panoply;; a stray kids one-shot & short story collection

"tamed" 🍑 {minsung}

Minho had always had a thing for losers, and the dude absolutely floundering in front of him was no exception.

The unbridled desperation was cute, really, and he loved how desirable he felt when the guys looked at him like he was some sort of god, way out of their league. And he probably was...No, he most definitely was.

The guy played with his fingers and hardly spared him a glance as he spoke to him. "U-Um, so I was wondering if I could buy you a coffee?" He asked, finally peeking up through dark lashes, hope evident in his eyes. Minho smirked.

"But I already have a coffee," he punctuated the statement by shaking the iced americano in his hand, making the ice rattle. The guy's face got somehow redder than it already was.

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I guess you're right. Um... A dessert then?"

Minho slurped lazily at his drink, humming as though he was seriously considering the offer. This dude wasn't ugly by any means, but definitely not his type. He was more into the confident losers than the ones who could hardly manage a single sentence toward him. They were way more fun to break down and rebuild into what he wanted.

"Nah, I have somewhere else I'd rather be. Thanks, though! Toodles!" Minho gracefully slipped off the bar stool and waved his fingers at the guy, throwing a double-eyed wink in for good measure. (So he sucked at winking, whatever. It usually got the point across, anyway.)

He had a cocky bounce in his step as he walked his way back toward his campus. It felt good to be able to turn down anyone whilst picking up whoever he wanted. It made him feel powerful. Like every choice related to his sex-life was purely his to decide - who to flirt with, who to fuck, when and how to fuck, who to ghost, who to keep around... He didn't have to worry about ever running out of people to use - not when he was this unfairly attractive.

Men ate out of the palm of his little hand and he loved it; he got off on controlling just how many crumbs he'd allow them.

A playful slap on his shoulder blade made him grimace and stop in the middle of the sidewalk. He'd almost made it to his dorm without running into him. If only he were that lucky. 

"What do you want now, Jisung?" He groaned dramatically, shaking off his touch and turning to face him.

This Han Jisung guy just wouldn't leave him alone. He'd been following him around like a puppy for weeks, acting as though he just happened to run into him by coincidence. He was some jock type, so Minho had originally expected him to be a smooth talker, but every time, he'd bombarded him with awful pickup lines and tactics he must've learned from The Game.

The best way to describe Han Jisung was a gym-bro loser - a combination he'd yet to meet before.

Minho would've just outright told him to fuck off, but as annoying as he was, he was also infuriatingly hot. Damn his high libido.

"How did you know it was me?" Jisung questioned, genuine surprise written across his soft features.

Minho snorted and rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked a hip. "I could smell your shitty cologne from a mile away. What is it, axe? Shouldn't you have left it behind when you graduated highschool?"

Jisung frowned a little and sniffed at his surprisingly crisp white tee, and fuck him for looking so good in something so simple.

"Smells good to me," he shrugged.

(If he were honest with himself, Minho liked how it smelled, too.)

"So? Are you just gonna make me stand here all day while you smell yourself, or?" Minho pursed his lips and switched the hip he leant on. He exuded sass.