioned making you scrunch your face, you didn’t thought about that. After all he is indeed helping you.

“I mean you might get laid from this plan, so what do I get in return?” He raised an eyebrow as you looked deep in thought. “Umm… Remember Clarissa from our sociology class? I will get you a date with her” You said hoping he would accept that deal, although convincing her was going to be rather hard.

“Im not really into her but she is hot so… deal” He said stretching his arm towards you. You giggled at the gesture you loved how he was always there for you.

“It’s a pleasure making business with you Lee Minho” You took his hand and shook it before both of you bursted out laughing.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

But sometimes things don’t always go as planned.

At least you never expected to see your best friend in between your legs as an outcome of this plan.

What started as a ‘How to turn on a man’ lesson end up in a rather heated…whatever situation this is.

It’s been around a month since Minho and you agreed to play this little “Lets make Hyunjin jealous” game. And to your surprise it worked perfectly. After days of Minho giving you the princess treatment during school hours, Hyunjin started getting a little annoyed and decided to ask you out on a date.

“So once he is in between your legs, he should leave wet pecks all over your thighs” His cold finger pads traveling along your burning skin, indicating where ‘Hyunjin’ should kiss you.

In this moment you aren’t sure if he still has Hyunjin in mind. At least you don’t.

You called him to visit your dorm because Hyunjin invited you to a date. And you being the virgin you are, you needed help to know what to do in a heated situation.

The night started normally, just two best friends gossiping and giggling about the situation in hand. He looked genuinely happy for you though he was feeling a little feisty today.

“Just cause he asked you out doesn’t mean he wants to kiss you” He said as he laid down on your bed, his face snuggling against your favorite plushy.

“Ouch” You said as you joined him in bed “But what if~” You trace shaking his body to get his attention. Then suddenly out of nowhere he unattached from your plushy and pushed you on the bed to pin you down. You did not see that coming.

“Then, welcome to ‘How to turn on a man 101” He teased as he moved away from you and stood up. You were about to stand up but he was quick to sit you down on the edge of the bed.

“Tsk Tsk Tsk” He moved his finger in a no manner “You will remain seated like the good student you are” He patted your head “Yes Professor Minho” You said in annoyance at his little game. “There you go, good girl” Those words shouldn’t have made you feel butterflies in your tummy.

“Ok so” He sat next to you “Lets pretend I’m Hyunjin, we are watching a movie” He began explaining the plot of the fictional situation.

“I’m gonna wrapped my arm around the back of your shoulder” He said as he did the action, pulling you closer to his body, making you stiff “Now don’t do that” He turned to look at you “If you stiffen your body he will think you don’t want that and will give you space” He explained “We are trying to get you laid not respected” He then stopped as he processed his words.

“I mean. I don’t want you to get disrespected, the moment he does something you don’t like you call me and I will beat hi-” You chuckle lightly “I get what you mean Minho” He smiled warmly “Good”

“So try to relax yourself” You do as he says gaining a satisfactory smile from him. “Now consider this as his move, in order for something to happen there should be a balance, show you interest” He looked at you waiting for you to do something.

“This is not going to work… Im too awkward- what am I supposed to do” You said frustrated, making him pinch the bridge of his nose.

“It has to be something smooth… maybe try grabbing my hand that’s on your shoulder and play with my fingers” You listen to him like an eager puppy that’s willing to learn few tricks to get a treat.

You do as he said, lightly touching his hands, your fingers intertwining with his as you opted to rest your head on his shoulder.

He looked at you with a bright smile “Look at my pupil” She patted your head “Such a fast learner” You giggle at the compliment, you always loved how he would always encourage you whenever you did something that was new to you.

After that, the hours seemed blurry, you can’t quite recall how he ended up in between your legs. It all started in an innocent way. How did we get here.

You are both fully clothed though the bulge in his grey sweatpants is hard to miss. You low-key regret wearing shorts, cause the way he was tracing his fingers in your legs shouldn’t be this delightful.

It felt like if someone was teasing you with a feather, it was taking you a lot of self determination to not react to his touch. Him on the other hand was shameless; he had no intentions to hide how much he was enjoying this, lust written in those chocolate eyes of him.

“Though” This was the first word you heard in a while, breaking the intoxicating tension in the silent room “I doubt he will enjoy this as much as I am right now” He moved to look directly into your eyes a teasing smug on his face.

You scoff “You pervert” You sat down to hit his shoulder, His laugh erupting in the room. “You asked for my help, I gave you a tiny preview of what could happen” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s too late, are you not sleeping over?” You remarked as he stood up to grab his jacket “Honey after this I’m afraid I can’t stay over” You knew what he meant, his erection was too obvious and probably painful as well.

You just hummed in understanding and walked him to the door. You were already beginning to regret this plan. As you closed the door you stood there for a couple seconds hoping he would knock and stay the night with you.

Yet it didn’t happen. You curse yourself for wanting something else to happen, he was your best friend he was just helping you for your date tomorrow. Though you wondered if he felt something… maybe a spark… something… anything.

You yeeted yourself to your bed, trying to drown the craving you had to feel his lips in yours or in any other part of your body. Taking a few deep breaths you were able to fall asleep. Oh the adventure that awaits you.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

“phewww” Minho whistled as you entered your bedroom, You were wearing a black dress that screamed slut me out. You found it quite odd that Hyunjin invited you to a party on your first date.

You would be lying if you say you weren’t expecting something more intimate, more romantic at least. But you won’t complain, parties are the perfect place to get laid and when your date is Hwang Hyunjin you won’t miss the chance.

“Look at you” Minho said as he stood up from your bed and made his way to you. You could feel his presence behind you as you tried to wear your necklace.

Both of you made eye contact through the mirror as he touched your hand for you to give him the necklace. While you grabbed your hair, he gently helped you put it in.

“I wonder who gave you such beautiful necklace” He teased making you laugh. He gifted it to you for your 19th Birthday a year ago and since then he always expects you to credit him every time you wore it. But can you blame him? It was a Swarovski necklace he bought with his hourly shift job when he was 20. Now that’s a friend to keep.

“At this point Im going to engrave a ‘Gifted by Minho’ on the necklace so everyone knows” You teased back making his chuckle.

“Are you ready for the party?” He said looking at you from the mirror, you nodded simply “Are you going too?” You questioned as you saw his outfit.

“Yeah, I’m trying to see if I get lucky and bring someone back to my dorm” He smirked making you snort in disgust “Too much info Minho!” You shook your head trying to erase the picture your brain created of him with someone else in bed.

“You imagined it didn’t you” Oh god how much you would love to erase that stupid smug off his face. “You are so annoying you know that?” He laughed “I wonder how many more times Im going to hear that from you” He tilted his head to look at you closer “Till I die” You said before going to get your phone which was ringing for the couple last minutes.

“It’s time for me to go” You announced as you re entered the room to get your purse “please-" He cut you off to finish your sentence “Lock the door when I leave, I know” He said with a soft tone and a smile.

You couldn’t help but reciprocate the smile “I will tell you all the deets later, bye!” You said closing the door to meet with your date, leaving Minho alone in your dorm.

“Of course you will” He said sitting down on your bed quietly. He would be lying if he said he is not excited for you, but deep down he wanted to be selfish and pull you back from Hyunjin.

When he accepted this plan he hoped some spark would light up on you and realize he likes you, however it never did and what pisses him off is that the plan worked just how you said it would.

How could you be so blind with his feelings? He sighed before standing up to leave your dorm, locking the door as you commanded.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

“Ummm Hyunjin…” You said uncomfortably, you been in this frat party for God knows how long. The beginning was perfect, you and Hyunjin had so much fun, even made out for a couple of minutes, however as the alcohol progressively started to take over his brain he began to lose interest in you.

“What?” He said, his tone sounding more aggressively than he wanted to “I’m sorry” He slurred “What’s wrong?” He asked again this time sounding more concerned “I umm I want to leave” You said softly a little ashamed that you are basically taking him out of the party.

“Ok bye” He pecked your lips before returning to talk to his friends, you tilted your head taken aback, you tapped his shoulder to get his attention again “You are not leaving with me?” You questioned him once he turned to look at you again “Pfft Fuck no” He said as his friends next to him began to laugh.

oh.

You needed some air.

You walked to the bathroom to get away from all that noise, you tried your best to swallow your tears. Everything was going so perfect… when did everything went down. Did he not like the way you kissed him? Maybe the dress was too much… makeup maybe?

You sighed as you made your way out of the bathroom, walking back to the spot you were with Hyunjin to get your purse. Even when the lights were dim and your vision was blurry you could see his figure kissing someone else, you were about to take another step when someone grabbed your waist and stopped you.

“I have your purse let’s go” Minho said worried “No.” You tried to escape his embrace to see it closely. Maybe your eyes were playing a trick on you. You needed to confirm it.

“Y/n” He said softly making you look up at him “Let’s go baby” He pouted making you sighed, swallowing your tears again. You couldn’t let anyone else see you cry.

The car ride was silent, Minho played few of your favorite songs to cheer you up, yet nothing could drown the embarrassment and humiliation you felt at that moment. He walked you to your apartment. He hoped to hear a word from you, yet it didn’t happen.

You were about to close the door without saying a single thanks, this pissed him off. He stopped you before you could close the door, it startled you by the loud bang of his hand against the door.

“I won’t let you go without even hearing a single word from you” He said looking intensely at you. That’s when you broke down, tears streaming down your face, your head down. “I- I thought he might be the one” You began crying. The alcohol in your system making you spill everything you been keeping.

“Im about to turn 21 next year and yet I have never ever dated anyone” You slurred, Minho didn’t know what to do exactly at that moment, he was taken aback by your sudden meltdown.

He stepped inside your dorm and closed the door behind him, locking it before helping you reach your bed. You sat down on your bed as you kept yapping about how you craved to be loved by someone special, Minho just looked at you as he stood in-front of you.

Cursing you in his head as he has been there this whole time dying to get a chance.

“Minho do you think Im pretty” You raised your head to look at him, your doe eyes shining like the stars. Minho looked at your face, your mascara ruined from your tears, and your plump lips formed in a pout. If he were to make you cry it would be for another reason, cause fuck. You looked hot in his eyes. He shook his head trying to erase that thought from his mind. Not the moment Minho. Maybe those shots got into his brain.

When you saw him shaking his head tears began to shred like there wasn’t a tomorrow, Minho panicked as he saw the way you misunderstood his actions. If only you knew what he was thinking about.

“I- No y/n” He crouched to be eye level with you “I didn’t mean that” He said with eyes filled with panic “Liar!” You hit his shoulder as you kept crying.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or your tears or maybe he was just too desperate, however never in a million years he thought he would be brave enough to kiss you.

He didn’t even notice he was kissing you until you accidentally moaned in his lips. He separated off you as quick as he was to kiss you.

“Shit y/n… I’m sorry- I had too many vodka sh-” This time he was the one to accidentally slip a moan as your lips crashed on his.

You flung your arms around his neck and you pulled him to the bed with you. They say love is a weird emotion, it surges from tiny actions and it vanishes when its not the right person. How does someone’s heart know who is the right one though?

That’s the funny part. It doesn’t. Love is like a russian roulette, it comes and goes, however with Minho, it was always there. It never vanished no matter how annoying he got at times. You just were too blind to accept your feelings. Maybe afraid of the rejection that could have come with confessing.

When humans are in love they rather live their lives filled with ‘what if’s’ than being rejected by those who their heart choose. That’s why people say Love is a coward emotion, because only those who are brave enough are capable of experiencing it.

“Y/n shit” He cursed as you involuntarily grinded on his crotch as he kissed you “I- I can’t do this, not when you are-” You stopped his sentence to peck his cheek “just the tip?” You said in an innocent voice.

And that’s how only three words could break down his moral of never fucking a drunk girl, specially you. He wanted the moment to be special but how could he resist when you were practically begging him.

Let this be a mistake he will regret in the morning. Cause fuck it he won’t hold back. “Just the tip” He grunted as he kissed your neck, his hands groping your ass and thighs.

He was about to slip his hand under your dress to touch your pussy when he remembered something important. At least to him. You were a virgin.

“Fuck I can’t do this” He sat up leaving you dumbfounded “Why?” You protested “You kissed me first so I thought you would” He was quick to stop your words “It’s not that… I do want you, Fuck I been dying for this the moment I met you, I have even daydreamed about fucking a child inside of you the moment I saw you in the child section at target” He started rambling nonsense he doesn’t even know where it was coming from.

His words sent a million butterflies rushing to your tummy, your legs pressing against each other “But…” You trace tilting your head waiting for him to continue “but… you are a virgin and I want you to be a hundred percent sure that you want me to be the one” You chuckle lightly.

“I am sure though” You said moving to sit on his lap and kiss his neck slowly “No… you are drunk” He said caving into your kisses. “I promise you that I only had 2 mimosas and that was hours ago” You said trying to convince him you were pretty much sober by now which was indeed true.

“What’s 8 x 8” Here it was the stupid mathematical questions he would always pull on you to see how coherent you were “64” You rolled your eyes “Square root of 12?” “144, c’mon give me something hard” You said annoyed waiting for him to believe you.

“You are sitting on it” It took you a moment to process what he meant, your cheeks flushing as you felt it. You hit his shoulder and hid your face with your hands “You are so annoying y-” “I know that” He teased as he grabbed you to lay you down on the bed, his body pinning yours.

His smirk sends tremors through your knees. "You wanna know a secret...?" You hold your breath as he leers closer, allowing you to better see the lust flickering through his umber eyes. "I been holding back to just bend you down ever since we started this little plan, I hope you turn into little slut for my cock..."

Holy shit. Who would say you would hear those words coming out of his mouth.

The wave of wetness that pools between your thighs immediately soaks your underwear. It takes every bit of your lingering self control to not grind your best friend's crotch like a horny rabbit.

Even so, you find it more and more difficult to repress your dirty desires as Minho trails his hands up your legs, pausing to lift and wrap your knee around his hips. So this is what heaven feels like. You nearly moan as you feel his erection pushing against your pelvis.

"Oh fuck—" Your brain completely short circuits, unable to stop your desperate moans. Yours and his moans bleed into one another as your clothed cores come into contact. Minho's fingers tighten on your leg-just shy of bruising.

“Please just the tip” You begged as you seek to make eye contact with him.

You wonder if he can feel the extent of your wetness against the front of his jeans, but all thoughts are chased away when he dragged his finger on top of your swelling folds.

"Fucking hell" He hisses, his hand beside your head tightening into a fist- "You are so wet for me… it feels like dream” You chuckle at him, too drunk on the sensation.

“I'm not gonna I-last if you are this wet for me..." His words only motivate your intentions, thrusting your hips into his fingers, desperate to feel his. Seeking more leverage, you wind your arms around his waist and tug him even closer against your body. His face seeks refuge in the crook of your neck as you continue, further fueled by the hot breathe caressing your collarbones.

"Fine. I’ll give you what you want” He said breathlessly as he sat to take his pants off and raised your dress enough to let him see your wet panties. He wanted to let you keep some modesty and you were grateful for that.

You silently agree with your companion to keep your top clothes on, gasping loudly when his tip tap on your cunt. He moved it up and down your arousal to wet him a little bit. You both breathed heavily at the sensation. Just the tip. Just the tip. He kept remind himself as his tip slowly made his way inside your cunt.

He made sure to go as slow as possible to not make you uncomfortable, he wished you would have let him eat you out before stretching you, but Mrs little impatient didn’t let him.

The way your warm cunt clenched on his tip was making it hard to focus on the task in hand, which was not enter you fully. But how could he restrain himself when your hand is playing with clit in front of him. It was like you were taunting him. Speak of the devil cause you might be the temptation in person.

And oh god you were indeed the devil cause if it wasn’t for the way you desperately asked him for more he would’ve just done the tip. However someone was greedy and the next time he knew he was fully inside you trusting his cock deep inside you.

The lewd sounds embraced the room, the sloppy sound of your arousal and the thump of his pelvis hitting yours turning both of you even more.

His lips never left your body, he was either leaving love bites in your chest or kissing your mouth like it was your last day.

Although everything felt so sudden, it felt right. The passion the lust everything. It felt like the best timing.

It wasn’t until his kisses got sloppier that you knew he was close to cum, you grabbed his hair and squeezed it tightly as he switched your position, placing couple pillows under you so he could have better access to your cunt.

If you thought he couldn’t go any deeper you were wrong. His dick rubbing that spot that’s been getting teased for a while now. He pressed his hand on your stomach just so he could see how deep his dick was inside you. And oh lord that drove him to the edge. You both cling to one another as your climaxes approach one after another.

Minho's guttural groan triggered a release that spills white-hot bliss through your veins. You can feel your cunt pulsating as you fight to catch your breath. It's not until post nut clarity hits you that you realize what was going on.

"Did we just?” You asked embarrassed as the man cling into you hummed happily, his hot breath hitting your neck.

"You were the one begging for it you better not regret it" He teased as he hugged you even more tightly, if this was a dream he hoped he would never wake up.

You shove Minho with a newfound adrenaline, staring at his confused expression “You are annoying. I really hope you know that.” He began to frantically laugh as he pecked your lips “And you love that charm of mine, I know that”

The rest of the night was spent in kisses and chuckles, until you both finally drifted into a slumber sleep. This whole plan was a mistake you will never regret.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ

A/N: Sorry I made Hyunjin the bad guy, this character indeed does not fit his personality but as always remember that my fics never correlate to any of the idols real image, its all pure fiction. Also I didn’t proofread this, as I rushed to finish it on a school night, let me know of there’s any typos. Hope y’all enjoy! <;3

[moni-logues]

Oooh, your requests are open! Any rules or prompt list? If there are none, please may I request the following?

You, as BTS Jungkook's Noona. You have a loving sibling relationship, the kind where parents would love for their children to have with each other. The only complaint you have is that he sometimes acts like the older brother, which can be a little claustrophobic when it happens (e.g. chaperoning you on your date when you were teenagers, having a word with your boss when you were overlooked for a well-deserved promotion, etc). Especially when you were a strong (emotionally and mentally, at least) woman, and totally able to f9ght your own battles. Aside from his BTS members, he's good friends with Bang Chan and Minho from SKZ. Given his overprotective tendency, how does he react when he find out that some of his members + Chan and Minho have feelings for you?

Thank you, and please let me know if you have any questions or concerns?

ok so this is like, the very lite version of what you've asked for lmao because I wanted to keep it brief and it could so easily have got out of hand

I don't even really know what to categorise this as.

It's Jungkook's older sister x (potentially) Chan or Minho. It's three men being idiots. It has the tiniest bit of cheek. It is... what it is lol

Word count: 640

Content: none to warn for

Three Men and a Lady

“Hold on,” Jungkook said firmly, his hands up in front of him. “You both like her?” 

“Yes,” Chan and Minho answered.  

“And I’m supposed to decide which one of you gets to ask her out?” 

“No,” Chan replied emphatically. “You have to tell us which one of us she likes more.” 

“I don’t think she likes either of you.” 

Chan and Minho exchanged a confused look.  

“Neither of us?” 

“Why would she like you?”  

They looked at each other again, somewhat at a loss for words. They hung out all the time with Jungkook, and that meant, a lot of the time, with his sister, too; they all had fun together. She must like them at least a little. Surely? 

“Why wouldn’t she?” Minho asked.  

Jungkook stared at the two of them. Yes, they were his friends. He liked them. They were good guys. Good enough for his sister? That was where his conviction wobbled. No one was good enough for his sister.  

He sat back against the sofa and considered it. She could certainly do worse. She had, in fact, already done worse. If she dated one of his best friends, he could probably far more easily keep an eye on things than if it were some other random guy. Chan and Minho were giving him a choice, too. He got to make the decision. He liked that because his sister quite clearly couldn’t make a good decision on her own. But he would have to approach it carefully; both men were competitive and he didn’t want this to ruin their friendship. 

On the other hand, both men were competitive, and that could be a lot of fun. 

“Ok.,” he said, sitting forward again, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do it like this. A competition.” 

Both suitors pulled a face.  

“JK, that sounds weird.”  

“What is this, like 1700 or something? We’re not competing. We’re not trying to impress you.” 

“You should be if you want me to pick you!” 

“You’re not picking us! SHE is. We’re just asking if you know what HER pick is!” 

“And you clearly don’t,” Minho accused, with a roll of his eyes. 

“Woah woah woah...” JK’s hands were up in defence once more. “Let’s just calm down-” 

“Why are we calming down?”  

All three male heads turned to see the woman in question exit from her bedroom. They froze, like deer in headlights.  

“Uh,” Chan began, not sure where he was going after that.  

“Well, it’s-... Uh,” Jungkook stammered.  

“Jungkook is wilfully misunderstanding us,” Minho explained without really explaining.  

“Sounds about right,” she scoffed affectionately.  

“Oi!” 

“You know it’s true.” 

She continued on into the kitchen area of the living space, very much still within earshot, so the guys stayed quiet, trying to make non-awkward conversation with her as she prepared a sandwich and made a coffee.  

None of them had realised she was in. She was supposed to be out—at a gym session or class or something—that was why the conversation was taking place there. Jungkook was supposed to have made sure she was out.  

They were figuratively holding their breath, unsure what she might have heard. Chan and Minho knew she would be furious. She was frequently furious with Jungkook and his over-protectiveness. His possessiveness. She was his sister. His older sister, at that, and took great exception to the way Jungkook acted as her keeper and protector. If she found out Chan and Minho had gone to him first, well, neither of them would ever get to date her. Or probably even speak to her ever again.  

“It’s Chan, by the way,” she said as she took her plate and mug back to her bedroom. 

“What?” 

She paused in the doorway. 

“Chan. He’s the one I like. Sorry, Minho.” 

Then she winked and shut the door behind her.  

[jae-bummer]

Only If The Cats Approve

Request: I have a request for a Lee Know fic where when you first find your soulmate you have to be near them 24/7 for a certain amount of time. Also, the reader has been waiting for their soulmate their whole life and is super excited while Lino isn’t super into the idea. The rest is up to you.

Pairing: Stray Kids Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Grumpy x Sunshine (some fluff, a smidge of angst)

.

"Are you going to pick that up?"

Lee Know stared blankly in Hyunjin's direction before sending the call to voice mail.

"Well, that was rude," Hyunjin muttered, looking back down to his sketchbook.

"Hyung," Han sighed, plopping next to his older member. "You know how this works."

"I don't need a soulmate," Lee Know muttered, focusing in on the television. He had flipped on a drama to keep his mind busy but hadn't been watching it at all. No matter how much he resisted the idea, his thoughts kept turning back to you.

"I didn't say you did," Han treaded carefully. "I just think it might-"

"I have the members," Lee Know cut in, still refusing to look anywhere but the television. "That's enough."

"But someday-"

"I said that's enough."

Han sighed, knowing this argument was futile. He was there the day that Lee Know had bumped into you on the streets of Gangnam. Even though he had witnessed literal hearts erupt from his member's eyes, he also saw how quickly the older man was able to shut it down. He knew he would never admit it, but he was scared. It was hard enough for him to trust the seven of them on a daily basis, let alone someone the "universe" had picked for him.

Buzz

Buzz Buzz

Glancing up from his drawing, Hyunjin arched a brow. "Now you can't ignore that."

"Watch me," Lee Know muttered, settling back into the couch.

Groaning as he pulled himself to his feet, Han shuffled toward the door. Pressing the button to their intercom he tried to hide the sigh in his voice. "Hi, Y/N."

"Hey, Hannie!" you smiled. "Lee Know up there?"

"No," Lee Know called from the living room.

"You know he is," Han grimaced.

"I'll be up in a sec then!" you called, mounting the stairs two at a time.

The moment you had realized you found your soulmate was something you'd remember for the rest of your life. You were meeting a friend for lunch when you came across a group of rowdy men, pushing and shoving at each other as they attempted to enter the same restaurant as you. In the scuffle, you had somehow gotten wrapped up in their group, nearly falling to the ground as one of the men accidentally shoved your shoulder.

He had looked at you in shock, stumbling over himself to apologize until you had made eye contact. Not to sound too cartoonish, but it was like a bell had gone off in your mind. Something clicked and you both knew.

Luckily, the group of men were seated in the booth beside your friends, so you could start diving into the man who would be your inevitable future. It was common when someone met their soulmate to spend nearly every waking moment with them as you seemed to sync up. If you neglected each other during this time period, the flip that had been switched on when you had met could gradually switch off. You knew your teachers in high school biology had attempted to explain the phenomenon, but you couldn't remember the first thing about it now. All you knew was that you weren't going to have this love match go to waste.

Letting yourself into the Stray Kids dorm, you popped off your shoes and were immediately met by Han.

"I got you a caramel latte," you said cheerfully, handing him a drink. "I picked an Americano with just a little bit of cream for Lee Know. I wasn't sure how he took his coffee."

Han nodded, taking a long pull from his straw. "That's pretty much exactly how he takes it."

"I don't like coffee," Lee Know grunted from his spot on the couch.

"Now that's a damn lie," Hyunjin muttered. Just as Lee Know began to shoot him a dirty look, he sprung up from his seat, and tossed his sketchbook aside. Going full grabby fingers, he reached toward the coffee carrier. "Is the Iced Americano for me?"

"You already know," you grinned, plucking your own drink out, as well as Lee Know's. Sidling over to him, you plopped on a cushion, setting his coffee on the table in front of the couch. "What are we watching?"

"Something boring," Lee Know grumbled, crossing his arms. "You would hate it."

"Then why are you watching it?" you laughed.

"Because I like boring things," he muttered. "I am very boring. You probably shouldn't spend time with me."

"Yeah right," you laughed. "What do you mean? You're a blast."

"I don't know if they're being sarcastic or not," Hyunjin whispered to Han.

"What?" you gasped. "I love hanging out with you guys."

"Oh, "guys" being plural," Hyunjin nodded. "We are fun."

"But especially Lee Know," you nodded. "He always knows how to make me laugh."

In response, your soulmate curled his lip, causing you to grin.

"He likes playing hard to get," you teased, elbowing him as you looked to Han and Hyunjin.

You weren't stupid. You knew he was playing more than hard to get. It was obvious that he didn't want much to do with you on a good day. In any normal circumstance, you would cut your losses and just leave him be, but this was meant to be your life partner. Just when you thought he was a lost cause, you would catch his eyes for a split second and your knees would go weak. His face would immediately soften, his lips forming a small "o" as he allowed himself to stare back. It would only take a moment for him to completely shut you out again, but he had to force himself to do so. You would worm your way into his heart eventually, it just took patience.

"I don't play anything," Lee Know spat, finally addressing you for the first time since you had entered the apartment. "I don't understand why you keep trying when I'm not interested."

"You don't honestly think I believe-"

"I don't care what you believe!" he gasped. "I don't care about you! At all!"

Well, that hurt. Trying your hardest not to cry, you sucked in your lower lip. Glancing from Lee Know to the two other men in the room, their expressions were also shocked. Looking on with wide eyes, they both slowly began to back out of the room and into the kitchen.

"Lee Know, I-" you began, the words thick in your throat.

"Look," he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be a jerk, but I don't want you here. I don't want to hang out. I don't want to get to know you."

"I-I," you whimpered. How could he say that out loud when you both knew it wasn't true? Barring anything he may personally think, it was biologically impossible. He was predisposed to care about you.

"Leave," he sighed. "Please."

His brows were furrowed as he turned away, refusing to speak any further. Slowly rising to your feet, you felt helpless.

"I'm," you said quietly, grabbing the two coffees on the table. "I'm taking back your coffee!"

Turning on your heel, you stomped toward the front door.

"We can keep ours, right?" Han winced, causing Hyunjin to slap his chest lightly.

"Y/N," the taller boy sighed. "You have to understand, this really isn't like him. He just needs some time-"

"This is me!" Lee Know yelled from the living area. "I'm a monster and they shouldn't be swayed to think otherwise."

Rolling his eyes, Han leaned in toward you. "Don't get too far. Let us talk to him, okay?"

Nodding pitifully, you sniffed into your sleeve. "Okay."

.

"Maaan," Han groaned, turning on Lee Know. "What the fuck?"

"That's what I'm thinking," Lee Know nodded. "I thought they would never leave."

"No," Han said, pointing an accusatory finger at the older man. "That was directed at you. Who acts like that towards someone who is supposed to be their soulmate?"

"I told you, I don't want-"

"Cut the shit," Hyunjin spoke up, immediately wilting as Lee Know turned a death glare his way. "Or don't. Please continue."

"You want love just as badly as the rest of us," Han sighed, sitting on the couch to speak on the same level as his member. "Our friendship is a type love that isn't even remotely the same. We're all partners in a different way. That can't ever be enough for you."

"Who says?"

"The universe," Hyunjin piped in. "Literally, biology."

Rolling his eyes, Lee Know let his head fall back to the cushion behind him. "It's just easier this way."

"Easy doesn't mean fulfilling," Han sighed. "Easy doesn't mean right."

"Why can't it?" Lee Know argued. "Feelings are so difficult...and messy."

"But so worth it," Han supplemented. "Remember when you first met all of us? You didn't want to open up back then either. But once you did, wasn't it all worth it?"

Leaning forward again, Lee Know eyed Hyunjin, who had put on his best smile.

"The jury is still out on that one."

This time, it was Hyunjin's turn to roll his eyes. "Just admit that you're scared."

"Admit that you cried watching The Spongebob Movie."

"I was traumatized when Patrick and Spongebob dried up under the heat lamp," Hyunjin snapped. "It was heartbreaking."

"If he can admit to that," Han said slowly. "Then you can admit..."

"Maybe I'm a little scared," Lee Know said almost too quickly for either boy to catch.

"I'm going to need you to repeat that," Hyunjin said, lifting his brows.

"Maybe I'm scared!" Lee Know gasped. "Maybe I think I'm unlovable! Maybe I don't trust easily!"

"There we go," Han smiled. "Now was that so hard?"

"I am in excruciating physical and mental pain," Lee Know pouted.

"Now," Han nodded. "March down stairs and tell Y/N all of this."

"You can't just expect me to go pour my heart out to a stranger," Lee Know scoffed.

"I can and you will," Han insisted. "I refuse to see you miserable and regret this moment for the rest of your life."

"Regrets are for the weak."

"Hyung," Han groaned, rubbing his temples. "Please, just do it for us. We'll never shut up about it if you don't."

Eying both of his younger members cautiously, Lee Know puckered his lips. "Do you mean Hyunjin will be even more of a nuisance to me?"

"In new and creative ways," Hyunjin nodded with a smile.

"Well, fuck me," Lee Know murmured, shaking his head. "Time to swallow my pride I guess."

"Rip it off like a band aid," Han nodded. "Word vomit it all out. That's how I operate."

"Such sage advice from someone with so much wisdom," Lee Know muttered, standing with a frustrated stomp. "Where did they go?"

"Downstairs," Han smiled. "I told them you'd be having a change of heart so they should stick around."

.

"Can I have my coffee back?"

Glancing up from your shoes, you were greeted by the tormented face of Lee Know. You wordlessly lifted his cup toward him, allowing him to take it from your fingers.

"Thanks," he whispered, clutching the cup for dear life. You could see a battle play across his face before he seemed to decide something. Easing down to sit on the bench beside you, he heaved a sigh. "Y/N, I-"

"Don't like me?" you squeaked. "Don't want me around? Hope my cat gets hit by a car?"

This caused him to you to sharply inhale, drawing your eyes from the ground to him.

"I would never want anyone's cat to get hit by a car," he urged, his voice passionate. "Not even my worst enemy."

"Why are you here, Lee Know?" you groaned. "Be honest."

"So," he began slowly. "I may or may not have been projecting my abandonment issues on you earlier."

You raised your brows, surprised out how direct he was being. "Yeah?"

"I recognize that I tend to push away the ones I love when they haven't seen my flaws," he continued in a monotone. "And when they do, I'm terrified they'll turn away from them, and in turn, me."

"Lee Know," you breathed, hardly believing he was finally breaking down this barrier. "Why are you telling me this?"

"For fear that Han or Hyunjin will make my life significantly more difficult than they already do," he said blandly. "I was threatened, and frankly, am not all of the way sure that I want to be sitting down here right now, but here I am."

"Here you are," you chuckled, shaking your head.

"I guess I'm really not that bad," he sighed. "If you get to know me."

"Quite the salesman," you grinned.

"I'm sorry I made you cry," he muttered with an eye twitch. "That really sucked."

"It did," you murmured. "But you have to know, I don't want this if someone else has to convince you to be here."

Lifting his brows, Lee Know tilted his head in thought. "That's fair."

"Could you just, could you look at me?" you pleaded.

Taking a deep breath, he began to nod. Slowly but surely he pivoted to face you, his focus wandering up your body before finally settling on your eyes.

His own grew wider as they took you in, his breathing more stifled and coming in quick bursts.

"I'm scared if I make direct eye contact for any prolonged period that you will see me, Y/N," he said quietly, not breaking contact despite the admission. "Really see me."

"Would that be so bad?"

"The literal worst," he smirked.

"Then why are you still looking at me?" you grinned.

"Because when I look into your eyes, I see us retired, owning a cat sanctuary on the countryside. I'll take up a niche hobby like making my own paper and you'll read books to me by the fire while I wait for the sheets to dry before I bind them," he said in a whispered stream of consciousness. "Soonie, Doongie, and Dori will be at least sixty years old by then, outliving all other cats in Korea and proving themselves to be immortal."

"I'm sorry," you said slowly, trying to keep up. "Are Soonie, Doongie, and Dori your cats?"

"And also my children," he nodded, hardly even blinking now. "Do you want to go meet them?"

"I would love to."

"Excellent," he grinned. "Maybe this will work out after all."

[zeroseuniverse]

Case File: Comflex

|Bang Chan|Lee Minho|Seo Changbin|Hwang Hyunjin|Han Jisung|Lee Felix| Kim Seungmin| Yang Jeongin|

Bang Chan:

Runaway Symphony Sounds of Love

Lee Minho:

The Whole Being Dead Thing Ilugna Secret Secret The Last Piece Of The Puzzle Nothing To Worry About Seeing You

Seo Changbin:

We Meet In The Night Treasure

Hwang Hyunjin:

Pliocalist Grandma Knows Best Say Hello To Goodbyes A Prince’s Freedom

Han Jisung:

Cold Last Piece Of The Puzzle

Lee Felix:

Balter Just For Us Expect the Unexpected

Kim Seungmin:

Blissful Beauty User Falling Again Memories Of You

Yang Jeongin:

Nosey Here By Your Side Two Wrongs Sometimes Make A Right

OT8:

You're Loved Hypothetical

[strlstlvr]

OBSESSED, stray kids finding an old fan tweet abt them ♡

- PART ONE; HYUNG LINE ! of course you were always their biggest fan, too bad they took a deep dive and found out how obsessed you actually were

⋆·˚ ༘ * smau, crack, a wee bit suggestive in changbins🫣

link to part two! maknae line <3

[locallixie]

housemates — lee know

> summary . how can you live your life peacefully with having your housemate constantly seducing you like that?!

> genre . smut, fluff, housemates au, forced proximity, housemate!minho, gn!reader.

> warnings . sexual tension, general sexual themes, minor language, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, tipsy sex.

(wc) > 6.3k

(sunny's note) ☆ "and they were roommates.” wanted to be sweet and cute, until lee minho is in the equation. sorry for the late upload, i had a really bad writing slump and progress was slow. but i made it!

You shouldn’t have agreed to this if you knew this was how it would turn out. What a mistake, your kindness that yourself and other has taken for granted. And currently stuck in a living situation that tested your patience every waking hours, your dormitory experience was no match for this.

Jisung had asked you for a ‘small’ favour a couple months earlier, about how his friend got evicted and was now homeless, wondering if you could let him stay for a while until he find a new place. First of all, that was not a small favor. Secondly, you didn’t even know this friend that he was talking about. And you were reluctant to let a stranger stay in your house right off the bat. You lived in a dorm before, but that was a dorm and not your own house.

“Please, [Y/N], just a couple months.” Jisung pushed over the phone, you could tell he was outside from the loud and slightly muffled noise that the speaker picked up upon.

Sighing, your soft spot for him would be the death of you. Agreed with hesitation, since you were glad you were out of the dorm life and regained your privacy, but it seemed that life had came to pull you back in. Jisung should be expecting your complaints if something bad happened between you and your new housemate.

From the first initial meeting, you got some of the weirdest vibe from this guy. Maybe it was the amount of black and leather he was dressed up in, or the bitchy look on his face that could kill with a single stare. How the fuck was Jisung friends with a person like this? They were the complete opposite of one another, the guy looked as if he committed first degree murders as his favourite past-time. What you meant was you were convinced that he was a sociopathic killer, and he was probably plotting yours and Jisung’s death soon.

For one person, he sure did had a lot of stuff. You three brought around eight or ten different sized carton boxes up to your apartment, not counting the two gigantic suitcases that he had to take a second trip with Jisung to go get. He must have been living in his old place for very long to have that much stuff, wonder why he got kicked out? Possibly because the landlord found the bodies with how sharp his eyes always glared at.

“Don’t worry about the rent, Minho can pay for his half.” Jisung reassured, starting his car. The engine roared loudly, it had been through a rough day of carrying all that stuff to here.

Before he left, Jisung told you one last thing. “Oh, and don’t be afraid to ask him for help around the house, Minho may look intimidating but he’s quite a sweet guy.” With that sentence stuck in the back of your head, he drove away. If you could even have enough courage to ask him to take the trash out, maybe that statement would be proven.

You did all the house chores yourself, you didn't ask for any assistance from Minho. Wether it was because you were used to having to do everything yourself, or he was just still as unapproachable as the first time you two met. But he too, barely talked to you. You heard his voice once or twice when he was on the phone, but he did not speak a full sentence to you and ought for short few words replies.

"Do you need any help?" Another voice emerged from behind your back, offering assistance.

You pulled the trash bag out of the can, "I'm good, thanks,"

"Whatever, suit yourself." Minho walked away. Not even a bit of small talk? It frustrated you of how aloof he was acting, he didn't want to get to know you at all. However, it pissed him off just as much, you would always shrug him off every-time he offered to help you. As you two had made it clear before, you hardly knew each other, and here you were living together as people of unfamiliarity.

You didn't know his last name, or how he met your three years best friend—Jisung. Neither did he held any personal information about you, he wasn't even sure which variation of your name was the correct one. Already a month has passed by and no one was willing to start up a conversation with the other person. This ice between you and Minho just kept getting thicker and colder.

Ranting on the phone, "I'm telling you, I can not get through him! I think he hate me!"

"Calm down, [Y/N], he doesn't hate you." Jisung reassured, sighing as this was the third phone call of the month that you were expressing your discontent for the same subject. "It's simple, just talk to him, even if it's small talk."

Hearing the front door opened, "Fuck, he's back, I'll talk to you later." You didn't let Jisung say 'bye', hanging up in the midst of his sentence.

Minho worked a nine-to-five job, you weren't sure of his occupation in particular. You got a sense of his routine, he would leave the house at exactly seven-fifty in the morning and usually came home around five or six—depending on the traffic that day. On few occasions, he was nice enough to bring food home for the both of you.

"Hey, you're back quite late today?" You asked, seeing the clock already hitting six at the moment.

He set down a few plastic bags on the table, "I got groceries on the way, I'll cook dinner." He explained shortly, bringing ingredients to the kitchen for preparation.

That was a first, he had never offered to cook before, much less thanking you for the meals you made for dinner. Guessed he was just hot and cold like that, and this was his way of showing his gratitude. You weren't mad, on what normal day would you have someone cook for you enjoy? You technically did everything yourself when you moved out a few years ago.

Watching his figure diligently cooking in the kitchen, it comforted you in an unusual way. He was like your own personal boyfriend—for tonight at least, he would cook and then sit at the table with you to eat, maybe he might even offer to wash the dishes. A fine, hard-working young man? Anyone who could scored him would probably be winning in life. You couldn’t hide your jealousy if he ever bring home a date.

He walked over to you, holding out a spoon with a small portion of thick orange liquid. Minho asked, “Try it, tell me if it suit your taste.”

The tangy flavour stood out immediately, he must have put something citrusy as it melt into your tastebuds. It was good, no, amazing even! This hidden talent of his was worth all the waiting you had done, you never knew Minho could be such a great chef. For a while, you thought this guy couldn’t possibly hold a knife correctly, yet you were proven wrong of your assumptions.

You nodded, the sound you made when encountered good food already told him enough. Everything smelled so mouth-watering, and the presentation was tempting you to devour everything in on sitting.

"Thanks for the food!" As soon as he placed the last dish onto the table, you immediately picked up your utensils. You could not hold yourself back when face with good home-cooked food, good home-cooked food made by an equally good-looking guy.

Minho sat down beside you—he usually sat across from you which kept a nice distance between the two of you—he was very close today. Asked he, "How is it? Good?"

You didn't hold back on your praises, "God, why didn't you cook sooner? This is actual heaven~!"

He simply smiled in a humble manner. Your face was a little puffed up when you eat, which he found quite endearing. Watching you stuffed your entire face with rice, sweet and sour ribs, and eggrolls. Flattered by how much you were enjoying it, yet concerned from how fast you were eating.

"Slow down, wouldn't want you to choke." He gazed at you as he advised.

"Unless you like it like that." Immediately, you started coughing profusely. A grain of rice flew up to your nose, making everything worse the longer it stayed stuck up there.

Minho patted your back, "Woah, are you alright?" Uh, obviously no?! You were coughing out rice over here, how could you even be remotely okay? And how did he expect you to be okay after that suggestive comment he just made? This guy was unbelievable. The smile laced with deviousness, as if he was silently planning something that would catch you off guard—which certainly did a minute ago.

He picked up a single rib and ate it with his chopsticks, he probably mind getting his hands dirty from that sticky sauce he used. How could Minho looked so graceful while eating while you were here devouring everything down like a fucking caveman. Work on your image a bit, would you? Especially when you were living with someone that wouldn't use their hands to eat ribs.

"Have you been talking to Jisung recently?" Minho suddenly questioned, setting down his bowl as to show respect.

You turned to him, confusion sitting on your shoulders and your heart sinking with a bit of guilt. By any chance, did he overheard your conversations? "Yeah, I have." Continued by another question, "What? Are you two not talking?"

Minho's eyes was bigger than you expected, now seeing him a bit closer from your distance from each other. It curved in a very pretty way, and glistened upon every reflections of his soul. You couldn't help, couldn't help but get a little sad every-time you gazed into his eyes, or when they would unknowingly stared back at you. He looked at you, as if through his eyes saw you as the most precious person to exist in the short timespan that was the human life.

"He haven't been answering my texts and calls, I don't know if he's upset with me or something?" Minho sighed, "Can you...just ask him for me?"

In a bit of hesitation, "Would it be a bit rude for an outsider to chime in? Whatever it is you and Jisung are going through, it's best if you two worked it out together...privately." You told, trying to offer other solutions.

Minho let out a tired breath, "I don't know, I'm not sure what I did wrong that made him upset with me, that's what I'm most worried about."

You patted his back, "Just talk it out with him, communication is key!" How ironic, you could hardly hold a conversation with him, and now you were here giving out communication advise? Unreliable source. You knew you shouldn't interfere with whatever beef Jisung and Minho was having between each other, but you were making it seem like you wouldn't ask Jisung for details. Or Jisung would tell you himself from how much he like to rant to you.

Minho flashed a genuine smile towards you, "Thanks, I owe you one!"

Your heart skipped a beat, just one enough for your whole system to go the very bit haywire. You were finally making some good progress with Minho, and his entire intimidating and remote façade all came crashing down when he smiled. Keep up the good work!

“Are you and Minho back on speaking terms yet?” The other line went quiet for a few seconds, you heard a sigh being let out.

Jisung replied with a question, “He told you?”

Fuck, your nosy tendencies were acting up again, it slipped out of you like a natural instinct. “No—um, yeah he did but I don’t know the details or anything! He was just wondering if you were mad at him or something since you stop contacting him.” You went on to explain, trying to tell Jisung that you weren’t intending to be impolite and simply wanted to help your friend out.

The other giggled at your tone of voice, of how freaked out he got you. You acted as if the people you were working for to take down started suspecting you to be a double agent, but unlike those action films, you were terrible at hiding the truth.

“My girlfriend don’t like the fact that I’m still friends with my exes, so she wiped out their contacts from my phone.” The whole problem was finally solved as the explanation came out.

Wait, one thing. “Minho is your ex?!” You exclaimed at the sudden realization.

Jisung was absolutely enjoying this from the other line, “What? You want him?” He teased.

Your face went red, denying the question thrown at you. This whole time, this was the relationship your housemate has with your best friend? And he had never cared to tell you about anything regarding this romance he once had? All these people do was lie. Struggling through your words, you outwardly rejected the idea. “No—! No– I don’t! I—!”

Jisung interrupted, “It’s fine, he’s all yours.”

You tried denying, “No, I don’t want him—!” Quickly being cut of by Jisung once more.

“And he’s a really great kisser—”

“Jisung, shut the fuck up!” You hanged up in embarrassment, throwing your phone away in a state of panic. Why would he tell you that? As if you needed to be more careful around Minho now that you knew these things about him. God, how did he expect you to continue living with this knowledge? Unlike Jisung, you saw Minho everyday of the week.

The door to your bedroom suddenly opened, “Are you okay? I heard a thud.” Minho was still in his work attire, a tad bit sweaty from the heated summer air, the first two buttons of his shirt were left undone. Solely from the condition of his appearance was in, you were mentally restraining yourself.

“Did you just came back?” You asked, begging that he didn’t heard your conversation with Jisung on the phone a few minutes ago.

He replied shortly, “Yeah, I’ll go shower now so we can eat.” Closing your door as he left without another word, left silently with knowing what you said earlier. He heard enough of your phone call, you were too caught up with talking that you didn’t hear the front door open. Minho was halfway across the hall to his room when he heard you shouted, his name fell out from your mouth as clear as day.

Oh, Jisung never told you that he and Minho were a thing? Now it was kind of awkward for the both of you. But if you wanted him, he wanted you too. He saw the way you would look at him, stealing glances from across the table. He was a very attractive guy, you were sure he wholeheartedly knew this, and he used it to his advantage.

Coming out of a cold shower, his hair was wet and dripping water down his back and shoulders, but at least have some respect for you by covering up his entire bare torso. At the dinner table? Was he going to be half-naked for the whole duration of dinner? He wanted you dead, you boldly claimed.

“So…how was work?” You opened up a topic, hoping he would start talking to fill the silence that was ongoing between the two of you.

Minho let out a chuckle, "Not fun." Handing you a pair of chopsticks and a ceramic bowl. That was understandable, he did looked quite worn out coming home after work.

"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking." You raised a question into his occupation.

He began picking up food from the many plates into his bowl, the wondrous scent controlled his chopsticks faster than his mind. Minho answered while pouring the meat broth over his rice, "I'm an accountant."

An accountant? Was that a code word for sex workers? No one in their right mind would go into accounting. Minho out of all people, worked as an accountant? You had no negative comments on his intelligences, or his work ethics. But accounting sounded so boring for someone as interesting as Minho, you thought what he said was a joke of some sort. Maybe he had a side hustle doing unconventional and dirty jobs.

"It's not fun, but I got bills to pay." Minho joked to lighten up the mood, filling in the empty pauses with yours and his joyful laughs.

He shook his head in a subtle yet prominent dissappointment, smiling to hide his actual emotion on his feeling of unfulfillment. "I wish I became a singer back then."

What he said piqued your interest, you looked up at him with a spark of excitement. Straight into his eyes, you asked. "You sing?"

His vocals was almost professional singer level, for a first in the short timespan of knowing him, you saw such happiness on his face. Holding the microphone as he sang you a love song, the amount of money you spent on that karaoke machine paid off. Minho wasn't wrong or thought too highly of himself when he said he should had became a singer, you would have said the same thing if you knew him sooner. And if he did, you would support him with your all.

The atmosphere got a bit hotter and hotter as the night went on, with alcohol entering the table as an uninvited guest. When a sensual song came on, the mood totally changed for better or worse. His loose t-shirt was showing some skin, it was too a little short as it was showing peeks of his toned stomach underneath. Your mind was going places, wether it was because of the alcohol getting you tipsy or it was your inner desires for intimacy.

Minho did not broke eyes-contact with you, in a hushed voice, stating that you were the only beauty he would keep in his sight tonight. Gently holding your hand in his, he placed it on his chest. Did you feel it? Under the warm and shaking palm of yours. His heart beating at a tiny bit quicker pace than usual, beating for you with all of these temptations in him.

"Minho, I should go to bed now, it's getting awfully late." You told, diverting away in a flustered mess. Yet, despite your attempt at diluting the air, Minho persuasion didn't seem to back down. Too heated, too close as you could now smell his liquor-laced breath.

Eyes half-lidded which made his desires just the more prominent, he was serious with no control. Before your lips could touch one another, a loud vibration emerged abruptly that pulled both of you out of that drunken trance.

Blindly grabbing for your phone, your eyelids were giving up as each minute continued to pass by. You didn't look at the contact name, the alcohol was taking over your system like a pernicious poison. A voice echoed out from your phone speaker, it took you a few seconds to register the other line’s speaking and its distinct frequency.

“Where is your report?! [Y/N], you are driving me crazy with your constant delays!” They roared at you, annoyed and angered.

You got off from your place on the couch, walking away with your phone in hand as you used your last few excuses to save yourself. “Seungmin, it’s not really a good time right now, can I call you back?”

Seeing you caught up with work on the line, he figured he would clean up this mess you two made on the coffee table for you. For a moment, he thought you felt it too. He might had read the room wrong, but the way you tried to avert from the situation felt almost like a reassurance for him. As if you wanted to go further with him, go little deeper, but you were unsure if he was onboard as well. He thought of apologizing, after you sober up more than the state you were in at the moment.

You swore, you couldn't remember anything from the night before. Went to bed at nearly one in the morning, woke up head-empty and half of the blankets and pillows were off your bed. Come on, you could confidently say that you did not exceed your limit. Yet as shown this morning, you had a rough night yesterday with the leftover liquor running through your veins.

You were absolutely dumb-founded when he said he was sorry for what happened last night, as if you remembered everything clearly to its very details. Let's see, you ate dinner, you talked, sang a couple songs out of boredom you assumed, then it all when foggy after that.

"What are you on about? I have no idea of whatever the hell you are apologizing for." Telling him straight up, you could not register anything he was saying to make any sense.

Frustrated, and a bit taken over by the shame from yesterday. "No, it's okay, you're better off not knowing anyway. Sorry for making a scene so early in the morning."

Minho finished the few last sips of his Americano, grabbing his laptop bag from under the dining table in a hurry. "I have to go now, see you again at six." He bid goodbye at the front door.

Before he go for the next ten hours, you told him tonight's plan. "I have a few friends over tonight, if you don't mind their companies."

"How many are coming?" Minho asked.

You tilted your head as you tried to remind yourself of the size of your party, maybe even the identities of your guests as well. "Just three. Jisung is going to be there too, if you want to see him."

You could forget anything, anything that you deemed important. But one thing that you couldn't seem to shake off your mind, as it has been bugging you ever since you knew of it, was the bygone romance Minho had with your best friend—happened to be Jisung. Now that you were non-actively trying to persue the guy, it left a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Though Jisung had affirmed that the past was in the past, you could court his ex-boyfriend all you want.

Minho looked down, "We'll talk later, okay? I'm late for work." Leaving things unfinished between you, he closed the door as he left.

You didn't work until around noon, you could work from home if you wanted, yet you still came into the office everyday since things moved faster with you being physically there. But after that call from Seungmin—head of your department, you were already considered brave for the mere thought of showing up. Despite how nice Seungmin actually was, his anger was incomparable to anything you had ever seen.

After your short shift, you went back home to get things prepare. On the way home, you had already picked up a few ingredients. Said ingredients were just a six-pack of cold beers and Gochujang sauce for the beef. The others wouldn't come for another hour, for the time being, you would have to get everything ready by yourself.

Pray to god that the table grill was still working today since you haven't brought it out for a good few years now, it was collecting dust in the very far back of your cupboard. The hangout had been planned for a little while already, you got most of the things a day or two prior.

Was Minho going to join you? His expression carried a bit of hesitation when you asked this morning, though you would be happy to have him if he did changed his mind. The more the merrier!

Hyunjin and Jisung came over just a tiny bit earlier than Felix, guessed he was caught up with some baking for desert. You and your friends were all gathered up together at the dining table, it felt crowded by how small of a space you had to eat for four people. Happy that Hyunjin’s beer wasn’t on the floor since it was standing so confidently at the edge.

“When is Minho coming home?” Jisung suddenly turned to you.

“I don’t know, usually he would be back by now.” You shrugged, just now noticing today’s abnormalities. Maybe something came up at the office, or he had something else he needed to do beside from work matter. Whatever it was, you just hoped he would get home safety.

Speak of the devil, not even ten minutes had passed and the front door softly rang of clicking keys. You came to open the door for Minho, meeting his slightly stunned expression. His glossy tired eyes under the dirty frames of his glasses gazed back at you, his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead as if he ran his way home. God, he looked rough, but so strangely enticing at the same time.

"Hey, we were just talking about you!" You beamed.

"Sorry, I'm late. My digital files got corrupted, so I had to get I.T to check that bitch out." Minho sighed deeply, you could imagine how long it took to resolve it purely from how worn out he presented.

The others greeted him at the dining table, getting a stool for him to sit since you were out of chairs. Minho was sandwiched between you and Hyunjin, one he knew, one he didn’t. He felt the tiniest bit uncomfortable sitting in such a tight spot, especially when yours and his thighs were rubbing against each other. He didn’t mind it too much, he liked you anyways.

“Ah, Minho! This is Hyunjin, and that’s Felix, they’re my college friends.” You introduced. Though he was a year older, they treated him with a casual formality. Felt more like meeting old friends than new people, your group broke the ice a lot quicker than he had previously expected. Soon you all were drinking and chatting, learning a bit too much about each other for the first meeting.

Felix tapped out, “No more, I’m driving tonight.” With Jisung following along as most had already decided to stop drinking, including you.

You placed your hand on the shoulder of the person next to you, “Are you still going? Damn, you must know how to handle your liquor.”

Minho stared back at you as you spoke to him, his eyes half-lidded like the night before. The first few buttons were unfastened, his bare and defined chest laid underneath the thin fabric. A sheer cast of sweat made his body glistened by the overhead light, his glasses was slowly slipping off his nose bridge which reflected the sweat even more than it should have. His face was flushed red and pink everywhere, flushed from a love confession of a drunken mind. Any minute now, he might just be making out with you.

His heart and guts was burning up with these carnal desires, if your friends weren't here, you could bet he would be fucking your brains out like how you so desperately wanted him to. He wanted you just as much, so shamelessly wanted you.

Minho leaned in suddenly, his lips and hot intoxicated breath lingered your ears. Whispered gently with his mellow, sleepy tone of voice, "When are they leaving?"

“We’re just going to have some tea and brownies, they’ll be on their way soon. Why do you ask?” You returned, asking in with a bit of hesitation in the back of you mind. Could it be he was overloaded enough, or did he not like your friends? You doubted the second one, since they had so much fun together. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

He didn’t further elaborate, ending the subject then and there with no other explanation. His intentions were unclear, as if he was hiding something from you but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Hopefully not something shady, or would leave you with a bad image of Minho. Keep it simple, he was probably tired and he needed a bit more peace and quiet. And he couldn't get any peace and quiet if your friends were here, right?

You wanted him to take off his shirt, take every single piece of fabric on his body off, let you admire all of his grace and beauty. Occupied with drooling over your housemate, the teapot seemed to had slipped your mind.

"Fuck!" Yelped you, the heat of the hot tea finally burned your skin.

Hearing pain from your voice, Minho and the others were already there to aid you. Especially Minho, he grabbed your hand into his as soon as he noticed. Luckily for you, the injury was minor and running it through cool water was good enough.

Minho really has you in a chokehold, metaphorically speaking obviously—unless. If you two did become a thing, would it be a little awkward? Maybe not for Jisung, but you were unsure of how or what to think in a situation like this. Though, despite how much you might try to push the idea away due to having quite a lot of repect for your best friend, you couldn't help yourself.

Seduction existed in his eyes and body language, it was subtle yet effective. An absolute disaster that the two of you also lived together, which pumped you up with an amount of hormone that a high-school student would have.

The way he dressed may be ordinary, office worker fashion. His shoulders flexing in his fitted button-up, straight dress pant hugging his thighs. His thick frame glasses further accentuated his winsome features. There was no exaggeration that he, for a definite, has a lot of admirers from work. You too, would be weak on your knees if Minho was your colleague.

It was around eight o’ clock by the time you finished up, which wasn’t late—at least to your definition—but tomorrow was still a work day. Especially for Hyunjin, who was flying out of the country for a business trip, of which it was crucial for him to leave early morning for his flight.

“I’m catching a cab home.” Jisung answered when you asked him how he was going to get home without a car, since the other two already left on their separate ways.

“No, I’ll drive you home.” You offered kindly.

“You drank a lot tonight, you really shouldn’t be driving, [Y/N].” Jisung denied, pointing out the slight alcoholic haze you were in. He wasn’t wrong, you were a literally beast with the bottle. However, you were awake enough to still talk normally and sort of think, like being half asleep.

Reassuring you that he would be fine on his own, and that he would be sure to text you when he arrived at his place. You knew Jisung for too long for you to be worried about him on trivial things, it simply felt like the right thing or a common habitual saying you had going on. You just wanted to take extra precautions since you both had been drinking the whole night, and there were quite a lot of problems existing because of it.

"Don't worry about me too much," Jisung soothed you once more. However he had no regards for what a sentimental moment that was happening between the two of you, immediately back to his ways of joking to dilute the air. "You should be worrying about if Minho can keep his dick in his pants near you."

You smacked him on his shoulder, "Shut up, he's right over there!"

"I mean...I see the way y'all look at each other, we all know, [Y/N]." He commented, giving you a playful look. You wanted to murder Jisung, and you would make it look like an accident too. Were you being that obvious about your feelings? But the way Minho acted around you didn't help too!

Jisung waved goodbye to you and to Minho—who was in the kitchen, washing up dishes and shot glasses. "I'll see you on Saturday for coffee if you can even get out of bed, bye!"

Nodding, as you watched him walk away from your apartment to the main elevator, realization hit later than expected. You yelled out in annoyance but Jisung would definitely laughed it off and ignore you. "Hey, we're not fucking!"

You had to stay up to finish a few reports and lone documents, so that meant you wouldn't be able to see Minho during his morning coffee. Coming over to offer another hand in cleaning up, it wasn't a big mess but was a mess nonetheless. You might take care of everything for Minho to get some well-deserved rest that he has been needing.

Minho turned around as he felt a tap on his shoulder, "Let me take it from here, you should be getting ready for bed by now."

"No, I'll help." Minho single-mindedly refused your offer. "And too, I can't sleep with this raging boner you gave me."

Too sudden, too out of nowhere, your neck snapped to him when you heard him said those words. His expression was neutral, as natural as if he had said and had done nothing wrong. Still washing dishes and bowls, scrubbing and rinsing like he has been doing the same thing for years. Did he heard himself at least, or was it a thought that went loose.

"Oh, sorry." What the fuck were you supposed to reply to that? Thank you? Was that a compliment in disguise of some sort? Feuling the fire even more, the desires becoming stronger and intense, he had agreed to throw away his principles already.

Minho inched closer to you, his eyes on yours as he asked nicely for attention. "If I tell you that I want to fuck you right here right now, would you be mad?"

Face flushed, hot as when you would place your hand on your tea cup to check the temperature. He was evil, disregarding your state of mental stability by saying things of the same kind so out of pocket. He, for a fact, waited for the right time to confess his sins. The kettle was boiling all night, the heat and steams were his deepest thoughts.

You turned off the sink, your hands cool and wet and smell of dish soap from the water. For a split moment, you were solely looking at each other, begging either one to make a move. Minho leaned in towards your direction, his bare forearms brushed gently against yours. The alcohol in both of your bodies made the moment all the more intimate, slowly yet steadily closing your distance between each other, breaking down the wall of sexual tension you had unconsciously built that stood with all its might.

The faint taste of his strawberry chapstick on your tongue, his lips was a little sticky but so soft that you didn’t quite mind. There was no way of stopping him, as you too, did not want to stop the thrill ride that was ongoing. Letting out heavy breaths as he sucked dark red marks onto your skin, lips painting your blank canvas. May he be the only alcohol you would get drunk on, let you drink him up like your sorrows and distress.

“Oh, Minho.” You breathed, moaning out his name as his hands rushing to take off your pants. Hot tongue making a line on your stomach down to your sex, freely as his mouth worked on you like how you dearly enjoyed his food. Both your legs resting on his broad shoulders just did nothing but helped spread you wider.

Your sweet voice singing out to encourage him, using his tongue in all directions that favoured you. Stomach knotting with alcohol and dinner and a heaven he had created for you, coming onto his lips, a result of prolonged temptations.

Every fabric that touched yours and his bodies that day were all scattered on the floor by second round. Never even seen your best friend naked, and here you were admiring his ex-boyfriend’s entire unclothed figure with no ounce of shame left in yourself. You could not keep your hands away from him, so greedily touching him in different places.

Neither could wait any longer, deciding to lay each other’s pride out on the dining table. Minho placed his lips on yours, closing his eyes yet still seeing the vivid image of you in his dark mind. With each passing second, his cock making its way into the very depths of you. You hugged him quite tightly, as if you haven’t scored anyone in a while.

Your eyes told him everything he needed to know, you body twitching and squirming under his embrace, the silent language that told him every one of your secrets. Thrusting faster and harder, wanting to hear you make some more music for his aching soul. Minho grabbed your legs, pushing them against your torso as his cock went deeper into you. You could barely keep your eyes open, or could you stay present with him. This pleasure felt like a dream, a dream that softly pulled you in.

Minho kissed your lips once again, “Baby, don’t sleep on me, I’m not done with you just yet.”

But as much confidence that he may has in him, he was nearing his high and coming apart for you along the way. Minho’s vocals were heavenly when he sang for you, and were just as heavenly when he came into you. He kept going despite being out of breath and tired for you, he started something and he was going to finish it.

Second time felt much more powerful than the first, almost like he gave his all. You could feel his seeds dripping out from inside of you, onto the dining table and even the chairs. Dirtying everything all over again, now you had more cleaning to add onto your list. Guessed neither of you were going to get any sleep tonight.

[linos-luna]

Can you make a yandere lee know sadist story?

Pretty please............

Bruh there's another request in my inbox asking for a masochist Lino... y'all crazy lol. but who am I to judge? 😭

Ask and you shall receive...

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His Urges ❣️🔪

Yandere!Sadist!Minho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere!, Smut, MDNI, biting, sadism, dub con, crying, fear kink, spanking, toxic relationship,

——————————————————— 🔪

It was an incredibly strong urge and for a while he did his best to suppress it but lately it's been difficult. You were just so cute and innocent!

You already knew your boyfriend to be quite possessive and maybe a tad bit controlling but maybe that was normal right? I mean he says he loves you. He always talks about how you're his soulmate and how he wants to shield you from the cruel world. You don't even have to work as he promised to take care of you. Sure he could be a little e rough at times but... not like this...

It was an innocent little date night. After a homemade dinner, you sat with him on the couch, leaning your head on his shoulder as Netflix played. Minho wasn't paying too much to the movie and was massaging your hand. He rubbed your fingers, loving how delicate they looked: just so perfect...

Slowly, he started to squeeze your fingers together. It wasn't too hard at first but progressively got harder.

You didn't think much of it at first but it slowly got more and more painful.

"M-Minnie...?" You asked a bit confused while looking at him, trying to pull away.

Minho didn't answer, instead squeezing even harder as he stared at your hand. It was as if he was lost in the moment.

"Minho! You're hurting me!"

Your sudden yell startled him and he immediately let go.

"W-why'd you do that??"

"I-I'm sorry, Kitten..." he said bluntly. "I didn't even realize... what was happening there..." He paused while looking at your eyes that were tearing up. Sure, he felt a little bad for seeing you cry but at the same time... not? In the moment, he felt quite excited actually and his heart was racing.

You only frowned while rubbing your hand and stood up. "I-I think I should go to bed now..."

"No wait!" Minho suddenly grabbed you by the wrist and kept you in place.

"P-Please let go..."

"No!" He yelled suddenly while standing up, scaring you quite a bit. "Hold on, Kitten."

"M-Minnie.... I-I just wanna go to bed is all..." you stuttered as he squeezed your wrist hard.

"Don't leave yet, our date isn't finished!" He said, sounding frustrated. "Please."

You stopped pulling and looked at him with tears rolling down your cheeks. He wiped away your tears with his other hand and sighed. "I'm sorry, pretty girl... I couldn't help it..."

"C-Couldn't help what..."

He was quiet, only looking at your wrist that he was still holding.

"Hurting me....?"

He nodded.

"Y-You like... Hurting me...?" you asked, getting concerned.

"... Yes..." he admitted, which had you surprised.

"It's sick... isn't it?" He had an unnerving chuckle that made you want to back away. "Sit down, Kitty."

"M-Minnie..."

"Don't be like this." He shook his head and sat down, pulling you by the wrist to sit next to him. "only 20 more minutes of the movie."

He could care less about the movie at this point. He just wanted you to stay here with him. He just wants to hold you.

After a moment of hesitation, you sat back down. Perhaps he just drank too much wine earlier... no way he was serious... At least that's what you told yourself.

~~~~~~

As the movie continued, Minho rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. You were finally able to relax a bit and he would even give you gentle kisses on the cheek, whispering little praises in your ear. By the end of the movie, he was kissing your lips and carried you to the bedroom. Once he sat you on the bed, it got a little more heated as he gave more passionate kisses, using his tongue to dominate. You enjoyed it as he felt around under your shirt and kissed down you neck... that is, until he started squeezing your waist harshly and nipping at your neck. You moaned a bit, not exactly in pleasure, but in pain. He took that as a sign to keep going as he bit harder along your neck, finally making you cry out and try pushing him away.

"Minnie!" you gasped as he pushed you to your back and smirked down at you while pulling your hair.

"What's wrong, Kitten?" he chuckled. "can''t handle a little pain? you're so cute...."

"Stop it!"

"-Or what?!" he replied with a devious smile as he suddenly grabbed your jaw. "What are you gonna do about it, Kitten?"

You only looked at him in fear. He was right, what were you gonna do? you were pinned.

"That's what I thought." He chuckled while kissing down your neck.

More tears rolled down your cheeks as he lifted your shirt and left kisses on your bare breasts. The kisses were quite soft compared to the way his nails were digging into your waist. You tried stopping him by grabbing his hands but Minho seemed to find your struggle funny and keep going while sucking at your breast.

You attempted to grab him by the head before you were suddenly grabbed by both wrists and pinned.

"You like this huh?"

"No I don't!" you yelled back.

"No I think you like playing these little games." He chuckled. It's okay, kitten, I'll Keep playing with you. I'm not done. Behave for me, will you?"

~~~

That was only the beginning. Minho found some sort of sick pleasure from hurting you. And you? Well you just took it. There was no way out. You tried so many times but you were always caught and the punishments only got worse.

You loved him still but not like this. He said he couldn't't control it but you thought that was bullshit. There's no way...

The sex was rough, full of biting and hair pulling. He had no limits, in fact he liked seeing that scared look on your face. It turned him on so much and as time went on, he got more and more... Sadistic.

You were practically screaming as he railed you into the bed. After a long day at work, he had decided to fuck all his frustration into you.

Originally, he promised to not be so rough but that was a lie. Admittedly, it was a little pleasurable at first but then it became too much. Third round and he still had just as much energy from when you first started.

"Min- Min- Min-!" you whimpered as your face was pressed into the sheets. "T-Too Much!" it was obvious that you were very overstimulated.

"C'mon, Kitten..." he panted. One more time." He chuckled before pulling you up by the hair, making you scream. "one more time for me..."

It's not like you had much of a choice so again you came... for the third time.

You were weak and exhausted, nearly limp under him as he held you by the hair. once he was fully satisfied, Minho pulled out and laid you on your back.

"You're such a good kitten..." he said softly while kissing your forehead. "I love you so much..."

~~~~~~

This wasn't getting any better. Nearly everyday he'd be rough with you. It left you with bruised that you often had to cover - if he even let you out. at all. You wanted to leave but he catches you every time and in a way... you feel bad. Minho wasn't a bad person... right? He just had these urges. It's not like he'd kill you or hurt you on purpose right? It was delusional thinking and you knew it. He needed help. This pleasure he got from your pain was just sadistic.

He'd spank you at random or randomly pull your hair. He'd squeeze your hand as a warning or pinch your sensitive thighs. It brought him pleasure. In the moment, it brought him so much pleasure... He knows its wrong... But he can't help it...

So here you were, sprawled across his lap, taking what had to be your 12th spank to your bare ass. It was red snd sore, tears stained your cheeks.

"Is my kitty gonna listen now?" he asked while rubbing the reddened skin.

"Y-Yes!" you whimpered.

"Good girl. Now back on your knees." he said with a smile before pushing you to the floor. "You're going to listen now, right?"

You nodded, only to get slapped.

"What?!"

"Y-yes! I-I'll listen!" you cried out.

"See Kitty, its that simple..." Minho rubbed your cheek.

"I-I'm sorry...."

"You should be." He grunted. "You scared me! I had no idea where you were! I thought we were soulmates, y/n. Why would you leave?"

I'm sorry..." you repeated as tears formed again.

"I know you are, Kitten..." He said while rubbing your cheek. "You still love me?"

" Yes..."

As odd as it was, you still did so it wasn't a lie...

Minho was pretty satisfied with that answer and helped you up so you could lay in bed.

After tucking you in, Minho laid next to you and sighed while gently rubbing your cheek.

"I'm sorry, Kitten...." he whispered while looking at you, seemingly feeling some shame. "I wish... I wish I could control it... I... I really do love you..." he said with a genuine tear of guilt running down his cheek. "I-I hope you can forgive me..."

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You're not supposed to feel bad for him... but he is self aware so...