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httpseiki · 2 months

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Hi besties! I am bringing you the first installment of my Valentine’s Day collab with @numberonejeonginstan! This idea has been festering in my head and i am a little too excited to bring it to fruition!

Summary: Hard launching your relationship with Chan was always in the plan……but not this way

Warnings: taking of a sexual picture that gets uploaded on chan’s instagram, rough sex, multiple rounds, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex( doo not!), creampie, reader is a tease, Afab!reader, hair pulling, slightly traumatizing the band mates( you’ll see and I am sorry), mention of JYP( NOT SEXUAL AND AGAIN IM SORRY), Chan being on the phone with jyp while fucking you senseless, degradation, mention of spitting, dacryphilia

!!MDNI!!, BLANK OR AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKES!!

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2 years, that is how long you and Chan have been together. Shockingly, you had managed to keep your relationship well hidden and away from the public eye.

Two happy years of blissful memories and tear jerking earth shattering orgasms. Naturally, you loved being able to gatekeep a side of him that only you knew. The side of him where he pulled your hair and spat in your mouth calling you his “dirty little secret,” his “pretty little cumslut.”

But, he also had a sweet side, when in the bedroom. Some days, he would hold your hands, your ankles settled on his slender waist ( right above his plump juicy voluptuous ass) as he so gingerly, sensually, precisely rolled his hips into yours. Those nights you were his angel, his pretty girl.

As much as you loved keeping your relationship a secret, you both knew that eventually you would post or release a statement about your long term relationship or one of you, probably Chan, would slip up and word would spread like wild fire.

That’s when you came up with the idea of a post, a simple captured image of the two of you that would announce your relationship to the public world. Dating an idol was hard, but you and Chan had lasted two years already, even through all the dating rumors— Chan and Jimin— and tours, promotions, schedules, late nights in the studios.

So, you ,being the ever gracious partner you are, mentioned it to Chan. “Baby, why don’t we just post something to announce us?” You perched, curled against his chest one night in bed. “A post? Where, my love?” He yawned out, placing a soft kiss to your hair.

“Your instagram. The caption doesn’t;t have to be anything magnificent, and neither does the picture. Just something to say ‘ hey i have a partner.” You mumbled, your manicured fingernails tracing shaped along his defined chest.

“Baby, are you sure?” He felt uncertain. It was so public, and once it was on the internet, it could never be removed. It was permanent. Gazing up at him , you nodded, “yeah. It doesn’t have to be some super spectacular picture, channie. Just us, it doesn’t even have to fully show our faces,” you consoled, sensing that he wasn’t too keen on the idea.

But ……he was a little too keen…..and had sinister ideas in his head

That’s what got you to where you are now. Chan had completely stripped you and himself of all layers of clothing except underwear. Your sleek black push up bra and an accompanying thong–that was ruined by how wet you were– and his black Calvin klein boxers–that were holding his painfully hard dick.

“S-so wet chan, please,baby.” You mewled out, feeling yet another surge of wetness ooze from your cunt. “Oh? You're so wet and I haven't even done anything yet,doll?” He teased, with a seductive lilt in his voice and tilt of his head.

Laying on the bed, you drew your eyes closed and hissed as you felt the slight chap and plushness of his lips sucking at the juncture of your jaw and neck. “A-ah Chan. Fuck, so good,” you whined, your hands finding purchase at the hairs resting at the base of hips neck, pulling and tugging.

Little did you know, Chan had secretly grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of him sucking your neck. The picture only showing the lower half of your face.

That was what he was going to post

Chuckling, Chan bit his teeth into the skin, hard enough to draw a hickey to the surface of what was your paled skin. “Yeah? Feels so good, honey? Bet your poor cunt is so drippy and wet for me, huh?” All you could do was nod your head quickly, as he slithered his hand down the plane of your torso and into your thong.

“Poor doll, so fucking wet. You want my fingers?” Chan chuckled, leaning his head in to suck another hickey onto your skin. “Yes, yes please. Hhhnnnngggggg-fuck- please.” The words fumbled out of your mouth. Rubbing his calloused fingers along the slit of your cunt, he pressed them against your clit causing your body to jerk and your head to roll back.

“Oh my fuuck! Chan chan please,” you had all but managed to whine out before he rubbed brazen harsh circles and finger 8s on your clit. “Please what, doll? I'm giving you my fingers.” He laughed,haughtily. He knew what he was doing and he also knew he could make you cum from just rubbing your clit.

As good as his fingers on your clit felt, and trust me it was good, you needed more. Closing your eyes, your hips bucked up and you cried. “Please more more! Hhhnnnngggggg! Want them in me, please chan!” You cried, hot tears of pleasure rolling down the plump apples of your cheeks.

Chan loved seeing you cry when he was making you feel so good. It was one of his favorite sights, something he could write a song about. Hell, he already did but it was going to be unreleased.

With a dark chuckle, his fingers let up on your clit and he used his other hand to grab onto the fabric of your thong and pull it down your thighs. “Fuck, doll. So fucking wet. Poor cunt is all drippy for me.” He groaned out, once he saw the clear sticky string of your nectar connecting itself to your thong.

How could you not be wet? You bit your lit harshly and spread your legs further, feeling the pads of his fingers pressing at the entrance of your cunt. “Ah-ah! Fuck! So wet for you, channie!” You cried out, feeling his lips connect themselves with yours as he pushed 2 of his fingers into the wet walls of your cunt.

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He breathed against your lips, slowly building a rhythm as he pumped his bulbous fingers into your cunt. “Pretty cunt sucked my fingers right in, doll.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. Shuddering, you let out a ragged breath and moan, to which he swallowed both.

“Yes, yes. Hhhhnnnngggg feels so good, channie. Love your fingers!” You choked out, your breathing ragged as your chest rise and fell quickly. “Yeah?like my fingers, doll? Do they fill you up?” He snickered, the pace of his finger's quickening.

Soon enough, he was alternating between harsh pumps, slowed drags and just pressing on your g-spot with small vibrations. It was delicious, delirious and addictive.

Going back to his fast harsh pumps, the palm of his hand was smacking against your clit with every push in. You were close, the coil of your orgasm tightening with every passing second. “Fuck fuck fuck! Channie! Close, close, ‘m gonna cum!” You sobbed, chest heaving and your legs fidgeting.

Spitting into your mouth, chan fastened his pace and held your hips down. “Yeah? Wanna be a good little cumslut and soak my fucking fingers? Do it, do it so I can fuck you full of my big cock, doll.”

At that, the coil snapped and your vision went white. “Yeeeeeeesss! Hhhnngggg-fuck fuck fuck! Cumming!” You choked in broken sobs, your orgasm ripping through your body as you soaked his fingers.

“Good girl, that's my good girl. Soaking my fingers like a dirty slut.” He cooed, venomously. Pulling his fingers out of your cunt, he pushed his boxers down as he hard and dripping cock sprang free.

“All fours, doll.” He told you, which you somehow managed to hear. “Fuck, okay.” You whimpered, raising yourself into your limbs even though your arms collapsed, leaving only your ass in the air.

“Look at you. Offering that sweet cunt to me,” he chuckled, swiping his red and leaking cock head through your slit. “Please, channie. In me- need -” was all you managed to get out before he was pushing his cock in to the hilt.

On the typical day, he would inch his cock into you. Sometimes even going as far as to count out each and every inch of his deliciously long, girthy, veiny cock. Hissing out, through bated breaths. “One inch in, doll. Stretching out so pretty around my big fucking cock.” The groans and grunts falling into the air, through his plump lips, into the room whose air smelt of pure unadulterated debauchery and sex. He’d inch another in, the grip your velvet walls on his girth almost suffocating.” Two in, doll. Fuck me.” Another inch, practically half way there. It felt never ending. But, when all 7 and half inches of his cock were sheathed in the warm, hot, suffocating,soft walls of your pussy it felt as if you didn’t know where you started and Chan ended.

At the moment, the base of his pelvis and his neatly trimmed pubic hairs were pressed so hotly smug against the crack of your ass. Slowly, he drew his hips back, eyes almost rolling to the back of his skull as a wet squelch sound echoed along the walls. As slowly as he withdrew his hips, he plunged his cock back into you. “Hnnnng! Oh my fuck! Channie!” You hiccuped, the breathing knocked out of your chest, at the force and precision of his thrust.

“Fuuuuuuck, me. Pussy is so fucking wet, doll. What, does it get you hot and bothered all creamy in your pathetic little thong to know the world knows you belong to me?” He seethed, his breathing ragged. Picking up his pace, his hips snapped against yours, thus leaving a wet ring of your arousal at the base of his cock. The most you were capable of doing was gripping the bed sheets around you and crying out in sheer, earth shattering pleasure. “Hnnnnngggg! A-ah-ah! Oh my god!”

Yes. Yes it did, get you all hot, bothered and creamy to know the world was aware of your relationship—well not yet, at least.

“God can’t help you, doll. Now answer my question.”he barked, only continuing the brutal pummeling of his cock into the warm cavern that was your cunt. Smack. One sharp slap delivered to your ass cheeks, for each passing second you didn’t answer his question. “Answer the fucking question doll!”

Through your cries and hiccups, you nodded your head, feeling yourself get floaty. “Yes! Yes-fuck! Yes, I like knowing the world knows you’re mine and-“ another sharp thrust, his red mushroom cockhead bullying your g-spot. “Yes, it -fuuuuuck- it makes me hot and bothered and so fucking wet!”

While you lay there taking whatever Chan gave you, Chan reached to his bedside table to grab his phone. Opening the instagram app, he clicked the ‘make a new post’ button and threw the phone by your head. “I bet you fucking do, doll.” Snap, his pelvis collided against the swell of your ass, your ass cheeks rippling from the force. “Go ahead, post that fucking picture we took, doll. Let everyone know, I’m taken.” He sneered, a venomous laugh tumbling from his lips as his pace went from hard and brutal to deep and precise rolls.

Incredulously, you peeked your eyes open, throwing a semi-horrified but mostly shocked face at him. “What!? Post the- hhhngg fuck I’m close- picture?! Are you fucking crazy, Chan!?” You argued, your eyes rolling back, as he punctuated his rolls to hit your g-spot with every punch in. Bending over your back, he sucked a hickey on the sweet spot behind your ear. Chuckling, he panted, “yeah, crazy for you. Crazy in love with you crazy for this sweet fucking cunt.” He kissed the back of your neck, snapping his hips against yours.

Well. It’s his idea.

Biting your lip, you moaned and took his phone into your hands, selecting the photo of you two. His plump luscious lips sucking the juncture of your neck and jaw. It was erotic, to say the leases, and definitely confirmed that Chan was in fact in a relationship. Swiping through the motions, you arched your ass into chan’s hips. “Fuck me, Chan. What should the caption be?”

02.14

Valentine’s Day . This would be your third Valentine’s Day together. Each previous one being celebrated with lavish gifts, romantic candlelit dinners, making love

Which is a stark contrast to your current day. The feeling of chan’s hips ramming against yours, his mushroom cockhead leaking precum as he precisely hit your g-spot, the stretch of his cock in the tightness of your walls( no matter how many times you’d made love and fucked), the sounds of his groans and grunts.

It was the polar opposite of your past shared valentines days. Chan could tell you were getting close. Man, he always knew. The way your warm wet walls would suffocate his cock in its vice like grip, leaking even more arousal to build at the thigh base of his cock wetting his pubic hair.

Your breathing becomes shallow and broken with your desperate cries and begs and what he calls “pathetic princess pleas” for him to let you cum. Of course, he always did.

But, he had a little trick up his sleeve.

Sucking your earlobe into his mouth, he could feel every pulse and clench of your cunt as he bullied and abused your cunt with his ,magnificent, cock. “Hhhhhnnggggg!oh my fuuuuck! Chan Chan Chan,” you spilled, eyes clenching, the begs pouring from you like a faucet.

Cute. He thought it was cute. His own orgasm was creeping up on him, his balls full of hot thick cum waiting to be painting your walls. “I know, doll. But …..I need you to do one thing,for me,okay.”

His rolls and thrusts and the gyrations of his hips never stopped, all the while. “Fuck-yes yes! Anything,channie! I’ll do anything, just let me cum please! I’m so close.” You cried, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as your throat burned from the amount of use it was going through.

“Post it,” he breathed into your ear. Post it? Post what— fuck. You had completely forgot about the post; that was to be uploaded on his instagram. That very instagram where he posted ‘boyfriend coded’ pictures that were taken by you. The instagram that had 7.1 MILLION followers— some of them being his own band members.

The pleasure full abuse of his dick on your pussy had made you forget the post. The picture captioned a simple yet effective ‘02.14,’ “post it…..post it and I’ll give you my load, pump you full until you’re leaking and gasping for air, doll.” Chan slyly smiled down at your shaking form. Nodding, you shakily grabbed his phone, unlocking it with your Face ID; yes you had Face ID on his phone.

With all the strength you could muster, your orgasm about to rip you to shreds and wreak havoc on your body, you hit the button. Posted. You cried, and curled your toes, hot cries leaving your body as you flashed him the screen, his post showing on the feed.

Crying, your body seized and spammed, the hot white release pulling your body to the brink of reality. Damn was this orgasm strong. “Aaaaaggghhhhh! Hnnnggggg, fuck! I’m cumming fuck,Chan! Your vision was white, your release thoroughly coating the entirety of his cock. You came a lot. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of announcing your relationship in such an erotic way or the way Chan was fucking you so addicting lay well or both.

Probably both.

“Fuck. Good fucking girl. Take my load, like the good doll you are.” He groaned, fully bottomed out as spurt after spurt and ribbon after ribbon of his viscous hot cum filled your walls. “Yeeaahhhhh. Taking your boyfriend’s cum after posting that picture. My good girl,he spat, a tinge of venom laced in his husky voice.

Regaining your breathing, you collapsed on the bed, Chan collapsing by your side.”wow……..happy Valentine’s Day,baby.” He smiled, placing a kiss to your hair. “Wow, indeed. Happy Valentine’s Day,my channie.” You giggled, still out of breath. “Can’t believe we just hard launched our relationship,” you giggled out, suddenly remembering the post.

He chuckled and nodded, “I know..what do you think they’ll say.” Oh boy did people have a lot to say, you knew they would and you didn’t need to check the post. But, you hadn’t even checked instagram yet. His phone had been tossed somewhere on the bed when he came and yours was charging on your nightstand. That and the fact that your body had been practically turned into a pile of mush and goo with the way Chan was giving it to you. You were just too lazy.

Pulling you into his side, he placed a delicate kiss on your temple. “Kinda feels good to be out about it, though.” That was true, you wouldn’t have to be so secretive, always hiding and being cautious and careful about being seen together in public. “Agreed, channie. It feels nice, but i know you and you’ll still be flirting with stays on the bubble. “You laughed, patting his toned chest with your hand. “What? I don’t flirt, with them.”

Lies. Lies lies lies. Lies and he knows it. “Oh shut it, mister “teasing mrs.Bahng is what i live for,” You snorted, the recollection of his bubble messages playing through your head.

The atmosphere had made a 180 degree turn, hearing the familiar ring of his phone. “Huh?Who could be calling me?” He mumbled, sitting up and perching himself on the foot of the bed, checking the caller ID.

JYP PD-nim

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Shitting bricks. Crying. Throwing up. That was how he felt. You could sense the change of his mood, by the way his eyebrows rose and he cleared his throat. Raising your eyebrows, you crawled until you were sitting behind him letting your cheek rest against his toned and muscular back.

“Hi, JYP pd-nim.” He chuckled out nervously. Oh fuck……it was his boss. “Hello, Bang Chan. I saw your recent post.” He replied, dryly. Uh oh. “I-I’m so sorry, pd-him. I’m- I don’t know how to even explain it,” Chan stuttered out.

All of a sudden, a devilish idea popped in your head. Mess with him. Resting your cheek on his back, you slid your hands around his front and guided them around his chest. What were you doing, he thought. He was literally on the phone with his boss, for fucks sake. And you want to play games with him?

Dangerous. A dangerous game indeed. “Well, Bang Chan, I will have to release a formal statement and apology,” JYP sounded through the phone. His voice was calm but Chan's voice wouldn’t be. Slowly, you meticulously dragged your hands down to his softening cock. “I- i understand, pd-him.” He admonished, slightly choking on his saliva when your soft hands wrapped around his girth.

Muting the phone, he turned to you. “Yeah! What the fuck are you doing? I'm talking to my boss. Sit on your pretty ass and behave!” Chan barked at you, causing a gush of wetness to escape from your cunt, as you slowly jerked his cock.“ What if i don’t want to?” You giggled. Oh, you were in for it. RIP your pussy, again.

“Hello? Bang Chan are you still there? This is a very important conversation.” You could hear the words come from the speaker, your chin on chan’s shoulder as your lips sucked love bites into his tanned skin. “Yes! Yes, i’m here pd-nim.” He replied, swatting your thigh in warning.

A warning you did not heed, only fastening your hand causing a dribble of precum to spill from the slit of his now hard, again, cock. Choking back a groan, he covered it with a cough and a “sorry, my throat is a little dry.” Another lie. Softly, you giggled and watched as his breathing hitched and he panicked.

The conversation continued, as did your teasing. Your manicured fingernails leave scratches on his chest, as your body pressed against his back. He was going to snap, soon. “Listen to your boss, channie.” The whisper crossed his ears, as your lips were against the shell of his right ear.

Oh, he had enough of you and your games. Squishing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he turned to you and pressed you into the mattress. Once he muted the call, he pushed your legs into a mating press. “Wanna be a naughty doll and play games, huh? Well, I’ve had enough,’ and with that he was pushing his cock into your cunt and setting a brutal pace.

Unmuting the call, JYP was still going on about what if dispatch put an article out, that some stay are young and impressionable, he should’ve talked to JYP about confirming your relationship to the public.

At the moment, it was falling on Chan’s deaf ears. he knew this was an important conversation which he should’ve been present in, paying attention because the post was suggestive and slightly erotic and could have big implications. Yes he should have been paying attention to what his boss was saying.

But, how could he when your cunt was sucking him in and was so tight and snug around him, especially when he had fucked you not even 10 minutes ago? He couldn’t. What was JYP going to do, anyways? Fire Chan? No, not in a million years. Put him on a hiatus? Shit, that’s mean he’d get to spend more time with you and fuck you more. He wouldn’t be complaining.

“Hello? Hello? Bang Chan?” He heard in one year, the wet squelches of his cock driving into your cunt playing through his other ear. With foxish eyes, you bit your lip. Moans and pants falling from your lips. “Aaaaah…hhhnnggg. So good, channie. More, give me more.”

If more was what you wanted then more was what you would get. Delivering a harsh thrust, his cock was fully bottomed out in you as he withdrew a couple inches. Pushing back in, his cockhead was fully pressing around your g-spot. He knew its location so well. “Yeah? Like that, doll?” He chuckled, his boss still spilling words about the post and blah blah blah.

In all honesty, Chan couldn’t care less. But you wanted to poke the bear some more. “Chan-ah. Pay attention to him,” you breathlessly giggled, feeling your toes curl. Your second orgasm of the night approaching. “Pay attention? How can I pay attention when your tight little pussy is sucking me in, doll?” He punctuated his question with a hard thrust.

“Ah! ah ah fuck,channie!” You moaned, reaching up to tug on his ebony hair. He had a point. If you were on the phone while he was balls deep inside you, you definitely wouldn’t have been able to pay attention. “See, doll? Can’t pay attention when you feel so good around me,” he chuckled out, his lush lips pressing against the swells of your breasts.

“Chan-fuck! It’s your boss,” you helplessly cried, as he only continued to delve and plow his cock into you. “No, just focus on us, doll. I know you want to cum again. And i know you want me to fill you up again, yeah?” He chided, phone still tucked between his ear and shoulder.

Rolling your eyes back, you nodded. Damn, he was right that you wanted him to fill you again and that you wanted to cum again. “I can feel you getting close. Your little cunt is all gushy and squeezing me, doll. Give me one more,baby.” He coerced, rolling his hips into your, your thighs perched high on his. “I know you want to,” and damn did you.

As close as you were, you needed just a touch more, a nudge, a push. Something, but you couldn’t put your tongue on it. Tongue. That was what you needed. “Moaning, you pulled Chan down for a hot kiss. Immediately, your tongues fought for dominance.

That beloved second orgasm was getting closer and closer. “I can tell you want to cum. Come on baby, one more.” Chan breathed in your mouth. His lips swallowed each and every one of your cries, pants, hiccups, pleas. Tearfully, you cried into his mouth, hands pulling his hair. “Right there, I’m right there. Fuck! Hhhnnnggggg channie!” You pleaded, your muscles spamming and twitching again as your back arched from where it laid on your bed.

“Let go for me doll. Soak me good and I’ll fill you up.” He bargained, the pace in his rolls and thrusts faltering. His own second orgasm on the brink of grasping his conscience. He couldn’t hold out much longer, so he reached a hand to rub quick calculated circles on your clit.

“I-hng! Fuuuuck! Yes yes, like that! I’m gonna cum!” You wailed, sobbing as your head tipped back and the band of your orgasm snapped. For the second time that night, your vision went white and your body was made mush. Pliable for whatever Chan wished.

But, all he wished was to cum in you, fill you with his seed. And that was exactly what he did. Pinching his eyes shut, his hips staggered before stilling against your own. “Yeeeeah, taking my cum again. Juuuust like that, squeezing my cock so good.” He groaned out,voice husky and raspy. He came a lot, leaking out of your abused hole and onto the bedding below your now sweaty bodies.

Those sheets were absolutely ruined, but it wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last.

Cynically, Chan unmuted the phone call and held his phone to you. “Want to say hi to JYP pd-nim, doll?”

~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~

tags; @straykeedz : @straykeedz-recs : @kaciidubs : @itsnotmydejavu : @linosssss : @hyunsvngs : @jinnie-ret : open <3 reblog, comment or dm us to be added <3

<3 reblog to show supoort<3

-please do not, repost, translate, copy, steal, paraphrase or claim my works , on any website- ©️SingSangSeung 2023

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httpseiki · 2 months

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𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐢 ; 𝐥𝐦𝐡

🚨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢 𝐟𝐟 𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬, 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠… 𝐦𝐞 ;

genre: angst, smut, fluff | 18+, minors dni | ;

wc: around 12,1k ;

cw: non-idol!au ; husband!minho ; explicit sexual content (clit play, unprotected penetration, creampie) ; lots of crying ; infertility ; mentions of an unplanned pregnancy and a pregnancy scare ;

ikigai [ik-ee-guy], 生き甲斐 , japanese : a reason for being, the thing that gets you up in the morning ;

⛅︎

Minho stares at the small, wooden crib in the middle of the room and silently prays to the gods above that he too will get to feel this kind of joy soon.

He’s happy for his best friend Chan and his wife, he really is, but it’s still hard to watch someone else living his dream and being constantly reminded that it’s not his turn yet, it’s not your turn. He instantly wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer as he fights back the tears that well up in his eyes when Chan picks up the small, whining creature wrapped in a soft yellow blanket from the crib. Chan looks at his baby with a gaze that holds all the love of the world, that much is very clear to Minho, and he keeps wondering what does it feel like, Chan, being a dad? But what he wonders the most, unfortunately, is will I ever get a chance to feel this kind of joy, too, someday?

That’s a question neither him nor you can give an answer to.

“Let’s go say hi to uncle Lino and auntie Y/N, shall we?” Chan speaks to the baby in a soft voice, then chuckles when his daughter blinks at him a few times and stirs, snuggled comfortably in her fluffy blanket. “Hi, uncles!” Chan coos at the baby once he’s sure you and Minho are both in her peripheral vision. She’s the cutest. Only a few weeks old, she looks just like her father - she even has his dimple.

Both you and Minho coo at the baby as well, little Haru, and then Chan speaks again. “Do you want to hold her?” He asks his friend, but when he notices Minho’s panicked expression, he chuckles and looks at you, encouraging you with a nod.

“Sure,” you smile at him, but Minho senses so much pain behind that smile, and the second little Haneul is in your arms, he already knows what you’re thinking. He notices the way your eyes well up with tears as you hold her and caress her puffy cheek as she stirs and looks at you with her cute, boba eyes. “Hi, Haneul,” you coo at her, “This is your cranky uncle Minho,” you giggle and Haneul’s curious eyes fall on Minho’s face.

He dramatically gasps, pretending to be offended, “Me? Ah, Haneul, your auntie is a liar, she’s the cranky one,” he boops her little nose, “You don’t want to be around her if she hasn’t had her coffee in the morning.”

“Yah, you little sh-“

“Y/N, please, there’s a baby right here,” Minho scolds you with a playful grin on his face, then his gaze falls back on Haneul, who’s frowning, “See? Cranky, I told you,” he shrugs. Out of the blue, little Haneul bursts into a loud cry that catches Minho off guard.

“Okay, enough time with the uncles,” Chan chuckles as he takes her in his arms, cooing and rocking her as he hums a soft tune, “Yah, Minho, you made my baby cry, ah.” When he notices Minho’s panicked expression, he just chuckles again and says, “Relax dude, I’m kidding. She’s just hungry.”

Will I be a good dad?,Minho can’t help but think as he watches Haneul relax in her father’s arms, her cute eyes light up when she sees the small bottle of milk. Will I be able to calm my child like that? Understand their needs, be their safe place?

“She’s so cute,” you murmur only for Minho to hear, “I want a baby, Minho…” he doesn’t miss the way your voice cracks, and he’s quick to wrap his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“Oh, jagi, I know,” he kisses you on the head, “I do, too.” His voice breaks as well, and it’s your turn to hug him now, caressing his back as you both watch Chan feed his daughter as he says something to the guys, Changbin and Felix, sitting next to him, watching the baby in awe.

“I think I… I think I’d be a good mom?” Your voice comes out as a question, full of doubts, and he hears you sniffle, but you’re not looking at him - you know you’ll break down if your eyes meet his.

He kisses you on the top of your head once more and lingers. “You’ll be a great mom. You’ll be the best mom in the world, jagi,” he whispers, brushing your knuckles with his thumb.

He wants to reassure you, tell you everything’s gonna be okay and that soon you’ll have the family you’ve dreaming of for years, that you’ll finally be a mom and he’ll be a dad, but he can’t. How is he supposed to make a promise he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep? It’s not something he can control, it’s not something either of you can control. He feels so hopeless, like he’s failing you in some way, not being able to give you what you want the most.

You’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while now - a couple of years already, nearly three.

The decision was mutual and came natural for the both of you - you moved in together when you were still in college, and it didn’t take long before the two of you started having baby fever, dreaming of the perfect mix of you and Minho running around the house. You decided to wait until after graduation. College came and went, and just like that, you and Minho started trying for a baby. A baby that never came.

You’ve always wanted to become a mother. Minho, though, never fully realized how much he wanted to be a dad until he met you. Give you a child, a family, raise your little bundle of joy together, family vacations, the holidays together, him dressing up as Santa on Christmas Eve… He wants all of this, and he wants it with you. It wouldn’t make sense with anyone else - you’re the love of his life, his soulmate.

“I love you so much, Minho,” you whisper, turning to look at him.

He sees your teary eyes and wishes he could take the pain away, “I love you too, jagi.”

⛅︎

It’s familiar, but never fails to take your breath away, the feeling of Minho’s fingers on your skin - his long fingers brushing your body, making a shiver run down your spine as you arch your back under his touch. His lips are wrapped around one of your nipples, licking and sucking your hardened bud, occasionally scraping it using his teeth - his thrusts inside of you are slow and deep, his pace is steady, his movements fluid.

His eyes are closed, small huffs coming out of his nostrils and he fists the bedsheets as he rocks his hips back and forth, steadily. His body blankets you, making you feel perfectly safe in his embrace. As he feels close to reaching his orgasm, he lets go of your nipple, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He shifts his weight on his elbow, placed on the side of your head, then you feel his other hand travel all the way through your body - his calloused fingers brush the side of your breast, then your stomach, then they briefly stroke your thigh, before you feel them on your pussy. Minho brushes your labia, hissing when he feels how beautifully your lips spread to welcome his length - only when his fingers are damp, pads entirely wet with your arousal, he touches your clit.

“I’m- ‘m close, jagi… ‘m about to cum,” he chokes on his own words, rubbing your bud a bit faster, drawing tight, imaginary circles on it, the way he knows you like it.

“‘M close too, please don’t stop,” you pant. Your toes begin to curl, and your thighs start to tremble as your breathing becomes more and more labored. “So close, so close,” you chant, whimpering under him, which encourages him to continue - it doesn’t matter if his wrist is starting to feel a bit swollen.

He releases inside of you with a choked moan, filling you up with his semen - only after making sure you’ve come, too, of course. In fact, the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him, clenching around him, is what pushes him off the edge in the first place. The awareness that he’s the only one who gets you to feel you this way, to see this side of you - he feels so damn lucky.

“I love you so much, my jagi,” Minho mumbles, his words are muffled against your skin.

You catch your breath, running your hand through Minho’s dark hair, pulling it back from his forehead and face once he lifts his head to meet your gaze. His brown, boba eyes, are full blown as he stares deep inside your soul - he already knows what you’re thinking. He knows you so well, better than anyone else.

“I love you, Min,” you smile at him, but he can see the pain you’re trying to hide behind that smile, and it kills him.

He shifts his body so that he gets off of you, careful not to cause you any discomfort nor pain as he pulls out of you, not without pecking your lips once more, lingering for a bit. He lets his body fall on the mattress, his chest rising and falling quickly as he comes down his high. When he feels you move, he knows what’s about to happen next. You grab a pillow, his, because it’s thicker, and place it under your spine and back. Then, you lift your legs all the way up, resting your heels and calves on the wall. It’s supposed to work, they say - help the reproductive system and increase your chances to get pregnant or whatever. You’re not really sure it’s true, though - you’ve been doing it for years and haven’t noticed any changes, and you most definitely haven’t gotten pregnant yet.

Minho’s heart cracks a little when he hears you sigh. He runs his calloused fingers through your hair, smiles when he feels you lean in to his touch. “I’m gonna take a shower, okay?” He asks, and you nod. He leaves the room, disappearing inside the bathroom and hopping in the shower, shivering when the cold water hits his bare skin.

He immediately notices something’s off with you when he returns to the bedroom - the way you quickly wipe your cheeks and the skin under your eyes gives away that you cried. His breath gets caught in his throat at the sight. As soon as you witness his presence in the room, you quickly sit up on the bed and smile at him - it’s a fake smile, he knows that, he knows you. Then, it’s your turn to hop in the shower while he changes the cum stained sheets and pillowcases. While he’s at it, he pulls out a clean pajamas for you to wear once you’re done.

You’re quiet when you come back in the bedroom, and also when he blow-dries your hair - fidgeting with your rings or with your nails, lifting off the acrylic until one accidentally breaks and you cuss under your breath. You’re also quiet when you slip under the covers, next to him, throwing one leg over his lap and resting your head on his chest as his cologne fills your nostrils. You’re quiet… too quiet - unusually quiet. Minho hates it, he wishes you’d open up to him, tell you what’s going on inside your head, and then he hears it - a faint sniffle.

And his heart cracks once again as his own eyes well up with tears. He pulls you closer, kissing you on the top of your head.

“You know you can tell me anything, right, jagi?” Minho asks you, praying that his tone won’t betray him, praying that you won’t notice he’s on the verge of tears as well. He wants to be strong for you.

You nod weakly, without uttering a single word, and he hugs you tighter. That causes you to burst into tears. Minho promptly wraps his arms around you, shifting so that your face is pressed against his chest as his hands pat and rub your back to soothe you, in hopes to get you to stop crying. “Shh, it’s okay, jagi, it’s okay. I’m here, hm?”

It takes you a while to finally calm down and stop crying. Minho doesn’t let go of you until you do. He doesn’t stop leaving kisses on your head, he doesn’t stop whispering soft words to you.

“Min… Minho,” your voice trembles, muffled by his t-shirt. You sniffle, but don’t lift your head, incapable to look at him right now, especially since you’re about to tell him that…

“Tell me, jagi,” Minho encourages you, speaking with a soft voice, toying with the ends of your hair, “talk to me, love.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, hugging him tighter as you fight back the tears. “Minho, why don’t we…” you take a deep breath, fisting his t-shirt, “why don’t we… take a break?”

Minho freezes. He’s not even sure if he’s breathing anymore at this point.

“A break? From… from us?” It comes out as a whisper. His heart aches. He feels numb. He can’t lose you.

“No, no!” You shake your head as a no quickly, and feel him sighing out of relief. And then - “From… from trying…” you clarify, the tears finally escaping from your eyes.

Minho feels as if his heart just stopped beating in his chest. He blinks a couple of times, furrowing his eyebrows, breathing slowly. He feels a void in his chest he’s never felt before… you want to give up. He knows there’s nothing he can say to make the situation any better - it makes him feel terrible, hopeless, useless, worthless.

“Jagi…” his voice trembles, lips quivering. He holds you closer to his chest, wishing he could take away all your pain even though his own is eating him too. He doesn’t say anything else, respecting your decision. He bites on his lip so hard he can almost taste blood in his mouth, inhaling and exhaling through his nostrils.

You’d started trying for a baby as soon as you’d graduated, and then Minho’d proposed to you.

The two of you would fall asleep in each other’s arms, listing all the possible ways you could name your daughter or son. And then you’d go to bed wondering how your child would look - who would they resemble, you or Minho? Would they have his pretty boba eyes? Or maybe his perfect nose?

These thoughts hurt now. They’re not happy thoughts anymore, there’s no joy nor hope left in them, only pain.

“I don’t want to go through this again, Min…” you sniffle, “I just… I feel so hopeful every time I’m late and then… and then the hope just gets crushed whenever I see that single line on the test,” you sigh, swallowing the lump in your throat. A couple of tears slip from Minho’s eyes. “I just don’t want to feel this pain anymore, Min… it breaks my heart.”

And it breaks his heart as well, seeing you like this. He wishes he could ease all the pain, take it all away, put it all on his shoulders and carry it for you. He can do that.

It’s when you feel something wet on your forehead that it becomes clear to you that Minho, too, is crying - his body is shaking weakly, it’s so subtle you almost don’t notice it at first. He sniffles when you hug him tighter, nuzzling your face in his t-shirt, kissing his chest. He feels terrible, he feels hopeless. He feels like he failed you in every possible way.

“Jagi, I’m… ‘m sorry,” his words come out through shaky breaths. He pulls you closer, hugs you tighter. He doesn’t want to let go. “I’m so sorry, I… I want to give you the world, my jagi, I want to give you the family we’ve been dreaming of for so long…”

You lift your head to look at him, but he just buries his face deeper in the pillow. It’s a delicate moment for him, for the both of you, and he feels so vulnerable right now. There’s nothing wrong with that, but Minho prefers to deal with his emotions by himself, and you know that. All you can do for now is be by his side and love him unconditionally, like you always did.

“I love you so much, Min…” you place a soft kiss on his jawline, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the tears keep streaming down his face and he’s unable to stop them. “You make me the happiest. It’s just… it’s just all too much sometimes, you know? Let’s take a break for a while, maybe we’re just too stressed about this.”

He nods softly, but your words don’t ease the pain he’s feeling. They don’t fill the void in his heart.

“Anything for you, jagiya.”

⛅︎

Chan’s wife is pregnant. Again. Their baby is not even six months old and yet Chan’s wife is pregnant with their second child.

Minho hopes it’s a joke, but he feels his knees give in nonetheless when his older friend delivers the news to him. It can’t be possible. He blinks rapidly a few times, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d misheard his friend. Maybe he was distracted and misunderstood what Chan was trying to say, yeah?

“Yeah, she’s… she’s pregnant,” Chan repeats, and a wide smile spreads on his face. Minho’s heart aches, hit breath hitches. “A couple of months already, actually,” he looks and sounds genuinely over the moon, “can’t believe this cutie right here is gonna be a big sister soon,” he coos at the small baby in his arms before kissing her forehead.

Minho feels bad. He wants to be happy for his friend, he really does, but… he can’t stop thinking about you. About how crushed you’re going to be when you find out. Because if Chan told him and the guys then his wife must’ve told you and the other girlfriends, right? A part of him hopes she didn’t, but he knows it’s just a wishful thinking, his. You’re going to be devastated - hell, you probably are already.

And you are.

Chan’s wife announces her second pregnancy with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, pulling out the ultrasound from her bag, and you hate yourself for not being able to be happy for her. You are happy, it’s not that. However, it’s a bittersweet feeling, yours. You feel like the worst friend ever, because while the other girls are all happily squeaking and clapping their hands as they scoot closer to try to get a better look at the picture - you stay exactly where you are, your gaze lost, as your heart pounds in your chest.

“Oh! I didn’t know you and Chan were trying again,” Changbin’s wife congratulates her with a hug. She sounds so happy, they all do. You fake a smile, the void in your chest has never hurt so bad.

“Oh we… we weren’t,” Chan’s wife admits with her cheeks slightly pink. Your heart drops, your hands start to shake. You feel your throat closing, you find it harder to breathe now. “We haven’t been exactly careful, you know? So I just knew there could be a chance and, well… here we are.”

They weren’t even trying. It just… happened. Why couldn’t it just happen to you and Minho? Why did you have to go through the heartbreak of seeing that stupid, single line on that plastic stick every month? All the vitamins, the keeping track of your ovulation cycle, the blood tests and medical checkups… It just happened, to them. They weren’t careful. They weren’t trying, it was just a coincidence. One day they fucked without a condom and then oops, pregnant, again.

“We weren’t sure if we, uh… If we wanted to keep it at first,” Chan’s wife says, and you nearly drop the cup in your hands as your heartbeat picks up its pace, “but we’ve talked a lot about it and we think we’re ready.”

You need air. You can’t breathe. It hurts too much. You need to leave.

⛅︎

Something’s off with Minho when he comes home. He takes his clothes off and changes into his pajamas without uttering a single word. When he slips under the covers, he’s still quiet. You know him, you’ve known him for years - you sense there’s something on his mind. He’s usually like this whenever he’s had a bad day at work. He still puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head, and you can hear him sigh.

And you feel the exact same way.

“Min…” you mumble, scooting even closer, resting your head on his chest.

“My jagi…” he makes himself comfortable, the pads of his calloused fingers gently brushing the skin of your arm. That’s when he hears you sniffle, and his eyebrows furrow. “Hey, hey now, what’s up?” He asks you, placing two fingers under your chin to lift your head and meet your eyes. They’re watery.

“It’s… it’s nothing, it’s just-“ your voice trembles, and you can’t stop the tears from falling from your eyes as Minho’s stare deep into your soul, “she’s…”

You don’t have to finish the sentence you started, because he already knows what you’re talking about - who. Your face is completely wet, and you keep sobbing and sniffling, and his eyes instantly widen as he sits on the bed with his back against the headboard, taking you with him. You wrap your hands around his wrists as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Once he’s finished, he kisses the tip of your nose.

“I know,” Minho whispers, kissing your forehead. “I know, jagi, I know. I’m so sorry,” he says, even though you both know it’s not his fault.

His arms wrap around your waist and pulls you closer so that your face is hidden in his neck, not caring at all about the fact that you’re soaking his shirt with your tears. He then starts toying with the ends of your hair, knowing it’s something that never fails to relax you. Back in college, he’d play with your hair for hours as you stressed over your exams, holding you tight exactly as he’s doing now.

“It- it wasn’t even planned, Min,” you cry, and Minho can hear the way your heart breaks. “It’s just… why us, Minho? We’ve been trying for years…”

Minho can’t answer your question. Technically, it’s no one’s fault, no one is responsible for your fate.

“They- oh God, they weren’t even sure they wanted to keep it,” you sob into his chest, and Minho flinches because Chan didn’t tell him that. He can’t imagine how you must have felt, how you must feel - well, he can, but at the same time he knows that no matter how similar you feel about this situation, you’re handling it in two entirely different ways.

As much as it pains him too, he knows he has to be strong for you. “Oh, jagi…” his hand moves up and down your back to soothe you, although it doesn’t really work. “I know how you’re feeling right now, believe me, but… it’s not their fault,” Minho says calmly, “they don’t know about our- I mean, they can’t know about us,” he rephrases what he originally wanted to say, avoiding to mention the word problem or issue.

“I know. It doesn’t make me feel any better, though,” you mumble in his chest.

The silence of your bedroom never felt heavier. You and Minho are both lost in your thoughts, still holding each other tightly, because each other is the only thing you’ve got left. You have only Minho, and he has only you - you and, well, the cats. His family. Your family. You wonder if it’s enough for him, if he’s content with his life as it is now or if he’s yearning for more. You wonder if you’re enough for him, if you’ll be enough for him.

“Minho?” You call his name softly, your voice sounding incredibly small as it breaks the silence. You don’t look at him as you speak, your head stays buried in his chest, your arms around him. You’re scared that looking him in the eye might be too much for you, and that you’ll end up putting off asking him what you want to ask him. “Would you still love me? If I… if I couldn’t have kids, I mean,” your heart thrums in your ears as you speak, “what I’m saying is… would you still think I’m enough?” You toy with your promise ring and wedding band as you ask him the painful question, your worst nightmare, the thought that keeps you awake at night.

Minho’s body freezes under yours, and he blinks a couple of times while staring at an indefinite spot far away while he tries to process your words and their meaning. The more he repeats your questions inside his head, though, the less sense they make to him and the more absurd they sound.

“Jagiya,” he says, sounding almost as if he’s scolding you or something. “You’re the love of my life,” he states in all seriousness, and he means it.

His answer, however, is not enough for you. You need to know.

“Minho, I’m serious.”

Minho was never the type to openly talk about his feelings, but he feels safe with you, and he knows he can tell you anything. It’s how vulnerable it makes him feels, what he dislikes about opening up to other people. It always made him feel kind of stupid, but you managed to change that throughout the years. You showed him you’re by his side no matter what, and you’ll never think any less of him. He loves talking to you. Sometimes, it’s all you do - you’d spend hours curled up on the couch or in bed, talking about your day or literally anything else. Minho wouldn’t change it for the world. The feeling of having you in his arms as he rests his head on your shoulders is everything he needs, the only thing that keeps him sane.

“I’m being serious, too,” Minho sighs. “You’re the love of my life,” he repeats with a seriousness that makes you shiver. “I told you after five months of dating, I told you the night I proposed and I told you on the altar when we got married. I tell you every day. It’s not just words to me, I mean it,” he unwraps his arms from around your waist to cup your face, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Minho…”

“No, listen to me,” his tone is much softer now as his watery boba eyes meet yours. “I love you,” he says with a disarming sincerity - it takes you off guard. “You changed my life completely, y/n. I wouldn’t be half the man I am now if you weren’t by my side. I’m completely and utterly in love with you, so no,” his gaze is fixed on your eyes, “you’re not enough. You’re more than enough, you’re everything I could possibly ask for and so, so much more.”

“Min…”

“You know, there’s a Japanese word: ikigai.”

“What?”

“Ikigai. Now, I could brag about my master in Japanese and explain its etymology, but I won’t,” Minho chuckles. “It’s a word that literally means ‘one’s reason to get out of the bed every day’, it’s your life purpose,” Minho takes your hands in his, brushing your knuckles with his lips. “You’re my life purpose, jagiya. You’re my ikigai.”

Tears are streaming down your face, and you sniffle a couple of times. Minho brings his hands on your shoulders and rubs your skin to soothe you as a warm smile spreads over his delicate features. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, then place a single, soft kiss on his lips. They taste like home - he’s your home. That’s why you’re so scared of losing him.

“Pf, silly girl, asking if you’re enough,” Minho shakes his head playfully, feigning offence. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulls you closer, and you rest your face in the crook of his neck and leave another kiss there.

There’s something different in the way he holds you now, though. His body swiftly becomes rigid, and he gulps, almost as if he’d gotten swamped with a sudden thought. A thought that terrifies him.

You see, Minho was never one too sure of himself. Insecure is not how you would describe him, though. It’s a strange way to put it, but Minho believes in his capacities and abilities, and most of all in the person that he is. He never really doubted your feelings for him, not even at the beginning of your relationship when you barely knew each other - and, most definitely, not when you were exchanging your vows at the altar. Minho is one hundred percent sure you love him. The question running through his head is, however, for how long. For how long will you love him, before realizing that he’s the one who’s not enough for you? That he’s the one who failed you? That he’s the one who couldn’t give you the family you so desperately wanted?

Minho needs you more than he needs the air to breathe. He can’t lose you, you’re his home, his everything.

“Min?” You murmur, voice muffled in his skin - soft and with a musky scent, that reminds you of his body wash. “Are you okay?” Your voice is soft, even though you’re trying to hide the turmoil in your heart.

What if another man could give you what you want? A baby. A family. A future. What if he just… can’t? Before he knows it, Minho is crying - a broken sob leaving his soft lips. You immediately pull away, lifting your head to look at him. His cheeks are stained with tears, and a few more are running down his face. Minho closes his eyes when you wipe them off with your thumbs, kissing each one of his cheeks afterwards.

“Min, what’s up? What’s wrong?”

“What if… what if it’s me?” He asks with a broken voice after a few seconds spent in silence.

“What if it’s you what?” You ask him, not fully grasping the meaning behind his question.

Part of him wants to brush it off and forget about the intrusive thought that has been bugging him for a while now, but deep down he knows he needs to talk this through with you. You’re the only one who can give him the answers he’s so desperately seeking.

“What if it’s me… the one who… What if you can’t get pregnant because you’re incompatible with me? What if one day you wake up and realize that you could have so much more with somebody else and- and instead you’re just here… wasting your time with me?”

You feel like your heart just shattered into a million pieces, maybe more. Maybe it just broke into countless of tiny, little pieces that are even imperceptible to the naked eye. You can’t believe you’ve made him feel like this, that you let him believe that having a family - no, getting pregnant, is more important than him. He’s your family, has always been.

“Pf, silly boy, thinking I’m wasting my time with you,” you try to joke the same way he did minutes earlier, but deep down you’re shocked.

“I’m… I’m serious, jagiya.” You hate how broken he sounds.

“So am I,” you crack a smile, kissing the tip of his nose. “Remember when you bumped into me during lunch break back in college? And I spilled my coffe all over your white t-shirt?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Minho asks. He remembers everything vividly. If he closes his eyes, he can almost relieve it inside his head. That’s when you met.

“That’s when we met,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It was also the day I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Minho is beyond confused. “Why?”

“You were so kind to me even though it was one hundred percent my fault. Your t-shirt was so expensive, too,” you chuckle at the memory, running your hand through his hair, gently tugging at its ends as you keep staring into his beautiful, brown boba eyes. “But you didn’t get angry at me, you just smiled and brushed it off with a shrug.”

“And then I asked you out.”

You nod, smiling. “And then you asked me out. On a coffee date, ironically enough.”

Minho giggles. He nuzzles your nose with his. “We had so much fun, too… You were just so cute, I was whipped for you already. I couldn’t wait to see you again,” he tells you, and then he pecks your lips.

“Me neither,” you smile back. “I spent the whole time glued to my phone waiting for you to text. You made me the happiest. You make me the happiest,” you correct.

“Still?”

“Minho, you’re all I ever wanted, all I’ll ever need,” you cup his face in your hands. “You and the cats are the most important thing in my life. You’re my… what was that Japanese word you just said?”

He chuckles. “Ikigai.”

“Ikigai,” you repeat with a nod, “you’re my ikigai, too. Have always been.”

Minho lets out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. He pulls you closer, and it’s his turn now to hide his face in your neck as a few more tears fall from his eyes, drenching your pajama shirt. You keep him close to your body with your legs on each side of his hips while your hands toy with the ends of his hair. You’d missed having him this close to you - not only physically, but also emotionally. You needed to have this talk with him, it really was therapeutic and regenerating for the both of you.

“You’re my Minho,” you mumble in his hair, leaving a kiss there. “And I love you so much.”

Minho shouldn’t be getting hard right now. It’s an emotional night for the both of you, and he truly is fine with things not escalating at all between the two of you, especially since you said you wanted to take a break from trying. There have been physical encounters between the two of you since then, but you never really went all the way - the pressure’s just too much, but you’re both content either way.

“Oops, sorry,” Minho mumbles on your skin, and then he places his hands on your hips to gently push you off his lap, afraid that it might make you uncomfortable to feel him there. But you stop him, wrapping your fingers around his wrists. He immediately lifts his head to meet your eyes, his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Don’t,” you whisper, “I… I want you, Minho. I need you.”

When he kisses your lips, it’s gentle and lustful at the same time - as if he’s scared to touch you in fear you’ll break under his touch. His hands grip your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt as you slowly grind on his lap. Eyes fluttering shut, Minho deepens the kiss, letting his tongue lick your lower lip, and then your mouth - he lets his hand wander underneath your shirt, brushing your stomach, then your back and then up, up, up to your shoulders.

“You’re so soft,” Minho murmurs on your lips, “your lips are so soft. And you’re so warm, I missed feeling you, having you in my arms like this…”

Kisses on your cheeks, kisses on your jawline and behind your ear, kisses on your neck. Minho knows every spot - he knows exactly where to touch you, where to put his lips, how to make you fold like a piece of paper. His thumbs brush the soft skin underneath your breasts, and then the side - you hiss when he brushes your nipples with a delicacy and a reverence only he has. What Minho doesn’t say with words, he shows you through his actions and physical affection, worshipping your body as if

“I missed you, too,” you mumble, running your hands up and down his back over the clothes.

“Off,” Minho mutters under his breath, lips latched on your neck, “can I take this off?” He asks for permission, tugging at your shirt. You nod.

His calloused fingers grab its end, and he’s rapid to take it off you, letting it slide over your head before letting it fall on the bed. The same things happen to his t-shirt. And then your chests are pressed together, as Minho resumes kissing you. His body shifts on the mattress so that he’s now lying on his back, dragging your body with his - he doesn’t stop kissing you. Your hands are all over him - in his hair, on his shoulders, his hips. You just cannot stop touching him.

Both your pajama pants come off in a few seconds, getting tangled somewhere under the bedsheets. You’re naked now, your most private and intimate parts pressed together. Minho’s hands grope your asscheeks, and as a reflex you grind yourself on him, making his hard cock throb and leak pre-cum. He smirks against your skin, and bites your lip.

“I love you,” Minho whispers on your lips as his fingers come to wrap around the base of his length, spreading his own arousal all over his tip. He lets his cockhead slide up and down your folds a couple of times, maybe more, and he’s surprised by how wet you are already. All for him. Ready to take him like he’s ready to have you.

“I love you, Min,” you whisper, and he pushes inside, breaching your walls deliciously.

He fills you up slowly, savouring the way your heat engulfs him wholly as his eyes flutter shut as huffs of air fall from his lips. He missed you, he missed you so much - that’s what he keeps thinking as he sinks into you over and over and over again, thrusting from underneath you, meeting the sweet rocking of your hips. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulls you even closer.

“Close… I missed having you so close to me… missed making love to you.”

Helping you move up and down his length slowly, the way it makes both your heads spin, it doesn’t take long before your orgasms start to build up. You sigh and breathe and pant on top of him, trying to keep as quiet as possible to not wake your neighbors up. Minho himself is trying to hold back the moans and whimpers that threaten to leave his lips - his chest rises and falls quickly, though. Minho pulls a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear, then cups your cheek as he stares into your eyes. You clench around him, hard and harder, until your whole body trembles.

“Min… Min,” you whimper, trying to focus on his movements solely as the tip of his cock brushes your g-spot with delicacy, “‘m close.”

“Baby… my sweet baby, cum,” Minho encourages you, and it’s enough to make you lose control, “let go for me.”

When you finish, it’s with a cry of his name, as your whole body shakes and trembles with force. Minho holds you tight as he continues to move inside of you, a few thrusts away from reaching his orgasm as well. A couple of precise and rough thrusts send him over the edge, and he’s quick to place his hands under your thighs and lift your hips, slipping out of your wet heat right before he spills his seed, finishing on his stomach instead. For a couple of seconds you’re confused about why he pulled out, but then you remember your conversation from a few weeks ago, and your face drops instantly, but you don’t let him see it. Instead, you quickly get up from the bed and run to the bathroom to grab Minho a warm towel to clean himself.

⛅︎

Chan had had an idea - babysitting. More specifically, you and Minho babysitting their baby so him and his wife could go out on a night date.

Bang Haneul is an utterly adorable baby. She’s got her father’s smile and his eyes, but the puffy cheeks are definitely her mother’s. She never really cries or whines, only when she’s hungry - and most of the time, she’d look at you and Minho with curious eyes, tilting her head to the side, probably wondering who you are, and where are her parents. She smiles at Minho when he sings to her, and even claps her little hands.

“She totally loves me,” Minho smiles at her, holding Haneul in his arms. He boops her little nose, earning a giggle from her. “I’m your favorite uncle, aren’t I?” He coos at her, “don’t tell me it’s uncle Binnie, please. He’s too loud, isn’t he?”

“You’re just as loud,” you chuckle, smiling at the sight before your eyes.

Minho glares at you playfully. “Pf, please,” he waves his hand at you as if you just said nonsense, “I’m her favorite uncle, I know that already. See the way she looks at me?”

“You fed her yogurt this afternoon, of course she loves you,” you roll your eyes at him.

“And a peach,” Minho adds, “mashed nice and well for this little princess,” he coos at little Haneul, and she giggles at him, patting Minho’s cheek with her small hand.

Minho would be an amazing dad - patient, loving, caring, and so thoughtful. You watch him in awe, from the floor where you’re sitting on Haneul’s play mat, surrounded by her colourful toys. Minho notices you’re staring at him, and he smiles back at you, as he carefully sits down next to you, with Haneul in his arms.

“You wanna go to aunty Y/N? Yeah?” He asks the baby as he watches her stretching her little arms in your direction as soon as you enter her peripheral vision.

Haneul’s eyes light up when you take her in your arms and smile at her. “Hi,” you coo at her, softly caressing her puffy cheek. Minho scoots closer, resting his head on your shoulder, where he leaves a kiss.

The precious and soft moment is interrupted by the sound of rattling keys and the front door swinging open. Naturally, it’s Chan and his wife. Haneul in your lap wiggles and squeaks as soon as she spots her parents, stretching her arms out to them.

“Hi, my baby,” Chan smiles brightly at her daughter, rushing to where the three of you are with open arms, ready to take her into his arms and hold her. “I’ve missed you so much, you know that? You missed me? You missed daddy?” He kisses his daughter’s forehead and nuzzles her cheek with his nose.

“Did she give you a hard time?” Chan’s girlfriend asks you, smiling at you as she sits on the couch.

You shake your head as a no, and Minho does the same. “Nope, not at all. She’s a true angel.”

“I wonder if baby number two is going to be so calm and peaceful, too,” Chan thinks out loud, glancing at his girlfriend’s stomach even though she’s barely showing.

“Sorry if we ruined your plans for the day by asking you to look after Haneul,” Chan’s girlfriend says, looking at you and Minho, “maybe you wanted to be alone tonight… Sorry if we asked you last minute, but my friend bailed on us last minute and we didn’t know who to ask.”

“Yeah, the rest of the boys was busy tonight,” Chan adds, “well, Jeongin and his girlfriend were technically free, too, but… I mean, they’re still babies,” he chuckles.

“Ah, it’s no problem, really,” Minho nods at his hyung, “we enjoy spending time with Haneul. She’s the cutest.”

“She really is, my cute baby,” Chan pouts, kissing his daughter’s cheek lovingly. “She looks just like her dad,” he jokes, looking at his wife with a mischievous grin.

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t even argue with him, he’s right. It’s not fair, though, I carried her for nine months and she looks like a carbon copy of her father,” she pouts, “I hope baby number two will look like me, at least a bit.”

“You know,” Chan starts, focused on playing with Haneul as she squeezes her father’s hand, “I read somewhere that if the first child is a boy, then he’ll look like his mother, and if she’s a girl she’ll look like her dad,” he says.

“How do you know it’s not just a casualty?” Minho asks his friend, genuinely curious.

“I don’t,” Chan shrugs, kissing the top of Haneul’s head. “Hey, why don’t you and y/n have a baby? We can test the theory,” he jokes, but both you and Minho freeze, “I think it’d make a great uncle, wouldn’t I?”

“Chan!” His wife scolds him. “Yah, mind your own business! You’re so nosy, aish…” she giggles.

“Hey, it was just a suggestion! Plus, I think Haneul would love a little cousin to play with, yeah?” He asks his baby, but she just raises her head to look at her dad confused.

And if either of them notices the way you and Minho are sitting there uncomfortably, with fake smiles plastered on your faces - they don’t comment on it.

⛅︎

The water feels warm on your skin, the perfect temperature. Yours and Minho’s clothes are scattered on the floor, his black socks are the last thing to reach the pile of fabric by the shower, and the next thing you know he’s opening the glass door, stepping inside right behind you. The water hits his body, rivulets running down his chest, back and legs - his hair is wet and stuck to his face. He wraps his arm around your waist, and you turn to face him. He smiles at you, tucking your wet hair behind your ear with his other hand, and then he leans in to kiss your wet lips. You both had a long day today, and really need to relax and blow some steam off - a hot shower is the perfect solution for that.

“You’re so cute like this,” Minho chuckles, “your hair looks funny.”

You narrow your eyes at him, smirking. Then you playfully slap his shoulder. “Cute? Funny? Your wife is currently naked in the shower with you. Aren’t I supposed to be, I don’t know, hot?”

“But you’re always hot.”

You roll your eyes at him, “kiss-ass.”

Minho chuckles. “I mean it! You’re always hot to me, but you’re also cute and funny. You’re, like, the whole package. I hit the jackpot with you,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I stand by what I said: kiss-ass.”

Minho chuckles, then he pulls you in for a kiss. You thought it’d be a quick peck, but you soon feel his tongue on your mouth. And then you feel something poke you, so you lower your head. “Oh.”

When you lift your gaze, Minho is smirking. “I told you I always think you’re hot.”

Sex in the shower is not something that happens too often between you and Minho, and it’s a shame. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as well, and he doesn’t hesitate to push your body against the wall delicately, making sure he doesn’t hurt you by softening the impact with his arms and hands. You whimper in his mouth, but it’s a whimper of pleasure. His length is rock hard between his legs, now pressed on your stomach, already leaking pre-cum because of how aroused he is.

“Need you,” Minho mumbles on your skin, kissing your neck, then your jawline and lowering his head until his kisses reach your collarbone, “need you now. Need to make you mine.”

“Take me. Minho, take me.”

Minho grunts. Then, he’s turning your body around so that he’s now facing your naked back. The palm of your hands are pressed against the cold tiles, and you hiss under your breath - but when you feel Minho’s hot lips start kissing your shoulders, you can’t bring yourself to care about anything else except him. Him and how much you crave his touch, to feel his hands on yours as he fucks into you slowly.

One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, where he draws imaginary circles with the pad of his thumb, while the other one slides between your slightly parted legs. Minho hisses and rests his forehead against your nape once he feels how wet you are already - and not because of the water. He plays with your sex - rubbing your clit gently at first, and then running his fingers up and down your folds. Meanwhile, he bites and sucks on the skin of your shoulders, pressing your body further against the tiles. You arch your back as you feel him slide his cockhead up and down your entrance, coating it in your wet arousal. He holds his breath as he penetrates you, excruciatingly slow. He bottoms out inside of you - until his chest is pressed flat against your back, and you feel his hot breath on your skin. He places one hand on your hip, and presses his other palm flat against the bathroom tiles.

“Feel so full,” you mumble, breathing heavily.

The warm water, Minho inside of you, his body all over yours - it all feels so intense, your head is spinning already and he’s barely moved inside of you, only giving a couple of thrusts to give you the time to get adjusted.

It’s primal, the way he presses your body against the wall as he fucks you nice and deep, slowly, allowing you to feel him completely inside of you in the intimacy of your shower, of your home. You sway your hips back and forth, meeting the movements of his hips. He’s not able to reach your g-spot perfectly from this angle, so he moves his hand from your hips to the sensitive spot between your legs - he’ll make you cum this way tonight. While rubbing your clit ever so gently, he nibbles your ear, and you can clearly hear him panting heavily.

“You’re so hot,” Minho compliments you, while continuing to thrust inside of you. “I want you all the time, it’s surreal. I’m so in love with you,” he rambles, the words falling from his mouth freely, automatically, “make me so hard.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you can feel your impending orgasm about to wash all over you. Minho knows exactly how to touch you, he always manages to make you cum so effortlessly. “Minho, I’m… I’m close.”

It always manages to make his head spin. He doesn’t change its pace, nor the direction of his movements on your most sensitive spot, and in a matter of seconds, your kicking your head back while calling his name desperately, releasing around him. Minho places his hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers with his as he chases his own orgasm, rutting his hips against yours. And just like the last couple of times you had sex, his intent is to pull out right before finishing - this time, you don’t let him.

“Don’t,” you beg, moving your arms behind your back to grab Minho’s ass, squeezing the flesh, “don’t pull out this time.”

Minho doesn’t really have a chance to ask you what’s going on, because as soon as he opens his mouth he’s cut off by his orgasm, that catches him completely off guard. Hearing you sound so desperate for him does it for him every time. He cums, filling you up to the brim - there’s so much of it that it begins to leak out of you, dripping down your inner thighs as Minho stays buried deep inside of you.

“‘M sorry, I… you caught me off guard, I should have-“ he starts rambling, but you interrupt him.

“Minho, stop,” you mumble, “I asked you not to pull out. It’s okay.”

“But you said-“

“I know what I said. But really, it’s okay. I wanted it.”

Minho nods, but part of him feels guilty nonetheless. Gently, he pulls out of you, stepping under the direct stream of water, that cleans him off of his own cum. You turn around to look at him and do the same, letting the water wash away the proof of his orgasm off your body. Minho quietly grabs the bottle of shampoo, squirting a generous amount on his hands.

“Turn around, jagiya. Let me take care of you.”

⛅︎

Dori’s behavior is weird today.

He hasn’t left your side since Minho left for work earlier - he’d remained by your side the whole time, mostly cuddled on your lap or sprawled on your stomach as you slept. And then he meowed every time you tried to get up, begging you with his little eyes to pick him up so he could be as close to you as possible.

And he’s resting in your lap even now, as you sit on the couch with your book in your hands, and has no intentions to get up, not even when he hears the sound of rattling keys - a clear signal that Minho’s home. Minho steps inside your place and Dori simply tilts his little head to the side.

“Daddy’s home, baby,” you coo at the small pet, patting his head, “go say hi. You missed him lots today.”

“He missed me?” Minho asks, sounding pretty confused. His pet doesn’t get up.

“Well, I thought so,” you put your book away, lifting your head to peck your husband’s lips. “Thought he could smell your scent on the t-shirt and it reminded him of you.”

Dori has the audacity to growl at Minho when he tries to pet him, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Seems like he hates me,” Minho giggles.

“That’s weird,” you think out loud, because when you try to pet him, Dori accepts the cuddles gladly, and purrs satisfied under Minho’s incredulous eyes and ears.

“Son of a-“

“Minho!” You scold him, covering Dori’s ears with your hands, “don’t be mean to my baby.”

“Well, your baby is an ungrateful little shit,” Minho chuckles, scratching Dori’s chin with his finger, and the cat glares at him almost as if he’d understood his owner’s words, “I change his litter and feed him and who does he love more? You.”

“It’s because I give him cuddles and treats when he behaves,” you point out, and Dori lets out a faint meow almost as if he’s agreeing with you.

“He’s just taking advantage of you because you’re too good to him, don’t trust him. Traitor,” Minho jokes, leaning in to kiss Dori’s little head. “‘M gonna take a shower and then we’ll think of something for dinner, hm?” He asks, and you nod.

He disappears upstairs, and you resume reading your book. Dori doesn’t move from your lap, instead he snuggles into your t-shirt and purrs, occasionally meowing to demand pets and more cuddles. You wonder what’s up with him, if maybe there’s something wrong with him or if he’s not feeling alright - but Dori doesn’t seem to be in pain.

“He’s been there the whole time?” Minho asks once he returns to the living room, surprised to see Dori still curled up in your lap. “Isn’t that weird?”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s not feeling well… maybe we should take him to the vet.”

“But he doesn’t look in pain or anything?” Minho pouts, kneeling down to look his cat in the eye. “Maybe he’s sad or something… maybe he just needs an extra amount of cuddles.”

“Let’s just wait a couple of days… if his behavior is still weird we’ll go to the vet,” you suggest, and Minho nods.

“Alright, boss,” he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. Then, he pecks your lips. “What do you want me to cook? Do omelettes sound good?”

“Yep, they sound perfect.”

Well, maybe they didn’t, because as soon as you get a whiff of their delicious smell, you feel the urge to throw up. Literally, you have to practically run to the bathroom and kneel before the toilet bowl, leaving behind a confused Minho, still sat at the dinner table. Eventually, he gets up and comes upstairs to check up on you, softly knocking on the bathroom door.

“Are you alright?” He asks you, preoccupied, as he spots you washing your face with cold water to freshen up, taking deep breaths. “Is there something wrong with my omelettes? Did I put too many onions?”

You shake your head as a no, limbs still trembling as you place your hands on the sink. “No, no, they were fine. I don’t know what’s up with me, I’ve been feeling nauseous the whole day.”

Hadn’t your period ended a week ago, Minho would’ve thought you were pregnant, but he knows that’s impossible. So he just comes closer to you, rubbing your lower back with his calloused hand, leaning in to kiss you on your temple.

“How are you feeling now? Better? Worse? Do you want me to make you some tea?” He asks you, and you smile warmly at him, moved by his apprehensiveness.

“A cup of tea is fine.”

⛅︎

You feel like you could pass out on the spot when Jeongin’s girlfriend, who’s younger than you and has only been dating her boyfriend for about four months, confesses she’s late. Late late. Like, her period’s late. Sixteen days, to be precise. She looks at you with her big, doe eyes, glistening with tears, begging for your help. She needs a friend, someone who listens, and you’re very close to her, even though you haven’t seen her much - she is kind of a younger sister to you.

“What? Are you and Jeongin having unprotected sex?” You blatantly ask her, staring at her with wide eyes, kind of shocked by the revelation. They’re too young to be having condomless sex, especially if she’s not on birth control or literally any other contraceptive.

The lowers her head in shame, even though you’re not angry at her. “It only happened twice, I swear,” she justifies herself, “we’d run out of condoms and didn’t think about the consequences. He didn’t… finish inside, though. He pulled out,” she tells you with a hint of hope in her voice, but you both know it’s not an effective method, and that therefore she could be pregnant.

“You have to take a test,” you sigh. “It might just be a pregnancy scare - my period’s late all the time, I was supposed to get it a couple of weeks ago, but you never know. The chances are pretty high.”

“O-Okay, okay,” she takes a deep breath, covering her face with her hands, “but I can’t do this alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“You… you said you’re late too. Take a test, too, unnie. It’ll be less scary to not do this alone.”

And you can’t believe that less than an hour later, once you and Jeongin’s girlfriend are finally back from the convenience store, you’re in your bathroom - actually peeing on a plastic stick, even though you already know what the result’s gonna be. Negative, as it always is. You already know it, but you take the stupid test anyway to help your friend feel less nervous. She’s already taken hers and places the stick inside the box, not ready to look at the result yet, and you do the same, not even realizing you’re putting your test in the same box as hers.

You only realize when the alarm goes off and it’s time to learn the results - that’s when you realize there’s absolutely no way you can tell which test is yours. And your jaw nearly drops once you take a closer look, because one test reads negative, but the other one…

“Positive.”

⛅︎

You’ve been lying in your bed all day, mostly scrolling through your social media dashboards - Dori in your lap as per usual, he’s glued to your side, when you hear the front door close downstairs. Minho’s home. You’d get up to say hi to him, but you feel so helplessly tired and literally can’t get out of bed. You hear him saying something to the cats, and when he pushes the bedroom door all the way open, he smiles brightly at you - Soonie in his arms and Doongie by his feet.

“Hi, jagi, how are you feeling today?” He asks you, sitting on the bed next to you. You haven’t been going to work for the past couple of days - you haven’t been feeling well, and Minho is kind of preoccupied.

“I’m doing better,” you smile at him, leaning in for a kiss, “feel tired, though.” Soonie gets off Minho’s lap, and he scoots closer to cuddle you in a spooning position, circling your waist with his arm, scratching Dori’s head when his hand accidentally bumps him. “Did you have fun today, with the boys?”

“Yeah, we… we had fun,” Minho nods, but doesn’t say much. You know he’s keeping something from you by the way he’s nervously fidgeting with his rings and picking at his skin.

“What aren’t you telling me?” You tease him, rolling to lie on your back, poking Minho’s dimple with your finger.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, with a dismissive gesture of your hand, “I know you like the back of my hand, I know something’s up with you. What happened? Something happened with the boys?”

“It’s nothing, really. You know the boys, they’re silly, they say things.”

“Which things?”

Minho sighs. “It’s stupid, really. Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

“Stop being so grumpy and just tell me already,” you insist, and Minho gives up.

“Fine,” he waves his hand. Then, he runs his fingers through his hair, unsure whether he should really be telling you what he’d learned mere hours ago. He really doesn’t want to bring up the topic, but you’re just so stubborn. “Jeongin told me something today, and it upset me.”

“What did he tell you?”

Another heavy sigh leaves Minho’s lips. “Him and his girlfriend had a pregnancy scare. She went to the doctor and found out she’s not pregnant, but he was pretty overwhelmed by the whole thing. I scolded him for not being responsible and for not having safe sex, and I don’t know… I guess it upset me.”

Oh. Oh. Jeongin’s girlfriend is not pregnant. She’s not pregnant. But the tests… one of them was positive… Wait, if she’s not pregnant, then… Your eyes widen immediately, and you abruptly sit on the mattress. You can’t be pregnant, though, you had your period this month… it could have been implantation spotting, though, if you really were pregnant, but what are the chances?

“I know you’re upset now, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

You shake your head as a no quickly. “It’s not that,” you mumble, getting up from the bed despite Dori’s upset meowing.

If Jeongin’s girlfriend’s not pregnant, then it means there’s a slight chance you and Minho… But it could also have been a fake positive. They’re pretty common, you read somewhere once. You rush to the bathroom, opening the third drawer quickly - the one where you keep your stash of pads and tampons and tests, to detect both ovulation and pregnancy. You have two of them. You’re gonna take them both, even though you try to remind yourself to not get your hopes up.

“Jagiya, what’s… what are you doing?” Minho furrows his brows, looking at you confused as he can’t take his eyes off of the two small boxes in your hands. “Are those…”

“I need to take these,” you tell him, voice trembling. “I was with Jeogin’s girlfriend the day she took the test. It’s a long story, and I promise I’ll tell you, but… if she’s not pregnant then there’s a chance…” you trail, looking at him with tears in your eyes.

“There’s a chance… you might be?” Minho asks, a new feeling of hope washing all over him as his heartbeat picks up its pace.

“Yeah,” you bite your lip, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

It’s been the longest three minutes of your entire lives. You and Minho are sitting on the bathroom floor with your backs against the shower glass in silence, too absorbed in your thoughts. Your fingers are intertwined as you wait for your alarm to ring. This could be your chance. This time, things could be different. When Minho’s phone buzzes, you feel as if your heart has stopped beating inside your chest.

You take a deep breath, shaking your head. “I can’t look. I can’t look, Min. You do it.”

Minho swallows the lump in his throat, feeling nervous - the most he’s ever been. He’s not ready for another negative surprise. Not when flashes of what your lives could be with a little bundle of joy passed before his eyes as he waited patiently for the results to be ready. “How… how about we do it together? I check one and you do the other one, at the same time,” he suggests, and it seems fair.

You nod, and Minho finally gets up, reaching for the two plastic sticks placed on the sink, turned upside down not to spoil the result. He grasps one, holding it firmly in his hand, and hands you the other one. Then, he sits back on the floor next to you.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he mumbles, kissing your temple.

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

You look at the result at the same time. You hold your breath, as tears well up in your eyes quickly. Before you can contain yourself, you burst down in tears - salty drops rolling down your cheeks. When you turn to look at Minho, his face is stained with tears as well, his lip is quivering, and then he shows you the stick he’s holding. It shows the same result as yours.

Positive. 8+ weeks.

You’re pregnant, you and Minho are going to have a baby.

“Come here,” Minho mumbles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as he rests his chin on your head, rubbing your arm with his hand.

You let the realization sink in - you can’t fully process what just happened, your brain can’t comprehend it yet. A baby. Your and Minho’s dream of a family is finally going to come true, you still can’t believe it, it doesn’t feel real.

“I love you so much, jagi,” he sniffles, kissing the top of your head, “‘m so happy right now…”

Before you could answer, you hear a loud meow coming from beside you, and that’s when you realize Dori’s here. He makes himself comfortable in your lap once more, and that’s when it all becomes clear to you.

“Dori, baby, did you… did you… have you been glued by my side because you could sense I’m pregnant?” Dori meows once more, then purrs, making himself comfortable on your lap - you take it as a yes.

“Aish, you little… your vet bill was so expensive for nothing and here you were, trying to tell us something…” Minho shakes his head, patting his cat and scratching his fur, chuckling, and you giggle as well, “thank you for being by her side when I wasn’t here, buddy.”

You stay like this for a while, in silence, with the tests still in your hands and Dori in your lap, hugging and holding each other, feeling blessed because you finally got the happiness you deserved.

⛅︎

Minho has always been affectionate with you, but ever since you found out you’re going to become parents in a few months, he just won’t leave your side.

Your OBGYN had confirmed what the tests had shown, announcing with a big smile on her face that yes, you’re pregnant, and that your baby is healthy and about the size of a bell pepper now, since you’re around twenty weeks pregnant. Minho called your baby “little pepper” until you found out the gender - a baby girl. Minho had bursted into tears in the doctor’s office when she delivered the news, and spent the day glued to you, hugging and holding you, his hands never leaving your round belly.

“How is my little sunshine? Did you miss daddy?” Minho starts talking to your bump as soon as he slips under the covers, kissing your lips first. “I’m sorry I had to leave, little sunshine. Daddy’s gonna quit his job when you’re here, I’m never leaving you,” Minho pouts, kissing your stomach and caressing it with his hand, “I missed you so much today, did you miss me too?”

Minho’s hand freezes on top of your bump, and his head snaps up in your direction at the same time as you lower yours when you feel a small kick - the first. His eyes glisten with tears, and so do yours. Your little sunshine just kicked for the first time after hearing her father’s voice.

“Jagi did you… did you feel it, too?” Minho asks you, pouting, “she just kicked. Her first kick.”

You nod, placing your hand on your belly as well, close to Minho’s. “I did, Min,” you sniffle. “Our sunshine really missed her daddy today, didn’t she?”

Another kick, much stronger now. Minho presses his lips on your belly, kissing it all over its surface as he feels his daughter’s delicate kicks, feeling absolutely and utterly in love - a love he didn’t think he’d be able to feel.

“My precious little sunshine, I missed you, too,” Minho kisses your stomach once again. And then he remembers - he gets up quickly and leaves the room only to come back in with his workbag, laying at the end of your shared bed. “I… I bought you something on my way home, sunshine,” Minho talks to your belly. You just look at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly bought your unborn daughter. “You won’t be able to see it for a few more months, though, but I hope you’ll like it.”

From the bag, he pulls out a small plushie - a white rabbit, with long ears and a mischievous grin. Oddly enough, it kinda looks like Minho. “Where did you manage to find a plushie that looks exactly like you?” You giggle, taking the small toy in your hands.

Minho just chuckles. “It’s cute, isn’t it?” He comments, looking at the plushie. “I just thought she might like it, you know? Maybe she’ll sleep with it, too, once she’s born,” Minho mumbles, once again placing the palm of his hand on your round belly.

“It’s cute,” you confirm, “I’m sure she’ll love it. Maybe we should sleep with it, so that it’ll have our scents once she’s born. It’ll make her feel safe.”

Minho smiles - a genuinely happy smile, and his eyes sparkle with joy. He nods, kissing your belly, hoping to feel his daughter kick one more time. She does. “I love you so much, sunshine,” he mumbles against your skin, “I can’t wait to meet you. We’re gonna have so much fun together, we’ll play so many games and go on lots of adventures - me, your mom, the cats and you, my baby.”

After a few more kisses and cuddles Minho gives to your belly, he lies down next to you on the bed, spooning you, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer as he buries his head in your neck. He kisses your shoulder, breathing in your delicate scent, holding the rabbit plushie close to your body, right on your belly.

“I’ll never thank you enough for this, you know that, right?” He mumbles, nuzzling your skin.

“Thank me for what?” You furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“All of this. For making me the happiest man alive, for carrying our precious and healthy baby girl. It’s pretty amazing if you think about it, isn’t it? There’s a life inside of you - our baby, our sunshine…”

“Minho…”

“I love you both so much, I can’t wait for our new life together to start.”

And all the pain you both went through is long forgotten now that he can finally fall asleep with you in his arms and his hand on your belly, dreaming of a future that, and he can’t put into words how happy he is, is just around the corner.

⛅︎

-> 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭��𝐞𝐦. 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

-> 𝐦𝐲 ☕️

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httpseiki · 7 months

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nice way to start my October heheheheee...

day 1 · 「sex gratia」

❝𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗?❞

➥ Boss!Minho x Girlboss Employee!Reader (f) — 2.6k

➥ The author chooses not to tag every single act to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

⚠ — Quid pro quo, morally corrupt characters.

➥ Your boss has never really doubted your skills, but he does think you’re so fucking hot when you’re angry.

The world of investment banking may have been cutthroat, but so were you.

You worked hard, for sure. You worked your ass off just to break the legs of the high horses these scotch-drinking, steak-eating, country club-frequenting smug motherfuckers were sitting on. To rub it in their faces that not only could a woman make it in their world, but also she could do it better than them. That being said, in order to get what they got, you had to play by their rules.

You didn’t end up where you were by making friends and being a vanilla goodie-two-shoes, which meant your understanding of professional ethics and morals loosened up over time like pants after Thanksgiving. So what if several hundred dollar bills appeared on some notary’s desk? So what if a little flirtation occurred during a negotiation lunch? All that mattered to your boss was that shit got done. He was actually very encouraging of your little misdemeanors as long as you brought those millions to your firm, and like the employee of the month you were, you listened to him.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he was hot as fuck.

Lee Minho was the youngest associate that ever made partner, and you may have been heavily thirsting behind his back ever since he stepped foot in here, much like the entire floor he was commanding. His sex appeal reached beyond his mesmerizing looks—it was the way he carried himself. The serious, mysterious aura around him, his brief manner of speaking, and the way he took no shit from people… He would cock a single brow when he was annoyed at somebody, and you would feel yourself get physically wet.

The power he held, jesus…

Nevertheless, you never made it obvious to him how weak he got you in the knees. If anything, you looked so convincingly unfazed by his presence that Minho wasn’t able to figure out why you weren’t throwing yourself at him like the literal rest of the company.

You knew it was annoying him a bit because his flirting was getting gradually aggressive with you, and this had become your singular source of entertainment lately.

Workplace seduction meant class. You would never be like one of those regular bitches openly salivating right in front of his face and stroke his already massive ego. He was going to get on his knees for you, or you didn’t want it at all.

And things were going pretty much on your terms until all the unholy thoughts you had about him turned into pure murderous intent with a company-wide email blast.

REF: Division 25 Appointment Starting October 1, Jennifer Pratt will serve as the new Division 25 head. Please fill out the form linked below for organizational flowchart restructuring.

Your blood went freezing cold before it turned into molten lava in your veins.

Division… 25… Your division… that you had been… waiting… for a promotion… to be the head of…

Who the absolute fuck was this Jennifer cunt anyway?! Was this one of Lee Minho’s side pieces? How come you had never heard of this person before? Was he fucking blind to your track record?

“Oh, hell to the fucking no.”

You immediately jumped from your desk, fuming out of your ears and ready to throw hands, and stormed into your boss’ office, not giving a single fuck about what he was doing inside. He could be talking to world leaders for all you fucking cared. Minho looked up from his laptop when his door banged open and witnessed his associate panting through her nose.

“By all means, you didn’t need to knock,” he put his pen down and held your gaze with sheer displeasure on his face.

“Mr. Lee, I’m so sorry!” his secretary dashed after you utterly apologetic, “I tried to tell her—”

“It’s okay, Yun. Please close the door and lock it from the outside,” he instructed in a dangerously calm tone. You didn’t even wait for the door to be fully closed before you started your confrontation.

“Can I have a fucking word with you?”

“You already are,” he reclined in his leather chair.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we, Mr. Lee?” you approached his desk and slammed your hands on it, “I want an explanation.”

“Since when do I provide explanations to you?”

“Since you took my goddamn promotion away from me,” you spat, not even paying any mind that he could, in fact, fire you on the spot, “You know how high my billables are. I’m the reason you moved into your ridiculously expensive condo!”

A very brief silence followed after your blaring declaration. All Minho did was raise his brows and break into the faintest of smiles.

“Didn’t know you were interested in my personal life to that extent,” he tilted his head and clasped his hands on his lap.

Busted.

Why the heck would you even bring that up? Now he was going to have ideas that weren’t exactly false, especially with your ‘unaffected’ façade loudly cracking.

“It’s not exactly classified information,” you stood tall on your feet, suddenly much calmer than your initial rampage, “Everybody’s talking about that.”

“Are you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine,” he crossed his legs into a more comfortable position, “How far are you willing to go for your promotion?”

“Excuse you?”

“If you want something from me, you need to give me something in return,” Minho shrugged, “How far are you willing to take it?”

It was at that moment that you knew you lost. Months of dragging him through hell, teasing him, verbally or accidentally physically, just to get him to kneel for you, but now he had the upper hand. On his face, there was the exact same smile you flashed him every time you scored a goal against him. You could either say fuck you and walk out, throwing everything you had ever worked for into the trash, or you could accept defeat and hand over this promotion to some cunt.

But there was a secret third option.

You knew it, he knew it, and he was smirking at you all satisfied, thinking he got you cornered whereas it just meant that the cost of getting what you wanted was to fulfill a raging fantasy of yours.

This wasn’t a doomsday scenario. It was fucking payday.

“You can’t deny there’s this thing between us,” Minho stood up and put his hands in his pockets, “Did you know every time we’re in the same room, they issue a DefCon 3 warning? It’s that dangerous.”

He started walking towards you with slow steps, staring you down the entire time. If he thought his intense gaze on you was supposed to be intimidating, he would be sorely mistaken. This was a lot more like torturous foreplay for you where he would deny you any contact until you forced him to touch you.

“Interesting. Every time we’re scheduled for a meeting together, you wear pencil skirts like this,” he stopped right behind you, “I can see the shape of your ass perfectly.”

Your eyes automatically closed when he stole a whiff from your hair and let out a content hum. You felt his hands on your waist and they started sliding down.

“Who told you I have a thing for g-strings?” he caressed your ass, his breathing seeping into your body down your nape, “Is everyone also talking about how I’m an ass man?”

“No,” you swallowed, hoping he wasn’t able to hear your pulse.

“So it’s your personal observation after seeing me drool over yours.”

Why, yes, it was. It didn’t take a genius to notice how he always checked you out when you walked past him, or when you dropped something around him, which happened way too often when you two were alone.

“What’s it gonna take for me to eat your pussy? Your promotion?” he breathily whispered into your left ear, “I just wanna watch how wet I get you. You know I do.”

“No.”

“Pity,” he tutted and let out a disappointed exhale, “In that case—”

“No, I’m going to watch you,” you finally turned around and faced him, “If I like what I see, you can eat my pussy.”

His lips parted in contentment. Too much of it. You could literally see all the mischievous lights flickering in his eyes.

“You should know, that hard-to-get thing you’re playing with me turns me the fuck on.”

“I know,” you subtly wrapped your fingers around his tie and started dragging him back to his chair.

You made yourself comfortable on the smooth surface of his desk as Minho sat down in front of you and spread his legs wide. His hard on was straining his slacks, and you couldn’t help the urge to drag your high heels around the outline of his cock. Minho’s hands were running up your legs and caressing them all over, but you stopped him before he could reach your thighs.

“Shh,” you pushed your heel on his chest, “Let me see you.”

He unbuckled his belt for you, eyes keenly focused on your impending reaction, and sprung his erection free. It was fucking impossible not to drool at his delicious girth, and you licked your lips out of complete instinct.

“You like what you see, huh?” he grinned, satisfaction in his voice palpable.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

All he did was stare into your eyes, and you were hypnotized. He slowly spread your legs as wide as he could and pressed his thumb on your underwear, just to feel some dense moisture on his skin.

“Then how come you are this wet if you don’t?”

There was no point in pretending you didn’t want to fuck this man’s brains out anymore.

Eyes still holding yours captive, Minho slid the piece of stained garment down your legs, and your skirt up your waist to put the sight he was yearning for on display. Your pussy, glistening with a thick coat of slick he was the cause of.

“Lick,” you commanded him firmly.

He buried his face between your legs and licked several long drags on your folds, then chuckled to himself.

“You’re dripping on my desk,” he briefly looked up at you again, “I’m never gonna clean this up, you know.”

Then his ministrations turned even more torturous. He wasn’t even licking you anymore—it was only the tip of his tongue touching your clit in frequent intervals.

“Stop teasing!”

“No,” he spread your lips further apart, “You told me to lick. I’m licking.”

You were getting so frustrated that you started rolling your hips on his face to get a bit more friction. It felt a bit too good, and you couldn’t control the volume of the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Shh, quiet,” Minho squeezed your thighs to warn you, “Do you want somebody to walk in on us?”

“If it’s Hyunjin, he’s welcome to join. I have three holes,” you shamelessly grinned at him, “Come on, give me more.”

Minho trapped your clit between his lips and gave it a strong suck before completely ceasing all stimulation.

“If you want more, I’m fucking you.”

“Not if I fuck you first.”

That was all it took. He basically jumped from his seat and aligned his cock with your dripping entrance, currently ruining some documents you were sitting on. His hands immediately held onto your ass to pull your body close.

“So… fucking… wet…” he groaned while he was sinking into you, “Did you want me that much?”

“As if you’re not rock hard and throbbing inside me right now.”

“I never once denied how much I wanted this pussy. You’re in my worst fantasies.”

Minho threw his head back once he bottomed out whereas your eyes were rolling back. Now you knew for a fact how fucking stupid it was not to fuck him any sooner.

Way sooner, for that matter.

“Oh fuck, this— It’s so— So fucking good!”

“Too full?” he grabbed you by the nape, “You can’t get this from the Hwang guy.”

Once he started moving inside you, his kisses quickly turned into a sloppy makeout session where you were biting into each other’s lips. His growls in your mouth were forcing you to clench around him.

“Do people also talk about how many surfaces I have in my new condo?” he panted against your lips.

“No?”

“A lot, and I wanna fuck you on all of them. You’ll leave a trail of cum everywhere,” he shoved three of your fingers inside his mouth and licked all over them, “Rub your clit for me.”

The space Minho gave you to comfortably pleasure yourself allowed him to see your torso better. He started salivating at how your tits were bouncing in your blouse, and he loosened a couple of your buttons in a rush to free them. To fondle them. To suck on them to his heart’s content.

“Call me Minho. I wanna hear you moan my name.”

When he latched his lips on your neck, leaving open mouth kisses everywhere like a vampire’s last chance for survival, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself even if you wanted to.

“Minho!”

“Just like that,” he inhaled your lips again, “Ride it, baby. Take what you need from me.”

You squeezed his jaw between your thumb and index fingers, then started declaring your demands.

“You’re gonna give me my promotion.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re gonna increase my commission rate.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re gonna give me an expense account.”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you’re gonna eat my pussy whenever I want. Day or night.”

“Sit on my face in a board of directors meeting for all I care. Total free use for you,” he gritted his teeth, “but you’re going on at least one date with me.”

You inadvertently laughed and kissed him. As you were melting in each other’s mouths again, Minho found a delicious fucking spot inside you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you leaned on the desk to support yourself and started rubbing your clit fervently to your climax, “Hit that hard. Faster. Faster!”

When you finally snapped, you clenched so hard around Minho that it forced him to cum. He rode out both your orgasms at a declining pace, and his movements eventually came to a halt. He stole one last kiss from you before pulling out, then snagged a couple of wet wipes suspiciously sitting on his drawer to clean you up.

“You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m gonna let this go,” you declared while putting your underwear back on, “That promotion is mine.”

Minho sighed in exasperation as he buckled his belt, then buttoned your blouse for you.

“It’s fake,” he emphatically uttered, but all you gave in return was a blank stare.

“What is?”

“The announcement you threw a tantrum about,” he sat back on his chair, “We’re doing phishing tests. You should learn to check your incoming email extensions.”

You had done quite a few pretty impulsive and stupid things in your life, but never once did you feel like an utter dumbass like you were feeling right now.

“So the promotion was…”

“There’s no Jennifer Pratt. It was yours all along.”

You felt played. It wasn’t even played; you felt scammed, but you weren’t able to help your laughter anyway. Minho laughed along with you, then asked you the question he was after all along.

“So do I pick you up at 8 on Saturday, or what?”

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

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httpseiki · 7 months

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nooo, that was so minho of himmm!!! 😭😭😭

LOWKEY — lee minho

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff, friends with benefits!au word count: 10k warnings: 18+ mdni. fingering (f. rec), semi-public sex, oral (m. rec), kitchen sex lol, unprotected sex, praise kink, overstimulation, this is my attempt at writing smth NOT laced w humor please bear w me ok... its a hard life trying not to be funny </3

summary: catching feelings for lee minho was inevitable from the start. falling for him is as easy as breathing, but how are you supposed to let him know how you feel when you spend more time fucking him than talking to him? OR, the only thing you're more scared of than losing minho is loving him.

"Minho—" you pant. "We're—mmph—we're going to g-get caught."

"Not if you shut up."

He tightens his grip on your hair, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail at the base of your neck.

"That's not fair," you hiss, but the tail end of your sentence breaks off in a moan as his fingers curl upwards inside you. "—Oh, right there."

"Yeah?" Minho mutters, and the rasp of his voice—calm and collected and outlined with just the tiniest bit of ego—is so hot you can't stop yourself from clenching around his fingers.

"And what's not fair, exactly?"

The answer to that question is so easy it is laughable. The words are on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill over: it's not fair that you are so weak for him. That just one look melts you into a puddle, that just one touch sets you alight.

It's not fair that you can't resist him no matter how hard you try (and oh, have you tried.)

Instead, your response is only one word.

"You."

The single syllable slips from your lips right as Minho lays an open mouthed kiss on your pulse point, tugging your hair to the side and baring your neck to him for better access.

His mouth is wet and hot and he flicks his tongue out against your neck. You bite your lip and inhale but remain silent otherwise.

A moment later, he licks a long stripe down your feverish skin in retaliation.

"Really?" Minho raises a brow, his words vibrating against the curve of your throat. "Should I stop, then?"

Inside of you, his fingers come to a painful halt. The loss of movement is visceral, but you are determined to make sure he doesn't know just how frustrated you are, and so you bite your lip hard to remain silent.

"Doesn't matter to me," you say breathlessly.

If this had been a few weeks ago, you probably would have already been begging him to fuck you however he wanted to. If this had been a few weeks ago, your mind would have been blank and your senses would have been overloaded.

But it's not. By now, you've hooked up with Minho countless times—by now, you are in so deep that you aren't willing to (can't) let him know just how much of an effect he has on you.

And so, resolutely, you remain silent.

Still...

You can just imagine how the two of you look right now. Minho, pressing you against the wall in this dark corridor, his body flush against you, his fingers inside you, his mouth against your neck.

Your hands are clinging to his shoulders, your skirt is flipped up, and your skin is so flushed from pleasure and pain both that you think you might pass out soon if he doesn't hurry up.

It's lewd, the way that the image only makes the whole thing hotter. Especially when you weren't supposed to end up like this in the first place.

Downstairs, you can hear the muffled thump of some awful EDM music from the party below. You are supposed to be down there. Today was supposed to be the day when you—finally—were able to think with your head instead of your pussy and actually, truly, be strong enough to resist Lee Minho.

But then he walked into the party with his mischievous smirk and those sinfully tight vinyl pants that he knows you love, and, well... You were a goner.

You didn't even try to resist when, a few hours later, he grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you up the stairs. Not when he pushed you up against the wall and pressed his lips against yours, and definitely not when he hiked your skirt up and slid two fingers inside of you.

It was pathetic, how easily Minho could get you to fold. His hold over you was rapturous, and frankly, rather worrying, considering that the two of you were nothing more than friends that fucked sometimes.

"Doesn't matter?" Minho asks. The look on his face is a familiar one, and the competitive gleam sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

The two fingers inside of you remain frozen, but then he lifts his thumb and without warning, presses hard on your clit.

"Oh."

You are unable to stop the breathy moan that slips past your lips, and the satisfied curve of his mouth lets you know that he definitely heard it.

"Hmmm," he muses, and then his fingers are moving once again. His thumb remains on your clit, rubbing tight and precise circles until you see you stars.

Despite your best efforts, your breathing stutters, coming out faster and deeper as pleasure branches outwards through your body.

"I think it does," Minho breathes in your ear.

"No-oh," you shake your head.

His smirk widens as your eyes begin to droop. You don't even have to know what you look like to know you look absolutely fucked out right now—but the longer he continues his skillful ministrations, the less you find yourself caring about standing your ground.

He is just so good with his hands. He smells perfect and feels perfect and is perfect, and the closer he brings you to your orgasm, the less it seems to matter that you have feelings for the man knuckles deep inside of you.

"Are you gonna cum for me, baby?" He asks, and the goading curve of his voice makes the words sound like a taunt, like a challenge.

Stubbornly, you refuse to submit.

"M-maybe," you breathe out.

By now, you are gripping his forearms for support, and his hand in your hair drops to your waist, pulling you even closer to you while simultaneously supporting some of your weight. Underneath you, his fingers continue to work you open with precision that has your thighs quavering.

"And what if I don't want you to cum?" Minho meets your unwavering gaze with his own, moving his thumb quicker against your clit still.

The words are a cruel suggestion, and yet accompanied with the heated look in his eyes, they send a shot of arousal straight to your core. You clench around his fingers once more, and he inhales sharply.

"I-I'll find someone else t-to help, then," you say, but the words hold no real threat. You and Minho both know that you would never, and yet his gaze still narrows at the thought.

"I don't think so," he coos, his dark eyes an unmistakable juxtaposition to his sweet tone.

And then his lips are on yours, devouring you in a messy kiss that is mostly tongue, but some teeth too. The passion in the kiss takes your breath away, and your brain short circuits as his fingers speed up, hooking upwards just right to brush against your spongy g-spot.

Simultaneously, his mouth trails down from the corner of your lips to the column of your neck, and the sensation overload is too much for you. This time, despite your best efforts, you can't stop the moan that slips past your lips.

"Who else can make you feel this good, hmm?" Minho asks, punctuating his words with a particularly vicious thrust of his fingers.

You can tell your high is cresting closer and closer, and the sheer pleasure makes it hard for you to find your words.

His teeth nip at your neck, sucking a deep purple bruise into your skin as the pad of his thumb continues to rub hard and fast against your clit.

"Answer me," Minho says lowly.

You shake your head instead, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as a whine builds in the back of your throat.

"I asked you a question, Y/N." His voice is dangerous, the threat clear when he digs his thumb unforgivingly against you.

"N-No one," you choke out, clenching around his fingers once more. "Only... O-only you."

"That's what I thought."

He is satisfied by your answer, if the movement of his fingers are anything to go off of.

"M-Minho," you pant, your eyelids sliding fully shut. "I-I—"

"Fuck," he groans under his breath, the wet sound of his fingers getting louder and louder.

"I'm s-so close," you whimper.

"I know, baby." His voice sounds strangled, and the thought of how hot he must look right now is the only thing that gives you the strength to open your eyes.

Minho's brow is furrowed in concentration, his face drawn taut as he continues to work his fingers in and out of you. The determination inscribed on his face is even hotter than you imagined it would be. Even outside of the bedroom, it is one of your favorite things about him.

The reminder of it now, however, makes this—a simple quickie at some random party—somehow feel that much more intimate, and it sends a weird pang through your chest.

"Come for me," he whispers then, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looks up at you with his wide, blown-out brown eyes.

And that—that is what finally sends you over the edge.

"Mmph!" With a muffled whimper, your orgasm hits you, and Minho groans unabashedly at the clenching of your walls around him.

His fingers fuck you through your high, and the entire time, his eyes remain firmly on yours. The desire in his gaze is evident even through the haze of bliss, but there is an undercurrent of something more there, too—something that you don't quite pick up until the after effects of the orgasm have worn off and he is sliding his fingers out of you.

There is something tender about the way he sets you down gently, smoothing your skirt down and patting your hair until it looks less like he finger-fucked you in a dark hallway and more like he was trying to show you where the bathroom is.

But when you look up at him, his face is blank, and you are reminded once again that this isn't special, that he has probably done this countless times before. After all, Minho could have anyone he wanted—in fact, he probably has at some point.

The arrangement between the two of you is just convenient, and there isn't anything more to it. Not for him, anyways. In this equation, you are the sole outlier, the only actual problem.

"Can I..." Your voice trails off, hoarse and slightly awkward in the muffled silence of the hallway.

Your eyes are glued to Minho, watching as he adjusts himself in his pants.

"Can I help you with that?"

You already know the answer before he says it.

"Nah, 'm good," he says easily, a loose smirk on his lips as he runs a hand through his hair. If it wasn't for his blown-out pupils, you would have thought that you didn't affect him at all.

Still, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach anyways.

His words echo inside your head, and you're sure that he must have figured out the way you feel about him. When you first started sleeping together, Minho had been obsessed with your mouth. Nothing quite got him off the way that you, on your knees in front of him did.

But recently, he has been staunchly rejecting your advances, and you can't think of an answer for why, except one: that he must know that you are in love with him, and he doesn't quite know how to let you down easy.

And, despite how much the thought hurts, you can't quite blame him for it. After all, when you both started this whole thing months ago—on a night with a few too many shots and a scandalously tight dress—the terms had been clear: that this was just sex, nothing more.

You and Minho had never been particularly close; in fact, before you started fucking, you were barely friends. You just happened to run in the same circles, and your best friends somehow ended up also being his best friends.

That is exactly why, after the first time you slept together, the first thing you agreed on was that things would end the moment feelings got involved. Anything that compromised your mutual friendships wasn't worth it, you both concluded.

Except, somehow, feelings got involved for you anyways, and you didn't do anything to stop it.

Which is why, after all this time of shoving down how you feel about Minho, you are left with only one choice.

"Minho," you say quietly after a moment. "I think we should stop doing this."

He pauses where he is straightening out his shirt, his hands frozen in place on the hem of his top. A moment passes. Two.

Then he looks up at you, his expression painfully devoid of any emotion.

Here is the thing: Lee Minho has always been a mystery to you, impossible to read in most circumstances, and difficult to unravel in the rest. But throughout the past few months, you thought you were slowly worming your way past his hard exterior, maybe even learning the puzzle pieces that consist of the real him.

The impassive look on his face, however, tells you otherwise.

And then, finally, he opens his mouth and simply says, "okay."

It is just a single word. One straightforward, lonely word.

And yet, it feels like an arrow through your chest. Your reaction is physical, visceral, as goosebumps trail down your arms and the blood thrums viciously through your ears.

This is what you wanted. This is what you needed—to end things right here, before you could fall any deeper, and for Minho to accept it with no questions at all.

This is what you wanted... So why does it feel like your heart has been cracked in two?

Maybe the third bottle of soju wasn't the brightest idea.

Maybe letting Jisung bully you into coming out tonight, after endless days spent moping alone, wasn't the brightest idea.

Maybe, in fact, fucking Lee Minho and then promptly falling in love with him wasn't the brightest idea.

Then again, you never were one for bright ideas. That is why it is no surprise that, two weeks after you end things with Minho, you find yourself shoved between Felix and Jisung at your favorite barbecue place as you down yet another shot.

The alcohol-induced haze of the night blurs the edges of your vision and your face sports a healthy, fuzzy flush, but no amount of alcohol is enough for you to ignore the elephant in the room with you.

The elephant being, of course, Lee Minho himself.

You had been proud of how diligently you managed to avoid him over the past week. Sure, it is kind of hard to run into a person when you hardly leave your bedroom, but still, the fact stood: you hadn't seen Minho since the party. It had been wishful thinking, hoping that you would be able to avoid him forever.

And yet, you still didn't think it would happen this soon. You hoped beyond all hope that you would be able to avoid seeing him for at least however long it would take for you to sort out your stupid little feelings for him. Then, things could go back to normal. Or, at least as normal as things could be.

The scheme was perfect, too—you and Minho had never been friends anyways, so it wouldn't be suspicious if you two suddenly weren't on speaking terms anymore. And none of your friends knew about the arrangement (aka fucking each others brains out) so it wouldn't make much of a difference to them now that it was over.

Except, in your endless consideration of how to navigate the aftermath, you forgot to take into account one very important factor: Han Jisung.

And perhaps it was stupid of you to think that Minho wouldn't be here tonight. But when Jisung basically dragged you out of your apartment, telling you that the guys were already at the restaurant waiting—well, you missed actual human interaction just enough to forget that wherever Jisung goes, so does Minho.

Which is how you ended up here—sat as far away from Minho as humanly possible, absorbed in some conversation with Felix about his most recent gaming obsession.

"Okay, that's enough of that," Jisung declares drunkenly, his eyes narrowed in on you.

His cheeks sport a warm flush, and his jacket has been abandoned on the back of his chair. The exposed biceps tell you one thing: he's well on his way to full-on drunk mode. If you were a little less absorbed in your own despair, you would have been worried about where he was going to end the night; but you aren't, and so all you can do is raise an eyebrow at him.

"When are you going to tell me what's been going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" You ask, your voice sounding much more level than you feel.

"Something's been off lately," Jisung frowns, "and I was trying to be a good friend, y'know, waiting for you to come to me first and tell me what it is, but it's been weeks!"

"Off?" You laugh awkwardly.

"Off?" Jisung mocks, his face scrunching up as he glares at you. "Yes, off! What the fuck is going on with you?"

"Nothing, Ji," you roll your eyes.

And then, because you can't help it, your eyes drift over to Minho. It is only for a split second, but his attention is focused completely on his food and he doesn't notice.

Not for the first time tonight, your heart clenches.

"I don't believe you," Jisung declares.

"Work's just been a bitch," you sigh. "But seriously, I'm fine. A little tired, but that's all..."

His expression twists in distrust, but there must be something written on your face that even he recognizes, because he decides not to push it any further.

That, or he's reached the point of the night where he starts to lose object permanence and he simply can't see your face anymore.

"Lee Minho, I didn't know you still remembered us," A boisterous voice drags the attention away from you.

Hyunjin, another one of your mutual friends, stumbles over to where Minho is, a bottle in his hands and a playful pout plastered across his face.

"Sorry, who are you?" Minho grins at him, and it is both the first time you have heard him speak and the first time you have seen him smile in two weeks.

It should be criminal, the way your heart flutters at such a simple act.

"Shut up," Hyunjin flops down in the empty chair next to him. "Feels like I haven't seen you in forever."

You want to look away, but it's the first time that Minho has glanced up all night, and now that Jisung's attention has been captured by Changbin, you find that you simply cannot.

"It's been, like, a week," Minho points out.

"It's been two, actually," Hyunjin complains. "You cancelled dinner with me last Friday, so we haven't seen each other since Chan's party."

Minho is silent for a moment. You wonder if he's thinking about what happened at that party—if he's thinking about the dark hallway, his fingers inside of you. If he's thinking about you at all.

He barely even takes a breath, and you think for a moment that he might finally turn and look at you.

But then, the corner of his mouth turns upwards in a smirk.

"I didn't know you were this obsessed with me, Hwang," he teases. "If you want my attention, all you have to do is ask."

"Shut up," Hyunjin says again. "Stop it, I'm mad at you! You barely even said hi to me that night before you disappeared to God knows where. Where's the love and appreciation for your friends, huh? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"When has Minho ever apologized for ditching you for a girl?" Seungmin interrupts from a few chairs down.

A scandalized gasp escapes Hyunjin's lips and your eyes shoot down to the table immediately, embarrassment searing through you.

Nobody knows that you are the girl Seungmin is talking about, and yet you can't help but feel like he has just turned on a glaring spotlight and shined it directly onto you.

Before you can think twice, you pour yourself another shot and throw it back.

"You abandoned me for sex?" Hyunjin screeches, smacking his arm.

"I did not," Minho denies.

And, well, technically it's true. After all, it wasn't anything more than a little fingering in a dark hallway.

"Yeah," Seungmin snorts. "That's why he didn't come home until the next morning."

Or... is it true?

Just because he didn't have sex with you doesn't mean that he didn't have sex at all...

Maybe, in fact, after you left him high and dry, he decided to try his luck with someone else. It wouldn't have been hard to find someone willing—not when he's Lee fucking Minho.

The thought of him caring so little about you makes your stomach turn violently. You were never exclusive, so he was never obligated to only hook up with you, and yet you find that you can't stomach the idea that he chose someone else anyways. That he didn't even hesitate after you ended things pierces you like a bullet, and your next few breaths come out shallow.

This time, you can't stop yourself from staring at him. You're waiting for him to deny it—waiting for him to tell Seungmin to stop fucking around, for him to say something, anything.

Instead, he remains painfully silent, which is all the answer you need.

"You bitch," Hyunjin says, but his voice fades into the background as you try to process the slew of emotions this revelation brings.

And then, for the first time all night, Minho looks up at you.

It's just for a second, if even that, but it is enough to push you over the edge. His buttery gaze is just as it always is—wide and curious, and you feel like you can't breathe.

Abruptly, you push your chair back and stand up.

"What...?" Jisung slurs through his drunken haze, a confused sort of concern on his face.

"I need some air," you tell him. "Feeling a little stuffy in here."

"Want me to come with?" He offers immediately, but the way he sways in his seat makes you wonder if he's even capable of standing, let alone walking.

"I'm fine," you assure him. "I'll be back in a few."

And then, before someone can stop you, or worse, before you implode, you stride towards the exit of the restaurant.

Despite being the middle of summer, the outside air is surprisingly cool. The low buzz of the city at night normally calms you, yet you find yourself feeling only slightly less suffocated than you had only moments before.

Your mind is as it has been for the past few months: occupied by thoughts of the one person you've been trying so desperately to forget.

God, you wish someone would knock some sense into you.

What's so special about Lee Minho, anyways? It's not fair that just one look at him sends your heart racing and your mind spiraling, that just one look from him makes you wish the ground would swallow you whole...

With a sigh you slide down into a squat, gripping the strap of your purse tightly as you take a deep breath.

You didn't think that you had drank that much, but the sudden movement has your head spinning. Your brain feels squeezed tight, your skull feels stuffed with cotton balls, and when you blink slowly, the world looks a degree warmer than it had before.

"You okay there?"

And of course, you have reached the point of drunkness where the familiar timbre of his voice that has haunted your dreams for the past few weeks is now haunting your every waking moment.

Two and a half soju bottles must be just the correct amount for your brain to conjure up an image of Lee Minho for you.

"Go away," you mutter, annoyed that even your subconscious was unable to let go of him.

"No thank you."

"You're talking too much," you pout. "I don't like it."

"Sorry," fake-Minho responds with a laugh, and you pout even more thinking about how real-Minho would have laughed at you if he could see you too.

"You should be," you say.

You sway where you are squatting, caught off guard by how light you feel. Alcohol has always had a tendency to exacerbate your clumsiness, and, well—let's just say your sense of balance isn't that good to begin with.

"Woah," fake-Minho says, and then a hand is on your back, steadying you.

"Seriously, are you okay? Should I get you water or something?"

"What...?"

It takes a moment for the warmth of his skin to register. Almost belatedly, your gaze snaps upwards to the man towering over you.

Because right there, looking as perfect as he always has, the real Minho stares down at you, concern furrowed between the ridges of his brow.

"O-Oh my god," you scramble backwards.

Embarrassment colors your cheeks even as Minho bends down to your level. He reaches for you, as if to offer assistance, but at the last moment pulls away.

"Y/N," hesitancy drips from his voice, and it kills you just how delicious your name sounds falling from his lips.

"I-I'm fine!" You insist, suddenly feeling more sober than you had only moments ago.

Somehow, in your rush to get away from him, you manage to push yourself up from the ground without his help. Your back feels exceptionally cold and you try to ignore the absence of his touch as you stand up straight.

"Okay," Minho says, his voice level as he pushes himself up too.

A moment of silence passes as you try to calm your racing heart. What, exactly, is the correct way to act when interacting with a former fuck buddy who you just so happen to be hopelessly in love with? You would love to know the answer to that.

"S-So," your voice comes out shrill and you wince. "How have you been?"

"Good," Minho nods. "What about you?"

"Yeah, me too."

A crisp breeze ripples through the night air and your grip on your purse tightens.

You can't look at Minho—even the thought of it is overwhelming, and so your gaze focuses on the street as cars pass by. Inside the restaurant, a round of laughter trickles out to you. You wish you were there with them.

"I—" You begin, your brain desperately scheming for ways to get as far away from Minho as quickly as possible.

"That night," he clears his throat, interrupting you. "After you—left. I didn't... I didn't hook up with anyone else."

Far away, the angry sound of a car horn reaches your ears.

"Right," you nod, not really understanding the words coming out of his mouth. "Um. You don't need to, like, justify yourself."

It's a herculean effort to keep your tone steady, to try and sound uninterested even as your stomach turns violently.

"I just wanted you to know that," Minho says, his dark eyes focused on you.

"Okay."

Why is he telling you this? You want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. You want to yell at him until he leaves you alone. You want to pull him close and beg him to kiss you.

Instead, you roll your shoulders back and purse your lips.

"Well," you try to make yourself sound more cheery than you feel. "It was nice seeing you. I think I'm going to go home now—woah!"

Your efforts to seem cool and collected are ruined when you take a step forward on wobbly knees that decide now is the perfect time to give out. And of course, in a horrible stroke of luck, Minho somehow manages to anticipate your stumble before it happens.

In only a split second, he's right in front of you, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern shining in his eyes.

You waste no time in shoving him off of you, brushing his question off.

"Well, let me take you home at least," Minho says finally.

"No!" You exclaim sharply. "I'll be fine on my own!"

He raises a brow. "Really?"

"Yes," you insist. "Jisung can take me home. You don't have to worry."

"Don't be silly," Minho rolls his eyes. "Jisung is so drunk he can't even stand."

One glance into the restaurant is all the confirmation you need to know he is telling the truth. At the table, Jisung is slumped over and can barely lift his head, even as Changbin continues to badger him.

"Just let me walk you home. Please? If not for your sake, then for mine," Minho implores.

His earnestness is clear, and it is like he knows that you have never been able to say no to him—that, likely, you never will.

"...Fine," you say finally.

Minho's shoulders sag in relief, and the tentative half smile that forms on his face is enough to take your breath away.

You turn quickly, determined not to let yourself spiral any deeper.

The only saving grace of the night is that Jisung, in all his glorious idiocy, actually chose a restaurant close to your apartment. Minho remains quiet the entire seven minute walk back, maintaining a precise pace exactly half a step behind you.

Every time you stumble (more than you care to admit), his hand hovers over your back, ready to catch you, but other than that, it is like he isn't even there.

The alcohol running through your veins makes the journey simultaneously quick and also horribly, painfully long. You can't tell if you have been walking for ten minutes or for ten hours by the time you finally arrive in the lobby of your apartment building.

"Well," you say awkwardly. "Thanks... for walking me home."

"Of course," Minho nods. "Text me when you get up?"

"Right."

That's not going to happen because the first thing you did after you ended things with him was block his number, but you don't tell him that.

The walk towards the elevator is excruciating because of the way his eyes bore holes into your back. All you want to do is turn around, just for one last look at him.

A deep breath leaves you when you remain resolute, and you press the button for the elevator. Except, where it would usually light up, it remains dark.

You press again, and then one more time. Dread rises in your stomach, and when you look up, a big red-lettered "out of service" sign greets you.

"Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Minho asks.

"Elevator's broken," you squeeze out, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sense of panic swells inside of you—how are you supposed to get home now? You could barely walk here. Climbing the four flights of stairs to your apartment seems the wrong side of possible.

Minho reaches the same conclusion at the same time. His gaze lingers on the elevator and then to you as you chew on your lip, contemplating how long it would take you to sober up like this.

Then he crouches down next to you.

"What—?" You begin, noticing the way he hunches over.

"Get on."

Your jaw drops.

"N-No—"

"Are you going to be difficult again," he sighs, craning his neck to look at you. "Or are you going to listen to me and get on?"

If you were a little less drunk, or if his gaze had been a little less piercing, maybe you would have been able to refuse.

Instead, you purse your lips tightly and you do as he says, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Good," he says, his tone soft and satisfied.

Even in your drunk haze, the single word sends electricity through your entire being. Trying to ignore it, you rest your cheek against his back and relish the feeling of his warmth.

Minho adjusts his grip on your legs, pulling them closer so they wrap around his hips, and the reminder of just how strong he is doesn't do anything to help your situation.

While keeping your distance from him, you were able to deny the visceral effect Lee Minho has on you. In your lowest moments, you were even able to fool yourself into thinking you never cared about him in the first place.

But with him this close, with the scent of him in your knows and the heat of him underneath you, it's undeniable. The soju in your brain and the man carrying you up the stairs to your apartment are confusing enough to cross the wires in your brain.

The only thing you know clearly enough is that you want to hold on tightly and never let go. Your eyelids slide shut, and you decide to savor this moment—no matter how short it is.

"Y/N," Minho murmurs, coming to a stop. "Where are your keys?"

"Purse..." You mumble, not making any move to grab them.

You feel the sensation of him reaching behind, rummaging through your bag, and then the click of a lock echoes.

Beneath your cheek, the soft sound of his breath is like a lullaby. In, out, in, out.

A door opens and then closes, and the familiar scent of your apartment invades your senses. You burrow further into Minho's neck, clinging onto the fading scent of him.

His breath stutters, but you hardly notice as a hum of contentment bubbles up in your chest.

Another door opens and the sound of bare feet padding across carpet fills the room. Then the soft cushion of your mattress appears beneath your legs as he lowers you onto your bed.

"You've got to let go of me," Minho whispers when you cling onto him.

You shake your head, squinting into the darkness of the room. Only a small lamp illuminates the space, casting a warm glow across his face as he looks down at you.

"C'mon," he coaxes, gently prying your fingers apart.

Too hypnotized by the tenderness of his expression, you let him unwrap your arms from around him and lay you down. Your eyes remain on him as he fluffs your pillow and pushes it under your head, before pulling your blanket over you.

Your hand wraps around the edge of the duvet as he trails out of your room. The sound of him rummaging around in the kitchen echoes, then the sound of the tap, and finally Minho appears again.

Your heartbeat kickstarts again at the sight of him, and you want to kick yourself. You feel light and floaty as exhaustion sets in and your eyelids grow heavier. Still, you keep them open, if only to stare at him for a little bit longer.

"I'm going to leave some water here for you," Minho says. "Make sure to drink it."

"Uh huh."

He looks like an angel as he speaks to you, his voice soft.

"Text me or call me if you need anything."

"Yup." The words go in one ear and out the other as you find yourself enraptured by the curve of his jaw, the swoop of his hair, the swell of his lips.

He lifts his hand, as if reaching towards you, but freezes. The cogs in his brain whir almost loud enough for you to hear, even as he slowly lowers his hand again.

"Well..." Minho says, taking half a step back. "Good night."

He turns around and your heart stops. You hardly think as you reach out, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

"Don't go."

He seizes, as if your word have struck every crevice of his body.

"What?"

"Can't you..." you mumble as a strange ache hollows out your chest. "Can you stay with me?"

"Y/N..."

"I know I'm the one who said we should stop..." You whisper. "But... Just this once."

"You're drunk," he says softly, his back still towards you.

"Please?"

He inhales a deep, shuddering breath that wracks his entire frame.

"I'm not going to fuck you while you're drunk," he says tightly.

The words pierce your heart, send a cold chill through your veins as you process them.

"I—no," your voice cracks. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"I'm cold," you whisper instead.

"I'll bring you a blanket."

"Minho..." His name falls from your lips like a plea.

The room freezes for a moment and you can hear his breaths as clearly as if your cheek was still pressed against his back.

Blood thrums through your ears—you shouldn't have asked him that. You shouldn't have said anything, really, but the alcohol...

Well, now you aren't even sure you can blame your actions on that.

The silence swells, a tidal wave just waiting to break, and right as you are about to take your words back, Minho turns around to face you. His face is a watercolor mural of uncertainty and something else you can't quite place.

Still, he takes a deep breath and slowly walks towards the other side of the bed. When he sits down and stretches his legs out, his movements are almost robotic. His body remains stiff and on top of the duvet.

Your breath hitches a moment later when he lays his arm hesitantly over your waist. It barely touches you, as if he is making a conscious effort to hold it up.

"Better?"

You nod.

The duvet is thick enough that if you try hard, you can pretend like this isn't as intimate as it seems. You can pretend that you can't feel his body heat radiating onto your skin, you can pretend that you don't notice the irregular staccato of his breathing, you can pretend that you didn't just ask him to stay with you. You can pretend that he didn't listen.

But as you hear to the light hum of your heater in the corner, you know that you can't pretend that this isn't the most alive you have felt in weeks.

"I missed you," you breathe out.

"You can't say things like that," Minho says, voice barely there.

"I—"

"You're going to get my hopes up," he murmurs. "And that's mean."

"What?"

He sighs.

"Go to sleep."

"Minho..."

He doesn't respond. You wait, your heart stuck in your throat, to see if he will say anything else. But as the minutes pass and his breathing evens out, the room remains quiet. And even though you don't want to listen to him, even though his words play over and over in your head, eventually you can't deny the pull of sleep that drags you under, too.

A pounding headache snatches you from the deep throes of sleep. When you open your eyes, bright rays of sunlight burn the back of your eyelids and you can't quite remember what you did last night to put you in such an abysmal state.

A glance down at your clothes confirms that when you arrived home, you must have been too drunk to change. Which, now that you think about it... How exactly did you get home last night?

Your head swims when you push yourself up, eyes barely open as you shuck off your current attire in favor of your comfy clothes—aka an oversized shirt that you might have stolen from Minho a few weeks ago and your favorite fuzzy socks.

All you can think about is the Tylenol calling your name from the medicine cabinet as you walk out of your room. The only plus side to your current state is that your roommate isn't here to see how horrible you look.

The pounding in your ears is loud enough to drown out the sizzling coming from the kitchen, strong enough for you to not notice the smell of eggs wafting from the stove.

Unfortunately, it is not potent enough to erase the man standing with your favorite apron wrapped around his waist as he points a spatula at you.

"Good morning."

A surprised yelp leaves your lips as you make eye contact with Minho.

“W-What?”

“I made breakfast.” He says it like its the most normal thing for him to be standing in your apartment, cooking for you.

“…Why are you here?”

He stares at you. “Do you not remember last night?”

Your brow furrows as you think back on the night before. The last thing you remember was taking a step outside of the restaurant to get a breath of fresh air, and then—

Your mouth falls open as the memories flood back—of Minho walking you home, putting you to bed, and…

“You stayed?”

The words come out small and he shrugs.

“You asked me to.”

Your mouth gapes and your stomach turns as you struggle (and fail) to process his words. “But…”

“Sit.”

Minho takes you by the shoulders and steers you towards the barstool, pushing you down into a seat. You are just disoriented enough to not protest, taking the food of plate he puts in front of you without words.

Your heart flutters when you look down to see he has cooked your eggs just the way you liked them, without even having to ask you.

“What is this?” You ask faintly.

“Breakfast,” Minho says. “Obviously.”

“No, I mean—” you stutter, but he shushes you.

“Eat first,” he tells you firmly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not the one who told you drink so much last night,” he tuts.

Your lips press together. The reason you were drinking was because of him, but you aren’t sure that’s the best thing to say right now.

“Eat,” he stresses again. “We’ll talk after.”

“Fine.”

You pick up the fork, torn between threatening him with it or digging into the food he made. In the end, your stomach makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. It is slightly uncomfortable the way that he watches you as you eat, but you are so hungry and hungover that the attention eventually fades to the periphery of your awareness as you scarf down the food faster than you probably should.

“Happy?” You ask, setting the fork down.

He nods, taking your plate and putting it in the sink.

“Great. So, about that talk?”

Minho shrugs his shoulder noncommittally, his back facing you as he turns the faucet on and reaches for the dish sponge. He looks so domestic washing your dishes that your stomach clenches.

“Minho,” you push yourself up, walking around the counter to close the distance between you and him.

“Yes?”

“Why are you still here?”

“Is that how you thank someone who just made you breakfast?”

“Stop deflecting,” you say.

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“I already told you.”

You are barely a few feet away from him and he still won’t look at you.

“We aren’t…” you hesitate. “We’re not anything.”

“Believe me, I know,” he mutters.

“Stop acting like this,” you sigh. “Can you answer my question?”

Minho turns off the tap and places the plate on your drying rack.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks finally.

“The truth, maybe?” You let out, annoyed.

“Really?”

“Yes, really!”

“You want me to tell you that even though it’s only been two weeks since I last saw you, it feels like it’s been forever?”

His words hit you like a punch in the stomach.

“W-What?”

Minho turns around, running a hand through his hair. He still refuses to look at you, but now that you can see his face, you can see the way his expression pinches as he continues on.

“Or that waking up next to you this morning was like a breath of fresh air? That I want to cook you breakfast every day and take you on dates all the time, and tell all our friends about us, and even do cringey things like take those stupid overpriced photobooth pictures because I know how much you like them? That I want to be embarrassing and irritating and overly affectionate with you because I really like you and it kills me that you don’t feel the same way?”

Your jaw drops. Blood thrums through your ears, your head pounds for a reason entirely different than your hangover from last night, and you think your heart might jump out of your throat.

Over the course of the past few months, you have seen Minho in countless compromising positions, but never has he looked more vulnerable than he does now. The rawness of his expression floors you.

And then he takes a deep breath, and the look is gone, his face oddly blank.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice level and controlled. “I didn’t mean to…”

He purses his lips, and you notice his fingers turning white as his digs his nails into his palms. When he notices you looking, he quickly hides his hands behind his back.

“I’m sorry,” Minho repeats. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I meant to keep that to myself—”

“Do you mean it?” You interrupt.

“—What?”

Your words catch him off guard, and for the first time, he turns to look at you. His eyes are wide and confused as they snag on your face.

“Do you mean all that?” You whisper.

He looks at you—really looks at you—and then, candidly, he says, “yes.”

A moment of silence lapses, and then you burst into laughter.

“Oh my god,” you huff. “We’re both so fucking stupid.”

And then, you take a step towards him, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull his lips down to yours.

He doesn’t move, frozen as you press your mouth against him, his hands frozen at his side. And then, a small noise escapes him and he melts into the kiss, his lips working deliciously against yours. His hands press into your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“W-Wait,” he pants, breaking the kiss.

“I—I can’t do this,” Minho says, taking a step away from you. “You said you wanted to end it, I-I don’t want to feel pressured—”

“Minho,” you sigh. “The only reason I ended things is because I liked you too much. I was literally on the verge of confessing any time you even looked at me.”

This time, it’s his turn to look at you with surprise on his face.

“Seriously?”

“Why do you think I was drinking so much last night?” You ask sarcastically.

“…We really are stupid,” he sighs, and then his mouth is on you again.

This time, he kisses you gently, tenderly. His hands lift to cup your jaw and his lips move slowly against you, sensual in the way they suck and lick against your mouth. Underneath you, your legs turn to jelly and a small moan slips through as his tongue works its way into your mouth.

“M-Minho—” you gasp when he nips at your tongue, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that sends arousal flooding your core.

“I missed you,” his words come out muffled against your mouth.

“Mmm,” you hum in agreement against his lips. He presses further into you, crowding you back until the countertop presses against your spine.

The two of you are chest to chest, bodies flush against each other as he devours you, the kiss going from sensual to downright carnal as Minho kisses you as if he needs it to breathe. A moan worms its way out of you when you feel the way his dick, hard through his pants, rubs against your stomach.

“Y-You’re so—” you gasp, pulling back from his mouth. “Already worked up, just from a kiss?”

“I’ve been hard since you walked out here in nothing but my shirt,” he says as you catch your breath.

“Well,” you bat your eyelashes, your fingers playing with the zipper of his pants. “Why don’t you let me help with that?”

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth as you slide down to your knees.

His pupils dilate at the visual of you below him, and a positively delicious groan escapes his lips when you nuzzle your face against his bulge.

“Yes, please,” he breathes.

You unzip his pants dangerously slowly, relishing the way that he watches you with such intensity. Your mouth waters at the thought of his cock, and you swear just the visual of it when you pull him out of his pants is enough to soak your panties.

A finger runs against his slit, light touches collecting his precum on your finger, and he hisses at the feeling. Your eyes stay glued to his when you push the finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The taste of him is familiar and has you moaning against your finger.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he grits out. “Your mouth…”

“You’re the one who has spent the last month rejecting my mouth,” you pout. “And now you want it?”

“God,” he groans. “Because I knew if I had my cock in your mouth, I would have told you in three seconds flat how I feel about you.”

“Hmm…” You feign disinterest, even as your thighs clench together.

His jaw tenses, the muscle tightening, and you decide to put him out of his misery.

You lean forward, placing a kittenish kiss on the head of his cock, and then you suckle him in your mouth, taking inch by torturous inch down your throat until you have him firmly to the hilt. The press of him against the back of your throat is painful and pleasurable in one, and you moan around him just to tease him.

“Fuck.”

His hand laces through your hair, tugging lightly at your scalp.

When you look up at him through hooded eyes, his tight expression has you pulling back off, your tongue running on the underside of his cock as you go.

“So good,” Minho tells you, and you push yourself further down his length.

He gathers your hair in a ponytail, holding it out of your face for you as you build a slow pace, sucking on the head of his cock every time you pull yourself off. Your eyes remain trained on his face, and you take delight in every minute change of his expression—the furrow of his brow, the bite of his lip, the parting of his mouth.

Curiously, you graze your teeth against him lightly. He groans at the feeling, his hips unintentionally jerking forward, and you smile around his cock.

Your hands rise to grip his thighs, and then you speed up, bobbing your head up and down fast and hard, ignoring the burn in your throat when the head of his cock hits the back.

“Fuck, oh my god,” he moans, his hand tightening in your hair.

And then, he pulls you off completely, panting as you wipe the spit from the side of your mouth.

“Why’d you do that?” You ask, your voice hoarse.

“You were having a little too much fun,” he says, the words coming out more breathy than he probably intends them to.

“I was,” you agree.

“Well, it’s my turn,” Minho says, and then he pulls you up from the ground, lifting you to place you on the countertop behind you.

“Gotta take care of you too, baby, hmm?”

Your legs part so that he has enough room to stand in between them, and you nod slowly.

“Yeah…”

“Are you gonna let me?” He asks. “Or are you going to stubborn, like last time?”

Your mind flashes back to the party, to the hallway, to his fingers, to the way that you were trying so hard not to slip up and let him know how obsessed you are with him.

“Take care of me,” you mumble, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

“Of course, baby,” he smiles sweetly at you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

It is a stark juxtaposition to the way that he hooks both of your legs onto his elbows, spreading you further so that your covered cunt is visible to him.

“Hmmm, so wet already?” He teases, running a finger over your soaked panties. You whimper at the feeling of his feather-like touch, leaning back on your elbows to support your weight.

“I missed you,” you whisper as he continues to feel you over your underwear.

“I couldn’t tell,” Minho smirks, his thumb rubbing your clothed clit in a way that has you squirming underneath him.

Your hips lift off of the counter in an attempt to get closer to him, and Minho takes the opportunity to pull your panties off completely. The air against your exposed cunt is cool and sets you on edge, making you starkly aware of how turned on you are.

His thumb comes down on your clit once again, and the feeling is ten times more intense than before. Your hips cant towards him and you moan as he rubs slowly, leisurely, drinking up your reactions.

“I love when you make those noises for me,” Minho says. “Knew you could do it, hmm? Why’d you hide them from me before?”

“C-Couldn’t,” you pant. “Couldn’t let y-you know how much I like you.”

He clicks his tongue.

“You better not hold back right now, baby,” he says, and then his fingers leave you, wrapping around the base of his cock.

You whine when he rubs it against you, his length hot and hard against your wet folds.

“Ready?”

You nod quickly, a content sigh leaving your lips at the familiar stretch when he pushes into you.

His pace is torturously slow and has you gasping before he even bottoms out. When his length is fully sheathed inside of you, he remains there, staring at your face with wide eyes that have cheeks warming.

“What?” You ask, self-conscious.

“You look so pretty like this,” Minho murmurs, a hand lifting up to smooth down your hair before trailing down to cup your jaw.

The praise has you clenching down on his cock, which in turn has him inhaling sharply.

“You like it when I say nice things to you?” He asks.

You bite your lip and look up at him but don’t answer.

“You’re always so pretty, baby,” he coos, pulling out slightly only to push back in.

Your mouth falls open at the feeling of him inside of you, every line and ridge so easily identifiable because of how slow he moves.

“I like everything about you, hmm,” Minho says, his breathing getting heavier as he repeats the motion until he is rocking into you, his dick brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. “Your voice, your personality, your pussy, you…”

You whine as he presses closer to you so that his face is only inches away from yours. His eyes bore into you as he reaches down and crooks your right leg over his shoulder, spreading you wider. The angle has him hitting deeper than before, and your insides burn with arousal. The slick sound of him inside of you in combination with your whines and his heavy breathing only make it all the more erotic.

“After this,” he pants, his breath fanning out against your face, “will you let me take you out?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, yes, oh.”

His hips snap against you, moving faster in a way that has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“You feel so hot, so good, yeah?” Minho grunts. “Silly girl, thinking that I don’t like you.”

You whimper at his words, rolling your hip upwards to meet his precise thrusts.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he says, kissing your neck. “It’s kind of a problem, actually, fuck.”

You clench down again, a string of breathy moans accompanying the visceral reaction his words have on you.

“You really like that, huh?” He groans, his hips stuttering at the feeling.

“Mhm, I-I really like you,” you whimper.

“Look at me like that,” he grits out, “and you’re going to make me come.”

“Please,” your eyes glaze over at the idea of the feeling of his cum, warm and wet inside of you, and you roll your hips against him again.

“Fuck, forgot what a cumslut my baby is,” Minho gasps.

“Min, please,” you whine.

“Only been a few weeks and you’re still so desperate,” he taunts. “Is this not enough for you?”

“A-Almost—” you moan. “Almost there.”

“Yeah?” He asks. “Gonna come for me?”

You nod.

“You’re so pretty when you come, god, I love when you come on my cock,” he groans.

Your orgasm is so close you can taste it, and the way that Minho continues to thrust into you hard and deep only eggs it further along. Your toes are tingling, you can barely keep your eyes open, and your core is clenching down so hard on him that you can see stars.

“Come for me baby, hmm?” He coos. “Show me how much you like me.”

All it takes is him leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss to push you over the edge. His mouth muffles the drawn out whine that you let out as your walls spasm around him. You aren’t sure how long your orgasm lasts—it feels like it could be minutes or hours, but he continues to fuck you through it, his mouth moving to your ear to mumble praises of how good you’re doing and how amazing you feel until you all but collapse on the counter beneath you, feeling boneless.

“You did so well, baby,” Minho murmurs, his hands gripping your hips as he continues to rock in and out of you slowly.

He is still hard, painfully so, and you can feel him throbbing in your oversensitive cunt.

“M-Min—” you cringe away from him, but his hold on you is firm.

“Think you can take a little bit more, hmm?” He pants.

You whine at the feeling of him inside of you.

“Thought you wanted my cum, baby,” Minho says. You nod your head deliriously, still basking in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“You can give me one more,” he tells you, “it’ll feel good, hm? Being good for me?”

His thumb drifts down to your swollen clit, and your back arches at the pain and pleasure of the direct contact.

“Minho,” you moan, “Oh, please—”

You aren’t sure if you are begging for him to stop or for him to keep going, and the smirk on his face tells you that he knows that. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit, and you clench down hard on him, feeling another orgasm cresting dangerously close.

“So good,” he sighs, his hips stuttering. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“Come, please,” you gasp. “Please, please, please.”

Minho’s thrust become sloppier the harder you clench down on him, his breaths coming out in rough pants—yet his thumb remains firmly where it is, rubbing and rubbing until he, dangerously quickly, brings you to your second orgasm.

You cry out as you come again, your hands gripping his wrists tightly as you writhe underneath him.

“Fuck,” he groans, thrusting jerkily into you twice more before pulling out, warm ropes of cum landing on your thighs.

You watch in blissful satisfaction as he jerks himself off through his orgasm, the veins in his forearm very visible.

He slumps against you, his forehead pressing against yours, and you smirk at him.

“You missed me that much, huh?”

“Yes,” he sighs.

“Well, lucky for you, I also missed you a lot.” You press a kiss against his cheek, giggling at the feeling of his hair tickling your face.

“So about that date…” Minho begins. “How long do you think it will take you to get ready?”

You jaw drops. “You wanted to go now?”

He grins. “No time like the present, right?”

if you enjoyed, please don't forget to reblog and leave your feedback/opinions <3 tysm for reading!!!

#seiki's fic rec 🕷#lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee minho smut #lee know x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee minho x reader

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httpseiki · 8 months

Text

🪐 things bf!minho does:

a small blurt about lino!

note: I offer this as a piece offering since I didn't finish my promised work!! I'm trying to get it done, but it's tough with my college and my extra class lining up 😭 not do add that I have a major writing block rn😺 🔫

genre: fluff, boyfriend!minho, a little idol!reader au.

wc: not many, idk.

song choice: flower - johnny stimson

🪐: having the urge to tie anything around your finger

a piece of tissue, a string of grass, a flower's tulip, a stray string... literally anything he can find it's good material to wife you up. this was started by you, actually, getting bored in the waiting room. fidgeting with the tissue wasn't cutting it anymore, and when a long part ripped, you called over to minho, asking him to show you his hand. oh, that bubbling, sparkly, warm pink feeling that erupted inside him when he saw the small knot around his pinky made the tip of his ears turn red. since then, he wants to return the favor to you, tying your finger with anything he has around.

🪐: passing you little notes when no one is looking

being an idol steals a lot from you, a big part being privacy. with eyes on you at all times, even inside your own company, your bf never really gets to compliment you. so, he sticks to cute little notes. he gives you one under your water bottle that you somehow forgot in his practice room, "you're getting better at dance than me." another one when he randomly, very randomly, bumps into you on the hall "you were so cute on your livestream." and one more when you're sitting in the cafeteria with your members, "i can't wait to get home and kiss you." minho being minho, he's gonna jureumify every single note, and as a good gf you are, you pass notes back to him, folding it in shapes of hearts.

🪐: bringing you breakfast in bed

he actually made it a thing to bring you breakfast in bed every Saturday. usually, he makes you coffee, eggs, cuts some of your favorite fruits and brings you yogurt. that's why you're a bit surprised when you see him struggling to open the door with his elbow, a big, long wooden charcuterie board, full of light snacks, occupying his whole arms. you were sitting cozily tangled between the sheets when he sat next to you. "min, when I asked for breakfast in bed, I was expecting some eggs and potentially a coffee, not a whole ass five star boufet." you giggle, "really? because I can take it back if-" "don't you dare."

🪐: biting as a form of love.

you're doing your makeup in the mirror? well, minho will come behind you and pretend to back hug you. when you fall into his illusion of affection, his teeth will sink into your shoulder blade. and hard. hard enough to leave a mark, "min, what the fuck?" or when you're too cute for his liking, he just has to scrape the tip of his teeth against you. that, or you're just sitting together, boredom filling the air, minho just picks up your arm and bites, holding your flesh in his mouth as if he's some type of feline showing its prey. if you do it back to him, he'll short circuit, his ears burning hot.

🪐: communicating through blinks

it always intrigued you how minho's body reacts before his mind can. especially when something unexpected happens, his eyes close rapidly and repeatedly, as you finish telling him the latest gossip from work. or when he comes home and looks a bit more tired then usual, minho blinks two times at you. that's how you found out about the gone-wrong practice. and when you're in a room full of people and somehow, your bright smile and cheerful laugh erupts from the other corner of the room, your boyfriend turns his head in a second, in a search of you. your eyes immediately find his. you looked so ethereal, shining so much, that he couldn't help but slow blink at you, a silly smile on his face. that one means I love you. and you return it in no time.

back to surfing!

#pls forgive me #seiki's blurts🪐#skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know scenarios #lee minho scenarios #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #lee know soft hours #lee know soft thoughts

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httpseiki · 8 months

Text

I cackled at the "felix tell me those things all the time... not sex related." part so hard because that's so lino of him to say that in such a special moment 😭😭😭

🔞 pillowtalk - lee know x gn!reader

[ wc ] 1,3k | 🏷️ nsfw, explicit, mostly fluff, established relationship

[ description ] person a teases person b about getting sleepy after having sex. as b is falling asleep, the last thing they say is “I’m going to marry your idiot ass.”

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI !

[ a/n ] if this fic sounds familiar, it's an edited repost from my old account @caseiloveu !

𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸

The music was playing quietly when you came. Both of your moans blended together with the sweet melody of Minho’s playlist, the same one he had created for moments like these the day he met you. His body was pressed tightly against yours, both of your hands locked together above your head. His eyes frantically searched for yours, begging for your approval and your praise. He needed to know that you were feeling as good as he did.

His hair was still sticking to his forehead when one of your hands untangled his own to run your fingers through his hair. When you did, Minho leaned into your touch and hummed, both of you still panting and coming down from your highs.

“This was fun,” you said and Minho snorted. Carefully, he put his head against your collarbone and pressed soft kisses on top of them, his lips burning hot on your skin.

“Only fun?” He teased as you wrapped your free arm around his shoulders, pressing him tighter against you.

You hummed in response, ignoring the fast thumping of your heart, and pressed a kiss on top of his hair. “It was fun. Because you’re so talented. That’s why it was also brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, and -”

Minho pressed his lips against yours. You smiled against him and pulled him impossibly closer until his nose touched yours.

“You know,” he started, kissing you again and again, “I know that you’re quoting Lady Gaga right now.”

You laughed through his kisses, allowing him to pamper your entire face with them instead. “I’m sorry. It’s still true.”

Minho grinned against your skin, before softly biting down on your cheek. “You know that Felix tells me these things too, right? Not sex related.”

You rolled your eyes and opted to kiss his cheek this time around. Minho only pouted and waited for your lips to find his. They did, eventually, and in that moment, he only looked at you with a proud and lovesick grin on his face and twinkling eyes.

You were nothing but a tangle of limbs, both of your bodies melting into each other. Even though it was starting to become uncomfortable, you were still basking in his warmth, hoping that this moment would never end. It felt homely to lay here with Minho in your arms and him still inside you and now that your high was slowly fading, it also made you feel incredibly sleepy.

Minho noticed, of course, and put the hand that was still holding yours beside your head. The other one did the same and he pulled himself up and out of you, much to your protest. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he was hovering over you, your eyes slowly falling shut. Minho only chuckled and pressed another kiss to the tip of your nose.

“C’mon, sleepy head. Let’s get you to the bathroom. I’ll clean you up after and I'll get you some water before you fall asleep, hm?”

In response, you nodded and suppressed a yawn. Minho chuckled again. After he got up, he took your hands back into his and helped you sit back up too. He kept holding your hand when you went to the bathroom. Both of you got ready for bed and Minho asked you where you wanted him to clean you.

“I can do it myself, just go to bed already,” You said instead, but Minho shook his head.

“I’ll do it. Just go back to bed.”

“But -”

“No ‘But’s’,” he interrupted you. You rolled your eyes, not really upset at him, and kissed his cheek one more time. In response, he pinched your butt and you yelped.

“Clingy today, aren’t we?” He teased with a smirk, “This is, by the way, the only butt I want to hear about today.”

“You’re impossible,” you mumbled, but still made your way back to bed. You would still have enough time to change your sheets tomorrow, you decided as your tiredness took over your body again. When Minho came out of the bathroom with a wet washcloth, you were already almost asleep. You had closed your eyes while waiting for him and did not even have enough energy to acknowledge his presence again.

Minho, who already knew how sleepy you would get after having sex, only chuckled when he saw you. Your body was spread all across the bed, giving him room to clean you up. He put a glass of water on your bedside table, as promised, turned the music off, and started cleaning you up a little bit more.

“It’s so cute how sleepy you always get after,” he whispered to you. Unbeknownst to him, you were still awake, and listening to his every word.

“I don’t know why you won’t let me take care of you,” his voice turned even sweeter when he added, “You know I want to take care of you for the rest of my life.”

Fighting sleep as best as you could, you put your arms up. Minho, surprised to see that you were still awake, almost immediately accepted the offer and crawled into your arms, the washcloth long forgotten on your nightstand, too.

As he was holding you close now, you pressed one last kiss against his ear.

“I’m going to marry your idiot ass, just for your information,” you said, before allowing sleep to take over. Minho hugged you closer, and if you had not been asleep already, you would have seen the blush on his cheeks and his flustered expression, with his eyes glued to your face.

When you both woke up the next morning, you felt sticky. It was not a comfortable feeling, but when you found yourself still in your lover’s arms, you scrunched your nose in defeat and cuddled closer into him. Minho was already awake and pressed you closer against him when he noticed.

“Good Morning,” he whispered, his morning voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Morning,” you hummed, taking in his natural smell.

Both of you stayed silent for another few minutes. Minho ran his fingers up and down your back. He seemed a bit nervous, you noticed, and put one of your hands back up in his hair.

“You okay?” You whispered, not really daring to interrupt the silence between the both of you. Minho shook his head, his Adam's apple nervously bobbing in his throat.

“Did you mean what you said yesterday?” He asked shily, the same flustered expression making its way back onto his face. Confusedly, you looked up at him. His cheeks were burning red and he looked almost embarrassed to be asking you this. Thinking back about your conversation yesterday, your lips fell slightly ajar when you remembered your confession.

“About me marrying you?” you asked, and Minho nodded.

“Of course I want to marry you,” you replied immediately, running your thumb over his lower lip. Your heart started beating a little bit faster when you noticed his lovesick stare. He looked at you as if you put all of the stars on the sky all by yourself. It made your heart burst with love and you told him, even more confidently this time, “I would marry you in a heartbeat.”

It was quiet and for a moment, you thought Minho would not answer you anymore. His eyes were still holding the same look in them, the same one as last night; desperately looking for yours, only looking for your approval.

“Do you mean it?”

His words were vulnerable and sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. You put your hand back on his cheek and pulled his face closer. Your noses were grazing each other, both so filled with love, when you answered, “Do you think I’d quote Lady Gaga after sex if I didn’t intend to marry your dumb ass?”

#seiki's fic rec 🕷#lee know x reader #lee know smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff

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httpseiki · 8 months

Text

no words. just tears. second ff that made me cry for real (but can this be called a fanfic??)

that was well written. and idk why I'm writing so formal. I'm just in my feels rn.

I hope lino never dies. he won't ever die bcus he ain't, period.

✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails with minho before death knocks

✰ pairings: sick!minho x gn!reader

✰ genre: angst, romance, grief

✰ warnings: major character death, mentions of alzheimer’s illness, lots of what ifs and unsaid thoughts, forever isn’t for ever.

✰ word count: 1.2k + words

one 𖨂

hey, uhm i honestly don’t know what to say but i’ll try. so it’s five forty in the morning and i’m sending these to you. the doctors– they said i won’t be able to m-make it. . . and i want to reassure you that whatever happened wasn’t your fault. at all, my kitten. we didn’t know i had this terminal illness, and i think now is the perfect time to say those things i never said. firstly, i love you so much. more than you can imagine. and yes, even more than that tv show of mine. there’s honestly so much to say, but there’s so little time. i have only 2-3 more hours, i suppose? and i begged the doctor to not call you before i’m gone. i know this isn’t fair to you my little star, but i don’t want to see you in pain because of me, or anyone else. which is why i’m afraid of letting go of your hand. afraid that if i go, you will try to follow me blindly, do the wrong things, walk down the wrong paths and will end up losing yourself. i don’t ever want that to happen. ever. so, please don’t cry when i’m gone. i guess you can cry a bit. . . but not much. what if you end up getting a sore throat? if you do, take the medicines from the second drawer in the bathroom, okay?

two 𖨂

i’ll miss you. your goofy faces that you make, your cute little squeaks between your laughs, your beautiful eyes that always shine when you see chocolates and you. all of you. i’ll miss all of you so much. how about you? will you miss me too? will you bake your cinnamon rolls that i love so much at the funeral? or on my birthday? will you? i’m not even sure what happens after death. whether i will even remember you or not, i don’t know. but what i know is, that i’ll watch over you from up there. i’ll always watch. so don’t be afraid to step out of the house after it gets dark. and if you do, carry that pepper spray with you, okay? doesn’t it feel so surreal? me becoming a star, when i always call you my little star? i guess that’s why i’ll have to watch over you from afar. me, a big star. you, my cute little star. i’ll shine bright in the sky, i’m sure of that. so don’t you dare lose that shine on you as well, alright?

three 𖨂

it feels weird and- and scary. i’m so nervous, love. i didn’t want to die like this, never! i wanted to live a long life with you. live with our three little cats, and maybe a few mini versions of ourselves running around our house. i wanted to see you grow old. and i want to keep loving you even when you put hair brushes into the freezer and dishes in the bathroom, i want to be with you. right by your side. and even when you forget to brew your evening coffee, i want to hold your hand and guide you. and even when you keep repeating the same words three times a day, i will pretend it’s new. so that you don’t have to remember that you’re forgetting. yeah, i know it. the doctors told me you can have alzheimer’s over time, it’s highly possible. but i’m afraid i won’t be able to take care of you kitten. and i’m sorry– i really am. i wish it didn’t have to end this way.

four 𖨂

i know you. you were looking for forever. i couldn’t give you that. but i can at least take the batteries out of the clocks so that we’ll be stuck inside this moment as if time had really been stopped. so that i’ll almost get a million extra seconds to spend with you, except here seconds do not exist. it’s only the two of us. you and i. in our forever. and when i die, you can crank your watch– restart the clocks and begin the time. and know that we were infinite the moment you were mine. i’ll always be yours. always. i promise. but i want you to move on. i want you to experience love again while you’re still young. i’ll support every decision of yours from up there, and i’ll cheer on you. i don’t ever want to hold you back. nuh-uh. i want you to move forward, and even though you can look back, i don’t ever want you think you could’ve changed the past. you need to walk on a different road now. one without me. and though it hurts to say this– you need to live without me. live for us. live for the future you always wanted. live to complete those bucket lists of yours and even mine, since i couldn’t complete even a single of them. live. just live happily.

five 𖨂

it’s ten minutes past seven, and i feel sick. pain scale infinite/100. my whole body feels on fire. my hands– they wouldn’t stop trembling no matter how hard i try. my lips have turned pale, and i feel it coming. i can sense it. i can sense death waiting on the door. waiting that the moment i finish it’s going to snatch me away from you, from this world. and i’m trying to stall time. but my body doesn’t listen to me anymore. it’s become weaker and more. . . stubborn. my love. i wish i could call you that more often. my little star. my kitten. all these nicknames are the only way i survived my nights admitted in this hospital. i used to think of you. think of what you would do after i’m gone. think of what you would feel. think of who else would cry for me. and i don’t know what to do. i really don’t. i feel just so helpless. i don’t know what to do anymore. i really don’t. i hope you’re not sad because of it. please don’t be. take care of our three beautiful children okay? tell them that their father has gone to a beautiful place, show them your love, sing to them at night and take them in your arms when you feel sad. and if you ever miss me, look at the rain, or the stars or the clouds, i’ll always be here to listen. always. just as i promised.

six 𖨂

i hoped that death would be a bit kinder. i hoped she gave me some more time, some more years i could spend loving, admiring and memorizing every bit of you. but it’s always unexpected. she comes in unexpected ways and takes away our loved ones in the blink of an eye. i’m talking like a true poet now, aren’t i? give that pink letter to my parents, green one for each members and blue one for you. tell them to open that after a week, it applies to you as well, missy. be kinder to yourself. love yourself. look at the mirror and think of my compliments. felix gives the best hugs. hug him if you feel low. if you ever feel drained out like me. i’m tired now. just– so so tired. can i rest now? please? i’ll always love you regardless of whatever may come. and i’ll always be in your heart. i’m about to be a star, my love. s-signing off, yours forever.

taglist: @taeriffic

for anyone who wants to be added to the taglist either send me an ask without anon (cause it’s s taglist) or fill the form linked in my masterlist <333

#seiki's fic rec 🕷#how do i stop crying #stray kids x reader #stray kids reactions #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #bang chan x reader #minho x reader #minho fic #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #skz x gn reader #skz angst #skz imagines #skz scenarios

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httpseiki · 8 months

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pssst... quick spoiler alert!

not really, I just can't decide which header looks better for my next post - that's coming out sometime near the end of this week - so I'm just using y'all for opinions.

and in benefit to that, as a little payback for choosing, y'all get to know the song that inspired the fic:

answer or else I'll haunt you in your dreams!! 🥰👋👋

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httpseiki · 8 months

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mind blowing. revolutionary. I loved it, fuckndbdisjsdhd. but we should have pushed minho further 😼😼 see how much he can take. otherwise, this was divine!!!

trophy | lee know. smut.

As team captain, your boyfriend has his priorities straight. Minho doesn't take neither his training nor role lightly, and, sometimes, you like to tap into this inflexible side of his. (3.7k words)

CONTENT: smut, dom!minho but he's more persuasive than physically controlling, brat!reader, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, slight degradation kink. minors and empty blogs do not interact.

You shouldn't get under Minho's skin when he's training, you know that. The hurried whispers of his teammates leaving the field after matches told you this much. But still, it feels a bit unfair of him to make you sit here, after a whole game, having to watch as he leads his team through a “just, like, thirty minutes?” practice. Although annoyed, you understand why he's so hung up on practicing as much as possible—winning this game meant going to the finals, after all. You knew how much this meant to Minho, so you tried your best to be patient whilst sitting on the bleachers.

Even though you're in a bit of a hurry to get him home, watching Minho play earlier makes it hard to deny that the field is his element, leading the team is his calling. You were completely stunned as you watched your boyfriend play—this being the first game of his you saw which you were actually rooting for his team. It was a bit of a rascal when the team captain introduced the cheerleader of their rivalling team as his girlfriend, but his mates eventually got over it.

Your relationship with Minho was fun. You were together for a couple months and the freshness and excitement of it all never failed to make your skin tingle each time he looked at you in a certain way. Like the look he's giving you right now—chin up, eyes down, head slightly tilted.

“I told you to wait.” His uniform's shoulder pads make him look even more intimidating, the bright spotlights behind him turning the white material almost blinding—his shadow casting on you.

“I have been waiting! It's been like an hour, Min! And you said you'd take thirty minutes…” You hope a slight pout would help your case and soften his heart, but he simply turns his focus to the field for a moment, before looking back at you. Minho takes a few steps closer.

“What’re you so eager to go home for?” He asks, voice a bit quieter. There's no need to speak this lowly when he's so close, especially when his teammates are so far away and everyone else has gone home by now—but you'll take advantage of whatever you can get from him. Even if it's just the feeling of his eyes on you.

You look away, arms crossing under your chest as he smirks.

“What? Cat got your tongue so early on, baby? Speak up.”

“I'll tell you when we get in the car.”

His eyebrows furrow. “I don't wanna wait ‘til we get in the car.”

“Well, then maybe you should hurry.” You turn around, eyes lingering on him for a moment before you make your way to the parking lot.

Your nerves make you jump a little when you hear Minho shout to his team they're wrapping up the practice—the parking lot getting darker and darker with the distance you put between yourself and the field's spotlights, a cool breeze awakening shivers up your arms as the night hugged you tighter and tighter. You (and the butterflies on your stomach) wouldn't settle until you felt Minho's presence. But you don't wait for him to catch up to you. You don't look back.

The few minutes you sit in the car feel like hours, your phone's screen lighting up with a notification from your boyfriend finally seizing the constant checkups of your hair and gloss.

min🖤: locker room

You: why im waiting for u in the car

min🖤: locker room:) im waiting

You: ive been waiting for longer what if i just dont go

You slam the car door shut, making a bee line to his location.

min🖤: if you dont come you wont get what you want when we get home

You: whatever

The building's back door shuts loudly behind you.

min🖤: if you dont come ur gonna have made me end practice for nothing

You: idc ur already mad anyway

You reach the locker room and as soon as your hand turns the door handle, you feel two hands on your hips pressing your back to the cold metal.

Minho's tongue is in your mouth before you can even notice he kissed you, the cold air seeping through the open windows contrasting his warm palms on your skin. You're covered in shivers as he controls the kiss—one palm running up your chest to your neck until he reaches the back of your head, tilting it as he pleases.

“Not mad enough to use numbing cream on you.” The bottle sits menacingly on the wooden bench. He spreads your legs with his thigh, pressing against your core. “So don't push me.”

You're completely helpless, hands grabbing fistfuls of his uniform as he lightly pulls the hair on your nape every now and again—his mouth latching desperately onto yours. The room is dark, the campus so empty it almost feels like you're in a different dimension, completely by yourselves. Air fills your lungs for the first time in a while—you didn't realize you were that breathless until gasps fill the room as he kisses your neck.

“I didn't even do anything.” He leaves a harsh bite at your words, sucking on the bruise a moment after. “Ah- I just wanted to congratulate you for winning-”

“If you wanted to congratulate me”, his voice drips with sarcasm, “you would've sat there and wait for me to finish practice.” Minho hastily pulls the front of your tank top above your chest, not bothering to fully strip you out of it before his hand reaches under your bra, massaging your breast. “You would've been patient until I had the time to bring my pretty little trophy home, hm?”

Air hitches in your throat when he rips your bra open, the cloth falling to the floor. You struggle through heavy breathing to talk back as he licks his thumb and brings it to your nipple. “I'm not just some trophy.”

“You're not? What are you, then?” His lips leave your neck so he can look you in the eye, finally allowing to rest for a bit. You don't like the distance.

You lean your head forward, chasing his smirking lips as he pushes you back against the lockers—the shuffling metal sounds strident in the dead quiet. Minho tilts his head back a bit, rejecting your kiss. “You didn't answer me.”

“Because I wanna fucking kiss you!” You whine through gritted teeth, leaning towards him one more time.

The grip he has on your hair stops you once again, but this time, he gets so close his lips touch yours when he whispers. “Tell me what you are, baby. ‘Cause sometimes you act like you're just a desperate little hole for me to fill."

Minho's dilated pupils stare right into your soul. Your eyes shake but you don't look away. “I'm your fucking girlfriend. It's not my fault you're not good enough of a fuck that I'm never satisfied.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth.

You see, Minho wasn't the type to growl his demands and manhandle you into whatever position he wants—he always tries reasoning with you. He lets you know what it is he would like to do, and if you don't comply, he'd show you why that was the best option for you in the first place. Minho gets off on proving he knows better, showing how he knows what's best for you.

He takes a small step back, a click of his tongue letting you know his disappointment. “So I don't fuck you right? Okay.”

“I just- I didn't mean-”

“No, you're right, you're right. That's why I never make you come, right?” His voice coming out a little bit breathless as he shoves your shorts and underwear down your legs, eyes fix on yours. You kick the clothes to the side with trembling legs, bambi eyes looking up at him.

You didn't exactly know what the outcome of your stubbornness would be, but you did not expect Minho's knees to buckle—his gaze dead set on yours as he reached the ground.

Suddenly, your boyfriend grabs your hand and latches it to the hair on the back of his head.

“Why don't you fucking teach me then?” He speaks through gritted teeth, throwing your right leg over his shoulder pad—the unusual angle giving him all the access he needed and leaving you much more exposed.

Unhappy with how limp your hand stayed in his hair, Minho grabs it once more, pushing himself against your core.

“Come on, baby.” He mumbles, leaving wet kisses over your outer labia. When he looks up, resting his chin on the skin under your bellybutton, the dim light coming from the window makes his profile glow blue—pearly white grin hypnotizing you. Minho looked like an incubus—eager to suck the life out of you. “Where's your attitude, hmm? Show me what you like.”

You can see your bare chest heaving with each breath as you look down at him. “Fin... Fingers?”

He tilts his head to the side, big eyes full of mischief. “Fingers? You're asking?”

“I… I don't-”

“You don't know? Of course you do. You're just not thinking straight. Maybe it's stress, right? ‘Cause I'm not good enough?” Without a warning, the tip of his tongue lightly zigzags up and down your pussy. Up, and down again—avoiding your clit each time.

“You see,” he says, letting his saliva mix with your arousal, “if I use my fingers now, you'll come too fast.” Minho leaves a long peck on your core. “I know that's what you want, but what about dragging it out a little bit? I think you'd like it better.” He flattens his tongue and your body squirms as he licks up. “But I mean, I wouldn't know.”

Minho's being painfully annoying, but you deserve it. He takes his time dragging his tongue through your core, lapping your arousal and smearing it on your cunt—making your legs shake every now and again. His right hand keeps your squirming hips still as the left one slowly caresses it's way up your body, until he reaches your chest.

He's looking up at you the entire time, watching every single twitch and reaction to the flow of his tongue on you. When he finally latches onto your clit, you swear you lose your mind a little. Your hips stutter and he follows you promptly, big brown eyes burning through you. The sight of Minho on his knees being illuminated by the moonlight is so ethereal it's almost haunting, and at that moment, you know you'll never really forget this view—you'll never forget how he's making you feel. He really is like a incubus in a way, imprinting his mark on the back of your mind forever.

Impulsiveness takes over and you force your hips forward, the hand in the back of your boyfriend's head thrusting him against your cunt. Minho's eyes turn impossibly darker, his smirk much more noticeable than before. When he closes his eyes and his eyebrows furrow, you already know you're gone—instincts making you hold onto his locks harsher than ever.

The soft sucking turns progressively rougher, your eyes squeeze shut as his tongue draws figure-eights on your clit very softly in contrast to how quickly his lips are working the same nerve.

When your eyes start to water from how overwhelmed you feel, the telltale begins. As soon as your body starts shaking and your hips squirm away from his hold, you open your eyes to look at him just in time to watch as he completely removes himself off of you.

Your heart drops, hot tears running down your shamed cheeks as you wobble a bit, trying to find balance without his hands on your hips.

“Fuck, can you even feel anything, baby?” You feel the ghost of gentle fingertips on your labia, following up and down the slit.

You can tell through your watery eyesight and the poor-lit room that he's now paying attention to the way his fingers play with your cunt, smirk wiped clean off his voice as he watches your arousal coat his fingers. “If I try something like this-” He gently pushes his ring and middle fingers inside you, slowly curling the tip of his fingers in come-hither motion, low voice filling up the emptiness, “does it feel good?”

Does it feel good? You're long, long gone. Minho's voice sounds like it's coming from inside your head, the stimulation feels like it reflects in white orbits in your vision. You can no longer force yourself to open your eyes—it's for the better, anyway. You'd probably pass out if you caught a glimpse of his pretty brown eyes by now.

Does it feel good? You don't remember how you got yourself in this situation—you don't even have the brain power to form a phrase involving anything but religious chants of his name. You've become nothing but a warm body for Minho to touch and use as he pleases, you'd be satisfied with the smallest of touch he'd be kind enough to reach for.

His pouty lips find your clit again and suddenly, fireworks start setting off in your insides way too fast. Your stomach muscles contract in a way that's entirely new for you and you feel like you'll fall to the floor if he doesn't support all your weight. Your start to feel your throat straining, the constant whining suddenly getting higher. Your eyes are shut so tightly you can see blobs of colour behind your pitch-black eyelids. You think you're out of it for a little bit, but you can still hear his voice.

“Yeah, I don't think I'm doing it right.” The raspiness of his tone almost puts you to sleep—his fingers are still inside you, now pumping back and forth, very slowly. You can hear the embarrassingly loud gushing sound of his fingers moving inside you, and you open your eyes to find your boyfriend's face and chest covered in your arousal.

“I, I-” You don't know exactly what you have to say, but his loving eyes and the kiss he pressed to your thigh were not helping you find it out.

“You ruined my fucking jersey.” His lopsided smile makes your breath hitch.

“Need you.”

He tilts his head again. “Do you? Really?”

Your head is heavy as you nod, and you try your best to not lose focus. You know what he needs to hear to finally drop the act, and you know you should give in before your body gives out completely, but there's a little twisted voice inside your head asking how far you can take this—your body seems to be addicted to the thrill, moans immediately spilling out your lips when his fingers pick up pace.

“You're not satisfied?” He asks, voice sugary sweet. His pouty lips pepper quick pecks on your inner thigh, expectant eyes looking up at you. “I’m not sure I can help you, though. I mean, if it doesn’t feel good it’ll just get painful at some point.”

You stutter your words through a strained voice. “I’ll let you know if it does.” It takes your entire being to attempt to sound demanding. “We can keep going for now.”

An amused countenance takes over his sharp features. “Oh, we can? Alright, ma’am. Thank you so much for letting me know.” He stands up, and the sudden shift in atmosphere rising goosebumps on your skin as he now looks down on you.

Minho stands tall before you, the lighting no longer illuminating his doll-like eyes—shadows now cover most of his face, long hair hiding his gaze. As if he can hear your heartbeat picking up pace, he gets close to whisper against your lips, eyes hazy as he looks down at you. “I think we gotta stretch you out a bit more, hmm? If it didn't feel good, you're probably still tight.”

Good God, you hate this man. You know what he’s trying to get out of you—you’re just not sure if you want to give him the satisfaction yet.

So, you look up at him with the sweetest eyes you can possibly muster. “Don’t worry, bunny. You’re not that big.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, the smile on his lips doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bench. On your back.”

Although it seems you’ve worn his patience thin, you stare back. The cogs in your brain working their full capacity trying to figure out a way to make his life a bit harder. A disappointed sigh leaves his lips as he walks towards his locker, looking for his stuff to leave.

As always, his action is effective. Minho really doesn’t need much to convince you to give in, after all, you know what you’ll get when you do.

Silence fills the room as you discard your shirt all the way and lay on the bench, legs bent at the knees, heels resting on the cool surface. Anxiety bubbles under your sensitive skin when you hear Minho taking off his clothes. You rest you weight on your elbows to watch—his jersey was gone when you got to look at him, shoulder pads following suit.

“What made you change your mind?” He opted to leave his white tank top on as he unbuckles his belt, one knee—supported by the bench—between your legs. The moonlight now shining entirely on him.

“Don't like the emptiness…” Your voice trails off, and you don't mind staring shamelessly as he puts on a little show for you—one hand on your knee and running down your thigh, the other stroking his cock.

He scoffs, “You say shit like this but don't like it when I say you act like a hole.” He taps his tip on your clit, earning a loud whine from you. “Make up your mind, bunny.”

Minho stays kneeled before you, the cloth of his tank top so thin you could make out the lines of his chest and abs—the muscles on his pale arms shining iridescent in the lighting.

Your boyfriend moved his hips, slowly grinding over your slit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head without much resistance, mouth watering with each nudge of his tip to your clit. “Whatever you said about me not being too big…” He leans down to leave a quick peck on your lips. “Keep that in mind.”

With absolutely no warning and much faster than your brain would've been able to process, Minho buries himself as deep as he possibly can inside of you. He lifts you hips off the bench with ease, sitting on his heels—his hold on you so tight you bounced back against him with each thrust of his.

The stamina of the man above you is unfaltering. You can't do much besides watch him: his biceps flex to support the weight of your hips every time he slams you back on his cock, veins prominent on his arms. Minho's face and neck are covered in the prettiest shade of pink—his wide chest, blushed with the same colour, is struggling with each breath he takes. The moonlight highlights the droplets of sweat sliding down his neck, and he can't seem to decide whether he wants to throw his head back or look down at where your hips align.

Keeping himself together is the hardest when Minho looks down at you. He got his pretty girl all splayed out for him; her eyebrows furrowed in utter pleasure as the whiniest sounds constantly pour out of her pouty lips. The way your body reacts to him is hypnotic—it's so fun for him, how every little thing he does makes your eyes roll back. The power trip he gets when he watches your skin shiver wherever his hands touch is better than anything he's ever experienced. All because it's you. Because he gets you to feel like this. The fact you're so drunk on Minho gets him even more addicted to the feeling of your body shaking under him. So when your hips suddenly spring back to life rolling desperately against his and Minho's name seems to be the only coherent thought your brain can formulate, his desire increases tenfold.

You have no control over how loud your moans or the smack of Minho's hips against yours are. He lowers you back on the bench and is fully above you in the blink of an eye—holding your face as he kisses you so deeply you struggle to keep up. His thrust become less timed but continue as deep as they were. Minho throws his head back, moaning loudly, but quickly brings his gaze back to your lips. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips touching yours as he whispers.

“Come on, baby. You know how much I love to feel you coming around me. Be good.”

Be good, be good. Of course you want to be good. When his lips touch yours again, euphoria explodes inside of you. Your eyes being squeezed shut seem to enhance your other senses a bit—you feel every inch of Minho's cock grinding inside you, his hands burning hot where they touch, his loud moans and the wetness spattering between your legs being the only things crystal clear in your cloudy mind.

“Holy shit, fuck. I'm close, I'm so close.” He pants, face buried in your neck.

Your weak hands gently soothe his back, you mindlessly mumble your words, “Wanna feel you coming inside me, love. Want it so bad.”

His strong arms wrap around your waist when he comes, cock buried deep inside of you. Minho shudders with each movement of your hands against his skin, as you now gently scratch his back under his tank top. It feels like like a long time has passed until he breaks the silence.

“We're taking the numbing cream home, by the way.” He gets his face off your neck and rests his weight on his elbows. His right hand cups your jaw, thumb playing with your drooled lips. “You're not done paying for that attitude.”

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httpseiki · 8 months

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minho brainrot

✧──tonight's topic: him + pet play─✧

note: this is def very rushed and I do have better stories, but lately I have a thing for minho treating you softly :(.

tw: fem!reader x dom!minho, crazy amount of pet play, pet names, oral(m), hair pulling, slight breath play, degradation, a little praise if you squint, cum play, unprotected piv, mentions of sub space.

first, I'm gonna start by stating this - as his s/o, he's not gonna address you with any other nicknames other than kitty/kitten.ok.

now that I've said that, picture minho holding your face in his hands while you're on your knees between his legs. his thumb would stroke your cheek before pushing it inside your mouth. oh, give him that innocent look while you suck his finger, he'll go craaazyy.

when you finally get his cock between your lips, minho can't help but tangle his hands in your hair, controlling the pace you're going for by pulling at your locks. he doesn't really care you can't breathe quite well. push at him all you want, he's only going to go harder. "yeah, just like that, kitty." "such a good girl, letting me use you as I want" is what he would say as he destroys your throat. "shush or you won't be getting your treat, y'hear me?"

oh, and he definitely cums in your mouth afterwards and expects you to not waste a single drop of his cum!!! don't swallow it either. "open up, let me see how well you took me, kitty." "yeah? you like my cum on your tongue?" minho coos at you, scratching your chin and kissing your forehead.

he definitely has a pet play kink. so I have this feeling that he would buy those cute cat ears that move when they sense your emotions, or just some plain headband with bells attached to it. "why, you're shy? is that why your ears plopped?" "this isn't the kitten from earlier who rubbed her pretty ass on me in front of everyone, where did all the courage go??"

maybe he'll buy a pretty choker with a leash. you'll be on all fours, minho fucking you senseless, splitting you in half, when he pulls the leash and makes your back meet his chest, head falling into his shoulder. "you're so tight, kitty, do I not fuck you enough" then, there's two options:

one:

"no? I don't fuck you enough?! my kitty is so needy she needs to get fucked every second of her life, yeah?"

two.

"I do fuck you enough? well, it's not showing, you're still so tight, maybe I should fuck you harder."

and either way, you wouldn't complain because you do love the feeling of his dick ramming raw inside you.

if you fall into sub space and can't even spill out comprehendable words, minho will chuckle softly at you, responding the same way he does to his cats. "mmm, I know, cutie." "hmph, does my kitty need some water? want something to snack, hmm??" "it's okay it's okay, I'm here," he says, stroking your hair gently.

back to my masterlist!

thank you for reading!! ☕☕

#seiki's brainrot series #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee know scenarios #lee know hard thoughts #lee know hard hours #lee know imagines #skz lee know x reader #skz lee know smut

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httpseiki · 8 months

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y'all already know I THRIVE for e2l!minho and omfg this was just perfect and aalaksnekenee. 😽😽😽

"Sure you'd like to know."

Pairing: Minho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Tags/Warnings: Unprotected sex, angst if you look really hard, quite a bit of frustration involved, slight roughness (for like a second), littles bits of fluff too!

Part Two

SMUT WARNING

“Hey Hyunjinnie,” You greet politely as you click the big oak door to your friend’s apartment shut, speaking into the air without knowing where he is in the spacious apartment.

“In here!” You hear Hyunjin call from somewhere deeper into the apartment and you begin to follow the echo of the voice, passing by the living room on your way there and being met with a sight you were hoping you wouldn’t have to see at least once that you come to visit Hyunjin.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you here again?” The cocky voice asks more than sarcastically, revoltingly actually, and you make sure he catches sight of you rolling your eyes at him.

“When are you going to get used to it, Minho?” You ask rhetorically, not waiting for a response as you continue down the hallway.

For some or other reason, Minho - Hyunjin’s best friend - just absolutely loathes you and your presence. Ever since you and Hyunjin became friends a few years ago when you met at an arts-and-crafts store and introduced you to his best friend over dinner one night, Minho hasn’t even tried to hide his dislike for you, which you - for some unknown reason - appreciated about him. Rather that than being fake, you tell yourself every time he either mocks your laugh or asks you when you’re leaving the moment you walk in the front door.

You wouldn't say you particularly hate him back because of the type of person that he is, but you definitely don’t stand for his bullshit and shitty behavior towards you, finding yourself retaliating each and every time even after Hyunjin’s advised you multiple times to just stop “entertaining it” because “He loves that shit”.

In all honesty, you’re willing to bet there’s a certain warmth about Minho, that the cold facade is exactly just that - a mask. The reason for your unwavering suspicion being that you’ve seen Minho around the other members of Hyunjin’s friend group, and you’ve literally seen him be gentler to them than he is with you, which always leaves you wondering why he unfailingly picks on you.

Before the shitty way he treated you really pushed you to the point of becoming as big of a dick to him as he is to you, you did actually try to be nice. You brought him whatever you brought Hyunjin when you came to visit - be that food or even a cute kitten keychain that you heard him telling Hyunjin looks just like Dori.

Needless to say, he didnt really show any appreciation for the little things you did, which may or may not have been to have at least a little bit of approval, and it hurt to the point where you stopped trying.

“Woah, Hyune!” You exclaim in awe when you enter the little art studio in Hyunjin’s apartment that he managed to paint - almost literally - with all his art supplies, canvases, sketch pads, and previous paintings and drawings hanging on the walls like graffiti and catch a glimpse of the piece he’s currently working on.

In the most beautiful pastel colors, Hyunjin has painted a field of dandelions using only his fingers, the proof being the smudges all over his hands, torso, and even his face as he’s attempted to brush strands of his long black hair out of his face.

The tall dark-haired wearing only shorts perks up when you praise his work and stands back to allow you to appreciate it, grinning proudly yet humbly, bowing his head as a silent ‘thank you’.

“Pizza?” Hyunjin asks once he’s placed everything where it needs to be and you nod willingly at his request with a small ‘please’.

When the pizza arrives, all three of you are planted on the couch watching a movie Hyunjin had chosen for the three of you. Comfortable and warm under a blanket the three of you are sharing, you almost don’t want to sit up to eat but the rumbling in your belly says otherwise.

Barely an hour after you had finished eating, the movie is at its peak and Hyunjin’s phone rings from where he left it in his room and he jumps up to get it.

You hear him answering with a ‘Hey Chan-hyung’ and you can’t help but wonder what Chan would be calling for at almost nine in the evening.

Mindlessly, you continue watching the movie, unfathomed by Minho’s presence next to you matching his unfazed behavior towards you.

A few moments later, Hyunjin appears in the living room with a hoodie draped over his arm and his car keys hooked around his index finger, he shoots you an apologetic look that makes you want to punch him.

“Chan needs help with Felix,” He says softly, wincing at your glare as if it really does hurt as much as you intend it to.

“What do you mean ‘Chan needs help with Felix’?” You ask more than annoyed - and not because of whatever the reason might be or even that Chan needs help, but rather that you’re stuck here with Minho… and that’s never happened before.

“He’s had a meltdown and he doesn’t know how to calm him down, I could hear how hysterical he is through the phone,” Hyunjin says pleadingly, fighting with your look of desperation although it softens when you realize that it must’ve been pretty serious if even Chan can't calm the younger down, so out of pure compassion for the younger, you nod understandingly.

“I’ll drive,” Minho says, throwing the blanket off of himself to stand up, but halts when Hyunjin gives an awkward sound of hesitance.

“Chan only asked for me, Hyung, I don’t know if Felix will be able to handle too many people at once, but I’ll be back as soon as possible, it should only be an hour or two.”

The look of being completely taken back is so clear on Minho’s face that it could be amusing, but laughing really wouldn't be a nice thing to do, so you bite it back and tell Hyunjin to drive safely and wake you up when he’s back home and he replies with a very grateful ‘thank you’ and a peck to your cheek. You watch him leave, wishing he would just stay and not leave you here with the most annoying man ever to walk this earth.

It felt exceptionally awkward to be alone in the apartment with Minho when all you ever came for was Hyunjin and yet you find yourself alone, with Minho.

He seemed to be keeping to himself in the short while since Hyunjin left, but it was when you grabbed a packet of snacks from the kitchen that Hyunjin bought for you that Minho started his shit.

Instead of politely asking for a snack, he tried snatching it out of your hands, but you anticipated it and held the packet out of reach.

“Share!” Minho yells with a deep frown on his face, which is - needless to say - the first word he’s said to you since he saw you for the first time today, which just infuriates you more because he’s so childish.

“Are you an animal?” You bark sarcastically, literally shoving yourself further away from him into the couch and he snickers at you.

“Only in bed,” He remarks smartly, and you wish you were close enough to hit him for being so blunt. You enjoy people that are blunt, but something about it being Minho of all people makes you hate it.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” You mutter under your breath, deciding to avoid the image that surfaced about Minho and his sexual activities, whatever they might be.

“Didn’t ask you to,” He comments again, lurching himself forward to grab the packet of snacks that found its way to your lap again and this time you’re quick enough to stuff it in between the couch and your left thigh, thinking he’d actually drop this game now.

If he did so much as ask politely like a normal human, you’d be more than willing to share - but two can be petty and play this shitty game.

Thinking he’d stop was clearly the wrong thing to think, because Minho actually lifts himself and stretches over your lap to grab the packet of crushed crisps in your hand, one hand propping himself up and instead of taking the packet, he’s got a tight grip on your thigh, too high up for it to accidental. His long, dark hair falls gently in front of his eyes and you have to remind yourself to not indulge.

“Stop being such a dick, oh my god,” You scold him, the tips of your ears already starting to burn at the glance of his big hand’s hold on your bare thigh. Your words had weight to them. You aren’t exactly talking about now that he’s acting up like this, you actually mean in general, and he seems to instantly get the message, disappointment flashing in his eyes for such a brief moment before they fill with irritation again that he always looks at you with.

He lifts his hand, settling back into a seat on the couch but not as far as he was before with a small scowl settling on his annoyingly perfect features.

As fate would perfectly have it, the movie you were watching has its highly expected romantic scene and you feel like you could simply disappear into the couch. Not because the actors are making out so heavily that it could be classified as porn, but because the scene is unfolding right now, while you’re stuck with Minho and the whole awkwardness of the situation makes you forget about the need to hog the packet the crisps as you settle it down between the two of you, and you allow Minho to reach a hesitant hand into the packet to get some for himself.

“Bet you can’t kiss that well,” He says nonchalantly as he drops a few crumbs into his mouth, tilting his head back as he keeps his eyes on the screen.

You’re unsure what irritates you more - the fact that he’s chosen to mention the erotic scene unfolding in front of you, or the fact that he has the nerve to judge your skills without even knowing anything about it.

“How would you know?” You snap at him, not exactly expecting an answer but still defending yourself.

“Can see it,” He shrugs, reaching forward to take a sip of his drink, “Your lips look so inexperienced.”

You pull your breath in with shock, huffing it out again frustratedly - what the fuck does he know?

In all this, Minho manages to keep his eyes on the screen, watching as the actors begin to undress each other in between their makeout sessions, and you glare at him, but when his head tips back and his throat bobs as he swallows you can’t help the bit of heat coiling in your lower belly.

Minho is an attractive man. In your opinion, he’s pretty much everything you’re into - he’s taller than you with broad shoulders and a slim waist, and you’re honestly a sucker for defined legs. You’ve often scolded yourself for gawking when he’s wearing shorts - like today - and each and every step of his legs flex and flaunt his natural muscles effortlessly.

If he weren't such a dick, you’d honestly allow yourself to indulge in the attraction you have for him, but your resentment toward him makes you hide that rather deeply in your being.

At that moment, the actors’ scene unfolds even further and it’s clear by the camera angle and the female’s moans that he’s going down on her, and your invisible ears perk up at the opportunity to tease him back.

“Bet you can’t give pleasure like that,” You state just as nonchalantly as he did, a hint of teasing in your voice and you’re glad your words have an effect on him as his did on you, he scoffs unamusedly but it’s a reaction nonetheless.

“Sure you’d like to know,” He slips out, his tone of voice changing to a hesitant, careful one and not so cock-sure as it usually is but his words still shock you regardless, Minho has never said anything to you other than something that’s negatively inclined, but here he is actually proposing something with a positive meaning.

He tilts his head to you, eyes boring holes into yours in the calmest way by just keeping his eyes on you as he speaks, “I’m confident you’ve thought about it before too. About me, in that way. I know you think you hate me, but it all boils down to one simple explanation.”

The way he’s calm yet still so sure of himself in classic Minho fashion makes you want to punch his pretty little face, but you know by the heaviness his words lay on your chest that what he’s saying is something you haven’t ever admitted to yourself, but hearing the words you thought you’d never actually have to hear have your thoughts scurrying.

You scoff after a few seconds of intense eye contact, each second causing the flush on your cheeks to spread and intensify, “Bullshit,” Is all you give him, tearing your eyes away from him because the warmth spreading between your legs is telling you to back off before it gets too far.

“See?” He shrugs, “You’re so easily flustered.”

You’re not sure how he’s doing this, how he knows exactly what’s going on in your mind and it’s frightening, but daunting just as much.

“I’m not easily flustered, Minho,” You retaliate, your voice coming out shakier than you would've preferred, but it’s stable enough, or so you hope.

He turns to face you, disbelief and slight annoyance that you’re familiar with glinting in his eyes, “Do you want me to fucking prove it?” He spits, his tone of voice causing a wave of flushed heat to spread over your body.

“Try,” You sing-tell him, raising your eyebrows as your confidence booms back, anticipation deceivingly bubbling in your lower belly.

Minho shifts himself on the couch and skillfully changes his position to get closer to you with one hand placed on the armrest that you’re leaning against and his other hand on the headrest behind you, clearly trying to show some form of dominance as he towers over you.

He's still not close though, keeping careful by staying awkwardly far away from your face which just makes you want to laugh at his feigned confidence.

"Seriously, is this it?" You ask with a sarcastic chuckle that slips out easily because you're somewhat nervous but not willing to admit it just yet.

Lifting his hand from the armrest, Minho wedges his hand between your knees that instinctively came up the moment he slipped closer, and he keeps his gaze locked on yours as he cocks his head to the side, "Scared?" He asks with a cocky glint in his eyes after a beating moment of silence.

You're hesitant, but you're not scared of Minho. The boldness burning through your veins along with the frustration to just prove this dark-haired man on top of you wrong guides your legs to spread open just a little, just enough for him to slip his hand in between your knees.

He smirks, he's satisfied.

Satisfied that his stupid charm is working as it always does, satisfied that he's got you basically trapped beneath him - exactly where he wants you.

His hand feather-lightly glides down the insides of your thighs and he lifts his eyes to meet yours, the same arrogant glint still obvious.

“Wow, look at me all flustered,” You say with a dramatic roll of your eyes, knowing fully well that you’re treading on thin ice with Minho and whatever situation this is and he moves close enough for his breath to fan over your slightly parted lips.

“You better keep quiet before I seriously lose it with you,” He whispers and you know it’s not a threat but a promise, although you’re uncertain that he’d lose it with you physically and just completely storm off, which you - at this point - don’t hope he does.

“Understand?” He asks, slipping in between your legs with his body that you allow with a wider spread of your knees, nodding slowly.

He inches closer until finally, he presses his lips against yours. It's a feeling, an experience, you never actually considered you wanted until this moment. His lips are as soft as you've caught yourself wondering about, and he's eager with a tongue sliding over your bottom lip that you gladly accept.

When he kisses you deeply, you're confident there's no way all that frustration from his side was purely just that, the way he kisses you tells you he's been wanting this too, you're just unsure for how long.

The kiss breaks with a need for air, and Minho's never looked prettier than he does now - hair messy and in the way, eyes slightly hooded, and lips shiny with your spit.

"Hmm, I was right," He whispers, sitting up slightly, "Inexperienced lips."

His comment makes your blood want to boil, is this seriously the same man that just had his tongue in your mouth?

"Are you fucking serious right now, Minho?" You ask him before you can stop your words from pouring out, "You just kissed me!"

"Of course I'm serious," He shrugs, getting up and sitting back down on the couch where he sat before.

His nonchalant reaction has you frustrated beyond words, and the fact that he just leaves you like this makes you really want to get back at him.

So you do.

Your body twitches with annoyance, and you lift yourself to get onto his lap, looking at him with a scowl on your face that he chuckles at.

"What? You thought I was gonna go further?" His words feel like a sting, and embarrassment begins to creep its way in, but you stand your ground nonetheless, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You said I'm easily flustered. I'm still waiting for you to prove your point," You simply state, hoping that this will work and have him continue.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as his eyes shift over your body, deciding.

"Take your shirt off," He says, eyes boring into yours and for a few seconds you just stare at him.

"If you aren't going to take it off, I can't prove my point baby," He says, and maybe the pet name shouldn't cause a flush of heat to spread to your core but does, and you hesitantly take off your loose-fitting blouse and throw it on the floor.

He doesn't say anything as his eyes continue to travel over your torso, and the piercing gaze makes you shift slightly. But that's when you feel it - he's hard.

Your heart wants to leap for joy in your ribcage, you made Minho hard and there's nothing he can do to prove it wrong, so when his hands are placed on the dips of your hips you grind down on him slowly, earning a lip bite of restraint from Minho.

You smirk, "What's the matter, are you hard for me, Min?" You tease.

It was meant to be a tease, and boy did you know you were really pushing the limits by calling him that too, you could feel it in your gut you were really really pushing it.

"Don't tease me," He says in a voice close to a whisper, but it's not weak - it's intimidating, "I'll ruin you."

His threat has a gush of arousal leaking through to your panties which you know are drenched by now, and for some or other unknown reason it only spurs you on to continue teasing him, enjoying the way he's getting harder with each slow grind of your hips.

"So your frustration wasn't just pure frustration then either was it, Min?" You tease again, which you instantly know is a mistake.

Minho’s eyes flash from your naked chest to your eyes and the familiar hint of annoyance is once again evident, and he wraps his arms around your waist, one hand creeping up your neck to grab a handful of hair that he tugs on slightly harsher than it to just be for the sake of the moment, and his warm plushy lips latch onto your throat before his teeth graze over your skin.

The gasp that rips through your chest is involuntary, and you wish you didnt because you can feel his satisfied smirk against your skin but the twitch his dick gives through his shorts is just as pleasing to you.

He pulls back after leaving a sweetly painful bruise on your sensitive skin, and you look down at him with his lips parted and red from their sucking on your skin.

What happens next happens quickly and without a word, and it’s at that moment that you know no words could ever really fit.

Minho hastily tugs at your pants and you lift yourself to remove them, hands flying down to his sweats to pull them down which he helps by lifting his hips too.

You settle back down on his lap, this time a unison satisfied sigh mixing in the small space between the two of you as you grind down on his bare dick.

You know you’d hate yourself if you don't at least catch a glimpse of his cock that you’ve wanted to see for so long, and you glance down between your legs just to see the pretty red tip peeking out. His cock is absolutely beautiful - thick in the shaft and raging red with pretty little veins decorating the skin too.

"Like what you see?" He asks, undoubtedly catching you staring at his dick and all you can muster at this point is a breathless chuckle simply because you do like what you see, a lot.

Minho positions himself, not without stroking his cock against your clit a few times and making you squirm though, and you slightly lift your hips to accommodate him, anticipation bubbling in your throat like magma.

When his cock gently begins to slip inside of you, the stretch is larger than you expected and you grab onto his shoulders for support, which earns a chuckle from the elder beneath you.

You glare at him, that same burning in your core intensifying and he glares right back up at you. It's a fight for dominance over the situation, and you being on top gives you the upper hand - so you sink down on him, ignoring the painful sting as your muscles pull tight to take him.

"Fuck," He groans, eyes fluttering shut at the feel of you around him, and you smirk to yourself at the successful attempt to blow his mind.

You begin to bounce on his cock, and Minho's pleasurable little grunts tell you you're doing well, but his grip on your hips tightens and your hips stop.

His eyes flicker up to yours and the next moment you're both being lifted off of the couch. Minho holds onto your waist and your arms wrap around his shoulders as he carries you to his room.

Before he opens the door he pins you against it and snaps his hips up to buck into you again, and you throw your head back as far as it can go, gasping at the sensation of being fucked against something.

"Feel good, baby?" He whispers, teeth grazing against your jaw as he thrusts little shallow strokes into you.

Your insides churn with confusion, your hate for him has always been burning and vivid, and it's always caused you to be sure of how you feel about him - you hate him. But when his thrusts are shallow and he's close to you, calling you baby you can't help but feel conflicted.

"Tell me," He speaks again, this time his voice slightly louder and he nips at your bottom lip.

"Feels good, Min," You mewl, dipping your head to kiss him. Whatever you feel, or thought you felt, is slowly finding it's rest.

The door opens and Minho takes you into his room, gently laying you down on his bed.

"Ready?" He asks with a gentle voice, once again making your heart flip in your chest, and you nod in confirmation.

Minho keeps his hands next to your head, holding him upright and you wrap your legs around his waist hesitantly.

This time, Minho doesn't hesitate with his thrusts, they are deep and hard and the sound of skin making contact echoes throughout the whole apartment along with your moans at the delicious sting you know you're going to feel tomorrow for the second time.

"Fuck, Min," You breathe out, "Please."

You're unsure what you pleaded him for, you don't even know what you asked for but it felt right, knowing that he'd give you more.

One of his hands travels down your body, from your chest to your lower belly even while he thrusts, and the next moment you feel his thumb gently rubbing circles over your clit.

"Oh god, yes," You mewl, your hands flying up to tangle in his long hair.

The look Minho gives you is one you're unfamiliar with, and it makes your heart skip a beat. His eyes are warm and gentle, eyebrows drawn slightly together at the pleasure, lips parted with small grunts occasionally leaving. You can tell he's holding back, but you're not sure what exactly.

The tension you've both felt between you to was undoubtedly much more than just anger, you realize that now. That same tension had you squirming each time Minho came close or grazed past you, but you simply blamed it on your hate for him, well - you were wrong.

When he kisses you, messier and sloppier than before, his thumb hits the right pace along with his cock teasing your insides so sweetly.

"Fuck you're clenching so tight," He whines when you break the kiss for air, "You're gonna make me cum like this."

His words have the tight knot in your stomach threatening to snap and you pull him in for another kiss, allowing the knot to snap when he sets an impossibly harder pace to chase his own high.

"Min, 'm gonna cum, fuck" You moan into his mouth and he pushes you over the edge when he groans into your ear.

You cum, hard. So hard that it feels like it lasts forever and he simply fucks you through it, till your thighs jiggle with oversensitivity.

"Oh god," His hips stutter, failing for the first time in their perfect pace.

You wince when he abruptly pulls out, and he climbs over your thighs and lap to rest on your chest.

The sight is so beautiful it has you clenching a final time. Minho jerks his cock with fast pumps around the head and you make a mental note to remember that that's what he likes should this ever happen again, and he throws his head back as he gives one final groan, his fist stopping as his cum pours out of the red tip all over your chest.

You can't help but watch the scene unfold so deliciously, the sight of Minho being fucked out so mind-blowing you hope it's burnt into your brain forever.

"Shit," He breathes heavily, giving a last few strokes to his softening cock and looking down at you, "I was wrong though."

Disbelief settles like an anchor in your belly, "What are you talking about?" You ask hesitantly.

Minho bends down, and holds your face between his hands, "You feel better than I imagined," He smiles, and it's not a cocky or arrogant smile, it's genuine.

He kisses you again, it's unexpected but you welcome it eagerly, and he sucks on your bottom lip once more.

"Go shower, I'll make us something to eat," He says as he climbs off of you and you get up as well.

You look back at Minho before leaving the room, he lays sprawled out on his bed, chest still heaving slightly as he stares at the ceiling, unaware of your eyes watching him.

Before turning away, you watch his lips curl into a smile as his hands cover his face, the tips of his ears a burning red.

You hope this isn't the last time you get to see Minho like this, and with that, you turn to the bathroom.

#seiki's fic rec 🕷#skz smut #lee minho smut #skz lee minho #lee minho x reader #minho smut #minho x reader #skz Minho smut

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httpseiki · 9 months

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dude, imagine spending your time to create a story, putting all your creativity and patience into it, then you post it for people to enjoy and in return, you get your story reposted by someone else...

and the fact that they did it TWICE?!?? like miss gurl, please use your own mind???

and a friendly reminded that changing the characters involved won't give you any rights to a fic you straight up STOLEN.

it's people like this that make me lose motivation to post istg...

🚨🚨ATTENZIONE! ATTENZIONE!!! PICKPOCKET!!! 🚨🚨

so this creator stole TWO fics from inactive accounts!! and im gonna alert everyone before they keep going.

these are the posts they’ve flat out stolen. not rewritten or anything. they copied and pasted these original works.

baby fever- @3rachaslay

from 3rachaslay stolen from hyunjinjagi

desperate for me/little miss naughty- @hoshzone

from hoshzone stolen from hyunjinjagi

i encourage you all to read them both for yourselves to see and give support to the original writers! 🤍 i’m all for reworking and rewriting ideas but copying original work and passing it off as your own is simply unacceptable. i look forward to reading the ORIGINAL work from hyunjinjagi

update: the account has been deactivated

#jail time #no fr someone invent a tumblr jail #it would be useful #sigh #seiki's nonsense #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #stray kids #skz #seventeen #svt #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine

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httpseiki · 9 months

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not me crying at the end 😭😭😭

I'm so soft for minho in general, but this just made me meeeelttt bcus sub drop is just hurtful :( but I'm glad they talked things out

and the scene part was goddamn hot?? and the explanation of the sub space psychology??? I might be biased due to my psychology major, but dude that was so good and sexy, ghjewhaaat😻😻😻

anyways, loved it a lot heheheheheeee

TITLE: Siphoned Guilt

PAIRING: reader x Minho

MASTERLIST

WC: 9.4K

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SYNOPSIS: things always run smoothly during a scene with Minho - always. But an unintentional lack of proper aftercare can make for a terrible sub drop…

TAGS: smut, unprotected sex, use of a sex toy (vibrator), consensual filming, impact play, mirror sex, sub space (reader), sub drop (reader), overstimulation, orgasm torture, squirting, BDSM, humiliation, mean!Minho, degradation (reader is called ‘slut’ and ‘whore’), swearing, crying (reader), slight angst but resolve.

TAGLIST: @heres-your-ramen2000

“Open,” says Minho with his hand extended out to your mouth.

You hum with content, taking everything that he gives you eagerly that a bit of it even spills down your chin. Once you’ve swallowed, Minho uses his thumb to swipe across your lips to collect the residue. He then brings it up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

A scowl falls across your face as your eyes narrow at him, “you did that on purpose.”

“You’re right,” he replies shamelessly. “I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“Course you did.”

“Any good?” He asks you, waiting patiently for your review.

“I’ve had better,” you shrug.

Minho sighs and gently smacks his closed fist on the table, “should’ve gone for the crème brûlée.”

“Next time,” you say to him. “And speaking of next time, when are we up for another scene?”

The question sparks thoughts in Minho’s brain. That was what you were hoping this date would initiate - a discussion for another scene, but also because you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend. The last one from over a week ago is still fresh in Minho’s memory. So far, it was probably one of the best scenes he’s ever had.

All of it leads to him thinking inappropriate things in the middle of a busy, overcrowded restaurant. Oh if anyone could read his mind right now.

“Whenever you’re ready baby,” he answers with a soft smile on his face. “Have any ideas so far?”

You dig your spoon into the pear flavoured ice cream, blinking up once and then back down at the dish, “I might.”

Minho leans across the table, for some reason growing even more giddy on the inside, “I’m all ears.”

“I really liked the last scene - a lot,” you start off. “I liked the intensity and was thinking maybe we could do something similar.”

He’s glad to hear those words and replies, “I’m happy that you liked it. What was one of the aspects that you enjoyed the most?”

“The impact play.”

“I thought that might’ve been one.”

“And then at the end…when you were…were like-”

“Fucking you?” Minho helps you with your sentence there, a little bit too loudly at that.

“Yes,” you continue, hoping your face isn’t as red as it feels. “It was just you that made me do that, not a…toy or anything.”

Minho’s heart skips a beat. His face also feels hot when he hears that it was just him that made you cum as crazy as you did. It’s still fresh in his memory - the first time that he made you squirt. So far since the scene, Minho hasn’t stopped thinking about that very moment.

“Oh yeah?” He winks across at you, playing cool.

Underneath the table, you lightly kick him in the shin for his comment. Being out at dinner discussing bedroom matters wasn’t necessarily unusual. It got you both out of the house to spend some quality time together other than only having sex.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat.

“Shall we say in a couple of days then?” He suggests.

“That works.”

The date had then been settled after dinner. You and Minho both figured that in two evenings time would be fitting to slot in a scene. It’s not always manageable when you’re both busy and then having to make room for the amount of energy that will be expended during and after it.

But you were teeming with anticipation to play again.

A few days to prepare was necessary. It gave you both time to discuss everything and to also get into the correct frame of mind heading into the scene. Being in an unwanted mental space prior to one is guaranteed to cause the scene to go haywire.

As the day rolled around, Minho was equally excited. You both discussed the factors you wanted to cover from the previous scene, and also something new that he wanted to introduce with your consent. After hearing him out, you were on board with his idea.

On the bed, Minho laid out a number of items that were going to be used. He then moves on to helping you fully undress, placing your clothes neatly on the other side of the bed and comes back to pick up the black strands of rope.

“Colour?” he asks you.

“Green.”

With that, Minho begins to create a karada box tie that frames your chest. The method of using shibari is a lot more intricate than standard restraints. The finished product is photo worthy, a precursor as to why Minho had his phone set on the bed too. Once he completes your chest area, Minho then binds your arms together behind your back with another set of rope.

“Now, does anything pinch in any way you feel like it shouldn’t?”

You test the restraint by trying to move your arms just to be sure. The binds are tight and sturdy - nothing too exceedingly uncomfortable which is how it’s meant to be. There’s no sharp, unnecessary or immediate pain that should hinder you throughout the scene.

“No, it’s okay,” you answer.

“Good,” Minho replies.

“Not tying up the rest of me?” You ask, trying to look at his work in the mirror.

“You have no trouble keeping your legs open for me without restraints,” he answers. “I think you’ll be fine for now but I’ll be using some more later.”

You gulp down the embarrassing truth before you wonder why Minho steps around you to grab the mirror and bring it closer to you both. Oddly enough, he then takes a seat on the floor, leaning his back against the end of the bed.

“Over my lap and turn your face towards the mirror,” he instructs.

The last time you questioned him during a scene, he easily put you in your place. But today, you had a strong impression that he’s not going to fuck around, so you move right away.

You stand beside him before kneeling down onto one knee, followed by the other. With his support, Minho helps you down carefully and slowly so that your ass is mainly over his lap and the side of your face is on the floor.

The position isn’t comfortable. But when is it not? That’s how it’s meant to be. You were on the floor during the last scene and this was no different.

“Alright then, colour?”

“Green.”

Smack!

The first hit takes you by surprise that it doesn’t leave you with a whole ordeal of stinging pain. Usually you’re not complacent about Minho’s unpredictability, but for a split second you thought he was going to ease into it.

Not tonight however. Minho is under the intention to absolutely ruin you.

His hand pelts down hard again. You bite down on your lip and submerge in the sting. A couple of more then follow and it doesn’t get any easier. In some cases, Minho’s hands hit harder than any belt or paddle you’ve come across. It almost feels personal when it isn’t.

Then, another one slaps down mercilessly to yank you from your thoughts.

“Fuck,” you mumble quietly to yourself.

“Watch your mouth,” Minho warns, cracking his hand down even harder this time to make your entire body jolt.

He hits down a couple of more times for your remark, reminding you that playing up or misbehaving is not an option. To truly reinforce that rule, he switches to the paddle he had set out earlier.

It’s black, smooth, wooden, and thin. Unlike thicker paddles, this one can leave a sharp sting behind but also makes it feel like some sort of blunt force on impact. You experience it firsthand when Minho smacks it down hard onto your ass.

Shaking on the strike, you try to keep your mouth closed. But even that doesn’t stop you from making inaudible sounds. You moan and whine when Minho starts putting more force behind the paddle. It sucks all of your attention and energy to try and subdue the ever emerging pain which is exactly what he wants.

He understands the science behind a person experiencing pain and the link that has to our fight or flight mode. The more pain he administers to you through impact play, the more of those ‘happy’ endorphins are released into your body to try numb it. The more that’s released, the more chances Minho has of getting you into sub space.

Therefore, right down to the molecular level, even there he wants to ruin you.

To further taunt you, he delicately glides the paddle from the top of your back, slowly down your spine and over your marked ass. It was to plant a thought in your head to make you think you were going to take another hit when in reality, he wanted to keep you guessing. Instead, Minho takes the paddle and glides it in between your pussy.

That’s what unhinges your jaw for moans to keep spilling out and to fill the room as the paddle glides lovingly over your wet clit.

“I bet that feels good, huh?” Minho asks.

“Y-Yes,” you exasperate, squirming under the touch.

He brings the paddle back up and shows you in the mirror. It glistens with your juices which sends you hurtling into embarrassment. Impact play isn’t always considered as foreplay, and yet you’re already wet from it and for what’s to be used in between your legs eventually.

Minho sets the paddle down and decides to feel what’s his for himself. He uses his fingers, toying and teasing your clit so much that it makes your wriggle in his lap. You being so wet makes it effortless for him to slide a finger inside you.

“Of course it does, otherwise you wouldn’t be this wet. Would you?” Minho comments, making you flush with shame.

You don’t respond - you don’t know how until Minho strikes his hand down on your ass again, causing you to take in a sharp breath and clench around his fingers.

“Would you?” he demands for an answer.

“Yes!” You yelp while your arms strain themselves in the rope. “I love it.”

“That’s right,” he says, soothing your asscheek with the palm of his hand. “And that’s what makes you such a slut. Even if I don’t fuck you or tease you, you’ll still get wet for me.”

With that, Minho removes his fingers and spanks you hard once more. From there, the amount of hits you take continue to stack up. You’re unsure of how many you’ve actually clocked, but figured it was reaching a lot when you start feeling the hazy horizon of faded awareness.

It’s where your energy begins to lessen that even trying to nod in response to his comment begins to take a lot out of you. It’s the point in which all your attention then shifts to when Minho suddenly grasps one cheek, forcing moan after moan from your mouth. His other hand spanks down a few times on the other cheek, confusing your mind with two different types of pain.

“Mmm! F-Fuck…please Minho!” You cry out as tears begin pricking your eyes.

The man doesn’t listen and switches tactics. This time he squeezes both of your asscheeks with absolutely no remorse, making you kick your feet and bite down so hard on your lip that you feel like it might bleed.

He doesn’t care if you’re shaking or starting to cry until your tears roll onto the floor. It’s what he knows best to help make your brain slip - pain and pleasure, which he wants to deliver once you’ve reached a peak of no return.

He won’t stop until you’re no longer trembling, until you just start taking it. When your body becomes limp, that’s when Minho knows you’re succumbing to the pain and where it starts feeling good.

“I told you to watch your mouth,” he hissed through gritted teeth and finally released his hands. “Know your place.”

When his hands ease up, he can already see deep burgundy shades of red starting to bruise through your skin. To torture you further, Minho gently massages the flesh of your ass. Your legs strain out in reaction as the pain lingering in over your skin begins to spread and intensify just from those soft touches.

You bite down again, limiting your moans to short, muffled whimpers. Trying to have a handle on your reactions is nearly impossible, not when Minho switches back to spanking you. The pain rises to a point where it’s overwhelming and as a result, you start to hold your breath to deal with the intensity.

Minho’s sharp ears pick up on the lack of sounds you’re no longer making. He pays no mind to it at first, but prompts you soon after so that you’re not going to pass out.

“Breathe,” he says coldly.

Even though his tone was pointed, it was still an instruction and you were going to listen. Relaxing a little bit allows your lungs to start working again. Minho gives your ass a rest, for now.

He gently strokes over your hair and slowly down your spine. His hand glides softly over your marked ass, admiring the fresh and blotchy bruises.

With one firm and final spank, Minho calls an end to the impact play portion of the scene and moves into something as equally as exciting.

“I’ll help you sit up on my lap and then I want you in between my legs,” he says.

Whatever that means you have no idea. Your mind is starting to drift off towards that happy space where time and problems don’t exist. Sooner than later, you realise that you’re sitting on the floor, propped in front of Minho before the mirror. It’s a bit tricky when you have your arms bound, but he manages. Once you’re pressed right up against him, Minho reaches for something behind him on the bed; the other sets of rope and two other items.

Why he chose the mirror, you had no idea. Not in your liquid like mind could you articulate a proper thought. But for Minho, it wasn’t as trivial. After the previous scene, he quickly discovered a new kink of his - mirror sex. Or at least, making you cum in front of a mirror.

Not only does he want to see every part of what you look like when you cum, but he wants you to see it too. He wants you to watch how he can unravel you, how he can make you lose your mind.

“Prop your legs up for me,” he orders.

One by one, you plant your feet on the ground so that your knees bend like Minho’s. He scoots up more behind you, grabs some of the black rope, leans around to the left, and begins tying your ankle to his.

He continues the same action with another set of rope, this time, securing you to him by and under your knee. Minho then completes more of the rope restraints in the exact same places for your other leg - ensuring that you’re tied to Minho himself and not able to move your lower half.

In a semi-lucid state, you’re able to gauge why he wants to do this in front of the mirror. Your legs are spread for the pair of you to see. Although it’s rather humiliating to be so exposed, Minho will never get enough of seeing you so vulnerable like this.

“Look at you,” he whispers.

Too embarrassed to see the reflection, you try to shy away from looking. Instead, Minho uses your hand to gently grip under your chin and face you towards the mirror himself.

“This is what’s going to happen,” he adds sternly. “You’re going to cum - as many times as I say you are, and you’re not going to stop unless I say so.”

Overstimulation. It was a topic of discussion in the conversation you both agreed upon leading up to the scene. Similar to impact play, it also happens to be one of your weak points in the sense that it will effortlessly make you lose your mind.

Minho then reaches for something beside him - a vibrator. This one was different to the toy that he used in the previous. Minho bought it for you a couple of months back and was rather fond of using it on you than a usual vibrator. It can be isolated just over your clit, replicating sucking motions that would have your brain melt in seconds.

The first time Minho used it on you, he managed to make you cum easily in under thirty seconds. That’s how you knew it was going to be tough.

“Colour?” He asks.

Almost too busy trying to mentally prepare yourself, you utter your answer, “g-green.”

Minho acknowledges your response and turns the vibrator on. Thinking he would place it straight over your clit was a bad idea, not when he takes it to your nipple instead.

Your head tips back over his shoulder, “oh my god…”

The sucking motions were nothing short of phenomenal. It’s not exactly where you want to feel pleasure at the moment, but you’ll grasp onto anything to feel good.

You suck in a sudden breath when Minho eventually takes the vibrator to your clit. It was then where you realised that the ropes were beginning to serve their purpose of keeping your legs apart. As much as you want to move them, Minho's strength proves you can’t. They’re open for him, and they’ll remain that way until he’s satisfied.

“Already so wet,” Minho mutters quietly. “You’re going to be a good girl and cum for me right?”

“Y-Yes…” you mumble mindlessly, trying to keep up with the vibrator.

“Good,” he adds smoothly. “But I want to see you actually live up to that answer.”

In this instance it was easier done than said. Minho decides to crank the speed up on the toy, getting you to the edge faster than you could blink back at yourself in the mirror. Before you know it, Minho’s name spills out of your mouth repeatedly.

“Fuck…gonna cum, oh my god. Minho…please.”

“That’s it, cum for me,” he urges you.

Your voice lodges in your throat as the first orgasm of the night washes over you. From there, your eyes screw shut as you fall silent to the pleasure that’s releasing. Minho consumes your expression, watching how you struggle to handle such a big orgasm. Those thoughts rush to his already hard dick.

With one final shudder, the euphoria dies down and Minho takes the vibrator away for a few moments to give you a short rest. But it doesn’t allow any time for you to fully catch your breath by the time he decides to go back in with the toy. Your body trembles upon those fast vibrations.

“Keep your eyes open,” Minho whispers in your ear. “I want you to watch yourself when you cum.”

You’re unsure if you can. There was little to no cooldown between your first orgasm and your next, but either way, it’s clear what your body wants to do and you can’t stop it. With the pleasure building at a speed you’re unable to keep up with, your eyes lock onto yourself in the mirror by the time you actually cum. You’re looking at what Minho has done to you - how he’s swiftly unravelling you.

He can’t take his gaze off of you in the reflection. Never in his life does he ever think he’ll get over the way you look when you cum.

“That’s two,” he says to you, still holding the vibrator over your clit. “Look how much you’re dripping onto the floor.”

As you attempt to turn your head away, Minho counters and holds your jaw to make sure that you can actually see.

“Such a slut for me, huh? Always so wet…always wanting to be fucked,” he whispers directly in your ear.

Your upper body shivers under his warm breath, squirming so much that you're pressing even further into Minho from behind. It gives you the lucrative opportunity to feel how hard he is even though he’s fully clothed. Despite your hands being bound, you’re still able to awkwardly rub against him. At first, he passes it off as unintentional. It wasn’t until you really started to try to touch his dick that he caught onto what you wanted to do.

His hand comes up to latch onto a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back but not enough for you to be leaning over his shoulder. The sting in your scalp makes the pleasure building in the pit of your tummy even more intense.

He presses back into your ear and threatens, “keep trying to touch me and the scene ends.”

“I-I…can’t help it,” you murmur.

“Yes you can,” he hisses. “And you will. You’re not going to get anything in return.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumble, ignoring his warning. Minho rolls his eyes. He almost forgot that he was still holding the vibrator to your clit.

“Course you are,” he replies, releasing the grip on your hair.

“Yes, yes…yes, please fuck!”

A quiet string of moans fills the room as you’re forced to watch yourself cum once again in the mirror. Minho feels your legs trembling hard against his own. Gradually, he’s put in some more strength to firmly keep your legs open. To him it proves that the orgasms he’s giving you are getting stronger.

“That was a long one, huh?” He asks you, seeing if he can douse you with any more humiliation. But you’ve passed that point now.

When he brings you to your next few orgasms, your mind has entered another realm. It’s floating somewhere that’s not on this planet as your body becomes even more overstimulated than it already is. The pain from the impact play hasn’t necessarily subdued. It’s definitely aching from your lower half since you’ve spent some time on the ground, but it’s faint.

In addition, you’ve gradually given up on fighting those orgasms. Even though they feel good and you want them to approach at a slow pace, you’re officially just taking them as they come. As a result, Minho no longer has to put any effort into it with his own legs to keep yours apart.

“Gonna give me another one, yeah?”

You’re unsure of whether you can or not. Then again, that’s not up for you to decide. Minho has pushed you to your limits during scenes many times. More than four orgasms is the optimum limit before you start losing your mind. But at this point, you’re way beyond that.

You’ll cum regardless if you think you can or not. As long as Minho continues to hold that vibrator against your clit, you will cum.

“P-Please…” you whimper, anticipating the buildup to explode inside of you.

“Please what?” Minho questions impatiently.

“I…I need to…” your attempt at a reply was futile but genuine. Your body feels like it’s going to burst but your brain can’t help you get the sentences out.

“Need to, what?” he asks with a sharp tone, growing obviously impatient. “Use your words properly.”

Before you can even carry out his instruction, you’re already coming. Your eyes screw shut, your mouth parts, and nothing but Minho’s name comes out. You can’t help but tremble and shake as the vibrations rattle your entire body. He watches it all gloriously unfold in the mirror.

“I suppose that’s seven then,” he says in a very condescending tone.

As much as he wants to continue with the vibrator, he decides to switch it off. From there, the room falls quiet - apart from the jagged breaths you take after finally being able to rest for a few moments. Or so you thought once again.

Minho sets the toy to the side then picks up his phone. He swipes his thumb across his screen to set his camera on and switches to video to start recording. You’re unaware of what’s entirely happening, but remember faintly that it was one of his ideas in the conversation leading up to the scene.

“How would you feel about me taking a video?” He suggested to you earlier on.

“Of the whole thing? Do you even have enough storage for that?” You replied.

“Well, not all of the scene. Just one part. But what are your thoughts on me doing that?”

Sure there were a lot of questions around what was going to happen next, but Minho is a good man, he’d never in his life or in his next ever use it against your will. It’s just solely for his own entertainment whenever he needs you and you’re not around. If anything, it’s hot knowing that he can get off to a video of you…

“I’m okay with that,” you said to him clearly.

From that conversation, Minho managed to factor that risqué essence into the scene just by taking a video.

“Dripping on the floor,” he says to the camera, capturing the images through the reflection of the mirror.

The fact that he’s not directly talking to you but to the video instead is some inviting form of being objectified. It makes you feel like a ‘thing’ that he’s referring to. Either way, it’s not like you’re able to respond to his remark. You’re bound to cum, both figuratively and literally.

Only this time, it’ll be with his fingers. At first, he teases your entrance, trying to trick you into thinking that he's about to finger fuck you. At the same time, he manages to focus the camera on his hand where it glistens, making sure he captures it all.

“This is how badly she wants to be fucked,” Minho boists, then brings his hand up to your mouth.

He doesn’t even need to tell you to open up. You’ve become so pliant that everything you do is just purely automatic. His fingers ease and glide over your yielding tongue, tasting yourself as he explores your mouth - all on camera, all for him.

“Such a good slut for me,” he praises.

After a few lingering moments, he pulls his slick fingers away and takes them down to your clit like he’s in a hurry to make you cum. Your body stiffens for a few seconds as he draws light circles over the over sensitive nub, then inserts one digit. It’s a relieving sensation to have something inside you. Although it’s not Minho’s dick, it just seems to take the edge off.

But unfortunately, he doesn’t decide to finger fuck you. He just continues to massage and rub over your sensitive clit for the video he’s still filming. The wet sounds and tiny puffs of air mixed with inaudible moans coming from your mouth are all captured for him - something that he can rewatch whenever he feels like it.

Whimpers and mewls begin to strain from the back of your throat. The strong sensation ploughs mercilessly throughout your body, tremoring in its wake.

“There we go,” he whispers. “You’re getting louder, I almost thought you were getting camera shy on me for a second.”

The transition from a high speed vibrating toy to Minho's fingers is unfathomable. He’s so attentive, teasing, and just good at what he does. It almost makes you wonder how he can do what he’s doing before the two of you met…

…that thought seems to stay longer in your brain. But it’s not currently strong enough to lull you right out of sub space. For now, you ready yourself for another eye rolling orgasm that Minho gives to you all while he films it. Through the lens and the reflection of the mirror, he studies your expression as you cum.

He basks in the tiny moans from your mouth as he brings you to your next orgasm.

“Min…I’m cumming,” you utter quietly just before that wave hits.

“That’s it,” he plants a kiss to the side of your head while continuing to film as your orgasm washes over you completely. “Be a good whore and cum for me.”

The thread that your sanity has been hanging on had snapped a while ago, but now even more so now that Minho is still completely ruining you just with his fingers. It’s more personal and attentive.

Seconds later, your orgasm tilts hard once more, with your eyes fluttering back and barely any sound coming out of your mouth. Just seeing you so unhinged is enough for Minho to abandon his phone and begin untying the rope around your legs that binds you to him.

His hands work quickly to undo all of the knots. The sick frantic feeling inside him boils hotter than ever now that he’s seconds away from being able to fuck you. All he has to do is help carefully lower you onto the floor once again - face down ass up.

Minho grins when he sees the blooming bruises over the flesh of your ass from impact play earlier on. He slaps a cheek once, but you barely feel any pain. As expected from a person deep in the realms of sub space.

“You’re gone aren’t you?” He practically asks the question to himself since there’s no chance of him getting a response.

One second you hear the rustling of his pants and in the next you feel the tip of his cock gliding gently over your slit.

“Yes, fuck-“ he hisses, one of his hands already gripping your ass again. His head tips back as he pushes the tip in slowly then back out. Slowly but eventually, Minho has stuffed you full to the absolute hilt.

“Shit,” his eyes almost roll to the back of his head from the wet heat wrapping around his dick.

Despite how extremely overstimulated you are, there's a relief that spreads throughout your body as a triggered response to be filled out by his cock. On top of the dull pain that’s put you under and the haziness your brain is submerged in, you still feel pleasant. That satisfaction of finally being able to clench around something is enough for more euphoria to start building once more.

Minho then eases himself into a steady pace. If he starts fucking too hard, too fast, he’ll cum before he gets the chance to say so. But Minho’s needs are insatiable at this rate. The minute his cock is inside of you, all of his rationale is out the gate.

So he caves into his own greed. He snaps his hips forward, harder and faster, swearing under his breath in the process. You can almost feel his fingernails dig into the skin of your ass when he begins approaching the edge of his own orgasm.

With a few shallow thrusts, he takes it slow for a short while, “feel…so good,” he mutters to himself.

The pressure rises in the pit of your stomach to an unfathomable intensity. That dense sensation grows so much that you hold zero idea of how hard it’s going to hit. Meanwhile, Minho continues to thrust at a pace that satiates his own needs without cumming too early. But the feeling of your walls clenching unintentionally around him makes it difficult to hold back.

With your inability to count in the present moment, in some far away thought, you knew you were about to cum again. Minho knew it too, he could feel it happening in real-time when began hitting that very spot that can make you spasm without warning - make you cum without warning.

It happens too fast for your mind to catch up, but the burst or euphoria explodes rapidly throughout every cell in your body. The feeling is indescribable, making you tremble and squirt for Minho as you’re about to hit that wave.

“Min…p-please, I’m cumming…” you strangle with the words for them to come out of your mouth.

“I know baby, cum for me…one more time.”

There was no controlling it but Minho couldn’t give a shit. He wants it - needs it. To feel and see just how much he’s making you cum. It’s on the floor, almost making your knees slip as Minho fucks into you harder than he’s ever done tonight.

You can’t see the sick grin on his face when he realises what he’s made you do.

“That’s it,” he sighs from the relief he’s getting while your walls clench around him.

Minho breaks through into pure ecstasy. He feels high on how good the sensations are right now. It’s not too long after a few more decent thrusts before he starts spilling white inside of you, coating your walls and gripping your hips.

He needs to give himself some time to come down from that. The sheer intensity of his own orgasm makes him think how you were even able to handle more than five in one go. Then again, he knew in the back of his mind that you could do it.

He gently slides out of you, pulling up his pants and leaning back on his heels to admire the view he created while he catches his breath. It then dawns on him that he needs to get you out of your restraints.

He unties your arms first before helping you sit up. It feels good to not feel so restricted anymore. But even though the rope is gone, it still feels like it's there. Even when you make it onto the bed on your own - without his help, your entire body feels like it’s bound.

“I’ll be back.”

You hear Minho’s voice in the distance as he walks out of the room. Everything is cold and filled with silence. It’s not something you've experienced after an intense scene. It’s not doable to speak because you lack the energy to speak up.

There’s a low buzz in your brain from the point where Minho had gotten up from the floor. From what you can recall, Minho had made you cum more times than you can almost count on both hands. Having one orgasm takes enough energy out of a person let alone at least nine - one after the other from repetitive overstimulation.

All those ‘feel-good’ chemicals in your brain have suddenly dried up, creating cold moments of self-awareness where the pain Minho had unleashed is starting to catch up to you. The realisation becomes entirely sobering that it feels like there is more pain than what was initially there to begin with. Your ass stings, throbs, and burns. Not in the way you normally welcome.

Even with him in the same room getting ready to clean and sterilise the equipment he used, something just doesn’t feel right. You feel cold and empty but unsure of what it actually is to make a full assumption.

The other half of your attention is drawn back to what just took place. In some aspects, you were caught up with the idea that maybe Minho might’ve felt annoyed or even dissatisfied with your performance. He said you were loud, had to tell you to breathe, to not touch him when he said you weren’t allowed…

When everything began to stack on top of each other and your guard was down, insecurities seeped in. As a result, you just felt like a gross, icky, and used thing. As that thought hits, you feel tears well up in your eyes. To avoid raising suspicion from Minho, you prop yourself up from the bed and start heading for the shower.

“What are you doing?” He asks, watching you.

“Having a shower,” you answer, wobbly on your feet. Your throat was a bit croaky, having not been able to speak properly in over an hour.

“But, you don’t want to lie down a bit more?” He questions. “That scene wasn’t easy-“

“No, it’s okay,” you interrupt him. “I just need one now.”

Minho’s eyes scan your expression. If you’re okay, then he is. The only issue is that he doesn’t truly know that you’re not okay. You understand that it’s something you should tell him immediately, but with the state of mind that you’re in, something tells you that he doesn’t care.

He watches you cautiously once more and takes your word for it, “alright then.”

In the end, the shower didn’t help anything. It made space to recollect the past hour which invited unwanted thoughts. You began to linger on Minho’s words from before that had notes of disappointment and disdain for how you performed.

All these insecurities you would’ve have ever thought you had in bed, just kept popping up in your brain. It made you wonder what Minho actually thought of you - if he really loved you.

That thought would float around in your mind for the next few days post-scene. It threw you off wanting to complete any work whatsoever. In the end, you just narrowed it down to being in a bad slump, right until you hit rock bottom the next time you and Minho decided to have sex days later.

It was an odd feeling.

You were horny and needed him terribly, but that never surpassed the level of the empty and cold feelings in your chest. It was a strange thought, but you wondered maybe if you and Minho did have sex, that emptiness would disappear - both figuratively and literally.

It wasn’t long until there was an answer to your question. After fifteen minutes of foreplay, you had already been made to cum once after Minho was desperate to go down on you. It wasn’t the best of orgasms that you’ve had, but it had nothing to do with his performance.

When he did eventually start fucking you, you then realised that your brain was too preoccupied with stuffing those feelings of emptiness down. You weren’t in the moment, tainted by whatever dark hole you seemed to be slipping down.

You had been so deeply focused on trying to cum once more to make up for the first orgasm that by the time it hit you, it fizzled out before it started. Frustrated, angry, and sad, all of those emotions combined were enough to make you cry. The tears had rolled down the side of your face only to be soaked up by the pillow below.

Minho had mistakenly assumed that you did cum and pulled out once he finished himself off inside of you. From there, you didn’t think the awful feelings could get any worse.

It began to bleed into other parts of your life in the days afterwards, like when a couple of your friends noticed you had gone quiet on them after they invited you out multiple times.

‘If Minho is holding you hostage, lmk and I’ll come get you’, a text from Chan read.

‘Class is boring without you. Who’s notes am I going to copy? :(‘, another text came through from Jisung.

The guilt settled in from not contacting them back. Even seeing them from a distance on campus but not able to show your face made it all the more worse. You just didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Minho. It helped that he was busy and distracted with his own studies, but the second you stopped responding to his texts too, the thought occurred to him that something wasn’t right.

It occurred to him during one of lectures to talk to you afterwards at home, so decided to make a mental note about it and waited for you to return.

To his disappointment, you weren’t home by the usual time after you finished for the day. He decided to wait another half an hour before texting you to ask where you were. Again, falling short, he never received a reply from you. It wasn’t only until an hour and a half later did you finally return back to the apartment.

Minho emerges from the lounge, meeting you at the front door, “hey baby, did you get my texts?”

You pause for a second, meeting his eyes and noticing that he looks rather shaken yet relieved. While trying to figure out why, you reach for your phone in the back of your pocket and switch it back on.

“Why was your phone off?” He prods with another question.

“I was out,” you respond honestly then look down at your screen to see a few messages from him. “Oh, now I see your texts.”

Minho doesn’t take his gaze off you when you place your phone away again and go to hang your keys on the hook by the door. He’s trying to articulate your body language and why you’re not meeting his eyes. To him it makes it look like you have something to hide.

“Out?” He asks. “Who were you out with?”

“Yeah, just with Chan and Jisung. I haven’t seen them in a while and we decided to catch up,” you answer.

Minho would never suspect you of cheating, yet there was just something about your odd behaviour lately that made him think otherwise. He felt like a terrible boyfriend for even thinking anywhere along those lines. But the second he heard you were with Chan and Jisung, he could breathe a little easier.

“Okay,” he nods, sighing with relief to himself. “Has everything been okay lately?”

That sinking question makes you feel sick. You don’t want to talk about anything simply because you don’t feel like it and also because you don’t know how. It’s been a difficult week trying to climb yourself out of a hole that you didn’t know how you ended up in.

“Yeah, I’ve been really tired lately and I’m not getting proper rest,” you answer, moving past him to get to the kitchen.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” he trails behind you shortly after. “All your texts have been saying the same thing for the past week.”

You sigh, trying further to get him off your case, “because I have been. There’s not that much to it.”

Minho can see the wall you’re putting up. There’s no point trying to climb it because all you’ll do is build it higher to the point where you’ll shut down even further. He needs to figure his way around it.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “How about you take a couple of days off to get some rest?”

“I can’t,” you answer. “I’ve got tests and tutorials and exams coming up that I need to prepare for.”

“Yeah but, you can’t just run yourself to the ground babe,” Minho digs his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You’ll burn out before our semester ends.”

“Isn’t that how University is though? It’s just a few sacrifices, it’s nothing new,” you respond defensively.

The wall keeps going up…

Minho backs down, plays it safe. He doesn’t want to prod too much to the point where you won’t tell him anything. At that moment, he thinks of the future. Even though you’re both on the brink of an argument, he’d do everything in his power to help resolve it. He thinks fighting is pointless, but it’s inevitable at times.

“Alright,” he nods, taking a step closer towards you. He slowly leans down and kisses you gently on the cheek, something he hasn’t done in a while. “I’m sorry baby. I just want you to be healthy and to look after yourself.”

Looking after yourself - it’s not something that you’ve done for the past seven days. It’s a shit feeling too. You’ve felt so down and depleted, running low on energy. Being around people - particularly the one you love, has acted as an agitator for you to avoid him.

You can’t believe your emotional instability within this past week as everything kept descending into a spiral that feels impossible to get out of. The blessing in disguise is that Minho can see all of that written on your puzzled and worried expression.

His initiative kicks in before his hands pull you into his body for a well-needed hug. It’s not for his own selfish reasons of just wanting to feel you close to him, but because he senses something isn’t right.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling the best, baby. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on right now, but I’ll still be here,” he says softly.

His firm hold around you, his warmth, touch, it’s all enough for the glass to crack beneath your feet. For you to start falling into sadness once more. Even though you don’t let onto it, tears start falling from your eyes. When you breathe in and shudder, that’s when Minho realises you’re crying.

Minho’s eyes widen and his brain comes to a screeching halt. It’s been days since you’ve started feeling like this and there’s only one reason he could conjure as to why.

“How long have you felt this way for?” He questions.

You gently pull away from him, rubbing your eyes with the backs of your sleeves, “since the last scene.”

“The last…that was a week ago?”

“I know,” you answer defeatedly, and with guilt. “Right after the scene I didn’t feel good, and I know - I know, I should’ve told you. But I just thought that…for a second, about something but it just…put me off.”

“Say it, please,” he urges softly. “I’m not going to be mad or offended, whatever it is.”

He’s right. This is a safe space to roll out these issues, Minho has always assured that.

“I just thought for a moment that you didn’t love me or care or something like that,” you answer truthfully.

In Minho’s brain, that accusation would sound ridiculous if he didn’t have any context from you. But given what sub drop can do to a person, he’s not surprised you would think along those lines.

What he is surprised about is the fact that he let this happen. To not take care of you properly after the scene when that’s probably one of the most important tasks.

“Well, you should know that, that’s not true,” he says. “I love you like you wouldn’t believe it, and I actually find it hard trying to articulate how crazy I feel about you sometimes. I’m not just saying that because of what you said, but I need you to understand that I mean every word.”

It was a big statement coming from Minho. You know that he loves you and he will say it when he can, but he’s a man of very few words. Acts of service is typically his love language. But if he needs to reassure you, he will.

But that’s when the devastating realisation crushes him. He didn’t think there was a possibility of this happening but given the behaviour you’ve exhibited, he couldn’t be any more right in his assumption.

“I think you might be in a sub drop,” he adds, feeling even more terrible as he says it aloud.

When Minho calls it as it is, things start making sense. The crying, the sadness, burden of insecurities, avoiding Minho, losing motivation for just about everything, and that impending downward spiral you kept slipping into.

You’ve never experienced sub drop. Minho has educated you on it and did everything in his power to prevent it from happening. He knows that it’s the best sub drop preventative after a scene.

The absence of is is an incentive for sub drop to occur - even after vanilla sex in some cases. That’s how Minho knows that he’s messed things up. He allowed things to fester like this for an entire week.

Then something equally as horrible crosses his mind.

“You said you’ve been feeling like this since the last scene,” he says. “Which means…you would’ve been in a drop when we had sex.”

You stall for a second, remembering that night vividly, “yes - but, I wanted to do it with you so bad because I needed you, but I was also hoping that the bad, empty feeling would go away after.”

“And it didn’t?”

You shake your head, “no.”

“I’m sorry baby, I really, truly am,” Minho sighs, mad with himself. “The moment you feel off during or after a scene, please try to let me know. Tell me what you need me to do and it’ll be done.”

You nod, hoping it’ll never actually happen again in the future. But there’s no guarantee. The best thing you can do is exactly what Minho suggested; talk. Even if and when it does happen, it’ll be a lot smoother than letting things boil over within a week.

“What went wrong for you at the end of that scene? Please don’t feel bad for saying anything, I want you to be honest so that it never happens again.”

If you had to be honest with him, it would’ve been the lack of contact post-scene. Minho took off your restraints and immediately began cleaning and packing things away. There were no usual words of affirmation, no cuddling - there was just nothing soothing about it.

It also didn’t help that you decided to shower, but that was after the fact.

“I just wanted you to be beside me,” you answer. “But I also just ran off into the shower without saying truly why.”

Something as simple as that stumps Minho. He could’ve helped prevent you from dropping had he just bought you back down from sub space properly. But he also doesn’t want you to lose trust in him not just as a dom but also as your boyfriend.

"Thank you for telling me baby," he replies quietly.

“I promise in the future that I’ll let you know if somethings not right. I know it won’t be as easy as it is said, but I can try.”

A small smile spreads on Minho’s face before he pulls you back into his body once more. Hearing the word ‘future’ calms him down. So long as you’re there with him, nothing else in the world matters.

"Just know, I always care about you, and I always love you."

——————

A/N: well, after however many months hiatus, I FINALLY updated. I can’t tell you how many times I rewrote this because I wasn’t happy with it but hey. At least I’m back! Please let me know how this was - also, there’s bound to be mistakes in here even though I’ve proofread it a few times so I’ll come back and smooth those out later!

Thank you for being patient with me and for waiting! I’ll try my best to upload consistently.

- Rose x

#seiki's fic rec 🕷#skz smut #lee know smut #stray kids smut #k pop smut #roseywrites #lee minho smut #lee know x reader #smut stray kids #bang chan smut #felix smut #changbin smut #i.n smut #han jisung smut #seungmin smut #hyunjin smut

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