SFW Thominho Week 2026 Prompts here
Text under the cut
ao3 collection here
NSFW Thominho Week 2026.
June 14th - June 20th
Posts will be reblogged from June 14th - June 24th
The shared ao3 collection will open on May 15th
All creative mediums are welcome!
Gen AI is not.
Prompts can be combined with each other and other events
Tagging:
Please tag your works with:
thominho week 2026
The prompt you're using
alt for the alternate prompts
nsfw for the nsfw prompts
Trigger warnings, if any
Any additional tags
Prompts:
June 14th: Overstimulation
June 15th: Humiliation Kink
June 16th: Wax Play
June 17th: Bulging
June 18th: Orgasm Denial
June 19th: Coming Untouched
June 20th: Mutual Non-Con
A shower together is the perfect way to end a day.
Anal, slight praise
509 words
One thought and one thought alone was going through Minho's mind.
He should have agreed to be the one being fucked so much sooner.
Thomas knew exactly what he was doing as he thrusted in and out. Sweat fell down his toned body, his strong arms trembling as he held himself up. Precum dripped from his tip at each penetration, his quiet groans echoing around the room. The freckled boy’s hands gripped his waist, a subtle control that turned him on more. He had never felt more pleased to do something, to have something done to him.
“That's it. Just like that,”he praised, adoring the way he felt around him. His face flushed at the words, his mouth dropping open in a silent moan. With his eyes rolling back, his heart fluttering in his chest, he reached his high. The thick cream tainted his flawless skin, a mess on himself that he wasn't used to.
“So how was that one time thing?”he teased as he pulled out. Minho rolled his eyes to recover some of his dominance in the relationship, though that didn't mean much when he was struggling to even move his pupils.
“How about a one time shower?”he shot back, managing to stand.
“Not your best wordplay,”he had to inform him, giving a fake innocent smile. With his recovering strength, he grabbed his arm, pulling him out of bed. Lacing their hands together, Thomas got in front, leading him to the bathroom while dangling a round two in front of his face. Squeezing through the doorway, they stepped into the open shower, closing the glass door to lock them in. Being willing to suffer for once, Thomas turned on the shower to a freezing cold temperature that his lover insisted was perfect and wouldn't burn his skin off.
“Looks like you're stuck with me now,”he smirked, daring to lean against the wall instead of him.
“Yoh can at least pretend you're okay with that,”he played, wrapping his arms around his shoulders anyway. While the steam submerged them, droplets falling down their bodies, the trackstar connected their lips, a hand under his chin to angle his face closer. When his lover immersed himself into it, trying to deepen it, he pulled away.
“Wow. I’m not even a worth a kiss after that?”
“Sorry. This is all just moving a bit too fast for me,”he sighed, remorsefully shaking his head.
“I just fucked you!”he exclaimed, slapping his shoulder in the cramped space. Easily catching his wrist, he pulled Thomas right back in his clutches, squeezing his arm. All the air seemed to leave his lungs, which wasn't made any better by his wet hair blurring his vision.
Leaning forward again, Minho brushed their lips together again, slower this time. Gripping his waist, he carefully moved forward on the wet floor, pressing their bodies together. While there was still the concern of a scorching drought right outside their window, they were safe in here, where they could lovingly kiss in the rain.
Written for Thominho NSFW Week 2026 (@thominho-week-2026)
This is sadly my only contribution to Thominho Week this year, as I've not been able to write for quite some times. This fic healed something in my writing practice I feel like, as it was surprisingly easy to write it, but I want to use this renewed energy to fully start a fanfic project I've been wanting to write for years now.
Summary:
Minho and Thomas escape the Friday Bonfire, a tradition of Paradise, to have their own fun together, just the two of them in their little cabin.
Prompts used: Overstimulation and Coming Untouched
Dom Minho x sub Thomas, blow job, anal, collar, leash, daddy kink, bounds, slight degrading
1,194 words
Thomas thought nothing as he laughed at Aris’s joke. It was more of a pity laugh than anything, an attempt to be sensitive. Especially today. It would be kind of a dick move to criticize his bad humor the day of his best friend's death.
Aris knew it was far from comedy of course. His attempt of normalcy hadn't been very successful lately. While he appreciated Thomas’s and everyone's sensitivity, he was stuck in a state of being pissed off that people were walking on eggshells and knowing what would happen if someone said just one negative thing.
That didn't stop Minho from glaring at the completely innocent sight. Survivor’s guilt wasn't enough to take away his possessiveness, and he didn't plan on letting that be untrue.
When Thomas had the nerve to nod to something he said, he decided that he had enough. His walk was calm, but his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes said plenty.
Somehow Thomas was oblivious enough to smile. Aris chose life instead, making an excuse to leave. He had lived enough to know that whatever was about to happen wasn't something he wanted to be involved in.
He was essentially dragged through the Safe Haven while questioning why. It was something only he could do. Everything he did turned Minho on, which was not going to end well for him tonight. The calm sun was basically begging for this to happen, and he already knew his boyfriend wouldn't mind.
“What’s this ab-”he started to ask when the door was shut behind him. He quickly closed his mouth when his favorite thing was pulled out. The collar had essentially turned him into Pavlov's dog. He knew what followed, and he didn't know how to turn it down.
“I don't know why you still have clothes on,”he reminded him, taking off his shirt. His muscles flexed, his biceps pulling the sub into a trance where he had no choice but to obey. He stripped right in front of the door, his cock growing harder at every movement.
“Well. Maybe you can keep one,”he promised, adjusting the collar around his neck. He put his head up, letting him fix the black leather around him. There was a small M on the front, a sign of who he belonged to. The leash was already attached, leaving him absolutely vulnerable.
“Crawl to me. Now,”he ordered, pulling on the leash. With no choice but to listen, Thomas followed on his hands and knees. The hardwood was rough on his knees, though he knew better than to complain right now. His face flushed as he was suddenly being controlled, his stubborn nature left at the door.
Taking him to their bedroom, he dropped the leash as he closed the door out of habit. Sitting there, he watched his long cock be out for him, his tip already dripping with precum.
“Get over here,”he ordered, firmly tugging on the leash. Grabbing a fistful of his hair with his free hand, he taunted his cock in front of the sub’s face. Opening his mouth, he begged for it inside of him, going so far as to stick his tongue out.
“So you do know how to listen, huh?”he taunted, grabbing himself. While wrapping the leash around his hand, he slapped his cock on his cheek, painting his face with cum. Moving his neck, he desperately tried to start sucking.
“Such a pathetic thing you,”he cooed. Then, giving him what he asked for, he shoved his entire cock down his throat. He gagged at the mistake of begging, eyes already watering at the thick dick. Minho was ruthless, pulling out and slamming back in, enjoying the wet mouth. He groaned each time, looking up with needy eyes.
“That's right. You're gonna take it. I’m going to make you take it,”he promised, shoving his entire dick inside of him. When he squirmed, unconsciously trying to pull back to breathe, he grabbed the back of his head, forcing his face to his stomach. Throwing his head back, he closed his eyes as he took the back of his neck, making him swallow. Tears fell down his cheeks as he coughed, his cheeks hollowed around him. Only growing more turned on by the sounds, he exploded in his mouth, thick cum filling his mouth. He tried to get it all, forcing it down his throat, which only vibrated his cock. Still, he was nice enough to pull out, letting the juices fall down his chin.
“That’s right. That's my cum in your throat that you can't even take.”
“I-I can, daddy. I can take you,”he promised, practically pleading for more.
“Prove it. Stand up.”
He obeyed, getting on his feet. When he was ordered to turn around and put his hands behind his back, he did while trying to ignore his dripping cock.
Minho could tie him up in his sleep, much less simply trap his wrists together. Then again, sometimes less is more. A leash and some ropes was plenty to leave Thomas a mess that forgot anyone else's name.
Seeing as he was hopelessly trapped over the bed, Minho easily thrust into his ass. He already moaned at the sensation, his back arching against the mattress. His fingers locked together in an unconscious attempt to move more, his hole clenching around the thick cock that was buried inside of him.
“You like it, don't you? Like the way I bend you over and fuck you,”he grunted, increasing his pace to something ruthless. Thomas could only moan in pleasure, his face hidden in the mattress.
“I asked you a question,”he said firmly, pulling him up by his collar. He managed a weak, “yes daddy” while his vision blurred at the intense pleasure. His mouth was caught open in a groan, his eyes rolling back to his head. He was reaching a climax that was already explosive, his hands balling the sheets in preparation.
Dropping the leash, he let him fall on the mattress while he pummeled into him. Firmly holding his waist, he dug his nails into him as his thrusts grew sloppier and sloppier. Thomas felt the cock twitch inside of him, a gradual wetness that was filling him up.
With another deep penetration, his breath trembled as he finally broke. Cum dripped down his thighs, making his face flush even worse. He was stuck in a state of ecstasy, a toe curling high that left his mind wiped blank.
“That's it. Just like that,”he praised, ruffling his hair as he pulled out. Hiding his smile, he bit the blankets under him while actively seizing.
Thomas thought nothing of going back outside when he recovered an hour later. He didn't even bother to look in the mirror, and Minho sure wasn't going to point it out.
Aris liked minding his business. That was just a bit more difficult after hearing your friend moan daddy and show up with an obvious collar bruise on his neck and red lines on his wrists like nothing happened. Then again, he could only guess that was Minho's goal.
Dom Minho x sub Thomas, anal, blowjob, degrading, voyeurism, public sex, humiliation kink
1,315 words
Now that he was here, he wasn't sure this was even close to a good idea. Unfortunately, he never quite knew when to shut his mouth. Sometimes it was incredibly useful, and sometimes it left his face burning as his lover whispered in his ear. In his tux that was meant for classy events, he tried to pretend everything was fine as Minho's hand secretly caressed his thigh under the table.
“You probably want all these people to watch you be fucked, don't you? You want them to watch you take it?”
He did his best to pretend nothing was wrong while his fingers gripped the chair. His face flushed as his pants grew tighter. Placing his hands on his lap, he did his best to hide his growing arousal.
“Yeah. You want me to bend you over this table and fuck you. You want it in front of everyone,”he whispered in his ear. An innocent smile was on his face the entire time, even as someone sat beside them. While starting a conversation neither of them cared about, he firmly grabbed the sub’s pants, palming his hard cock. He barely managed to hold back a moan, though he still thrust into the fist. It was downright pathetic, just the way he wanted.
Minho was still talking, still pretending to care. While keeping up the facade, he started slowly caressing him through his pants. He whimpered, unconsciously thrusting into his hands again, before barely catching himself.
Unable to handle it, he stood. Covering himself as best he could, he hurried to the bathroom. Sitting back, the dom smirked at the desperation. When he watched him go down the hall, he finally excused himself. He was completely calm, completely in control the way his Thomas just loved.
He opened the door to see him standing there. His face was flushed as he was caught trying to hide away in the stall. His Bambi eyes were so falsely innocent, like he didn't have the ability to be a complete and utter brat when he wanted.
Grabbing his arm, Minho quickly bent him over the sink. He barely caught himself, though that was the least of his worries.
“You didn't lock the door. Minho, you didn't lock the door,”he repeated.
“Hm. That's weird,”he said simply, unzipping his pants. Thomas tensed at the sound, snapping his head back to ask what he was doing. Tsking in disapproval, he grabbed his head, carefully laying him on the cold counter.
“Someone's gonna walk in. They're gonna walk in-”
“And what? See you getting fucked?”
His cheeks warmed, but he didn't have time to pay attention when his pants were pulled down, his boxers quickly following. His hard cock was already dripping, showing off how ready he was.
“See? You don't mind.”
“It's a bad-fu-hmf,”he barely caught himself, biting his lip as Minho slammed into him. His spine arched at the sudden pleasure, his eyes closing as the world drifted away into something better. He was vaguely away they were one bad bladder away from ending up in court, but it slipped away more and more as he adjusted. He was clinging to the sink like his life depended on it, his toes curling in his shoes.
“You just loved behind fucked, don't you? Is this all you think about, you dirty whore?”he groaned, gripping his hair. A moan escaped his lips as Minho's chest pressed against his back. Each brutal thrust twisted the fingers harder, drawing tears from his eyes.
“You're already trying to get us caught,”he taunted, wrapping a hand around his throat. When he leaned his head back, consequently pushing his dick against the cold counter, he sunk his teeth into the cool skin. Thomas whimpered as marks were already being left in his skin. He didn't even bother to add them somewhere it could be hidden. This was his man, and everyone would know it.
“Take it. Take it now,”he demanded, pushing on his back, bending him over. His hands found their way to the mirror as he grew closer and closer. He seemed to grow tighter at each penetration, a feeling Minho would be just fine dying in.
As he twitched inside of him, his own high so close, he gripped his hips as he increased his pace. His fingers were slipping down the glass as his panting became more audible.
When his eyes opened, he found himself staring at that dominant face through the mirror. His heart stopped as it was clearly noticed. Minho’s face was as harsh as his movements, causing his hips to snap forward each time. His ears turned a deep red as he found himself barely able to breathe. He felt like he was elevating to another plane of existence, one that was just him and his lover.
With another deep thrust, his eyes rolled back as he reached his climax. He didn't even register that the poor sink had been violated as cum fell from his abused hole.
“You really made quite a mess,”he tsked, calmly pulling out. Still broken from the less than appropriate activities, he laid over the sink while panting. Sweat fell down his bitten neck while his stomach was twisting in knots as he was left helplessly exposed.
“Fine. I guess I’ll be nice,”he sighed, adjusting his pants where they belonged. When they were lazily zipped, he finally managed to stand straight as his legs worked again.
“I believe we have somewhere to be,”he sang, grabbing his tie. He had no choice but to blindly follow out of the still unlocked bathroom. The way he looked at the tall boy was so full of absolute awe. The fact that he was being guided around a corner added a perfect glint of need.
When they were under a staircase, his hair was in his strong fist as he was forced on his knees. When he let out a moan, he pulls his pants down with one hand and shoved his cock inside. The sub gagged on the long cock, his eyes watering as his tip hit the back of his throat. He was still a beautiful mess, sucking happily on the thick dick. He looked absolutely pathetic, his head being controlled and body screaming obedience.
“You better take it,”he ordered anyway, ruthlessly thrusting into his mouth. He did his best to keep up, holding his waist for stability as he bobbed his head. The hold on his hair tightened, making him whimper. He was trying to do as he was told, to please Minho like a brainless mutt.
“Gonna cum. Gonna cum in that stupid throat,”he grunted, forcing his face to his stomach. He barely managed to swallow, though there wasn't really much of a choice. His own cock was throbbing in need yet again, begging to be played with.
As amazing as the warm mouth was, he pulled his cock past his lips at the last second. Holding his dick, he positioned himself all over his face. The brunette didn't even have time to shut his mouth before he was being covered in thick white cream. Proving he wanted more, he stuck his tongue out. Gripping himself, he gave a few lazy pumps to make sure he was ruined.
“Right. I think we’re done here,”he said simply, zipping up his pants. When he went to wipe his face, he lightly smacked his hand away. He didn't have to say a word for the order to be clear.
Leave it.
“We’re going home,”he explained, running a hand through his hair. When he turned around, Thomas stood, cum still dripping on his face. With an expression he should hate much, much more, he kept his head down as he followed him out of the party.
Thomas's rough day ends with a different kind of pain.
Dom Minho x sub Thomas, fingering, anal, handjob, blow job, overstimulation, hair pulling kink, degrading, praise, dacryphilia, spanking
1,961 words
Thomas could safely say he was fed up with the day. His body ached in ways he didn't know it could ache. The Safe Haven had done everything to beat down on him until he was almost sure death would be a better alternative.
Collapsing on the bed, he stared blankly at the ceiling. Letting out a deep sigh, he tried to just be thankful today was over. On the bright side, he could do it all over again tomorrow.
Standing in the doorway, Minho watched his poor boyfriend look defeated yet again. The stress seemed to be physically building up, leaving him grouchy and unable to sleep. It was a feeling he understood all too well and a feeling he knew how to make better.
“You look like you had a great day.”
Thomas grunted in response before lazily lifting his head. His hair hung in front of his eyes while his pink lips were parted. It was a perfect sight, one he intended to take full advantage of.
“I guess I’ll have to fix it up.”
Thomas swallowed thickly at the lustful voice, his face flushing. He understood what was being said instantly, something he hadn’t even realized he missed. His stomach churned, a feeling that went strangely well with his needy cock. It got worse the closer Minho got, heart pounding violently in his chest.
“Take your clothes off.”
He listened practically on instinct. It was engraved in him to follow Minho's directions, to only disobey when he was looking for an excuse to be punished. He undressed as though he was under some sort of spell, discarding the fabric covering his body until he was finally fully exposed.
Those dark lustful eyes looked him up and down, biting his lip at the sight. He was fully hard, his cock dripping down his thighs. His days of running left him beautifully toned, beautifully perfect for him to use.
“Put that dirty mouth of yours to work,”he ordered, unzipping his jeans. Pulling his boxers to his ankles, he stood there, watching Thomas fall to his knees with the bed behind him. His mouth opened like it was made to take his dick, mouth wide and stretched.
Gripping his hair, he slowly put his tip past his lips. He was thick, long, able to destroy him without even trying. He watched Thomas's back arch against the mattress, practically suffocating as he was shoved between the bed and the cock devouring his throat.
Grabbing a fistful of the brown strands, he gave in, slamming his dick down his throat. The freckled boy gagged, his eyes watering as Minho pushed into his mouth. He groaned at the feeling of his tongue being forced under him, his cheeks hollowing as he gripped his hips for something to hold. The feeling of the harsh fingers in his hair made his eyes water even more, his whimpers muffled yet full of vibrations.
“That's what you wanted? Huh? For me to destroy your dirty mouth? To make you take it?”
His nails dug into his skin at the harsh words, his own cock throbbing in need. His cheeks flushed red as Minho grew closer and closer, his thrusts sloppier but just as rough. Biting his lip, he took pleasure in the coughing and gagging as his lover desperately tried to keep up.
“You have no idea how pathetic it is, do you? Watching a strong pretty boy fall to his knees? Watching someone so mouthy finally stop talking?”
His eyes rolled back at the sounds, his grip tightening. Ensuring he would take it, he put both hands in his hair, forcing his head against the mattress as he shoved all of him inside. When Thomas squirmed as he forgot he could breathe through his nose, instinctively pulling back, Minho's legs were completely against his face. Throwing his head back, he finished inside his mouth. The overpowered boy swallowed as much of the thick salty liquids as he could. The hair pulling, the grunts, the everything made him groan in need despite spit and cum dribbling down his mouth.
“That's it. That's a good boy,”he praised, slowly pulling out. As soon as Thomas slightly relaxed, he thrust back inside, listening to him let out a muffled groan. Letting out a deep breath, he pulled out, letting go of a dazed Thomas.
“You’re going to need this. All of this,”he hummed, trailing his fingers along his face, collecting the liquids. Seeing as Thomas was panting, he pushed his fingers inside, collecting his spit.
“Bend over. Let me see that fucked out hole,”he ordered.
He did as he was told, gripping the sheets. With his spit and cum covered fingers, he pushed one inside. Thomas already groaned, making Minho smirk.
“You’ll be fine. You can take it,”he promised, prying another finger inside. The brunette whimpered, his back arching, ass sticking out. He felt his hole be stretched out as two digits scissored inside him, preparing for something much bigger. His cock was already hard, his tip dripping with precum. His mouth was half open, cum still sticking to his throat.
When Thomas moaned, he added a third finger. The choked sob he let out was everything. The tears that were already falling from his eyes only made him harder. His fingers curled back and forth, his ass getting used to the feeling.
“You ready for me?”he hummed, pulling out.
“Yes sir.”
He grabbed a fistful of his hair, tangling his fingers in it. Then, already knowing his boyfriend was going to get them another noise complaint, he shoved his face into the mattress as he slammed into him.
He was right to do so as he let out a muffled scream, his tears staining the mattress. Grabbing his wrists, he pinned them above his head as he thrusted into him, his chest pressed against his back. He sobbed as his prostate was assaulted, the long thick cock already pushing his limits. He moaned at the feeling of the hole that swallowed him, urging him inside. The sounds of skin on skin and desperate moans echoed around the walls. The hands in his hair grew harsher, making him groan louder. His cock was caught between his thighs, cum dripping down his legs.
“That's it. Take it, whore. Shut that pretty mouth, and take it,”he groaned, going faster and faster. He whimpered at the words, clenching around his boyfriend, dick throbbing as he was right there. He twitched inside of him, feeling pure pleasure at his boyfriend's ass. With his hands becoming harsher, he dropped his head as he finished inside of him. Thomas let out a whimper, hands clenching the sheets, sweat dripping down his body, as he Minho gave a few more hard thrusts. His face flushed as he finished, cum dripping down his legs. Pulling out, he let go and admired his own liquids that fell out of his abused hole.
“You sure do know how to take it, don't you? How to make me feel so, so good,”he hummed, grabbing his face in his hands. Kneeling over him on the bed, he forced his lips against his, a harsh kiss that made Thomas groan. Shoving his tongue in his mouth, he tasted the cum still in his mouth along with that sweet, sweet spit. Thomas could still feel the hard dick on his back, dripping down his skin.
“I’m gonna fuck you, okay? Gonna fuck you again,”he mumbled, caressing his face as he pulled away.
“Please?”
He pressed another kiss to his forehead before getting off of him. Then, with a demanding voice that made Thomas shiver, he ordered him on his hands and knees.
He was quick to kneel over him, his hands separating his swollen ass. When Thomas whimpered in embarrassment, burying his face in his arms, he grabbed his hair, forcing his head up.
“I said hands and knees.”
Then, with a grunt, he pounded inside of him. Thomas managed to bite his lip, muffling a scream as he was fucked again. His hands held his waist, his nails digging into his flesh as he kept making his way inside. His hole was nice and slick, a heavenly thing for him to fuck. His mouth opened in a moan as he thrust in and out, admiring the way his boyfriend's body lurched each time he pushed into him.
“Gooood. Good boy, take it. Take it inside you,”he groaned, pulling his hair and grabbing his stomach, forcing his back against his chest. Before he could scream, he slapped his palm over his mouth as he grabbed his cock, pumping him. With pretty tears running down his face, he clenched as he was right there. Burying his face in his neck, he sucked and nibbled, leaving possessive hickeys. With his eyes rolling back, thighs trembling, he came in Minho’s hand, liquids splurging from his cock.
He moved slowly, teasingly thrusting in and out. His fingers circled his tip before traveling down, teasingly squeezing. Grabbing his throat, he felt his breath hitch as he kissed his bare skin.
“Gonna make you all mine. Gonna make it all better,”he promised. Then, with the roughness of a Griever, he shoved him on his stomach. Grabbing his hands, he pinned them behind his back as he eagerly fucked him, thrusting in and out. He kept playing with his dick, pumping him from tip to base. The freckled boy's cries were muffled as his face was stuck in the mattress. When Minho’s nails dug into his wrists as he controlled him, he whimpered, squirming against him. Throwing his head back, he grabbed his waist as he forced him closer. With his hands on his cock, he felt him keep dripping, slick and thick liquids that made him smirk. It was quickly interrupted by his groan as he was so close again, his cock pleasured by the warm hole. As his hands clenched into fists, he gripped his hair, forcing his face deeper into the blankets. With a loud grunt, he came in his ass. Holding himself still, he watched Thomas go limp as he finished on the sheets, spilling down his skin.
“You're such a dirty thing. You know that?”he hummed, pulling out. He was still whimpering and crying, breathing heavily as he was close to spasming. His face burned as he felt Minho admire the cum he was filled with, thick white that stuck to him.
“My dumb little toy, huh?”he mumbled. Then, with no mercy, he spanked his sore ass, leaving his handprint on his skin. Collapsing on the bed, his back arched against his will, inviting another harsh smack. Biting the bed, he groaned as his skin stung from the palm dominating him. He barely felt conscious at the pleasurable pain. When he was given another hard hit, he cried out, holding the sheets as he sat up.
Taking control, he shoved him against the bed and slammed himself inside his sore hole, railing into him. Covering his mouth, he groaned at his inability to move, to do anything but put his hand up if he wanted him to stop.
“Worthless. Worthless for anything but this,”he promised, his arm wrapping around his throat. He could only breathe heavily, his eyes rolling back as he was fucked senseless.
“But you're good at it. So. So. Good.”
The small cry was everything. It was proof the world was stripped away of anything but this, but his body being taken until he couldn't move. Every bad day was erased, replaced by something so much bigger than them.
“And that's why I’m gonna fuck you, Thomas. That's why I’m gonna fuck you, and I’m not going to stop.”
SFW Thominho Week 2026 Prompts here
Text under the cut
ao3 collection here
NSFW Thominho Week 2026.
June 14th - June 20th
Posts will be reblogged from June 14th - June 24th
The shared ao3 collection will open on May 15th
All creative mediums are welcome!
Gen AI is not.
Prompts can be combined with each other and other events
Tagging:
Please tag your works with:
thominho week 2026
The prompt you're using
alt for the alternate prompts
nsfw for the nsfw prompts
Trigger warnings, if any
Any additional tags
Prompts:
June 14th: Overstimulation
June 15th: Humiliation Kink
June 16th: Wax Play
June 17th: Bulging
June 18th: Orgasm Denial
June 19th: Coming Untouched
June 20th: Mutual Non-Con
SFW Thominho Week 2026 Prompts here
Text under the cut
NSFW Thominho Week 2026.
June 14th - June 20th
Posts will be reblogged from June 14th - June 24th
The shared ao3 collection will open on May 15th
All creative mediums are welcome!
Gen AI is not.
Prompts can be combined with each other and other events
Tagging:
Please tag your works with:
thominho week 2026
The prompt you're using
alt for the alternate prompts
nsfw for the nsfw prompts
Trigger warnings, if any
Any additional tags
Prompts:
June 14th: Overstimulation
June 15th: Humiliation Kink
June 16th: Wax Play
June 17th: Bulging
June 18th: Orgasm Denial
June 19th: Coming Untouched
June 20th: Mutual Non-Con
SFW Thominho Week 2026 Prompts here
Text under the cut
NSFW Thominho Week 2026.
June 14th - June 20th
Posts will be reblogged from June 14th - June 24th
The shared ao3 collection will open on May 15th
All creative mediums are welcome!
Gen AI is not.
Prompts can be combined with each other and other events
Tagging:
Please tag your works with:
thominho week 2026
The prompt you're using
alt for the alternate prompts
nsfw for the nsfw prompts
Trigger warnings, if any
Any additional tags
Prompts:
June 14th: Overstimulation
June 15th: Humiliation Kink
June 16th: Wax Play
June 17th: Bulging
June 18th: Orgasm Denial
June 19th: Coming Untouched
June 20th: Mutual Non-Con
Summary: Minho gets his memories back and seeks comfort in Thomas's presence. Written for @thominho-week-2026 alt prompt the death cure.
Minho’s memories return.
His original name. The last time he saw his parents. The first time he saw his friends. The classrooms where he learned the random facts he always wondered how he knew. The first time he got his blood drawn. The first time he snuck outside. Uncountable other moments and details, all sliding together like puzzle pieces to form the picture of his life.
And then one memory separates itself from the rest.
A griever looms over him, far larger than any other griever he’s seen. His muscles tense to run away, but he can’t. He’s backed into a corner. Trapped, a burning pain in his wrists. No. Not a corner. A chair, that he’s tied to. And the walls are smooth and white and not stone.
The context for the memory comes back, and with a sickening plummet of his stomach, Minho realizes it’s not the griever that is bigger, but himself that is smaller.
He lurches up off the makeshift operating table. He stumbles, groggy from the sedatives. The phantom ache of old bruises is replaced by real pain in his head. But once he gets his feet under him, he feels less trapped.
“You shouldn’t be up yet,” Hans advises and Minho ignores him. His heart is thudding and his breath is ragged and the memory won’t leave him alone. He staggers across the room, watched by three pairs of eyes that he can’t let see him like this.
“Are you ok?” Brenda calls after him, and he ignores her too, focused on making it to the bedroom where they’d put Thomas after his procedure.
The bedroom is not especially inviting. It’s bare, with minimal furniture and no decoration. There’s no rug to soften the scuffed wood floor and the only light is dim sunlight filtered through a dingy curtain. But it’s peaceful. With no unwanted stares watching him, Minho feels safe enough to collapse into the chair in the corner and contemplate the new information about himself.
He breathes deeply, trying to think of something else. But that day with the griever won’t leave his mind. He remembers the revulsion of the first time he saw the thing, the horror of the blades repeatedly reaching for his face, never knowing if this would be the time it cut him.
Minho scoots the chair closer to the bed where the room’s other occupant lays. Thomas is asleep. Whether it’s natural or a remnant of the higher dose of sedative he’d needed due to the fail-safe, Minho can’t tell. Either way, it looks like a good sleep. Thomas’s expression is serene and his body doesn’t twitch with nightmares. Minho envies that calm.
He tries to match his breathing to Thomas’s, hoping to gain some of the other boy’s calmness for himself. It’s almost working when a particularly loud car drives past. Minho jumps, the sound of the engine reminding him of whirring blades. His hand accidentally brushes against Thomas’s and he grabs on reflexively.
This is ridiculous, Minho tells himself. There are obviously no grievers in Denver, and the people who put him in with one aren’t here either. He remembers the way he’d been in the months following that day, sad and scared and empty, flinching at shadows and floating through the days with no purpose other than to avoid Randall’s wrath. He can’t go back to that state, he can’t.
He needs to pull himself together. The first step is stop clinging to Thomas’s hand like a lifeline. But the moment he flexes his fingers, getting ready to disentangle them from Thomas’s, is the exact moment that the other boy wakes up.
Thomas squeezes his hand and looks up at him appraisingly. “Bad memories?” he asks.
“That obvious?” Minho tries to sound casual, though he’s sure his grip on Thomas’s hand gives him away.
Thomas just shrugs. “I wasn’t exactly expecting our pasts to be happy given, well, everything.”
“Yeah,” Minho agrees. He’d known his past wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and he’d made enough bad memories over the past two years that he thought he was prepared to find more of the same farther back. Still, it was one thing to know, conceptually, that he’d been orphaned and raised in a lab. It was something else entirely to remember, viscerally, how he’d been tortured.
Uncharacteristically, Thomas does not pry into what it is that Minho remembered. He rolls onto his side and scoots into the far corner of the bed, lightly pulling on Minho’s arm as he moves away. With the hand not still holding Minho’s, Thomas pats the bed beside him in invitation.
They have to squeeze together to both fit on the narrow bed. Minho starts to curl himself around Thomas, but Thomas guides him gently into a different position and wraps his arms around Minho’s shoulders, silently communicating no, I’m holding you this time.
Minho loops an arm across Thomas’s waist. “Your breath stinks,” he grumbles as an excuse to nestle his head against Thomas’s chest.
Thomas’s steady breathing is even more soothing now that Minho can feel it against his own body. He settles into the embrace, finally starting to relax. He knows that Thomas can tell he’s hurt by his memories. But letting Thomas comfort him doesn’t feel like giving in to the memory. It doesn’t feel like going back to that state where the pain destroyed him. It just feels like being loved.
tw: suicide attempt (? not sure if it counts), suicidal thoughts, set during The Maze runner, hurt thomas, implied/referenced past suicide attempts (Newts)
everyone please ignore how this is most likely going to be my only thominho week submission and thats its on the wrong day🙏 it started on my last week of school so I've been too distracted to do anythinf💔
@thominho-week-2026
Thomas stood at the precipice of the Cliff, tottering precariously on the balls of his feet. He had slipped ahead of Minho on their route. Admittedly, he didn't know why he did it. Something just told him that he had to.
The sound of faint panting hit his ears. Thomas turned, spotting Minho just as he twisted around the corner. Sweat soaked his shirt and made his hair cling to his face, visible even yards away.
Minho slowed, eyes flickering across the dim hall. A faintly nervous expression flashed on his face before fading away. Quickly, his gaze turned assessing.
"What ya doin' there, Greenie?"
Thomas blinked. He swayed slightly over the edge. "Just looking."
Minho's eyes narrowed. "Over the Cliff?" he asked, skeptical. It was clear in nearly everything he did that he doesn't believe him. Thomas could see, even at this distance with his poor vision, that Minho was tense, coiled like a snake about to strike. The thought sent a wave of nausea through his stomach.
"It's got a nice view," Thomas defended. They can both tell it's a lie; there's nothing but endless sky past the Cliff. Nothing but a stark reminder of their trapped state.
Minho slowly stepped forward. He walked as if Thomas was a cornered animal, a comparison that doesn't feel too far-fetched. Honestly, he did feel a bit cornered. He wished that Minho would back up, drag him away from the edge, bring him back to the Glade, shove him off. Conflicting ideas swarmed his mind.
What does Thomas want? Could he be trusted to make that decision?
A pebble skipped underneath Minho's foot. Thomas flinched. His gut dove, sweat beginning to build again as he caught a glimpse of the cloudless blue around him. His breath caught in his throat. It felt scratchy, though he'd drunken half his bottle not even an hour ago.
"Just come over here," Minho pressed. Emotions swam through his eyes. The rest of his face was impassive, like when Gally bothered him or one of the other Gladers asked him something they shouldn't know the answer to. Worry laced every hue of his expression. Most others wouldn't see it, Thomas knew, but even his few short weeks in the Glade had taught him how to decode this specific cypher.
Thomas glanced down at his feet, ignoring Minho's sharp intake of breath. Blood pounded through his temples. His heart raged, pulled him in two separate directions: towards Minho, back to the Glade, home, and down. Down the Cliff, down the infinite fall waiting for him past the cracked stone.
It would be so easy. He would barely need to do anything, just shift his weight, and he would be slipping away with the blue, chased by the sun above.
But, he considered, it would also be easy to step back. Twist his feet an inch and walk back into Minho's arms. Run with him back to the Glade before the doors shut and they were stuck inside again. The memory of their night in the Maze sent a shiver down his spine.
Both options were so easy. They would take less than a minute to do.
Maybe that's what made Thomas' knees lock. Both options were easy, quick, yet so permanent. He could only live with one, but he couldn't live without the other. It would be a constant tug in his mind, his heart, telling him that the other way was the correct path, that he'd made the wrong decision.
Should he listen to his mind, his rationality? Or should he listen to his heart, follow the happiest path? He couldn't tell which was which.
He couldn't be trusted to make this decision. Bile flooded his throat. With tears in his eyes, he turned back to Minho. Choose, he pleaded, words lodged in his throat. Take me home, or shove me down? Choose.
A strange sort of resignation seized Minho's expression. Beside him, his fingers twitched, reached out, snapped back. "Come on, Thomas."
Thomas' knees shook. Back home, down the Cliff. Did either option matter? None of the Gladers had gotten particularly attached to him — most seemed to dislike him, actually. If he went back, he would be doomed to be sitting alone save for Chuck, who would always eventually return to a more talkative friend. If he fell, he would be doomed to the lonesome plunge. One would end with him dead, but in the Glade he already felt like a ghost.
Choose, Minho. Choose.
The realization that his begging was futile settled in. For him and for Minho, it seemed. Thomas wasn't getting off the edge, Minho wasn't going to choose.
Did Minho not understand? Did he not understand why Thomas was on this ledge, standing on the precipice rocking his feet? Did he not understand that Thomas wanted, needed, Minho to choose, for he could not choose himself?
Thomas' eyes blurred. "I want to go home, Minho." I want to go home. To the Glade. Down, down the Cliff.
Minho nodded. He swallowed, hands rising. "I can take you back." His voice shook just slightly. Unnoticeable to anyone not attuned to him on the level Thomas was.
"Will you?" Choose, Minho. Take me home?
"Of course. Of course, Thomas," Minho whispered. He paced closer, arms still up and warning. Thomas could see the decision forming inside his mind.
With trembling hands, Minho reached forward. Excitement twisted Thomas' stomach. Fear ravaged his mind. His fingers clasped onto Thomas' shoulders.
Thomas closed his eyes. Minho had made his decision, and now he needed to wait for his execution.
Warm arms encircled him, and Thomas flinched away from the unexpected touch. His feet dragged as Minho pulled them both from the edge. Pebbles, rocks, skidded from underneath their shoes.
A cool wall hit his back, colliding with his bead a second later. Through his blurred eyes, Thomas could see Minho. Still there, his decision made.
Go home.
Thomas would go home, away from the endless fall down the Cliff. He would go home, following Minho and his unheard words.
Minho still hadn't let go.
Taking the initiative, the decision made before he even processed it, Thomas slipped his arms around Minho. Tears stung his eyes as he shoved his head into Minho's collar.
Guilt pricked at his mind. Though, based off Minho cradling his head in its place, Thomas couldn't grasp the thought that Minho quite cared about the tears staining his shirt and harness, about Thomas' inability to move and make the decision.
Summary:Minho won't let any 'childhood friend' steal his lover.
313 words
Minho was in love with Thomas. Minho was in love with Thomas even though he didn’t want to be. That was his weird, antisocial friend that made decisions that didn't make sense until the results were over. Maybe if it was unrequited, he could live the bachelor life in this Safe Zone. But no. He just had to be emotionally vulnerable and fall for the disaster of a Greenie.
His glare hadn’t left. He had opened his heart far too much to lose it to someone who was trying to take Teresa’s place. He had this ridiculous half smirk that he knew he wore way better. He had just transported into their lives, and Minho didn’t know how to get him off. Although, leaving him with the Cranks didn’t seem halfbad.
The brunette was wasting the break. His brow furrowed every now and then or a small smile would cross his lips. The telepathy was obvious on his side (the other boy had mastered the deadpan expression).
What could they possibly be talking about that was so important? So what? This Aris guy and Thomas probably go back thanks to their WICKED powers. Who cares? He’s here now, and that’s what matters.
His instruction for them to get moving left no room for objections. Nobody dared question him seeing as his eyes held the rage of a thousand Cranks. With an obliviousness only Thomas could have, he attempted to pair up with the olive-skinned boy and childhood friend he had been thrown into free labor with.
Before he could even touch the sheet, Minho grabbed his hand, pulling him his direction. He followed blindly, more than okay with being beside the love of his life. Was he aware the hand grasping his in the desert heat was because of a point that he was taken? No. Did he mind it?
a thomas/minho friends with benefits au, featuring flight attendant thomas and guitarist minho. angst, airplane smut, jealousy and miscommunication with a happy ending. tw: past character death and physical trauma. written for @thominho-week-2026
read here ♡ here's a snippet:
"Thomas," the man speaks up again.
"Yeah?"
"You didn't invite me in here to talk about the bathroom facilities, did you?" he asks, and Thomas sucks in a breath, hoping and praying to a God he's never believed in before that it's a sign that this is going in the direction he wants it to.
"Uh, no," he laughs awkwardly, "Guilty as charged."
The guitarist tilts his head as he looks at him, studies him, and he thinks he might feel the hairs on his neck stand up as Minho's breath hits him.
"Well, that's a relief," he chuckles ever so softly, "Because I was just thinking about how cute that uniform looks on you."
Minho dared to glance at the competitors beside him. Both their eyes were narrowed forward, the only thing in sight the finish line.
“Get set.”
He took a deep breath as he prepared for the win. Either he got first place, or he got nothing at all. If it wasn’t a number one medal, it could go in the trash.
“Go!”
Thomas cheered as his boyfriend was off, clapping his hands together. The track star felt the way his feet hit the ground as the wind whooshed passed his face. His shoulders were finally light, the weight of everything else brushing off his mind. This was all his world was, all it had ever been.
He pushed himself like his life was in danger, sweat dripping down his forehead as the sun beat down on him. The air smelt like dirt and salt, an athletic scent that had become his peace. His legs burned and ached, so much so that he had to remind himself that stopping would only make it hurt worse.
The finish line was right in front of him, barely an inch away. The guy beside him noticed too, panting as he could see victory in reach.
This could kill him if he screwed up.
But his pride was stronger than his will to live.
Pushing off the ground, he physically threw himself over the line. His face burned at the feeling he never expected, a strange relief as both feet left the Earth. Knowing what was coming, he tightly shut his eyes as he won by just a second.
And then the sound of an angry snap when he landed.
Thomas could only watch Minho lay on the recliner, giving one word responses as he stared at the ceiling. His face was blank despite the dark circles under his eyes. The white cast had sucked all of the color from his world. Food had no taste, candles had no scent, and he was too numb to even feel the disappointment at this point.
“I bet you ten bucks he’s the father,”Thomas bet from the couch beside him. He didn’t even offer a grunt this time. Why the hell would he care about someone else’s mess of a life when his own was falling apart?
As he glanced over, he noticed the empty water bottle. Without a word, he picked it up and walked passed him to the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight and the fridge covered it up, he let himself sigh as he closed his eyes. He could feel the limit approaching and hear warning bells getting closer and closer. Between the uncomfortable silence they were always in to being accused of sabotage for getting him a popsicle, he had a feeling this was the test of loyalty.
And he had a feeling Minho wasn’t that interested in passing.
He knew track was important to Minho. Running had been there since he was young, had comforted him when he didn’t know how to speak. It built him up into who he was, and he was better for it.
Thomas knew running was important to him.
He just didn’t think it was more important than him.
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