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49 & 33 Onewxminho

49. Chair sex, 33. Morning sex

Lee Jinki’s eyes roll back, head heavy but supported by the back of the a chair he sits in, sort of; hotel chairs aren’t known for the best comfort, especially in the breezy nude. He’s unsure where his briefs ended up through the night nor does he really care at this stage.

The bathroom fan runs and the noise of coffee brewing in the dinky little coffee maker warms the new-found morning. Or rather, early afternoon in this case. The hotel room’s window curtains are still drawn, blocking out the headache inducing sun.

There is some progress. The bed, sheets torn apart and twisted about, is empty, but not much success otherwise, considering after Jinki sloppily figured out the coffee maker without aid of glasses, he roused Choi Minho, his junior, from sleep only to have the younger skip the bathroom to fall onto Jinki’s lap in the chair, chest and chest.

“Please..a few more minutes.. Jinki ssi..” Minho grunts against Jinki’s shoulder, long bare back bowed, hunched over the shorter man.

“Stop..”

“Hm..?”

“Don’t use formal speech..” Jinki’s eyes close, nose crinkled. He told the younger before not to talk with formal speech, since they’re in a relationship now, but it slips most when he’s tired.

“Understood..”

“Stop it,” Jinki’s eyes open, palm swatting at Minho’s arm with laughter.

The younger shakes with a snort.

“We will need to check out soon. You can take the first shower.”

The overnight stay after drinks at local bars meant less prying eyes from neighbors too familiar. Family home’s were not an option either, considering the nature of their relationship and it’s secrets. With the smell of alcohol and sex all over them, a wash is much needed.

“You should have it,” Minho announces.

Jinki touches both hands to Minho’s warm back, pulling them slowly down the curves of his spine, missing a mark Jinki wouldn’t remember leaving behind the night before if he saw it. The younger man’s deep voice rises in a groan. Hands stop at the fabric of briefs, the only clothing between either of them, cupping the round of Minho’s ass.

Jinki hisses a groan as Minho begins nibbles at his ear, a terrible weakness the younger soon discovered in him. So Jinki grips and kneads Minho’s cheeks between the thin fabric. Minho soon rolls hips forward, friction rousing between them.

“Go..” Jinki’s voice cracks in a gasp, slightly overwhelmed after a night of drinking and sex, waking to this. “Shower..”

“You go,” Minho says between sucking kisses across Jinki’s neck, speech still too formal.

Jinki bites his lip, face scrunched, not yet defeated, as his hand sneak between the fabric, grabbing at the hot flesh of Minho’s ass, spreading cheeks forcibly.

The cry from Minho surprises Jinki, his short fingers slipping over the leftover lube from the night before. It arouses, but also startles Jinki being taken by the shoulders and shoved roughly back into the chair.

Jinki turns his head upward, expecting mouths to touch and not being disappointed. He’s truly woken with a kiss, pressing back to Minho’s give, mouths parting to taste each other.

Minho reaches behind, pulling Jinki’s hands from his underwear, Jinki not minding while dragging his teeth across Minho’s lip.

Minho climbs from Jinki’s lap, crouching in the tight space between thighs, nudging Jinki’s legs open wider. His nose squishes to Jinki’s chest, lips parted to lap a tongue and kiss at the older’s nipple, sloppy and sleepy. Jinki bites a gigging sigh.

The rest of the way down palms drag over Jinki’s chest and abdomen, moving with the deeper breathes he suddenly takes in, then stop at plump thighs, fingers pressing legs wide.

Jinki should be the reasonable adult, say there is no more time for fooling around, but Minho’s large eyes glazed with sleep still, peeking out from beneath unkempt hair as he traces Jinki’s half-chub with his warm tongue; Jinki has no protests.

Jinki sinks into the chair, slouching, legs spreading wider still, each sucking slurp Minho pulls him in. A sleepy, morning suckoff is a rarity in Jinki’s experience, and it sure soothes a hangover. Lips pull off a time or two, licking the underside of his ballsack with teasing strokes, a word or two spilled out of the younger in adoration of his heavy girth. Jinki touches Minho’s small, moving head with each jolt of received pleasure, never one to silence Minho’s praise of him though he tries to appear humbled.

Minho sucks Jinki until his face is lined with cum and his mouth swallowing the rest. He doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as when Jinki woke him.

Jinki groans and melts with the chair.

“Why not shower together?” Minho suggests, smiling pouty lips while running fingers through the cum left across his face.

Jinki quickly nods at such an easy decision.

0nho

onho 48 thanks!

48. I love you

–

Bottles are tripped over, spilling, furniture bumped into, as two stumble through the room, to the small bed in the corner of a one room apartment. Hands grope each other’s clothing, until pants are undone and tops half-open.

Feet hit the base of the bed, falling two backwards over it, one on top of the other, drunken kisses pressed sloppily at any exposure of skin.

It’s Lee Jinki who pauses first, tangled on top of Minho, small eyes ladder and glazed with alcohol.

“If we.. if we do this,” Jinki groans, difficult to get his words out while Minho sucks on his neck and wraps those long, thin legs around his waist, and it really does feel good enough to confuse his words. “If we– there’s no going back…”

Minho stops then, head falling back, large eyes matching Jinki’s in drunkenness, full lips already swelling. Jinki blinks, growing stiff, still very unsure he wants this–this thing Choi Minho, his sincere and sweet junior, wants of Jinki. He’s unsure he can be what Minho wants. The drinks Minho brought over to Jinki’s has helped loosen him up, but here now, facing this, it’s difficult to commit to it

Jinki’s world spins as Minho lurches them in a roll, now the younger on top, staring down at Jinki’s disheveled state.

“I already can’t go back..” Minho’s eyes dart aside, then face Jinki boldly again. “I can’t just be your friend or junior, I can’t go back.. don’t you see?” his voice slurs worse than Jinki’s, lisping terribly.

Another kiss, deep, tongues meeting, silences Jinki’s first thought, which is protest. The kiss is nice though, a notable difference than kissing a woman. Less delicate; more of equal give and take. And Jinki takes, by undoing the rest of Minho’s top, palms exploring the younger’s slender, toned body, in a manner he never thought himself ever to do.

‘I love you’

That unusual confession still rings through Jinki’s entire being, on his mind daily, trying to make sense of something that is in fact extremely simple: a man fell in love and it’s with him.

Minho’s head lowers, Jinki’s shirt nudged height enough Minho can suck and nibble at Jinki’s chest, puckering a nipple, and all Jinki can find himself to do is hold to the younger’s small head, the texture of hair a reminder he really isn’t with a woman right now. His voice involuntarily cracks in breathy groans.

Soon Jinki’s pants are tugged down, then his top is fully off, and he’s already growing hard, and Jinki stares at it as if a mystery or betrayal.

Minho looks back to Jinki, from where he’s settled on a crouch between Jinki’s spread legs. It’s a silently look for approval.

“Suck it,” slips out in a sigh, confusing Jinki he would just say that out loud.

With that, Minho has no restraint; grabbing Jinki thick, stroking with a determined gaze, one alarming. How long had his junior been wanting to get his hands on Jinki’s dick?

Jinki falls back, as his voice escaped loud, Minho sucking him off without hesitation. The wet warmth, the bobbing pressure, it feels amazing. Jinki can’t will himself to stay flaccid to Minho’s working mouth.

“.. good..” is all Jinki’s voice can flutter by.

Minho slurps and twists his head, hands on Jinki’s thighs, digging into the bunched fabric of pants. It’s good enough, Jinki’s guard is compromising, mind slipping away.

“Minho..” Jinki sighs, a slight giggling to his voice, “Minho ya…”

Fingers cup his sack, a light squeeze and rubbing, and Jinki jerks when Minho goes from a loud slurp in pulling off to suck graciously at his balls. Jinki’s eyes roll back, barely the curious question across his mind what sort of practice the younger has in this area.

When Jinki finds some composure to sit up on elbows, he finds Minho face deep in his groin, lips on Jinki’s balls and nose batting his swollen length. Minho’s eyes glance up at Jinki, still dark with alcohol but a pureness behind it, regardless the dirty act. A sincerity, one Jinki didn’t want to believe in, because why would someone like Minho, a well loved and popular person, want Jinki more than anyone else.

“This is..” Jinki sniffs and rubs his face, eyes squeezed shut. “This.. good,” he wants to say it feels euphoric, that he appreciates the effort, but words or difficult.

With a little disappointment in the pit of Jinki’s stomach, Minho pulls off, crawling back over Jinki, pressing lips for a kiss. Jinki tastes himself mixed in the alcohol on Minho’s tongue.

“Will you– mine too,” Minho grinds to Jinki, kissing his cheek with a low moan, head then hanging. “Please..” is his desperate plea. Another man wants his dick Jinki’s mouth.

‘we can’t go back’

‘I love you’

‘we can’t go back’

Jinki has to make a difficult decision; who will hurt most?

subminhonet

Um fuck, bc lil’ vampire Minho fucking himself on Jinki’s lap! And getting all nippy at his neck and the next day he’s like “ah, you should probably wear a turtleneck today…” and Jinki blushes and then Minho blushes and Jinki ruffles his hair and pulls out his navy turtleneck wif a grin. 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

Thank you very much for this request! This was written by Admin M, and if you would like to read more of her writing, you can find it here. Enjoy!

Part of being in a relationship with a vampire was, of course, the biting. That wasn’t the only reason Jinki was with Minho, but it absolutely didn’t hurt.

Well, metaphorically it didn’t anyway.

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0nho

2:50 - mark minho tries to pull it together as be speaks

3:30 - mark minho cries while speaking, and he looks like such a little baby boy still, that I’m emotional just thinking about a kid who tried to be an adult for everyone but he was just a little kid inside still, and looking back on it, it effected him enough that he would be so emotional about it he couldn’t hold back tears in front of cameras

too often I think about the possibility minho isn’t taken care of enough because he puts others before him and wears a tough act to not concern those around him when he’s in need, so it becomes a form of neglect he internalizes

0nho

onho; “oppa’s hyung”

Minho sets up his younger sister with a hyung he admires, but with ulterior motives. ((base off the plot bunny from an anon))

one-sided(?) jinki/minho // pg-13 // fluff, slight angst // long drabble

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subminhonet

One aspect of Minho being exploited

There is something that I would like to talk about. Something close to my heart.

While there were aspects of Dream Team that were good for Minho (like new public recognition and getting himself out there), I think it also hurt him, like a dark cloud hovering over him, for at least a couple years.

While fairly good in general sports (especially if pitted against other idols), when it was found how competitive he can be it was exploited for ratings. A whole character was built up around it. No one wanted to talk about the darker aspects of it; how he was only a 17/18 year old boy with lots of pressure and a tenancy to beat himself up over mistakes, to the point of loosing sleep. He was insecure, which drove anger and moodiness out of him, on camera no less.

No, it was just funny and light-hearted for tv.

The reality was something different though. While his father had various reasons for not wanting Minho to ever become a soccer player (not a good enough player, rough lifestyle, etc), he knew there was a competitive nature there (be it natural or environmentally born) that would harm him in the long run.

Minho later figured it out himself. He had self-awareness, because it was painful.

“After filming Dream Team, on days I won I would be in a really good mood, and on days I lost I would keep thinking about it. It’s the same as when I make a mistake on stage. When I mess up on one step on stage, I feel hateful towards myself. I grow angry. Wondering why I did that that during that step. I think it’s because my competitiveness is so strong. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy competing. Instead, if there is a competition I tend to avoid it. Because if one wins, the other loses. Because any person, no matter who it is, dislikes losing.”

But many fans, at least i-fans, missed the memo. It was always jokes about how competitive he is, how angry he will be at losing *anything*, how he lives and breathes just to beat someone to #1. Hyper-masculine characterizations fueling this character built out of an exploited weakness in a teenager.

“I have a competitive side but I’ve never felt the desire to win in the area of studying. “

Not everything was a competition in life.

Later, after leaving the Dream Team lineup, he started opening up more about how the image he had gained (and was exploited) hurt him.

What is competitiveness to you? “A burden. I’ll be sad if I lose last time but now, I feel apologetic to the PD.”

And eventually, as he grew into a young man, he out grew some of that insecurity as a teenager.

The only reason he was later at the idol sports specials, alone, was because he had to go, especially while he was a fixed MC for the broadcast channel. It was media politics. It was never clearer than last year when he was sent even while he had a busted leg and already scheduled to be elsewhere for group activities.

Everyone at this point knows what a nightmare it is filming those specials. Minho didn’t just volunteer himself to go alone every year simply because he loves sports and the competition.

"Honestly speaking, the attention of so many people is really a burden to me. Because of people’s stereotypical image of me (as a good athlete) the thought that I have to do well is burdensome to me.”

There are aspects of Dream Team that were good for Minho, but he didn’t walk away from that program unscathed. To this day, when he’s on a variety show that has any sort of competition, the MCs will talk him up as being over the top competitive. He has to smile, laugh and nod. It’s what is expected of him, what he thinks the fans want to see.

Things I never want to have to see again are comments such as “Minho lives for winning!” because this is more a character flaw in himself (and many people) that he is self-aware of. And I wish media would stop exploiting it for laughs or ratings.

0nho

onho; omegaverse; “Birthright” (part 9)

Title: birthright (part 9) Pairing: onew/minho (some side jonghyun/minho, minho/taeyeon((!taemin))) Rating: nc-17 Word Count:16k+ Warnings: a/b/o // omegaverse, angst/dark, smut, non-con, mpreg, knotting, underage abuses mentioned Summary: an omega, one reluctant to perform his birth duty, is put under the care of an alpha not familiar to him.

a/n: truth be told, i know is say this a lot, but the original idea for ‘part 9′ had to be split, so there is at least one more part after this–now that we are back on track. super special thanks to @therealf-o-x-y for not only seeing me through getting the edits done for the previous six chapters, but also looking this chapter over for me in detail (for overall better quality).

i hope readers enjoy. feedback and comments are appreciated. ;u; thank you.

“Do not tell Ming of what we spoke of. Do you understand?”

It was a mistake. That night was a mistake to Jinki.

Jonghyun gulps and nods, wide eyes rolled upwards at the alpha. He waits for threat of disembowelment but it doesn’t follow.

Keep reading

subminhonet

The challenge series is back with a fourth installment!

Challenge #3 Theme:

Back to School! With the new semester starting for many people, we want to see some inspired work to give us a break from the hard work up ahead!

Challenge #3 Prompts:

Any level of education from pre-school to college

Medical School

Teacher AU

Cullinary Institutes

Beauty School

After school clubs

Ballet Class

Hogwarts AU

Law School

School Counselor

Be creative with it! There are many different kinds of school!!

Guidelines:

The challenges are open to all fanworks: fics, art, graphics, etc. Gen or ships. G through NC-17.

Regardless of his position in the pairing, we are looking for works which highlight the feminine, masculine and submissive aspects of his personality, with particular care to show a view of Minho which defies the heavily masculine stereotype of him. It also has to follow the theme of this challenge.

You can submit your entries directly to the blog or tag them with subminho challenges. It is also helpful if you tag us in it as we will be more likely to see it faster.

Please ask questions if you have them.

Challenge deadline is September 30th.

Please participate in one way or another; even if it’s just reblogging! And have fun!

0nho

Mei; onho

While young, Minho had wanted to grow up to someday have a family, it’s just not as he had expected it would turn out. ((my onho day entry for the ship challenge at @subminhonet))

jinki/minho // pg // fluff, domestic au // 2k+ words

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0nho

sir dubulge and man-serv mingbulge feat. “tea time”.

0nho

Onho 50 please. Love your writing <3

50. going through a divorce au

“You’ve changed.”

Daily, those words repeat in Lee Jinki fatigued mind. Like many times, he needs a drink; that will drown out the voice of Jinki’s ex. Facing the reality that it’s true is a step Jinki can’t take right now.

The story used to be funny to tell, to those few trusted as friends; that in high school, he and a junior friend, both rejected by female classmates and secretly pushing blurred lines of accepted sexuality with kisses and layered rubbing, had a pact made. The pact seemed simple and silly enough at the time: once they were both out of conscription and still not yet married they would just marry each other instead of live in loneliness.

It was mostly made as a joke between two close friends. But Jinki forgets how true to his word that friend, Choi Minho, in fact is. A summer trip overseas and a few drinks down had the buried pact dug back up, said with the passion of teenagers.

“I’ll marry you. Let’s keep that promise.”

Jinki had forgotten. He wasn’t in a relationship, or even close to marriage, but he had seen a woman for a year, and later also a man. He had forgotten the teenage broken hearts and giggling laughter as a special handshake was made to seal the deal.

Minho’s big eyes, the gentle touch of his palm over Jinki’s hand, it had the older’s heart leap and a vague future of happiness whisk him away. He could see himself bypassing a worry that runs in his own family. It was a relief.

So, in a country where the two could legally wed, papers were signed and a certificate was flown home with them, even if it wouldn’t be recognized at home.

Jinki wishes he could remember how happy he was back then. He thinks he was happy then. He remembers his genuine smiles and enjoying Minho’s warm touch, the sincerity in his actions, that the younger cared for Jinki more than friends do without saying so in words. The sex was the most intimate and passionate Jinki had ever had, but the memories, rather the feeling of loving security, is dull and gray now.

It’s muted. While Jinki is sure he knows Minho inside out, as he’s the type to expose it all on a sleeve, Jinki hasn’t always told Minho everything. He bears the shame of mental illness running in his family. A grandparent had it, but treatment was never acceptable. He died bitter and alone, alienating everyone, even the young grandchild Jinki.

This is how it is. Jinki has to figure it out himself. He doesn’t realize how deep he already is or where to begin to climb out; when did it even start? The bottom of a bottle of heavy alcohol seems as good a start as any.

“You’ve changed.”

Jinki frowns now, popping a lid from a bottle and gulping it down over a raw throat. Minho has tried to help, to fix it, but a resentment has grown inside Jinki towards Minho who lives freely.

Noise at the entry alerts Jinki to a visitor. They let themselves in, shoes left neatly at the door. A small dog, the corgi breed the couple own together, greets Minho excitedly at the small entryway, yapping and jumping on stubby little legs.

Jinki wishes he felt something watching Minho’s face light up in an adoring smile. It’s a warmth Jinki longs for. Where did it go? How does he get it back?

“Are you packed up?” Jinki asks, standing in the kitchen, arm rubbing the dirty whisker scruff of his face. He needs to take interest in his appearance, but really, who cares. His job is the only reason to shower or he will lose employment. Appearance is important. It’s everything; the foundation of society in his country. One is a good person if only they keep their dirt swept under a beautiful rug.

“Almost.”

Minho looks up at Jinki, pretty eyes Jinki has always been captivated by softening into sadness. Jinki blames himself. In fact, he is the one who is divorcing his spouse after nearly two years of certified marriage. In Jinki’s home country they can’t officially separate, but he looks at it as nothing but a piece of paper. What does it actually hold in a country where they can’t legally wed?

Jinki tore the paperwork up in front of Minho during their last argument. It’s selfish of Jinki to make a person like Minho stick to dead weight like himself. Cruel. He shouldn’t have to share a bed, be in peaceful sleep, while his spouse is up in the night contemplating jumping from their shared apartment balcony. If Jinki goes through with it, crumbles and give into the voices, it would be unfair to Minho sleeping beside him.

“You settling alright?”

Jinki glances Minho over, looking for any signs he’s found a new relationship. Instead he still finds a ring on Minho’s finger, one matching to the ring Jinki already removed but has it sitting beside the bed to stare at nightly. Minho is still in love with Jinki, but Jinki can’t confidently say the same. He questions if he ever truly was.

“Yeah, I’m staying with a friend for now. I’m..” Minho takes a deep breath, fingers through hair, in the motion that’s always been self-soothing for the younger, because he’s that easy to read. “I’ll figure it out.”

Jinki nods. It’s so like Minho to remain positive, even facing something difficult.

“I came to tell you I want you to keep Ani.”

Jinki lowers his drink, brows arched behind greasy hair. He thought they agreed that Ani, the dog, would go with Minho, while deciding who gets what over the divorce. “Why?”

Minho’s head quirks, smile gentle and gaze averted. It’s hard for him to say “She makes you happier than I can. I just want you happy.”

Their eyes meet again, and Jinki is taken aback. His fatigued mind jolts, anxiety rising. Thoughts race that he’s made a terrible mistake, that he wishes to tape those torn papers back together. Jinki feels something now, and it’s the sharp pain of regret. It’s too late, he’s already hurt a dear friend and lover.

“I hope..” Minho appears nervous. “I can come visit her.”

“I..” Jinki blinks, mouth hung open still. Processing words is difficult in the state of his decayed mind. Ani hustles over to Jinki, being that reason to open his eyes every morning for weeks now. “I–yeah–sure.”

Minho bounces on heels, looking pleased with the answer. It’s obvious, even if they can’t be lovers, Minho wants to remain friends. Jinki swigs another drink, apartment a mess, empty bottles scattered. Not much remains of Minho in the home. Old pictures in frames of the two together or with friends are turned down, taken off walls, by Jinki. Staring at Minho through pictures while drunk always has his heart hurt.

Jinki misses it, how they were. If he could find himself again, maybe then they could work it out and be together again. Jinki doesn’t count on it.

Minho hasn’t changed. But Jinki has.

“Do you want a drink?” Jinki offers, barely a smile to give, but his heart thumps with an old familiarity.

Minho still hasn’t actually stepped up into the home. Brows furrow, “You shouldn’t drink so much..”

Jinki chews lips, turning his head away. Still he’s trying to fix Jinki himself, isn’t he? Another gulping swallow is taking from the bottle, making a bitter show of it.

“I’ll let myself out,” Minho says, as he turns his back to slip on shoes. When the door opens and clicks shut, Jinki decides it’s time to open another bottle.

Jinki’s actions aren’t as selfless as he thinks, and not until he faces that, can a relationship ever mend.

0nho

I don't know if you're still accepting prompts but 43? Thank you for your time. Ps: the drug one tho that has always been a plot bunny in my mind but you bought it to life and with so much angst I love you

Anonymous said to 0nho:Onho/43

43. falling in love with their best friend’s partner au

“Eunsook ssi!” Choi Minho quickly steps up beside a young woman, smile crooked and alarmingly dorky for a young man. He adjusts his backpack straps and asks “Are your bags heavy? Allow me.”

Lee Eunsook stops, left to watch Minho hussle the bags of shopping into his long arms. She laughs, brushing her hand over his lean muscle. With a smile upwards at him, Minho jolts with emotion.

“Should we get drinks?” Eunsook asks, pointing to a cafe.

Kim Junghee lags behind, attention on her cell phone. She doesn’t even glance up, “Sounds fine.”

Eunsook laughs and spins around, puffy summer dress twisting about. Long hair is tied up in the hot weather, revealing her face and beautiful features. “Junghee-ya.. unnie has no more money..”

Junghee looks away from her cell now, round eyes widening.

“I’ll pay!” Minho volunteers, nearly spilling the bags he carries while trying to dig for his wallet.

Eunsook smiles appreciatively and Junghee blinks at the display. Minho watches Eunsook leave for the stand as she recites their orders cutely under her breath. Junghee leans back against the railing Minho stands beside, as passersby ignore them.

“You’re doing it again..” Junghee mutters.

Minho feels a chill down his spine despite the sun beaming down over them. “Uh.. eh?”

Junghee titlis her head, glancing up at the tall male, like she has for years, knowing him better than that. The two have known each other since before middle school, because of a friendship between parents. Junghee is the older of the two, and often used that to her advantage, even when puberty struck and Minho grew bigger. Minho has had many fists thrown at his arms, to say the least.

“You are so obvious, you know?”

“Noona..” Minho looks down at Junghee, forcing awkward laughter. “I’m not doing anything, honest.”

Minho yelps as his shin is kicked by Junghee’s sneaker. “You’re ogling my girlfriend.”

Big eyes blink, Minho leaning back flabbergasted. It’s not the first time he’s been accused of such since Junghee began dating another woman for the first time. It was Minho she first confided in, to his surprised, that Junghee is bisexual. Junghee had to further elaborate for Minho to really understand, but he still found Junghee the same Junghee she has always been, so he didn’t feel any differently towards her. She’s a great friend.

But that friend is now dating the most gorgeous, perfect woman. She’s probably Minho’s soulmate. It doesn’t seem fair.

“Does Eunsook-ssi like men?”

Junghee laughs. “What’s it to you if she does or not? Besides, didn’t a girl just give you a number again?”

Minho still has a piece of paper somewhere with a woman’s number on it. It happens, that bold older women offer him numbers, but he hasn’t been looking. He’s still recovering from breaking up with a girlfriend. It’s been about a year though, and Eunsook has mended his heart–sorta; she’s not actually available at the moment.

“She’s so cute,” Junghee coos as Eunsook returns with a cookie in her mouth and arms full of drinks, walking in such a silly manner not to slip anything.

“Yeah..” Minho sighs, smile spreading.

“But she’s mine,” Junghee pushes off the railing, small body taking a step forward towards her girlfriend. So boldly and boorish she adds, “I’ll kick your ass if you forget it.”

Minho’s smile falls, left with heavy bags to carry and big eyes blinking, as two women flirt over a cookie he paid for in front of him.

0nho

onho, 34? I love your writing!!

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au

Music feels like it’s blaring to Minho’s ears; a distorted thumping in his dizzy head. A restrained body tries to move, but finds only weak attempts; flexed muscles nothing but thick tingles. He doesn’t understand why.

Why is the upper half of his face covered in a black lace mask, why is he on his back over a cushion, naked, legs bent upwards and spread wide only because of the leg sling he’s bound in, with wrist chained to each ankle.

Why is he here?

Noise of voices carry; delighted laughter, moans of pleasure, words in personal conversations.

Wet leaks from Minho’s sore backside, but he is unable to swipe the fluid away. His head feels light but body heavy. Minho grunts, noise drawn out into a whimper; a plea for the unusual and frightening sensation in his body stop.

Drinks–Minho remembers those. He recalls vaguely, the spinning room and chuckles as he swayed and lost his motor skills. So far under, Minho does not realize he has been drugged and suffering the affects of it.

An invitation to a masquerade ball had been offered to Minho, right on the streets, by a woman who stopped him and glanced him up and down before holding the envelope out. Minho decided to attended in a suit and mask, to see what it is the elite do for fun. He’s always gazed at the upper class with awe. They live so lavishly, offered what only those like Minho can dream of. They hold themselves in such a way, Minho has wished to imitate it–even tries, like in invasion to the ball.

Being asked to a back room for small talk and drinks felt an offer Minho couldn’t refuse, but he didn’t understand why when his faded suit and small mask wasn’t fancy like those of the elite class inviting him in.

But how could it lead to being exposed so lewdly. He wishes to move like normal.

As fingers of an unknown graze Minho’s skin he yelps, coming around enough now to be aware of what is happening to him. Minho tries to see through the dark lace, but the dim lighting of the room makes it impossible. Minho’s chest is touched, nipple pinched. Reaction to stimuli is heightened tremendously.

Minho cries out, head side to side, but binds keep him spread open on display, for whomever touches him. The sensation warms and tingles his body, all of it traveling unwilling below, forcing a gurgling moan from dry lips.

Minho tries to use words, but they only come out in cut off sounds and bitten lips. In his head words form, but somehow they leave his mouth nonsensical. The soft, running touch of a feather follows, over a cheek, across lips, circling down his chest and stomach in dirty threats.

Soon fingers gently poke at the exposed hole leaking cum from unknown sources. Minho bucks, wanting to lower long legs and press knees, but the restraints still resist his efforts. He can only choke out a whine, long lashes scraping the pretty lace mask over his eyes. His thin body flexes top to bottom, heaving breaths rising his chest.

A finger pushes in to the second knuckle, then the third deep, Minho gasping at the stinging burn. The finger thrusts in and out, eventually, dulling to a more pleasant sensation, but Minho’s mind still denies it’s what he wants. He’s not like this. He’s not supposed to be here.

The body relaxes into it, voice falling in admiring moans, long neck back, bob of an adam’s apple sharp each gulp for air. The mind drifts further away, accepting fate. Heat rises, pressure increases. Every part of him screams it feels good, so good, he can’t block them out–it’s overtaking.

Minho tenses when two fingers withdraw from his body to the sound of a commotion. The noise of glass shattering and grunts of a struggle. Minho’s mind comes alert again, as such as it can under the influence of a drug.

Minho is left there, still bent and spread by the lewd body sling. A warm hand touches his face, but in a gentle caress, then the scratch of the lace mask is shoved up his forehead. Big eyes blink under the dim lights, trying to adjust, but the squint remains. Coming into view is another face half-covered in a mask of feathers. Full lips are split with a dribble of blood.

“Minho ya?” the sweet, silky voice calls.

Minho knows that voice, but piercing through the haze of the drug is difficult. If he could reach for the man, Minho would, to yank off the mask. But tugging on wrists proves useless. The man breathes hard, suit disheveled and a shoulder clutched. Minho makes noises, but still no words form.

The mask is tilted up, revealing small eyes in a soft smile. Minho’s heart thumps faster. It’s Lee Jinki, Minho’s friend who is more like a brother, as they raised themselves in the cruelness of an overpopulated orphanage. Orphans are the dirt below the lower class; respect is hard to earn. Minho had invited Jinki to the ball, but Jinki had turned it down. Minho understood, Jinki doesn’t like to socialize so much; early life trauma has affected him in such a away. Jinki does not share the same fascinations of the elite class like Minho does.

Jinki and Minho have watched out for each other, where class divides the people severely. Jinki is hyung to Minho, but that doesn’t mean Jinki could always take care of himself on his own, even though he puts up a bright smile and assurance. But Jinki tries his best to tend to Minho, even now, after a foolish mistake.

But Jinki is here now. Minho finds a weak smile, chest lifted of the fearful weight. His sense of embarrassment to be found in such a sight by his hyung is mercifully dull. He can go home.

“I’m taking you home..”

Those words have never sounded better.

Jinki moves to fiddle with the leg sling, trying to untie Minho. Even though he gave up on crying years ago, eyes now water with tears of relief. He can go home, wash all the filth away, and lay beside Jinki’s warmth; try to forget every tingling touch and tight thrust. He will never think of the upper class the same. All the bitter youths in abandoned orphanages, often said to be unwanted children of the elite, were right in those dark thoughts. Minho has been too naive.

The sudden thunk and weight of Jinki falling into Minho has the younger lifting his weighted head with concern, to find men picking Jinki up, dragging his unconscious body way. Minho’s tongue slips over his mouth, wanting to call for them to stop and leave his hyung alone.

“What a fool. Strip him and put him out on display. Half-price for his sorry ass.”

A heart sinks, and no amount of struggle gets him anywhere closer to being freed. The the dim lights of the room grows darker as a bulky man in a mask and fitted suit leans over Minho. The lace mask is pushed back down Minho’s face, covering his eyes. A cheek is caressed, but feeling nothing like Jinki’s warm touch. The palm slaps in a rough patting.

“Did you honestly think orphans would be invited to socialize with the elite class?” he chuckles, “Thank you for bringing another toy.”

A dissolving tablet is put in Minho’s mouth, then a hand held over his face, to force it into his body. The influence will cloud him again, to be mindless, as the upper class use him and his hyung for their twisted games.

Of course Jinki would come looking for Minho when he didn’t return when promised. Minho lead hyung right into a trap. It will never be forgivable.

0nho

31. 😈 There's two ways to play this imo: Professional stud Jinki and inexperienced young man Minho who's never done this before. Young butterfly (prostitute) Minho who's fresh out of the chrysalis and has only had one or two vanilla clients. Is booked by sexual hurricane Jinki who Minho is totally not prepared for and leaves him with battered wings and the expectation for more. Go as angst and dark or as comedy as you like. Maybe both? Dark comedy.

31. prostitute/client au

Lee Jinki wrings small hands ever so nervously. The hallway is dim, shadowing him a bit. It makes sense, as he’s in an underground place that isn’t supposed to exist. They lay low from the law. Jinki is a young man, but thirty is creeping up on him, and he’s having his mid-life crisis early.

He had a girlfriend, sorta, but it never felt quite right. Parents pressure to marry has had him on blind dates. A blowjob in a karaoke room as a date was fine–felt good even, but her face glancing up at him, Jinki couldn’t cum. She wasn’t ugly, so why was there a struggle? Something is missing, something important.

So that’s why Jinki is here, in this place, fixing his glasses and shrugging shoulders hidden behind thick layers of disguise. It rings back to memories of puberty. It was a difficult time in Jinki’s life, and no sibling to compare himself to. Was he wrong or right in the way he felt about things, or did it make his dirty?

On the walls with colored lights hangs photos; general information on each member the special club offers. A medium sized picture of a face, height, weight and penis size, along with a small blurb on a speciality. Like one fellow: 69, oral, bareback.

Jinki glances them all over, unsure what to pick. It’s overwhelming and he’s working up an anxious sweat.

“Sir, are you ready?”

“Yes!” Jinki squeaks. He’s not ready, but the woman chewing her gum and furrowing brows has him hurried.

Jinki steps up to the counter, where the woman is behind glass for protection, he guesses. She wears a costume it seems, horns and ears with speckled spots. “You’re a cow,” Jinki blurts out.

The woman blows a bored bubble, face in some sort of permanent stretch from plastic surgery, by the looks of it. “It’s theme night, tiger.”

Jinki smiles wide, laughter falling between clenched teeth. The woman looks him up and down, judging him, but keeps her score silent. He feels he should just run back up those dark stairs and never look back. Mistake–mistake–his mind shouts.

“So what will it be?”

“Um.. uh..” Jinki quickly looks over the faces beneath the counter, all pictures lined up neatly under glass, like an ice cream shop. He’s still indecisive. A stubby finger presses to a picture with unusually big eyes. “This one,” he has to chose something.

“Ming?” the woman looks to her computer screen, typing and clicking a mouse around. “Ah–yes, that room is currently available. What do you want–an hour? Two hours?”

He has to decide on time now, too? How long does it take, as he’s not experienced enough to measure it. A good wank doesn’t take that along. Jinki stands in thought, and would surely be holding up a line if there was one. “Two,” he holds up two fingers. An even number is a safe bet.

“Alright.”

Jinki pulls out his wallet, as nothing is free. He is sure to pay with printed money, to keep as anonymous as possible. Jinki’s putting his wallet back, as the woman speaks up.

“He’s picky about bareback.” She pulls up a string of small wrappers, smile stretched thin. “Would you be interested in purchasing some condoms?”

Chewing lips, and feeling he is being bled dry, Jinki retrieves his wallet once more, digging out the last of his cash for some condoms. He supposes it’s for the best; he’s honestly not sure what he’s walking into. Directions are given to the room he has rented–or rather, the person. It’s not really a proud moment for Jinki, but it’s a necessity.

Now standing outside the door, in that same dim light, Jinki is met with the same sort of wall poster, only this time a bigger photo. A young man with a small face, large eyes and slightly styled dark hair falling over his brow. The word ‘pretty’ comes to mind. But it is a man; one that is quite tall, but thin–or so the weight stats lists. His penis size isn’t intimidating either. That much is a relief. The name next to the picture is “Minho”, with “Ming” in parentheses beside it. Special skills include: smiling a lot and aegyo, among others.

Jinki’s unsure he has fetishes, but this place seems to be full of them. A door squeaks down the hall, and out comes a middle aged man adjusting his clothing and looking flushed in the face. Jinki ducks his head, as does the man, refusing eye contact in a place such as this. The hallway soon goes quiet again.

Money is being wasted just standing outside. Jinki gulps, clammy hands taking the doorknob where above it reads “vacancy”. The door is opened slowly, first revealing much brighter lighting he squints into.

Inside is a small room one steps up into from the entryway, mostly lined of pillows and a floor that’s a washable mat. Jinki inhales the scent of air freshener and disinfectant mixed together. A gaze lowers, eyes wide finding what he paid for sitting on bare knees, body covered in a baggy, white button up, and hair not the same as the picture implied. Bleached in a sweet honey blond the small head is, with brown cat ears attached, and from behind a matching fluffy tail. The colors enhance smooth, tan skin.

A collar jingles around a long, thin neck, as the young man moves. “Yaong~ hello!” Minho greets, voice unexpectedly deep for such a face, but speech slurry like a kid.

Jinki feels weak in the knees.

Minho smiles, little teeth bright and eyes big, and the bleached hair only adds a pinch of sweetness to an already cute face. Jinki tried to keep it together. He’s already feeling arousal. It’s embarrassing. Glasses are pushed back, and Jinki fumbles out of shoes at the tiny entry, door closing behind him.

It’s theme night, that’s what he was told at the front desk. That’s why he has a kitty crawling around him, taking in his scent, rubbing his legs, giving a chortling purr. Jinki’s loose sweats are pulled down, briefs slipping with them, and out springs a half-hard dick, which he doesn’t know why he looks at with surprise, but it shocks him.

Jinki looks down at wide eyes gawk in awe, pretty petal lips parted. It’s such a different sensation than with a woman, even if this face is as beautiful as one.

“You.. you are really big..” Minho whispers, gaze questioning and alarmed. But it’s gone in a flash, as lips smile again, and eyes brighten.

Jinki is a bit embarrassed, but also bustling with some sort of pride, the sort that arouses him terribly. Children use to laugh and Jinki soon grew self-conscious about it and tried to hide it. But in this moment, be feels confident.

Jinki braces himself at a wall, glasses slipping down his nose, as he stares while the kitty engulfs him, wet with a textured tongue, hands stroking with pulsing squeezes where his mouth has yet to reach. He can’t hide his pitched voice gasping like death has come to claim him. It’s so much better than he thought it could be. A muffled moan below vibrates to his core; Jinki re-braces himself.

Blond hair looks light and bouncy as a small head bobs, and cheeks hollow when big eyes glance up from behind lashes longer than Jinki has seen on girls, and he’s positive they are real. The sensitive tip is sucked between kissing lips, foreskin tugged back and forth, then a small face disappears to press sucking kisses to his sack. Knees feel they could buckle.

Jinki is about to squeak a warning, that if kept up, he won’t last. Why did he pick two hours?

The kitty pulls off, moving to turn around on all fours, and Jinki gasps a large breath. Minho’s backside is raised, fluffy tail attached to a plug inside his small, but plump ass swinging. Jinki’s head tilts, eyes peering over glasses, as Minho slowly slurs out each letter of a name, writing it in the air with his ass and swaying tail.

“M-I-N-G~ yaoong~ call me Ming~.”

Jinki fumbles to drag the condoms from his pocket, as Minho sits back, his lips bitten and throat bubbling laughter. He crawls back towards Jinki, reaching out for him.

“Cum,” Minho laps a long lick over Jinki’s hard length, “Whenever you want.. don’t hold back.”

Jinki is in the kitty’s wet mouth again, then his sensitive tip down a contracting throat. Jinki cries out. Minho pulls off with a slurp, composing himself with an apologetic look. The eagerness is flattering, but Jinki only has one life, unlike a kitty.

Jinki only means to take a step upward from the entry, but it ends in a stumble, falling onto the kitty, sprawling them both out over the mat and pillows with yelps and flying wrapped rubbers.

Minho laughs shakingly hard, warming Jinki from the inside out. Glasses barely hang from his face, and Jinki’s eyes crinkle up in a smile as he comes to find laughter also, beginning to relax, despite his shaky nerves of earlier. Long legs wrap around Jinki, and a tongue licks his jaw, up to his ear where tiny teeth nibble and breath his hot.

“Yaong~.”

“I’ve never done this before..” Jinki spills out.

The deep voice drops the play, tone serious, though still gentle. “Ming will take care of you–please relax.”

So Jinki does, feeling a glow of confidence bloom within.

0nho

His handwriting is amazing. I would like onho 3 pls.

3. teacher/student au

Minho rolls his head, lips puckered and hands swinging in a large, white lab coat, taking a few moments to himself down a long hallway of the hospital. It’s only been a few months since he’s been put on the floor, as a medical student, and it really is different than simple having one’s nose in a book all hours. Minho really did think that was just an overused expression. The joke–like many–is on him.

He has just left a visit to the children’s ward, where he sometimes peeks in on downtime, because children’s laughter is an easy mood brightener and they laugh at his jokes, unlike most adults. At least children think he’s entertaining.

There is the sudden noise of sneakers squeaking against clean floors, and Minho having no time to react as he’s tugged on, arms around his neck, pulling him down against a shorter figure, face squished into a warm neck. His foot moves, knee bumping into a medical cart left on the wall out of the way, until now.

The scent of cologne gives away it’s a man. As Minho pushes on the wall the man leans back against, he is not released, and the hold on him tightens as more footsteps approach, more calmly, and the voices of women are heard.

“–I literally had to buy him another engagement ring after he lost the first down the drain,” a woman groans, sounding like the usual gossip among nurses.

“I’m surprised you lasted that long.”

“I almost married him..”

A pretty voice is laced with detest, “To think–you almost married a bisexual–”

The body refusing to let Minho go stiffens considerably, as Minho’s own lab coat falls around them.

“–he probably would have left you for a man.”

One sighs heavily. “Ehh.. I’m just taking a break from men for a while, yeah?”

The laughter of the two fades down the hallway, as they turn a corner together, carrying on.

Finally, Minho is released, and he quickly pushes himself away, eyes wide and ready to demand an explanation, but he finds a senior doctor, Lee Jinki, who has taught his class some days, causing many students to laugh at his fun medical jokes. His lab coat is disheveled and glasses crooked, looking anxious.

Minho bows respectively, but still horrible confused why he was grabbed at.

“You tell a girl you want to spend the rest of your life with her–and it slips out you’re bi, and there goes all the future plans, heh.”

Minho blinks big eyes, hands fiddling with the stethoscope draped over shoulders, not sure where to begin. He’s no specailist on love or sexulaity. The last time he had a girlfriend was in middle school, and found quickly he didn’t care about it, nor in high school, all the way to present. He’s wondered if there is an answer to what is wrong with him–if anything, in all the books he drifts off reading for classes. Hormonal imbalance? Maybe that’s it. He’s still looking for an answer though. But right now his job is to fix other people.

Jinki ruffles his lab coat and presses at glasses, giving a hefty sigh. A wide smile follows, looking like the beaming teacher Minho remembers.

“That is neither here nor there. Thanks for the–uh, save there…” Jinki leans forward, peeking at Minho’s i.d. tag hanging from a chest pocket.

“Choi Minho…–ah! You!”

Minho forces a small smile, hand rubbing behind an ear nervously.

“The student that read a patient’s chart wrong and nearly killed him, yeah? That’s you?”

There really is no escape. It is true, in his eagerness to impress and show skill improvement, he fumbled–deeply and regrettably. And Minho apologized profusely to the elderly man once he was recovered, bowing himself out the door repeatedly. It is not a pleasant memory, but word spreads around this hospital, apparently. “I– yeah, that is me..”

Jinki nods, lips pressing. His voice evens out smooth, adding, “It gets easier, trust me. Someday you’ll have people thanking you for saving their lives.”

It seems to be genuine advice, so Minho bows his head with gratitude. In the silence, the noise of a phone buzzing goes off. Jinki quickly reaches into his coat pocket, dragging out phone.

“Ah,” fingers dust through dark hair. “I’m being paged.”

Minho steps back, sure to be fully out of the doctor’s way.

Jinki speeds off into a run down the hall, once again like a bat out of hell, but spins around as he slows a bit, shoulders shrugging and smile reaching crinkled eyes behind glasses. He holds up two stubby fingers. “Two things–don’t date someone where you work, it could be a huge mistake. And you and I–let’s do coffee sometime.”

Minho nods, palm lifted in a wave. He feels a bit like he’s being asked on a date, and that thought makes him chuckle, much like how he laughs when Jinki is around and loses his hard earned concentration.

Of all the teachers in medical school Minho has met, Doctor Lee Jinki is quite memorable. Minho holds his chin high the rest of his stroll down the hallway.

0nho

Angsty Onho for 44?

Anonymous said to 0nho: Number 44 Onho please ;-;

Anonymous said to 0nho: Onho 44 please ☺

44. one of them being diagnosed with a terminal illness au

Lee Jinki wakes to the noise of crashes and and an angry, muffled cry. He sits up and pushes on slippers before leaving the bedroom of his apartment to seek out the commotion. It’s not a difficult guess as to what is going on.

Jinki leans against a hallway wall, peering out into the bright lights of the main room, finding books, Jinki’s own common empty bottles of alcohol, and the center table turned up across the floor. Already Choi Minho, Jinki’s friend for years and lover nearly two, is crouched to clean up the mess.

“Is everything alright out here?” Jinki wears a smile, trying to poke some humor.

Minho glances over his shoulder, looking bewildered and apologetic. “I woke you? I’m sorry. You should go back to bed, I’ll handle this.”

“You’ve been handling a lot lately,” Jinki would offer to help, but he does feel pains in his body wake also, leaving him ready to sit again. He can’t say he ever imagined it would be this way. “Are you sure?”

The sight of the mess is no accident. Minho is living day to day with stress Jinki can’t recall ever being capable of bearing himself. That is why he has always admired Minho’s strength. But Minho is still only human, and he has limits. That limit has already been crossed and it pains Jinki to watch such a thing, when he’s supposed to be living these days to the fullest.

“I’m just a little frustrated with graduation coming up. I’m thinking..” Minho looks over his shoulder again, big eyes unable to mask his nerves. “I’ll take the rest of the year off. I’ll graduate next year.”

“No,” Jinki stands upright, soft, sleepy expression of before hardening to a frown. “Don’t do that because of me.”

“What does it matter–you won’t see me graduate anyway.” Minho blinks suddenly wide eyes. His inner thoughts slipped out, already worn thin.

It’s true though. Jinki was given a few months tops, and that’s a few months too short to watch Minho graduate. It was Jinki who saw Minho through his academic struggles, who cheered him on at college exams and celebrated with him after receiving his letter into a nice university. Little faith was put in Minho’s education, because no one wanted to believe it didn’t come natural when his family history is of high achievers. So why should one family member struggle so much; obviously he is just lazy and preoccupied with frivolous things.

“You understand that, without me, live still goes on, right? The world doesn’t stop. It never does–for anyone.” The younger should graduate, go on to build a career, be successful in life.

“Well it should,” Minho argues, standing as the table is back on its feet and moving to a basket near the tv, digging out a half-used box of cigarettes. He pinches one out and presses it between lips.

Jinki nearly snarls with disgust, as he’s viewed Minho since they met as to do as Jinki says not as he does. It came natural with Jinki’s older age. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Now,” Minho mutters over the cigarette, digging for a lighter.

Jinki plucks the unlit smoke from Minho’s lips. “Then get your own. You won’t smoke mine.”

Minho frowns, looking exhausted this closeup. Big eyes droop with heavy bags and cheekbones are more pronounced due to some weight loss. Jinki puts the smoke between his own lips, digging himself for his old lighter. As Minho tries to take the cigarette, Jinki lurches his head back, brow furrowed.

“I think I deserve the right to smoke. It won’t change anything now.”

“What do I deserved?”

Jinki answers without having to think. “To be happy.”

“But I won’t be happy without you!” Minho crumbles further. “You’re not even thirty and you’re dying! We were supposed to do so much still! You are being taken away! Why are you okay with this!”

Jinki blinks, lips parting to dangle the smoke, taken aback. It’s not their first argument over Jinki appearing ‘too calm’ for what is really going on, because Minho is more emotional than first impressions give, but Jinki’s state now is too weak to take it with a straight face.

“You can’t go..” Minho’s cracked voice quiets, eyes blinking wet, because he’s never wanted to cry in front of others. “Why can’t the doctors fix it..”

Jinki digs for his lighter again, more aggressively, because any time he’s accepted his fate and thinks he’s come to terms with it, he finds he honestly has not. He is going to die–soon, he will be so sick he won’t be able to move, and then like that die in a hospital bed, leaving behind family and all his future plans. He hates it and it scares him, and he can’t face himself leaving Minho behind alone. He needs a drink–to get really smashed again, or at least this simple smoke.

Minho tugs Jinki away from his search, pulling him into a hug he needs but doesn’t want. He wiggles, trying to free himself, but his strength is already depleting and his head spins by the exerted efforts. A whimpering sigh has the smoke fallen from his parted lips. The shorter man is held tightly, as if to never let go, and Jinki’s eyes leak tears then.

Jinki’s shoulder is nuzzled, the voice near him a low whisper. “Sometimes, I think because I pressured you into this sort of relationship, we are being punished.” Minho sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

Jinki reaches around Minho’s back, hugging him also. “Please don’t think that. I’ve been happy–like this with you–I’ve been so happy.” Jinki nods to himself, telling the truth.

Jinki sniffs, trying to pull it all back in. It’s not good for his health, but it’s something he’s done all his life. It’s a hard habit to break.

“You know…” in the quiet Jinki relaxes against Minho, happy to be supported by his firm body. He smiles genuinely, through the blinked tears. “I won’t be mad if you want to skip classes next week to go on a trip with me.” Jinki barely makes it into work anymore. He will probably be fired before he can resign, so a trip out of the hectic city would be refreshing.

“Really?” Minho muffles laughter against Jinki’s neck, rocking them mildly in the warm hug now.

“I’ve been feeling like a visit to the countryside. What do you think?”

Jinki is held back, head cupped by Minho’s hands so thumps can swipe fallen tears. Minho still blinks wet eyes, but his smile brightens his small face beautifully.

“I will go anywhere with you, Jinki ya.”

Jinki’s heart beats faster.

“And–I want to tell our families about us.”

Jinki’s heart sinks. Not for himself–not at this point, but for Minho’s safety and comfort. Who will be there when he’s gone if bad rumors are started or support withdrawn. But of the two, it isn’t unexpected that Minho is the first to suggest it, after all it was the same who confessed to Jinki how he has liked him ‘more than friends’ for years but wasn’t sure how to explain himself and feared ruining a friendship.

The confession falls into the top moments of Jinki’s life; very sweet but shy, and in every way the dear friend he knows. Jinki hadn’t been sure back then, and such intimacy on that level frightening, but he’s glad he gave the sort of relationship a chance. It has gotten him through the news from doctors and the extra support he’s needed.

“Minho ya..” Jinki reaches Minho’s hand, cupping it.

“Let’s at least think about it? But first enjoy a vacation.” Minho’s head tilts with an endearing grin. “With lots of country bbq.”

Jinki laughs, giving a vicarious nod of approval, then he leans in on tiptoes to press a quick kiss between Minho’s cheek and lips.

Minho pecks a kiss of laughter to Jinki’s lips, then helps usher the older back to bed, where Jinki keeps Minho wrapped around him softly telling a story he’s heard many times, drifting back into peaceful sleep.

The new path in Jinki cut-short future is a terrifying one, but with this person at his side, Jinki thinks he can face anything. He wants to live from now till then without regrets.

0nho

5. Onho (trans man Minho) not too angsty, please :*

5. one night stand and falling pregnant au

“But you’re a guy..” Lee Jinki tries to rub sleep from his small eyes, hair a frizzy mess and vision awful without glasses on at this time of the day. It’s early weekend, after a night of heavy drinking and he did not expect a guy he knows from uni on his doorstep with a bad joke. It’s just too early.

“I’m not kidding around.”

“Are you sure, cause your jokes are bad and this is, well, bad.”

“Why did I even sleep with you?”

Jinki leans even heavier into the wall, bathrobe played with as his crinkly-eyed, cheek grin beams. Minho hides his face in a palm, looking away. Jinki recalls charming his way into Choi Minho’s life. It was easy.

“This isn’t a joke. You think a doctor would be in on it too?” Minho holds up the tiny, grainy ultrasound picture again.

“You said yourself you are a guy,” which Jinki doesn’t hold any ill feelings towards. He himself was a late bloomer and still can’t pin down his own sexuality.

“With a vagina and all the parts, remember?”

Jinki holds up hands defensively. How could he forget. It was a bit of a big surprise. Not a sprung on during sex sort of surprise, but a night of drinking lead to the confession, and everything made a lot more sense. Like decent looking pecs are actual small bound breasts. It made the sex unforgettable, in Jinki’s opinion, but Minho’s lack of contact with him after and avoiding on campus had him sure it wasn’t likewise.

“You said I could cum inside.”

It’s still cute when Minho gets huffin and puffin. Jinki feels too hungover to deal with the resurfacing that he likes Minho more than he thinks it the other way around.

“I thought my T would make it okay!”

Jinki isn’t trans or on hormones but his own, so he has nothing to add.

“Jinki hyung, I’m telling you I’m pregnant with your baby–do you understand?”

Jinki squints small eyes and rubs his head.

“You are going to be a father.”

“…and you too~.”

Jinki is pleased he has Minho speechless. It’s Lee Jinki’s talent. As Minho starts to cry though, Jinki pushes off the wall, eyes wide, trying become more alert. He cups Minho’s chubby cheeks, feeling the slight stubble and now close enough to see the distress in big, pretty eyes. Jinki squishing cheeks, voice a hum as he asks the younger not to cry.

“I don’t want to do this alone..” Minho’s voice cracks in a quiver, carrying a weight Jinki hasn’t thought about as deeply as he should have. It must have been scary coming out and beginning a transition. How much support has Minho had? “..please…”

“I’m really hungover and I’m not sure if this is real life yet, but I won’t make you do anything alone. Minho ya.”

Jinki is pulled into a hug, and Minho is as warm and smells as good as Jinki remembers. Whatever the case may be, he quite likes Choi Minho a lot, and Jinki will try his best to not let him down.

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