#sub lee know

Bang Chan - Service Sub. He’ll do anything to keep you satisfied. will follow your orders. 100% a munch. Loves praise. Definitely starts overthinking that you’re disappointed. Verbal reassurance + warm bath + cuddles. Needs to be told over and over that he did well and that you’re proud of him. Loves lying with his head in your lap while you play with his hair.

Lee Know - Bratty sub.  Loves testing your patience. Rolls his eyes mid command to get a rise out of you. Degrade him(but also praise him). Melts when you force him to say sorry and punish him<3. Acts like he doesn’t need special aftercare, but melts if you clean him up and rub his back. Likes when you quietly hold him until he relaxes.

Changbin - Needy princess. Needs 24/7 attention. Gets pouty when you don’t cater to him every waking second. Loves praise, no matter how much you praise him he always gets super shy :(. Wants every ounce of your focus after, just as much as during. Loves when you shower him in praise, cuddle him, and feed him snacks. 

Hyunjin - pillow prince. Loves your attention. Lives for long kisses. Melts when you worship his body.  Gets so, so whiny when you stop, but gets so shy when you make him beg :( <3 Needs you to kiss all over his face, pet his hair, and worship him even after the scene ends. Loves soft words and constant touch until he drifts off.

Han - “Bratty” sub. He tries to act bratty to get a rise out of you, but quickly turns into mush when you confront him about it. Goes from “make me” to moaning your name in seconds <3. Praise addict. Gets embarrassed about how needy he got, so he loves when you joke with him a little to lighten the mood. Lots of praise, forehead kisses, and cuddles.

Felix - Sweetest sub. He is such an angel. Does whatever you say without hesitation. His ears turn pink at praise(but he also likes to be degraded…!) He definitely is a crier. Oral fixation… Wrap him in blankets, cuddle chest-to-chest, and whisper soft praises until he stops crying. Likes when you rub his back or hold his hand tight so he feels safe. <3

Seungmin - bratty pup sub. Teases and mocks you. He’s so bratty until you make him repeat himself :(. Loves to be called “dumb pup/puppy” and “good boy”(when he listens). Just a little bit of pet play<3 He won’t ask for it, but he loves when you wipe him down, put clothes on him, and hold him close. He gets shy about eye contact, so he likes when you hum or talk softly while petting his hair.

This morning had been…rough, to say the least.

It’s very rare for you and your boyfriend, Minho, to have the same days off. He’s an idol, and you’re climbing the ladder at your company, which meant long hours and overtime more often than you’d like. No amount of insistence (and harassment) from Minho could get you to quit. You know he could support you, and you know he wouldn’t mind, but you like that independence. Plus, what would you do all day, if you quit your job? You’re pretty sure you’d get pretty sick of twiddling your thumbs and cleaning all the time, and so you continue to go to work.

The two of you had spent the night together, a rare night off for him in the throes of the new comeback, but you had warned him when he came over that you had work in the morning. He had pouted dramatically, tried three separate times to turn off your alarms on your phone without you noticing, and had only given up when your exasperated sighs stopped being playful and started being real.

Of course, he had somehow immediately forgotten about this when he woke up to you shifting out of bed this morning. Your alarm wasn’t loud, but your warmth was immediately missed, and he didn’t even really let you get out of bed at all. As you got halfway to standing, he pounced, dragging you back into bed with him.

“Min, what are you-”

“Don’ go,” he murmurs, face squished right between you shoulder blades, voice muffled by your skin, “You’re warm, so you stay.”

His words are a bit slurred, morning voice like gravel in his throat, and it makes you consider actually staying for a moment. He had a full day off today (courtesy of Chan, bless him), but you had to work. You, of course, planned to request a half day and come home early, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Min.”

You wiggle in his hold, but he just pulls you in tighter, grumbling behind you. You snort, rolling your eyes.

“Min. Minnie. Minho, c’mon.”

Even in his groggy state, he’s got some muscle over you, and resisting is starting to feel futile.

“Brat.” You huff, using all of your strength to pry yourself free.

You make sure to readjust the blanket so he’s fully covered, and wow - he’s really pulling out all the stops today. He’s giving you his biggest puppy dog eyes, and very clearly faking a shiver to make you feel guilty. His bottom lip is jutted out, and he’s huffing and puffing.

“Can’t believe big bad Minho is throwing a temper tantrum,” you say, voice low and teasing, “I’ll be home before you know it, jagi.”

You reach over to ruffle his hair and you’re pretty sure if he could purr, he would’ve. He leans into your brief touch, making a discontent sound when you pull away.

“Go back to bed. I’ll be home later, okay? Text me if there’s an emergency.”

You’re not quite sure what he tries to say back, but it sounds vaguely like “fuck you” and “I love you” all at once. You can’t help the grin that overtakes your face, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you, too.”

– – –

You make it maybe a couple of hours into work before your phone buzzes on your desk. You glance at it, but keep working. You’re on a roll with this report, and the sooner you’re done, the sooner you get to be home with Minho. So whoever it is will just have to wait.

…Is what you would have said, if it didn’t buzz not once, not twice, but three more times in the next ten minutes. You stop typing, grabbing at the cursed thing to make it shut up. When you see who it is, you realize you really should’ve known it would be him, especially after the attitude he gave you this morning.

You consider muting your phone now, but you do feel a bit bad shutting him out. What if it was actually an emergency, and he needed you? Well. The chances were very, very slim, but you leave your phone on vibrate, anyways. You suppose your surprise early return later will make up for the few more hours he’ll have to live without you. 

You make it a couple more hours before your phone is buzzing again, just as insistent as before. You’ve got maybe three more things to finish up at this point, and your boss approved your half day, so you’re set to be home in maybe an hour or two. And of course, Minho’s sixth sense is probably tingling, and he can somehow sense that you’re getting antsy here, ready to be done and be home with him. You swear he can read your mind sometimes - he claims you’re just “easy to read”, but when you’re all the way at work (or when he’s across the globe) he always somehow knows exactly what’s plaguing your thoughts.

So you flip your phone open, expecting another bratty text about how you’re being so cruel by leaving him home all alone and oh. You’re greeted with something far, far better. Or worse, in terms of getting your work done.

The first image is just a tease, him with his shirt rolled up past his chest and his sleep pants pulled low. There’s the hint of his happy trail peeking out, and he’s got one hand under the waistband, pressed to his cock. He’s splayed across the bed still - your bed - and the smirk he’s giving the camera lets you know that he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

The second photo is just as teasing. He’s in his boxers now, sleep pants tossed somewhere out of frame, same hand cupping his erection through the flimsy fabric. It’s stretched tight around his cock, and there’s a little wet patch where he’s clearly leaking. He has the pointer and ring fingers of his free hand in his mouth, tongue teasingly peeking out between the two. His eyes are lidded now, and the light flush to his ears gives away just how aroused he is.

Your fingers itch to type out a response, to remind him that you’ll be home later and that he should be good, but you freeze when you realize that’s exactly what he wants you to do. He wants you to be mad, to throw a fit that he’s touching himself without you. Texting back will only add fuel to the fire. So instead, you don’t even deign him with a response. You simply go back to work, leaving him on read, because all attention is good attention for a brat like him. There’s nothing worse to him when he’s like this than being ignored.

You make it maybe 30 minutes before he’s texting again, this time a series of images. You don’t even look this time. You’ve barely got anything left to do on this report, and your brat of a boyfriend isn’t going to distract you. You know when you show up early today, early afternoon rather than your usual 6 o’clock, he’s going to think he’s won. You press your thighs together at the thought of what you’re going to do to him when you do get home.

Just as you’re packing up, maybe 20 minutes after his last text, your phone buzzes one final time. You can’t help but check, even though you know you shouldn’t.

A video? Now? If you actually had to work, it wouldn’t make sense for him to be sending a video. You can check a text, but when would you have time to watch a video? Checking the clock, you realize that right now would normally be right when your lunch break was starting. Ah. As always, Minho is steps ahead of you, it seems.

You’ve never made the walk to your car faster, almost a jog from how fast you’re walking. You pass one of your coworkers, who gives you an odd look, but right now, you couldn’t care less. Not when there’s a Minho at home, waiting to be put in his place like he deserves.

You slide into the driver’s seat of your car and pull up the texts you’ve missed so far. Photos of Minho getting himself off in various positions on your bed have you clenching involuntarily, but it’s the video that peaks your interest the most. The preview is a blur, so there’s no hint as to what he’s doing. You click the volume up, looking out the window to make sure the parking garage is still empty around you.

It starts with Minho fumbling with the camera, struggling to prop it up against the headboard. When he does come into the frame for a moment, you see that he’s fully nude now, cock coated in what seems to be a mix of his precum and lube. The phone falls again, and he whines, the sound high and drawn out. Shit, he doesn’t usually start whimpering like that until his third orgasm. You wonder briefly how many times he’s made himself cum.

“C-can’t-fuck! Can’t get this god damn phone to stay up,” he pants out as he comes back into frame, phone seemingly finally steady, “But I knew-hngh-you’d want to see me, right? You want to see me make a mess all over your bed?”

There he is, in all his glory, and you realize that he’s got your pillow pressed between his legs, cock leaking hot and heavy onto it. His hips are grinding down into it like he can’t help it, and when his tip catches the pillowcase, his eyes roll into the back of his head, an obscene sound falling out of his mouth. It’s pornographic, watching him hump your pillow like a dog, eyes glossy and face flushed red.

“Respond, damn it!” He whines, eyes teary and hips grinding down even harder.

“Don’t you want me? You should just-ha-quit that stupid job ‘nd come home ‘nd-ahn! C-come home ‘n fuck me-fuck me!”

His hands reach down to grip at the pillow, pulling it up to give himself even more friction. He really looks pathetic now, back arching and wanton moans echoing throughout the room. His cock is so red it looks like it hurts, but he doesn’t stop. It almost seems like he can’t stop, even as a tear rolls down his cheek.

“D-do you want me to beg? Fine,” he snarls, still trying to sound in control, “I can beg. Come home, jagi. I need you, need you so fucking-hngh-shoooo fucking bad, need you. Your hands, your touch, your mouth - need it on me now.”

There’s a pause, as his hips cant, twitching uncontrollably. The pace is uneven now, and you can tell he’s nearing his edge from how tight he’s gripping the pillow, chest glistening with sweat now.

He wails as he comes undone, voice bouncing off the walls as he sprays white all over your pillow, grip on the pillow slipping as he collapses forward. He barely catches himself, and his forehead still ends up pressed into the sheets in front of him, giving you a perfect view of his back arching, muscles rippling as he comes.

“Please, please, please.”

It’s so quiet you almost don’t catch it, but it’s there - he’s saying “please” like a prayer, breathy and fucked out. It’s so out of character that you fumble to rewind the video, to make sure you’re not hearing things. Sure enough, he’s actually begging, real pleas falling out of his mouth as he comes down from his high. You watch the video through - watch him tremble through the aftershock, watch his glassy eyes come up to look right into the camera, watch his hand reach out to press the stop button. The final seconds are a blur, but you hear the way he lets out a quiet, wet “fuck”, a little laugh escaping him like he can’t believe he just did that. That’s how the video ends, and it leaves you reeling.

The drive home is the longest it’s ever been. Every red light is out to get you, and every time someone takes just too long at a stop sign you might squeeze the steering wheel so hard it comes off. All you can see and hear right now is Minho in that god forsaken video, body arching and bending for you.

When you finally, finally pull into your complex’s parking garage, you’re overjoyed. You didn’t respond to him - didn’t have to, you know he has your location. You know he watched you speed home at a record (probably illegal) pace, and you hope he’s ready for you when you get in there. You’re certain that he’s going to be back on his bratty behavior by the time you’re back, the rush of his high having settled into embarrassment and shame. You can’t wait to break him all over again.

The apartment is silent when you slip in, making sure to drop your keys into the bowl by the door high enough up that the sound echoes. There’s shuffling down the hall where your bedroom is, but that’s all you hear.

You don’t say a word as you stalk towards the bedroom, padding softly down the hallway. The door is creaked open just barely, casting a thin line of light across the hall. As you move, you watch a shadow cut through the line, then total silence, minus your own breathing and the sound of your socked feet against the floor. 

You peek through the slit of the door, and the sight takes your breath away.

Minho’s sitting on the edge of the bed, angled away from you. From where you are, you can see how he has one hand around his cock, lazily pumping it. Your desecrated pillow is still right in the middle of the bed, and his head falls back as his fingers squeeze just a little bit at the tip of his cock. His eyes are pressed shut, and his whole face scrunches with pleasure.

You stay and watch for a little longer, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he pleasures himself. He seems lost in it, body giving in to his base instincts as he chases pleasure. 

Just as he’s about to reach another peak right in front of you he stops himself before you can bust in and stop him yourself. He hisses, body bending in on itself as his hips buck uselessly into the air, seeking pleasure.

“Fuck, not yet.” He mutters to himself, eyebrows furrowed.

“Not without-”

“Without me?” you call, pressing into the room.

His head snaps up, caught in the act, and you watch as his face tries to fall back into the confident facade he usually wears.

“You’re here,” he says, voice wobbly, “Just in time.”

His hand goes to reach for his twitching cock again, but you’re faster, smacking his hand away and squeezing right at the base of his cock yourself. A choked sound claws its way out of his throat before he can stop it, and his ears turn bright red.

“Now you’re trying to be good, huh? Waiting for me to come like you didn’t mess my pillow up earlier.”

Your hand is coated in a sticky mix of his come, precum, and lube, and you start to slowly jerk him off while you talk to him, revelling in the way he tries to glare at you through his bangs. His body betrays just how good this feels, so you let him pretend to be mad for a little longer.

“Dirty boy,” you say with a tsk, “Dirty, dirty boy. What do dirty boys get, I wonder?”

“Whatever they want,” he says through clenched teeth, fire in his eyes and venom in his mouth, “Got you to come-hah-home, didn’t I?”

“Well someone had to remind you of your place,” you responded, picking up the pace of your hand, “Or else you’d keep being a desperate little brat. Can’t have that, can we?”

He opens his mouth to retort, and as he does, you spit down, letting the glob dangle from your mouth until it lands square on his tip. He squeaks, eyes glossy and entranced, watching as it slowly lands on his cock. Your thumb swipes up to add it to the obscene mix of liquids you’re using as lube, and he groans, low and in his chest. You just grin at him, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. He glares, but keeps his mouth shut, lips pressed in a thin line.

You stroke him like this until you feel him getting close, and just as his eyelids start to flutter and his hips start to lift up off the bed, you let go. You use his chest to wipe the mess off your fingers, leaving a slick trail across it, and step back. He whines like he can’t help himself, and you just laugh, the kind of laugh that tells him he’s in for a long night.

After aaaaall that, you really thought I would give you what you want? Stupid boy.” You flick his forehead, moving to shift your own clothes off.

“‘m not stupid,” he says, though the way his cock dribbles more precum at your tone is very telling, “I don’t need you to give me anything. I can take what I want.”

He reaches for your now naked form, and you press the palms of your hands to his chest, shoving him back on the bed. He lands with an oomph, hands scrambling to help stabilize himself, but you don’t let him, sliding to straddle his thighs with practice ease. Before another quip can fall out of his mouth, you surge forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. The kiss is anything but nice, both of you clashing for dominance over the other. His fingers come to tangle in the hairs at the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer. You moan into his mouth and he grins into the kiss, like he’s somehow won. His cocky behavior doesn’t last long, not when one of your hands trails up to hold his neck, fingers encasing it like you own him (because you do). You don’t squeeze, but you don’t need to - his breath hitches, and the hand in your hair falls to your shoulders, gripping there for dear life. It’s the gentle kind of dominance that has his mind reeling, the kind that makes his whole body give in, even when his mind isn’t ready to.

When you pull away, he whimpers, a little trill in the back of his throat, and it has him flushing, eyes avoiding your knowing gaze. His hands fall from your shoulders, balling into fists at his side so he doesn’t lash out at you for making him bend so easily.

“It’s so fun when you fight, darling, but it’s even better when you give in,” you say, hand on his throat squeezing ever so slightly, “Don’t you think?”

“As if I’d ever give in to y-ohhh!”

Your hips slide forward just enough to grind your arousal against his, deep and needy. You only circle your hips once, enough to cut off his backtalk, and then settle down, weight now pressing right where he needs you the most.

His hands come to grasp at the fat of your hips, hips bucking and hands pressing you down to give himself more friction where he needs it. He moans dramatically as he does, head falling back, eyes peeking out from under heavy eyelids to catch your reaction. You let him keep playing his little game, amused at his bratty antics, and he takes advantage of your willingness. Soon, he’s panting beneath you, dirty talking you like he was the one in charge (funny, considering the fact that he was the one flushed and desperate below you).

“Yeeaah, jus’ like that, jagi,” he slurs, pleasure clouding his brain, “Makin’ me feel sho good, keep doin’ that, feels goooood, jagi. So-hah-perfect. P-perfect for me.”

When he starts babbling again, clammy hands slipping in their grip on your hips, you pull away again. He tries harder this time to stop you, hands pawing at your sides and trying to drag you back down, but he’s so overtaken by his own arousal that he’s not strong enough to fight your will. You move to sit next to him, propping yourself up against the headboard, right around where he placed his phone when he sent you that obscene video.

“I really liked the show you put on for me earlier, you know…” you start, trailing off.

“Y-yeah, it was. Hah, it was quite the show, wasn’t it?” He’s got his cocky grin plastered back on his face, but it’s faltering now, unfocused eyes giving him away.

“Mhm. So much so that I want an encore.”

“An…encore?” He sounds surprised, controlled tone slipping for a moment.

“Yeah, an encore,” you say, motioning to the pillow in front of you, “You’re wet enough, aren’t you, jagi? Can you be good, give me another show?”

He looks like he’s thinking about fighting you about this, but admitting that he was too impatient and needed your touch on him now would be giving in to your whims, too. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and the glint in your eyes told him that you knew exactly what you were doing. The look in your eyes screamed “checkmate”, and he gritted his teeth, clearly unhappy with the predicament you’ve put him in.

But if he had to give in, he would give in to the lesser of two evils. Humping a pillow in front of you was pathetic, demeaning even, but it was better than admitting to you that he wanted your touch, wanted you to do what you wanted to him. Humping the pillow gave him more control, so he settles his face into a smirk, mouth opening before he can think about it too much.

“Fine, I can give you an encore,” he says, shaky limbs moving to straddle the pillow again, “Keep your eyes on me, okay? I run this show.”

“Mhm, sure you do, jagi.” You say, eyes lidded and mouth curled into a teasing simper, but you let him do his thing.

His hands run down his body sensually and slow, starting at his shoulders and trailing down to his thighs. He makes sure to exaggerate every sound he makes, letting out a particularly loud gasp when his finger catches his nipple on its path down his body. He revels in the way your body stiffens a bit, unable to resist reacting to his little sounds. 

His hands drift even lower, to the pillow, and shift it so it sits just right below him, red cock already drooling on the pillowcase. He tries to start slow, but you’ve been keeping him on the edge for so long he just can’t help but grind down fast and deep, eyes fluttering shut when the friction starts to be juuust right. The exaggerated moans become real moans as his head falls forward, mouth forming an ‘o’ when his shaky legs can’t hold him anymore and he’s forced to grind his hips in circles for friction.

You’re not even sure he’s aware of the tears as they start to stream down his cheeks, broken sobs falling out of his mouth when it’s just not enough, not like this. He’s too weak now to buck the way he needs, and the friction is so very close to feeling good, so close that it almost hurts. He wants to topple over the edge, prove that he’s the one who’s getting what he wants right now, but it’s like his body betrays him. He can’t seem to come like this, body suspended right on that edge but never tipping over. His body falls forward now, tummy pressing flat into the pillow, and he truly starts humping it like a desperate dog.

Whines of your name and “please” tumble out of his mouth, but you don’t help him. Not yet. This is his true punishment for his bratty behavior, because you’re giving him the attention he craved, sure, but not what he actually needs.

Arousal pools in your belly, and you only last a few long minutes before you crack, shifting from your position against the headboard. He looks up, eyes glassy, and you bring your hand to cradle his face, angling him so that he’s looking up at you. Even now, his hips don’t stop, despite it being increasingly clear that he can’t come like this.

“Ready to be good for me now?”

It’s a simple question, but when he goes to answer it, you shove a few of your fingers into his open mouth, chuckling as he chokes around them a bit. He tries to talk through your fingers, but it all comes out muffled and garbled, making frustrated tears peel down his face. You can see what he needs in his eyes, but you want him to say it, so you pull your fingers out of his mouth long enough for him to respond.

“Yes, yes, ‘m ready, ‘m ready for you!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you begin, hand not slick with his spit coming to tap at your chin, “I haven’t heard an apology yet for your bratty behavior earlier.”

“‘m sorry!” he wails, hips twitching and shaking as his pace becomes reckless and uneven, “‘m so-hic-sorry, jagi, ‘m sorry! Sorry for being a brat, I’ll be good now. Be soooo fuckin’ good for you, so good!”

“My perfect boy,” you coo, reaching to flip him on his back, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He shakes his head a violent no as you reposition yourself so that your mouth is just a breath away from his cock. Only when he chokes out a frantic “please” do you give in and take him down your throat, humming around his length when he lets out a scream at the warm, wet heat of your mouth. It’s everything he’s been missing and too much, all at once.

He’s not even sure what he’s babbling anymore, and you’re not quite sure either. It’s all nonsense with the occasional cry of your name mixed in, teeth gnawing so hard at his bottom lip that it bleeds a little.

And when he starts begging? Well, you’re not even sure what he’s begging for anymore, to stop or to cum. It’s so pathetic that it has you taking him even deeper, one hand coming to fondle his balls.

You pull off only for a moment, but it’s enough for his hands to find your hair and try and push you back down, more tears bubbling up.

“Come whenever.”

It’s the only warning he gets before you’re diving back down, and he can’t help himself. His hands don’t leave your hair, but they’re not forcing you down or guiding your pace. They just grip tight into your hair, like he’s trying to ground himself so he doesn’t cum too last.

But he’s unbearably close, babbles and cries changing into uncontrollable gasps and wails of your name. He’s writhing underneath you, and you’re forced to bring your hands up to his hips to pin him down to the bed. He tries to thrash under your hold, but it’s no use - he can’t escape the encompassing pleasure of your mouth. You left him nowhere to run or hide.

“Come, ohmygod, gonna-fuck fuck fuck! Coming coming. ‘m coming!”

He twitches in your grasp, and his release floods your mouth, salty and thick. His mouth falls open into a silent scream, the only sounds managing to slip through choked down or unable to come out. You keep your mouth on his until you can tell the overstimulation is starting to hurt, his hands shakily trying to pull you off his softening cock.

You do so with a pop, making a show out of swallowing all of his come. He laughs like you’re unbelievable, arm coming to cover his face. He’s flushed all the way down the chest, splotches of red even stretching down his tummy a bit. He has the decency to look embarrassed now, after he’s already come down your throat. You laugh, reaching to pull the arm off his face.

He’s pouting, bottom lip caught between his teeth again as he looks anywhere but your face.

“Jagi. Minho.”

No response. His arms come to cross across his chest, and you roll your eyes fondly.

“Lee Minho. C’mon. Look at me. Please?”

The “please” gets him to spare you the tiniest of glances, but it’s all you get. You sigh, moving to get off the bed.

“C’mon, jagi. Shower with me. Pretty please? The shower feels better with you in it…”

He groans, dragging his hands down his face, but he rolls off the bed, landing on the floor with a thunk. You snort this time, amused at his antics, but not amused by the idea of his sticky cock staining your nice carpet.

“Lee Minho get your sorry ass up. I want to shower, and I know you do too.”

“Hnnnngh…”

You sigh, coming to lay down next to him on the floor.

“Fine. We can just both lay here forever.”

He rolls over into your arms, grumbling, but settles into your heat anyways. So now you’re two grown adults, lying on your bedroom floor, sticky and smelling of sweat and sex.

And damn it, was there no place you’d rather be.

“Love you, jagi.” You murmur.

“Love you too.” He mumbles.

And if you fall asleep right there on the floor, well, no one’s there to judge you for it. You’ll regret it in the morning, but for now, it’s just the two of you, in the warm glow of the lamplight, lying on the floor like idiots.

But you’re idiots in love, so who’s to care.

you and minho fought often, so often that it had become second nature to you. being stuck in the same group—being roommates— only made it worse. it was constant, and frankly suffocating.

“no, I'm serious,” he said, taking a step closer, “we practiced that turn a hundred times.”

“and I did it right a hundred times,” you shot back. 

“one mistake doesn’t mean you get to tear me apart! besides, don't act like you didn't use the wrong foot while switching into the diagonal step.”

minho scoffed, folding his arms— staring at you like you slapped him.

“wrong foot?” he repeated. “i made up for your late count.”

you scoffed—did he think you were a joke? “made up for your late count?” 

was he coming up with excuses, or did he genuinely believe that messing up the step counted as helping? 

“you didn’t make up for anything. you panicked.” you snapped back, stabbing your finger into his chest. 

“you rushed and threw off my balance.”

“shit, so now it's my fault you couldn’t land it?” he pressed, stepping even closer, eyes darkening—the air between you felt thicker.

"I would've landed it if you hadn’t yanked me early!” you retaliated, your chest rising and falling, frustration taking over.

minho stepped closer with a glower, eyes narrowing—as if he was daring you to push further. 

“we failed because you froze.” he said, voice low and sharp.

“no,” you responded quickly, bitterly laughing. “we failed because you don't know how to dance with someone—only over them.”

for a moment, he looked stunned.

“...what did you just say?”

“i said,” you took a deep breath before continuing. 

“you don't like to dance with people,” you repeated, not backing down. “you dance like you're alone, and everyone else just has to keep up or get dragged.”

silence rung out between you.

minho’s stare hardened, disbelief turning into something colder— ready to fight back— until a hand gripped his shoulder, trying to hold him back, that hand belonging to felix. 

“can you guys please relax?” he huffed, a concerned look on his face. “you both made mistakes—so stop fighting. it's not going to change the fact that we failed because of you two.”

minho's jaw clenched, but felix's grip kept him from lunging forward. you were staring at minho half in disbelief and half in frustration. a part of you wanted to provoke him, but the other was telling you to drop it. 

felix shook his head, letting go of minho. “seriously guys, what's done is done. you two messed up your duet, and we all faced the consequences. yelling at each other won't fix shit.”

minho’s glare snapped towards you, but he didn't argue.

before you two killed each other, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. hyunjin slowed to a stop in front of you both, eyes wide and grinning.

“guys,” he said, catching his breath. “we’re getting a second chance!”

both you and minho froze. 

“...second chance?” felix asked, confused.

hyunjin nodded, voice stable now. “yeah, the professor knows the mess with your duet affected the rest of us, buuuut… he's giving us one more shot. basically—fix your part, or the whole group suffers.” his ecstatic tone when he first arrived shifting into something more serious.

minho blinked, mouth open slightly. “fix it…? together?”

“yes,” hyunjin stared at him, exhaling like he couldn't believe he was saying it. “how else are you supposed to perform a duet? anyways, this means you actually have to cooperate. no more screaming in hallways, holding grudges, and for god’s sake stop flirting in front of us!”

“what? okay, i”m going to stop you there,” you quickly cut off hyunjin. “in what world would I ever flirt with that narcissist?”

minho’s gaze flicked to you for a second—clenching his fists like he was going to defend himself, until hyunjin's voice stopped him.

“sure, whatever— i don't care if it's flirting or fighting. you guys need to put aside your pride for once and make sure we dont fuck this up okay?” his voice firm—making sure he got his point through your heads.

“so what, are we supposed to just pretend that didn't happen?” minho responded, getting worked up all over again. 

felix exhaled loudly as he stepped forward—preparing to step in if something happened. “no.” he paused before looking directly at both you and minho, “you’re supposed to shut up and not make it worse.”  

“yeah, you guys can do whatever you want after we pass.” hyunjin leaned onto the wall, agreeing with felix.  

“seriously, how do you guys argue this much? does it not get tiring?” felix's eyes flicked between the two of you, genuine confusion painting his face.

“minho’s ego is clearly too high to accept that I'm just as good of a dancer as he is—so he constantly nitpicks every little thing I do. It's like he's obsessed with me or something.” you responded flatly, maintaining eye contact with minho.

“me?” he scoffed, a humourless laugh slipping out, “obsessed with you? you wish.” 

felix ran a hand down his face, exhaustion coloring his voice. “you know what? forget I even asked.” he glanced at hyunjin, who shrugged helplessly. 

“just— go home and work things out, okay? we can't risk losing our last chance because you two can't stand being in the same room for five minutes.” 

minho grabbed his bag from the corner, already heading towards the door. “fine, whatever.”

you followed him out, the door slamming shut behind you. the campus was quieter now, most people gone for the night. the only things you could hear were a few voices in the distance and the footsteps of both you and minho.

the walk back to the dorms was suffocating. minho walked a few steps ahead, with his hands shoved in his pocket—you kept your distance, staring at the pavement—wondering how you would try and work with him.

by the time you reached the building, your chest felt heavy—you couldn't tell if it was anxiety or anger. minho pushed through the entrance without looking back, and you caught the door before it could shut in your face.

“seriously?” you muttered.

he didn't respond. didn't even flinch.

up the stairs, down the hall, and finally—your shared dorm room. minho unlocked the door and stepped inside first, tossing his bag onto the couch like he’d already forgotten you existed.

you closed the door behind you— a little harder than necessary, and stood there for a moment, staring at him before you sat on the couch, keeping your distance.

“so what now?” you asked, breaking the silence. “we just pretend that didn't happen?”

minho turned slowly, leaning against the arm of the couch. “what do you want me to say?”

“i don't know—maybe acknowledge the fact that you were being unreasonable?” you said, frustration bleeding into your voice.  

“unreasonable?” he let out a breathless chuckle and shook his head, “youre the one who can't take criticism.”

you let out a forced laugh before retaliating, “that's rich coming from you.” minhos gaze dropped onto your crossed arms, “someone seriously needs to put you in your place.” 

minho's mouth opened, then closed. his eyebrows shot up, and for a second, he just stared at you—like he couldn't quite process what you just said.

“i—what?” his voice came out slightly higher than usual, and you watched as his ears turned pink. “put me in my—are you serious right now?”

you shrugged, trying to keep your expression neutral. “yeah. someone really should.”

he let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. “that's—you can't just say shit like that.”

“why not? it's true.”

minho’s gaze snapped back to yours, something flickering in his eyes that you couldn't quite read. he opened his mouth like he was gonna argue, but no words came out. 

“you’re unbelievable,” he whispered, but his voice had lost its bitterness.

“why?” you tilted your head, a small grin appearing on your face. “did I finally find a way to shut you up?”

“shut up,” he said, but there was no anger behind it—just embarrassment he was very desperate to hide. he cleared his throat— trying to avoid making eye contact with you. “it's getting late…can we just— can we figure out the choreography tomorrow? Please?” 

you glanced at the time on your phone. he wasn't wrong—it was late—you were both exhausted from the performance and the argument that followed. 

“fine.” you said, uncrossing your arms. “but you’re actually going to work with me this time, not against me.”

“i always work with you,” minho protested weakly, finally meeting your eyes again. 

“sure you do.” you stood up from the couch, grabbing your bag from where you dropped it, "that's why we failed today.”

he winced slightly at that, and you almost felt bad for bringing it up. 

almost.

the silence that followed felt heavier than before. minho looked away, jaw working like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. 

“i’m going to bed,” you said, finally breaking the tension. you couldn't do this anymore tonight—the arguing, the back and forth. you were exhausted.

“yeah,” minho said quietly, still not looking at you, “okay.”

you turned towards your room, taking a couple steps, but stopped and hesitated for just a second. part of you wanted to say something else— maybe apologize for your comment, but you were too tired to deal with anything. 

“we’ll figure it out tomorrow,” you added, softer this time. 

minho’s eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, and he nodded, “yeah. tomorrow.” 

you gave him one last look before heading into your room and closing the door behind you. the moment you were alone, you dropped your bag on the floor and collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

tomorrow. 

you’d fix everything tomorrow.

you just hoped it would actually be that simple.   

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────

the next morning came too fast.

you woke up to sunlight shining through the blinds and the muffled sound of movement in the space outside your room. for a moment you just laid there— replaying last night in your head, you regretted a lot of things.

you groaned, dragging a pillow over your face—ready to scream, until a sharp knock on your door jolted you upright. 

“are you up?” minho's voice came through, flat and cautious.

“yeah,” you called back, shoving the pillow aside and swinging your legs off the bed. “i’ll be out soon.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────

the practice room felt different.

emptier.

colder.

felix and hyunjin were already there when you arrived. felix was sitting against the wall—earbuds in, eyes closed like he was mentally preparing himself for whatever chaos would unfold. hyunjin was sitting next to him, scrolling on his phone—but the way he kept glancing at the door told you he’d been waiting.

“morning,” you greeted them, dropping your bag by the wall—beginning to stretch.  

felix pulled out one earbud. “hey.”

hyunjin straightened up, rolling his shoulders back. “okay so—are we going to do this, or are you two going to need another minute to… i don't know, get it out of your system first?”

“we’re fine,” you responded quickly.

“sure you are.” hyunjin didn't sound very convinced.

minho walked past you, already pulling his arm across his chest to stretch. “let’s just start. the sooner we fix this, the sooner we're done.”

you shot him a look. “wow. how motivating.”

"i wasn't trying to motivate you,” he muttered, not even looking at you. “just being realistic.”

“right.” you bit your tongue, resisting the urge to say something that would start another argument.

not today.

felix stood up and sighed loudly. “okay, let's go over the group part first—just to make sure we’re all on the same page, then you two can work on the duet.”

you and minho nodded at the same exact time.

hyunjin let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “you guys are so weird.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────

you thought everything was going well. the counts were clean, the transitions smooth, and for once you weren't second-guessing every movement.

then minho opened his mouth.

“your footwork’s sloppy.”

you stopped turning to face him. “yeah? well your back isn’t straight.”

“it doesn’t need to be straight for this step, dumbass,” he shot back, crossing his arms 

“sure,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “but you should practice it anyway to make sure you don’t fuck it up a second time.”

minho's eyes widened for just a second before his expression hardened. he took a step towards you, voice dropping. 

“fuck it up? are you seriously going to stand there and act like yesterday wasn't on you?”

“it wasnt—”

“yes it was,” he cut you off jaw tight. “stop trying to rewrite what happened just because you don't want to admit it.”

your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. you lowered your voice, leaning in just enough so that he could hear every word. “keep talking like that and I’ll make sure your footwork isn’t the only thing that’s sloppy by the end of the hour.”

minho blinked. his mouth opened slightly, then closed—staring at you, clearly caught off guard.

“yeah?” he finally managed, voice rougher than before.

hyunjin groaned loudly from across the room. “could you guys whisper any louder? i was just starting to hear my own fucking counts.”

felix rubbed his temples, as if a headache was forming. “i think we should just stop for today—“

“what? no," minho said quickly, breaking eye contact with you. “i can’t leave yet. i’ve got so much to go over.” 

hyunjin and felix glanced at each other momentarily, before hyunjin stepped forward.

“perfect! you and minho can do whatever it is that you need to do and felix and i can relax. i’m sure you two wouldn’t understand, but carrying a group project on your back isn’t very easy,” 

hyunjin slung his bag over his shoulder, turning towards the both of you to give you a final look, “make sure to work on your duet sections before you have any extra fun.”

hyunjin and felix didn't waste any time. they headed for the door, not even bothering to glance back. you didn't think much of it—not until the door swung shut behind them.

then you heard it.

the lock.

a soft, deliberate click.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────

i really hope u guys enjoy it so far because this genuinely took years off my lifespan while writing it..

lmk in the comments if you would like to be added to the taglist for chapter 2 !!

taglist: @minho4luv @daises-and-domming @gabimmat @mxmx09

read chapter two here.

inspired by self-care. this became very sappy,,, hope the smut is still good yall :,)

Minho's day was awful. Nothing went right. For the first time in months, he had overslept. Han had to shake him awake, whining that “we have practice in 5 minutes!” as Minho groggily got out of bed. No time to wash up or eat as he was hurried to the car, their manager sighing as he picked them up. Then there was practice. The members often relied on him with dance. They were all a talented bunch, working hard to learn whatever choreography was featured on their next comeback, but Minho had a way of grasping it that none of them could. He knew the details simply after watching the teacher once, and he honestly worked as an assistant when it was time for the others to learn. This morning, however, his mind was elsewhere. Any and all questions were met with a furrow of his brows, his patience worn thin quicker than usual. He grunted in frustration at any “silly questions”, telling them to just work harder and shut up. He could see Chan talking with Han out of the corner of his eye, probably asking what the hell was wrong with him. He knew it was unfair of him to be like that. He usually enjoyed it, the responsibility and trust. Being a dependable hyung who his younger friends looked up to and listened to. But something about the chaos of his morning had thrown him off for the entire day. He barely spoke in fear of saying something he didn’t mean. 

The day dragged on as they practised. The others kept their distance, not out of fear but just so he could self-regulate. Felix walked past him and dropped off a snack for him, but didn’t engage besides that. Minho felt so lonely even when surrounded by his friends. He knew it was pathetic, he was the one actively pushing them away, but the pain of it didn’t decrease by that knowledge. Everything was shit and he wanted it all to be over. 

8 hours later when practice was done, he was ready to go in the car. Han, Chan and Changbin were going out to eat afterwards before they got in the studio to work on some songs and asked if he wanted to join them. Minho shook his head, mumbling that he just wanted to sleep. They let him go, murmuring amongst each other worriedly. He didn’t have the energy to socialize, not even with his favourite people. He couldn’t sit at a table having to face them and the harsh comments he had made. It was better to just go home, sleep, and apologize the day after, even if the thought of being on his lonesome made him feel physically ill. He sat down in the car, and the manager started driving him home. Minho had his headphones on with no music just to dull the sounds of the road. Every little sound was overwhelming and he was incredibly overstimulated. When they were 10 minutes away from his and Han’s dorm, he felt the car jump. His manager cursed under his breath and pulled over. They had a flat tyre. Perfect. Minho could barely hold himself back from screaming, opting to take a deep breath to calm himself instead. He was handed a mask and a hat and was told it was quicker for him to walk than to wait for someone to pick him up. The manager looked apologetic as he said he had to stay by the car to wait for a towing truck and couldn’t walk him home. Minho sighed yet again, nails digging into his palms. He just walked. He needed to get home so he could yell into his pillow, shower, and dream of a better tomorrow. 

Just as he thought the day couldn’t get worse, it started raining. Heavy cold droplets poured down on him as he hurried home to his apartment. Within minutes, he was soaked down to the bone, clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He would’ve cried if he wasn’t so pissed off. When he finally arrived at the apartment complex, of course the elevator had stopped working. He couldn’t even react. He just walked up the stairs, hair dripping, and opened the door. 

What Minho didn’t know was how many messages you had received. The members had texted you throughout the day about his mood, begging you for guidance on how to deal with him. You were the one who had told Felix to get him something to eat. You were also the one who encouraged 3racha to invite him out for dinner. Nothing had worked based on how they all whined in their messages. You had sighed and told them not to worry about it. You’d deal with it. Hence why when Minho opened the door, he was met with you. It wasn’t hard getting in, considering you knew the password to the door from your previous visits. While Minho had walked home in the pouring rain, you had ordered food and gathered all the blankets on his bed. With a gentle smile, you walked up to him. 

“Hi my love.” 

You looked him up and down, frowning as you saw the state of him. He looked sopping wet and  close to tears, eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. Before anything else, you hurried over to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. You were about to dry his hair for him when he grabbed it, snatching the towel out of your hands to dry himself. You blinked in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

Your voice was gentle as you questioned him. He just huffed, not saying a word, and walked inside. You knew he got like this sometimes. There were times he was so upset he didn’t want to talk and he just headed straight to bed. That, you were used to. But he wasn’t usually rude. Teasing, sure, no one could get his bratty side out of him, but never rude.

“There's food in the kitchen. I got pudding for you.” 

You called out after him. Another grunt in response as he sat down at the table and unpacked the food. He ate like a machine, shuffling food into his mouth with no enjoyment of the flavour. You sighed deeply. You knew he needed some kindness right now. To be cared for. But you doubted he’d agree to it in this sate. You left him on his own and started preparing, both mentally and physically. 

Minho's mind was swimming in thoughts. He thought about tomorrow, how he’d apologize to the others. The bed that was calling to him like siren song. How wet he was. You. How he was happy you were there, but also apologetic because he knew he wasn’t great company right now. He sighed as you walked further into the apartment. Minho knew you meant well. That you wanted to look after him. A part of him wanted that too. But he was too rigid, too up in his emotions to show how grateful he was. He eyed the pudding. He had no idea how you knew about his shitty mood, but he could guess his members had some part in it. Apparently he’d have to apologize and say thank you once the morning came. Another sigh escaped his lips as he grabbed a plate and a spoon and opened the pudding container. It was really sweet of you to get him his favourite treat, but the taste was almost bitter in his mouth. His mood was ruined, so the pudding was ruined; that was just the way things worked. He still ate it, hoping it’d at least make him a bit easier to deal with for you. It didn’t. 

He stood up and put the dishes in the sink before walking towards his bed. His hair was still damp, so were his clothes, but he didn’t have the energy to care. So what if he was shaking from the cold? Showering and drying off felt like too much of a process for him to even start. He peeked into his room, expecting to see you sitting on his bed on your phone only for you to be nowhere to be seen. All that was there was the pile of blankets you had laid there. He felt his stomach churn. You had brought him pudding, food, a towel and were ready to tuck him in warmly under the blankets, and he had barely spoken to you. He felt bad. Like an ungrateful spoiled brat. He sighed and rubbed his temples, his head aching. He should at least say thank you. If he didn’t he wouldn’t be able to sleep. With tired steps, he looked around for you. You weren’t in the living room, nor in Han's room. He blinked slowly and walked up to the bathroom. The lights were turned off, yet the room was lit. Candles of various sizes littered the bathroom, casting it in a yellow glow. The tub was filled with warm lilac water that smelled of lavender, bubbles covering the surface. And in the middle stood you, dressed in a white bathrobe. You smiled fondly. 

“Are you ready for your bath?” 

He should’ve been happy, smiling back at you and thanking you for how sweet you were. All he could feel was guilt, stabbing at his insides like ice-cold knives. You did this for him, showed him such care, and he had done nothing to deserve it. He frowned and shook his head. 

“You go ahead. I’m going to bed.”

He muttered. He was met with a soft sigh as you walked closer. He was expecting you to be mad, to punish him for his rudeness. That might actually have helped get him out of his head. To have you degrade and push him around, for you to use him. That wasn’t what he got. What he got was you dragging a gentle hand through his wet hair and smiling with the patience of a saint. 

“Minho. You’re taking a bath.” 

It wasn’t a request; it was a command. He shivered at the way his name fell from your lips. It was caring yet firm. You weren’t budging. But sadly his shame outweighed everything else, so he shook his head, your fingers still tangled into his locks. 

“No.”

You tutted at him, petting his hair softly. 

“Baby… Don’t you want to be a good boy for hyung? Let me take care of you.” 

Your words were sickly sweet. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep the fight in him. 

“I…”

You just hummed and leaned closer, kissing his forehead. 

“Let's get you out of these clothes, you're shaking.” 

You carefully peeled off his shirt. His skin was cold to the touch as you rubbed at his chest soothingly. You trailed kisses down his neck, undoing his belt. Minho kept shivering, but now for a different reason. You were so gentle with him. Frustratingly so. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, but he pushed them down, looking up at the ceiling. You didn’t bat an eye, just pulled his pants and underwear down in one sweep, and held his hands so he could step out of them. His body betrayed him. No matter how insistent he was that he wouldn’t let you care for him, his body craved it like nothing else. His muscles ached, and his head was pounding. He needed care, and his body knew that, so he followed your lead and stepped out of his pants. You kissed his temple in silent praise and led him to the bathtub. 

With one tug, your bathrobe was undone, sliding down your arms in a heap on the floor. Minho let his eyes run down your body, his own starting to warm up at the sight. You didn’t say anything about it, just helped him into the bathtub. He sat down and was submerged in the hot water. It felt heavenly against his worn body, already starting to relieve his pain. You sat down behind him, pulling his back into your front as you relaxed against the edge of the bathtub. He couldn’t relax. He felt awkward. Not because the two of you were naked together, that had happened more than once before, but the softness of your touch was burdensome. You ran your fingers through his hair, gathering some water in one of your hands to pour it down his head. It was… really nice. Too nice. Not something he felt like he deserved. Minho deserved punishment. Harsh touches that left bruises on his skin and pleasure to his stomach. He shouldn’t receive this amount of care, in his opinion. He craved thet bordering on painful pleasure. He thought that might make all his bad thoughts go away. Put him out off his suffering. 

Hence why he egged you on. He leaned his head back against your shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Minho licked your skin before biting down, sucking on your neck to mark you. You hadn’t given him permission, and he knew that. Your grip tightened on the side of the bathtub. Unfortunately for him, you knew exactly what he was doing. You didn’t curse at him like he wanted, just let the hand on his head drag lower down to his throat. He was hoping you’d grab it to put him in his place. Just hard enough so he could feel it. But no. Your hands continued exploring. You petted his stomach gently, humming in his ear. The touch, no matter how innocent, still affected him. Minho tried to push his hips up to meet your hand, but you didn’t let him, moving your hand to his hip. He whined against your neck, biting down harder. You didn’t react, just massaged his hip with gentle care. You were killing him. Minho felt desperate. All he wanted was for you to force him into submission, to turn off his brain, but every single time he tried to get a rise out of you, you stayed stoic. 

“Today must’ve been so hard, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

You cooed and kissed the side of his head. He felt his heart in his throat at your affection. Minho grunted. 

“Shut up.” 

You both knew he didn’t mean that. It was half-hearted at best, and just an attempt to get you angry. 

“You’ve worked so hard, my sweet boy. Always my good boy.” 

More kisses were littered down his forehead and cheeks. He felt your hands wander lower to the inside of his thighs, massaging firmly. He whimpered at the sensation, cock twitching in the water. 

“Hyung…”

He whined. 

“Yes baby?” 

Your fingers teased along the fold where his thighs and groin met, painfully close to where he wanted you. His hand sank in the water, pulling your hand to his cock. You simply pulled it off, continuing your innocent massage. Minho nibbled at your throat again. 

“My good boy asks for what he wants, doesn’t he?” 

His need pulsed underneath his skin at your words. You knew what he wanted, so why didn’t you just give it to him? Why did you have to be this frustrating? Another whine escaped his lips. 

“Touch me.” 

He meant to sound demanding, but he ended up sounding desperate, his voice breathless. 

“I am touching you.” 

You said with feigned ignorance, nails dragging along his skin. Minho groaned. 

“Touch me here.” 

He nudged your hand to his cock again. You tutted softly. 

“Use your words for hyung.” 

The title was a weak blow. You knew what that did to him. Minho swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. Deep down he wanted to be good for you. After a full day of mentally putting himself down he longed to hear your sweet praise. To feel like he did something good. To not just be angery and frustrated. He sighed shakily and spoke. 

“Please touch my cock, hyung.” 

Minho had never sounded so small. He could feel your smile against the side of his face.

“Good boy.” 

Finally, you wrapped your hand around him. He gasped, his nails digging into his thighs. All the frustration from the day had built up inside him, making him incredibly sensitive. You felt him twitch in your hand as you stroked him slowly, all the way from root to tip. Even with your languid pace your grip was firm. He melted in your hands, head sagging against your shoulder in defeat. His brattiness had died as soon as you wrapped around him. 

“There you go, just relax.” 

You murmured in his ear. Minho had hoped for you to be rough with him. Remind him where he stood in the pecking order and make him feel ripped apart. But now he didn’t care. Feeling you gently pull him apart with the promise of putting him back together felt so much better. You were incredibly patient with him and showed him the love and care he felt undeserving off. It was dizzying. He didn’t know when the tears started falling but he didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed. He felt small and safe in your arms. Minho was blabbering, his words were jumbled as he whined and begged for more. You just shushed him, kissing his face and neck lovingly. His orgasm built slowly. Not intense or rough, just a gradual build. It started in his stomach, swirling until it spread out along his body, all the way to the tips of his fingers. He sobbed into the open air, his noises echoing against the bathroom walls. 

“Close? Go ahead whenever you’re ready, I’ve got you.” 

Minho didn’t know if he had blurted it out in the midst of his blabbering or if you just knew his body that well. His muscles barely tensed in anticipation of his orgasm. He was floating in the pleasure, body feeling one with the water. With one final stroke he came. Minho sighed as he pulsed in your hand, body falling limp against you. All the way throughout it you whispered praise and rubbed at his arm gently to ground him. He was fully gone, eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. He struggled to do so, sobbing softly as all of his frustrations from the day released at once. You just pulled him closer, arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace as you kissed his tears away. 

After a few minutes he came back to his body. His breathing was more even and his tears had stopped. All he could feel was the water and your warm body against his. He blinked slowly through the haze and turned to look at you. He was met with your smile, gentle and fond. 

“Do you feel a bit better?”

You hummed, pushing his hair away from his face. He nodded and leaned in for a kiss. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He mumbled against your lips. You pulled back and shook your head. 

“Nothing to be sorry for. I knew you were upset and I’m glad I could help.”

You rubbed his cheek, his eyes red and puffy as he looked up at you. He wanted to say more, to apologise again, but didn’t. He knew you didn’t want nor need to hear it. You understood him better than he did himself and had taken care of him the way he needed. His heart felt so full. 

“Thank you.”

He said with a shy smile. You just kissed him again. 

“You’re welcome. Let’s clean you properly and get you in bed, okay?” 

Minho wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was a virgin.

Untouched and "pure", undirtied by the hands of another some might even say. Specifically you, teasing him with light kisses and gentle touches.

And sure, he'd gotten to 2nd base in a high school relationship and older drunken mishaps but never anything more. Never as so far as to...feel certain things from another person.

Or from himself for that matter.

But no, wasn't ashamed that he was a virgin but he was maybe, perhaps, just a little bit embarrassed.

And he had absolutely zero idea how to breach the topic with you much less approach it.

You, who knew he was a virgin. Always so patient and careful with him.

Obviously, it should be expected that in the heat of the moment you stop when he freezes up or slows when he tenses up. But none of his previous partners had ever treated him so nicely, without getting angry or miffed off after at the very least.

They hadn't kissed his cheeks gently with a smile and conceded into a cuddle after it happened several times. They hadn't wrapped him up in their arms and turned on a movie, or delicately asked to talk about it after the fact.

You did though.

With no questions and no pressuring and no guilt-tripping. No anger.

He loved it. He loved you...as long as that had taken for him to come to terms with, with you and with himself.

He loved you.

And he was ready.

To...to, yeah.

And what better way than to just come out and say it? But that's embarrassing.

"I think I wanna...you know."

"Darling, sorry, can you speak up?" You looked up at him, yawning and setting your phone down on the coffee table.

He flushed and turned away, "um..." and he could feel every ounce of confidence in his body drain out of him like that.

Under your eyes, like this, you so attentive to listen to him. So nice, giving him your whole attention like he was the only thing that mattered.

You patted the couch next to you and he had no choice to sit down, falling into your arms like he was the missing piece to your puzzle.

He was quick to nuzzle his face into your throat, hiding against you. You just made him so nervous. Why did you make him so nervous still? After dating for this long, you shouldn't make him feel this way still.

Fluttery and gooey and nervous.

He'd say he hated it. The way you made his heart flutter...as sappy and love-drunk as that sounded.

He'd say he hated it when your hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. But he didn't hate it. Not one bit.

"I love you."

A grin split across your face, lighting up in that way you always did when he said those three words. No matter how many times he's said it, it would still drive you crazy like it was the first.

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose gently. "Say it again for me darling? Just one more time, please?"

Now you were teasing him. But you couldn't help it. You loved teasing him so much. Loved fluttering kisses over his face and hearing him say those words again and again and again.

You didn't think you could ever get sick of it.

"Fuck you," He groaned but his tone with filled with anything but malice, making you laugh; letting him bury his head into your neck. "Fuck you for being so..."

"So what?" You challenged. "Hmm?"

His voice was muffled against your skin, barely legible, "So...insufferable." But he must like suffering then. "And intolerable." And he must have built up some tolerability, maybe because he was around you so much, indulging in you far too often.

You pulled his body against yours, leaning back to slot his body onto yours.

He was too eager to follow your lead.

To let himself be maneuvered so his hips were pressed against yours and your chest was aligned with his, so softly you moved him, so carefully you treated him.

He could feel your heart beating in time with his, fluttering and quick. He loved the feeling like he loved everything about you.

Fuck you for making him feel like this.

For the butterflies in his stomach. And the flush on his cheeks. And the hard-on between you and him, wishing desperately you wouldn't notice.

But of course you would.

You pulled his face from your neck, hands holding either side of his face, keeping him in place - like he'd want to be anywhere else.

"So I'm insufferable and you're...what?" Your lips pouted and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss them. To kiss you. Hard and fast and the way he needed.

He pretended to think but was only sidetracked by the feeling of your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, tracing his lips and following down to his jawline.

"Mmm, I'm...handsome. And, uh," he let out an embarrassing breathy sigh when you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth so softly he wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't watched you.

"And...?" You prompted, smiling coyly. You knew the effect you had on him.

You peppered kisses over his face, following where you'd touched him with your fingers seconds before. You nipped at his cheek and pulled away before he could properly reply.

"...pretty?" Though the words came out more as a question than anything else. "I mean-"

A giggle escaped your lips, "Hell yeah you are," you brush your nose against his, looking at him in a way so scarily intimate he has to look away first.

"Pretty..." you mutter, sighing. "Y'know, I think I can accept being insufferable and intolerable if you can accept being pretty," you whisper, guiding him back to you with a delicate kiss, finally to his lips. "And handsome," you murmur, smiling against him as he deepens the kiss, hands grasping at the fabric of your shirt.

You pull away with a small teasing smirk, "And beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunnin-mmph!"

His hands fist the fabric, pulling you in before you can continue with your stupid rant. Before you can focus on the way his heart pounds when you add on another praise.

You hum and recede into the motion, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth, sloppyily, in the way oddly reminiscent of the way horny teenagers kiss.

In a matter of seconds he's turned the kiss from sweet to something not-so-sweet.

Exactly what he wanted, and maybe he wouldn't even need to suffer through the awkwardness of asking.

Everything he put in was returned by you in the tenfold, one hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, the effects making you laugh against his lips. His form shivering into yours, full-bodied and obvious.

"Sensitive?" You pulled away, with a breath, mouth curling up. "It's okay, it's cute-mmph!"

He crashed his lips against yours again, effectively cutting off your words and your thoughts. Even if you continued to play with the nape of his neck, fingers teasing over the spot. The feeling only made him more and more desperate.

But if he was needy, you were nothing but eager to reply, deepening the kiss like you were trying to consume him whole.

"Darling," you mutter, too soft. "Minnie," you groan, holding him to you gently.

But you were too soft, too gentle.

He wanted more, he wanted you.

Unrestrained, doing what you wanted for once, using him like you wanted. Because he wanted it.

Wanted to not be treated like he was a piece of glass, in danger of breaking every moment. He loved how carefully you treated him but now he wanted to be treated rough, he needed to be treated rough.

But he didn't want to say it.

Slowly, he pressed his hips against yours, shuddering at the fizzle of friction sending sparks through his nerves.

"Minho," you sighed, nails scratching against his scalp making him whine. "Darling," with a particularly harsh nip to his lips, almost hard enough to break the skin - that was what he wanted.

A whimper built up in his throat only to be swallowed down. He wasn't that desperate yet. Even if every one of his movements seemed to argue otherwise, finding a clumsy rhythm in grinding against you, replicating and intensifying those sparks.

Building them up to what he hoped was more.

Even if the motions were clumsy and new. Curious but wanting all the same, the way he moved was raw, exploring and ruining. It made his head spin and everything else go foggy.

You dragged your mouth away from his, tugging his head up by his hair to lick your way down his neck.

A lick and an open-mouthed kiss, making him shudder and shake, heat emanating from the areas you touched and the places you pressed together.

Separated by stupid clothes but not enough to stop him.

He must look pathetic the way he thrusts against you, each discordant grind getting more desperate, more sloppy with the skim of your mouth. With the drag of your tongue down his jaw and pulse-point, heart thrumming beneath your lips. With every shockwave of euphoria that tingles down his spine, with every moan and whisper of his name that leaves your lips.

"Minho," "Minnie," "Baby," "Darling,"

His head is too fuzzy to worry about anything else. To think about the needy noises that leave him, he's sure he sounds lewd, and dirty.

From just dry-humping against you.

But it's not enough. He wants you rough and hard and on top of him. Showing him what to do, telling him what to do. To make him feel good, to make you feel good.

He falters imperceptibly. Should he...?

No, he doesn't want to. He can't. Because how is he supposed to ask you to-

He's caught up in his head but his body works on autopilot, reacting to the sensations that are bringing him closer and closer to cumming in his boxers.

Caught up in his thoughts but not so much so that he forgets about you,

and he certainly doesn't miss anything you say, like the words "Such a fucking good boy," nearly growled into his throat, voice husky and ragged as your teeth scrape down his skin.

Good boy?

He freezes. Heat pools deep inside of him, warm and making him painfully, painfully hard. The words push him nearly to the edge, and he can feel himself on the precipice of-

And then he's being shoved back, hard.

Harder than you meant to, but necessary for what you were about to do.

You pant, as does he, both of you flushed and trying to catch the breath stolen from your lungs.

No, no, not when he was finally getting somewhere, not when finally, finally he was getting what he wanted. Not when you were actually unrestrained and-

"I'm sorry."

His gaze snapped to yours.

"What?"

Your lips were red and parted, he was sure his weren't in much better shape. All he wanted to do was kiss them again, and again, and again.

He wants to hear you call him a good boy again.

"I-I'm sorry," you ran your hand through your hair. "I should've...I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry Minho." This time you were the one looking away.

"The fuck do you mean?" He snaps. It came out a little harsher than intended, he admits. But really, he was sitting here, horny and pent-up and just wanting to get fucked, and here you were, pushing him away and apologizing?

You blink, slowly, surprised.

And here he is, fuming.

Why won't you just fuck him?

"I'm sorry-" would you just stop saying that? His glare shuts you up. "Um," You only looked confused now, a furrow between your brow.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch it.

He wishes you'd just make the first move.

Because now he was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you. Not just mumble some nonsense and hope that you'd pick it up.

"I want you." He said simply, inching closer to you.

You nodded but made no move to continue anything. "Okay..." then a sigh. "I'm going to need you to elaborate just a little, Minho."

The flush across his cheeks spreads, down his neck and over his collarbone. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was made of glass or something? Like you cared about him so much it made him melt.

Fuck, he loved you.

"Look at me baby." You gently cup his face, turning him to meet your eyes. "You can tell me."

You definitely knew.

He could see it in your eyes, the worry giving way to a teasing look. Now you just wanted to humiliate him huh?

He hated you.

"Shut up."

You smiled, pulling him into your chest again, laying between your legs. Just like you were before. "Well that's not what good boys say, now is it?"

He pulled his face away, burying it into your shoulder to hide from your eyes. "I don't like you." His voice came out muffled into your shirt.

You only scoff out a laugh. "We both know that's not true darling. You love me." Voice dropping to a whisper, you lean into his ear. "Do I make you nervous baby?"

Someone just kill him now.

Put an end to his misery.

"N-no;" his voice still muffled in the fabric of his your shirt. "you're just-"

"Just what?" You challenge, fingers teasing into his hair, the way you know he likes it. "You're a big boy, you can use your words, can't you?"

He shudders and swears he can hear your smirk. "I...- fuck you."

You tug on his hair, making him face you. You swear he has a eye-contact problem. Or maybe he just gets too nervous looking you in the eye.

Either way, he's too adorable not to coo at.

"I was imagining this the either way around, but whatever rocks your boat~" you purr. "All you have to do is tell me what you want."

His hips jolt against yours, heat filling his body. As soon as he does though, your free hand stills his hips, fingertips teasing under the hem of his shirt while you look at him expectantly.

He wants to hide again, but you hold him in place. Pinning him against you, not letting him look away, not letting him move.

He wants you so bad.

"Touch me..." He mutters, and your hand slides just a bit higher on his abdomen, your thighs squeezing just a bit tighter around his hips.

It's over for him. He knows as soon as your lips turn up just a bit more into a coy smile. "Where?"

When he doesn't reply soon enough you skim your hand up and over his ribcage. Breathing growing heavy as your other leaves his hair, trailing down his neck and over his shoulder, slipping just beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Here?"

Such a simple touch makes him feel hot.

"Or here?"

Slowly, your hand under his shirt makes its path towards his chest.

He gasps lightly when your fingers tweak over his nipple, delighting in the way he quivers, rutting against you. You click your tongue at him. "You know, I really can't do anything to you until you tell me what you really want." Lips ghost over his ear, nipping lightly at the shell. "Too bad, really. I could take such good care of a cute little virgin like you~"

His voice cracks under the weight of your touch; trying to clear his throat while biting back a moan. "I'm not cute-"

You cut him off with a kiss, tentatively, like you hadn't stolen his breath with a kiss only minutes ago. Like you're afraid to break him.

But he wants you to break him.

The kiss is too short for his taste but it effectively cuts off his thought process, making him nearly dumb against you. Not dumb enough to not catch the smile against his skin, "I'm not cute." But he sounds so cute. It only makes the smile widen, turning your attention to trail kisses down his neck, murmuring between each press of your lips.

"Yes you are." Kiss.

And for some reason, he can't argue.

"Remember?" Kiss.

"I'm...what was it?" Smile, kiss, lick.

"Intolerable?" A pause, but only for a second, taking the moment to drag your tongue across his throat.

"And you're cute," Stopping to suck on the spot where his pulse thrums, feeling his heart beat under your lips.

"And pretty..." Kissing, once again, over the pretty mark you've left on his pale skin.

"And beautiful...and stunning...and..." you pull away, looking to see his eyes hooded and pupils blown. "...not getting anything more until you can tell me what exactly you want here."

You pinch his nipple one more time before pulling away, leaving him cold, whining, grinding desperately between your legs.

He's hard enough, you wonder if he would've cum in his pants if you hadn't stopped.

"I..." he starts and you wait patiently for him to continue. If you've learned anything about Minho, it's that he's nothing if not embarrassed to voice his wants. Especially the ones like this.

You remember how he blushed and couldn't stop wringing his hands when you worked him up to ask to kiss you for the first time.

The way he couldn't look you in the eye, focusing anywhere else.

But he knows by now, you're nothing if not a tease, willing to play the long game to get him to tell you what he wants.

Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He's so hard though, it hurts. And his skin nearly burns with the need to be touched, to feel you on him again. And all he wants to do is let you have your way with him.

Something that won't happen until he tells you.

"Please," he whines. Though he knows it's not enough. He just wants you. "Please?" On him, touching him, teasing him, kissing him, consuming him. "I need it." pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. "Just fuck me, I want you so, so bad." He pants, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Wanted you so bad, for forever now."

God, you can't wait to fuck him.

A grin blooms across your face, one that he can barely process. "Thought you'd never ask baby."

Not before you're pushing him onto his back, onto the soft cushions of the couch, switching your positions before crawling on top of him.

"M' gonna make you see stars baby." You purr, and he can do nothing else but nod dumbly, looking up at you with wide eyes like you're something of a goddess on top of him.

And you will make him see stars. Not yet anyway.

His vision goes hazy though as your hands quickly move to pull his shirt over his head, leaning down to kiss him again.

Deep and hard, filled with promises and care.

You lace your fingers with his against the couch cushions as you kiss down his jaw and down his neck and his chest and-

He gasps when you lick over his nipple, wrapping your lips around one to suck on it lightly.

Your tongue swirls around it, free hand tweaking at the other, making sure not to ignore it.

His cock is so hard, he can feel it throbbing in his sweats. He's sure he's already leaked through his underwear.

He swears he could cum from this alone.

"Don't!" He gasps and you pull away quickly, concern etched across your brow before you see his face clouded with pleasure, mouth hung open to let out breathy moans. "Please don't." He squeezes your hand in his. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

You melt, filled with the overwhelming need to make him cum by just playing with his nipples. How cute he'd look from having his tits played with.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" You coo.

Maybe another day though. Right now, you'll give him what he wants. What he's wanted for 'forever'.

"Shut up," he scowls though it's quickly wiped away when you pinch his nipple one more time, making him gasp.

Finally, you glance down at his sweats, tenting with his boner. "Well someone's excited for me." Seeing you stare at his crotch makes him excited. His already hard cock twitching in his pants. "You're so sensitive for me, aren't you, Min?"

He hates you so much, covering his face with the back of his arm. The fact that you're only telling the truth makes him want to hide his face into your chest again.

But you're too far away, and too focused on watching his boner through his pants, fascinated by how hard you've made him with so little.

"Please," he whispers, but the way you watch him, eyes full of hunger makes him throb even more.

Somehow, he gets a kick out of you just watching him, softly moaning at his eagerness, as he lets out a hushed whisper, "Please. Please y/n, don't tease me like this. I'm already horny." His legs spread open shamelessly.

"Awe, why? Can you not handle it?" You look up at him, at his blushing face and his needy eyes. You wanna kiss him so bad.

And so you do, getting close to his lips, your warm breath tickling him. Your hand runs over his clothed cock, teasing your nails gently over the head of his dick. His eyes widen as you begin to touch him over the fabric.

But your lips quickly silence him as you kiss him again. He moans into it, the feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking him lightly and your lips on his.

Your tongue pushes through his lips as you stroke him a few more times, squeezing him lightly in a way that has his back arching off the bed, pushing into your hand even more.

Panting, you pull back a little. "Such a good boy for me, Minnie." Before you're pinning his hips to the couch and looking at him one more time for conformation.

Then you pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift movement.

And then he does see stars as you slide yourself over his hips, grinding against his bare cock.

He thinks he tells you he loves you, that he worships you, that he adores you more than anyone on this planet. He thinks his hand squeezes yours so hard that you bring it to your lips, kissing his hand and telling him to relax. He thinks you grind against him slow and gingerly, watching to see his reactions.

Like he'd ever tell you to stop.

He'd rather die.

Shoot him in the head if he ever tell you to stop, because it sure as hell isn't him.

Again, he thinks. But he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything really right now.

His head is a mess of sensations and feelings, whines pouring from his mouth until you kiss him again and again and again.

Whispering that he's a good boy.

He's going to cum, he's going to cum.

Stars explode behind his eyes as they roll back and he isn't even inside of you yet.

And then you stop.

And he thinks tears might be rolling down his cheeks. He needs you, he needs you so fucking bad.

"Please, please, please." He pants, trying to roll his hips up against you, failing to find any contact as you sit back on your haunches, just out of his reach. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you so bad!"

You push sweaty hair out of his face, kissing the back of his hand one more time before you pull away entirely. He whimpers and you coo. "Be patient baby, just need to do something."

He watches blearily as you pull off your shorts and tries to calm his racing heart and heavy breaths as you roll a condom over his length.

"One more minute baby," you hush as you kiss him. "Are you ready?"

He nods desperately, of course he is. He's waiting for this for so long. He's wanted you for so long. He's going to go insane if you don't-

He gasps.

You groan as you slide down his length, slowly burying him inside of you until he bottoms out.

If he though grinding was intense, this was like nothing he could've ever imagined. His mouth gapes open, an endless stream of whiney moans and needy whimpers flooding into the room, feeding into you as you lift up and sink onto his again, groans of your own mixing with his.

He can't think anymore - he doesn't want to. He only wants to fall into the feeling of your walls squeezing around his dick, warm and wet as you ride him and the feeling of your hand once again finding his.

Whispering into his ear that you love him so much as you turn his head into mush

"I…I can-" Minho tries his best to talk, to tell you how good he feels. He really does, but whenever the thought comes to mind, it just gets cut off with the liquid heat coursing through his veins.

By the intense feeling of everything that is you.

He's an idiot for not asking you to fuck him sooner.

"Yeah, baby?" You chuckle breathlessly when he fails to complete his sentence. "You feel yourself inside?" You bring your interlaced fingers to your lower abdomen, "You feel it?"

All he can do is respond with a loud sob as he nods his head to your question, hips bucking up into you, desperate to chase the high quickly approaching ever since you've touched him.

He's not going to last much longer.

"You fit so well inside me," you murmur.

He's going to cum. Of this, he's sure.

"Please!' He hiccups, but he's not sure what he's pleading for. "P-please!" For more? For less? For something - anything to stave off the inevitable, he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want it to ever end.

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. You flutter kisses over his face, so softly compared to how you're fucking him into the couch so roughly.

"I love you, Minho."

"I love you so much!" He pants and squeezes your hand, his other grabbing onto the nape of your neck as he shoves your lips against his.

He's fucking beautiful, you think. Cute and pretty and beautiful, under you, falling apart.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your own name against you lips, pleading between sloppy kisses for you to let him cum, to let him cum for you. 

You show your approval with a collision of lips and teeth and tongue as he tips over the edge and you follow suit. He sobs as he cums, shivering violently as waves of pleasure roll over his body, his back lifting into an arch, pushing himself deep into you with a followed whine.

Each moan and whine are muffled by your tongue pushing into his mouth but his hips still grind as he pushes himself into overstimulation, whining until you have mind enough to still his hips.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, both catching your breath as you pull away, looking at him.

"Minho?" His eyes are shut and his cheeks are painted red. "You okay baby?"

He murmurs something you don't catch, but you don't tease as you push the hair out of his face, sweat-soaked and tired, kissing his forehead once.

You make a move to get up off of him but he only wraps his arms around you, holding you in place. "Don't leave," he whispers, looking up at you with tired eyes. "Just stay, please. For a little bit?"

His sleepy eyes make your heart skip a beat. "Who are you and where's my Minho?" You tease softly, but give in nonetheless.

"Fuck you." But his tone is with filled with anything but malice, as he nuzzles into you like a happy cat.

"I just did." You giggle.

"I love you so much." He mutters, kissing your shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."

"And I love you too."

a/n: I did it ^-^, who's proud of me!! also haven't written reader being penetrated in a looooong time, so if it's shit, oh well :p

You were new to this college, and it didn't help that the language was more than difficult to learn. You were nearly fluent, but knew nothing if the inside jokes or curse words, which was almost everyone your ages' dialogue.

You found it hard to make friends after the transfer, but one person was always kind to you.

His name was Han, and his English was perfect almost. He helped you out in certain course since you shared them, helping you with your pronunciation and all that jazz.

He eventually introduced you to his group of friends that had been together forever. Eight in total.

They were known as Strays. They couldn't be more different from one another. And to top it off, most of them knew English. Two were Australian, and one had lived in America for a short time.

Ironically near you, actually.

All of them were polite to you, but you kept your distance, not trying to force yourself in.

It had been months since you met them all, and it had become routine for you to sit with them in the cafeteria per Felix's request.

You still kept quiet, not confident on your Korean yet.

One day, you and Han were having a study session at your dorm, and got on the topic of crushes.

"If you had to pick between any of my friends, who would you want to fuck you?" He asked randomly, his face blank as if it were the most natural question.

You nearly choked on nothing, staring at him in shock.

"Excuse me?"

He looked at you, confused.

"I said, if one of my friends-"

"I know what you said, Han! But why?" You scoffed, jabbing at his shoulder playfully.

He pretended it hurt, sticking his tongue to you.

"Who do you think is hot? That's what I meant, y/n! Gosh," He grinned, watching your ears turn pink.

"What makes you think I like any of them?" You ask, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your textbook.

"Girl. It's a hypothetical question.." His eyes squint at you in silent question, and smile playing on his face.

You pause to think, unsure if you should tell him, knowing he was a blabber mouth. But you could easily say it was hypothetical just as Han did.

"Uhh, maybe....Hyunjin? Or-"

"I knew it! I knew you like him- wait did you just say 'or'?" He paused his prediction, wanting to hear who else you were going to say.

"I was gonna say, or Minho, Han."

You both sat there, looking at one another. He blinked while you shifted uncomfortably, not used to long periods of eye contact.

"Why him? Have either of you even said a word to one another?" He flicked at his pencil, holding it as if he were going to write.

"Not really...he's just gorgeous, you know?" You mutter, turning your attention back to your notebook. You felt judged despite them being friends. It almost seemed as if he were disappointed.

"Your right," you could hear the smile behind his words, making you look back up, returning it brightly.

"To be fair, though, we're all gorgeous, girly," He pitched his voice, flashing his undone nails making you cackle.

He lightened the mood knowing you weren't feeling right with how it was going. It was the main reason he was your best friend. He understood.

You both continued to joke and study, getting ready for the upcoming class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, the only class you don't have with Han is the class you have with Hyunjin and Minho, ironically.

Hyunjin always says hello, and Lee Know just nods at you with a smile, but today, neither of them did so.

You looked at them multiple times, noticing how they glanced at you some times. It made you nervous. You wondered if you did something wrong that offended them.

They never sat next to you, but today they seemed farther than usual.

Their shoulders raised higher than they should be, almost making it seem like they were out of breath.

You were about to text Han in question, but the teacher called you out.

"Y/n, please step outside for your phone call seeing as it is more important than class,"

You looked up, seeing everyone's head snap towards you. Your heart stopped, "No, I-" your words got caught in your throat as you cleared it loudly.

You felt your face flush.

Sighing in defeat, you grabbed your belongings and darted out the door, catching the way Lee Know and Hyunjin looked at you with what looked like pity.

You held your head low, sighing loudly when you reached the empty hallway.

You walked towards the girls restroom, stopping before the janitors closet, just hoping for some quiet.

It doesn't last long.

You heard a door snap from behind you, making you jump, turning to see if you were in anyone's way.

But it was just the two boys you had been worried about all day.

"You okay, y/ninnie? We saw you freeze in the back," Hyunjin observed, his hands in his pockets as he stood to your right, Minho on the other.

"Oh! Yeah, M'okay. Just want the world to swallow me right now," you chuckled, your shoulders deflating.

"Don't worry about that asshole, okay? Just giving you a hard time," Minho scoffed, staring at the door leading to his classroom.

"Why are you guys out here, though? He's going over the test on Monday." You wonder, not wanting them to fail because they were worried about you.

"We just wanted to see you," Hyunjin said, making you confused.

"See me? You see me every other day," you reply, tilting your head.

"We just have something on our minds I guess. You are the only person we can talk to about it though," Hyunjin grinned, nudging against Minho, who smiled wickedly next to him.

Your heart dropped.

"A little Birdy may have told us something you said from yesterday," Minho growled, bringing his arm to cage your left to the wall while Hyunjin did the same on the other side. You squeezed, making them chuckle.

"Hans a liar," you whispered, feeling your face warm up.

"Are you sure, baby? Cause we can give you what you want," Hyunjin groaned next to your ear, your body shivering in anticipation.

"I-I-" you stuttered, your breathing suddenly shallow as you try to clear your foggy mind.

"Relax," Minho whispered.

Thats when you heard a door handle turning behind you, the wall disappearing that held you, making you fall. But Hyunjin was behind you in seconds, gently bringing you to the tile floor in the closet, Minho closing and locking the door behind him.

You three had officially now moved out of the public eye, away from any onlookers.

"This okay, Princess?" Minho asks as he kneels next to you, your faces inches away.

You breathe out a shaky yes before he nods, looking at your lips then back to you.

He leans in, locking his lips with yours as he started gentle, quickly becoming more rough but the second.

You moaned into Minho as you felt another pair of hands fondling your clothes breasts.

Hyunjin took his time, not bothering to take of your shirt, hoping you wouldn't look like walking sex by the time they were done with you.

He wanted to feel your nipple between his teeth, but he told himself to wait. That they can have you properly after school.

Minho growled into the kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat as you panted into his mouth.

"Let me have a turn, hyung!" Hyunjin whined as he played with your clothes nubs.

Minho pulled himself off of you, grunting. You didn't like the loss if contact, grabbing at his forearms.

"Finally," Hyunjin chuckled, grabbing the back of your head to pull you into him.

His lips crashed against yours, the rhythm easy to control.

Lee Know took his chance to run his hand up your skirt, fisting the fabric of your underwear before pushing them aside.

He ran his fingers through your slick folds, moaning at the feeling of your excessive wetness.

He shoved his middle finger into your hole, pumping slowly as Hyunjin sucked the air from you.

You were both moaning, the kiss getting sloppier until it was just wet pecks.

"Feel good, baby?" Hyunjin asked as he listened to Minho add another finger, the slickness making a sinful sound in the quiet closet."S'good,"

Your head tilted back, Hyunjin takes his chance to nip at your collar bone, leaving a trail of marks. He tried keeping them close to your neckline, hoping you could hide them.

You grabbed at his hair with a moan, pulling it gently as Minho quickened his pace.

He groaned against your neck, teeth scraping against the purple spots now blossoming on your neck.

They both kept at it until you felt the knot forming in your stomach.

"There!" You plead, Lee Know hitting your g-spot roughly now with three fingers.

"Here, baby?" He teases, now hitting it harder.

You were writhing underneath them as you felt your wife snap, your high washing over you suddenly.

Your body shook from overstimulation, nearly crying as they pushed themselves from you after you came down.

"That felt so good," You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut.

They both smirked at one another.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Minho pushing his wet fingers into Hyunjins mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you.

The sight of them being intimate made your hole clench around nothing.

"Come over after school?" You asked them quietly, and try both nodded.

"we'll make you feel a lot more, I promise," Hyunjin smirked, pecking your lips gently. Minho did the same, helping you up.

AFAB

 "Noona," Minho whispered, grinding your pillow while you were at work. His hips made quick movements as his tail pressed down on his leaking cock. His back arched as his orgasm shuddered through his body. Tremors of pleasure deafened his hearing for a moment. Just enough for you to witness his orgasmic expression without him knowing. You stood by the door, hesitant to make a move. 

Minho opened his eyes and shifted back in shock. His cock dripped onto the pillow and his tail shot up straight. You smiled, "It's alright, kitty. We all have our needs except I didn't expect you to be using my pillow to get off, that's for sure," you chuckled, feeling bolder to stroke his ears. Minho purred at the stimulation, his cock throbbing against his torso. 

He huffed, shifting back into a human, "Please have me feel good?" he rasped, voice husky from the pleasure and lust. You cooed, pulling him onto your lap, "Noona's got you," you said, kissing his nape as you wrapped your hand around his cock. Minho groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You chuckled, pumping his cock at a languid pace. Your thumb rubbed the underside of his cockhead. 

Teasing that sensitive frenulum. Minho groaned, his thighs tensing up at the pleasure. You gulped, cock throbbing beneath your pants, "Such a pretty cock, kitty," you said, voice deep and breathy. Minho whimpered, moving your hand faster. You chuckled, picking up the pace to pump quicker, "Yes, yes. Noona knows," he teased, flattening his palm against his cockhead as you stroked his quick. 

Minho's eyes flew open, the pleasure surging through his sense, "Hah, hah, cumming," he gasped, squirming within your hold as ropes of white painted his torso. You cooed, messaging his swollen testicle, "Look how much milk you made, kitty," watching Minho's cock spurt out more and more semen as he messaged there. Minho mewled, licking your nape with his barbed tongue. You winced at the rough drag but you knew he needed something to ground himself with. Minho purred, slowly drifting off to sleep as you took care of him.

AMAB

 "Hyung," Minho whispered, grinding your pillow while you were at work. His hips made quick movements as his tail pressed down on his leaking cock. His back arched as his orgasm shuddered through his body. Tremors of pleasure deafened his hearing for a moment. Just enough for you to witness his orgasmic expression without him knowing. You stood by the door, hesitant to make a move. 

Minho opened his eyes and shifted back in shock. His cock dripped onto the pillow and his tail shot up straight. You smiled, "It's alright, kitty. We all have our needs except I didn't expect you to be using my pillow to get off, that's for sure," you chuckled, feeling bolder to stroke his ears. Minho purred at the stimulation, his cock throbbing against his torso. 

He huffed, shifting back into a human, "Please have me feel good?" he rasped, voice husky from the pleasure and lust. You cooed, pulling him onto your lap, "Hyung's got you," you said, kissing his nape as you wrapped your hand around his cock. Minho groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You chuckled, pumping his cock at a languid pace. Your thumb rubbed the underside of his cockhead. 

Teasing that sensitive frenulum. Minho groaned, his thighs tensing up at the pleasure. You gulped, cock throbbing beneath your pants, "Such a pretty cock, kitty," you said, voice deep and breathy. Minho whimpered, moving your hand faster. You chuckled, picking up the pace to pump quicker, "Yes, yes. Hyung knows," he teased, flattening his palm against his cockhead as you stroked his quick. 

Minho's eyes flew open, the pleasure surging through his sense, "Hah, hah, cumming," he gasped, squirming within your hold as ropes of white painted his torso. You cooed, messaging his swollen testicle, "Look how much milk you made, kitty," watching Minho's cock spurt out more and more semen as he messaged there. Minho mewled, licking your nape with his barbed tongue. You winced at the rough drag but you knew he needed something to ground himself with. Minho purred, slowly drifting off to sleep as you took care of him.