minnie's note: this is so baddie gf x nerdy obsessed bf
the forest floor is thick with moss and fallen leaves, muffling your footsteps as you lead the way.
behind you, wonwoo's breathing is heavy, labored—each step a battle won through sheer willpower
the walking stick sinks into the soft earth with every plant, his knuckles white around the worn wood.
the camping bag is strapped across his chest and back, bouncing with each uneven stride, but his eyes never leave you.
"you're doing so well," you call back over your shoulder, voice light and encouraging "just a little further, baby. I promise it's worth it."
he grunts in response, too winded for words. his thighs burn, his shoulders ache, and there's a stitch forming in his side that screams for him to stop.
but you're right there, swaying your hips as you walk, casting glances back at him with that mischievous sparkle in your eyes, and he'd crawl through hell itself if you asked him to
"how... much further?" he manages, pausing to brace himself against a tree.
you turn fully, walking backward, giving him a full view of your body in those tight hiking shorts. "not far. you can make it. i know you can."
he groans, pushes off the tree, and follows.
the sound hits him first—a distant rumble growing louder with every step.
then the air changes, cooling, carrying a fine mist that clings to his skin. amd then you stop, parting a curtain of hanging vines, and he sees it.
the waterfall cascades down a cliff of dark rock, plunging into a crystal-clear pool that catches the dappled sunlight like scattered diamonds.
the water is impossibly blue, surrounded by ferns and wildflowers, a secret paradise hidden in the heart of the forest.
"beautiful," he breathes.
But before he can say more, you're already moving.
your shirt comes off in one fluid motion, then your shorts you kick off your shoes, peel down your underwear, and stand before him completely bare, skin glowing in the golden light filtering through the canopy.
he forgets how to breathe.
you walk into the water without a backward glance, the surface rippling around your ankles, your knees, your thighs. The water reaches your waist, and you turn to face him, droplets clinging to your breasts, your nipples peaked from the cool temperature.
your hair floats around your shoulders like dark silk.
"you coming?" you ask, and your voice is honey and sin.
he drops everything. the stick clatters to the ground. the camping bag falls with a heavy thud. his clothes are torn off with none of the grace he usually possesses—shirt over his head, pants kicked away, underwear abandoned in the moss.
he wades in after you, the cold water a shock against his heated skin, but he doesn't care.
he reaches you in three long strides, and his hands find your waist, pulling you against him. he water sloshes around your bodies, and he's already leaning down, capturing your lips in a kiss that's equal parts desperation and devotion.
his tongue slides against yours, tasting the sweetness of your mouth, and you melt into him.
"I take it you like the surprise," you murmur against his lips.
ne laughs, breathless, pulling back just enough to look at you. Water streams down your face, your shoulders, your tits. The droplets catch on your nipples, and his gaze drops, hungry, appreciative.
"you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he says, voice rough. "and I'm going to make you feel so good for bringing me here."
his hand slides down your stomach, fingers trailing through the water, until they find the heat between your thighs.
he circles your clit with practiced ease, and you gasp, clutching his shoulders for support.
the water makes everything slick, sensitive, each touch amplified.
"wonwoo," you whimper.
"i know," he breathes, kissing your neck. "i've got you."
he sinks a finger inside you, then two, curling them just right. your head falls back, a moan escaping your lips, and he watches your face with rapt attention—the way your eyes flutter closed, the way your mouth parts, the way your hips roll against his hand.
"that's it," he coaxes. "let go for me. let the water carry you."
the combination of the cool water, his warm body pressed against yours, and the relentless rhythm of his fingers pushes you higher.
your orgasm builds slowly, a deep, rolling wave, and when it breaks, you cry out his name, your walls clenching around his fingers as he works you through it.
he holds you as you tremble, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your lips. When you finally open your eyes, he's smiling at you, soft and adoring.
"thank you," he whispers. "for this. for everything."
you smile back, still catching your breath. "we're not done yet."
later, as the sun begins to dip below the treeline, you emerge from the forest into a small clearing. and there it is—a rustic cabin, nestled among the pines, smoke curling from the chimney as if welcoming you home.
you turn to look at Wonwoo, and he's already looking at you, the same thought reflecting in both your eyes.
without a word, you take his hand. he laces his fingers through yours.
amd together, you walk toward the cabin, knowing exactly what kind of night awaits you both.
minnie's note: i would kill anyone just to get arrested by officer choi 👅💦
The knock on the door came at 2:13 a.m.
by the time officer choi seungcheol stepped inside your dimly lit living room, the tension between you was already thick enough to taste.
you sat on the wide leather couch, legs crossed, dark red silk robe barely holding itself together. every time you shifted, the fabric whispered against your skin and slipped a little further off your shoulder, teasing the soft swell of your breast.
seungcheol tried to remain professional. he really did. but his eyes kept dragging over your body.
he cleared his throat and pulled out a small notepad.
“mrs. ___,” he started, voice deep and steady, “i’m going to need you to walk me through tonight. from the beginning.”
you swirled the wine in your glass and smiled faintly.
“of course, officer. where would you like me to start?”
“your husband was found in his office just after midnight. blunt force trauma to the head. neighbors reported hearing raised voices around 9 p.m. can you tell me what that argument was about?”
you leaned back, letting the robe slip another inch.
“the usual. money. his wandering hands. my refusal to keep looking the other way while he embarrassed me in public. married people fight, officer choi. it doesn’t mean i killed him.”
seungcheol’s eyes narrowed. he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“no one said anything about killing. i just find it strange that you seem… calm. most wives would be crying. shaking. you’re drinking wine like it’s any other night.”
you tilted your head, letting your gaze linger on his broad shoulders and the way his uniform stretched across his chest.
“would tears make you feel better, officer? would they convince you i’m innocent?” you took a slow sip, then added softly, “or are you hoping i’m guilty?”
his jaw flexed. he looked away for a second, then back at you.
“where were you between 9 and 11 p.m.?”
“home. i took a long bath. poured myself this wine. tried to forget how loud he could get when he was angry.”
“alone?”
“unfortunately.” you uncrossed your legs slowly, the robe falling open just enough to show you were bare underneath. “very alone.”
seungcheol’s gaze dropped. he stared longer than he should have, throat working as he swallowed. when his eyes finally lifted, they were darker.
“the statue in his office… the one missing a piece. you know anything about that?”
you smiled sweetly.
“it was ugly anyway. he liked expensive, ugly things.”
the room felt hotter. the grandfather clock ticked louder.
seungcheol stood up and walked closer, stopping just in front of you.
“you’re not afraid of me at all, are you?”
“should i be?” you rose slowly until your bodies were nearly touching. “or should i be more afraid of how much you keep looking at me instead of asking real questions?”
he exhaled sharply.
“you’re playing a dangerous game, mrs. ___.”
you reached up and lightly brushed a finger along his tie.
“i think you like it.”
that was all it took.
seungcheol grabbed your waist and pulled you against him, mouth crashing into yours with months of pent-up frustration.
his hands were rough, sliding under the silk robe and pushing it off your shoulders until it pooled at your feet. he groaned at the feeling of your bare skin, palming your ass and squeezing your breast as he walked you backwards toward the couch.
“fuck… you’ve been teasing me this whole time,” he growled against your mouth. “sitting here like a fucking dream while i’m supposed to be investigating you.”
you moaned softly, tugging at his belt.
“then investigate me properly, officer.”
he cursed and pushed you down onto the couch. in seconds he was on his knees, spreading your thighs wide and burying his face between them. his tongue dragged slowly from your entrance to your clit, tasting every inch of you before he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth.
“officer—” you gasped, back arching, fingers burying in his dark hair.
he ate you like a starving man — messy, greedy, and relentless. two thick fingers pushed deep inside you, curling against that spot that made you see stars while his tongue flicked fast and hard over your clit. your thighs shook around his head.
he didn’t stop even when your moans turned into broken cries, sucking harder until you came hard on his tongue, soaking his mouth and chin.
but he kept going, licking you through it, drawing out every shiver until you were whimpering.
when he finally pulled back, his lips were glossy. he stood up, quickly unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants down. his cock sprang free — thick, heavy, and leaking. he stroked it slowly while staring down at your dripping pussy.
“turn around. bend over the couch.”
you obeyed, gripping the back of the couch as he lined himself up. he rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down your folds, teasing your clit until you were pushing back against him desperately.
then he thrust in deep in one stroke, stretching you open.
“fuck— so tight,” he groaned, gripping your hips hard. “this pussy is going to ruin me.”
he started fucking you with deep, powerful strokes, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the mansion. every thrust made your breasts bounce and pulled filthy moans from your throat.
he leaned over you, lips brushing your ear.
“tell me the truth,” he rasped, still pounding into you. “you killed him, didn’t you? smashed that statue over his head while he was yelling at you?”
you clenched hard around his cock.
“yes—” you moaned. “and i’d do it again.”
“fuck,” seungcheol snarled, slamming into you harder. “such a dirty little murderer. letting the cop investigating you fuck you raw the same night.”
his hand slipped around to rub your clit in tight circles. your second orgasm hit you like lightning — legs shaking violently, pussy pulsing around his thick length as you cried out his name.
seungcheol followed with a deep groan, burying himself to the hilt and filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum. he kept thrusting through it, pushing his release deeper inside you.
for a long moment, only heavy breathing and the ticking clock filled the room.
he stayed buried inside you, chest pressed to your back, pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder.
“this never happened,” he whispered, voice rough.
you smiled and squeezed around him.
“of course not, officer… i have no idea how my husband died.”
he chuckled darkly and kiss your shoulder.
“liar.” he slowly pulled out, watching his cum drip down your thighs with dark fascination. then he turned you around and kissed you again, slower, deeper.
his hand gently cupped your jaw.
“you know i’ll have to come back tomorrow for a follow-up.”
you ran your fingers through his messy hair and smiled.
“good. i’ll be waiting… with more wine and fewer answers.”
seungcheol’s eyes darkened again as he tucked himself back into his pants.
“dangerous woman.”
you leaned in and whispered against his lips,
“you have no idea, officer choi.”
The knock on your door came again the next night.
you weren’t expecting him so soon. your heart jumped when you opened the door to find officer choi seungcheol standing there in the same uniform, looking more tired and more dangerous than the night before.
“officer,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in. “back already?”
he didn’t answer right away. instead, he stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it. his eyes scanned the hallway before landing on you — dark red silk robe, bare feet, wine glass in hand like always.
“we need to talk,” he said, voice low. “now.”
you led him upstairs to the master bedroom, the one you used to share with your husband.
the room still carried the faint scent of his cologne, which made your stomach twist. seungcheol followed you silently, his heavy footsteps echoing behind you.
once inside, you turned to face him.
“what’s wrong? you look… different tonight.”
seungcheol reached into his jacket and pulled out a clear evidence bag. inside was the rest of the broken marble statue — the larger piece you’d hidden in the garden yesterday.
your blood ran cold.
“how did you—”
“i went back to the scene this morning for a second sweep,” he said, placing the bag on the dresser. “found this buried under some soil. you didn’t do a good enough job hiding it.”
you stared at the bag, shock freezing your tongue for a few seconds. your fingers tightened around the wine glass.
“are you… arresting me?” you whispered, voice barely audible.
seungcheol looked at you for a long moment. then he walked over to the marble fireplace in the corner of the bedroom, took the statue piece out of the bag, and smashed it hard against the stone hearth. it shattered into smaller fragments.
your lips parted in disbelief.
“seungcheol… what are you doing?”
he didn’t stop. he gathered the pieces and threw them into the fire that was already crackling low. the marble began to blacken as the flames licked over it.
“i’m helping you,” he said simply, turning to face you. his expression was unreadable. “no fingerprints. no weapon. no case.”
you took a shaky step back, heart hammering.
“why? you’re a cop. this could end your career. why would you risk everything for me?”
he walked closer until he was right in front of you. his hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip.
“because when i stood in that office yesterday and saw the way he had destroyed everything around him… i knew what kind of man he was. and when i looked at you — calm, beautiful, relieved — i knew what kind of woman you are.” his voice dropped. “you survived him. and i’m not going to let the system punish you for it.”
you were genuinely shocked. your eyes stung with unexpected tears as you searched his face.
“you believe me? just like that?”
“i believe you,” he murmured. “and i want you. even if it makes me a terrible cop.”
the weight of his words hit you hard. you grabbed his uniform shirt and pulled him into a fierce kiss, pouring all your shock, relief, and hunger into it.
seungcheol groaned against your mouth, backing you up until your legs hit the edge of the large king bed.
“i still can’t believe you’re doing this for me,” you whispered between kisses, fingers frantically undoing his buttons.
“believe it.” he pushed the silk robe off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
his hands roamed over your naked body, squeezing your breasts, sliding down your waist. “now get on the bed.”
you climbed onto the mattress, watching hungrily as he stripped off his uniform.
his body was even better than you imagined — broad chest, strong arms, thick thighs, and a heavy cock already hard and leaking for you.
seungcheol crawled over you, spreading your legs wide. he kissed down your body slowly, taking his time to suck on your nipples until they were swollen and sensitive, then moving lower until his mouth hovered over your pussy.
“so wet already,” he groaned. “all this because a cop is helping you cover up murder?”
“yes,” you moaned, hips lifting toward his mouth.
he licked a long, slow stripe up your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly while he ate you like he was addicted.
your moans filled the bedroom, getting louder as he worked you closer and closer.
“seungcheol— fuck— i’m going to—”
“cum for me, baby.”
your orgasm crashed over you hard. your back arched, thighs shaking around his head as you cried out his name. he kept licking you through it, gentler now, until you were trembling and breathless.
he moved up your body and kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you felt the thick head of his cock rubbing against your soaked entrance.
“look at me,” he ordered.
your eyes met his as he slowly pushed inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. the feeling was overwhelming — so full, so deep.
“fuck… you feel perfect,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck.
he started moving, deep and steady at first, then harder. the bed creaked beneath you as he fucked you into the mattress, one hand pinning your wrist above your head while the other gripped your thigh.
“tell me again,” he rasped between thrusts. “tell me you’re glad he’s gone.”
“i’m glad,” you moaned, legs wrapping around his waist. “i’m so fucking glad. and i’m yours now.”
seungcheol’s hips snapped harder, pounding into you with wet, filthy sounds.
“that’s right. you’re mine. no one else touches you. no one else investigates you. just me.”
your second orgasm hit you suddenly, pussy clenching tight around his cock as you gasped his name.
seungcheol groaned loudly, thrusting deep a few more times before he came hard inside you, filling you with thick, hot spurts.
he collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily, skin slick with sweat.
after a while, he rolled to the side and pulled you against his chest, still buried inside you.
“you’re really not going to turn me in?” you whispered, tracing a finger over the tiny scar on his eyebrow.
seungcheol kissed your forehead.
“no. we’re going to make this look like a break-in gone wrong. and you’re going to play the grieving widow perfectly.” he smirked. “think you can handle that?”
you smiled against his chest, squeezing around his cock.
“i’ve been playing roles my whole marriage. this one will be easy… especially with you helping me rehearse every night.”
he chuckled darkly, already hardening again inside you.
“then we should practice more. starting now.”
you kissed him slowly, whispering against his lips,
“yes, officer… please investigate me all night long.”
genre: idol!wonwoo, nonidol!reader, mention of nudes, kisses, menace reader
word count: 755~
the sun was blazing over the resort pool, but it did nothing to warm the sulky cloud hanging over you.
you lay stretched out on the sunbed in your sleek black bikini, the one that hugged every curve like it was custom-made for trouble. your phone rested on your stomach, screen dark for the tenth time that hour.
wonwoo’s last text had been a dry “busy with soundcheck, miss you” four hours ago.
sohee dropped into the lounger beside you, cocktail in hand, sunglasses perched on her head.
“okay, spill. you’ve been staring at that phone like it personally betrayed you for three days straight. what did your fiancé do this time?”
you sighed, swirling the straw in your own drink.
“he’s just… short. one-word answers. voice notes that end in two seconds. i know the tour’s exhausting, but I’m starting to feel like an afterthought.”
sohee smirked, that dangerous little smile she got when an evil plan was forming.
“men are so predictable. especially when they’re away and think they have everything under control.”
she leaned in, lowering her voice even though no one was around. “send him a picture. right now. you in this bikini. view once. make it impossible for him to ignore.”
you blinked. “sohee—”
“trust me. he’ll either reply like a normal human or book the next flight. probably both. they act all cool until you remind them what’s waiting at home.”
you chewed your lip, heat crawling up your neck that had nothing to do with the sun.
the bikini did look lethal on you. after a moment of hesitation, you angled your phone, took a few shots arched back, one hand in your hair, sultry half-smile and picked the best one.
View once. Sent.
you tossed the phone aside and tried to act normal. sohee just cackled and clinked her glass against yours.
fifteen minutes later, your phone rang.
wonwoo’s name flashed on the screen.
you answered with a lazy grin. “hello, stranger.”
“baby” his voice was low, a little breathless. “send it again.”
you laughed softly. “oh? the picture’s gone already? That’s crazy.”
“i know you did it on purpose.” He sounded equal parts amused and desperate. “come on. just once more.”
you sat up, enjoying this far too much. “you barely texted me for days, wonwoo. short replies, no calls… and now you’re demanding pictures?” you made a thoughtful hum. “i think compensation is in order.”
“name it.”
your smile widened. “kisses. through the phone, until i say stop.”
there was a half-second pause—then the soft, unmistakable sound of him kissing the speaker. once. teice. slow, deliberate, almost embarrassingly sincere.
he kept going, murmuring between each one, “miss you… want you here… love you…” in that deep, velvet voice that always melted you.
you bit your lip, cheeks burning. “more, convince me you’re sorry.”
he obeyed like a well-trained puppy, kissing the phone again and again without complaint.
on the other side of the world, in the green room backstage, mingyu and seungkwan froze mid-conversation.
wonwoo was sitting on the couch, phone held close to his face, eyes half-closed, repeatedly pressing his lips to the screen with soft little sounds.
mingyu’s water bottle stopped halfway to his mouth.
seungkwan’s eyes went comically wide. “hyung… are you… making out with your phone right now?”
wonwoo didn’t even flinch, too focused. “Shh.”
your voice suddenly floated out from the speaker, playful and teasing. “Keep going and maybe I’ll send you the bikini one again… plus a couple without the bikini this time.”
mingyu choked.
seungkwan let out a scandalized squeak before dissolving into laughter, nearly falling off the arm of the couch. “nude pics?! Yah, keon Wonwoo! in the green room!”
Wonwoo finally lowered the phone, ears bright red, but the tiniest smirk played on his lips. He looked completely unbothered by his members howling at him.
“laugh all you want,” he said calmly, already typing something back to you. “at least I have a fiancée who sends me pictures like that.”
mingyu wheezed. “he’s not even ashamed!”
seungkwan clutched his stomach. “hhe stoic wonwoo hyung is down bad. Someone take a picture—wait, no, he might kiss that one too!”
wonwoo just shook his head, phone already ringing again as he stood up to find a quieter corner. he didn’t care that he was the group’s laughing stock for the rest of the day.
he had you waiting on the other end of the line.
and he was booking that flight the second the tour schedule allowed.
pairings: baseball player!dokyeom x sports anchor!reader
genre: fluff, secret dating, kissing
word count: 880
minnie's note: inspired from the lovely couple jasprit bumrah and sanjana ganesan 🫶🏻💗
mid-summer heat sticks to everything like it owns the place.
the stadium is half-empty now, but the air is still thick with the ghost of a thousand cheers and the smell of expensive popcorn. the lights are still blazing too bright for how late it is—the kind of artificial brightness that makes everything feel a little unreal, like the win might just disappear if you blink too hard.
you adjust your mic even though it’s already perfectly fine. it’s just something to do with your hands to keep the nerves from showing.
“we’re live in twenty,” your producer’s voice crackles through your earpiece, sharp and professional. “and y/n—try not to smile at him too much this time.”
you breathe out a quiet laugh, your eyes scanning the field. “i don’t smile at him differently.”
it’s a lie, and you both know it.
across the dirt, dokyeom is still in full uniform, the white fabric stained with grass and sweat. there’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek that looks like it belongs there, a badge of honor from his walk-off slide. he’s laughing with his teammates, throwing an arm around the catcher’s neck, but then he looks up.
his eyes find yours across the distance, and just like that, the rest of the stadium fades into a blur of grey seats and green grass.
he jogs over. of course he does. he never makes you wait.
“anchor y/n,” he greets, slightly out of breath. his grin is already too bright, more blinding than the stadium floodlights.
“player dokyeom,” you reply smoothly, falling into the rhythm of your shared secret. “please try not to embarrass me on live tv.”
he leans in just an inch—close enough that you can smell the salt of his skin and the faint scent of his laundry detergent. “no promises.”
you give him a warning look, the one that usually makes interns scramble. he just looks delighted by it.
“we go live in ten,” you say, checking the camera op.
“i know,” he says, and the way he says it makes it feel like a challenge.
the red light on the camera flickers to life.
your voice shifts instantly—steady, warm, practiced. the persona you’ve spent years building.
“good evening from a packed stadium where tonight’s game ended in dramatic fashion,” you begin, turning slightly toward him. “i’m here with lee dokyeom, who secured the win with a ninth-inning walk-off home run.”
you angle the mic toward him, keeping a professional distance that feels like a mile. “take us through that final at-bat. what were you seeing out there?”
he takes the mic from your hand, his fingers brushing yours for a fraction of a second. he doesn't look at the camera. he doesn't look at the thousands of people watching at home.
he looks at you.
“honestly?” he says casually, his voice dropping into that rich, warm tone he only uses when the world isn't listening. “i was just thinking i didn’t want the night to end too early.”
the crowd noise swells somewhere behind you, a distant roar, but it feels a million miles away. you keep your expression professional. barely.
“that’s… not very baseball-focused,” you reply, trying to steer him back to the script.
he hums, a low sound in his chest. “it is for me.”
a beat. the silence stretches a second too long for a live broadcast.
you continue, your voice steadying itself through sheer willpower. “you’ve been on a twelve-game hitting streak. any changes in your routine lately?”
he nods slowly, looking thoughtful, though the mischief in his eyes gives him away.
“yeah,” he says. “i look up before every inning now.”
your grip on the mic tightens slightly. you shouldn't ask. you know exactly what he’s doing.
“any particular reason?”
his gaze flickers—just for a second—to the press box high above the stands. then it snaps back to your face.
“there’s a view up there,” he says lightly, “that helps me focus.”
you should move on. you should talk about the standings or the next road trip. you don't.
“must be a nice view,” you say carefully.
his smile softens into something real, something private. “yeah. the best.”
and something about the way he says it makes your heart feel loud in your own ears, drumming a rhythm that has nothing to do with the heat.
“and we’ll leave it there,” you finish smoothly, looking back to the lens. “back to the studio.”
the second the red light cuts—everything changes.
the tension in your shoulders snaps. dokyeom steps closer immediately, entering your personal bubble without hesitation. “did i say something wrong?”
you glare at him, but there’s no real heat in it. “you basically flirted with a national broadcast audience, lee dokyeom.”
he blinks, looking far too innocent for a man who just dismantled your composure. “i did?”
“you said you look at the press box. everyone knows that’s where i sit for the first eight innings.”
he pauses, then smiles like he’s guilty on purpose. “oh. that.”
you sigh, looking away to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “the internet is going to be insane.”
“let it,” he says easily.
you shake your head, flipping through your notes even though the ink is blurring before your eyes. “you’re unbelievable.”
“you’re still coming after this, right?” he asks. the playfulness is gone, replaced by a quiet hope that always gets to you.
you glance up. he’s already watching you like he knows the answer, like he can see right through the blazer and the microphone to the girl who’s been pining for him since spring training.
“your ‘media obligations’?” you tease.
“very serious ones,” he says solemnly, though his eyes are dancing. “highly confidential. involves food. maybe a milkshake.”
you try not to smile. you fail a little.
“…yeah,” you say. “i’m coming.”
his expression softens instantly, his whole body relaxing. “good,” he says quietly.
there’s a beat where neither of you move away. the stadium noise hums around you, distant and irrelevant. the cleanup crew is starting to move through the aisles, but it feels like you're under a private spotlight.
he shifts slightly closer.
“you know,” he starts, his voice lower now, shadowed by the brim of his cap. “i was going to wait until we weren’t surrounded by cameras and people and… all of this.”
you blink, your breath catching. “dokyeom—”
but he’s already stepping in. one hand lifts, careful, his fingers grazing the line of your jaw—a question asked without words. you don't pull away.
and then he kisses you.
it’s quick. soft. it tastes like the salt of the game and the lingering sweetness of the sports drink he was chugging minutes ago. it’s more certain than surprising, like he’s been holding it back for a long time and just finally decided the world could wait.
when he pulls back, he’s still close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips.
“sorry,” he says immediately, though he looks like the happiest man in the league. “i just—i’ve been wanting to do that since the third inning.”
you stare at him, your professional image lying in pieces at your feet. then you exhale a laugh that ruins whatever is left of it.
“you are impossible,” you say.
his grin returns, brighter than the stadium lights, brighter than the win.
“yeah,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “but i’m your impossible.”
your phone buzzes in your pocket again—probably the producer, probably a hundred notifications about the 'press box' comment. the world is trying to interrupt something it already lost control of.
you don't look at it yet.
because for once, the cameras are off, the lights don't matter—and he’s still right there.
nerdybf!wonwoo who sends you 10-minute long voice notes while you’re at your nail appointment, breaking down the complex lore of a game he just finished because "you’re the only one who actually listens to my theories."
nerdybf!wonwoo who has a very specific, ritualistic way of making coffee in the morning by using scales and thermometers like a chemistry experiment, just to make sure your iced americano is "mathematically perfect."
nerdybf!wonwoo who keeps your favorite snacks stashed in his tote bag at all times because he knows you’re "too cool" to carry a lunchbox but you get "hangry" exactly at 3pm
nerdybf!wonwoo who gets flustered when you call him your "personal wikipedia" because he accidentally went on a 20 minute talk about the architectural history of the campus library.
nerdybf!wonwoo who is a total type A planner who handles every single travel detail, from the color-coded spreadsheets and flight check-ins to the hotel bookings—just so you can show up for the vibes, look stunning, and never have to worry about a thing because he’s already thought of everything for you.
nsfw
nerdybf!wonwoo whom you regretted not giving him a chance early on cause he turns into a whole different person once the glasses come off, that deep voice drops even lower when he’s murmuring filthy things against your neck.
nerdybf!wonwoo whose gaming sessions turn into you on your knees under his desk, giving him a head, while he tries (and fails) to keep his voice steady on call with the members. “y-yeah, i’m still here… no, everything’s fine—”
nerdybf!wonwoo after a loss, wonwoo pins your face to the mattress, ass up high. he spanks your cheeks raw, tongue-fucks your puckered hole sloppy, then rams his cock balls-deep into your pussy, growling filthy commands as he floods you with cum, plugging it shut
nerdybf!wonwoo who loves shower sex where you soap up his lean muscles, dropping to your knees to suck his cock sloppy and deep, water cascading over you. he threads fingers in your wet hair, thrusting until he cums down your throat, then eats your pussy against the tiles till your legs shake while groping your soapy tits
nerdybf!wonwoo who is a post-exam freakout where blindfolds you with his tie, cuffs your hands behind with zip ties from his desk drawer. he edges your nipples with ice cubes, then vibrates your pussy till you're sobbing, finally mounting you doggy-style, his cock bullying brutally till he breeds your spasming hole.
warnings: themes of jealousy and possessiveness leading to intense, consensual rough sex (doggy-style, spanking, hair-pulling).
minnie's note: made this in a hurry so idk if y'all will like it
pt 1
dating seungcheol in secret turned your school days into a thrilling game of hide-and-seek, every stolen glance and whispered word laced with the risk of getting caught.
he treated you like you were his most precious secret, always finding ways to show his affection without drawing eyes.
in the mornings, he'd brush past you in the crowded hallway, his fingers grazing the small of your back just long enough to send a shiver up your spine, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, 'missed you already.'
during lunch, he'd slip into the empty storage room behind the gym, pulling you in for a quick, hungry kiss that left your lips swollen and your knees weak, his hands roaming under your blouse to squeeze your tits firmly before he had to pull away.
he was attentive in the subtlest ways—leaving notes in your lesson plans, like 'Wear that skirt today; it's my favorite,' or showing up at your classroom door with coffee, pretending it was just a friendly gesture for the staff.
but his eyes always lingered, dark and possessive, tracing the way your hips swayed as you walked or how your blouse clung to your curves.
seungcheol made you feel desired, worshipped even, in the quiet moments.
after hours, when the school emptied out, he'd drive you to his place a few blocks away, where the real indulgence began.
he'd cook for you—simple pasta or grilled meat—feeding you bites from his fork while his free hand stroked your thigh under the table, inching higher until you were squirming.
sex with him was intense, passionate; he'd take his time undressing you, kissing every inch of exposed skin, sucking on your nipples until they hardened into peaks, then flipping you over to eat your pussy from behind, his tongue lapping at your folds while his fingers dug into your ass cheeks.
But keeping it hidden added an edge, a constant buzz of excitement mixed with caution.
you both knew the rules: no public displays, no lingering too long in each other's spaces.
he'd interrupt your classes with flimsy excuses, like fixing the projector, just to stand close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his cock twitching against your hip when no one was looking.
in return, you'd wander by the gym during his coaching sessions, pretending to drop off paperwork, catching his eye across the court as he barked orders at the team, his gaze promising payback later.
one afternoon, the tension snapped in the most unexpected way.
class had just ended, the students shuffling out with their backpacks slung over shoulders, chatter filling the air about weekend plans.
you were at your desk, packing up papers and grading pens, your mind already drifting to seungcheol's text from earlier:
[cheol <3 🍒]: come over after. I need you.
a soft smile tugged at your lips as you zipped your bag.
that's when one of your bolder students, a girl with sharp eyes and a knowing smirk, lingered by the door.
'hey, miss,' she said, tilting her head. 'Are you and coach choi, like, dating or something? you two are always talking, and he shows up here a lot.'
your heart slammed against your ribs. Heat flooded your face as you forced a nervous chuckle, waving it off.
'oh, no, nothing like that. We're just friends—colleagues, you know? He helps out with stuff sometimes.'
the words tumbled out too quickly, your voice pitching higher than usual.
she shrugged, unconvinced, but finally left, the door clicking shut behind her.
you exhaled shakily, shoving the last of your things into your bag 'friends'
the lie tasted bitter, but it was necessary. What you didn't expect was the immediate buzz of your phone—
[cheol <3 🍒]: gym. now.
by the time you slipped into his office off the locker room, the school was nearly deserted, the distant echo of a janitor's mop the only sound.
he was there, leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, that jaw set in a way that made your stomach flip
"friends, huh?' he said, voice low and edged with something dark, jealous.
before you could stammer an explanation, he closed the distance, grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the door.
'my place. we're finishing this conversation.'
the drive was silent, thick with unspoken heat, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he glanced at you, eyes burning.
the second the apartment door shut behind you, he was on you. no preamble, no gentle buildup—his hands gripped your hips, spinning you around and marching you to the bedroom.
you barely had time to kick off your shoes before he shoved you forward onto the bed, your face pressing into the soft give of his pillow, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. 'friends,' he growled, yanking your skirt up over your ass, exposing your panties.
his palm cracked against one cheek, the sting making you gasp, your pussy clenching in response.
'say it again,' he demanded, hooking his fingers into your underwear and ripping them down your thighs in one rough pull.
you felt the cool air hit your bare skin, your arousal already slick between your legs.
he didn't wait—his belt buckle clinked, pants unzipping, and then the thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance, teasing your wet folds.
'we're just—' you started, but the words dissolved into a moan as he thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
your walls stretched around his girth, the burn delicious as he filled you completely. 'fuck,' you whimpered, fingers clutching the sheets.
'wrong answer.' seungcheol's hips snapped forward, pounding into you with jealous force, each slam driving his cock deep into your pussy, the slap of his skin against your ass echoing in the room.
he leaned over you, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other bracing on the mattress as he rutted relentlessly.
'you think I like hearing that shit? that some kid can see what's mine and you deny it?'
his pace was punishing, cock dragging against your inner walls with every withdraw and plunge, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
you pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, your tits bouncing under your blouse as sweat beaded on your skin.
'seungcheol—ah—I'm sorry,' you gasped, but he only fucked you harder, his balls slapping against your clit with each drive.
'you're mine,' he grunted, releasing your hair to slap your ass again, the red mark blooming under his palm.
he reached around, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles, making your thighs tremble.
the pressure built fast, coiling in your core as he railed you, his cock throbbing inside your clenching heat. 'say it.'
'yours—fuck, I'm yours!' the orgasm crashed over you, pussy spasming around him, milking his length as you cried out into the pillow.
he didn't stop, pounding through your release, his own breaths ragged.
with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself and came, hot spurts of cum flooding your insides, marking you as he groaned your name.
he collapsed over you, still buried deep, pressing kisses to your shoulder. 'no more 'friends' bullshit,' he murmured, voice softening. 'got it?'
you nodded, spent and sated, a lazy smile curving your lips. 'got it.'
and just like that, the secret felt even more intoxicating, the jealousy only fueling the fire between you.
warnings: scenario featuring explicit sexual content, including graphic descriptions of oral sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, and power dynamics in a workplace setting.
minnie's note: first smutttt kindaaa nervousss 🫦
pt 2
you remember the exact moment you met choi seungcheol.
it was the back-to-school staff mixer in the teachers' lounge, the air buzzing with awkward small talk and the scent of cheap coffee.
you were fumbling with a stack of syllabi, your tight button-up shirt straining just a little across your chest as you tried to balance everything.
that's when he appeared, tall, broad-shouldered, with that easy smile that lit up his sharp features.
"need a hand?" he'd asked, his voice deep and warm, already reaching out to take the papers before you could protest.
his biceps flexed under his fitted polo, veins tracing lines down his forearms, and you felt your cheeks heat up from that second, you were hooked.
seungcheol couldn't stop thinking about you either.
you were so damn sweet, the way you'd smile at the kids in the hallway, your voice soft and encouraging during lessons.
But god, the way you looked? That pencil skirt hugging your hips, accentuating the perfect curve of your round ass every time you walked past his office.
And that shirt? those buttons looked like they were fighting for their lives over your full breasts.
he caught himself staring more times than he cared to admit, imagining what it'd be like to peel it all off you.
he started finding excuses to interrupt your classes it was always something "important," like delivering a memo from the principal or checking on the AV equipment in your room.
one afternoon, midway through your poetry unit, the door creaked open, and there he was, leaning against the frame with a clipboard in hand.
"sorry to barge in," he'd say, his eyes lingering on you a beat too long, "but we need to talk about the upcoming field day setup."
The class giggled, but you? Your heart raced, that crush blooming hotter every time he showed up.
You knew it wasn't just work, he'd linger after, chatting about nothing, his presence filling the room like heat.
And the heavy stuff? Forget it.You never carried anything more than a lunchbox around him.
Boxes of books for the library? He'd swoop in, muscles bulging as he lifted them effortlessly.
Art supplies for the supply closet? Same deal, his abs tightening under his shirt as he hauled them away, leaving you breathless and thanking him profusely.
"can't have you straining yourself," he'd wink, and you'd swear his gaze dropped to your chest, making your nipples harden against the fabric.
your crush deepened one rainy tuesday after gym class.
You were rushing to your car when you realized you'd left your umbrella in the sports locker room, must've set it down during a quick chat with the janitor.
slipping inside to grab it, you froze. there was Seungcheol, fresh from a workout, towel slung low on his hips, water droplets tracing the ridges of his chiseled abs. his biceps flexed as he dried his hair, and lower... fuck, the outline of his thick cock pressed against the towel.
He turned, catching your wide-eyed stare, but instead of embarrassment, he just grinned.
"looking for something?" your face burned as you stammered an excuse and bolted, but that image haunted your dreams, his body, all power and heat, begging to be touched.
in all built to that one day after school. the building was quiet, most staff gone for the weekend.
You were in the storage room off the gym, sorting through old PE equipment for a lost volleyball, when the door clicked shut behind you. seungcheol.
"thought i heard someone in here," he said, stepping closer, his eyes dark with intent.
the air thickened, months of stolen glances and accidental brushes exploding into something real.
You didn't know who moved first, maybe you, rising on your toes, or him, cupping your face, but suddenly his lips were on yours, hot and demanding.
He kissed like he coached: intense, unrelenting. His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to squeeze your breast through the shirt, thumb circling your nipple until it peaked hard.
you moaned into his mouth, grinding against him, feeling his cock harden against your thigh.
"fuck, you've been killing me," he growled, breaking away to yank open your buttons. They popped, revealing your lacy bra, and he groaned, eyes glazing over as he shoved it down.
your breasts spilled free, heavy, soft, nipples begging for attention. seungcheol stared, practically drooling, before diving in, sucking one into his mouth, tongue lashing the sensitive bud while his hand kneaded the other.
you arched, fingers tangling in his hair, but he wasn't done. he spun you around, pressing your chest against a stack of mats, hiking up your skirt.
the cool air hit your ass, and he palmed it roughly, spreading your cheeks.
"This ass... been dreaming of bending you over," he muttered, freeing his cock. It slapped against your skin, thick, veined, already leaking precum.
he rubbed the head along your soaked pussy, teasing your clit before thrusting in deep.
you cried out, walls clenching around his girth as he pounded into you from behind.
each snap of his hips drove him balls-deep, his abs slapping your ass with wet smacks.
he gripped your hips, bruising, fucking you hard and fast, grunting with every plunge. "So tight... take it, yeah?"
your breasts bounced with the force, nipples scraping the mats, pleasure coiling tight in your core.
he reached around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles that made you shatter—orgasm ripping through you, pussy pulsing around his cock.
seungcheol followed with a roar, slamming in one last time, cum flooding your insides in hot spurts.
he held you there, both panting, his forehead against your back as he softened inside you.
but work waited. he pulled out gently, helping you straighten your skirt, rebuttoning what he could of your shirt with a sheepish grin.
"we should... finish up here," he said, voice husky.
you nodded, legs shaky, and together you sorted the equipment, stealing kisses between tasks.
by the time you left, it was official, you'd be interrupting each other's "classes" a lot more often.
househusband!mingyu who didn’t even realize how burnt out he was from his boring 9–5 until the day you walked in, glowing, talking about your promotion and that insane salary bump like it was just another update
househusband!mingyu who leaves little notes around the house :((
“don’t skip lunch”
“drink water pls!!!”
“i’m proud of you <3”
and he acts like it’s no big deal but he spent way too long making the handwriting neat
househusband!mingyu who wakes up before you, makes breakfast, packs your lunch with little notes like “eat well baby, I’m so proud of you <3 ” and kisses you goodbye at the door like a 1950s housewife.
househusband!mingyu who has your dinner ready the second you walk through the door. sometimes he meets you at the door with your favorite slippers in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, leaning down to kiss you like he’s been waiting all day (because he has).
househusband!mingyu who is so proud of your career is almost embarrassing. he keeps a little photo of you in your office wear in his wallet and shows it to the ahjumma at the market like “look at my successful spouse.”
househusband!mingyu who lowkey loves when you buy him expensive things with your money. new watch? “Baby you didn’t have to…” Designer apron? Wears it every single day and tells everyone his spouse got it for him.
nsfw
househusband!mingyu who loves when you’re still in your work clothes and he’s completely naked or just wearing an apron. something about ruining his neat little housewife look while you’re still dressed like the boss makes him leak all over himself.
househusband!mingyu who is loud. whiny. beggy. “please, want you so bad… been hard since lunch thinking about you…” while he’s rutting against your thigh like a desperate puppy.
househusband!mingyu who loves when you get a little mean and use him. push him down on the couch, ride his face, tell him he’s just your pretty househusband whose only job is to make you cum. he moans so loud at the degradation it’s almost pathetic.
househusband!mingyu who is obbsessed with your tits in work shirts. the second the buttons are open he’s sucking and biting as if his life depended on it, leaving little marks only you two can see, while he fucks you slow and deep on the dining table.
househusband!mingyu who moans like a whore when you spoil him with overstimulation. you tie his wrists with the silk ties you bought him and ride him for hours, making him cum again and again until he’s shaking, tears running down his cheeks, begging “please baby… I can’t—”
there’s something about quiet afternoons that feels earned.
maybe it’s the way the sunlight spills lazily across the backyard—honey-thick and warm, but not overwhelming.
maybe it’s the soft hum of the neighborhood slowing down just enough for you to actually hear yourself think.
or maybe, just maybe, it’s the fact that for the first time in forty-eight hours, no one is screaming for a snack.
just you. your plants. and a rare, golden pocket of peace.
you’re hunched over your favorite monstera, tilting the watering can with the kind of precision usually reserved for heart surgery. you’d raised this thing from a sad, two-leafed clearance rack find into a lush, towering masterpiece. honestly, you were a little too emotionally attached to it.
“you’re doing so well,” you murmur, thumbing a waxy green leaf. “look at you. thriving.”
“you say that to all of them.”
the voice is low, raspy with the remnants of a nap. you glance over your shoulder to find vernon leaning against the sliding door frame. his hair is a mess of static and sleep, his hoodie pulled up slightly at the sleeves, and his phone is gripped loosely in one hand—forgotten. he’s got that lazy, half-lidded smile on his face. the one that says he’s been standing there, just watching you, for longer than he’d care to admit.
“don’t be jealous, hansol,” you shoot back, eyes crinkling. “you get compliments too.”
“not like that,” he hums, stepping onto the grass. the cool blades tickle his bare feet. “you’ve never called me lush and thriving.”
you snort, turning back to your plants. “do you want me to start?”
he actually pauses to consider it, nodding with fake gravity. “yeah. i think it would help my confidence.”
before you can come up with a devastatingly cheesy retort, a much smaller, much higher voice cuts through the air.
“mama!”
the peace doesn’t shatter—it just shifts.
your daughter is standing five feet away, clutching her tiny, neon-pink watering can like it’s a holy relic. her pigtails are coming undone, cheeks flushed pink from the sun, and she has that look of fierce determination that she definitely inherited from her father.
“look!” she beams, pointing a chubby finger downward.
you walk over, your heart doing that weird, soft ache it only does for her. she’s pointing at her tomato plant. it’s a bit scraggly and leaning slightly to the left, but it’s alive.
“wow,” you breathe, crouching down. “did you do this all by yourself?”
she nods so hard her pigtails bounce. “it was thirsty! i gave it a big drink.”
vernon drops into a crouch beside her, resting his chin on his palm. he inspects the damp soil with exaggerated, scholarly seriousness. “hmm. yes. excellent saturation. a very well-hydrated specimen.”
she giggles, leaning into his side. “i told it to grow big and strong. like daddy.”
vernon’s entire face softens—the kind of look he only saves for her. “smart kid,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple.
the moment is perfect. it’s a picture-frame moment.
until you feel it.
splat.
a sudden, cold shock of water hits your forearm. you freeze. slowly, you turn your head to see your daughter standing there, her pink watering can tilted, a look of pure, accidental shock on her face.
a beat of silence passes.
“...did you just water me?” you ask.
her eyes go wide. then, she catches vernon’s stifled grin. she realizes it’s a game. she gasps, dissolving into a fit of belly-clutching giggles.
“that looked pretty intentional to me,” vernon says, his voice full of mischief.
“vernon,” you warn, narrowing your eyes.
he holds up his hands, retreating. “hey, i’m just a witness. i don’t make the rules.”
you look back at your daughter, who is now clutching her watering can like it’s a weapon.
“…okay,” you say slowly, setting your own can down. “if that’s how it is.”
her eyes light up.
you grab the hose—
“mama!” she shrieks, sprinting across the grass as a light mist trails after her. she’s fast, but she’s laughing too hard to make a clean getaway.
“you started it!” you call out, laughing as you track her movement.
“daddy, help!” she screams, beelining straight for vernon’s legs.
vernon barely has time to brace himself before she’s using him as a human shield. “wow,” he grunts as she clings to his knees.
“i’ve been drafted into the infantry.”
“protect me!” she squeals.
vernon looks at you, his eyes sparkling. he’s supposed to be the adult. he’s supposed to be the voice of reason. but this is vernon.
“i don’t know,” he muses, looking down at her. “what’s in it for me?”
“daddy!”
“okay, okay,” he laughs, shielding her with his body. he looks at you with mock-sternness. “i’m afraid i can’t let you proceed, ma’am. this is a protected zone.”
“you’re really picking a side?” you challenge, the hose nozzle twitching in your hand.
“i’m choosing the side with the cutest commander.”
you don't hesitate. you pivot the hose and soak his shins.
“hey!” he shouts, jumping back, his laughter echoing yours. he’s drenched in seconds, his shirt clinging to his chest, hair starting to flatten against his forehead.
it’s a full-blown war now.
vernon abandons his "observer" status and grabs the nearest bucket. your daughter runs back and forth between you, playing double agent—sometimes "helping" you hold the hose, only to turn around and splash your legs with her watering can.
vernon’s laugh is loud and unfiltered, filling the backyard as he dodges a spray of water, nearly tripping over a lawn gnome. he looks younger like this—carefree and glowing.
“okay, okay! truce! white flag!” he yells eventually, breathless and dripping.
you click the hose off, chest heaving, water dripping from your nose. “truce?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.
he walks over, his sneakers squelching in the grass, and pulls your daughter into his arms. “truce,” he confirms, tucking her head under his chin.
the garden is a swamp. your clothes are ruined. your hair is a disaster.
your daughter looks between the two of you, a giant, gap-toothed grin on her face. “...again?”
you and vernon answer in perfect unison, “no.”
she pouts.
you laugh, stepping forward to brush a wet strand of hair from her face. “maybe tomorrow, sweetheart.”
vernon wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you into the damp, messy huddle. he smells like rain and sun-warmed cotton. he leans down, pressing a wet, cold kiss to your cheek.
“you know,” he whispers, looking at the mess of the garden and the shivering, happy child in his arms. “you were right.”
jacobvanloon
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