Oh yay another Illit writer!! I need more Illit fics in my life. Could you write something with Minju? Reader and her have been best friends since childhood and they're in that phase where they're def developing feelings for each other but are tip toeing around the issue. The reader is playing it a bit more calm and collected, but she's the one who's a bit nervous and shy about things.
It all comes to a head when she needs a +1 for some fancy party and of course, Minju doesn't know who she could possibly ask except for the reader. He finally gets bold that night, prolonged eye contact, hand around her waist, introducing himself to others as if they're already in a relationship. "If we're gonna play the part, we might as well make it convincing". They share a kiss during a slow dance, and it all unravels from there. They make a quick exit, plenty of sex in the hotel room, confessions of love, exploration of each other, and declarations of things to come.
Pretend
ILLIT’s Minju x Male Reader
4.3k words
I just paused the fic I was working on to get this done ;). I think this will be a great change of pace, and damn am I happy to write some ILLIT! There’s not nearly enough out there. It would be longer but I’m also already working on a long fic… and I just hammered this out in the few hours I have in between classes. I hope you enjoy!
~
You've known Minju since you were seven years old, which means you've had fourteen years to perfect the art of pretending you're not completely in love with your best friend.
It's an art form at this point, really. The way you can listen to her talk about her dates without your jaw clenching. The way you can hug her goodbye without letting your hands linger on the small of her back. The way you can watch her get dressed up for other people and smile like your chest isn't caving in on itself.
But lately, something's been shifting. The hugs last a little longer. Her texts come a little more frequently. She looks at you sometimes like she's trying to figure out a puzzle, her dark eyes searching your face for answers to questions neither of you have been brave enough to ask.
Which is why when she shows up at your apartment on a Thursday evening, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater and avoiding eye contact, you know something's different.
"I need a favor," she says without preamble, perching on the edge of your couch like she might bolt at any moment.
"Okay." You settle into the chair across from her, trying to read her expression. "What kind of favor?"
"The bad kind. The kind where I'm a terrible friend for even asking."
You've never been able to deny Minju anything, and she knows it. It's been your fatal weakness since childhood, when she'd ask you to go hang out at the beach with her past bedtime or sneak extra cookies from your mother's kitchen.
"Just tell me what you need."
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. "My company is having this gala thing next weekend. Really fancy, like stupidly fancy. Everyone's bringing dates and I…" She trails off, cheeks flushing pink. "I don't have anyone to ask."
The words hit you in a way that's probably not entirely rational. Minju is beautiful, funny, successful. The idea that she doesn't have a line of guys waiting to take her anywhere she wants to go is absurd.
"What about that guy from your office? Jake?"
"Jake has a girlfriend now." She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking very small. "And honestly, I don't want to go with some random guy who'll spend the whole night trying to get in my pants. I want to go with someone I trust. Someone who makes me feel safe."
The way she looks at you when she says it makes something warm and dangerous unfurl in your chest.
"So you want me to be your fake date."
"God, when you say it like that it sounds even worse." She covers her face with her hands. "I'm sorry, this is stupid. I shouldn't have asked."
"Minju." You lean forward, gently pulling her hands away from her face. "It's not stupid. Of course I'll go with you."
The relief that floods her features is almost painful to watch. "Really? You don't mind pretending to be my boyfriend for one night?"
The word 'pretending' sits heavy between you, loaded with everything neither of you has been willing to acknowledge.
"I think I can manage that."
She launches herself at you then, wrapping her arms around your neck in a hug that's probably meant to be grateful but feels dangerously close to something else entirely. Her perfume fills your senses, something light and floral that you've been unconsciously associating with home for years.
"Thank you," she whispers against your ear. "I owe you so big for this."
When she pulls back, her face is closer to yours than it needs to be. Close enough that you can count the flecks of gold in her dark eyes, can see the way her lips part slightly as her breathing quickens. For a moment, the air between you crackles with possibility.
Then she's pulling away, that familiar nervous energy returning as she smooths down her sweater.
"I should let you get back to whatever you were doing. The party's Saturday at seven, if that works for you?"
"It works."
She's already heading toward the door, movements quick and jittery. "I'll text you the address and dress code and everything. Thank you again, really. You're the best."
And then she's gone, leaving you alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and the growing realization that Saturday night is either going to be the best or worst mistake of your life.
The next few days pass in a haze of anticipation and anxiety. You rent a tuxedo, get a haircut, try not to think too hard about what it means that you're putting this much effort into a fake date with your best friend.
Saturday arrives with unseasonable warmth for October, the kind of evening that makes the city feel magical and full of possibilities. You're adjusting your tie for the fifth time when Minju texts that she's on her way up, and your heart starts doing something complicated in your chest.
The knock on your door comes exactly seven minutes later. You take a deep breath, check your reflection one last time, and open the door.
The sight of her steals every coherent thought from your head.
She's wearing a pale yellow dress that hugs every curve before flowing out at her hips, the fabric catching the hallway light like water. Her hair is down, and her makeup is more dramatic than usual, big eyes and glossy lips that make you want to do very inadvisable things.
"Wow," you breathe, and immediately feel like an idiot for such an inadequate response.
But Minju's face lights up at the single word, cheeks flushing pink beneath her carefully applied blush.
"You clean up pretty well yourself," she says, reaching out to straighten your already perfect tie. The simple touch sends electricity shooting up your spine.
"Ready for this?"
"No," she admits with a nervous laugh. "But let's go anyway."
The gala is being held at one of the city's most exclusive hotels, the kind of place with marble floors and crystal chandeliers that probably cost more than your annual salary. Minju's company has clearly spared no expense, and you find yourself grateful for the tuxedo as you navigate through crowds of similarly dressed professionals.
"There's my boss," Minju murmurs, nodding toward a distinguished man in his fifties. "I should probably say hello."
She starts to move toward him, but something makes you catch her hand, threading your fingers through hers. The gesture is possessive in a way that surprises you both, but you don't let go.
"Lead the way."
Her boss, Mr. Chen, greets Minju warmly before turning curious eyes to you. This is the moment of truth, you realize. The moment where you either play it safe or commit to the role she's asked you to fill.
"Mr. Chen, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend," Minju says, and there's something in her voice that makes you look at her more closely.
You extend your free hand, keeping the other firmly clasped with Minju's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Minju talks about you all the time."
"All good things, I hope," Mr. Chen chuckles. "How long have you two been together?"
The question hangs in the air between you. This is where you're supposed to laugh and deflect, make some joke about how it feels like forever when you've known someone since childhood.
Instead, you find yourself looking directly into Minju's eyes as you answer.
"Long enough to know she's the most incredible woman I've ever met."
The words come out rougher than intended, loaded with more truth than either of you expected. Minju's pulse quickens noticeably, her grip on your hand tightening.
"That's lovely," Mr. Chen says, but his voice seems to come from very far away. "Well, I'll let you two enjoy the evening. The dancing should start soon."
He moves away, but neither of you notice. You're too busy staring at each other, the pretense of fake dating suddenly feeling very, very real.
"That was…" Minju starts, then trails off, her voice small.
"Convincing?"
"Yeah. Very convincing."
The evening progresses in a blur of introductions and small talk, but you're hyperaware of every moment your skin touches hers. Your hand on the small of her back as you guide her through crowds. Her fingers on your arm when she laughs at something someone says. The way she leans into you when the music gets too loud, her breath warm against your ear.
You're not sure when exactly you stop pretending and start meaning it, but somewhere between the appetizers and the main course, something shifts irreversibly between you.
"You're being very…" she murmurs during a lull in conversation, when you've stepped away from her colleagues for a moment.
"Very what?"
"Protective. Possessive." She looks up at you through her lashes, and there's something new in her expression. Something that makes your mouth go dry. "I like it."
Before you can formulate a response, the lights dim and the band strikes up their first slow song. Couples begin moving toward the dance floor, and you find yourself extending your hand to her without conscious thought.
"Dance with me."
It's not a question, and she doesn't treat it like one. Her hand slides into yours like it belongs there, and you lead her onto the floor among the other swaying couples.
The song is something slow and romantic, the kind of music that's designed to make people fall in love. You pull her close, one hand settling on her waist while the other maintains its grip on her fingers. She follows your lead naturally, like you've been dancing together for years instead of minutes.
"I've never seen you like this," she whispers, tilting her head back to look at you.
"Like what?"
"Confident. In control." Her free hand comes up to rest on your chest, directly over your heart. "It's really working for me."
The admission hangs between you, dangerous and electric. You spin her slowly, drawing her back against your chest before turning her to face you again. When she settles back into your arms, she's closer than before.
"Minju…"
"I know," she breathes. "This isn't pretend anymore, is it?"
"Was it ever?"
The question makes her eyes flutter closed for a moment. When she opens them again, they're dark with want and something deeper, something that makes your chest tight with possibility.
"I've been thinking about you differently lately," she admits in a voice barely above a whisper. "Thinking about us differently."
"How differently?"
Instead of answering with words, she rises up on her toes, closing the distance between your mouths in a kiss that's soft and tentative and absolutely earth-shattering.
For a heartbeat, you're too stunned to respond. This is Minju. Your best friend since childhood, the girl who used to put bandaids on your scraped knees and steal french fries off your plate. The woman who's been the constant in your life for fourteen years, who you've been carefully not kissing for longer than you want to admit.
Then your brain catches up to your heart, and you're kissing her back with fourteen years of pent-up longing.
She tastes like champagne and possibility, like everything you've ever wanted but been too scared to reach for. Her lips are soft and warm, and when she sighs against your mouth you feel something fundamental shift in your universe.
When you finally break apart, you're both breathing hard. The song has ended, but neither of you has stopped moving, swaying together in your own private rhythm.
"We should go," you say, voice rough with want.
"Yes," she agrees immediately. "We should definitely go."
You don't remember saying goodbye to anyone or retrieving your coats. You barely remember the elevator ride to the hotel's upper floors, too focused on the way Minju's hand fits in yours and the promise in her dark eyes.
What you do remember is the way she looks at you when the elevator doors close, like you're something precious and dangerous and entirely hers.
"I got us a room," she says quietly. "Just in case we didn't want to drive home tonight."
The implication makes your blood run hot. "Just in case?"
"I might have been hoping for this outcome," she admits, cheeks flushing. "Is that terrible of me?"
Instead of answering, you back her against the elevator wall, one hand braced beside her head while the other cups her face.
"It would be terrible if you hadn't," you murmur against her lips before kissing her again.
This kiss is different from the one on the dance floor. Hungrier. More desperate. She melts against you with a soft "Mmm" that goes straight to your cock, her hands fisting in the lapels of your tuxedo jacket.
The elevator dings softly as it reaches your floor, and you reluctantly pull away. Her lips are swollen from your kisses, her carefully styled hair slightly mussed, and she's never looked more beautiful.
"Room 2847," she breathes, fumbling in her clutch for the key card.
The walk down the hallway feels endless, anticipation crackling between you like electricity. When she finally gets the door open, you follow her inside and immediately forget how to breathe.
The room is gorgeous, all soft lighting and elegant furnishings, with floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase the city skyline. But you only have eyes for Minju, who's standing by the window looking like something out of a dream.
"Are you sure about this?" you ask, because despite everything that's led to this moment, you need to hear her say it.
She turns to face you fully, and there's no hesitation in her expression.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
The words break whatever was left of your restraint. You cross the room in three strides, pulling her into your arms and kissing her like she's oxygen and you've been drowning.
She responds immediately, arms winding around your neck as she presses herself against you. You can feel every curve of her body through the thin fabric of her dress, can smell her perfume and taste the champagne on her tongue.
"I've wanted this for so long," she whispers against your mouth between kisses. "Wanted you for so long."
"How long?" you ask, hands skimming down her sides to rest on her hips.
"Years," she admits. "Maybe since we were teenagers. I just never thought… never imagined you might want me too."
The confession makes something fierce and possessive roar to life in your chest. You back her toward the bed, hands never leaving her body.
"I've been in love with you since I was sixteen years old," you tell her, the truth spilling out like a dam has burst. "Maybe longer. I just never thought I was good enough for you."
"What?" She pulls back to stare at you, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you insane? You're the most incredible man I know. You're kind and funny and brilliant, and you've been there for me through everything. How could you think you're not good enough?"
Instead of answering with words, you show her. Your mouth finds her throat, pressing kisses along the column of her neck that make her shiver and arch against you. Your hands map the curves you've been imagining touching for years, reverent and desperate in equal measure.
"Oh," she gasps when you find that sensitive spot just below her ear. "That feels so good."
"I want to make you feel good," you murmur against her skin. "Want to make you feel incredible."
Your hands find the zipper at the back of her dress, and you pause with your fingers on the pull.
"Can I?"
"Please," she breathes. "I want you to see me. All of me."
You draw the zipper down slowly, savoring the way more of her skin is revealed with each inch. When the dress finally pools at her feet, you have to step back just to take her in.
She's wearing black lace lingerie that showcases every curve, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. Her breasts strain against the delicate cups of her bra, and you can see her nipples clearly through the sheer fabric. The matching panties sit low on her hips, and the sight of so much exposed skin makes your cock throb painfully against your pants.
“A matching set,” you murmur, “You were planning on this?”
“Hoping,” comes her reply, a mix of bashfulness and a hint of something darker coloring her voice.
"You're so beautiful," you say, voice rough with want. "So fucking perfect."
She reaches for your jacket, sliding it off your shoulders with hands that shake slightly. "Your turn."
You help her with your clothes, both of you fumbling slightly in your eagerness. When you're finally naked, she takes a step back to look at you properly.
"Wow," she breathes, eyes raking over your body appreciatively. "I mean, I always wondered, but… wow."
Her gaze settles on your erection, and she bites her lower lip in a way that makes you want to kiss her senseless.
"Like what you see?"
"Very much," she admits, reaching out to trace one finger down your chest. "Can I touch you?"
"God, yes."
Her hands explore your body with the same reverence you showed hers, mapping muscles and scars with gentle fingers. When she wraps her hand around your cock, you nearly buckle at the sensation.
"You're so hard," she whispers, stroking you slowly. "Is this all for me?"
"All for you," you confirm, hips bucking into her touch. "Always for you."
She smiles at that, a beautiful, satisfied expression that makes your heart race. Then she's guiding you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed, and you're falling together onto the soft mattress.
You roll until she's beneath you, hair spread across the pillow like a dark halo. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and you can see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat.
"Are you nervous?" you ask softly.
"A little," she admits. "It's just… this changes everything, doesn't it? After tonight, we can't go back to being just friends."
"Do you want to go back?"
"No,"* she says immediately. *"I never want to go back. I want to go forward. With you."
The words make your chest tight with emotion. You lean down to kiss her, pouring fourteen years of love and longing into the contact. She responds eagerly, hands tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer.
You kiss your way down her throat, pausing to lavish attention on the sensitive spots that make her gasp and arch beneath you. When you reach the swell of her breasts above her bra, you look up at her questioningly.
"Please," she whispers. "I need to feel your mouth on me."
You unhook her bra with steady hands, drawing it away to reveal her breasts fully. They're perfect, pale and soft with rosy nipples that are already hard with arousal.
"Beautiful," you murmur before taking one nipple into your mouth.
"Ahhh~" she cries, back arching off the bed. "Yes, just like that."
You work her over thoroughly, alternating between her breasts until she's writhing beneath you. Her hands fist in the sheets, and the sounds she's making are driving you crazy with want.
"More," she gasps. "Please, I need more."
You kiss your way down her body, pausing to trace patterns on the soft skin of her stomach with your tongue. When you reach the waistband of her panties, you hook your fingers in the elastic and look up at her.
"Can I taste you?"
"Oh god, yes," she breathes. "I've dreamed about your mouth on me."
You pull her panties down slowly, revealing her completely to your hungry gaze. She's perfectly groomed, pink, puffy lips slightly spread and glistening with arousal, and the sight makes your mouth water.
"So pretty," you murmur, settling between her thighs. "I bet you taste incredible."
"Find out," she challenges breathlessly.
You don't need to be told twice. Your first taste of her is like a revelation, sweet and musky and uniquely her. She cries out at the contact, hips bucking toward your mouth.
"Oh fuck~" she sobs as you work her over with lips and tongue. "That feels so good. So fucking good."
You take your time exploring her, learning what makes her gasp and what makes her scream. When you find her clit and suck gently, she nearly levitates off the bed.
"Right there~" she wails. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
You work her higher and higher, until she's trembling on the edge of release. Then you slide two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that spot that makes her see stars.
"I'm gonna come~" she gasps, hands fisting in your hair. "Fuck, I'm gonna come so hard."
"Come for me," you murmur against her clit. "Let me hear you."
Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, her whole body convulsing as she screams your name. Her walls flutter around your fingers, trying to pull you deeper, and the sight of her completely lost in pleasure makes your cock throb with need.
"Holy shit," she pants as she comes down, limbs trembling with aftershocks. "I can't believe we waited this long to do that."
"We're not done yet," you inform her, kissing your way back up her body.
"Good," she breathes, pulling your mouth to hers for a kiss that tastes like her arousal. "I want you inside me. Want to feel you everywhere."
You line yourself up with her entrance, the head of your cock sliding through her wetness. You're both breathing hard, the anticipation almost unbearable.
"I love you," you say, because you need her to know before this changes everything between you.
"I love you too," she whispers, hands cupping your face. "I've loved you for so long."
You push into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to your size. She's incredibly tight and wet, her walls stretching to accommodate you, and the sensation is overwhelming.
"Fuck~" she gasps, nails digging into your shoulders. "You're so big. Feel so good inside me."
When you're fully seated, you pause to let you both adjust. The feeling of being joined with her like this is indescribable, like every missing piece of yourself has finally clicked into place.
"You okay?" you ask softly.
"Perfect," she sighs. "You feel perfect. Move, please. I need you to move."
You start slow, pulling almost completely out before pushing back in with steady, deep strokes. Each movement draws soft moans from her throat, and the way she's looking at you – like you hung the stars – makes your chest tight with emotion.
"I love you," she gasps between thrusts. "Love you so much. Have loved you for so long."
"Show me," you breathe, increasing your pace slightly. "Show me how much."
She meets your rhythm eagerly, hips rising to take you deeper. Her legs wrap around your waist, ankles locking behind your back to pull you closer.
"Harder," she demands. "I'm not going to break."
You give her what she wants, driving into her with more force. The bed creaks beneath you, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with your combined moans and gasps.
"Yes~" she cries. "Just like that. Fuck me like you mean it."
"I do mean it," you growl, changing angles to hit that spot inside her that makes her scream. "Mean every fucking stroke."
"Oh god~" she wails, completely lost now. "Right there. Don't stop, don't ever stop."
You can feel your own orgasm building, but you're determined to make her come again first. You reach between your bodies to find her clit, rubbing in tight circles that have her seeing stars.
"I'm close~" she gasps. "So fucking close."
"Come with me," you command, feeling your control slipping. "Want to feel you come on my cock."
The combination of your words and your fingers pushes her over the edge spectacularly.
"FUCK~" she screams, her whole body convulsing as her second orgasm crashes over her. "Yes yes yes~"
Her walls clamp down around you like a vice, pulsing rhythmically, and the sensation triggers your own release. With a groan that's torn from somewhere deep in your chest, you bury yourself as deep as possible and let go.
Your orgasm hits like lightning, wave after wave of pleasure as you fill her with everything you have. She holds you through it, whispering words of love and encouragement in your ear.
When it's over, you collapse beside her, both of you breathing hard and trembling with aftershocks. She immediately curls into your side, head on your chest and one leg thrown over yours.
"That was incredible," she sighs contentedly. "Even better than I imagined."
"You imagined it?"
"All the time," she admits with a laugh. "Especially lately. I was starting to think I was going crazy with wanting you."
You press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with sweat and sex.
"So what happens now?" you ask.
She lifts her head to look at you, eyes bright with happiness and possibility.
"Now we stop pretending," she says simply. "Now we stop being scared of ruining our friendship and start building something better."
"What if we're terrible at being more than friends?"
"Then we'll figure it out together," she says, leaning up to kiss you softly. "But I don't think we will be. I think we're going to be amazing."
Looking into her eyes, seeing the love and trust and absolute certainty there, you realize she's probably right. You've been best friends for fifteen years, which means you already know how to communicate, how to support each other, how to weather storms together.
The only thing that's changed is that now you get to kiss her whenever you want.
"I love you," she whispers against your lips. "My best friend. My boyfriend. My everything."
"I love you too," you reply, pulling her closer. "Always have. Always will."
Outside the windows, the city sparkles with a million lights, but neither of you notice. You're too busy planning a future that finally includes everything you've both been too scared to hope for. ~ Sometimes it’s nice when someone reminds me I can write sweet things instead of sin in written form. Thank you for the prompt :D