THE SLEEPOVER
βPush me further, pull me closer, some sort of chemistryβ
- Pairing: Bestfriend! Leeknow x Reader
- Tags: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, feelings realization, sexual tension, unprotected sex, steamy sleepover.
- Word count: 3k+
- Summary: What was supposed to be a chill sleepover between best friends turns into something a little too charged. Between late-night teasing and lingering touches, Lee Know thinks about kissing youβblaming it on tension, but his eyes say otherwise. Now neither of you can pretend it was just a joke.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You hadnβt planned to sleep over. It was one of those nights where everything just aligned wrongβrain soaking your jeans, your apartmentβs power flickering out, and Minho casually offering, βJust crash here. Youβve done it before.β
And you had. Plenty of times. Movie nights, post-concert exhaustion, lazy Sundays when neither of you wanted to be alone. It was always easy, always natural. Best friends didnβt need to think twice about these things.
So you ended up in his hoodie again, curled on his couch, sharing popcorn and trading dumb commentary over a show neither of you paid attention to. But something shifted. Maybe it was the way the thunder rattled the windows. Maybe it was the silence that lingered longer between your jokes. Or maybe it was the fact that Minhoβs eyes had started to linger on your mouth when you laughed, and yours kept falling to the way his fingers flexed when he reached into the bowl.
The air thickened, slow and subtle, like something unseen had crawled into the room and made itself comfortable between you.
When the final credits rolled, Minho stretched, arms over his head, hoodie riding up just enough to flash a sliver of pale skin. You didnβt mean to look. But your gaze caught on it anywayβthen snapped away like itβd burned you.
βYouβre staying on the bed tonight,β he said, voice rough from sleep, dragging a hand through his hair. βCouchβs too cold.β
You blinked at him. βWhere are you sleeping then?β
He gave you a look like you were being dumb. βWith you. Obviously.β
It wasnβt the first time youβd shared a bed. But something about tonight made it feel like the first all over again.
The lights dimmed. You climbed under the covers. Minho followed, close, warm. His body didnβt touch yours, but the heat from him bled into your side anyway. Neither of you said muchβjust soft breathing, slow blinks, the occasional shuffle of limbs as you adjusted.
And then he turned toward you.
Not fully. Just enough for his knee to brush yours beneath the blanket. Enough for his hand to settle between you, fingers brushing yours.
The air felt heavier now. Sticky. Your pulse started to race, and it had no right to.
Then, so soft you almost didnβt hear itβ
You swallowed hard. βYeah.β
He didnβt move. Didnβt speak again. But the silence stretched thinner, tighter, and when his thumb brushed over your knuckle, just once, your breath hitched.
It was nothing. A tiny touch.
But something inside you shifted.
Because suddenly the bed felt smaller. The blanket too warm. The space between your bodies too dangerous.
You didnβt know what was happening.
You only knew you didnβt want it to stop.
His thumb dragged again. Slower this time. Over your knuckles, then back. A rhythm. Mindless, maybe. Maybe not.
Didnβt even breathe properly.
Because suddenly your hand wasnβt just a handβit was alive, nerve endings on fire where his skin grazed yours.
βYou cold?β he asked, voice low, husky from sleepβor something else.
You nodded. You werenβt.
Minho shifted closer, the mattress dipping under his weight. His thigh brushed yours fully now, and he didnβt move away. The warmth of him bled through the thin barrier of your shorts, and your body stiffened like it couldnβt tell whether to lean in or run.
His fingers curled between yours.
Not tight. Not firm. Just enough to tangle.
And then he whispered, βIs this okay?β
You nodded again. Too fast. Too breathless.
Minhoβs gaze flickered to your mouth. Just once. Just a second. But it felt like your whole body noticed.
Your heart skipped so hard it hurt. Your breathing started to betray you. And the way he was looking at you now? Not friendly. Not casual. Not like the best friend whoβd watched you ugly cry through a breakup and stolen fries off your plate without asking.
No. This gaze was unfamiliar. Intense.
And his touch? He was still tracingβyour hand, your wrist, the sensitive skin near your pulse point. Each slow brush of his fingers was like static. Crackling. Buzzing.
βYouβre acting weird,β you murmured, trying to joke, but your voice came out thin.
Minho smirkedβbarely. βSo are you.β
You huffed a breath that was definitely not a laugh, and he used the moment to shift even closer. His nose nearly brushed yours. His lipsβso close now. One more inch and youβd feel them.
The air between your mouths felt loud. Hot. Like a storm waiting to break.
You shouldβve pulled back. You both shouldβve.
Instead, your fingers gripped his tighter.
Minhoβs eyes dropped to your lips again.
And this time, he didnβt look away.
He leaned inβnot fully, not yet. Just enough that you felt his breath ghost across your cheek, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. His hand found your waist under the covers. Just rested there.
But when he whispered, βTell me if Iβm crossing a line,β his voice crackedβlike he wasnβt sure heβd stop even if you did.
And youβGod, you didnβt even know where the line was anymore.
All you knew was that you wanted him closer.
You shouldβve said something. Shouldβve cracked a joke, rolled over, done anything to break the spell settling over both of you.
You stayed still, heart racing, eyes locked on his like the air between you was magnetic. And Minho didnβt move eitherβlike he was waiting. Testing. Trying to figure out if this was real or just some late-night, storm-soaked delusion.
His hand slid up your waist. Just an inch. The pressure feather-light, but it burned through the fabric of your hoodie anyway. His thumb stroked slow circles at your side, and you swore your skin shivered under it.
βYou always wear my clothes to bed?β he asked, voice low, rougher than it had any right to be.
βYou gave it to me,β you mumbled, suddenly hyper-aware of the way the hem had ridden up your thighs. βSaid I looked cold.β
Minho hummed. A soft, dangerous sound.
βI didnβt realize it fit you like that.β
You didnβt mean to react. But his words curled around something deep in your stomach, pulling tight. Because that wasnβt friendly. That wasnβt casual. That was Minhoβs voice dipped in something unspokenβsomething he hadnβt let surface until tonight.
You swallowed hard. βYouβre being weird.β
His lips quirked, just slightly. βYou already said that.β
You rolled your eyes, tried to turn awayβtried. But his hand on your waist held you there. Not forceful. Just firm enough to make your stomach flip.
His name felt different now. Intimate. Fragile.
βI donβt know what this is,β he admitted, gaze flicking between your eyes, your lips, back again. βBut I donβt wanna stop.β
You just laid there, tangled in tension, in silence, in breath that sounded more like anticipation than rest. Your thighs brushed every time one of you moved. Your fingers were still intertwined beneath the blanket, now slightly sweaty. His thumb kept stroking your skin. Like he couldnβt stop. Like he didnβt want to.
When you finally spoke again, your voice was softer. βWeβre gonna ruin everything, arenβt we?β
Minhoβs brow ticked, but he didnβt let go. If anything, his grip tightened.
βMaybe,β he said. βBut I canβt remember the last time I cared this much about something I wasnβt supposed to want.β
You blinked. Your heart jumped. And for a moment, neither of you breathed at all.
The distance between your faces? Still there. Barely. But it was electric.
And you knewβnext time, someone would break.
The tension hadnβt gone away. If anything, itβd gotten worse.
Youβd both agreedβwithout saying a wordβnot to bring it up. Not the way he held you that night like you were something fragile and forbidden. Not the way your breath had hitched every time his fingers moved. Not the way he looked at your mouth like heβd already tasted it in a dream.
It was easier to pretend it was nothing. A fluke. Late-night confusion.
But Minho wasnβt confused now. Not when you showed up at his door again. Not when you smiled at him like you hadnβt been replaying that night on loop. Not when he saw you curled on his bed again, hoodie oversized, legs bare, looking so damn innocent it made something coil tight in his chest.
And he definitely wasnβt confused when you laughed at something dumb he said and leaned into him without thinkingβthigh brushing his, hand resting on his arm like it belonged there.
That was when something in him snapped.
Because his body remembered. It remembered the way you gasped when he touched your waist, the way your lips parted when his breath ghosted over them, the way your thighs had trembled under the blanket even though he never really touched you.
So this time, he didnβt ask.
This time, he grabbed you.
His hand slid into your hair as he kissed youβhard. All heat and hunger and frustration. Your gasp was swallowed instantly, your back hitting the mattress as his body followed without hesitation.
βFuckβMinhoββ you breathed against his mouth, nails digging into his arms as he hovered over you, teeth grazing your lip.
βCouldnβt stop thinking about you,β he growled, voice nothing like the teasing best friend you knew. This was something else. Possessive. Feral. βEvery fucking night since then.β
Your heart stuttered, your skin burning where his hands roamedβpalming your waist, sliding under the hoodie like he owned it, like he owned you. His fingers trailed higher, skimming under your shirt until they ghosted over your ribs. You arched into him, chasing the contact like you were starving for it.
βI thought we said we werenβt gonna ruin this,β you panted.
His mouth traced your jaw, tongue hot against your pulse. βThen whyβd you come back?β
Not when his thigh slipped between yours, pressing up just enough to make your breath catch.
Not when he groaned into your neck and said, βTell me to stop.β
Instead, you reached for himβhands tangled in his hair, lips crashing into his like youβd waited forever for this moment. Because maybe you had.
And this time, there was no hesitation.
Just the sound of fabric shifting, ragged breathing, and the quiet, undeniable truth of two best friends falling apart in each otherβs armsβlike they were always meant to.
Minhoβs mouth never left your skin.
Every kiss he dragged down your throat burned like it was searing his name into youβmarking you in places no one would ever see, but youβd feel them long after. His hand slipped under your hoodie again, fingers splayed wide across your stomach, dragging up slowlyβso slowlyβuntil he found the swell of your breast, thumb grazing the underside.
You gasped, hips twitching beneath him.
He looked down at you like a man unraveling. Like you were both the fire and the fuel.
βGod, you have no idea what you do to me,β he rasped, and his hand moved higher, teasing until your nipple stiffened under his palm. βYou were just laying there that night and I couldnβt stop thinking about how fucking soft you felt.β
He rolled your nipple between his fingers, gentle at first, then a delicious pinch that made you whimper. Your thighs clenched around his waist and he grinnedβdark and satisfied.
βYeah,β he muttered, leaning in to mouth at your neck. βYou like that. Fuck.β
You liked the way his weight pressed you into the bed. The way his hand slid beneath your waistband like heβd done it a hundred times. Like your body was his to touch, to explore, to ruin.
His fingers brushed over your slitβwarm, wet, achingβand he hissed against your skin.
βShit. Youβre soaked.β His voice dipped into something feral. βIs this all for me, baby?β
You choked out a yes, and he didnβt hesitate.
Two fingers dragged through your foldsβslow, savoring every slick inch. He circled your clit just once, and your back arched with a sharp cry.
His mouth was back on yours in an instant, swallowing every sound, his tongue dragging filthy and deep. He curled his fingers inside you, finding that spot almost immediatelyβbecause of course he didβand he stroked it like he was already addicted.
βYou gonna fall apart for me?β he whispered against your lips, breath hot, pupils blown. βLet me feel how tight this pretty pussy gets when she cums on my fingers?β
Your moan broke into pieces when he added a third finger, scissoring you open, stretching you just enough to make you tremble. His thumb never stopped teasing your clit, steady, relentless, and your body felt like it was climbingβtoo fast, too much.
And he knew. Knew exactly when you were about to lose it.
βThatβs it, baby. Let go,β he groaned. βCum for me.β
And when you did, it shattered you.
Your whole body locked up, a cry ripping from your throat as your walls clenched around his fingers, slick pouring down his wrist, thighs shaking uncontrollably. But he didnβt stopβnot right away. He worked you through it, slow and filthy, mouth dragging over your collarbone while you gasped his name like a prayer.
When he finally pulled his hand back, he looked down at the mess between your thighsβhis fingers coated in youβand licked them clean, eyes on yours the whole time.
βStill think we ruined something?β he whispered, crawling back up your body, pinning your wrists beside your head.
You shook your head, lips parted, still breathless.
βGood,β he growled, hips pressing between yours, the outline of his cock thick and hard through his sweats. βBecause I havenβt even started yet.β
You barely had time to breathe.
Minhoβs mouth was on yours againβhungry, desperate, like heβd been starving for years and only now figured out what heβd been craving. His hips rolled against yours, the thick press of his cock grinding through his sweats, dragging right against your still-throbbing clit.
βNeed these off,β he growled, tugging your shorts and panties down in one quick pull, tossing them somewhere behind him like theyβd offended him. Then the hoodieβhis hoodieβgot pushed up over your chest and bunched under your arms. He paused just to look at you, pupils blown so wide they swallowed the brown.
βFuck, youβre perfect,β he muttered, palming your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers again until you arched into him. βAlways thought Iβd keep my hands to myself. Thought itβd pass. But look at youβ¦β
You whined as he leaned down, sucking your nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling, then biting just enough to make your breath hitch. His hand slipped between you again, dragging through your folds, making sure you were still dripping.
βStill so fucking wet,β he muttered, then sat back to shove his sweats down. And when his cock sprang freeβthick, flushed, glistening at the tipβyou nearly choked on your own breath.
He smirked. βYeah, baby. Thatβs all for you.β
He stroked it once, twice, slow and teasing, then lined himself up and dragged the head through your foldsβslick mixing, pressure perfect, not pushing in yet.
βIβm not gonna be gentle,β he said, voice low and rough as sin. βYou feel too good for that. You want it rough, donβt you?β
βYesβplease, Minho, I want itββ
He slid in with one long, slow strokeβinch by inch, dragging out the stretch, letting you feel every thick, delicious part of him. You gasped, nails clawing at his shoulders as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours, the burn and fullness making your eyes roll back.
βShit,β he hissed. βYouβre so fucking tight. Gripping me like you donβt wanna let go.β
Rhythm slow at firstβdeep, controlled thrusts that left you breathless. Your body molded to his, hands locked in his hair, mouth open against his shoulder as he fucked into you like heβd been waiting for this. Like every thrust was months of pent-up tension finally breaking loose.
His hand slid under your thigh, hitching it up over his hip, and he started slamming into you. Hard. Deep. Loud enough to echo through the room, wet and filthy and so fucking perfect.
You screamed his nameβbroken, desperateβand he groaned, forehead pressed to yours.
βThatβs it,β he growled. βLet me hear you. Let everyone fucking know whoβs got you like this.β
Tears in your lashes, mouth falling open with every brutal thrust, your second orgasm already climbingβfast and dizzying.
βMinhoβgonnaβfuck, Iβm gonnaββ
He reached between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast, relentless circles.
And you didβviolently, sobbing his name, thighs trembling as your orgasm tore through you like a wave, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath you. He groaned at the feel of it, hips stuttering.
βFuckβfuck, Iβm gonnaββ
He barely pulled out before he cameβhot and thick across your stomach, chest heaving, eyes still locked on you like he couldnβt look away.
And then everything went still.
Heavy breathing. Shaky limbs. Sweat-slicked skin pressed together.
Minho leaned down, kissed you soft. Way softer than the way heβd just wrecked you.
βIβm not losing you after this. Youβre mine now.β
The morning light spilled through the blinds in soft slits, casting golden lines across Minhoβs bare back.
He was still wrapped around you.
Your legs tangled. His arm heavy across your waist. Your face tucked under his chin where you could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat, slow and calm.
And your whole body still ached in the best possible way.
You shifted just a little and immediately felt his hand tighten at your side.
βWhere do you think youβre going?β he murmured, voice hoarse and heavy with sleep.
Your lips twitched. βBathroom.β
βNo.β His voice was muffled nowβhe buried his face against your neck and held on tighter. βYou live here now.β
You laughed softly. βLive in your bed?β
Minho grunted. βExactly. Iβll bring you snacks. You donβt need anything else.β
His fingers started tracing random shapes along your side, dipping under the blanket, dancing over your skin like he wasnβt even thinking about it. It was absentminded affectionβthe kind you donβt even realize youβre doing unless someone points it out.
But you noticed. Every brush of his fingertips felt like a love letter.
βI meant it,β he said after a moment, quieter now. βWhat I said last night. About you being mine.β
You leaned back just enough to look at him. Hair a mess. Eyes soft. Lips a little swollen from how hard heβd kissed you. And stillβstillβsomehow managing to look smug and flustered at once.
βI didnβt think weβd end up here,β you whispered.
Minho reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear. βMe either. But now that we are? Iβm not going anywhere. So you better not run.β
You snorted. βWhere would I go? You stole my shorts and ruined your hoodie.β
He smirked. βGuess youβll just have to stay naked.β
You laughed again, burying your face into his chest, and he wrapped both arms around you this timeβtight, warm, safe.
And when he kissed the top of your head, so soft you barely felt it, he whispered, βIβve got you.β
Because in that momentβwrapped in his arms, in his bed, with his scent all over your skinβyouβd never felt more wanted in your life.
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββ-
Authors note: Hey guys, did you enjoy this? I wanted to hop on the bestfriends to lovers trope with Leeknow, i hope you liked it.
Please dont forget to reblog and leave a like, it encourages me π§‘
