Days had passed, and the tension between you and Chan grew unbearable.
You had tried contacting him, but he’d buried himself in his work, refusing to answer your calls or texts, and every attempt to approach him in person was met with cold indifference.
It was as if he had sealed himself off from you completely, and the guilt gnawed at your insides like a festering wound.
It wasn’t until one late evening, when you found yourself standing outside the studio again, that you realized something had to give. You couldn’t let things end like this - not over a misunderstanding, not when you cared about him so much.
When you loved him so much.
Pushing open the door, you saw him sitting at the same desk, headphones on, eyes glued to his laptop screen. The music played softly in the background, but the atmosphere was anything but peaceful.
You cleared your throat, and when he didn’t react, you took a deep breath and spoke.
"Chan, please. We need to talk."
For a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you again, but then he pulled off his headphones and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were tired, and there were dark circles beneath them, evidence of sleepless nights.
"There’s nothing to talk about," he muttered, turning back to his screen.
“Please,” you said, your voice pleading. "Please."
He tensed, when he heard the hurt in your voice, and then sighed, pushing the chair back but not looking at you, his shoulders tense. He turned to you, his brown eyes tired and sad.
"I’m sorry," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. Afraid if you spoke any louder it might shatter.
“I didn’t realize how much you were carrying, and my words...I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t see everything you do. Because I do, baby. I see and appreciate everything."
He flinched at your words, but remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. You sniffed and wiped the tears you had so miserably failed to keep in. You missed him. Even if only for a few days it felt like eons.
“I know you’re the leader, and I know you have the weight of so much responsibility on your shoulders,” you continued, wiping your eyes, as more tears fell. “But you don’t have to do it all alone. You don’t always have to be strong. I can be strong for you too if you just ask.”
You hiccup, trying to control your shaky voice. "I want you to ask I don't want you to hurt anymore. Please...you can ask for help too. You don't always have to take everything on yourself. I only said what I said because I wanted to convey how upset I was seeing you tire yourself out, Chan-I...I don't want you to be tired anymore."
You were furiously wiping at your face, feeling like a child not able to properly convey their emotions.
“You don’t have to carry that burden by yourself. You’re not alone in this. The members, your fans, me...we’re all here for you. Please just ask us. We'll do anything for you.”
Chan's hands fidgeted in his lap. You felt the urge to run into his arms- you selfishly wanted to have him comfort you. When he was the one who needed comfort in this moment.
"I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry-" You weep. "I miss you, Channie...so much...I don't want you to be mad at me anymore. I'm sorry. I really am..."
For the first time in days, his eyes met yours, and the raw emotion swirling within them took your breath away.
“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking, muffled by the sleeve of his sweater, which his face was buried in. “I’m scared that if I stop, everything will fall apart. That if I’m not there, something will go wrong, and it’ll be my fault. And that if I ask for help and things go wrong; you'll be to blame when you've done nothing wrong.” His voice was low and sad, and you could tell by the tightness of it he was trying to hold back tears as well.
Your heart ached as you listened to his confession, realizing just how much he had been hiding behind his calm exterior. How he took on stress to make sure any possible stressors wouldn't arise for those he loved and cared for.
"Oh, baby..."
He closed his eyes, his body trembling as the weight of his fears and insecurities finally crashed down around him.
He then looked up at your eyes that mirrored his own.
It seemed like the sadness in yours took his breath away too. Seemed like it shattered all the resolve he had left as he stood up and you launched himself into your arms, pulling him so close that your bodies would have melded together if possible.
You hiccupped out more sobs as you clung to him.
For a moment- a split second he wanted to remain angry, and he resisted -but then he collapsed against you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice muffled against your shirt. His tears wetting it. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I never mean to do that baby, I'm sorry.”
You held him tighter, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered, “It’s okay. I promise.”
You stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding each other in the dimly lit studio as the walls between you slowly crumbled. And in that moment, you knew that no matter how heavy the weight on his shoulders was, you would always be there to help him carry it.
The next morning, the air between you and Minho was still thick with tension. You had barely slept, and when you shuffled into the kitchen, you found him already there, making coffee in silence. He didn’t even look up when you entered the room.
You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. The weight of last night’s conversation hung between you like an invisible barrier, and every second that passed without him acknowledging you made the distance feel even greater.
He slid over a cup of coffee to you without as much as looking at you, and as you held the warm drink in your hands they began to tremble.
"Minho..." you began, your voice hesitant, unsure how to approach him. “Can we talk?” Your fingers tapped against the cup nervously.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow sip of his coffee, his throat working, and eyes fixed on the countertop. For a moment, you wondered if he would ignore you altogether, but then, without turning, he spoke.
“What exactly do you want to talk about?” His voice was flat, and that cold edge you feared had settled firmly in place.
You bit your lip, nervousness and guilt warring inside you. “What I said last night...it came out wrong. I didn’t mean-”
“You think I’m cold,” he interrupted, finally turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but the hurt in the brown eyes you loved so much was impossible to miss. “It’s fine. I get it. I’ve heard it before. Its nothing to take to heart.”
You shook your head, stepping closer to him. “No, you don’t get it. I don’t think you’re cold. I know you’re not.” Your fingers gripped the cup to the point your hands were hot, and you set the cup down so you wouldn't drop it.
Minho bit his lip now. “Really? Because that’s not what it sounded like last night.”
You took another step toward him, your heart aching at how distant he felt, even when you were standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn't mean it al all.”
He looked away, his jaw tightening as he leaned back against the counter. “It’s not about what you said,” he muttered, his voice low as he looked at his coffee. “It’s about the fact that...maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s all people see when they look at me. Thats all they ever say so when you said it- the person I love most in this world...it made it feel...true.”
His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hear the vulnerability in his voice - the fear of being misunderstood, of being seen as something he wasn’t. Because he truly wasn't.
And suddenly, you understood how deeply your careless words had cut him.
You reached out, gently placing your hand on his arm. This time, he didn’t pull away, but his gaze remained fixed on the floor. He set his coffee down as you searched for words to say.
“Love, look at me,” you said softly, your voice trembling. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. Something sparking when he saw the shine in yours.
“You’re not cold,” you said firmly, holding his gaze. “You're - not cold at all." You swallowed the knot trying to form. "You’re kind. You’re thoughtful. You care about the people around you more than anyone realizes. And maybe you don’t always show it in the way people expect, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. I see it. All the time.” The knot was relentless and made a home there, your voice breaking slightly.
He stared at you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if your words were getting through. But then, slowly, his shoulders slumped, and the tension seemed to drain out of him. He allowed you to hold his hands.
“It’s just...hard sometimes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be any other way. I'm not cold I just...aren't feelings a precious thing? I don't know how to not be the way I am. It feels normal to be 'serious' and 'cold' like people say. I don't feel that way. I feel loved and loving. I just don't show it off in...big ways...” He swallowed. "Maybe that makes me mean and cold."
Your heart broke at his confession. You had always known Minho to be one who kept his emotions in check, one who always seemed to have everything under control. But now, standing in front of you, he seemed so vulnerable, so...human. Which you had always seen him as.
“You’re not mean or cold,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. You pursed your lips to keep yourself from crying, but it didn't work. “You’re human. It's okay to have different ways of showing emotions and letting people in. I'm sorry I made you feel that way.”
He looked at you, his eyes softening as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble. “I forgive you, lovely. I was just being petty...I’m sorry I shut you out,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek. “I just...didn’t know how to deal with it. I don't want you to ever see me that way.”
You pouted, you bottom lip jutting out as you cried silently, your brows furrowed to try to stop yourself mid cry.
For the first time since last night, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips and Minho chuckled quietly. He moved his thumb to your lip and looked at you.
"It's going to get stuck that way, Darling." He kissed them and then pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he rested his chin on top of your head, rubbing circles on your back gently as you sniffled into his chest.
“It's okay my love,” he promised softly. “I’m sorry I scared you by ignoring you.” He said guessing the exact reason why you were crying. "Shh, it's okay. It's all going to be okay..." He cooed softly as he rocked you back in forth. "I love you. So much. I love you." He placed a soft kiss on your head, and you buried into him further earning a laugh.
In that moment, everything felt right again. The weight of the misunderstanding lifted, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet understanding that, no matter how sharp his edges, you would always find a way to soften them.
The next morning, the apartment was eerily quiet. Changbin hadn’t come out of the bedroom since last night, and you had spent the night tossing and turning on the couch, unable to shake the guilt that weighed heavily on your chest.
You knew you had hurt him, but what made it worse was that you hadn’t even realized how deep his insecurities ran. Changbin was always so strong, so confident - but now, you saw the cracks in the armor he wore every day. And it hurt you that you had hurt him.
You took a deep breath, gathering your courage before walking to the bedroom door. You knocked softly, your heart pounding in your chest.
“Changbin?” you called out quietly. “Can I come in?”
There was a long pause before you heard him say, “Come in.”
When you opened the door, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. He didn’t look up when you entered, and the sight of him like that broke your heart all over again.
You sat down beside him the bed dipping, close but not touching, waiting for him to speak first since it seemed all the words left your mind.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry for last night,” he said quietly, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I overreacted.” His voice was sad and quiet and you felt the power of the initial guilt amplify tenfold.
You shook your head, the tears threatening to spill making it hard to speak. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough. That’s the last thing I would ever want to do, Binnie, please believe me.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, still not looking at you. “It’s not your fault. I just...I’ve always felt like I have to prove myself, and becoming an idol made that even harder, you know? Like I have to be the best since everyone is watching now. And when you said that...it just hit me in the worst way. Because it's you.”
You nodded, understanding dawning on you. “You’ve always been hard on yourself.”
Changbin let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, maybe too hard. But I don’t know how to be any other way. I feel like if I stop, if I’m not constantly pushing myself, then...I’ll lose everything. I tried so hard to get.” His eyes met yours.
Your chest tightened at his words. You knew how much he put into his work, how much he cared about being successful, not just for himself, but for everyone around him. But hearing him say it out loud, hearing the fear and vulnerability in his voice - it was almost too much to bear.
“You won’t lose anything, let alone me.” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. You had noticed the look in his eyes and wanted him to be assured that you would never leave him. “You’re already so much more than enough, baby. You’re talented, hardworking, and you care so much about everyone around you. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Especially not me. Or the guys. Or your family. We all see how much you put in everything.”
He finally looked up at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “Sometimes, it feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. And when you said what you did...it felt like you were confirming it. And you're the...last person I would want to hear the from.” His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he put his forearm to his eyes. "Damn, I didn't want to cry." He mumbled. "Give me a second."
You squeezed his hand and waited for him to collect himself. Once he did you spoke, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. I never wanted to hurt you. You mean so much to me, and I think you’re incredible just the way you are. More than I deserve, BinBin. Truly.”
Changbin’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing. “I know you didn’t mean it. I was just...in my head. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for a while.”
He let out a long breath, the weight of his insecurities finally surfacing. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. Especially you.”
Your heart ached at his words, and you gently cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You could never disappoint me, Changbin. I love you for who you are, not for how hard you work or how much you achieve. You’re enough, just as you are.” You look into his eyes. "You may not be perfect, but everything about you is perfect to me."
His eyes shined, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to break. But instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. You held him close, feeling his body relax against yours as the tension finally melted away.
“I’m sorry I shut you out,” he whispered against your neck. “I just didn’t know how to handle it.” His lips brushed against it softly and you felt a warmth wash over you.
You pressed a kiss to his temple just as gently, your heart swelling with love for him. “It’s okay. I'm sorry as well.”
Changbin pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I'm going to talk to you more about this stuff. I don’t want to keep shutting you out.” He kissed you again, but this time on your lips, and you felt a wetness.
You smiled softly, brushing away stray tears from his cheeks and lips. “I’m always here for you, no matter what. And I mean always baby.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss, as if sealing the promise between you. Then moving into a slow and lazy kisses as he pulled you down onto the bed with him.
You stayed there, cuddled together and kissing until the early afternoon, everything just as perfect as the man beside you.
The hours dragged on painfully after Hyunjin had left you standing in the kitchen. The apartment felt too big, too empty without him, and your mind kept replaying the argument over and over again, picking apart every word you had said, every hurtful implication that had slipped out.
You hadn’t meant to wound him. Whenever you had wounded him, you never did it intentionally. You loved him too much to do that.
You had only wanted to comfort him; to let him know he didn’t have to bear the weight of perfection like he thought he had to. You didn't want him to continue working himself to the bone; making himself tired trying to fit a mold that others wanted to fit him into. But instead, you had used your words to unintentionally cut deeper into the very insecurities he worked so hard to keep hidden.
It was nearing midnight when you finally heard the soft sound of the bedroom door opening. Hyunjin stepped out, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He looked fragile, vulnerable in a way that broke your heart all over again.
“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, his voice so small it made your chest tighten with guilt.
You nodded quickly, standing up from the couch. “Of course. Of course.”
He walked over to you, sitting down on the couch beside you, though there was still a noticeable space between you. Hyunjin seemed hesitant, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his oversized sweater. He then laid his head into your lap. You hesitantly threaded your fingers through his hair, until he leaned into your touch, letting you do it freely. The silence was thick, heavy with unspoken words and raw emotions.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he began, his voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. I was...I was scared.”
You blinked, surprised by his confession, your hand pausing. “Scared? Of what?”
Hyunjin swallowed hard, his eyes half lidded as he spoke. “Scared that you see me the same way I see myself. Flawed. Not good enough. I’ve always had this fear...this feeling like I’ll never be able to live up to the version of me that people expect. And when you said what you did, I thought...I thought it was proof that even you felt that way. And I don't want you to feel like that about me. At all.” He whined quietly.
Tears welled up in your eyes again as you listened to him. You had known Hyunjin struggled with self-doubt- struggled with the fact that people only saw him as a pretty face- a perfect face, but hearing him lay it all out like this, so raw and vulnerable, made your heart ache for him.
“I would never think that,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand with your free one. “You’re everything to me, Hyunjin. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, or your weren't fitting the mold others want you to fit. I only said what I did because I hate seeing you push yourself so hard. I want you to be happy. I don't want you to see yourself as flawed. We all are- but how is that any different. I love you. I don't want you to be perfect- I want you to be you.”
He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with so much pain that it made your breath catch in your throat. “But what if I’m not good enough as me?”
Your heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice, and you squeezed his hand tighter, shaking your head, swallowing. “You are more than good enough, Hyunjin. You are so talented, so kind, and you work harder than anyone I’ve ever known. You don’t have to be perfect. Again, I love you for who you are, not who you think you should be.”
Hyunjin’s lower lip trembled, and for a moment, it looked like he might start crying again. But instead, he sat up, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away.”
You held him just as tightly, your own tears falling freely now. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You don't have to apologize Jinnie...”
For a long time, the two of you sat there in each other’s arms, the weight of the argument finally starting to lift. Hyunjin’s breathing eventually steadied, and you could feel the tension slowly draining from his body as he relaxed into your embrace.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still red, but there was a softness in them now, a peace that you hadn’t seen in a long time.
“I’ll try to be better,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try not to let my insecurities get the best of me.”
You smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I'll try to be better with my words as well. We’ll work through our issues together. You don’t have to do this alone.” You touched his cheek and smiled.
Hyunjin nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He kissed you gently. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much sincerity that it made your heart swell.
“I love you too,” you whispered back, your hands gently cupping his face. “More than anything.”
pairing: lee minho x gn!reader
note: allusions to sex. also i am sick so soz bad ♡
“Don’t look at me.”
“What? Why?” Minho chuckles, pushing himself up from the bed and leaning back on his hands. He cranes his neck, peering over the bed’s edge, and watches you gather haphazardly strewn clothes to the floor into your arms. His gaze wanders along your bare backside, following your movements as you stand up, and he inwardly notes how you’ve already put on your underwear.
You turn around, shifting the bunched clothes covering your chest to one arm. “Because I’m changing,” you say incredulously, gesturing to your half-naked body.
Minho looks up at you, fighting the smile tugging at his lips but unable to hide the amusement riddled in his voice. “Okay, and?”
“So, look away?” you huff, rolling your eyes as you drop the pile of clothes onto the bed. Minho watches you meticulously trifle through the small assortment, though he can’t suppress the snickers that escape his mouth when you gingerly pluck his boxers with your fingers and gently place them to the side.
You point an accusatory finger at him. “And stop laughing!”
Minho raises his hands in faux surrender. “I’m not laughing at you,” he placates, averting his gaze. “I think it’s funny considering we just fu—“
His next words are muffled by his shirt flung onto his face at breakneck speed. Minho pulls the fabric off his head, opening his mouth to continue his sentence, but you already have his underwear locked and loaded as your next weapon.
Minho waves his arms out in front of him, schooling his face as close as he can to neutral. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
You slowly lower his boxers before tossing them back onto the bed, landing in front of him. Shuffling resonates throughout the bedroom as you both slide your clothes back on, and as Minho brushes by you, he plants a small peck on your cheek.
“What was that for?” You ask, following him out of the room.
“Nothing,” he says, turning his head to give you a small smile. “You’re just cute.”
liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated
my asks are always open ♡
summary: an arranged marriage is anything but ideal. minho knows that when it comes to his role as a husband, he's lacking, but you haven't exactly been the perfect wife either. a phone call from you leads to a shift in priorities.
word count: 1.5k
warnings: angst, mention of a car accident, mentioned death of a minor character
a/n: originally this was going to be part of a longer fic, but i will never write that longer fic, so i decided to post it! the name of this fic is what inspired me to create the till death do us part collection. i hope you enjoy!
part 2 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist
Minho had never really thought that he’d be married before the age of 30. Sure, he knew that his parents would likely expect it of him, but he prioritised work far too much to have a meaningful relationship with anyone. So it’s not exactly a surprise that when his parents announce that they’ve arranged a marriage with you, Minho doesn’t suddenly become an attentive and doting partner. In fact, even a year later, he still hasn’t gotten very close to you.
Minho knows that when it comes to his role as a husband, he’s lacking, but you haven’t exactly been the perfect wife either. Behind closed doors, you seem openly resentful of this whole situation and do your best to avoid Minho altogether.
Honestly, Minho doesn’t blame you. If he thinks about it, which he tries not to, you have it even worse off than him. You’re younger by a couple years and had been in the process of rising through the ranks of your family’s company when you’d been forced into becoming a dutiful housewife instead of an executive.
You had tried at first, texting him good morning, staying up late to wait for him to get home from work, and making sure the staff always had fresh and healthy meals prepared. Minho feels guilty thinking of how often he had brushed you off, but he had just been promoted and a lot of the executives, your father included, were just waiting to see him make a mistake. The overwhelming pressure had led him to spend more nights than not at the office and when he did go home, his thoughts still revolved on the work he had left to do.
You haven’t done anything drastic to express your dissatisfaction yet, but it feels like it’s only a matter of time.
Tonight would be the perfect way to do so. The two of you are expected to be present for an event, one that Minho has been invited to speak at. His assistant, Jiyu, tells him that it’s the opportunity of a lifetime and stresses how important it is for everything to go according to plan.
Minho heads to the event straight from the office and isn’t surprised that you’re not there before him. Even 30 minutes after the event has officially started, he still doesn’t mind since it’s just been mingling so far, something that he knows you detest. It’s when they sit everybody down to start serving the meal that he starts getting impatient, his temper starting to make itself known.
You know that this night is important for Minho and he’s told you multiple times that he expects you to be there. He knew that you had been picked up on time since he’d even sent his personal driver, Jeonghoon, to get you and Jeonghoon had sent assurances that the two of you were on your way.
You're frustratingly convincing though, Minho has never been able to say no to you and he knows that you've charmed all the household staff as well.
He'd texted Jeonghoon once to check where you were, but hadn't gotten a reply and he just hopes that it's because traffic is bad and not because you're plotting something.
When Jiyu pesters Minho about the lack of your presence, he gives in and calls your cell phone. It rings for a while, and Minho is about to hang up when you finally answer.
“Minho!” you say, sounding delighted. Minho is instantly suspicious. “You’re calling me.”
“Where are you?” he demands coldly. “It’s late.”
“I-I tried to call,” you continue to babble. “This time, I was good, really. I remem-remembered to call Jiyu-ssi instead of your phone. She said you were busy and not to bother you. But they needed someone to come help and I couldn’t think of anyone else.”
“Y/n, are you- are you drunk?” he asks in disbelief. If he sounded cold before, his voice is absolutely frigid now. Someone happens to walk by and they look frightened by whatever expression is on his face based on the way that they scurry past while trying to avoid eye contact.
“No!” you deny vehemently, even though there’s still something odd about the tone of your voice. “I didn’t drink anything! They didn’t let me. They won’t let me do anything. They just gave me this thing and-”
“Where are you.”
“I’m at the hospital,” you say plainly.
“What?” Minho stands up from the table, uncaring of the way that everyone swivels to look at him. He had stayed quiet enough before to prevent eavesdropping, but forgets to keep his voice down reacting to your matter-of-fact response. “What happened?”
“We were driving to the hotel,” you say in a small voice. “I didn’t want to be late. I- I don’t know what happened. There was another car- they were in a rush too.” You stop to hiccup.
“Y/n-” Minho is at the entrance to the ballroom and doesn’t even wait for the staff to heave the doors open, opting to push through them himself. He knows he's making a scene, but he couldn’t care less about anybody else in the room at the moment.
“He’s gone,” you interrupt, sounding hollow. “Jeonghoon. They couldn’t even get him out of the car. I saw it. Him. What was left. There was so much blood.”
It feels like Minho’s stomach drops right to the floor.
“Y/n-”
He can barely hear your reply, instead the rush of his pulse in his ears drowns out any other sound. He's suddenly aware of how shaky his breathing has gotten, shallow gasps that barely provide any oxygen to his lungs.
“It doesn’t feel real,” you say, subdued. “They keep saying that I was really lucky, but it doesn’t feel like it.”
“Are you hurt?” Minho’s almost afraid to ask.
“Oh,” you sound surprised. “Me? I- Don’t worry about me.”
“Don’t worry? Never mind, just tell me what hospital you’re at. I’m on my way.” Minho has forgotten that you're particularly skilled at deflecting questions, even ones that are direct.
“What? No! You can’t leave, you have your speech-”
“Y/n,” Minho says gently. You're starting to sound panicked and since he still doesn't know what your condition is, he doesn't want you to be any more stressed than you already are. “It’s okay, I’ve already excused myself.”
“I know tonight was really important to you,” you say miserably. “I ruined it. I’m sorry. Oh I- Someone’s here, I have to go now. Don't come, please. I’m fine, really. Stay at the event.”
The call ends abruptly and Minho is left staring at his phone.
“Minho-ssi,” Jiyu hisses from beside him. Her heels clack as she tries to keep up with him. Minho's already halfway across the lobby, but he can still see into the ballroom where a number of people are still staring after him. They must think he’s gone crazy. There’s a smile on Jiyu's face, but the tone of her voice is anything but friendly. “What are you doing? They're not finished serving dinner and you have to be on stage soon.”
Minho doesn’t even bother to answer, starting to dial for a car to come pick him up before he realises, dismayed, that he’s pulled up Jeonghoon’s number. He shakes his head for a moment before calling someone else.
Jiyu grabs at his elbow, pulling him to a stop. Even through the layers of his clothes, her nails are sharp pin pricks that dig into the flesh of his arm.
“Minho-ssi, you can’t just leave!”
Minho wrenches himself from her grasp and turns to scowl at her. She stumbles back at the force of his glare for a moment before reaching out again.
“Y/n’s in the hospital,” he explains. That should be enough explanation, but it still doesn’t seem to affect her. "I have to go."
“Tonight is critical if you want to win over enough people for the contract that you’re negotiating. Don’t waste any time worrying about her. If she's at the hospital, there’s nothing that you can do to help Y/n, she’s already being taken care of,” Jiyu says coolly. “Some things are more important.”
Minho stares at her for a long moment.
Jiyu has worked with Minho for a significant portion of his career. Her analytical and no-nonsense way of handling things is part of the reason that he’s been able to make it as far as he has. For the longest time, he had admired her ability to set aside her emotions to make logical, objective decisions.
Now he wonders if she’s just heartless.
Out of the corner of his eye, Minho can see a car pull up to the doors and he makes his own decision.
“Yes," he agrees. Jiyu lets out a sigh of relief and reaches out to tug him back to the ballroom. Minho steps away to avoid her hand. "Some things- some people are more important. I didn't see that before and I won't make that mistake again. Jiyu-ssi, give everybody my apologies that I was not able to stay and then you may go home. Thank you for your service all these years, but I will not be needing you as my assistant any longer."
He doesn't look back.
part 2 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist
➥ Prompt(s) requested (Current run)
· 176: Hey, you awake?
· 127: We’re… just friends.
· 111: We’re not just friends and you know it.
⚠ — Free use-adjacent arrangement (see masterlist for cw policy)
➥ All you ever do is have sex after petty schemes, and he is tired of it.
“Keep it the fuck… down! I have work in the morning!”
“JESUS F— CLOSE THE DOOR!!!”
No, you won’t because this is the sure way to make his bitches bounce. You listen to the commotion of the girl hurriedly leaving from the comfort of your room, contently chuckling to yourself. The front door slams close, and you start counting.
Five… Four… Three… Two…
“You’d better make that shit up to me,” he storms in and threateningly points at you, “I was about to finish. Are blue balls a fucking joke to you?!”
It actually kinda is because he performs his best when he’s that feral.
“Stop bitching, geez,” you feign a pretty convincing annoyance, “We can fuck if you’re on top. I’m not moving a muscle.”
“Oh, you’re gonna move a lot of muscles,” he towers over you and pulls your shorts down.
“Not even gonna get me wet first?” you scoff as he spreads your legs, “Some gentleman you are.”
He cocks a brow, rubs his fingers on your pussy, and perfectly demonstrates how they glisten.
“You mean like this?” he separates his fingers to show you the wet trail between them, then lowers his face to whisper against your lips, “I know you listen to me fuck.”
His methods are a lot more subtle, not because he is a gentleman but because he is fucking diabolical. Unlike you, he is always so friendly towards your prospective conquests, then proceeds to render them fully out of commission through various means of intoxication.
This is the fifth guy you’ve sent home because of him.
“Hey!” you bang his door open like he owes you money, “You awake, mate?!”
“No.”
“Whatever. I don’t need you awake for this.”
It works to your benefit that he sleeps naked. You climb on the bed and turn him on his back. There is such a smug grin on his face that it sets your teeth on edge.
“What happened?” he clasps his hands under his nape, watching you crawl between his legs in absolute delight, “He couldn’t get it up?”
“You fed him drinks the entire night, asshole,” you spit on his cock and start stroking him.
“That’s payback for making my date pass out on the couch with your little barmaid shenanigans.”
“What date? You were never going to see her again!”
“What if I was?”
You peel the gigantic t-shirt you stole from him off of you, and his pleased smile instantly vanishes. His lips part as if he’s seeing tits for the first time. He twitches so hard in your palm that it makes you smirk.
“Who cares?” you drag your tongue from his shaft up to his tip, “She could never fuck you like I do.”
You take his entire length down your throat, and his life flashes before his eyes. Even if it’s for your own interests, you pleasure him so intensely that he feels like the king of the world.
How fast he gets hard for you kinda strokes your ego.
“You’re damn right she couldn’t,” he suddenly sits up and pulls you close, “Come here.”
His tip grazes against your soaked entrance when you straddle him, and it sends a shudder down his spine. He feels high as he disappears into you. One hand on your waist, the other on your back, he starts fucking you so hard you would fly off the bed if he wasn’t pinning you in place. His lips are all over your neck, kissing you raw as you claw at his shoulders.
“Do it like last time,” you press your palms on the mattress and lean back.
He spits on your clit and starts rubbing it as he picks up his pace. The way you look so drunk on him gets to his head bad and he switches to beast mode, transitioning from ardent to relentless instantaneously. You cum so hard that he feels you gushing on his cock, then swiftly pulls you back up to fuck you to his orgasm with his face buried in the crook of your neck.
The room is quiet when the heavy breathing recedes, but the voices in his head won’t let him be. It’s a thought that has long stopped being fleeting; it’s made a permanent residence in his heart before he knew it.
“I want more,” he suddenly ruptures the silence.
“Of what?” you turn to him confused.
“Of you,” he continues without a beat, “You can’t stand it when I bring someone home, can you?”
“That’s because you keep sabotaging my dick appointments!”
“You own an entire store’s worth of toys but you always come to me,” he confronts, “You want me, too.”
“I want your body, there’s a difference,” you kick the sheets off to get up, “I thought sneaking into your bed would have tipped you off.”
“Stop lying to yourself, for fuck’s sake!” he pulls you back before your feet touch the ground, “Look me in the eye and tell me you feel absolutely nothing for me.”
You feel a hard kick in your chest, and you’re scared he can hear it. Absolutely nothing is a stretch. Of course you feel things for him. You’ve been feeling them for a long time, but the timing sucks and he’s your roommate and you’re…
“We’re… just friends,” you stare at your hands.
“We’re not just friends and you know it,” he raises his voice a tinge, “You sleep in my bed three nights a week.”
So? That’s the definition of friends with benefits. You get along, you have a good time, then you go your separate ways. That’s the way it is.
Then why is he looking at you with so much sorrow in his eyes? Why is he holding your hand tight like you’re going to dissipate otherwise?
“I know I’m broken beyond repair,” he caresses your face, “but every time we kiss, I feel the shards glue back together.”
Then he presses his lips on yours and the dam fucking bursts. Every I love you you’ve ever swallowed translates itself into kisses. You take shelter in his embrace, and he lets out a hearty chuckle.
“In case you didn’t notice,” he kisses the crown of your head, “you kinda give me heart eyes.”
Your stupid pride won’t let you say it to his face.
genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, post-apocalyptic au (based on the Netflix series Sweet Home), 18+
summary: Even when the world is plunged into its darkest hour, you find the faintest light in Minho.
warnings: heavy angst, lots of mentions of blood and injuries (i tried to make it as non-graphic as possible), minor character deaths, weapons, panic attack (again not graphic), it's heavily implied OC struggles with agoraphobia and PTSD, brief infidelity, Minho and reader do get into verbal arguments (they're a little toxic lol), Minho is a true loverboy, ambiguous but hopeful ending, smut warnings: kissing, fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, brief nipple play
word count: 6.3k
a/n: i'm so sorry that this took so long, google docs decided to be a jerk and delete a huge chunk of this while i was working on it (I apologize in advance for the poorly written angst)! It is based on the world of Sweet Home but honestly you don't need to have watched the show or read the webtoon to follow along. the title is from the book by Mohsin Hamid. I hope you enjoy! <;3
The sharp wire of the metal fence cuts into Minho’s palms, digging into his mottled skin, and he braces himself for the jump. Leaping over, Minho lands silently on his feet, skills honed from many years of observing his cats take the same leap from couches or counters. But none of that existed anymore.
His eyes remain sharp, taking in the cover of woods around him, and he remembers that while the trees helped him stay hidden, they hid the monsters from his sight as well. No sooner than he’s managed to calm down the ever-present racing of his heart, he’s swinging the door to the bunker open, closing it quietly behind him.
Wincing, he examines the cuts on his palms, tinged with dirty specks of rust. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this, knowing the small supply of rubbing alcohol he’d managed to collect over the past few months was now down to the last bottle. And there was no more to be found.
The small bit of sunlight that streams in through the barely-qualifying window illuminates your sleeping figure nestled amongst a pile of dirty blankets, and Minho almost hesitates to disturb you like this. You look so peaceful like this, a stark contrast to the emptiness that fills your eyes when you wake, the pain of living through two starkly different lifetimes contained in their depths. He knows his eyes hold the same.
“___,” he shakes you awake gently, watching you stir. The gashes that mar your face have begun to scab over, leaving ugly scars in their wake.
“I brought dinner.”
That gets you to jolt up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes.
“Are you okay? Anything hurt?” You shake your head, a small frown on your face when you see the fresh red marks that litter his palms. He has the feeling you’re lying to him again, but he doesn’t push it. A lot went unspoken between you two.
Minho wordlessly hands you over a full sleeve of crackers, your eyes lighting up. You chomp down eagerly on one, before pausing, holding it out to him.
“I already ate,” he lies, knowing he didn’t want you to sacrifice any kind of meal for his sake. He’d eat the less full sleeve when you fell back asleep.
Moments of silence pass between you, the soft sounds of your eating lulling Minho’s tired eyes to fall, becoming heavy with sleep. He rests his head on his knees, fighting back the shiver that night brought with it.
A deafening roar breaks through the stillness, and you freeze, dropping the crackers to the ground. Minho is by your side in an instant, hand tentatively reaching out towards your shoulder. But he never closes the gap.
“Ten seconds,” you croak out, so softly that Minho thinks he might not have heard you. “If the distance that sounds travel is 343 metres per second, then ten seconds means it’s far enough away from us.”
The ghost of a smile twitches at Minho’s lips, and he wants to praise your sharp skills, considering he’d only ever been a pabo, but you’ve turned around and fallen asleep again, your back to him.
Minho settles into the blankets across from you, watching you for a few minutes before his body is weighed down by the exhaustion of the day, knowing the exact same thing waited tomorrow.
The end of the world was more boring than he’d expected it to be.
It hadn’t always been this way. The chaos had naturally broken through the quiet, starting one night when a fire broke out in his apartment complex. Amidst the screams and sounds of windows shattering, Minho’s only concern had been the cats, scooping them up, taking special care to cover their ears from the blaring alarms. But all of it hadn’t made a difference anyway.
He thought it was his neighbour at the end of the hallway. Or at least, it looked like him. He’d always had some sort of disdain for the man - in Minho’s eyes he talked too much. Always interrupting him during his morning mail runs to brag about his latest conquests when it came to dating. It was a sore spot for Minho, especially considering his own romantic interests were so singular, something he didn’t want to get into whenever his neighbor cornered him.
But the vain man who talked Minho’s ear off about sleeping with as many women as possible was nowhere to be found, lithe limbs transforming into ropes that broke through the ceiling. Heading straight for Minho.
Somewhere in the chaos, Minho briefly had time to register that whatever was in front of him was no longer human. And so, he did the only thing he could do. Run.
The floor slipped underneath him, hurtling Minho to the ground, the cat carrier thrown open next to him. Soonie, Doongi, and Dori are nowhere to be found. His palms claw against the tile, trying and failing to lift himself up, eyes widening when he sees the red that coats his palms.
“Please,” Minho croaks, attempting to break through to the human underneath the monster. “Don’t do this.”
There’s a brief flash, a spindly arm reaching out for Minho’s face, and he ducks. The sound of shattering glass follows, the grotesque body flinging itself out the window. Minho heaves, hot tears leaking from his face as he remains curled in the fetal position, arms braced over his head. When his breath returns to him, he looks over at the empty carrier and lets out a sob. Slowly, his eyes turn to the shattered window.
Blood lines its jagged edges, dripping to join the mess on the floor. Peering downwards, Minho sees the mangled body of the thing (he refused to acknowledge it had been his neighbor) that had attacked him, unmoving.
He had to get out of there.
…
The knock at the door startles you. It’d been days since you’d locked yourself away from the chaos, days since you’d heard a sound. But the screams would never leave your head.
You’ve been huddled up in the same corner since it all started, exactly ten feet away from the door. Close enough to act quickly in case someone (or something) came knocking, but far enough away to duck into one of the rooms of your apartment for safety.
However, the splitting pain in your ankle prevents you from doing either. The bruises are turning a nasty shade of yellow, mixing with the unsightly violet from before. You’re pretty sure it’s broken, your bookcase toppling over onto it the day this had all started.
The knock startles you again. It’s soft, gentler than the ramming you’d expected if a monster were to come knocking. But still, you could never be too safe.
“Churu,” a soft voice whispers through the darkness, and you freeze. There was only one person in the world who’d know that word, and come knocking at your door.
Your palms burn as you drag yourself against the floor, taking extra care to make as little sound as possible. Fighting the urge to curse when the door creaks, you brace yourself against it, peering through the peephole.
The banged-up face of Lee Minho greets you on the other end, and you nearly sob with relief. Swinging the door open, you take him in at the threshold, peering at you with a strange gaze. You’d often joked to Minho that his eyes resembled his cats’, curiosity mixed with having seen too much contained in their depths. But it seemed especially true today, his lip split open and face haggard while he clutched a baseball bat in his hand.
You know the first thing he’s going to ask before it even leaves his mouth.
“Are you hurt?” he huffs out, watching you collapse against the door frame.
“Junho is gone.” You watch Minho’s entire figure tense up when his best friend’s name comes off your lips, his grip around the bat tightening.
“I-, I tried to talk to him, but there was a weird sound on my phone that kept breaking us up, and then I heard him scream, and then…”
You collapse against Minho in a fit of sobs, forced to recount those awful last moments when you’d heard your boyfriend die over a phone call, the chilling screech of something that wasn’t human cutting off his screams for help. And you were trapped halfway across the city, crumpled on the floor, unable to do anything to help him.
Minho’s arms wrap around you, supporting your weight, and he’s moving you both over the threshold, taking care to shut the door softly behind him. You don’t know how many minutes you spend wailing against his chest, the sight of another human forcing you to confront the horror you’d dealt with in the past few days, but eventually, the pain in your ankle makes itself known again, and you slide to the floor.
Minho rests his head against the door frame, his own eyes red-rimmed, and you watch his face contort, trying to hold back the tears from falling.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, watching Minho’s gaze snap to yours.
“What for?” he croaks. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m so scared, Minho,” your eyes fill with tears. “I thought that no one would come for me, that I’d be alone here, and that I’d…”
You choke, unable to finish the sentence, and you watch Minho straighten next to you. The warmth of his hand wrapping around your waist startles you, watching his lithe body contort as he helps you up off the floor, taking special care not to put weight on your ankle.
“You’re with me now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
There’s a furrow in Minho’s brow when he hears your request, lips tightening into a thin line while his throat bobs.
“Absolutely not.”
The decision is final, resolute, stubborn — Minho’s arms are crossed over each other, and he stares down at your figure among the blankets, eyeing the makeshift splint currently tied around your ankle.
“Minho, please.” It comes out as a whine, years building in your eyes from the frustration of being trapped in the bunker for months on end.
“I said no.”
Minho had dragged the two of you to safety not long after he’d found you, stealthily dodging the strange creatures that had begun to pop up on the city landscape. There was little in common between them besides their monstrous appearances, but Junho’s screams lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to wake up every night in a cold sweat for the first few weeks.
The tiny bunker became your new home, and Minho your roommate, forced together by circumstances beyond your control. You’d snapped at him when he brought up the idea of leaving, wanting to search for food and supplies outside.
Unfortunately, your ankle made the final decision for you — Minho would have to be the sacrificial lamb, risking his life for you both. It filled you with an immeasurable amount of guilt, knowing he put himself in danger every day to provide for you both. But it also made you angry, the listlessness that had begun to brew inside you only becoming stronger when you felt more and more useless every time he’d come back with food and medicine for you and nothing for himself.
Regret cut through you like a searing knife. Who was Minho to do all these things? He’d been Junho’s best friend, not yours. The relationship between you two had been cordial at best, Minho barely managing to string more than five words together every time he was around you. It always seemed to you like Minho stood at the other end of a vast abyss, impossible for you to reach in any way. Admittedly, you’d been no help in closing the chasm, even since you’d both escaped together, the pain in your ankle lulling you to sleep as soon as you swallowed the meds he brought every day.
Your eyes flit to Minho across the bunker, holed up into the corner. You watch his hands rummage around in his pocket, pulling out a switchblade. The shiny metal gleams in the rays of the sun, Minho’s fingers enclosing around a lock of his messy, overgrown hair—
“STOP!” The switchblade clatters to the floor at the sound of your voice, Minho’s lips parting in surprise. A deep flush creeps across your neck, wondering what had prompted you to interrupt him in the moment. His eyes study you with a curious glint, a thousand questions hidden in them.
“You’ll dull the knife,” you manage to get out, amazed at the calmness in your voice despite your heart racing at a million miles an hour. “What if we need it?”
Minho’s lips twist up into a smirk, and you wonder if he can see through your thinly veiled excuse. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, throwing a baseball cap over the shaggy strands, smiling when they fall into his eyes.
“Fine,” he acquiesces. “You can come along. But any sign of trouble and you have to leave me and get back here, okay?”
“What do you mean, leave you? You’re coming back with me, of course.”
“___.”
“Minho.”
You push yourself off the ground with your palms, hobbling over to Minho’s side.
“Thank you,” you whisper softly to him, and Minho rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly, before the door to the bunker creaks open once more, this time the two of you stepping out into the sun together.
. . .
Sweat pools on Minho’s shirt, the sun beating down on the two of you while you make your way through the woods, eventually finding yourselves in a vast field. You’re slower than he is, trailing behind him while you skip on your partially healed ankle, but Minho finds he doesn’t mind.
In fact, he thinks he must look like a fool, the huge smile that threatens to take over his face creeping up every few minutes. Somehow, it feels different now, having you here with him. The sun’s rays feel less ruthless, and there’s the faint rustling of a breeze through the meadow. It's almost like he’s on an adventure, and not caught in an endless struggle for survival. He’s filled with the hope that maybe the two of you can come out of this alive. Together.
Pushing through the blades of grass, Minho pauses when he hears a small thud behind him, followed by the faint sound of wheezing. Turning on his heels, his heart turns to ice when he sees you, knees curled to your chest, the faint sheen of sweat lingering on your skin.
“Shit!” Minho curses into thin air, crouching onto the dirt next to you. “Stay with me ___!”
His arm swings out to steady you, but recoils at the last second, not wanting to startle you. Guilt eats away at his chest when he realizes this is all his fault. He’d been the one to agree to let you go outside. Realization dawns on him that there’d been a reason you stayed in the bunker the entire time, his mind flashing back to the days you must have spent alone in your apartment, full of pain, wondering if anyone would show up.
Minho panics, looking around the field for something, anything that could help hold you over until this passes, when a thought crosses his mind.
“Do you want to hear about the time I tried to walk my cats?” He babbles out, cheeks hot at the silly interruption. It works though, your face jolts up, the trance finally broken. Your eyes are red-rimmed, hair dampened with sweat, snot running down your nose. Minho thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.
“It was in a field just like this, I brought them out here with their harnesses,” he continues, the smile growing on his face when he sees the stream of tears that run down your cheeks dry up.
“It was a disaster. I thought Doongie ran away for sure, and Soonie just laid down in the grass on his belly, refusing to get up. Dori was the only one who took to it,” he reminsces fondly, a half-sob, half-chuckle escaping him at the memory, trying to soothe the hollow ache in his heart when he thinks of them.
“I wish I’d met them,” you reply softly, your hand resting on Minho’s shoulder.
“It was my fault,” Minho spits out bitterly. “Junho was over all the time, I could have introduced you. They would have really liked you I think.”
Just like I do.
“I hope we find them,” your voice is quiet, but there’s a resoluteness to it that surprises Minho. “They have to be out there somewhere, waiting for you.”
That strange feeling of hope bubbles up in Minho’s chest again, and he helps you up, fighting the burning in his cheeks when your hand remains clasped in his, the two of you hobbling through the field.
Half an hour later, and you’re stopped outside the remains of what looked to be a convenience store, completely ransacked. Minho ignores the emptiness he feels when he lets go of your hand to peer inside, his heart dropping at the bare shelves.
Behind him, a twig snaps, your sharp gasp echoing amidst the silence. The gleam of the switchblade is apparent in seconds, Minho pulling it out of his pocket.
The woman is whimpering, her gauzy white dress in tatters. His eyes trail to her hands, the discoloured nails offset by the glint of a fancy diamond ring, and for a moment, he could almost believe she’d just walked out of the church, beaming from the happiest day of her life.
But her eyes say differently. Hollow pools of black, nothing behind them. She’s one of them.
“___, run.” Minho commands, not even turning to look behind him. He hopes you’re gone already, hopes you won’t have to stick around to see this dark side of him, the one that was used to doing battle with monsters every time he left the safety of your little bunker.
But you’re not gone. Your hand wraps around his, lifting it up to study the switchblade in his hand. He looks into your eyes, full of fear but also sadness at the sight in front of you, and he wonders if you see yourself in her. What things could have been with Junho.
“I don’t think she’s going to hurt us,” you wrestle Minho’s blanched fingers off the blade. “We should just go.”
You pocket the knife, Minho’s jaw tensing at the thought of leaving the woman behind, unsure of the potential harm she could cause. He opens his mouth to protest, but realizes you’ve already begun to walk away, your slumped figure visible against the setting sun. You’re crying again.
The woman wails harder when she sees the two of you go, her cries echoing into the silent night.
It’s cold tonight in the bunker.
You shiver among the pile of blankets, watching your breath turn into mist in the frosty air. Teeth chattering, you look over to Minho. His pile of blankets is even more sparse than your own, and you catch sight of his own trembling figure.
It’s cold, your voice echoes in the back of your mind, your feet dragging across the floor, the blankets dragging behind you.
It’s cold, it echoes again, Minho stirring when you lay by his side, throwing the extra blankets over the two of you. His eyes go wide with shock when he sees your face across his in the darkness, studying the way your hair falls messily in your face, the rapid rising of your chest with every breath.
It’s cold, it repeats a final time, your lips surging forward to meet Minho’s, a strange noise escaping his throat before one of his arms comes up to wrap around you, his other palm steadying him against the floor. It’s cold and Minho is warm, the heat from his body burning through you when his tongue traces your lips, before slipping inside, a low whine escaping your throat.
You break away from him, flushed and shivering, but no longer cold. Minho’s hot breath fans against your cheeks, his thumb resting tentatively at the curve of your jaw.
“Touch me please,” you beg him, and his grip around your waist tightens, hands tracing circles on your side. His lips find yours again, thumbs slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, resting against the curve of your hips. You burrow your face into Minho’s neck, leaving featherlight kisses against his jaw, heat rising in your chest when you hear Minho hold his breath. Breaking away, you meet his gaze, the tips of his ears turning red.
“Anything,” he whispers against your lips. “I’ll do anything for you.”
Sparks crackle in the air between you, the once stagnant air in the bunker becoming filled with frantic energy, you slipping a leg over to straddle Minho, him fumbling with the buttons to your clothes, pushing aside just enough to feel how wet you are. The fingers of his other hand trace under your shirt again, climbing up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples.
Sighing, your hips move against Minho’s hardness, pushing aside the worn fabric of Minho’s flannel to press kisses to his collarbones, his thumb working on your clit. Your back arches when he presses another finger inside, and the familiar burn of your orgasm begins to rise, building in your stomach.
“Let go for me,” Minho groans, and the deep growl in his voice has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart on top of him. The two of you exchange shallow breaths, Minho’s fingers still buried inside you, and you feel your core begin to clench around them, whining from the oversensitivity.
“Please, please, can I fuck you?” Minho whispers, desperation in his tone. You nod, head spinning with everything that had happened, and you reach back under his sweats, fishing his cock out from underneath them.
He pushes into you slowly, groaning when he feels your walls widening to accommodate him. The two of you stay there for a few moments, catching your breath before you tell him it’s okay to move. His hips snap lazily against yours, fucking you slowly and deeply, soft pants and the sound of your wetness reverberating through the bunker.
You rock against him gently, and you reach for his hands, his warm fingertips slipping through your own easily, limbs tangling together in desperation.
“You’re perfect god, you’re perfect, I love you, I love you so much,” he slurs the words, the confession ringing in your ears, soft groans accompanied by the speeding up of his thrusts before he spills inside you.
Lifting you off of him, his arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel the wet trail of tears on his cheeks. Eventually, his breathing slows, soft snores telling you he’s fallen asleep, but you remain restless for the rest of the night.
The headache hits Minho like a freight train in the morning, as he stares up at the rust-covered ceiling. There’s a faint chill in the air, one that became even more pronounced when he woke up and you weren’t by his side, and he wonders for a second if he’d imagined it all, from the softness of your lips to the way the words he’d been wanting to say, waiting years to say spilled out of his throat, every kiss and laugh you shared with Junho burned into his memory. And all he did was look on, hopeless in his desperation. Until everything changed last night.
A loud clang startles him, and he jumps up, watching you throw a heavy sack containing the supplies he’d stockpiled against the walls of the bunker, your back turned to him. He lifts himself off his feet, padding softly behind you, his arm reaching out for you.
“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, words clipped and venomous, and you keep rearranging, completely ignorant to the way Minho stands there, unable to formulate a response, his tongue feeling as though it’s weighed down with lead.
Rage lights up inside him as he watches you move around him, the silence making his heart freeze over, and he decides that he can’t take it anymore. It’s been months with you acting this way, cold and distant, refusing to let Minho in. Before, he’d been able to write off your happiness with Junho as an excuse, as a reason why he couldn’t let himself get close to you. But Junho was long gone.
“We’re not doing this,” he spins you around to face him. “You don’t get to walk away from me like that.”
You push against Minho’s chest with all the might you can muster, and he staggers back. The look in your eyes makes you seem like a wounded animal, ready to pounce.
“Why’d you say it?” Another push, the words leaving you in a broken sob. “Why’d you do that?”
You bat against Minho’s chest until he can no longer take it, grabbing both of your hands with one of his, pinning you against the wall.
“Because it’s true,” he breathes, looking past you through the window outside, unable to meet your eyes. “I love you ____. I’ve loved you this entire time, even when you were with Junho. And I hate myself for it.”
He lets go of your arms, stepping back, his shoulders beginning to shake with the force of his own sobs.
“Why do you think I stayed? Why do you think I put myself in danger every day to make sure that you had medicine for your ankle, food to fill your stomach? Why do you think I go out there and kill every single monster I run into, because I need to make it back here, to be with you again?”
“You shouldn’t!” you scream at him. “What kind of life is this? Love should be the last thing on your mind right now, Minho! You should fucking worry about your own neck, and stop giving a damn about me!”
The words tear through you, because you know that if it weren’t for his love, you wouldn’t even be alive right now. And it hurts, hurts to think of how long he’s spent living like this, merely surviving, a wall of ice around his chest.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But I do. Do you know that these past few months, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been? What kind of fucked up logic is that? I have nothing, nothing in this world besides this stupid bunker and the clothes on my back, and it makes me want to sob with joy. Because I get you. I get a chance at life with you, after so many years of wishing for it, and knowing I could never have it.”
He falls onto the ground, tucking his head into his knees.
“The universe gave me another chance,” he whispers softly.
Your blood turns to ice, and you crouch down next to him.
“What do you mean, another chance?”
He looks at you, and you finally see all the pain in his eyes come to the surface, everything that he’s kept bottled up inside.
“It should have been me,” he mutters, lost in his own head. “I told Junho about how I wanted to go up to you that night, how beautiful I thought you were, but before I could do anything, he was there. It ended up being him.”
Your head reels from his confession, and you think back to everything that’s happened through the years. All those memories you had with Junho, Minho lingering in the background, purposely keeping his distance. Memories that you could have had with him instead. Bile rises up in the back of your throat, and you back away.
“I can’t do this, Minho, not right now, I can’t–”
“I know.” He’s at the door before you can stop him, one foot on the other side of the threshold. “Don’t worry about it.”
He leaves before you can even ask him to stay.
Minho knocks back another shot, stomach churning when he sees Junho approach the pretty brunette, chatting her up. She’s batting her eyelashes and giggling at him, and he knows he should be grateful that his best friend is helping him out, on a desperate mission to cure Minho’s singleness.
But all he can focus on is you in the corner, nervously watching your boyfriend flirt with another girl, and Minho wants to vomit when he sees your lip tremble, eyes glassy with tears.
He’d driven himself nearly mad with the fantasies about what he’d do if he was in Junho’s position, how much better he could treat you. But at the end of the day, that’s all they were. Fantasies. You two were happy together, and he had no place in it.
Minho suddenly remembers the shiny ring that Junho had shown him last week, tucked away in the drawer of his dresser, and decides promptly that he needs to step outside, the stale air of the bar burning his nostrils.
There’s a faint breeze outside, and it calms him, rewiring his muddled senses enough for him to plop down on the curb. Minho heaves, the alcohol coming back up his throat, but he tries his best to breathe deeply, like his therapist had told him. The pity in her eyes when he’d explained his feelings for you lingers in the back of his mind. You were a vice he couldn’t quit.
A shadow looms next to him, and Minho looks over to see you standing on the curb next to him, studying him curiously.
“Not a fan of cheap vodka?” you chuckle, taking a seat next to him, and Minho internally curses when he feels your thighs brush. He was too drunk for this.
“Just needed some air,” he tries to laugh it off too. “Gonna have a killer headache tomorrow.”
“She was pretty,” the statement startles him. He couldn’t give less of a damn about the girl Junho was talking to, but it seems that wasn’t the case for you.
“Not interested,” he grits out. Not when she’s not you.
“You know, dating isn’t all it’s cut out to be,” you sigh. “I mean, there are good times, don’t get me wrong, but the bad times feel a thousand times worse when you care about someone. Like seeing your boyfriend flirt with another girl right in front of you.”
There’s a bitter edge to your words, and Minho surprises you, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head towards him.
“Junho is a fool,” the words come out in a slow, heavy breath.
“Happy birthday, Minho,” you whisper, a small smile on your face, and Minho leans in, lips searching for yours. The kiss is quick, a brief graze full of shy reluctance, but you’re surprised you don’t back away, dizzy when he retreats, and missing the feeling of his soft lips.
You lean your head on his shoulder, the two of you lingering on the curb for a few moments, before Junho’s loud voice echoes in the background, startling you apart from each other.
“Hey dipshits, the party’s inside,” he drawls, walking over to swoop you off your feet. Junho presses a peck to your cheek, wrapping his jacket around you, and your eyes roam around frantically, looking for any sign of Minho. But he’s already gone, the faint outline of his leather jacket the only thing you see before he disappears around the corner of the bar, vanishing into the night.
Minho stumbles through the forest, the pounding in his head only growing worse, the memory of the kiss you’d shared consuming his thoughts, splintered with snippets from the conversation with you. The one he’d been waiting so long to have.
The spell had been shattered, and Minho thinks he’s foolish to imagine that it could have lasted, the two of you playing house together, and he cursed the false hope he’d harboured for so long. It was a fucking apocalypse, you were desperate for release, and you’d never cared. Not like he did.
But then his mind flashes back to the kiss, and he doesn’t know what possessed him that night, or possessed you to return it. The moment was the single spark that kept the flickering flame of his love for you going, even now, when you’d basically banished him.
A sharp pain surges through him, and Minho staggers to the ground. He clutches the fabric of his shirt, lifting it up to see the ugly wound he’d been letting fester for weeks, a stray swipe from a monster he’d run into. It’s pulsating now, stabbing into his side, and he wants to kick himself. Why had he been so selfless?
Sometimes, he thinks loving you was the worst decision he’d ever made, the way it consumed him completely. He thinks that maybe if time could reverse, and he had a second chance, that he’d never do it, never lock eyes with you from across the party, your smile forever etched into his memory. But that was a lie. Minho knew he’d do it all again for as long as his heart continued to beat.
Minho feels something squelch on the ground below him, a metallic tang hitting the back of his throat. He swipes at it, crimson coating his fingers. Blood. His blood. He presses a tentative hand to his face, swiping at his leaking nose, but the bleeding won’t stop. There’s too much of it.
Minho screams when his spine cracks, the pain splitting through his entire body, and he feels his eyes roll back into his head.
When he opens them again, the world is dark. And he runs.
. . .
Your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, parched for air as you make your way through the forest, wobbling through the trees, looking for something, anything that could lead you to Minho.
Your heartbeat echoes in your ears, accompanied by a ringing that hasn’t ceased since you left the bunker. The decision still made your stomach turn, afraid to confront the outside world without Minho by your side, but you had to find him. Had to let him know that you wouldn’t let him suffer anymore.
Mind lingering on a specific memory from Minho’s birthday, you realized there’d always been a strange undercurrent between you, even when Junho had been around. Despite how many times he drew away from you, you never let him escape completely. At first, you’d thought it was because he was Junho’s friend, but it all changed after that night outside the bar, your attraction to Minho settling in your chest like a lead weight.
You think back to the months you’d spent together, the world falling apart around you, and how Minho had become your entire world, the reason you’d continued to hope. How you’d fallen in love with every part of him, from the way he’d let you take the first share of food to the messy strands of his grown-out hair.
The wind whips through your hair, the dense cover of trees thinning around you, and you stumble upon the meadow, a lone figure illuminated in the moonlight. You know it’s him.
“Minho!” you scream, watching as he stumbles across the field in response, trying to get away from you. “Minho!”
You scream until your voice runs hoarse, fighting through the pain in your ankle, and eventually, Minho draws closer and closer, collapsing in the middle of the field. His back is turned to you, and he ducks his head, avoiding your gaze.
You think he’ll run away when you approach him, but he remains lifeless, as still as a statue. Crouching down beside him, you lift his chin, turning his face up to you, a gasp caught in your throat at what you find.
There’s something wrong with his eyes. They shift from the dark brown irises you’d come to know to hollow pools of black. His face is smeared with blood, and his breathing is shallow.
“____, you have to go, I’m turning, it’s not safe, I’m not safe–,” Minho grabs your arm, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. His speech is garbled, but you can hear the gentle tone of his voice still trapped inside. He’s still Minho.
“How dare you tell me to run,” you hiss at him. “How dare you tell me to leave?”
“You don’t understand,” he growls, hands shaking in rage. “I’m a monster!”
Fear strikes you at the realization that something was very wrong with him, something neither you or him had ever been able to anticipate. But it’s overcome by a stronger, more profound emotion.
“I don’t care,” you take his face in your hands again. “I love you, Minho. I loved you through the world ending, and I’ll love you through this. Because your life is mine now, just like mine is yours. It’s our second chance. And we will do whatever it takes to survive.”
Minho clasps your hands in his, fingertips rubbing against your knuckles, and you smile when you notice that his eyes are normal again, no longer filled with darkness. Maybe there was a chance.
“We’ll head west,” Minho rests his forehead against yours, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I saw a hospital nearby. Maybe there are other survivors, people just like us.”
You nod, throwing your arms around him and burying your head into the crook of his neck. The two of you would exit west as soon as the sun rose, ready to start a new journey together.
Perhaps the life you shared was far from perfect but you realized that you’d clutched onto it as desperately as him, because he was the only thing you had. You were each other’s home.
a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜
Genre: a huge mix of smut and fluff at the same time
A/N:I started this so long ago 😭 I promise I am making fanfics but I've been so busy. Christmas can get kinda stressful sometimes 🧍
You shot your eyes open as you realized you weren't in your bed. You felt different blankets and no clothes. When you opened your eyes every memory of last night just flooded back.
Minho invited you over for the night and after having dinner and watching a few episodes of a new show you've both started Minho had some other plans.
《Flashback》
You were curled up in Minho's arms as the laptop on your lap played the outro music to the first season of the show. Minho smiled at you before slowly closing the top of his laptop down. You looked at him slightly confused. He set the laptop on his desk and he turned back to you. He ran his hands up your arms and to your hands. He pinned you down by your hands and he moved to hover above you.
He leaned down and kissed you softly.
"Did you miss me?" You giggled and Minho frowned. He licked up your neck to the tip of your ear, his hot breath present the entire time.
《Flash forward》
You groaned before rolling over to see Minho curled up in his white blankets. When you rolled over you felt a pain in your hip, you looked beneath the blankets to see bruises on your hips. You sighed and laid back down on your back. You hauled yourself out of bed and put on some clothes you brought with you as spares. Low-waisted pajama shorts and a cropped shirt...
With this terrible outfit, everyone was going to see all the bruises and marks on your body from Lee know and his fangs last night and there is no doubt that you'd be made fun of for it. That's when you noticed a nice white shirt that belonged to Minho. You put it on over your little tank top and all the marks were covered. For the most part.
You stretched and went out into the kitchen to get breakfast ready. You searched through the cupboards of the kitchen to find peanut butter and bread. You put two pieces of bread into the toaster and went to the fridge to find something to drink with all of this. There was a pack of smoothies so you grabbed one out of the fridge and shook it. You got a plate and set it by the toaster and waited. A shirtless Chan came over to you while rubbing his eye.
"When did you get up?" He asked before sipping some coffee. You looked up at the clock.
"Like 10 minutes ago at most," you chuckled. Chan bottomed up his coffee and smiled at you with his bare face.
"Sounds about right," he set his mug down in the sink before putting some warm water into it. "You and Minho were loud last night," he said out of nowhere. You choked on your smoothie before coughing.
"O-Oh right, sorry about that," you blushed awkwardly and Chan patted you on the back.
"Don't worry I know how Minho gets with you," he smiled, flexing his dimples. His comment made you blush harder.
"H-How so?" You said before your toast popped. You used it as an excuse to avoid eye contact with Chan. Chan leaned against the counter.
"I dunno, he just gets all riled up and he can't stop thinking about you. Then when he gets his hands on you he just loses his shit," he laughed as he went through memories. You then heard another door open in the dorms and it was Han. His hair was in a big poof and he seemed to still be tired.
"What are we talking about?" He said in his morning voice.
"Minho," Chan replied and when you turned back to your toast you found Minho looking at you.
"Ah, Jesus!" You yelled. He didn't have a shirt on but he had some sweatpants on with his hair messily tied back. He pulled out your phone from his pocket and a video played.
"I accidentally used your phone by mistake last night," he said as he pointed to a video of you giving him a blow job last night. You grabbed his phone and blushed.
"Minho!" You yelled, "Why would you play that in front of everyone?" you panicked and turned off your phone.
"No one was looking," he shrugged before turning to the fridge and getting a smoothie. He shook it before opening it and chugging it.
"You have some scratches on your back," Han pointed out. Minho turned to look at his back.
"Really? I didn't really look this morning," he put his hand on his back to feel the marks. You blushed and went over to him.
"Does it hurt?" You asked softly.
"Nah, it's okay," he shrugged. You sighed and took a bite of your toast. Minho did the same.
"Hey, when did you snatch my toast!?" You frowned at him, he just laughed.
Hey I saw that you wanted ideas for some angst, thought I would shoot my shot. What if one of or all of them idk you choose the boys calls reader clingy and reader gets insecure about it. It's okay if you don't feel like it tho. Take care of yourself and drink lot's of water❤️❤️ I'm new to your blog but I really love your work hope to see more of it in the future❤️❤️❤️
CLINGY
cw - non idol!minho x gn!reader, angst (😈), swearing, fluffy ending, hurt comfort kinda
wc- 1.1k
a.n - IT’S DONE !! i am exhausted but hey it’s out 😭😭 anyway i’m sorry for being a bit MIA lately, i’ve been having a bit of a rough time but it’s getting better. i’m not sure if i like this piece or not tho :((( I LOVE YOU MUAH <3
AND I JUST REALIZED THIS IS MY FIRST LINO FIC OMG THIS IS A MOMENT IN HISTORY
❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥
All day, the silence in the house seemed to echo with Minho's absence, each tick of the clock stretching the worry tighter across your mind. The morning had started off on the wrong foot, with Minho oversleeping- a rare occurrence which in turn threw off his whole routine. The rushed breakfast, the hasty goodbye—everything felt off-kilter. It was unlike him to be late, especially for his job at the veterinary clinic, a place he often described as his second home, where he could merge his passion for animals with his skills in care and healing. The hurried departure left a cold space in the wake of his frantic energy.
The argument from the night before added layers to your concern. It was one of those disagreements that seemed trivial in the light of day, yet in the shadow of the night, it had grown into a monumental barrier between you two. It wasn't just the words exchanged or the silence that followed, but the unresolved tension that lingered, making the air heavy with unsaid apologies and unexpressed affections. The fact that Minho had been irritable even before the argument didn't help, it only amplified the discomfort, casting a shadow over his usual bright demeanor.
As the day dragged on, you found yourself glancing at the clock, counting the hours until Minho's return. The thought of him dealing with the stress of work on top of everything else weighed heavily on you as guilt settled in. It wasn't just the worry for his mental state, but also the longing for reconciliation. You knew the importance of mending the rift, of clearing the air with conversations that bridged the gap between hurt and healing. The thought of him walking through the door, the opportunity to start anew, to offer a smile as a peace offering, became a beacon of hope in the slow march of the day. But as you continue to relive the argument you can’t help the pang of sorrow that strikes your heart like lighting, complimenting the storm of emotions whirling about your being.
The dispute sparked when you casually asked him about his day. To you, it was a simple question, but Minho perceived it as intrusive, deeming you "too clingy" and expressing his exhaustion with what he viewed as your constant nagging.Since then you’ve been running yourself into the ground trying to get as much stuff around the house as you can. If Minho comes home to a clean house, you think, then there’ll be one less reason for him to be irritated with you.
The sound of keys jingling faintly outside the door interrupts your thoughts. You had just finished cooking dinner and were plating it just in time as Minho to strolls in.
“Mm,“ he hums in approval as he wraps his long arms around your waist, gently tugging your back to his front. He rests his chin on your shoulder as he speaks, “Smells good, baby. Thank you.” You hum and nod, not sure what to do. He was just complaining about you being clingy but here he is, swaying you side-to-side. Minho clearly sensed your apprehension and pulled back with a sigh. “Why am I getting the silent treatment?”
You aren’t sure how to respond to that. You weren’t purposefully trying to ignore him, you’re just confused and you don’t know how to voice that. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” you turn around towards him and lean back against the kitchen island, using your hands to brace yourself.
Minho hums and folds his arms over his chest. He raises a brow, wanting you to continue. You huff and tip your head back for a moment before looking directly at him. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to come off too clingy.” Your tone came off a little harsher than you’d planned and you watch as his expression shifts into something more serious, guilty even.
“Shit, baby I- I didn’t mean it, you know that. I shouldn’t have said it and-” You shake your head, effectively cutting him off.
“It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just-”
His eyes begin to soften as he inches back into your space. “Hey. Hey,” Minho murmurs as his hands find purchase on your shoulders in an attempt to provide at least some semblance of comfort. He’s always been the type to have some sort of contact when talking to you like this. It makes it feel more personal, more sincere, especially when he ends up apologizing. “Don’t do that, you know I hate it. I’m the one who should be sorry, okay? I’m sorry, I was just stressed and I know that isn’t an excuse.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you, I made you upset.”
Minho shakes his head. “I want you to ask about my day, I want you to show that you care. It makes me feel important. You make me feel important.” You pull your lip in between your teeth, a nervous habit you picked up as a child.
"Are you sure? Because I will-" Minho clicks his tongue and leans his forehead against yours, his brown eyes sparkling.
"I never want you to feel insecure about anything I say, regardless of what it is. I understand I can be hot-headed, and I'm working to fix that, but I want you- I need you- to tell me when I’m doing something that’s upsetting you. I love you and I promise you I didn’t mean any of it.” He presses a soft, chaste kiss on the tip of your nose with a smile. The action makes your stomach erupt with butterflies and you know everything will be okay. You’ll always bounce back and find your way back to each other.
Minho looks down and locks his pinkys around yours before looking back up at you. “You okay now?” You nod and lean against him further with a content sigh.
“I love you too, Min.” Minho begins to open his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.
“Even if you’re a dick sometimes.” You say with amusement laced in your tone and a grin.
Cw: tipsy!Minho x fem!reader, alcohol, truth or dare (barely), alcohol, they are just stupid, and drunk, alcohol, confessing, making out, not a lot, just fluffy, alcohol!, the tiniest bit suggestive at the end
Wc: 4.9k
Summary: One comment sent the two of you on a spiral, on the edge of confessing the whole night, but.. you're just friends, right?
AN: tried one of these flashback fics please tell me if it's too confusing LMAO (italic chunks is a flashback)
00:42
Minho walked into the kitchen just as you were in the midst of preparing another drink for yourself. It was just the two of you, cut off from the rest of the party, the world even, or at least it felt that way now.
Alone like this with him and enough alcohol in your system to feel your emotions much more intensely with less of a grip on them, you became acutely aware of your heartbeat, which seemed to thrum in your ears much faster now, louder even than the music drifting in from the other room.
Usually you could keep a sense of normalcy when you were around him, even alone with him your feelings had never been this hard to regulate- yet now as he moved forward to lean on the counter, your hands started to shake slightly and you knew why.
This reaction to him was from everything, the whole night, your friends who had taken it upon themselves to float forward your feelings for Minho, and everything since.
The space of five or six hours changed everything.
Their words had lit the fire of anxiety underneath you, he had been sat just across from you the whole time and you weren't ready to face the music yet.
The kitchen suddenly felt too small and way too intimate.
21:10
Your group was lounged around the living room casually, the air filled with the scent of pizza and alcohol, and the low hum of background music- just laughing and drinking as other people you didn't know as well passed by in the background.
You were sat cross-legged on the floor with Ryujin, a soft cushion at your back, feeling the slight buzz of your first drink and the gentle warmth of the room as her head rested on your lap. Minho was there too, sprawled comfortably on the couch opposite you, his laughter blending seamlessly with everyone else's as you watched Jisung lean over to whisper something in his ear.
He grinned at you, and you mirrored his expression before sticking your tongue out. The man feigned offence, clutching his heart like you had deeply hurt him, and a fit of giggles left you in the form of breathy bursts of air through your nose.
The game started off light, with questions bouncing from favorite movies to embarrassing moments, each progressively getting more private as you all collectively got more comfortable with it.
Then it happened.
It was your turn, and the room's attention turned to you with a mix of curiosity and mischief as Jeongin dared you to admit if you had a crush on anyone after you had forfeited the truth that had been along the same lines.
Crafty and sly, something that you would've never expected from the youngest of you all had you not grown up with him.
"Well, we all know it's Minho that she likes, right?" Seungmin teased, a knowing smile pulling at his lips.
The sudden focus on you and him sent a wave of heat to your cheeks.
Your eyes instinctively sought his, looking for any sign of a reaction, you weren't expecting him to have known- you were good at hiding it. Or, atleast you thought you had been.
There was a brief moment, a flicker of surprise in his eyes maybe, before he covered it with a sheepish shrug, his expression once again unreadable apart from the cherry red of his ears. The air seemed to stop moving around you, thick with tension as you were made acutely aware of every gaze fixed on you, waiting for a confirmation or a denial.
"Um, I don't- that's not-" you stammered, the words tangling on your tongue. "We're just friends."
A feeble attempt to deflect, to put the lid back on the box that you hadn't planned on opening right then and there, in a game of truth or dare.
But the damage had been done the second that Jeongin opened his calculative mouth. It was just Seungmin that dealt the final blow.
"Sure, sure, just friends," he echoed.
00:43
"Need help with that?" Minho asked, cocking his head towards the bottle you were struggling to open. His voice, usually so familiar, now sent a shiver down your spine.
"Oh, sure, thanks," you managed to say, handing it over, trying not to let your hand drop the stupid bottle right onto the floor.
Drunk, you must be real drunk.
As he easily opened it, his eyes met yours, and for a moment, it was as if all the noise from the other room faded into a charged silence.
"You doing okay still?" he asked, genuine concern flickering in his gaze. It was a simple question, but loaded with a weight that you couldn't quite dissect.
Maybe he was checking back in after your friends had continued to tease you, or he was concerned about how inebriated you had been getting despite his advice to slow down- so much so that you couldn't even make yourself the next drink without help.
Who knows which one? You had lost count a while ago.
You took the bottle back, fingers brushing against his for just a second, sparking an involuntary flutter in your stomach.
"Mhm, just... it's hot in here, right?" you deflected, pouring your drink with what you hoped was a hand steadier than your voice sounded.
Minho chuckled, a sound that usually comforted you but now seemed to contribute to the nervous excitement building inside you. Too nervous, too excited- and too full of vodka to have a proper grasp on what you might let slip the longer you were alone like this.
"Maybe it's me," he said, his grin stretching across his beautiful features.
You can say that again.
"Oh, thanks," the man laughed, his expression turning bashful as your face paled.
Shit!
Definitely too many drinks.
21:16
Needing a moment away from the heat of all those eyes, especially Minho's, the kitchen offered a brief sanctuary, a place to gather your thoughts and slow the race of your heart.
Or maybe it was the next shot you were pouring that was the real sanctuary?
Who knows? Who cares?
You were barely a minute into your refuge when the door swung open again. You didn't have to look up to know it was Minho; the slight pause in his movements paired with the soft exhale, it was all stupidly familiar to you, like you'd memorized him enough you knew who it was with your eyes closed.
"Hey, you okay?"
His voice was laced with something more, not just the casual check-in of a friend but something that seemed more personal, more curious to your distress.
You nodded, managing a small smile.
"Yeah, just needed a break," you admitted.
Minho moved closer, his presence no longer the comforting warmth you used to appreciate, especially after all that.
"He's just messing around, you know? Don't take it too seriously," he smiled, but there was a hesitance in his tone, as if he was speaking as much to himself as he was you.
"I know," you replied, finally meeting his gaze. "It's just.."
There was a pause then, you didn't finish your sentence and he didn't start one. Minho seemed to contemplate his next words carefully, aware that the line of your friendship was more fragile right now than either of you wanted to admit.
"If it ..bothers you, I mean- I can tell them to stop. Really, it's no big deal," he offered, the unspoken weight of his words suggesting that maybe, just maybe..
It was then you realized that he can't have just followed you out of concern, but maybe it had affected him too. There was a possibility that your friends' jokes were something that he wanted answered.
Was he going to ask?
Please, don't ask.
"Thanks, that.. means a lot," you found yourself saying in return. "But it's okay, don't worry. We know that we're friends."
He nodded, a small smile gracing his lips, acknowledging the agreement to maintain the status quo, at least for now.
You thought that you had gotten away with it, scraped by and kept yourself away from that much more embarrassment- but before you could return with your next drink, Minho paused in the doorway of the kitchen.
His hand rested lightly on the frame, turning back to you with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Was it... I mean, is it true?" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
Your heart skipped a beat, immediately making you fix your gaze onto your heeled feet rather than his face.
For a moment you were too struck with nervousness to respond properly. The fear that he might start teasing you as well, or worse, that your admission might somehow ruin the easy friendship you had been maintaining left you scrambling for the right words.
"I, um," you started, composure faltering under his stare. The warmth in his eyes did nothing to ease the sudden dryness in your throat. "It's just- they're just joking, like you said. We're friends, right?"
But the word 'friends' felt hollow on your tongue, too simple to describe the tangle of emotions you had been trying to navigate, to contain. Your voice betrayed the uncertainty you felt, wavering slightly.
You hoped he didn't notice, but it was Minho after all.
He studied you for a moment longer, trying to figure out the truth hidden in your stammered response. Then he nodded with the slightest hint of hesitation.
"Yeah, of course. Friends."
But the way he said it, god, so low and thoughtful.
It all lingered as he looked down at you, emotions and all, a mix between confessing and just the plain denial you'd been favouring, before he stepped back.
"Let's get back," he suggested with an airy smile, his voice returning to its usual easy tone as the room started to fill with other people that wanted refills or somewhere that wasn't the main rooms. "Will you need another drink? Or was that shot enough?"
00:44
"You're hot too, I guess it's both of us, hm?"
So simple and direct, the compliment hung in the air, imbued with all the straight honesty that Minho always seemed to present. It was that that made you certain he was telling you the truth, not just saying something back to be polite.
Your heart, doing a pretty pityful job at beating regularly- seemed to pause again, and then try to hammer out of your chest with double the intensity. Things like that weren't outside the realm of the type of joking your friendship with him held, but.. the timing, god, after everything that happened just tonight?
The way he said it, and the look in his eyes, and the subtle way he leant in..
You were a kitchen away from the eyes and ears of your group who you were sure would jump at the opportunity to use what had just been casually shared between the two of you to poke fun- you weren't even alone in the kitchen anymore. But conversations flowing between the random guests, and the fact that they were just random guests, it seemed to not make you need to shy too far away.
Usual responses that you could've come up with sober, something witty or a quick change of topic, none of it came to you. Instead, you locked eyes with him, searching for a sign that he was just playing- or that he didn't mean it as seriously as he said it.
You didn't find anything though.
Just an open, strangely earnest smile painted on his face.
"I guess we.. make quite a pair," you managed, the words leaving your throat in barely anything more than a whisper. "Thanks."
Minho's smile deepened, reaching his eyes and lighting them up with that familiar little twinkle that made your next breath feel impossible.
"I think we do too."
22:23
Minho noticed quickly that you were indulging in the drinks a bit more freely than usual. Each time you reached for another, giddy laughter spilling from you despite the absence of anything funny in the general vicinity, a twinge of concern flickered through him.
"Easy," he joked after your third shot in a few long minutes, the laughter in his voice not quite reaching his eyes. "You're going to start seeing two of me, you can barely handle one."
His comment earned a playful shove from you but your balance was skewed by the alcohol, causing you to bump into him.
You giggled out a small sorry, and he shrugged it off.
As the night progressed- the concept of time for him seemed to blur. On one hand, it really hadn't been that long, maybe an hour, the room growing more and more congested, but with the rate that you were drinking the night could've very well been over. He kept himself instinctively close to you, while you also pushed more drinks into his hands too, he didn't want to leave your side.
It wasn't just that that had him worried; it was the way people moved in situations like these, too close, too careless, too drunk. So, when the crowd pushed you slightly towards him again, Minho's hand found its way to your waist to steady you, to guide you safely through the bodies.
"Careful," he murmured, his voice a low thrum in your ear over the noise.
But.. if he was honest with himself, the concern was only part of it. The other part was that same longing, as always. The warmth of you against his palm, the way you looked up and smiled, thanked him even, so trusting and genuine, made his heart skip. It wasn't just the need to protect you; it was the desire to be close, and claim even just a moment while pretending he just cared.
He was watching over you more than he usually would, in times when he would let you go to pass the reigns of responsibility over to Ryujin, instead he steered you away and took you outside to get fresh air. When Jisung or Chan came to grab him he took you along, and left as soon as you wanted to wander off.
Why was he doing this now?
Even more than usual, after he had tried.
Just then he had tried, outright asked you if it was true that you had feelings for him and you confirmed that you were just friends.
Then he had agreed. So, really, who could he blame but himself.
It was stupid to let his heart keep fluttering like this, to try and stay close to you like he always did after the little flame in his heart had been extinguished.
00:46
Your defenses were down, stripped away by the honesty of the moment and the cruel clutch of the alcohol that made your thoughts fuzz and blur at the edges.
A pair..
The confession just.. slipped out.
An unguarded, honest spill of words, simple and raw.
"I lied! I do like you."
The moment the words left your lips, it all crashed back, along with all the effort that you'd gone through to convince yourself (and him) that you were just friends. The weight of the sudden confession, what you'd just admitted, hit you full force.
With a streak of panic, your hand shot up to your mouth to cover it- as if trying to shove the words back inside and undo it.
His reaction took a while. You saw the gears moving behind his frozen face, the shutter for a fraction of a second, the way his eyebrows twitched down into a little confused frown.
You cringed at yourself from deep within, scrunching your face up and letting out a muffled groan.
Well.
You never intended to confess like that, or ever, especially not tonight at least- with both of your minds doused in alcohol in the middle of Changbin's kitchen at.. 12:46 am.
Minho, after an eternity of (a few) seconds, seemed to gather himself.
"You do?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise, curiosity, and something else, a tenderness that you hadn't even dared to hope for.
You'd noticed it throughout the night, but you refused to let yourself hope.
There was a delicate thread next, on the verge of snapping- the confirmation, the point of no return. You could say no, -ha! april fools?- a few days late if you really didn't want it out. But what use would that be?
You knew, he knew..
Go on, pull it, snap it.
Your heart was already racing, pounding against your chest with a ferocity that made you dizzy, or maybe that was just the vodka sloshing through your veins, now a regrettable decision.
"..I do," you admitted, the words muffled behind your hands, still covering your face as if they could shield you from the consequences. Force you to think about whatever you were saying.
Minho took a step closer, "thank you for telling me," he said, his voice low and steady.
Not what you expected, honestly.
It wasn't a rejection, it wasn't what you feared, but it also wasn't a definite reciprocation. It wasn't the answer you'd almost hoped for.
But it was him through and through, straightforward- yet oh so very layered.
"Let's, um, talk about this when we're sober, okay? I want to make sure we understand each other, without.. any lies."
Now he's deflecting, making you wait, making you wonder.
In a rush of self doubting thoughts, desperation and desire masked by a thinly veiled cover of frustration with his evasion, the questions poured out.
"Do you like me back? Or are you just going to keep me guessing? Is this you playing hard to get or something? Are you going to reject me when we're sobered up?"
Definitely drunk.
The vulnerability you'd just poured out was overwhelming, dreading and hoping in equal measure. The possibility of rejection, especially now, felt like too much to bear, but the uncertainty was way worse. You were suspended in a limbo of your own making.
He wasn't helping.
Minho's reaction to your sudden outburst was a mixture of surprise and something akin to understanding.
For a moment, he didn't speak, again, and the silence stretched even longer out between you. Then, he took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was steady, a little lilt in it that must've been amusement at your slurry of questions.
You had a hard time believing that he'd even drunk any of the drinks that you were handing him.
How had he sobered up?
"I'm not playing hard to get," he said, smiling a tiny bit. "And I'm not going to reject you either."
The fact that he didn't immediately confirm his feelings for you still left a part of you unsettled.
"I think... I think we need to talk about this more, sober," Minho continued, his gaze steady on yours, inviting you to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I don't wanna say something now that you won't remember. You deserve more than a spur of the moment response.."
23:09
"Would you slow down?" Minho laughed, a gentle plea laced with affection, as he gently reached for the bottle in your hand. "It's only 11 pm, there's time, don't worry."
You protested half-heartedly with a playful slap to his hand, the warmth of the alcohol making your words a little slurred. "I'm fine, Min, don't even worry about me," you insisted, but to your own ears, the words sounded unconvincing.
"I know you're fine, but you should just pace yourself a bit," he suggested, his voice softening as he guided you towards the open door leading to the back garden.
The cool night air hit you like a soft wave lapping over your thoughts, momentarily clearing your head the minute you stepped outside. The sounds of the party faded into a distant hum as he shut the door behind the two of you, replaced by the quiet rustle of leaves in the gentle wind.
"If you pass out now, you'll sleep until the morning, and I know you don't like to miss out."
As you flopped down against the railing of the porch, Minho dropped himself besides you, his body a steady comfort as you leant your head on his shoulder.
He took the bottle in his second attempt to rid you of it, starting to take sips of it himself instead of leaving it three quarters of the way full.
"I guess you could be right," you murmured, glancing up at him.
"You know I'm right."
"Fine, fine, I'll slow down, a tiny bit," you rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him with your cheek, "thanks."
"For what?"
"Making sure I don't miss out."
For looking out for me.
"It's what friends are for," he replied, returning your smile with a warmth that made your heart flutter a little bit.
"You really think we're friends?" you asked, your eyebrows raised in a coy challenge that left Minho momentarily flustered.
It was a simple question, one that seemed innocent enough on the surface, but Minho couldn't shake the feeling that there could be more to it.
Were you teasing him again?
Pretending not to like him, as you often did?
He'd think that if this night hadn't been such a.. such a game changer, a spark, so much to go on.
Were you teasing or were you probing, searching for something, giving him another chance to disagree?
He desperately wanted to ask, but the uncertainty left him at a loss for words. He searched your eyes for a hint, a clue to what you meant, but found only the same playful glint that had always been there, maddeningly unreadable.
"We.. we are friends, aren't we?" he replied finally, the nervousness evident in his voice despite his best efforts to sound casual. You seemed not to notice, thankfully.
"Mm, I guess so, I don't know if I want to be."
Shit? Shit. Shit?!
Your giggly response only added to Minho's internal turmoil. He desperately wanted to ask if you were on the same page, if you meant what he thought you meant. And before he could stop himself, the words spilled out, fueled by your liquid courage he'd been swigging and a desperate longing for clarity.
"I don't want to be..." he almost whispered, the words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken implications and a lot more tender than he wanted it to be.
That wasn't teasing, that was basically a confession.
He caught himself mid-sentence, the realization of how he was saying what he was saying hitting him like a ton of bricks. Quickly, he backtracked, trying to cover his drunken mistake by playing into what he thought you meant in the first place.
"Why would I want to be friends with you, you're such a loser," he grinned, the words forced and strained as he struggled to hide the wobble in his voice and the blush creeping up his cheeks.
No more alcohol for him, that was it.
He was done.
For a second he thought the delicate balance of your 'friendship' had been disrupted by his slip of the tongue. But as if by mutual agreement, you both let out a laugh, the sound carrying a hint of relief and a touch of uncertainty.
The rest of the night, Minho nursed nothing but a glass of water- determined not to let anything like that happen again.
If he was going to confess, he definitely wasn't going to do it drunk, when he could barely figure out what he was saying.
He wanted to be present, he didn't just want to blurt it out.
00:47
"I don't care what I deserve! God I just- I want you to like me back, I want you to just.. kiss me ..already," you said, your voice carrying a tremor of vulnerability beneath the frustration.
The words came out more forcefully than you intended, driven by your annoyance and that deep desire that had been building throughout the night.
Minho's reaction was immediate that time; the surprise flashed across his features straight away, not just at the blunt force of your words but also at the naked want they conveyed. You tugged on his shirt with a bitten lip and he was convinced his heart actually did stop, a gasp capturing and holding his lungs hostage.
Everything that had been building up, ever since Seungmin catalysed what would've been months of development into a single night, it all suddenly felt like it had reached its crescendo.
And then Minho quickly closed the distance between you. It wasn't just a response to your challenge, or just what had happened tonight; it was every moment before too, every glance exchanged and every flirty word. It was finally an acknowledgment of the connection that had been growing between you since day one, one that neither of you fully understood but felt deeply anyway.
When his lips finally met yours, it was with an urge that you felt deep in his chest as he sighed out. It was the kind of kiss that said what words couldn't, carrying with it all the feelings that the man hadn't been ready to voice until now.
When you broke apart, he gulped audibly, the look in his eyes one of relief as they flitted across your face and kept coming back to your lips.
"Wow I.." he started, his voice suddenly so hoarse, "I regret waiting so long, fuck."
His hand reached up to hold the collar of your dress in his fist.
"I like you, if it's still not obvious."
Minho tugged on the fabric, bringing your face forward yet again as he slotted his mouth back on yours, a desperate urge that contradicted his softly whispered words.
The cautions that swam around his brain about you not remembering his confession dissapated when he kissed you, who cares, he'd remind you again in the morning. In fact, he'd never let you forget.
Sure, he was a little tipsy still- and a conversation tomorrow was definitely necessary, but right now he needed to indulge.
You pulled against his shoulders, responding to him in kind- eagerly parting your lips when he gently poked his tongue against them. The world around you seemed to narrow down to just the space you occupied together.
This second one was different from the first; the two of you were surrendering, giving up your friendship for something more, finally. And though he knew the wisdom in waiting, in that instant, he couldn't have cared less anymore.
The magnetic pull towards you was too strong to resist.
Fueled by the heady mix of emotions and the lingering effects of alcohol, the kiss had enveloped you both in a bubble of intimacy. But the clatter of things falling off the counter to the floor shattered the moment, pulling you both back to reality with a jolt.
Startled, you leaned away from Minho, a sheepish laugh escaping your lips as you realized yet again that you weren't alone in the kitchen anymore. Your arm had taken the place of the bottles and glasses that were behind where he had just backed you against the counter.
Making awkward eye contact with the people in the kitchen that had turnt to look at what caused the obnoxious crashing caused flushes to appear on the two of your faces.
Sharing a glance with Minho, you both laughed nervously, the tension of the interrupted kiss dissipating into the air. It was a reminder that you weren't alone, you were surrounded by friends and acquaintances and frankly random people.
"Oops," you muttered, bending down to pick up the fallen objects, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that lingered in the air. Minho joined in, his laughter mixing with yours as you both tried to play off the incident as nothing more than a clumsy mishap.
But even as you were doing something as mundane as clearing up the mess you'd created, a part of you couldn't shake that feeling, the way Minho's lips had pushed against yours, so soft and pillowy, the way his touch had ignited a fire within you.
As you straightened up, everything safely back on the counter, you shared another look with Minho.
You hung an invitation in the air, hesitant and filled with unspoken longing. "Do... you wanna, uh..." you started, the words trailing off as you struggled to find the right way to express what you were feeling, a sheepish blush creeping up your neck.
"Find somewhere... quieter?" he finished for you, his voice low and filled with something else. Something urgent. It was a simple suggestion, but the implication behind it was clear.
With a nod, you let out a breath of anticipation- your shoulders sucking up as you bounced up and down on your toes. You laughed playfully as you allowed the man to pull you out of the kitchen and through the hallway, his hand warm against yours.
"All our friends can see us 'sneaking off'," you remarked, a hint of mischief in your tone as you glanced out at the knowing smiles and glances between the members of your group as you passed by.
But Minho simply shrugged, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly.
he broke your heart one stormy sunday night and you hated him as you watched him leave with tears in both of your eyes.
granted, he did break your heart for your own good, to save you from the dangers of being with him. but you didn't care, not when he was your universe, your world. you would gladly take a bullet for him.
just as he would take a bullet for you.
minho knew leaving would break you, just as much as it would break him, but he needed to do it. life as an idol was already dangerous enough with all the death threats and saesangs, but the moment 'fans' caught even the slightest whiff of you they would hunt you down and hurt you, and minho simply couldn't let that happen. he knew you wouldn't care about all the danger as long as you were with him, but he did. minho would never forgive himself if something happened to you all because he had given in to his innermost wants and kept you by his side.
so he left.
november 8th, 2019, 8.46 pm.
"i want to break up." he said, one sunday night. the rain was pouring outside, flashes of thunder and lightning ringing through the sky occasionally. in the quiet and comfort of your shared apartment, with the dim glow of lamps illuminating your features, in that moment, for a split second, minho wanted to stay. he wanted to pretend everything was alright, to have you stay by his side and be happy together, but he knew he shouldn't. the two of you were eating dinner, sitting at the small round dining table in your kitchen tucking into your homemade kimchi stew. god, he would miss your kimchi stew, he thought miserably.
"what?" your world felt like it had stopped, your hand frozen in place as you slowly tilted your head to look at your boyfriend sitting across from you.
"i... want to break up." he repeated robotically.
"minho, where is this coming from? did i do something wrong? please... just talk to me," you begged, panic starting to flood your mind as tears threatened to spill over. you couldn't believe what he had just said. the both of you had been perfectly fine before, the both of you were happy, why was he doing this? were you not good enough for him? did he fall in love with someone else? the thought alone made you weak.
"i just... it's for the best. i'm putting you in danger every day, fans will hurt you if they find out i'm with you. i can't let that happen."
"i don't care if they try to hurt me, minho. as long as i'm with you, it’s- " you reached for his hand, and could feel your heart finally sinking to the bottom as you saw his face, screwed into an expression of hurt and resignation as he shook his head.
"just... don't forget me in the future, okay?" before you could say anything, minho was already out of his seat, grabbing his coat and his phone, already reaching for the front door.
"wait! minho-" you jumped out of your seat in alarm and desperation, clinging to his arm as he looked back at you with a pained expression.
"please- we can work this out, just don't leave me," you pleaded, tears already cascading down your face. you must've looked a pathetic mess in that moment, sniffling and sobbing, yet minho still thought you were the most beautiful person to ever exist as he memorised your face for one last time.
finally, minho turned around, cupping your face in his hands. your hands reached up to hold his, as he memorised your every detail for the last time. minho's lips found their way to your forehead, then the corner of your eyes, then your lips as he kissed you tenderly for the last time as you sobbed in his arms.
"i'm sorry." he whispered, before pushing you back as you cried out and stumbled backwards, opening the door, walking out of the apartment and out of your life.
december 25th, 2019, 11.28 pm.
your diary.
i still think of you, you know. i still see your face in the windows of that cafe shop we used to go to whenever i pass by. i know you're not in there, and i'm hallucinating. i can't go in there anymore, not without thinking of you. i can't even watch the television anymore without having to see your face. listened to your new comeback. that song was about me, wasn't it?
it's christmas now. i adopted some presents for you. you would love them, the three cats. i named them soongie, doongie, and dori. quite fitting, they're playful like you. they'll never meet their father. i still wore your hoodie, the green one i always wore every christmas. you used to wear my red hoodie, but i guess you won't be here to wear it anymore. it still smells like you.
i still wonder why you left. was such a pathetic excuse as me potentially being hurt the only reason why you would leave me? you knew i didn't care if i was hurt, so long as i was with you. you still left. i hate you for that, but deep down i could never hate you. i still love you.
january 7th, 2020, 2.35 pm.
you strolled down the busy streets of seoul, a long oversized fluffy coat resting on your shoulders and your nose pink from the cold. a sigh of relief escaped your lips when you finally stepped foot into the cozy ambience of a random cafe alongside the road, the warm air blowing gently at you helping to relieve the coldness settling into your bones. ordering a latte and a small cake which were promptly delivered to your table, you settled down to scroll through the news.
new technology developed, scientists say new machinery can effectively target and erase memories of specific people and objects. is now being offered at multiple mental health clinics nationwide at a low cost, guaranteed 90% success rate. for sign-ups and further information, please contact...
you raised your eyebrows at the news, marvelling slightly at how advanced technology seemed to be developing at this rate. thinking nothing of it, you simply continued scrolling.
january 7th, 2020, 12.02 pm.
you sighed as you flopped onto your bed, tired from a day of work and countless emails sent. feeling a warm, soft head poke it's way under your arm, you smiled softly, hand reaching out to scratch doongie's head as he meowed in content. smiling softly, you felt two large lumps jump onto your bed and settle on you, soongie choosing to settle on your feet and dori choosing to burrow his way under you arm as you giggled.
"soongie, you're so heavy," you laughing light-heartedly as your oldest cat let out a 'meow' of indignation at your words.
minho would love the cats so much...
your smile drooped, feeling that warm familiar sensation pricking at your eyes again.
god, how stupid. it had been two months already and you were still hung up on him. everywhere you went, you saw his face, on advertisments at the bus stop, billboards in the shopping districts, to even advertisments on youtube, and every single time your old memories with minho would surface and you would miss him again.
memories...
oh. the news of the memory erasure experiment.
would it hurt to try? you tried imagining forgetting minho. for him to just be another face on the billboard, a random k-pop idol to you. to forget you had ever even loved him and forget that he ever loved you. the pain would be gone. your heart would no longer ache each day, you would no longer think of him and he would no longer cloud your mind.
picking up your phone, your finger hovered above the 'call' button.
"hello? this is the seoul medical psychiatry clinic speaking. how may i help you?"
"i..." you paused, gnawing at your bottom lip.
"i would like to make an appointment."
january 19th, 2020, 1.28 pm.
"welcome! do you have a booked appointment?" the receptionist greeted cheerfully as you stepped into the reception and seating area of the clinic, a large box full of items in your hands. the hallways were filled with posters and quotes, the beanbags and seats painted in warm and soothing colours.
"yes, doctor kim at 1.35pm." you answered, watching as the receptionist typed a few words into her computer.
"ah yes, under the name yoon y/n, right?" she clicked her tongue, "for... memory erasure?" she glanced at you with a look full of sympathy, as if you were some lost wounded puppy.
"yes." you confirmed, lips pursing together slightly as you stared down at the box.
"good, and you've got your box of items already. do double check to make sure they are linked to that specific person only, we wouldn't want any erasure of other memories woth different people."
you swallowed the lump in your throat.
"yeah, i have."
"great, we'll be calling for you later, the doctor will run you through the procedure and then the operation will commence. take a seat first," she gestured to the seating area. not long after, you heard your name.
"yoon y/n?"
you hurriedly stood up, making your way towards the nurse and following her into the operation room. the operation room was white and cold, lacking any warmth and colour, filled with odd looking machinery and lab coats and tools. you were sat down on a chair, and your box of items given to the nurse who began taking them out one by one while another nurse attached a few wires to your skin to a machine on the right which measured your heart rate, a steady thump-thump-thump. the first nurse began to place your items in a row, scanning each one under a machine.
beep.
minho's green hoodie.
beep.
the snow globe the both of you had bought together at a winter festival.
beep.
polariods of you and him.
beep.
a cat plushie you had gifted him in celebration of his lastest comeback before he had left.
beep.
matching mugs the two of you had bought.
minho. everything, everywhere, everyone reminded you of minho. it felt like you were drowning, consumed by him.
"alright, i'll be placing the device on your head. the device will take you through individual memories of the person, but you will have to re-experience certain bigger core memories again as those take a longer time to process. if at any point should you feel distressed or want to stop, please press the red button beside you, and should you want to restore your memories we will reload them back into your brain. however, if you choose not to restore the memories, we will automatically delete them after 30 days." the doctor explained, showing you a strange contraption with two pulse points connecting to either side of your temple.
beside you, the heart rate measured by the machine started beeping faster.
you nodded.
the cold, tingly terminals of the device connected with either side of your temples, the unfamiliar feeling odd and alienating.
then all turned black.
"min! look, they have matching mugs! we should get them," you pointed excitedly to two mugs at a stall in a summer fair you and minho had just happened to pass by. you watched as your old self pointed to the mugs happily, "the world's best boyfriend" and "the world's best girlfriend" written on each mug respectively. "that's so cheesy," minho said, a grin on his face as he pulled you close to him by your waist. well, the old minho in your memories. it felt like a punch in the gut yet the cure to your pain as you stared at his face again in your re-lived memory, his oh-so-familar grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face. "yeah, but it's cute!" you exclaimed, turning to face minho. "pleaseeee," you begged, lips downturned in a pout and your eyes shining hopefully as you tugged on his arm. "fine," minho groans, eventually giving in into your request, feigning annoyace by rolling his eyes yet still smiling at your delighted expression.
god, you missed him so much.
the memory shifted, warping into another blurry picture.
this time, it was another memory that faded in, a memory of you and him sitting in the living room unwrapping your christmas presents. minho tore open his box eagerly, laughing as he held up a green hoodie from his favorite brand gifted to him by you, coupled with some other things like perfume and a brand new wallet. "oops... might've gifted you an accidental matching hoodie by accident," he smiled sheepishly, as you opened your present, some jewelry with . "a red hoodie! now we can match," you snickered, pulling the soft hoodie over your head and slipping it on. "hey, we look like the christmas colours!" you laughed, pouncing on him and tackling him down to make him wear his one as he whined in protest. eventually you did managed to get him to put it on and pose for some pictures, albeit him being disgruntled but still giving in to you anyways.
a tear trickled down your face, landing on your lap as your hands on the chair tightened, gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles started turning white.
the memory started to fade away.
"min! the new comeback was so good, i watched the music video just now," you exclaimed, bounding up to him the moment he opened the front door to your shared apartment. "thanks baby," he smiled, leaning in for a quick peck but suddenly finding a soft plushie being thrust into his hands. it was a plush of a brown and white striped cat, soft to the touch and extremely squishable. "what's this for?" he raised eyebrow, cocking his head in confusion as he stared at you. "it's to celebrate your comeback, I figured i'd give you something to cuddle when i'm not around you," you smiled, "i named the cat mr sprinkles." "who names a plush toy mr sprinkles?" minho laughs, watching as you huff at him about how the name was cute and he was being mean. "thank you though, i appreciate it," he kissed you softly, smiling at the small act of love.
no, stop-
you started to whimper and thrash around.
fade to black again.
"min, look," minho turned to you as you were admiring the ornaments at a booth, the both of you coming across a christmas market and deciding to explore it. "it's a snow globe of us," you pointed out to a small snow globe, with a man and women as figurines in the center of the snow globe and fake snow swirling in the water around them. "it does look like us, doesn't it?" he hummed, pressing a soft kiss into your hair as you subconsciously leaned into him. "we should get it," he suggested, smiling at how your eyes lit up and how you pressed a kiss to his cheek. the two of you purchased the item, and then bought some hot chocolate to sip on to relieve the cold setting into your bones. "jagi-ah," minho called, prompting you to look up at him before gasping in surprise. the first snow of the season. "you know, they say the person you witness the first snow with will be with you for a long, long time." minho grinned, leaning down to kiss you tenderly before intertwining your hands.
you didn't want to forget him, you realized, as you gasped for air, heartbeat skyrocketing as you tried to open your mouth to scream. no, you would never want to forget minho. you would rather cling onto those memories and deal with the pain forever than never having remembered him.
the memory faded.
you gasped in surprise as you ripped open the box, holding up a brand-new, shiny polariod camera wrapped in a gift box, its paper shreds used to cushion the camera hapazardly strewn about the floor. minho watched you with a small smile on his face, eyes sparkling as he happily obliged to any pose you wanted to do with him, groaning half-heartedly but still laughing at the silly faces you made.
the memory started to fade again.
"STOP!" your finger found the red button, desperately pressing it in an attempt to get the machine to start working. all of a sudden, you were jolted back into your consciousness in the middle of the white sterile room again, heaving and gasping for air as you tried to adjust back to the surroundings.
"are you okay? do you need to stop the operation?" the nurse asked, a concerned look on her face. beside you, the machine was beeping, a erratic rhythm.
beep. beep. beep. beep.
your hand reached up to fiddle with your necklace, looking left and right. you swallowed, a lump in your throat.
"yes."
----------
you stumbled out the clinic, hands clutching onto the box of items tightly as your eyes adjusted to the bright light of the sun.
hands shaking, you pulled out your phone.
'my love,' the contact at the top of the screen read. you hadn't called him in months, ever since he had broken up with you. you has tried for a few weeks, but day after day of missed calls was heartbreaking.
you pressed the button.
one ring.
two rings.
three rings.
four rings...
"hello?"
a voice you hadn't heard for months. a voice you had only been hearing in your dreams.
"minho-" a strangled sob left your lips.
"please." you could only force out a choked plea, tears falling rapidly, stumbling onto a nearby bench. people started at you as they walked by, a woman breaking down in a random street in seoul oddly disconcerting.
"where are you? i'll come get you." the moment you heard the concern laced in his voice, your eyes brimmed with more unshed tears, stifling a sob that threatened to escape. in the background, you could hear the sound of things being knocked over, presumably minho rushing to get to you.
you told him your location in between shaky breaths, occasional hiccups interrupting your sentence.
"just wait for me, ok? don't move anywhere," minho firmly instructed, voice soft and calming.
a few minutes passed, and he was nowhere to be found.
he would hate you for this, you realized. you didn't deserve him. he tried so hard to keep you safe, and how did you repay him? by almost erasing all memories of him. the thought of it just broke your heart even more, for if he knew what you had tried to do he would never want to have anything to do with you again.
"y/n!" you heard a voice yell, whipping around only to see minho running to you at full speed. you had never been more glad to see him, your knees instantly buckling as you collapsed into his arms, crying into the crook of his neck as you clutched onto him like a lifeline.
you didn't think you would ever get used to this feeling, you thought. his touch, warmth, his gentle strokes of your hair and whispered sweet nothings were like music to your ears, his hand coming up to rest on your back and his other coming up to gently stroke your hair as he swayed you back and forth. he had clearly just ran from dance practice, you realized, slightly sweaty and panting ever so slightly.
"what's wrong, jagi?" he murmured, soft brown eyes searching your own red and teary ones.
"i- i didn't want to remember you because it was too painful, and then i tried to erase my memories of you, but i realized i didn't want to and i really, really, really fucking miss you and it hurts-" your rambling was cut off by a hiccup, lips quivering as you stared back into his eyes.
here comes the part where he realizes your a disgusting bitch and hates you forever, you thought miserably.
"shh, it's ok," minho pulled you closer, engulfing you in his warmth as his hand rose up to cup your cheek.
what?
he was supposed to hate you, not do... this. you literally tried to erase all memories of him, he should be angry and offended, so why...?
nonetheless, you would take what you could get in what you assumed to be your last moments with him, so instead you leaned into his touch, memorising his every detail again. his soft brown eyes framed with delicate lashes, sharp nose and jawline, the pink rosy tint to his cheeks as the winter wind whipped around you.
"i'm sorry," you begged, "just don't hate me."
"i never did, silly." minho laughed softly, a wistful smile gracing his lips.
"but you left me." you said, confused.
"i left you because i loved you. it was just for your own safety, i didn't care about anything else," minho explained, brows furrowing slightly.
oh.
minho stumbled backwards as you crashed into him with a force, nearly knocking him over as you crashed your lips onto his, hands threading through his soft silky hair and teeth knocking against his. it was a heated, messy kiss, teeth clashing and tears streaming down your face, yet minho didn't seem to mind as he deepened the kiss with a fervour, all seeming to pour out of him, pain and regret, relief and want. it is only when you seperate with a gasping breath of air that you finally see his swollen, reddened lips.
“i’ll figure something out, i’ll talk to the company, make a statement or something- i won’t let anyone get to you, i promise,” he rambled, a giddy smile on his face. right now, minho could care less about the repercussions, even if he had to move mountains just to be by your side and keep you safe at the same time.
you giggled, an infectious laugh bubbling out of you. the both of you, crying in the middle of a street, hands intertwined and both a mess, yet you had never been happier with the person you truly loved.
“we'll be alright now.” you whispered. it wasn’t just a statement but a promise, one to keep forever.
december 25th, 2020, 1.43 pm.
“min! come look!” you squealed in delight, eyes lighting up when you were finally done. minho glanced over, and sure enough, you were up to mischief again, the three cats dressed in ugly christmas sweaters with cartoonish designs on them and matching hats on their heads. doongie let out a ‘meow’ of indignation, protesting as minho roared with laughter to scoop him and his fellow cats up. laughter bubbling out of your lips, you quickly grabbed your phone to take a picture of minho and the three cats, his face lighting up in amusement as he watched them try to squirm out of his grasp.
“i love you, you know that?” minho says that night, the two of you cuddled up on the couch with the cats, watching your favourite seasonal christmas movies together and snacking on popcorn.
“i don’t say it enough, partly because i’m not good at expressing myself, but i love you. your smile and personality and everything. just thought you should know.” the tips of his ears are red as he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.
you smile, a red tint blossoming across your cheeks as you lean in to kiss him softly.
“i love you too min.”
how did you ever get so lucky? you think, leaning in to rest your head on minho’s shoulder as you resumed watching the movie, one hand absentmindedly scratching dori’s head as he purrs in contentment. here, in the dim light of the cozy apartment with minho, love heavy in the air around you two and christmas lights twinkling merrily, you think you have everything you have ever wanted in life.
after all, it didn't really matter where you were, as long as minho was by your side.
• you’re the one always reaching out to boyfriend Minho | Minho x you
PART 2 - PART 3
Notes: some angst to balance the fluffiness of the last post. Minho is 80% an asshole here.
Please, never settle for a relationship (romantic or platonic) in which the attention and care is one-sided. Love takes effort, relationships take effort. Take care of yourself and the ones you love…
[...]
“Me too. My roommate’s pretty chill and is out of the house most of the day.”
“Are you sure it’s okay if I use his bed tonight?”
“Unless you’d prefer using mine…” You smiled and tried to add a playful tone to what you said, secretly hoping he’d notice that you weren’t joking.
Minho finished eating and set the cup and fork on the coffee table, then looked at you with a different smile—one filled with mischief, and something more.
“Only if you'll be in it, too.”
[...]
Or… you have a crush on your boxing tutor, and he likes you too. Hehe.
*** this work is for adult audiences. Minors DNI ***
TAGS: #smut fanfic #leeknow fanfic #straykids fanfic #porn with a bit plot #oneshot #minho is a boxing instructor
Warnings: smut, shameless smut, fingering, squirting, oral sex, rough sex, spanking (a little), crempie, unprotected sex (don't do it), a bit of cockwarming
6,405K words - cross posted on ao3
You have been taking boxing classes for a few months now, initially motivated by your interest in improving your fitness and health. However, what really kept you engaged in the classes was your instructor.
At the beginning, you tried hard not to stare, knowing that you were just another student among many who admired him. His class was full of women, which you noticed during your first week. Minho was very handsome, and it was impossible not to notice.
From the first class, you found yourself watching him a bit too much, captivated by his incredibly attractive lips and his sculpted face—delicate yet not too much so. The problem was that he didn’t seem to give anyone special attention; he appeared to be a very serious person, at least from your perspective. This only made your interest grow, as you relished the challenge.
You saw many women throwing themselves at him, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest, at least not in front of others. You had no way of knowing if he met with any of them privately, as he seemed like a discreet type of guy, which only made you want him more.
You didn’t like to make a move without being fairly certain of success, so you were trying to understand him first—he wasn’t easy to read. You tried obvious things, like pretending you didn’t know something during training to see if he would turn the instruction into unnecessary physical contact, but it didn’t work. He didn’t touch anyone differently, even when women made advances.
Your last attempt was to switch to private lessons, and when you discussed it with him, the conversation was pleasant, though you struggled to hide your true intentions.
“So, do you still have any spots left for private lessons?”
“Yes, but only the late ones. Is it for you?”
“Yes, for me. That’s no problem. Could you please send me the price for three sessions a week?”
“Don’t you think that’s too much?”
“Oh no, I’m really focused.”
“No problem, then.”
So there you were, getting ready for your first private session with him, feeling a bit nervous. The class was scheduled from 9 to 10 p.m., so you knew you’d wake up sore, but that didn’t bother you.The gym closed at 9 p.m., so it would be just the two of you there for the entire hour. You weren’t exactly sure how you’d make a move on him, or if you even had the nerve to do it, but having him all to yourself was a great start. Maybe you’d start by trying to get to know him a little better.
For a moment, the whole plan seemed really stupid in your head, you hadn’t even said it out loud. You didn’t even know if he was single, so you tried to convince yourself that you were doing this for the health benefits, not because of your lust.
You arrived a bit early, and he was finishing up a class with some random guy. You stood there and watched. The intensity level was much higher than you expected, and you even started to doubt if you could handle that three times a week, but you didn’t want to give up just yet.
When the class ended, they greeted each other, and the man left, leaving the room empty except for you and Minho.
“I’m gonna clean the tatami and grab some water. You can stretch if you want. I’ll be right back.”
You nodded and waited for him to clean it so you could use the tatami to do your stretching routine. You were still feeling a bit sore from the last training, but it was fine.
You were just wrapping your hands with the bandages when he came back and asked you to stop and wait. You didn’t quite understand, but you stopped anyway, trying hard not to stare as he got closer.
“Let me do that for you.”
“You don’t have to…”
“All of you do it wrong, and I’m kinda tired of trying to teach it, so I just do it myself when it’s only me and the person I’m training.” He smiled as he held your hand, and your heart skipped a beat—you had never seen him this close before. You followed his instructions, opening and closing your hands as he told you to.
“There we go, now you’ve learned, right?”
“I think so… let’s see if I can do it by myself.”
“Relax, I’ll do it for you again if you need it.”
Minho explained how the training would work: he’d be holding the pads while you threw punches, and occasionally he’d try to hit you so you could learn to dodge.
You started the first round and felt tired within the first two minutes. It was a lot to manage, dividing your attention between punching and defending. You were used to just repeating sequences, but switching to personal training was a thousand times harder—and much more fun.
You missed defending one of his strikes and took a hit to the ribs. The sound made Minho stop the round, and he looked really concerned.
“Did I hurt you? I’m really sorry…”
“It’s fine! I don’t mind the pain, I kinda like it…”
You realized what you’d said right after saying it and blushed a little, trying not to laugh. You noticed that he tried to hold back a smile too. He was totally different compared to how he acted during the group classes. He was much more talkative, relaxed, and kept giving you really useful tips.
You took a few more hits, but nothing that hurt too much. You had to assure him that you were fine, that something like this wouldn't knock you down.
"You did really well. Usually, someone from the group training can't handle the first full class."
"Thanks!" You felt a bit awkward with the compliment, since he never said anything like that during the group classes. "But now that I’ve done the first one, I’m really questioning if I’ll be able to handle it three times a week..."
"We can try. If it’s too much, we can cut back. But I think you’ve got it."
He winked at you. What was that? Normally, you would’ve taken it as flirting, but since it was him, you pretended it didn’t happen. He must have noticed you were a little thrown off. It was awful being so transparent.
“Do you live near here?”
“About a 5-minute walk, maybe…”
“Me too. Are you driving?”
“Not today…”
“Want a ride?”
There was probably nothing behind the offer, which was a shame, but you’d accept it anyway. You had every intention of hitting on him, but you started holding back because he seemed more approachable, and that felt strange to you. You weren’t ready for someone so different from what you were used to, though you were definitely enjoying it.
You closed up the gym together and got into his car. It was clean, smelled nice, like it had just been washed. You almost felt bad, sitting there being drenched in sweat.
“So, which way do you live?”
You briefly explained where you lived, and then found out Minho lived just two blocks away from you. You were pleased to realize you were geographically lucky too—you were practically neighbors.
“We could start running this route on the way back. What do you think? It’d be a good post-training routine.”
“I’m not sure I could handle running after class, Minho... but I’ll give it a try.”
“Alright then. See you in two days?”
“Yes! Good night, and thanks for the ride.”
You weren’t sure how to say goodbye. You felt too awkward to shake his hand, and a kiss on the cheek seemed a little too intimate. So, you just got out of the car without looking back, regretting not asking if he was single.
You trained together for almost three weeks, keeping up the crazy routine of running after class. You noticed how much your stamina had improved in such a short time—your reflexes, too, along with everything else. You could almost keep up with him in sparring, considering he was lowering his level for you, and you were even invited to advance to a higher belt level.
You two were getting closer. He was much easier to talk to during the one-on-one sessions, just the two of you.
“You’re different in personal training. I used to be a little scared to talk to you.”
“In the group, I have to divide my attention a lot. It’s more complicated. But scared, why?”
“I don’t know… you just seemed more serious.”
“Like I said, it’s a lot of people to focus on.”
“And a lot of people to turn down, too!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
The tone he used made it clear he was being sarcastic, along with the teasing smile on his face.
“Seriously, the girls are torturing themselves trying to get your attention. Nobody even knows if you’re single or not!”
“And you’re asking because you wanna know?”
“Yes, I’m curious.”
“And why haven’t you asked me before?”
“Because I thought it would be too invasive… but since we’re on the topic, are you single?”
“It’s just a simple question, nothing to worry about. And yes, I’m single. And you?”
“Me too. If I had a boyfriend, he probably wouldn’t like me training this late and getting rides from my instructor…”
“The ride was just that one time!”
“Even so…”
Your conversations were becoming more relaxed, and you allowed yourself to flirt a bit, hoping maybe he’d make the first move. From where you were standing, it seemed like the only thing missing was for someone to take that first step. But yes, you were too much of a coward to do it yourself because you were having fun with him, and you didn’t want things to get weird if he ended up rejecting you.
Another week of training passed, and on Friday, when you were closing up the gym, you both heard the sound of thunder, announcing an incoming storm. Neither of you had a car that day, so you thought you might have time to get home without getting soaked. But as soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the rain started, and it wasn’t light.
Minho grabbed your arm, opting not to stop, and the two of you ran through the rain until you reached your house. The storm got worse, with lightning and the rain pouring down harder, so you thought maybe he should wait a bit before heading home.
“Come inside. You can wait out the storm and then go home.”
At that moment, he didn’t question you, just came into your garage. Both of you were drenched in your workout clothes, and the sight you got was well worth the trouble of the rain. His thighs were perfect and muscular, and the way his shirt clung to his chest and abs left you very satisfied. And a bit nervous, too. He was way too hot.
You were fully aware that he was looking at you too. Your tank top was thin, and you were cold, with your nipples clearly visible through the fabric, your thighs outlined by your shorts, which were also tightly hugging your ass.
“You can come upstairs with me, I’ll grab some towels… we got soaked.”
“Damn, yeah. I hope I don’t get sick after this.”
You both climbed the stairs, and you felt a little crazy because you could sense Minho’s eyes on you, especially since you were walking ahead, imagining what kind of view he was getting from below.
He stopped in your living room, took off his shoes before stepping in, and seemed a little uncomfortable about getting the floor wet. You quickly grabbed two sets of towels and handed him one, because a single towel wouldn’t be enough. Your hair was dripping wet.
“Don’t worry about the floor…” You used one towel to dry your hair, and with the other you started drying your arms first. Since your clothes were soaked, you took off your shirt and remained in just your sports bra. It wasn’t anything new for him, you’d trained in just a bra before. “If you want, I can throw your clothes in the dryer. It’s still raining pretty hard... who knows when it’ll stop.”
“But what am I going to wear? Are you trying to get me naked without even offering dinner first?!”
“You could wear nothing, but I have a roommate who works at night and could lend you some clothes, you know?”
“Well, if that’s the case…” Minho decided to take off his shirt, and you watched as the fabric peeled off his skin in what felt like slow motion, revealing a part of his body that had been a mystery to you. He wasn’t ripped, but he was athletic, with big arms and well-defined shoulders. “Are you just going to keep staring? You’re making me embarrassed.”
“I’ll go get the clothes…”
Chris’s clothes would probably fit Minho well, they were about the same size. Just to be sure, you grabbed the biggest ones you could find.
When you came back to the living room, you found your instructor wearing nothing but his underwear, his soaked clothes piled on the floor, and he was wrapping a towel around his waist. You barely realized you had frozen in place from what you were seeing and had to make a very conscious effort to keep moving, feeling your nipples harden again, this time not from the cold.
“Here they are… the bathroom is down the hall if you want a hot shower. I’m not sure how much hot water we still have, though…”
“No need for all that, I don’t want to inconvenience you. If anyone should shower, it’s you. It’s your house.” He reached out to take the clothes while still drying himself with the other towel.
“I just don’t want to risk the water going cold again…”
You almost had a heart attack when lightning struck somewhere nearby, and in the next moment, all the streetlights went out, including the power in your house. It took you a few seconds to recover from the shock, and then you used your phone’s flashlight to grab the candles you had stashed for a moment like this.
“This rain really isn’t going to stop,” he said, heading toward the window, the towel still wrapped around his waist, the image of the outline in his underwear still in your mind.
“You can stay here if you want, my roommate won’t be back until late… I can let him know I’m lending his bed.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Thanks for this.”
You lit several candles around the house, most on the floor, some on the kitchen counter, and others in the living room. Afterward, you realized you needed to change your clothes because you were starting to get really cold. You excused yourself and went to your room with your phone’s flashlight.
You stripped completely and dried off thoroughly with the towel before putting on anything. You had your really hot instructor in your living room, the man you’d been wanting for a while now, so you decided to dress in a way that would catch his attention. You picked out a pair of short workout shorts that you usually wore at home and decided not to wear any underwear, letting the fabric show off as much as it could. To balance it out, you grabbed an oversized T-shirt but skipped the bra. It was too dark for him to see much anyway.
When you came back to the living room, he had neatly piled his clothes near the door. You picked them up to put them in the dryer, and then you noticed that he had taken off his underwear.
Your hot instructor was sitting on your couch, wearing loose clothes, no underwear. It felt like an opportunity falling from the sky, along with the relentless rain.
“So… do you want something to eat?”
“I don’t usually eat dinner, but if you have any fruit, I’ll take some.”
You opened the fridge and found two cups of fruit salad that you’d bought for yourself and your roommate. You grabbed both and handed one to Minho.
“How long have you been living here?”
“About six months… and you?”
“Three years or so. But I live alone. No roommates, had to kick the last one out.”
“Why?” You laughed, noticing how the candlelit atmosphere was perfect for your not-so-innocent intentions.
“Too noisy.”
“Do you prefer quiet?”
“Depends… but usually, yes.”
“Me too. My roommate’s pretty chill and is out of the house most of the day.”
“Are you sure it’s okay if I use his bed tonight?”
“Unless you’d prefer using mine…” You smiled and tried to add a playful tone to what you said, secretly hoping he’d notice that you weren’t joking.
Minho finished eating and set the cup and fork on the coffee table, then looked at you with a different smile—one filled with mischief, and something more.
“Only if you'll be in it, too.”
Success.
There was a pause for a few seconds where you both stared at each other, almost like you needed to make sure you were both serious. You moved at the same time, leaning in to kiss, and Minho quickly grabbed the back of your neck, giving you a taste of the grip you imagined he’d have.
The kiss was aggressive, intense, just as you thought it would be, and wow, you’d fantasized about this moment a lot. You let him take control, setting the pace you would follow, and you surrendered to it more and more. It didn’t take long before you were sitting on his lap, feeling his erection through his shorts, the friction creating a hot sensation on your clit, making your pussy throb and you moan heavily between kisses.
His hands slipped under your oversized shirt, sliding up your abdomen until they grabbed your tits, squeezing them while he bit your lower lip, then teasing your nipples with his thumbs, making them hard.
“Be honest…” He pulled off your shirt, his hands now resting on your bare waist. “How long have you been wanting this?”
“Since I first saw you… kinda.” You pulled his shirt off too, tossing it along with yours somewhere on the floor.
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“I didn’t think I had a chance with you…” You rested your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles beneath your touch, savoring the warmth of his soft skin. “So, I waited to be sure. What about you? Are you just enjoying the opportunity, or was this something you wanted too?”
“I wanted it, but I also thought I didn’t stand a chance, since you never made a move.” His hands moved down to grab your ass, running his fingers over the fabric of your shorts, suddenly realizing something. “No underwear?”
“That’s a lie! I tried to get closer, but you’re so hard to read during class.” You ground against him, adjusting yourself better on his erection. “And yes, I’m not wearing any underwear.”
“It’s not quite like that… Fuck.” He pulled your hair again and kissed you. Your body pressed against his, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You stayed like that for a while, kissing and touching each other until you opened your eyes and realized the power had come back on. Much sooner than expected.
Minho stood up from the couch, lifting you in his arms as he carried you down the hallway. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck, holding him tighter and pressing your breasts against his chest.
“Which one is your room?”
“Last door.”
You entered your room, and he laid you down on the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you. His weight on top of yours felt really good. You spread your legs to let him settle between them, pulling him closer, trapping him against you. The lights were on, and you wanted to keep them that way because it would be worth it.
You squeezed his ass with both hands, making him push his erection between your legs while he trailed kisses down your neck, leaving wet trails that made you shiver. He bit you a few times, softly at first and then harder to leave a mark, and you gradually melted beneath him, feeling your pussy getting wetter from the friction between you.
He propped himself up on his knees so he could use his hands on you, trailing one down your body while his kisses and bites made their way to your tits. His fingers went straight for your shorts, where the fabric was already soaked.
“Would you have stayed this wet all night if I hadn’t said anything?”
“I probably would’ve made a move on you… eventually.”
His laughter against your skin gave you goosebumps, and he pressed deeper between your legs, making your shorts stick to your folds with a wet sound. He rubbed your clit over the thin fabric, making you moan and spread your legs wider, feeling frustrated by the clothes you were still wearing.
“How do you like it?” He added more pressure with his fingers, pushing the fabric of your shorts against your entrance, soaking everything even more. “I have a guess, but I want to be sure.”
“Looks like you guessed it right… I like it rough.” You remembered how he had pulled your hair, still feeling the slight sting on your scalp, just like the love bites he’d left on your neck and breasts.
His response was to pull off your shorts, making a point of showing you just how soaked the fabric was with your arousal. Minho spread your legs, grabbing your thighs and kissing the insides, slowly working his way toward the center, until he reached your mound. He breathed in your scent, covered your skin with kisses, and descended to your clit, where he started teasing with the tip of his tongue, barely touching you.
You tangled a hand in his still-damp hair, pushing the strands away from his face so you could watch him. He held your thighs open and immobile as he began eating you out, his tongue and lips doing an amazing work, while occasionally his nose would rub against your clit. The stimulation was intense, so you grabbed your breasts, pinching your nipples to heighten the sensation even more, as your legs tried to close every time he brought you close to orgasm.
You began to pull his hair and grind against his face, desperate to cum, when he decided to tease your entrance, slipping a finger inside and taunting you by pulling it out and pushing it back in.
You couldn’t take it anymore, your moans turning into whiny complaints, and he seemed to love leaving you this desperate.
“Not yet. When you cum, you're gonna make a mess for me.”
Your body relaxed as he moved his mouth away from your clit, ruining the orgasm you had built up after all that stimulation. You were frustrated, but he kept kissing, licking, sucking, and fingering you. Except, it wasn’t like he was doing it to make you come, but more for his own entertainment. He toyed with your arousal, stretching the wet string between your pussy and his fingers before savoring them. You had half a mind to push his head away and finish yourself off, but then he added another finger, using his thumb on your clit while kissing your thighs. You started grinding against his hand, seeking more friction, feeling that familiar tightness building in your core.
“You’re too eager…” He slowed his movements, leaving you frustrated again.
“I can’t take it anymore… I wanna cum.”
“Hmm…” He curled his fingers inside you, searching for a different texture until he found it and pressed, making you moan loudly. “But I need to tease you more, it’ll be better that way…”
He kept pressing on your G-spot while his thumb made torturously slow circles on your clit, which was now swollen and sensitive, craving more friction.
You weren’t sure what exactly he was planning, but you had an idea based on all the pressure he was applying inside you, varying the rhythm, driving you crazy as your sensitivity kept increasing. The wet sounds were getting louder, and you felt like you were leaking even more onto his hand, the sensation was much different from the usual.
“You’re ready… now I’ll give you what you want.” His thumb on your clit applied more pressure, and soon he switched to the other hand for more precision. “Don’t hold back, darling.”
The fingers inside you suddenly started moving roughly, hitting your G-spot over and over, a frantic rhythm that made your eyes roll back from the sheer pleasure, your whole body becoming useless as you felt something building up inside.
“That’s it, don’t hold it back… I want you to cum.”
It felt like you were going to explode, all the stimulation in just the right spots was wrecking you, your body twisting under his touch, feeling the pressure your body was trying to release. Your orgasm was close, your clit too sensitive, and yet you ground against his fingers even more as he kept fucking your pussy with the other hand.
You closed your eyes and did as he said, no matter how weird the sensation felt. Minho kept up the same rhythm and made you cum really hard, and as soon as he noticed you pushing his fingers out of your pussy, he pulled them away, and you felt the liquid gush out, dripping down to your ass and forming a puddle on the bed.
You wanted to scream because it was so intense, your whole body was shaking and you were almost crying from the pleasure. It was so different from what you were used to, and you never thought squirting like that was possible. Your legs trembled violently as the waves of pleasure washed over you, completely out of control of your body. He kept touching your clit without stopping, slapping it a few times to make you notice the huge mess you had made, the bed soaked beneath you.
“Hmm…” He bent down, spreading your legs again to lick your thighs, kissing your mound and clit while you thought you might pass out after that. “Hope you’re not too tired.”
You ended up laughing because you were absolutely wrecked, and you were still in the foreplay stage. The wait had been worth it.
You propped yourself up on your elbows to lift your body and check the damage to the bed, truly impressed by how much you had soaked everything.
“I should grab a towel next time, apparently.”
“Next time?” He moved closer to kiss you on the mouth, making you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. “You already have plans?”
“Of course, I’ve had plans for the first time for a while! After that, I’m obviously going to want more.”
“Good to know. Next time, I’ll take you to dinner first.”
Your body was starting to function again, so you managed to push him over and reverse your positions, ending up on top of him.
“Dinner? How sweet.”
You leaned in to kiss him, grinding your hips over his, rubbing against the bulge in his shorts, eager to finally see him without any clothes. You trailed kisses down to his neck, then to his chest, making sure to bite hard enough to leave a mark before licking and teasing his nipples, prompting him to bring his hands to your head, gathering your hair up so he could watch you as you worked your way down to his stomach.
You pulled off his shorts, freeing his erection and discarding the fabric, tossing it to the side. You loved seeing him naked on your bed, and as you crawled back up, caressing his legs, you took extra time to squeeze his thighs. Minho’s thighs were perfect, and if you weren’t so thirsty for him, you probably would’ve come just from grinding on one of them. Maybe you’d save that for later, or for the next round. You settled between his legs, sitting on your heels and scratching him lightly, admiring the red marks that immediately appeared. You trailed your hands up to grasp his cock, hypnotized by the precum dripping from the tip, the flushed tip, and the veins that you couldn’t wait to feel with your lips. You stroked him slowly, using both hands, already imagining how it would feel when he was inside you, the thought making you clench and wanting to touch yourself, but you held back.
His hands were still keeping your hair out of the way, so you licked your lips and licked his entire length, watching as he furrowed his brow and bit his lip, eyes locked on you.
He closed his eyes as you sucked on the tip, slowly taking his cock into your mouth, resting him on your tongue, making him sigh louder. Minho became much more vocal when you sucked harder, pushing your head down as you took more of him in, almost making him come. You squeezed his thighs and stopped, unable to bear how your arousal was dripping, desperate for something inside.
You mounted him, using his cock to rub against your folds and clit, mixing your juices with his as you ground against him, making it even messier.
“Condom?” he asked, making you realize you were both out of breath. “I only have some in my car.”
“And I might have one in my roommate’s room. But…” You kept grinding, feeling him leaking against you. “I’m on the pill, I’m clean… you?”
“Fuck… me too. But if you want, I can go grab one…” The way his hands gripped your thighs said otherwise. You lifted your hips slightly, positioning him at your entrance, spreading your pussy lips to guide him in, and started slowly sitting down.
You closed your eyes, balancing yourself by resting your hands on his chest, feeling the delicious sensation of your pussy being filled and stretched, your insides still sensitive from how he had teased you before. You rocked your hips side to side, slowly sinking further. You bit your lip to stifle your moans, but it became impossible when his hands grabbed your breasts, pinching your nipples roughly.
You found an angle that gave you even more pleasure and started riding him slowly, this time resting your hands on your thighs. His hands roamed your body, touching you everywhere, until one hand gripped your waist while the other moved between your legs, teasing you first with his thumb on your clit before spreading your lips and watching how you slid down his cock.
You varied the pace, focused on trying to come again, still more sensitive from the magic he had worked with his fingers earlier. Your body was already sweating, and you had dug your nails into his chest hard enough to hurt him, though he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.
He placed his hands on your waist and pushed you to the side, lifting you off him just as you were about to come. You opened your mouth to protest, even muttering something in frustration, but he threw you onto the bed, lifting your legs against his chest before thrusting deep and hard into you, bringing you to the edge once more. Your hand flew to your clit, and you started rubbing yourself, the intense sensitivity sending shockwaves through you as he pounded into you, wrapping his arms around your legs, the loud sound of his thighs slapping against your ass filling the room.
The moment your orgasm hit, he spread your legs and buried himself deep inside, leaning forward and halting his movements, feeling how your pussy clenched around him, groaning along with you as he watched. Minho collapsed on top of you, sucking on your neck before kissing his way up to your mouth, as you felt the last waves of pleasure leaving you, all your senses overwhelmed as your body relaxed.
You were dizzy for the second time. Having your orgasm interrupted made it even more intense, and your whole body was tingling from his kisses. You scratched your hands down his back, wanting to leave him marked the same way he was doing to you.
Barely catching your breath, he was already moving again, but this time slowly, just feeling you. He bit your bottom lip, stopping once more, and pulled out of you. You were almost satisfied, your body heavy, feeling like dead weight on the bed because of him.
Minho lay down beside you and pulled you close, turning your body so your back was pressed to his chest, and he could enter you from the side. You arched your back to press your ass against his pelvis and lifted your leg, guiding his cock back inside. No matter how exhausted you were, you still wanted more. Hearing him moan so close to your ear made you moan with him, his voice so sexy it made you push your hips back even further. Only then did he start thrusting lazily, his hands exploring your body.
You let one arm slide beneath you, his hand finding your breast, gripping it while pulling you even closer. You closed your eyes, focusing on each sensation: his breath on your neck, his voice vibrating against your already tingling skin, your nipple being teased, the delicious sting of each thrust. It all had you on edge, making you want to come again.
“You seem recovered…” He licked your neck up to your ear, biting the lobe. “Or do you need more time?”
“I thought you were going to fuck me rough…”
Minho laughed against your skin, using his hand to push your leg down, making you close them. He slid his hand along the back of your thigh, and everything happened at once the moment he slapped your ass hard enough to make you scream. With the slap, he pulled you even tighter, his hand that had been on your breast now gripping your neck, pressing the sides. His thrusts became more intense, grabbing your waist to hold you still so you wouldn’t move every time he slammed into you.
The next few minutes were insane, so much that you almost asked him to stop because it was too much. You were sure you’d be sore afterward, but you knew you’d beg for more if you had to.
You could tell he was close to cum, Minho was gripping you too tightly, both on your neck and your waist. He must have realized you were almost passing out when he loosened his fingers but didn’t let go, just easing the pressure. He fucked you hard, groaning and grunting near your ear, turning you on even more with every touch, every sound. You moved your hand to his ass, wanting him to come, wanting him to go harder and deeper, even though it seemed impossible.
“I’m gonna cum… fuuuuuck…”
“Don’t pull out!” It was all you could manage to say before you started moaning from the animalistic rhythm of his thrusts, unable to stay still even though he was holding you so tight.
You moaned along with him as his groans got longer when he came inside, feeling how much he filled you, some of it leaking out even though he didn’t pull out, and only then did you feel truly satisfied.
Minho released your neck and took a deep breath, kissing your nape and stroking the skin on your waist and ass, likely leaving a handprint behind.
“Should I leave now? The rain lightened up.”
You were almost falling asleep, the exhaustion from the workout, the run, and the hot sex hitting you hard. You glanced back with your eyes nearly shut, reaching out to turn off the light and then pulling the blanket over both of you.
“If you get out of this bed, I’ll kick your ass. Let’s see how well you taught me.”
“As if you could ever beat me.”
He settled behind you, holding you tighter while still inside. You drifted off in seconds, and you think he did too. You woke up to sounds of someone else in the apartment, eyes wide open, remembering you hadn’t closed the bedroom door.
“Hey, why’s one of my shirts in the living room?”
Chris had come home and was heading toward your room. You panicked. Even though you were totally covered, Minho and you were both naked and your thigh was coated in his cum. The room smelled like sex, and you didn’t want your roommate to witness this, but there was no way of avoiding it. You couldn’t even move when you saw him standing in the doorway.
“Oh.”
“Sorry, I borrowed your shirt for my teacher…”
Minho sighed behind you, and you knew he was awake when he shifted his hips, rubbing his erection against your ass.
“Sorry, weren’t you in boxing class? What kind of class is this?”
“Get out, idiot. Close the door, please.”
“I hope you’ll wash the clothes later.”
You heard his footsteps fading down the hallway, took a deep breath, thoroughly embarrassed. You thought about going back to sleep, but apparently, Minho had other plans.
“I see you’re awake.”
“Sleeping with my dick inside you was great, I gotta say.”
“My roommate’s right next door, we can’t make noise…” You grinded against him, unsure if you could handle sex so soon because you were sore.
“Then we can wait until morning.”
“We can. But…” You reached for his cock, rubbing it against your folds and sliding it inside, the burn making you moan with discomfort. “Think you can sleep like this?”
“It’s cruel, but I can. It’ll keep me ready to fuck you later.”
Can I request a fake text between Lee know and reader (gn) where Lee know is feeling down on himself and can’t get his dance moves right and reader accidentally confuses but Lee know doesn’t know how he feels about them and kinda leaves them on read??
You accidentally confess to a discouraged Minho | Minho x you (gn reader)
Part 2 - Part 3
Same of the same series in my masterlist
Warnings: explicit sexual content, established fuck buddy relationship, bratty reader, dominant lee know, fingering (f. rec), they dislike each other but fuck sometimes 🔞
pairing: minho x reader
genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; mentions of drinking, cursing, hella unedited and tbh i kinda gave up toward the end but i wanted to post smth lmao
word count: 1.2k
note: inspired by the events of friday night in which i had 1.3 bottle of soju and promptly passed out while unmuted all night in my discord server lmfao
as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
navigation › masterlist › ko-fi
the first thing you do when you wake up is scowl.
at the sun. at the sky. at the cars and at the people going about their day on the street below. at soonie and doongie when you find them just peacefully existing in their respective corners of the room.
at minho who's looking at you from the doorway with an amused expression on his face.
"look who's finally up," he says, approaching the bed with a glass of water in his hands. "it's almost 1pm, heathen."
you groan, covering your face with your hands as you try to sink further into the mattress. "why are you so loud today?"
"this is my normal volume?"
"your normal volume is loud."
"hmm, could this be because last night you knocked back an entire bottle of soju and then some and therefore you have a raging headache right now?"
you blink, still delirious from the night before. it's obvious that the alcohol hasn't completely left your system and minho is right. there's a pounding in your head and you wish it would stop.
you ignore his sassy quip, trying to recall what happened. "how did i get home?"
it was supposed to be a cozy night in with your friends. you'd been looking forward to last night for weeks because all of you had been so busy with your respective lives, and a fun girl's night was desperately needed. to catch up, to gossip about your partners, to escape your tiresome realities for a few hours.
and of course, to unwind and drink. not to the point of being blackout drunk; just to de-stress a little.
"how do you think?" minho asks, holding out the water for you until you muster enough strength to sit up and take it from him. he watches as you greedily gulp down the liquid to satiate your dry throat, giving him back the empty glass when you're done and lying back down again. he sets the glass on your bedside table before he joins you under the covers. "boyfriend of the year went out in the middle of the night to drag your ass home."
"you took me home?"
"i just said boyfriend of the year, didn't i?"
despite his smartass attitude, minho still snakes an arm around your body to pull you close to him, until your head is lying on his chest while he strokes your hair gently.
"it was just soju. plum soju!" you try to justify your actions, throwing a leg over his and snuggling further into the warmth of his body. "only thirteen percent!"
minho scoffs. "that's how they get you. the fun flavors make you think that you're gonna be fine if you do just a couple more shots. next thing you know, you're sending your boyfriend gibberish messages at 2am."
to emphasize his point, minho shows you his phone, goes straight to the text thread you two share.
you mostly sent him nonsense, seemingly a lot of keyboard smashes and blurry drunken selfies of you and your friends. then came the last few messages.
you: oh naue why rom sponnign
you: i wsntto go homrr
you: mimo tskeeee me homeee
"oh." you purse your lips. "drunk me was a moment."
"no, she was a lot of moments actually. you stayed up for almost two hours after i brought you home."
"doing what?"
your boyfriend looks down at you, an unimpressed look on his face before he rolls his eyes and sighs, recanting the story of how you exhausted him just hours prior.
"stop squirming," minho said, trying to keep your head from lolling to the side as he wiped at your face with a cotton pad doused in micellar water.
but you kept giggling, kept trying to hold his cheeks so you could kiss him. "mimo, you're so pretty. my pretty, pr-" hiccup! "pretty mimo."
it took him thirty whole minutes just to take your makeup off, then another forty five to go through your skincare routine.
-
it was an entire struggle to get you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear because apparently, the feeling of him tugging your blouse over your head and sliding your jeans down your legs tickled that amorous part of your brain - your horndog side, if you will.
you instantly latched onto him, climbing on top of him to sit on his lap, attempting to trail kisses along his neck when all minho was trying to do was put your t-shirt on.
"not now," he scolded you lightly, pushing you away by your shoulders before he held your arms up just long enough to slip the shirt over your body.
"whyyy not?"
"mostly because you're about ten seconds away from passing out."
but that wasn't something that your intoxicated brain could comprehend. all you understood was that your boyfriend didn't want to have sex with you, that he was rejecting you.
you went quiet all of a sudden, your lips pouting, your eyes turning glassy before you practically sob, "you don't want me anymore."
minho could only sigh.
-
"what now?" he had finally managed to get your restless ass into bed, thinking you'd surely knock out within seconds of hitting the sheets. but when he returned to the bedroom five minutes later, having cleared away your clothes to be put in the washer in the morning, minho found you lying on your side, your eyes glued to your phone, your face illuminated by the blue light coming from the device. "why aren't you sleeping?"
you were going through your camera roll, watching your old videos like they were your favorite tv show. videos of you and him, videos of him and the cats, or just random videos of him that you took when you thought he wasn't paying attention.
it was cute how you were so immersed, how you kept giggling and making heart eyes at the version of minho captured on your phone. it made him smile, just standing there and watching you like that.
it was beyond endearing, but it was also fucking 4:18am.
minho snatched the device away from you and put it somewhere you couldn't reach before he settled into bed with you.
"i miss my mimo," you whined. "give me back my mimo."
he knew there was no use in telling you that you didn't need to miss him when he, the object of your affection himself, was lying next to you. instead, he just yanked you closer, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and holding you tightly so you couldn't move, hoping that it would eventually lull you to dreamland.
"your mimo is right here. now go to sleep, you menace."
"and not to mention you kept-"
"nope." you put a hand over minho's mouth so he would shut up. "i've heard enough."
he pushes your hand away. "i deserve compensation for what i had to go through last night."
"the satisfaction of taking care of your wonderful girlfriend wasn't enough for you?"
"no," he says. then, you both just stare at each another for a few minutes.
"fine," you relent. "i'll make it up to you with one hundred kisses."
content: you and Minho have been under a lot of stress recently, resulting in neglected responsibilities. when some forgotten laundry sparks an argument between you two, things get heated.
song inspiration: american horror show by snow wife -> “hey baby, I like it when you piss me off, hey baby, usually means the sex is rough” | “I kiss freaks that treat me like an animal, fuck on me and eat me like a cannibal”
word count: 8.2k. sorry not sorry🤷♀️ promise it’s worth it😉
warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, dom!minho, switch!reader, established relationship, angst, arguing, rough sex, cursing, dirty talk, edging/ruined orgasms, overstimulation, sir kink, good girl/praise kink, oral (f. receiving), p in v, multiple positions, unprotected sex (ya’ll, don’t do it. it’s only sexy in a story with no consequences. also psa, pee after sex, because getting a uti is a bitch), cockwarming if you squint, hair pulling, spanking, choking, exactly one face slap, PUBES, use of nicknames (jagi, jagiya, princess, babe, baby, minho calls reader a whore, but like, lovingly), marking, crying, squirting, subspace, brief mention of established safe words, brief mention of aftercare, brief mentions of other members but not in a sexual way, fluff, happy ending
•
•
•
Laundry. Little did you know that laundry would be the straw that broke the camel’s back this week.
It had been a long week for both you and Minho. More like weeks, but this past week really wore out the both of you. It was busy season at your job, and you were dealing with deadline after deadline. This meant working late hours almost every night, leaving very little time for much else. You were exhausted, physically and mentally, but hey, the paychecks were nice.
For Minho, comeback season was only a few weeks away. This meant hours upon hours of practice at the studio, learning new choreographies, filming pre-scheduled content, and even working on a few preliminary recordings for the next comeback. His body and brain had been pushed way beyond what he thought he was capable of handling. Yet, he was still pushing through, knowing the hard work was worth it, for his members and for STAY.
These busy seasons weren’t foreign to your relationship, and you both typically got through them without issue. That’s actually part of why you both worked so well together, as you each didn’t mind periods of alone time, and were very understanding of each other’s situations; you still knew that at the end of the hectic days and nights, you had each other, and that was enough.
However, you weren’t living together the first couple years of your relationship, and now you’re going on 4 months of sharing a home. A perk of living together meant shared responsibilities and chores, making life just a little bit easier. A downside of living together though, is the shared responsibilities and chores—things that would get pushed aside during a busy season while on your own wouldn’t bother you, but now those same things affect somebody else. Both you and Minho had been seriously neglecting those chores, too tired from your schedules to do much more than eat and go to bed once getting home. Oh but now, NOW it all has become a complete disaster. Dishes piled up in the sink, clutter and random shit laying everywhere, and the fucking laundry—an awful, massive pile of fabric that is currently the bane of your existence. But you had gotten to the point you were having to steal some of Minho’s clothes, running out of most of your own, and soon enough you’d both be buck-ass naked with nothing clean to wear if you didn’t start this shit now (though, knowing Minho, he probably wouldn’t necessarily see that as an issue).
“Minho,” you shouted from the laundry room, huffing as you lobbed a wet bundle of clothes into the dryer, “please switch over the laundry for me when it’s done, and bring the clothes into the bedroom!”
You didn’t hear a response, so you padded into the kitchen. Minho was at the sink washing the stacks of dirty dishes, up to his elbows in lemon-scented dish suds. If there’s one thing you hate more than doing laundry, it was washing dishes, so you were thankful to see you weren’t going to have to tackle that monstrosity as well tonight.
“Min, did you hear me? I need to run to the grocery store real quick so we have food here this weekend, and I don’t want the clothes to get wrinkly from sitting in the dryer.”
“Hm?” he mumbled, trying to brush the hair out of his face with the dry part of his arm.
“You got it babe? I really need to head to the store right now so it’s not completely dark out on my way back.” Driving at night wasn’t your favorite activity, so you were in a rush to get this errand over with.
“Yeah, I got it, please be safe jagiya,” he said over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the crusty frying pan that was giving his scrubbing-strength a run for its money.
“Always am!” you replied as you grabbed your keys and shoved your feet into your sneakers, heading out the front door. You had expected you’d be gone for an hour max. Well, you were sorely mistaken, because you hadn’t accounted for people. Seriously, do people not know how to walk? We all need groceries, is it too much to ask for a little self-awareness so someone can grab the damn orange juice next to them without it taking 5 years??
What little patience you possessed had officially worn out by the time you made it back home, over 2 hours later. Quietly grumbling to yourself, you stumbled through the front door, arms overflowing with bags of groceries because you’ll be damned if you have to make a second trip.
You quickly put away the groceries, staring into the fridge for a moment as you realized you couldn’t remember the last time it was filled with something other than leftover takeout containers. You also had to stand in awe at the empty, clean sink. You didn’t realize how much of a weight would be taken off your shoulders knowing that the dishes were done. I really need to thank Min for doing that, you noted to yourself.
Speaking of, where is he? He wasn’t in the kitchen, and you didn’t see him in the living room either. Heading into your bedroom, you heard the sink water running from your shared bathroom. Minho must be getting reading for bed. You got excited, knowing you’d be able to do the same right after putting away the most recent load of laundry, and could finally snuggle up next to Minho after way too many nights of going to bed alone, or carefully trying to fall asleep without waking him up after he’d already passed out for the night.
You glanced over the room, expecting to see the laundry basket either on the bed or floor, but you couldn’t find it. Did he put it in the closet? You secretly hoped that maybe he even put the laundry away for you since you had been gone so long. You switched on the light to the closet, and felt your eyebrows pull together in confusion. No basket, and the closet was still filled with more empty hangers than clothes.
“Min??” you called out, the confusion evident in your tone.
Minho appeared in the closet entry, with a freshly washed face, clearly ready for bed. “What jagi?”
“Where’s the clean clothes?”
“What clean clothes?” he questioned, wearing an expression like he didn’t know what clean clothes were.
You blinked at him a few times before plainly stating, “The clean clothes I asked you to take out of the dryer before I left for the store.”
“You didn’t ask me to do that.”
“Yes, I did,” you retorted, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I specifically asked you to take care of that.”
He stared at you for a moment with narrowed eyes, wondering if he had short-term memory loss, because he did not remember you asking him that. All he could remember was you telling him you were going grocery shopping, while he was debating throwing out all the dishes and just buying new ones so he could spare his pruney fingers from more scrubbing.
“Are you serious Minho? You didn’t take out the laundry??” You could feel the frustration start running through your veins. “That means it’s been sitting for hours, and it’s going to be all wrinkly and need to be run through the wash again so I don’t have to iron everything. I asked you to do that for a reason, and now I have to stay up late fixing it so we can leave the house tomorrow and not get arrested for public indecency.”
Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Y/N, are you serious? You can’t seriously be mad at me over laundry.”
“I’m not mad at you over laundry, I’m mad at you for not listening to me about the fucking laundry. You know, I’ve barely spoken to you this week, so I would’ve really appreciated it if the one time I asked something of you, you actually paid attention.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to take them back. One of the things that made you fall in love with Minho was how he always made it a point to listen to what you had to say, even in moments of disagreement. It was unlike you to be so bothered by something so insignificant, but your mental filter was gone, and your petty annoyance was spilling out without resistance.
He stared at you, disbelieving the direction you were starting to take this. His heart rate started to pick up from his own growing aggravation.
“Oh, so that’s how it is? You know, maybe if I wasn’t half-asleep washing dishes for hours, I would’ve understood what you were telling me. But no, I was cleaning up that mess, consisting mostly of your dishes, by the way.”
You couldn’t help the humorless laugh that left your mouth. “Ha, my dishes? I’m sorry, but the same can be said about the laundry, which consists of mostly your clothes. I could open a clothing shop with the amount of your shit piled up in there.”
“Because you’ve been wearing my clothes too! Of course I have more dirty clothes in there!”
Damn, he kinda got you with that one. You would’ve laughed too, but you’re in too deep now to back down. You’re over-tired, worn out, and now this stupid argument about laundry of all things is sending you over the edge.
“Minho, just go to sleep like you always do, and I’ll take care of it, like I always have to do,” you snap back, blood rushing to the tips of your ears as you start trying to push past him to leave the closet. He firmly grabs your arm in the doorway, stopping you from leaving. You look up at him, and you can tell you hit a nerve. Oops.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he questioned lowly, voice barely more than a whisper. He wasn’t so much as angry as he was genuinely surprised at what you said. Did he really leave you to do so much? He knew he hasn’t been doing a lot around the house these past couple weeks, but he was trying, especially by taking care of the dishes tonight. He knew you hated doing it, and he’d gladly take care of it if it meant you could feel a little less overwhelmed with life at the moment.
“I said,” you slowly enunciated your words as you yanked your arm from his grip, “go to sleep, and fuck. off.”
You can’t remember ever being so mean to Minho. You actually can’t remember ever being in an argument so pettily mean over something so ridiculously stupid. The laundry can wait another day, it really doesn’t matter, but you can’t help the way your pent-up stress is finding release in your biting words.
You’re glaring at each other, both not willing to budge. Minho can’t help but glance down at your lips, tightly pursed from your scowl. He also can’t help but start getting pissed off at himself, because why is he finding your expression so cute? His eyes drag further down, and he notices you’re wearing one of his favorite t-shirts. It’s the one you most often steal from him, the one he finds you in after some of your worst days at work. You’d mentioned to him that it brings you a weird sense of comfort when you wear it because it makes you feel close to him—and that it’s also “really soft and comfy, like my Min Min.” He told you if you ever called him that again, he’d have to put you in the air fryer, but that didn’t stop him from melting on the inside at your words.
He looked back to your lips, still holding strong in their scowl. When was the last time he kissed those cute lips? He racked his brain, but all he could remember were the little pecks on the cheek or forehead you’d give one another when one would be asleep before the other when finally home, or right before leaving the house in the morning to take on the day ahead. He misses those lips on his. His misses the way those kisses more often than not lead to more. The way your bodies press together, holding each other close and wishing time could stop so you could stay that way. The heat that eventually starts to build between you both, building and boiling, until it reaches a fever pitch that results in clothes being haphazardly thrown across the room. Some of those clothes are probably in the laundry room currently.
Irritation floods through him again, and he snaps out of his thoughts. Annoyed with his silence, you start to walk away, and he grabs your arm again to stop you.
“You’re not walking away from this Y/N.”
“Oh yeah? Fucking watch me.” You start pulling away, and the next thing you know you’re being pushed roughly against the door frame. Minho then grabs your face with both hands, and slams his lips into yours. You freeze, having not expected that reaction from him.
You feel heat start coursing through you, for multiple reasons. First of all, who the fuck does he think is?? Kissing you while you’re clearly pissed off? It makes you angry. Really angry. And also really fucking turned on.
It had been weeks since the last time you slept together, busy schedules and tired bodies keeping you from escalating to much more than light kissing in the early morning or late evening. You’ve simply been too tired and overwhelmed to be horny.
But now, it’s like your body is confusing the heat of anger with the heat of lust, and with the fire of both fueling you, you push both of your hands against his chest and shove him as hard as you can into the other side of the door frame. You simultaneously hear the thud of his body and the breath of wind escape his mouth from the shove, and for a moment you wonder if you actually hurt him. But the breath leaving him turns into a low moan, so rough and loud you could accurately describe it as a growl. He opens his closed eyes, and looks down at you with the darkest expression you’ve ever seen him wear in the bedroom.
You and Minho certainly have had your fair share of kink exploration over the years, but usually keep it pretty tame, at least, what you two would call tame. At the very worst of your behaviors, you enjoyed bringing out his rougher dom persona while being a little brat, teasing and egging him on until he has tears running down your face from how good he’s making you feel, turning into “such a good girl, Y/N.” Some manhandling wasn’t new (and you honestly wished he’d do it more, haven’t quite gotten around to that conversation yet), but you manhandling him? Yeah, you never had the guts to try that out. Until now.
From his expression, you knew you were in trouble. But with the way you’re feeling right now? So is he.
You keep up your brave streak, and step up to his face, bringing your hand up to twist into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him down until your lips crash together again. The kiss quickly becomes hot, wet, and absolutely filthy. Your tongues are pushing into each other’s mouths, fighting for dominance as your fingers pull his hair tighter, and his hands gripping your waist so hard it hurts. You hope there’s bruises left from it tomorrow.
Not breaking your kiss, Minho starts pushing you towards the bed while somehow pulling you closer to his body at the same time. You can feel his hard length at your hip, and you let out a heavy sigh into his mouth. Suddenly, he pushes you away from him, and you gasp as you thump back into the mattress. You look at his face, and he’s a pure image of a man ready to ruin you. Eyes so hungry, yet calculating, as he starts moving you up to the middle of the bed. His lips are glistening with your combined spit, red and parted, his cute bunny teeth pulling back his bottom lip ever so slightly as he climbs on top of you. His hands press down on either side of your head, his pelvis nestling in between your thighs, almost pinning you down to the mattress.
You say “almost”, because there’s no way you’re letting him win this easily, even with those cute bunny teeth. You let him think you’ve given in by running your hand up his chest, gently resting it at the side of his neck, thumb running over his jaw, looking at him with the best doe-eyes you can manage. You wrap your thighs around his hips tighter, knees digging into him slightly. You begin pulling him down into a kiss, but in reality, you use the movement to get some momentum and use every ounce of core strength (thank you, Changbin, for the occasional gym pointers), and flip him onto his back. One hand next to his head, the other hand that was on the side of his neck is now around the front base of his neck, gently yet firmly pushing him down. Your thighs are now caging his lower half to the bed, pressing down as much as you can into his bulge, hoping he can feel just how wet you are through your leggings.
You wish you could take a picture in this moment, as you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so off guard. His face is a mix of shock, amusement, and clear arousal, and holy shit, you want to do the nastiest things to him right now with his face like that.
You bend your elbow, bringing your face down, lips hovering over his as your eyes roam his expression, and whisper, “What part of ‘fuck off’ did you not understand, Lee Minho?”
Minho lets out a puff of air, amused and annoyed by your use of his full name. He knows you’re a pro at getting under his skin for a sexual advantage, but never have you been so successful at doing that while also being in control. It’s pissing him off, and making his dick so hard and leaky that he wonders if it’s staining his gray sweats. Oh well, what’s another piece of dirty laundry?
“Watch your mouth, Y/N L/N, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“Hmm…” you teasingly hum, dragging your clothed core over the outline in his pants. You noticed he wasn’t just wearing pants, but his gray sweatpants, where you could see the faintest wet marks, indicating he was really enjoying this, despite his sexy threats. “…you’re not very intimidating when you’re the one pinned to this mattress, Min Min. Look at you, pretty cock making a mess already in your sweats…making even more of a mess for me to clean up. What am I going to do with such a filthy boy?”
In that moment, it’s like you could see something flash in Minho’s eyes, and the next thing you know, you’re on your back again, with your hands pried off of him and effortlessly pinned above your head by one of Minho’s deliciously veiny hands. You took a moment to let your eyes follow those same veins, up his wrists and forearms. They’re more pronounced, the adrenaline and exertion making them pop up from his skin more. If you weren’t pinned down, you’d definitely be licking them at this point.
Your eyes follow up until you reach his face, and a shiver runs down your spine. Well, he’s definitely intimidating now—eyes pitch dark, swimming with fiery desire and determination to put you back in your place.
“You keep these fucking hands up here, or I will not hesitate to tie them up. Do you understand me?” he commands, daring you to challenge him again.
You consider that threat, and wonder if it would actually be a threat or more of a blessing? But you can feel you’ve utterly soaked through your panties, and if he doesn’t start doing something to you soon, you might actually combust. So, you decide to behave in an attempt to not waste any more time.
However, he takes your momentary lack of response as another act of control, so he uses his free hand to lightly slap your cheek, then immediately grabs your jaw with a tight grip, his face hovering over yours just as you had earlier.
“I said,” he spits through his teeth, “do you understand me?”
Now you’re the shocked one. Not because of the slap, you’ve played around with that before, but because you didn’t think it was possible to get even more turned on by this man.
“Yes,” you squeak out, the sound distorted due to his hand gripping your jaw so firmly.
“‘Yes’ what, princess?” he eggs on, and you know exactly what he’s looking for. Through your fun in experimenting with your sex life, there was one particular thing that Minho found out he liked to be called in these situations.
“Yes, sir, I understand.”
Minho smirks over this small victory, and rewards you with a messy kiss, all tongue and spit. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs into your mouth, and it takes all you have not to whine at the comment. That was one thing you found you liked to be called. It was always so much more satisfying to be called his good girl after spending some time annoying the shit out of him.
Minho separates himself from you, sitting back on his haunches. He looks you in the eye as his hands grasp the waistband of your leggings, then shucks them down your legs so fast you thought they might’ve ripped. Then he looks down, placing his hands on your knees and pushing them apart to admire your own mess you’ve made of your clothing.
The gusset of your light gray panties had turned charcoal due to your arousal drenching the fabric, sticking to your body, allowing a perfect outline of your pussy for Minho to gawk at. He sucks in his plush bottom lip in an effort to prevent himself from drooling at the sight.
“And you think I’m filthy? You’ve ruined your panties, jagi. Such a shame.”
You can feel your cheeks start to burn at his observation, but the embarrassment quickly fades when you watch him crouch down and lick a long, thick stripe along the center of the fabric. You let out a soft gasp when he sucks in the top of your pussy, right where your clit is throbbing for him. If your panties weren’t soaked before, they are sopping now, with the addition of Minho’s spit seeping through. He runs his tongue all along the ruined piece of clothing, then carefully sucks the fabric between his front teeth and pulls it back, then lets it go with a snap. You can’t help but whine then, and Minho has to hold back a chuckle at your growingly impatient state. Deciding to have a little mercy, he sits back again and pulls off your panties, putting them out of their misery.
It was that moment that you remembered something. Due to your hectic schedule, you hadn’t been taking much time to keep up on your usual pubic hair trimming. You liked to have a little ~something~ down there, but never let it get as overgrown, for lack of a better word, as it was now. Your stomach dropped from the sudden insecurity, and you almost said your safe word to end this all immediately to go run and hide in the bathroom.
But when Minho looked back down at your glistening pussy, he wasn’t turned off by your new appearance. In reality, seeing your body in a more “natural” state, he felt like something in his brain short-circuited. He felt fucking feral at the sight.
His actions followed suit, and before you could dare utter any kind of apology, he was diving back into your sweet cunt, and began eating you out like a compulsion. A guttural moan escaped from him as his tongue explored your folds and dipped into your tight hole, tasting you with no barrier.
You swear you see his eyes roll into the back of his head, and you desperately want to thread your hands that were still above your head into his hair and pull him down even deeper into your dripping pussy, but his earlier threat looms in your brain, and you don’t want to dare do anything that will make him stop.
But you can’t help but buck your hips up into his face, resulting in a quiet growl from him. In an effort to keep you still, he wraps both arms around your upper thighs, but then decides to be a menace and digs his fingertips into the joints between your pelvis and inner hip bones. You jump with a light cry, the pressure point making your back arch off the bed. Minho doesn’t react though, and continues holding your body down with his arms around your thighs, and pulls them back slightly to fold you even more in half.
He swirls his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves, then sucks it between his pursed lips, trading off between the two movements until you’re a moaning mess, legs starting to shake from the stimulation. You feel that familiar knot start to pull tight, and you’re involuntarily moving your hips again, body warring between wanting more and trying to escape from the intense pleasure. Even with Minho’s impressive strength, he can’t keep you completely still (again, thank you Changbin. Min’s not the only one with massive thighs now, huh?) As your body gyrates, he moves his head along with your movements, not allowing you to find any escape from the onslaught of sensation.
You feel your orgasm right on the edge, just about to tip over. But Minho feels it too, knowing your body just as well, if not better than you do. Right when you reach that line, he pulls back from you, almost going off of the bed. You let out the most pitiful sound you’ve ever made as your orgasm fades away, being officially ruined by Minho’s action, and leaving him with a dumbass smirk on his face.
“Min?!” you cry out in frustration, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him better.
“What? You were concerned about having to clean up more messes, right? Didn’t want you to make a mess on these sheets and have to wash them,” he responds with faux innocence.
This little bitch, you thought, letting out an annoyed laugh and rolling your eyes. “Fuck you, Minho,” you grumble, and start to move to the side as if you were getting off the bed.
Minho’s reflexes are about 100x faster than yours, so you shouldn’t be surprised when he uses the opportunity to grab your hips and manhandle you onto your stomach.
With your hands pinned behind your back, he proceeds to get on top of you, his thighs keeping your legs trapped underneath him. You feel him press down harder, allowing you to feel his even harder cock, still tucked into his sweats, grinding against your ass.
“No, actually Y/N…” he begins to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending a cold shiver down your back. You feel him shift his weight briefly, and then you feel the stinging smack of his hand colliding with your ass cheek, causing you to let out a yelp. “…fuck you,” he finishes, and you hope it’s a sincere promise.
He shifts his weight again, still keeping your hands pressed into your clothed back. He decides to let you go, and quickly strips himself of his clothes. You start to flip around while your arms and legs are free, but then feel another stinging slap on your ass in the same spot as earlier.
“Did I tell you to move?” he questions, smacking you again, so hard and so fast you thought you heard the air whistle through his fingers. You’ll surely have a nice bruise of his hand print after this.
“No, sir,” you moan, slightly sticking your ass in the air, ready for more of whatever he was planning on giving you.
“Keep being a good girl, and I’ll let your cute little cunt make a mess all over my cock. You want that, princess?”
Another bruising slap, and you let out a strangled moan. You have to be dripping onto the bed right now. You need him to fuck you right here, right now, until you can’t remember your own name. You knew when you started this sudden little dom experiment that you had very little chance of coming out the winner. No one doms better than your Minho. And now, you want nothing more than to be his good girl. Though, with how Minho treats his good girl, you might actually be the winner after all.
“Yes, sir, please let me cum all over your pretty cock. I want it so bad, I need it so bad, sir!” you cry out, bringing your knees under you, spreading your legs wider and tilting your hips up even more, giving him a perfect view of your drooling cunt clenching around nothing.
“Such a needy little whore, aren’t you?” You can’t see his face, but can hear the slight smile in his voice as he takes in the sight of you spread out for him.
“Only for you, sir.”
“Mm, that’s right jagi,” he praises, and you feel his thumbs spread open your pussy lips, causing you to clench again. You hear him groan, and so wish you could see the look on his face right now.
Then, after what has felt like forever, you feel the silky head of his cock gliding on your cunt, gathering all the wetness flooding out of you, and you practically wail at the sensation. You can’t help what starts coming out of your mouth, on the verge of tears, “Pleasepleaseplease fuck me, fuck my hole so good sir, pleeeease!”
Minho groans again, deep and rough, and if he doesn’t put his cock in you right now, he might start crying too. He starts to slowly put the tip in, and you let out a beautifully high-pitched moan. So pretty, he thinks, and he makes a mental note to bring up the idea of recording you guys someday, so he could capture such a beautiful noise to listen to whenever he wants.
You feel him stretching you out, and it’s slightly uncomfortable as it’s been a while, but the stretch feels so fucking good. You feel so full of him, and can’t believe you’ve gone so long without this. You whine when you feel him bottom out, and clench around his fat cock.
He then places his hands in your hip dips, gripping the soft flesh as he begins to slowly grind his cock into you. You breathe out in relief at the stimulation, but it’s nowhere near enough. You’re going insane with the need to feel him in your guts.
“Sir please,” you cry, “I’m being a good girl, please fuck me faster, fuck me so hard, please sir!”
Minho huffs, “You want me to fuck you harder princess? You wanna be fucked like a dumb whore, is that it?”
“Yess, please! Let me be a whore for you, sir, I promise my pussy will make you cum so good, just give it to me,” you moan out, pathetically begging him to fuck you dumb.
Minho pulls out, and you’re about to completely lose it at him for being so mean, but then he slams his cock back into your pussy and starts fucking you down into the mattress at a relentless pace. Over and over and over again, he’s pulling you back onto his cock, the sound of loud, wet squelches filling the room. He tilts your hips ever so slightly, and he’s pounding right into that spot within you that makes all the thoughts in your head disappear. You start pressing your face into the covers, trying to muffle some of the pornographic sounds leaving your lips, but Minho notices, and won’t have it. He reaches down into your hair, gripping it at the base of your head, and pulling your face out of the covers to force all your sounds to be heard.
The knot inside is building again, and you can feel your eyes start to roll in the back of your head. You’re starting to clench harder around Minho’s cock, and he knows you’re close.
“You gonna make a mess on my cock, jagi? You wanna cream all over my cock like a good whore?” he teases, trying to keep up with the pace he set.
“Yesyesyes, please let me make a mess, sir!” you beg, right on the edge.
“Mmm, then cum, cum right fucking now,” he growls, tightening the grip in your hair, causing you to arch your back even deeper.
His words combined with the deeper angle cause you to crash over the edge, cumming so hard you stop breathing for a second. Minho keeps fucking you through it, and you let out a loud gasp when you finally remember how to breathe.
Minho pulls out, and roughly flips you over onto your back. He starts pulling the shirt you still had on over your head, along with your last clean bralette, chucking both onto the floor, doomed to be covered with cat hair in no time. You thought he might be wanting to finish by cumming on your tits, trying to make even more of a mess, but Minho isn’t anywhere near being done with you.
He brings both your legs straight up, pushing them back by holding down your calves, almost folding you in half like a piece of paper. He grinds his still achingly hard cock back over your spread-out cunt, causing it to catch on your swollen clit. You whine out at the delicious sensation.
“You didn’t think you were done, did you? You want to be a whore for me, huh? Whores get fucked over, and over again. They take what they’re given. You wanted me to fuck you good, jagi?” he starts sliding himself back into your waiting hole, “…then fucking take it,” he finishes, and begins fucking into your pussy so hard that it’s your turn to growl. You meet his eyes, and keep eye contact as you take both of your hands and wrap them around the backs of your thighs, holding your legs open for him even more.
Minho smiles down at you, loving how good you’re being for him. So willing, so filthy, so sexy, and all his. He lets go of your calves so he can bend down, and gives you a sloppy kiss as he keeps pounding into you. His mouth travels to your neck, sucking on the skin, making sure to leave a mark in a spot that wouldn’t be covered easily with clothing. You’re his, and he wants every one to see. When he lets his teeth graze over the tender skin, you let out another high-pitched, airy moan, and Minho smiles again into your neck.
Another orgasm was building quickly, your whole body feeling flushed with heat. You can’t help your legs from shaking, and you can’t keep them open on your own any more. Minho notices, and sits back to pull your legs over his shoulders, bringing his arms around the sides of your legs and pressing his hands into the mattress.
While he adjusted the position, you looked down to where your bodies met, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see you weren’t the only one slacking on trimming. Minho was never one to be bare down there, even if he kept the rest of him pretty hairless. You always thought it was sexy. But you can’t remember ever seeing him this far out from a trim. The sight of him so unkept, soaked and matted from both of your bodies, turned you on so much that you wondered if you asked him to keep it that way if he would.
Minho was continuing to hit that spot inside just right, and you were starting to cum again. Knowing the effect his filthy words had on you, he decided to help keep pushing you over by running his mouth.
“There it is, princess, keep cumming on my cock. Such a good girl for me, making my cock feel so fucking good in your sloppy pussy.”
You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, preventing yourself from screaming in pleasure, his words making you go cross-eyed. He was truly fucking you dumb, just like you wanted.
Minho thought going so long without having sex with you would make him overly sensitive, unable to control himself. But he was no stranger to pushing his limits, and seeing your fucked-out face made him determined to push you to your limits too.
“One more,” he instructed, pulling out again and flipping you onto your side, “you’re gonna give me one more, and then I’m going to cum inside this pretty pussy of yours, got it?”
“I c-can’t,” you stammered, feeling a little floaty from everything he was making you feel.
“Mm, I know you can princess, you’ve done it before. You always cum for me, jagi,” he said in your ear, his breath making you shiver as he pressed himself against you, chest flat to your back. He was right about that. If Minho intended for you to cum, you were going to cum.
He lifted one of your legs up, giving himself access to your ruined little pussy yet again. He used his other arm to wrap under your chest, trailing his hand up to push against your sternum, pressing your back to his chest even more.
“What’s your color, jagiya?” he whispered into your ear, a genuine tone of loving concern in his voice. Minho always had fun playing rough with you, but only because you enjoyed it just as much, sometimes even more. He would never want to actually push you past the point you were comfortable, ready to stop the moment you uttered any established safe word.
You hummed at his question, touched by him checking in on you as he so often did when things got more intense than usual. “Bright green, baby,” you whispered out, grin spreading across your face.
He hummed back with a matching grin, kissing your shoulder as he lifted your leg just a little bit higher, easily sliding right back into you. He began slow this time, focusing on long, deep strokes to build you back up slowly. The moment felt tender, getting lost in the feeling of being pressed up next to each other, as close as you could physically be, just wanting the other to feel good. The stress of everything you both had been carrying recently felt like it was melting away more and more with each thrust, each moan, and each searing kiss.
Minho picked up his rhythm, snapping his hips a little bit harder, gradually building intensity. You rolled your head back into his neck, letting out the sweetest ah’s between your parted lips, letting yourself shut off and just feel him. Minho felt like his heart could explode, seeing you give in to him and trust him with yourself so wholly. He would do anything to make you feel even just a fraction of the love he held for you in these vulnerable moments.
A little faster, a little deeper, and your body started to tremble. You reached your arm behind you to hold on to his back, trying to ground yourself as the pleasure started to take over again.
“I got you, jagi, I got you, just let go for me. I’m right here,” Minho softly spoke into your ear, sounding close himself, words coming out a little breathless, his hips losing rhythm ever so slightly. He picked up his pace just a little bit more, feeling himself start to lose it. A sweet moan escaped his lips, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear and neck. You knew your release would push him over the edge, and you wanted to get him there. Making him feel good would almost be more pleasurable than your own high, maybe more. Minho deserves it.
A few more well angled strokes, and you’re reaching the peak again. You let out a breathy whine, clenching around him so tight, and the next thing you hear is his own whine. His deep, loud, yet airy groan fills the room as he fills you with his hot cum, fucking it deep inside as he rides out his high. The overstimulation, his moans and heavy sighs, the knowledge that your boyfriend is falling into pieces because of you, has you climbing right back up the wall for the fourth time tonight.
Minho can feel it, and he’s a little shocked your body still has that much left in you, but he’s not one to complain. He brings the hand still pushing into your sternum up to the front of your neck, adding firm pressure to the sides of your neck with his thumb, middle, and ring fingers (who do you think gave Chan pointers for the Red Lights music video? The man knows how to choke juuuust right). He brings his top leg underneath your thigh he’s holding, hooking it underneath to keep you open. Then he brings that hand to the mound of your cunt, his fingertips flat against your clit as he flicks his wrist in a rapid back-and-forth waving motion.
“Fuuuckkk, oh my g—” you sob out, the intense stimulation causing your already tear-filled eyes to overflow, hot tears falling down your face and dripping onto Minho’s hand around your neck. Any noises you make get stuck in your throat as you lock up, seeing white as blinding pleasure takes hold of your body.
“That’s it jagi, take it just like that,” Minho praises you through your orgasm, keeping your legs from clamping down with his own as he guides you through it. He’s still inside of you, still rubbing your clit, choking you so good that it feels like it’s lasting for way longer than usual, and all of a sudden you feel wet. A weird kind of wet.
Minho lets out a quiet gasp, trying to process what he just saw you do. What he just made you do. Did he just make you squirt?
He slowly starts massaging the soft flesh of your inner thighs, helping you down from the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced. He brings the hand on your neck up to your face, gently caressing your jaw with his thumb, and leaves light, tender kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders.
You lay there, eyes closed, taking in the gentle touches he leaves all over your body as your mind floats somewhere above you. You heard about subspace, read about it, thought you had experienced it before, but never have you felt something quite as intense as this. It was kind of scary if you were being honest, but knowing Minho was right there with you, not leaving your side until you were back in control of yourself, made you feel completely safe.
You’re not sure how much time passes, but you suddenly feel like you’re in your body again, and become aware of Minho’s strong arms wrapped around your middle. You move to turn in his hold, but realize his softened dick is still inside of you.
“Min?” you croak, voice shot to shit after all you just went through.
“Hm?” Minho breathes out, half-asleep, feeling the most relaxed he has in a while.
“Why are you still inside?” you giggle, turning your head to try to look at him.
“I just wanted to be close to you a little longer,” he mumbles into your shoulder, “and I didn’t want to move around too much while you came back down. Are you okay, jagiya? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You slowly remove him from you, hissing at the feeling of emptiness, and the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of you and onto the sheets. You turn in his arms so you can finally see his face again. He looks concerned, yet fucked-out at the same time.
You smile at him, and he mirrors you. “I’m more than okay, Min. You just fucked all the stress out of me. Thanks, babe,” you tease, kissing the tip of his nose, both giggling at the gesture.
“If fighting like that always leads to this, we should really fight more often,” he smirks at you, making you breathe out a soft laugh.
Even with the joking air, you started to feel guilty for your earlier reactions. “Min,” you start, looking at his chest to avoid his eyes. Damn, he has really nice pecs, your mind starts to trail, and you lightly shake your head to snap back to the moment. Gotta stay focused, you thirsty bitch, you scold yourself.
“…you know I didn’t mean any of that earlier, right? I was just frustrated, and I wasn’t thinking. You help me so much, all the time. I mean, the fact you washed that cursed pile of dishes and didn’t even ask for any help was so nice of you. You listen to me, you make me feel seen, and so loved, Minho. You didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.” Tears were starting to spill over again, this time not from pleasure. How could you have said all those things to Minho, your Minho?
Minho places a soft hand on your face, gently using his thumb on your chin to make you look into his eyes. You thought you would see annoyance or disbelief there, staring back at you, but all you could see was love in his beautiful boba eyes.
“Jagiya, don’t beat yourself up over this. I was stressed just as much as you, and I should’ve made sure I heard what you said before you left. Actually, I should’ve left those dishes where they were and went with you. We’ve barely spent any time together. Chores be damned, I’ve missed my girlfriend.”
Another tear escapes your eyes, and Minho is quick to catch it with his thumb. His eyes start becoming glassy, fighting back his own tears. “I love you so much,” he continues, “so, so much. And I appreciate you so much. Every little thing you do for me. Every day. I don’t think I’ve expressed that to you enough. I’d wash a million dishes if it meant showing you just how much you mean to me, Y/N.”
Your heart skips a beat, and you pull his face to yours, kissing each other with a sweet passion, trying to communicate just how much you love one another with every press of your lips.
Pulling back slightly, you smirk, a teasing glint in your eye, “Soooo…does that mean you’ll help me wash these sheets tonight?”
Minho laughs, a big smile crinkling his eyes, his cute bunny teeth on full display.
“Uh uh, you’re the one who squirted all over the sheets, that’s your responsibility!” he jokes, pushing at your arm.
Your mouth drops open in humored shock, and you lightly smack his arm as you exclaim, “You’re the one who made me squirt, you sexy jerk! That’s on you!”
Minho lets out another loud laugh, “Okay, okay, I propose a compromise. How about we get you washed first, then throw the sheets in the wash while we watch that one drama we never finished, make the bed when they’re dry, get some good sleep, and we’ll work on the rest of the laundry tomorrow. Together. How does that sound?”
“I think that’s an acceptable compromise,” you mused, sitting up in bed with a theatric hand to your chin.
“On one condition though,” he adds, propping himself up on one elbow.
“What exactly would that be?” You narrow your eyes at him, bracing yourself for whatever this “condition” could be.
“We stay naked the whole time. You don’t have to worry about dirtying more laundry, and I get to stare at your bare ass all day.”
“Minho!”
You lightly throw a pillow at his face and he catches it, tossing it back at you while pulling you back down to him. You’re both giggling, lightly pushing and pulling at each other, hearts light and filled with a kind of happiness only found in the presence of the other.
In that moment, you find yourself grateful for the giant pile of dirty laundry that started this beautiful mess.
•
•
•
author’s note: this one-shot is inspired by a hard thought I shared with @skzms and @hyungszn, and finally decided I needed to run with it and create my first story post on my blog💜 thank you for your kind words and your own shared thoughts, and thank you to every other creator I’ve interacted on this app! your talent and hard work inspires me✨ and thank you to any one who takes time to read my story. i’d love to hear any feedback🫶
disclaimers: MDNI 18+, will not hesitate to block ageless blogs, so do not interact with my blog you horny gremlins. it’s for your wellbeing, so go outside and touch some grass while the adults keep drowning in their delusions. also, this is a work of fiction and in no way reflects the actual, real-life people these stories are inspired by. any correlation to something in real life is purely coincidental. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE SHARE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION. thx✌️
————————————————————————
if you enjoyed this story, check out my masterlist here <3
