An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
How could somebody put a giant slit across the front of your shirt and expect me not to think about tearing it clean off your body?”
Minho laughed, his eyes sparkling like they were reflecting the flecks of glitter woven through the material of the garment. “I thought you liked the shirt?”
“I do! I just like imagining ripping it apart with my bare hands…”
...
OR Jisung can’t tear Minho’s shirt off, so he makes the most of him wearing it instead.



















