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hjizngs · 4 months

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sick days | lee minho

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hi! this is my first ever post on here,, hehe. constructive criticism is welcomed, hate is not.

cw: sick reader, petnames, slight cursing, slightly suggestive (??), angstyish oops, mostly fluff! just minho being the cutest bf :3

another hacking cough forces itself from your throat, leaving behind a painful sting and the inability to swallow. a frustrated groan emits you, followed by disgruntled sniffle. you hate being sick.

sore throats, gross coughs, painful headaches, and a stuffed nose were all a recipe for disaster — especially today. you and minho had planned out the perfect date; a picnic, stroll in the park, and finally a movie. you had looked forward to it all week, barely getting through. only the promise of seeing your boyfriend kept you going.

you turn over on your side, the gentle movement sending another round of pain signals ringing in your head. tears sprung to the corners of your swollen eyes. you were devastated at having to miss your date. blearily, you swung a hand over to the bedside table, blindly searching for your phone.

once found, you swiped over to minho’s contact. pressing the call button, you slumped back onto your pillow defeatedly.

“jagi?” came the sweet voice of your boyfriend. “what’s up?”

an exhausted whimper answers him. “min.. min i’m sorry” is all you can utter.

his voice instantly is filled with concern. “what’s my love sorry for, hm? is everything okay?”

“no, m’sorry min.. i feel so bad. my head hurts, and i puked earlier, and it —“ another pained sound exits you. “— it hurts.”

something shuffles over the phone, and your boyfriend is quick to reply. “oh, my poor jagi. i’m on my way, don’t worry.”

you furrow your brows. “wh-what? no no you don’t have to do that, min!”

“see you in five.”

your eyes rolled as your boyfriend hung up on you a abruptly (like he always does — and it never fails to surprise you). coughing again, you accept that there’s nothing you can do to stop him from coming over. you scan your messy room and groan. you’re sick! you don’t want him to see you like this!

you swing your legs over to the side of your bed, only pausing when a sneeze erupts from your pinkened nose. you settle your socked feet on the floor and attempt to rise to your feet.

you sway, blinking harshly as to try to clear the black spots plaguing your vision. maybe getting up wasn’t the best idea..? oh well.

slowly, you begin to shuffle around your room, picking up discarded clothes and trying to round up any embarrassing wrappers or trash. you’re halfway through folding another t-shirt when your body flashes hot, then cold. the pounding in your head increases tenfold and you drop the shirt in favor of clutching your temples. spots engulf your sight and you sink to your knees, not even attempting to make it to the bed.

you’re sweating. but the ceiling fan above only makes you shiver, goosebumps lining your arms. everything is too bright, and you squint from a combination of a headache and the glaring overhead light that suddenly feels like a thousand suns beating down on you.

another whimper crawls out of your dry throat. the only thing your fever-weakened mind can think is minho. where is minho? you need him, it hurts it hurts everything hurts —

“jagi?! oh my god, are you okay?” thunderous footsteps make their way to you and you wince at the sudden exclamation.

cold, cool hands press themselves to your trembling body and you sigh in relief. they stroke through your hair, carding through gently. you open one eye to see who they belong to, but clamp it shut immediately, the bright light making your eyelids pulse.

you hear shuffling from the side, and one of the hands leave you. you suppress a whine, but something in your expression must be alarming because the voice coos. “oh, baby, i’m just turning off the light, okay?”

no, it’s not okay. not when those hands are the only thing grounding you, keeping you from melting. however, as promised, the offending light gets shut off, and you hum in appreciation.

the nice hands quickly return to their rightful place in your hair, and you bravely attempt to open your swollen eyes again.

your boyfriend looks down at you gently. “my poor girl. let’s get you back into bed, hm?”

you nod pathetically, letting him lift you up and place you softly on your mattress. you murmur a quiet thanks and he kisses your sweaty forehead in response. he sits on the side of the bed next to you, placing his hand on your leg and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

“have you eaten at all yet?” he inquires.

you shake your head, “no, not yet. i don’t think i could eat a thing without puking it back up, to be honest.”

minho hums at that, scanning your face. he reaches out and places a small hand on your forehead, feeling out your temperature. he frowns.

“i think we need to check for a fever, honey. you’re very warm.”

he moves to go stand and you pout. “don’t leave, please.”

“i’m just going to grab the thermometer and a glass of water, i’ll be right back, okay?”

“be fast!” you plead.

he cards a hand through your hair. “i’ll be so fast, jagiya.”

it feels like an eternity as minho tries to locate the thermometer from outside your bedroom. you shiver again, pulling the closest fuzzy blanket over you and burrowing into it.

and that’s how he finds you when he returns — a sweaty, sick burrito. you watch as he smiles down at you fondly, pulling back the blanket a little to take a look at you.

“think you can sit up for me? need help?” he asks.

“need help, please,” you respond nasally.

minho aids in positioning you up so you’re leaning against your pillow. he holds out the found thermometer and motions for you to open your mouth.

you oblige and he places the thermometer under your tongue. after a few moments, he pulls it out and looks down on it with a displeased expression — like it personally offended him.

“100.” he states, his brow crinkling. “yeah, you’re not leaving this bed.”

you sigh and slump farther into your blanket. “i’d rather hear that in a different situation.”

minho blinks slowly, fondly. “i’ll ignore that, just because you’re sick.”

you stick out your tongue as he rises from the bed to put away the thermometer. he looks down at you, unimpressed, but with a twinkle of amusement in his catlike eyes. “brat.”

“i’m sick!” you whine, “be nice.”

“i am being nice. so nice, in fact, that i’ll ignore this little attitude —“ he reaches down and pokes your forehead, “— because i know that you feel like shit.”

you roll your eyes when he’s turned and putting the thermometer in some drawer, but deep down you’re very grateful he came over to take care of you. for all his teasing, he really does treasure you. you still feel bad for canceling the date.

in some feverish, dramatic mood change, tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes. they’re hot and uncomfortable, and you sniffle. not only did you cancel the date, you’re acting like a brat instead of thanking minho for looking after you.

“m’sorry,” you croak from your cocoon of blankets.

minho turns around sharply and scans your face quickly. he strides over to the bed and sits beside you. “what?”

“m’sorry!” tears begin to trickle down your face, sticky and unwanted. you reach up to swipe them away.

minho’s hand reaches out, grabbing onto your arm and lightly tugging you into his chest. “silly girl. what are you sorry for?”

“f’making you come over and take care of me and being a brat and not saying thank you!” you rush out, slurring some words.

a chuckle shakes minho’s chest. “oh wow, you’re really out of it, huh?”

“i’m sorry!”

“hey, hey,” his joking manner disappears when a fresh wave of tears erupts from your eyes. “you have nothing to be sorry for. you’re sick. you have a fever, baby. you aren’t being a brat, i’m sorry i called you that when you weren’t feeling well.”

you peek up at him. “you mean it?”

minho doesn’t respond, just pulls you tighter into his chest and kisses the top of your hair. his cool hand rubs on your back soothingly under your shirt. he gently lays back onto your bed, cradling you to his chest.

“try to sleep some of this off. take a nap,” he orders you lightly. “i’ll be right here.”

at his words, you snuggle into him. he reaches to the side and pulls a blanket over the two of you. just before sleep takes it’s hold over you, you look up at him, catching his eye.

“thanks for being here, min. i love you,” you murmur, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier as you begin to succumb to sleep.

the last thing you hear before sinking into feverish dreams is, “anytime, baby. i love you more.”

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yas! ok! first post done, please lmk what u think!!!1 reblogs and likes are appreciated:3

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rainydaydreamsideblog · 1 year

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(The Maze Runner) He Gets Jealous

Author’s Note: In my fics/imagines/headcanons, Gladers are aged up, and also movie version... Also please bear with me, I’m getting the hang of Thomas’ character.

Thomas: He trusts you, and he knows you care for him, but he gets jealous on occasion. He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, so he will quietly watch you and who you’re interacting with, distracted from whatever job he is currently occupied with. He might ask you later in passing what you were talking about, but won’t say anything more. He is more worried for your safety than anything. Sometimes he’ll warn you about being alone with certain gladers, or check on you every now and then if he hasn’t seen you for a while. He really doesn’t want to smother you or seem overbearing, he just worries. If anyone makes you feel unsafe, he is bold in protecting you and making sure no harm comes to you.

Newt: He’s generally chill, but once in a while, an interaction in particular with another glader will bug him. Maybe the guy was getting a little too friendly, or maybe you laughed just a little too hard at a joke he made. Either way, Newt’s not going to make a scene. He’s more on the petty, subtly possessive side. If he’s not already in the vicinity, Newt will make his way over and inject himself into the conversation. He wants not only your attention, but to also to shoo the other glader away and lay a silent claim. If the person in question that’s giving you attention is being so forward as to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, Newt won’t hesitate to jump to your defense and be direct in telling them to back off.

Minho: He is rather confident in himself, you, and the relationship in general. He isn’t one to really get jealous or possessive. He actually finds it funny when greenies have crushes on you, and he’ll let them know you’re not available with a chuckle and a playful clap on the back. He might even throw in some humorous bragging for good measure. If someone means you any harm or discomfort, there will not be a trace of amusement in his eyes. He will undoubtedly put himself between you and the threat, expression hard and intimidating.

Gally: He gets jealous rather easily in the Glade. Early on, he has some insecurities to work through, so it’s a process. He finds himself less tolerant of other gladers getting too friendly, and he gets irked when greenies come right out of the box staring at you. He’ll get petty with you over it from time to time, but most of his anger is directed at the person who makes him feel threatened in some way. One of the more level-headed keepers who he trusts will give him advice, and it’ll finally dawn on him that behaving like that will only push you away. His patience and confidence begin to build from there. He still gets jealous, but he doesn’t respond to it in such an unhealthy way. He even starts teasing the greenies who are crushing on you, and relaxes a bit. He still doesn’t hesitate to show others you’re his and lay claim.

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dreaming-medium · 5 months

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Thanksgiving With You

Relationship: Lee Minho x reader

Tags: Pure fluff

Summary: Your plans to go home to America for Thanksgiving are uprooted the night before you're supposed to leave. Unable to stand seeing you upset, Minho decides to take matters into his own hands and make sure you get to celebrate no matter what.

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The TV was on in the shared apartment, all of the boys were laying all over the couches in various comfy positions. Legs tangled up in knots, blankets draped over different laps.

Living in the same building as one another definitely had its perks, that’s for sure. Even if everyone starts their days in their own apartments, by dinner time, everyone congregates to one.

Today, you and Minho’s apartment was the lucky winner.

When you answered a roommate ad two years ago, you didn’t know it would come with seven other men on top of that. But, you wouldn’t change anything that’s happened since then.

Felix’s head rests on Hyunjin’s lap while he plays on his phone with Changbin watching over his shoulder. Seungmin takes up two seats while Jeongin sits on the ground next to his legs. Minho is lounging in the corner seat of the couch, Chan on his left, Jisung on his right.

For the first time, they’re all silent. Each of their conversations were cut short when a news broadcast cut through the movie they were “watching”.

A female news anchor sat behind a desk looking directly into the camera.

“We interrupt your program with a breaking news report from The National Weather Service. Please be advised that there is extreme adverse weather expected to affect Seoul beginning tomorrow. All airports, roads, and businesses will remain closed starting tomorrow, November 22nd, until further notice.”

Normally, none of the boys would care about a storm. This meant time off from work, time to relax and stay inside while everyone gets some much needed rest but…

“Minho!” your voice calls out into the living room. Your roommate perks up off the couch, tearing his eyes away from the news broadcast. “Can I borrow your neck pillow? I’m going to need it for the flight. Sixteen hours on the plane is going to be killer without it.”

His jaw clenches and he looks around at the other boys on the couch who all have equally flustered expressions. They each stare at one another like deer in headlights.

“Ah,” he hums and looks around the room.

Oh, you were so excited to go home for Thanksgiving, how was he going to tell you that the airport is closed due to the incoming storm? Why does he have to be the one to break the news to you?

The news anchor continues talking about the snowstorm, predicting record levels of snowfall and high speed winds.

All month, all you could talk about was how much you missed Thanksgiving: the turkey, the parade, the pie, everything.

He didn’t really understand it.

“Minho?” You ask again when he doesn’t answer. Your figure appears in the doorway into the living room.

As soon as you stand in front of all of them, their heads snap towards you.

Your eyes widen, obviously startled. “Guys?” You ask, laughing nervously. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Felix moves a bit, his mouth opening to say something before the news anchor cuts him off again.

“Again, we repeat the broadcast: Please be advised that there is extreme adverse weather expected to affect Seoul beginning tomorrow. All airports, roads, and businesses will remain closed starting tomorrow, November 22nd, until further notice.”

Your mouth drops open and you step further into the room to look at the TV.

“What?” You say to yourself, your heart dropping to your stomach. Everyone else’s does as well from your devastated tone.

Chan reaches forward with the remote, turning the volume up for you to hear.

“No, no…” you whisper.

Minho watches you, feeling his own heart break for you.

“M-Maybe I can book a flight for tonight. The storm starts tomorrow, maybe I can get out at the last minute.” You practically run back to your room, frantically looking for your phone.

All of the boys stay silent.

Apple pie this, mashed potatoes that, homemade pineapple … something. Minho couldn’t remember what you had said. You would always talk too fast when you were excited.

It only got harder for him to understand when you would go into English.

On top of all of this, you haven’t been back to America since you moved here two years ago. It was going to be your first time home.

You were just so busy when you started your new job that there was never any time to take off.

And now that you finally could? It’s falling through your fingers.

“Such a shame…” Hyunjin is the first one to break the silence. His voice carries the same sadness that they all hold on their shoulders.

Minho keeps looking down the hall where your room is, hoping to try and hear anything— any news of an earlier flight, a phone call, anything.

Only a few moments pass before Minho gets too antsy to sit still. He stands up from the couch and makes his way down the hallway.

Your door is cracked open a bit.

When he gets closer, he hears you on the phone. “N-No, you don’t understand, I was going home for the holidays— Yes… Yes I understand that everyone else is too, b-but I haven’t been home in two years.”

You sound so heartbroken, it’s physically killing him.

“There are no open seats? ….. the 5:30 flight? That’s in… that’s in ten minutes I live forty minutes away from the airport!”

Minho leans against the wall behind him, your open door to his left.

“There’s nothing else? … No, I understand. Thank you very much for your time... You as well.”

There’s a long moment of silence and a thump against your mattress.

Ten more seconds pass before he hears hiccups and sniffles coming from inside your room. That’s when Minho caves in, coming up to your door frame.

He can never withstand hearing you cry, on the rare occasions that you do.

You look so small curled up on the edge of your bed, your head in your hands. Your suitcase is open on top of your bed with various clothes and toiletries all over the place.

Your shoulders shake as you sob quietly into your hands.

A frown pulls at his face. Minho reaches up and knocks gently on the doorframe.

Your head shoots up in surprise, hands furiously wiping away the tears under your eyes.

“Oh, hey Minho!” You try to smile, but the tears won’t stop, but you continue wiping them away. “Sorry, um… I don’t think I need your neck pillow after all.”

A sob wracks your chest.

“Sorry,” you apologize again and wipe the tears some more.

His frown depends and he walks over to the bed, taking a seat directly next to you.

“You don’t need to apologize, Y/N.”

You sniffle and look down at your lap, the sleeves of your sweater coming over your hands. “It’s dumb to be this upset, I know. I was just really looking forward to Thanksgiving, you know?”

His entire side is pressed against yours. His warmth seeps into you in a comforting manner.

Minho listens to you carefully. He’s never been the best at comforting a crying person, he knows that, but he’s learned that all you ever crave when you’re upset is someone to listen.

“We have this tradition in my family, god, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to do it,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “We wake up around nine, and my sister and I make cinnamon rolls and watch the Macy’s parade from New York while we eat them. Then, while we get ready we watch the National dog show and ugh…”

He leans back on one of his hands placed behind you on your bed. The cogs in his brain are already turning.

Cinnamon rolls… Parade…

“God, I really missed my mom’s Pecan Pie.”

“Pecan Pie.” Minho mouths to himself. You don’t see it.

You sniffle.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers to you, his hand coming up to rub your back gently.

“It’s alright, there’s always Christmas. The airline said they can move my ticket without me losing money. I guess it’s better to go then.” You hum and wipe the tears off your face again.

Not knowing what else to say, Minho stays quiet, his hand continuing to rub up and down your spine.

He knows next to nothing about Thanksgiving; it’s an American holiday. All he knows are the little things he’s seen in movies: turkey, hats with buckles on them, eating until you explode.

What parade did you say? Macy’s Parade? Okay…

Minho loses track of how long you both sit there, you trying to pull yourself together while he rubs your back.

His eyes dart around the floor unfocused as he makes a mental checklist in his head. He’s definitely going to need to employ the help of the seven other men in his living room if he hopes to pull this off.

“Thank you, Minho.” Your voice pulls his attention. He looks over at your face, hand pausing between your shoulder blades.

Your eyes are red rimmed and cheeks are rosy from all your crying. A sad smile sits on your face that doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he responds, getting a bit flustered under your gaze.

You move your head to rest on his shoulder, like second nature, his arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you close.

Butterflies swirl in his stomach at the contact. Yes, you’re his roommate, but it was in the last six months or so that his heart started seeing you as so much more.

It all started with you cooking his favorite dinner when you knew he had just had one of the worst days of his life.

He had texted you around noon complaining about the rough day he was having, you consoled him shortly, and that was that.

The day had dragged on, getting worse and worse; he opened the door to your shared apartment around midnight to find you moving around the kitchen.

When he peered over your shoulder and saw his favorite meal, his heart melted.

“To cure your bad day,” you smiled at him.

He fell so hard for you, there was no coming back.

Minho turns his head to rest his chin on the crown of your hair.

“Well, I have off work; maybe I can take the day to catch up on a project without being bothered to join meetings.” You trail off.

“Or you could take the day to relax.” He chuckles.

You pause. “Nah.”

He laughs again and hugs you close.

“I better unpack everything.” You peel yourself out of his arms. Minho’s body already feels so much colder without you pressed against him.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Minho stands up from your bed and makes towards the door.

“Minho,” you grab his attention. He turns back to look at you.

You’re smiling at him again, but the sparkle is missing from your eyes.

“Thank you, really.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

Minho pulls your door closed behind him and makes his way down the hall. He has a mission and a checklist.

And he needed to get to the grocery store tonight if he wanted to pull it off.

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Three quick knocks rap against your door at 9:00 AM sharp on November 23rd.

With a disgruntled groan, you shift around in bed and pull the blankets up over your shoulder more.

After a few seconds, the door cracks open slowly, the hinges creaking loudly in the silent morning air.

A huff-like laugh forced through the invader’s nose.

Slippers pad against the carpet of your room and the mattress dips down on the side of your bed.

Gentle, warm fingers push your hair off your forehead. Your eyes squint a bit and you snuggle further into your blanket.

“Minhooo…” you whine without opening your eyes. “I have the day off, remember? I don’t need to wake up.”

“Ah,” he hums, fingers still carding through your hair. “But the parade is on.”

Your brain is still booting up. All your movements pause, your eyes snap open and you look at the man sitting on the side of your bed.

He’s in his cooking apron; the blue one you got him for his birthday last year.

“What?”

That smirk of his spreads over his face, his eyes squint the more he smiles down at you. “The parade is on, Y/N, don’t you want to watch it?”

With wide eyes, you stare at your roommate. “The.. parade? The Macy’s Day Parade?”

He hums with a beautiful, genuine smile. “I didn’t think you wanted to miss it.”

You sit up and kick the blankets off, leaping out of bed and down the hallway. Minho’s laughter follows you.

Sure enough, playing on your TV, is the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, from New York City.

“Wha…” you trail off. If it’s 9 AM here… it’s only 7 PM the night before Thanksgiving in New York, how is he…?

Your eyes scan the TV to see the small graphic that displays “2022” in the corner.

He’s playing a recorded broadcast of last year's parade. A laugh of disbelief bubbles out of your chest and you whirl around to look at your roommate standing in the hallway.

“Minho!” You squeal.

“We still have to bake cinnamon rolls, come on.” He waves you to follow him to the kitchen. Your jaw drops and you can only stare at him.

Minho looks over his shoulder and sees you’re not following him. “Are you coming? I’m not baking them by myself!”

Another snort of disbelief forces its way out. Your one hand reaches over and pinches your arm.

“No, I’m awake,” you whisper to yourself.

The sound of the parade announcers talking in their thick New York accent makes you feel right at home. There was a specific sound quality of audio that comes from these events and it brings you right back to the East Coast.

Minho walks into the kitchen and you follow after him with an extra spring in your step.

———————————————

“And here comes Snoopy and his good friend Woodstock!” The TV announcer says happily.

You take another bite of your cinnamon roll, chewing happily and watching the TV. Doongie curled up next to you, tail swishing around.

Minho can’t decide what he wants to watch more: you or the TV. You’re positively beaming, and he hasn’t even told you the best part yet.

He scratches Soonie’s head absentmindedly.

There’s a couple knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Minho calls out.

The door creaks open. “Minho, your timer went off. I think you need to baste the turkey.”

Your head whips around to see Felix poking his head into the apartment. He makes eye contact with you and his smile brightens instantly.

“Hi, Y/N! Happy Thanksgiving!” Felix chirps from the door.

“Thank you?”

Minho stands up off the couch, “Thanks, Felix, I’ll be right over.”

“Gotcha, see you soon, Y/N!” Felix closes the door behind him.

You look up at Minho. “Turkey? You’re making a turkey?”

He stands in front of you and smiles. “I am, you can’t have Thanksgiving dinner without turkey, right?”

“You– Are we..?”

“We are. But not until after the parade, and the dog show, of course. I told everyone to come around 2:00, that works, right?”

You stare up at him, cinnamon roll still in your hand.

“Y… Yeah, that works.” You truly cannot believe your ears. Are you sure you’re not still sleeping? Do you need to pinch yourself again?

“Good, I’ll be right back.”

Minho moves past you towards the door, scratching your head a few times as he passes by. You make no move to fix your hair after he leaves.

Slowly, you take another bite of the roll, eyes spacing out watching the parade.

Inside your chest, you can feel your heart stutter and swell, heat rising to your cheeks and turning your ears red. He’s really doing so much for you, isn’t he?

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“Y/N! Come on out, Chan and Jisung are here and Jeongin needs help with the mashed potatoes!” Minho calls down the hall.

Like a kid on Christmas, you peel down the hall, adjusting the earring you’re wearing.

You’re in a black turtleneck tucked into a cute light brown pencil skirt with black tights and fuzzy socks. The most typical Thanksgiving outfit.

Your favorite jewelry adorning your body.

The four boys turn around and greet you happily. Each of them in their own fuzzy sweaters and comfy pants.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” They all say to you in unison.

“Ah, happy Thanksgiving!” You cheer back and wrap Jisung and Chan into a tight hug since they were the closest. “Thank you so much for this!”

Both of them wrap an arm around you with giddy smiles. “It was all Minho’s idea,” says Chan. “If you wanna thank anyone, thank him.”

“Or you could help, instead.” Minho teases from behind the kitchen counter, sliding over a can of cranberry sauce.

“Oh my god!” You squeal and come around to grab it. “Where did you find this? I didn’t think any stores in Korea sold this!”

Minho hums happily and stirs a pot on the stove. “There’s an American store a few blocks away. It’s where I got most of the groceries for today.”

A timer beeps at the same time the door swings open.

“Hot bird coming through!” Felix calls into the room. “I have a turkey too!”

Everyone gives Felix a pity laugh as briskly walks towards the kitchen and places the cooked turkey onto the counter. The smell that wafts through the house is heavenly.

Jisung hands you a glass of sangria with a wink. You clink glasses and take a small sip.

Changbin walks through the door after Felix, holding a stack of about three pies in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” he calls inside as he kicks his shoes off.

Everyone responds with the same greeting.

“Minho, where do you want desserts?”

“Just put them on the side by the main table for now!”

There’s more hustle and bustle next to you while Jisung attempts to use the can opener for the cranberry sauce.

“Y/N, could you help me? I don’t think I’ve ever made mashed potatoes before…” Jeongin trails off in front of a pot of boiled potatoes.

You beam at him and skip over to his side. “I absolutely can, it’s a lot easier than you think!”

Chan walks over to the living area with the couches.

“What do you usually have on the TV at home?” he calls in to you.

You’re dumping all of the potatoes into a mixing bowl while you answer him. “Typically, my dad commandeers the TV and has football playing all day, but I really don’t want to watch old football reruns.”

Jeongin watches over your shoulder as you shake the bowl to settle the potatoes. “Could you grab the butter and milk from the fridge?” You ask him and he nods and walks off.

Seungmin comes in with Hyunjin, both of them holding trays of food.

You greet the two of them happily.

While Jeongin is gathering the ingredients from the fridge, you take a moment to look around at all of the boys in your apartment.

They must have looked up ‘What to wear to Thanksgiving’; each of them is in a sweater and dress pants. Some of them have turtlenecks underneath the sweater, some don’t, but they all look like the same font as one another.

“What can I do to help?” Seungmin asks, him and Hyunjin further crowding the kitchen.

“Go set the table with Hyunjin.” Minho points to the long dining room table, shooing them out of the already small space. Plates, napkins, forks, knives, glasses– everything you can think of, is placed on the corner of the table in stacks and piles.

“I’ll help too!” Felix chirps and makes his way over with the two men.

“Y/N!” Changbin calls your attention. Both him and Chan have beer bottles in their hands, bodies facing the TV. The two of them look like dads with the way they’re standing. “What about a Christmas movie? Is that allowed on Thanksgiving?”

Jeongin plops the milk and butter on the counter next to you.

You call back into the living room. “Yeah, that’s fine! But make it a good one– a classic! Oh! What about Christmas Vacation? That’s my favorite!”

“I’ll find it, don’t worry!” Chan responds.

Another timer beeps, Minho opens the oven and pulls out a tray full of fresh rolls. Jisung finally wrestles the can of cranberry sauce open.

Your heart grows three sizes.

“Ten more minutes on the Pineapple Bake.” Minho says to himself but you hear it.

Your head snaps around so fast it might tumble off your shoulders. “Pineapple Bake? You made Pineapple Bake?”

A flush crawls up Minho’s neck to his ears when he turns and meets your sparkly eyes.

“You had mentioned it…” he trails off and finds something else on the counter to fidget with.

“How did you get the recipe?”

“Ah, well,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I have your mother’s number from when you first moved in and all.”

“You texted my mom?”

“Is that alright?”

The hustle and bustle of the seven other bodies around your apartment fades into the background. Even with Jeongin standing directly next to you, he seems to disappear.

“You texted my mom and asked for her Pineapple Bake recipe?” You choke out again, your eyebrows raising, lips parting in an emotionally shocked expression.

Minho visibly gets a bit more nervous at your repeated question. His jaw clenches and he plays with the tie of the apron. “Did I overstep?”

Without any warning, you cross the few steps of the kitchen towards him and throw your arms around your roommate, burying your face into his shoulder. Small tears of joy well in the corners of your eyes, throat constricting with so many emotions.

After a moment of hesitation, Minho wraps his arms around you and rests his cheek on top of your hair.

“Thank you, Minho,” you whisper to him, squeezing him even tighter.

Minho’s shoulders visibly react from your hug, relaxing from the tension of the past few moments.

He smells like the holidays, the softness of his sweater is so comforting against your cheek. You just want to bury your nose in it and drown in the scent.

“This means so much to me.” Your words are so sincere, he could cry from hearing them. His arms tighten around you, eyes closing to relish in your hold.

He basks in it. Despite a third timer screaming in his ear, he continues to hold you like if he let go, you would disappear forever.

Having you in his arms like this has always been the equivalent of drinking warm tea before bed. It sends a wave of comfort and safety through his entire being.

The timer continues to beep.

“You can thank me after you eat.”

You giggle, any sadness he’s ever felt disappears for a split second.

Hyunjin calls into this kitchen. “Can you please turn that thing off before I go insane?”

Minho sighs, the air blowing into your hair. He keeps you close for a few more heartbeats before letting go.

“It’s time for dinner anyway.”

----------------------------------------------

Everyone was quiet, the TV still playing Christmas movies in the background. The streaming service that Chan had put on had autoplayed movie after movie while you ate dinner and then dessert.

The last surprise Minho had for you was that he also had asked your mother for her Pecan Pie recipe two nights ago.

Everything about today left you floored and speechless. Your heart has never felt this full in your life.

All eight of them sat around the table looking uncomfortably full. The table that was once filled with every side dish known to Thanksgiving enjoyers, every dessert you could dream of, was now littered with empty dishes.

“We should just be thankful for being together. I think that’s what they mean by Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown.” Marcie’s animated voice rings through the apartment.

Again, your throat tightens up with so many happy emotions, you clench your jaw to keep them down.

From directly next to you, Minho must’ve noticed your expression, his hand reaching under the table and resting on your knee, squeezing it once to comfort you.

You look over at him.

His heart catches in his chest.

There’s that sparkle in your eyes. The one that disappeared two nights ago, he got it back. His entire face softens as he stares at you as if you hung the moon and vice versa.

“I need a nap,” Felix groans from his chair.

You hum and look over at him. He’s slumped in his seat, head back, eyes closed.

“That’s the best part of Thanksgiving, sleeping with a full stomach.” You tell him.

“Full is an understatement.” Jeongin adds.

“I think I found a new favorite holiday…” Changbin trails off.

“Ditto,” adds Chan.

“Yeah? Well maybe we can have a Friendsgiving next year and do it all over again.” You tell the table.

Minho groans. “I’ll need more help next time, then!”

Everyone grunts in agreement.

You reach under the table and take a hold of Minho’s hand still on your leg. Your fingers wind together and you beam at him again with that dazzling smile.

“I would do anything to do this again.”

----------------------------------------------

“I still can’t believe they took that many leftovers,” Minho mutters, dipping the sponge in the sink.

“I can’t believe we had that many leftovers.” You dry a dish with the towel and place it on the other clean ones.

The exhaustion from eating is still heavy in your bones; but both you and Minho decided it was better to get all the washing out of the way so that you could just relax for the rest of the night.

It felt like you’ve been washing dishes for hours.

Soft twinkling of Christmas music plays through the speakers of the TV from the movie.

“Minho?” You ask suddenly, your voice is a bit weak and unconfident.

He looks over at you with his undivided attention, one eyebrow raised.

“There’s one more Thanksgiving tradition I didn’t tell you about.”

His eyebrows furrow more and he puts the dish down in the sink full of sudsy water. “What is it?”

Smiling, you put the towel down.

“Will you dance to Christmas music with me? To ring in the Holiday Season.”

Minho’s taken aback for a moment, he laughs– almost in disbelief. “Really?”

You bite your lip nervously, nodding once.

With a playful smile, he grabs the towel and dries his hands. “You want to dance? We can dance, Y/N.”

Squealing, you happily skip to the living room. “Alexa, play Christmas music!” You call out and she immediately begins to play music at the perfect volume.

Frank Sinatra’s ‘I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm’ plays through the speaker. The happy saxophones and trumpets blare and your spirits lift even more than you thought they could.

You bounce on your heels to the beat a few times, swaying with the rhythm in a silly way.

When you turn around, you see Minho stepping towards you to the beat. One of the happiest looks ever on his face. His hair still slightly styled from this morning, just a bit more relaxed as the day went on.

His sweater is so cozy with a black turtleneck underneath, heather gray dress pants on the bottom. Lee Minho looks like the Holidays wrapped up in a warm, cable knit package, and he’s currently dancing towards you.

Once he is up on you, he takes your one hand and places the other on your waist. Both of you look like absolute goof balls, swaying and bobbing to the rhythm of Frank Sinatra in your living room.

The scent of Thanksgiving dinner still hangs in the air; the warmth from the ovens and stove hasn’t faded one bit.

Minho leads you all around the living room in a beautifully clumsy dance. The smiles on your faces never drop, even for a moment. They only grow with each giggle passed from one to another.

His eyes stay locked with yours the entire time. Nothing could interrupt your moment,

You mouth the lyrics to him; it’s English, so he’s not really able to keep up as much. But the emotion is there. And just the idea that you’re singing to him makes his heart soar.

“What do I care how much it may storm,” you sing, “I’ve got my love to keep me warm.”

Minho spins you around, you squeal with happiness with your arm above your head. He brings you back in and grabs your waist with both hands, lifting you into the air and twirling more as the music swells. You place both of your hands on his shoulders for balance.

He gently places you back on the ground, the song ending and fading into the next one.

Michael Buble’s ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ follows it up. The rhythm of the song slows down the energy in the room dramatically.

Neither you nor Minho let go of one another. Instead of backing away, the two of you step even closer. Your arms wind around his neck, his hands interlock on your lower back.

Your eyes look all around his perfect face, meanwhile his stay locked on your eyes. He’s so enchanted by you, it feels like you placed him under some sort of spell.

If he could, Minho would do this entire day over and over again until he died, just to see this beautiful look in your eye each time, to hear your glee filled laughter after each surprise.

Instead of moving around the room, the two of you simply sway side to side in time with the beat of the song. Minho spins the two of you very slowly in place.

A beautiful, festive, Christmas bubble begins forming around the two of you.

“I cannot even begin to tell you how much today meant to me, Minho.” You break the silence between the two of you.

He chuckles. “I’m glad I was able to do it for you, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever run to the store that fast in my life.”

Mirroring him, you laugh softly. “I can only imagine what you looked like trying to get everything together.”

He moves his head side to side. “I had a lot of help.”

You shake your head. “This was quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You deserve it.”

Another laugh from you. He just watches you. He watches each emotion cross your face with such admiration, with such a fond, sweet gaze, it could rot your teeth.

Piano keys tinkle in the music. Michael Buble’s smooth voice wrapping around your private bubble.

“I am endlessly thankful for you, Lee Minho.”

His gaze softens even more.

You’re his soft spot. You– beautiful, wonderful, joyous you– are Lee Minho’s weak point.

Slowly, the swaying to the song begins to slow down as you both get lost within one another. Everything about the scene was like a movie, down to the storm swelling outside your window.

Minho’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second.

You grin. His heart thuds in his chest.

“I don’t suppose you got any mistletoe?” you ask cheekily.

His eyes widen for a second, but he quickly catches on to your joke. “That wasn’t on any of the Thanksgiving websites I found.”

“Oh well.”

Without another word, and with the goofiest of grins on both of your faces, you pull Minho in for a kiss.

His entire world stops when his lips meet yours, everything pauses and the only thing that exists is you. Nothing else matters except for the girl in his arms.

The world could end right now and he would be the happiest man on Earth.

Both of his arms tighten around you, one hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling it softly.

Your arms around his neck bring him even closer to you.

His kiss is everything, it’s sugar cookies rising in the oven, it’s a sunrise on the beach, it’s waking up to the smell of cinnamon rolls on Thanksgiving– everything.

It’s everything you’ve always needed. He is everything you’ve always needed.

Eventually, the two of you pull away from one another, but not without a last few stolen pecks on the other’s lips.

The kisses end up short, you both keep smiling and pulling away, too happy to continue.

Minho keeps his eyes closed, his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “I think I have a new favorite holiday.” Another peck to your lips.

You giggle and kiss him again and again, “Me too, Lee Minho.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know drabble #lee minho x y/n #lee know reader insert #lee know fanfic #lee know is the definition of If He Wanted To He Would #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n

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arikazu · 1 month

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♡♡♡ Lee know as your boyfriend (softlaunching)

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straylightdream · 1 year

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I don't give a fuck about your friends - 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: lee minho x f.reader

friends to lovers

↳ Oh baby, take a look around I'm the only one that hasn't walked out, Im right here.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, smut warning below the cut.

𝐚𝐧: part of a series called ohmami of short one shots inspired by Chase Atlantic songs. This one was inspired by Right Here. If you would like to be tagged in all stories for this series or a specific boys please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, soft dom minho, rougher passionate sex, creampie, size kink, dirty talk, minho calls the reader the name Pretty.

It’s been a rough night to say the least. A night out with your friends went wrong. A bunch of drunk girls in the club is never a good mix, followed by watching a so-called friend makeout with your ex who you thought at one point you were gonna marry him. The sight of them kissing was like a bucket of cold water being dumped on you. Tears well in your eyes as you rush off to the hallway near the bathrooms. You fight back crying as you call the only person you want to see at that moment.

Walking back to the table where a few friends were, you let them know you were heading out. The buzz you had has faded away as a feeling of sadness takes over. Walking outside the cold air catches you by surprise. Taking a deep breath you wrap your arms around your body trying to find some warmth. You stand outside alone for all of five minutes when you see the only person you want to see walking towards. He’s dressed in gray sweats with a hoodie underneath and coat over the top.

You practically jog towards him, wrapping your arms around him, throwing yourself into his chest. There is a moment of silence as you cling to him. His hand gently rubs your back making you feel warmer.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he presses his lips to the top of your head.

Pulling away he takes off his coat and holds it out for you. You know he’ll probably be cold walking back to his car but there is no use in fighting him. Pulling his coat on you immediately notice his eyes are focused on you. He steps closer to you resting his hand on your cheek. Ever so slowly be wipes away the stray tear that had slid down your cheek.

“You’re too pretty to be sad,” his voice was calm and gentle.

Arriving at his car he helps you in the passenger side before shutting the door. The drive back to his apartment is quiet. You can feel him looking over at you every so often as you wipe away the stray tears that keep falling. He hasn’t really asked you what’s wrong but you know he will.

You arrive at his apartment he shares with Jisung and you notice right away there is no sign of his roommate. Without thinking the moment he shuts the door you lean forward to kiss him just like you always do. You’re caught off guard when he pulls away the moment your lips touch. The small feeling of rejection stings but you know it’s because he knows you’re upset.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He seems frustrated. You can’t blame him though. Recently anytime something has gone wrong in your life you always call him. He never tells you he can’t come to your rescue. He always does and every time no matter if it’s day or night it always ends the same way with you naked and spread out underneath him. He normally doesn’t say anything when you throw yourself at him. Peeling away your clothes as you desperately cling to him trying to make yourself feel better.

“Mae was all over Hyunwoo at the club. I looked out on the dance floor and saw my friend making out with the guy that broke my heart.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just takes a deep breath and steps closer to you. Minho hated Hyunwoo and after you got your heart broken he hated your ex even more.

“She’s not your friend if she would do something that she knows would hurt you.” His hand rests on your side standing close to you.

“I’m probably just being sensitive,” you sigh, wiping away your tears. “I have that trip with them next weekend. I know she wouldn’t intentionally do something to hurt me.” You're an absolute fool and you know it. Mae and a bunch of the other girls are selfish and you know deep down inside you need to cut them off. Minho has told you over and over again he doesn’t like most of your friends in that group and you know why. He doesn’t say anything for a moment instead he moves away from your hand and gently rests his hand on your cheek. His thumb swipes away the tears that are staining your cheek.

“Come stay with me next weekend. I don’t think you should go on that trip.” From the moment Minho heard that you were supposed to have a girls weekend he was instantly against it. He thought most of the girls that you had started hanging out with since college were fake. After seeing one of them make out with the man that broke your heart led you to believe he might be right.

“They’ll be upset if I cancel on them,” you sigh.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“‘Min they’re my friends. It does matter.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your friends. I’m the one who is always right here. They don’t treat you right. If they were true friends they would have seen you were upset tonight and wouldn’t have let you leave crying.”

“Min,” his words catch you off guard.

“I’m being honest. I don’t give a fuck about your so called friends. I just want you to be happy and I think being with me instead of them would make you happy.”

Even though your head is telling you that you should go on this trip, you want to listen to your heart and stay with Minho.

“What happens if I stay here?”

“We’ll figure out whatever we are.” He pushes his figures through your hair tilting your head back. His face softens as your eyes lock.

“We’re not just friends?” You’re not dumb you know you’re more than friends. If you were just friends you wouldn’t throw yourself at him any chance you get. If he was just your friend you wouldn’t daydream about kissing him.

He pulls back from you shaking his head. “I don’t fuck my friends.” He starts walking away from you heading off to his room. You’re caught off guard by his bold statement but it lets you know he feels the same way you do. Without thinking anymore you follow him. Walking into his room you notice the light on in the bathroom connected to his room. You wait sitting on his bed for him to walk back in. Walking back into his bedroom he pulls off his shirt tossing it in the hamper by his closet. He strips down to his boxers. You silently sit there watching him. You should have known at some point or another things between you and Minho would come to a head. You couldn’t go on sleeping together without talking about how you really get.

“Are you going to skip that trip?” He finally breaks the silence.

“I want to know what it’s like to be more than friends with you.” This is your way of telling him you aren’t going on that trip.

“Stand up for me,” he says walking towards you. You listen to him standing at the foot of the bed. “Those girls aren’t good for you. They don’t care about your feelings and I don’t like that.”

“I know they don’t.” You get sad again thinking about how your night went.

“Strip down to your underwear please.” He doesn’t normally boss you around when you sleep together. He’s always had dominant energy about him, but when you have sex he always lets you do what you want. Every time you’ve slept together it’s been when you’re upset or want a form of stress release. You realize you’ve been selfish and never really asked Minho what he likes or what he wants.

Standing there in just your underwear you reach out resting your hand on his cheek, “what do you want from me?” You ask.

“Anything you’re willing to give me. I want every part of you.”

“Minho I mean what do you want if you don’t want to be just friends?”

His hand rests on your bare side pulling you close to him. You take a deep breath taking in his closeness. “Pretty, I want to be your everything. I want to make you happy and show you what it’s like to be loved.” Leaning in closer he rested his forehead against yours.

“I want you to be my everything.” You didn’t want to just be friends. You wanted so much more with him.

His lips crash against yours and he kisses you like he needs you to breathe. His hands grip your soft sides as your lips move together.

Pulling away you both removed the rest of your clothes. Laying on his bed completely bare he sits between your spread thighs as he rubs his hardened length through your folds.

“Min put it in,” you practically whine wanting him inside you.

A smirk tugs at his lips as slowly pushes his length into you earning a moan. He moves at a slow pace letting you adjust to his girth. The groan that passes his lips as he bottoms out is intoxicating. Your hands reach for his wanting to hold on to him. He thrust into you at a firm but steady place. The blissed out look on his face makes you weak.

“Pretty, you’re so tight. Is my cock too big for you?” He loves to make you feel small. You weren’t a tiny girl by any means but the way he talks about his size makes your head spin.

With one particularly hard thrust makes you practically scream his name. A soft laugh passes his lips as he thrust hard again causing your breast to bounce.

“Min-“ you moan.

“Do you like it when I’m rough?” You just silently nod your head, unable to fully respond. He grabs one of your legs, putting it over his shoulder before he continues his pace. His finger toys with your clit knowing just the right way to touch you to make you scream his name again.

He keeps his steady pace leaving you a panting mess. One of your hands grip the cotton sheets next to you while the other grasp your breast. Your thumb drags across your sensitive nipple adding to the overwhelming sensation taking over your body.

“Fuck you look good touching yourself while you’re taking my cock,” he groans. His dirty words come close to pushing you over the edge.

“I’m so clo- clo close.” He’s left you a stuttering mess.

“Does pretty want to come?”

“Fuck,” you whine nodding your head.

“Do it then,” he says, thrusting harder.

Pulling your leg off his shoulder he quickly changes his position so he is hovering right over you. He keeps his pace as he leaves a trail of open mouth kisses from your chest up to your lips. The moment your lips together you moan into his mouth as you fall apart. Your walls flutter around him as a white hot wave crashes over you. He thrust into you over and over again as you ride out your high.

His thrust gets sloppier as he chases his own release. He comes painting your walls white moaning your name. He stays plastered on top of you riding out his release. Ever so slowly he pulls himself away from you. He sits back on his hunches watching for a moment as his release drips out of you. Reaching over to his nightstand where he keeps a box of tissues he always wipes his release before laying on the bed next to you. You’re absolutely exhausted and feel like you’re on the verge of falling asleep.

“Pretty?” He says pulling your sleepy body close to his.

“Yeah?”

“I meant what I said. I’ve always been right here, and I don’t want to be just friends.”

You smile nuzzling close to him, “Minho we’re definitely more than friends, and I’m glad you’ve always been right here.”

His lips gently press to the top of your head before you fall asleep in his arms.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

#stray kids #lee know #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee Minho #lee know angst #stray kids fan fiction #stray kids x you #stray kids reader insert #lee know reader insert #kpop #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut

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facioleeknow · 3 months

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Risky gift ° Lee Minho+Bang Chan

You decide to misbehave and your boyfriends have to punish you to teach you a lesson ;)

Wc: 1245 Genre: smut 18+ ONLY, college AU

Tw: professor's assistants chan and minho, oral, deepthroathing, voyeurism, cum eating, masturbation, hard dom minho, soft dom chan, name calling, spitting

Part of my valentine's day collab!

Minho’s lips were hot on yours. His kisses were hungry, he wanted to consume you whole, he wanted to take you down and then build you back up. His hands raked your body feverishly. He was always like that, impatient and harsh while your other lover was the complete opposite, slow and sweet.

“Minho, we’re in the middle of the hallway, we can’t do this here,” you whispered to him, afraid that somebody might catch you. Minho just sighed and parted from you, his heat leaving your body.

“Let’s go,” his tone was harsh, feigning annoyance but his grasp on your wrist was gentle. You knew better than to think he was actually annoyed, he knew that making out in the middle of the hallway during class hours was risky and he would never expose you to that; sure he might’ve teased you about it but only to rile you up, nothing more nothing less.

Minho led you through the hallways of your college with purpose, he knew where he could go to avoid being disturbed. His study was his sacred place and something that came with being a PA. His hand twisted the knob and then closed the door roughly, without sparing a glance to the other guy in the room.

“Hey, baby,” Chan greeted you with a sweet smile and swiftly got up to plant a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hey Channie,” you shivered at his touch. Your arousal was starting to coat the inner part of your thighs, going paintieless might’ve been a bad idea. Minho scoffed at the interaction.

“You don’t deserve that treatment, whore.”

“What did she do this time,” Chan sighed at the younger boy, his hands rubbing your back in soothing circles. Channie was always sweet.

“Show him, slut, get on the desk and spread your legs,” Minho’s tone was harsh and youo looked at Chan for comfort.

“Go on,” he gently reassured you. Your lower lip wobbled and you pouted at the treatment one of the boys reserved for you, but the wetness in between your legs told a whole other story.

You slowly sat on the desk and brought your legs to your chest. Normally every command would’ve been met with a swift reaction from you but you already misbehaved that day so why not go all out.

“I don’t have all day,” Minho’s aura was menacing, you knew he didn’t like misbehaving.

“Baby, do as Minho says, okay?” Chan’s tone was gentle as usual.

With your hands planted behind you for support, you slowly opened your legs to expose your glistening bare cunt, your skirt pooled at your hips. Chan sharply hissed at the sighed, his big warm hand landed delicately on your calf.

“No panties, baby?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He liked when you were daring.

“It’s your valentine’s day present,” you felt hot and excited as the two boys eyed you like you were dessert.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” he looked at the other boy with a raised brow. At the same time his hand moved from your calf to your knee, his thumb circled your smooth skin.

“Was spreading your legs during class and showing me your pussy in front of everyone also a part of the present?” he stepped dangerously close to you and gripped forcefully your other knee, a stark contrast compared to Chan, “ did you forget that this is only ours to look at?”

Minho landed a harsh slap on your outer thigh and you whimpered.

“Is that true, baby?” Chan’s demeanor had changed but he was definitely less scary than Minho.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry baby, but this time I can’t defend you,” he let go of your knee and took a seat at his usual armchair, “punish her how you see fit, I’ll watch this time,” he talked to the other boy in the room.

Minho shot one of the most fiery and intimidating looks you had ever seen on him. His hand lifted and came in contact with your pussy delicately. His index and middle finger swiped slowly through your fold and played with your wetness. A small whimper escaped you, your eyes closed in an attempt to savor the small pleasure he was giving you. A harsh slap landed on your cunt.

“Get down and on your knees, slut.” He clearly wasn’t asking you and you struggled to get down from the desk without crumpling all of the documents on it.

Minho looked even more breathtaking when you were on your knees, you had never found an angle from which he looked ugly. Your boyfriend fumbled with his zipper and then took out his hard cock. Your mouth watered.

“Do you know what to do to stop?”

“Three taps on your right thigh,” you nodded. His hand carded through your hair. What seemed a sweet gesture quickly changed when he fisted your hair and pulled your hair.

“Mouth open.”

He gathered the saliva in his mouth and harshly spat out. His warm spit slowly trickled down your tongue. A moan slipped your lips at his harsh actions, but you didn’t have time to beg for more because Minho shoved his dick in your mouth. You whined.

He felt heavy on your tongue, his taste intoxicating. The tip of his thick cock pressed at the back of your throat, your teary eyes on Minho.

“You should see her right now, hyung, she looks just like the whore she is,” he spoke to the other guy in the room calmly, like his dick wasn’t down your throat.

“Oh I can see her don’t worry,” Chan’s voice sounded strained.

“Eyes on him whore while I fuck your mouth or you don’t get to cum for a week.”

You looked at Chan. The sight in front of you made you whine and clench in need; your other boyfriend had his pants and underwear shoved down and slowly fisted his cock. As soon as you made eye contact with Chan, Minho began to fuck your throat, setting a brutal pace. You did your best to help send him over the edge and tightened your throat around his big cock. A moan escaped Minho’s lips, his facade slipping for a second.

Chan on the other hand was still leisurely stroking his cock, he clearly had no intention of cumming so quickly but he was enjoying the view. You raked your eyes over his body, he looked like an ancient adonis. He was spectacular.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Can you make him cum?” asked Chan, his hand picked up the pace slightly. You hummed in agreement, the vibrations sending sparks up and down Minho’s cock. Your tongue started swiping the underside of his cock slowly.

“You’re good at this slut,” Minho grunted, his head thrown back and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. You moaned again, pleased with his reaction.

“God, I’m gonna cum, be good and swallow it all.”

Minho pushed his dick to the very back of your throat, your nose brushed his pelvis. Hot ropes shot down your throat while Minho moaned and pulled your hair tighter in his fist. Your hands made contact with his thigh to help you stand up.

“Stop.” You froze at the command.

“Stay like this and keep my cock in your mouth for the rest of the day, if you want to act like a whore then you should be treated like one.”

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lixxpix · 2 months

Text

burn- lee minho (l.mh)

| spotify playlist to listen to while reading^^

| summary: "you really think you can charm your way out of anything, don't you?" minho sighed, eyebrows pinched as he drove you back home.

"it's worked so far, hasn't it?" you grinned, chin in the palm of your hand as you stared out the window.

"one day, you'll meet your match."

| warnings: angst, bad parenting, daddy issues lol, cursing, drunk people, physical fights, blood, comfort and fluff tho, reader is a bit stupid while drunk but minho is her protector (we love a protective lino), lots of comfort and fluff i swear

| pairings: badboy/biker/college/honestly idk what to classify him as!leeknow x reader

| word count: 9.9k

| author's note: i decided to make it a proper story/fic with capitalisation and punctation this time! i realised my other fics are written in my texting style much like the style i am writing this note to you in rn, so hope u enjoy this format more or if you just want drabbles. i had to write this because hot badboy protective leeknow has been in my head for days lmao. enjoy luvs!

Minho sighed as he wove through crowds of sweaty, drunk people grinding against each other like horny animals. However, he kept his attention focused on you, trying to find you amidst the sea of bodies in a dingy, dark, and frankly overcrowded club. Eyes narrowing as he finally caught a glimpse of you, sitting at a bar drunkenly flirting with some idiot of a man.

"Y/n." He kept his gaze firmly trained on you, grabbing on to your arm tightly. You turned around, a scowl on your face until you saw who it was. "Lino!" you beamed, words slurring together as you tried to stand up, but unfortunately stumbling due to you deciding to wear six-inch heels to the club tonight. Minho's hand darted out, supporting you by the elbow, just barely saving you from completely toppling over.

"We need to go, it's late. Chaeryoung and the rest have already left." His lips thinned into a line, raising his eyebrows as you pouted up at him.

"But I wanna stay," you whined, tugging at his elbow in an effort to go back to the bar you sat at not too long ago.

"We don't have time for this, you're clearly wasted and we need to go. Don't argue with me." He sighed, eyebrows pinching together as you whined and protested.

"B-but- I wanna drink more, plus the guy at the bar said he would buy me drinks if I talked to him," you stared pleadingly up at him with your best doe eyes.

Just as you finished your sentence, right on cue, a man walked up, placing a hand on your shoulder. He looked menacing, rich, and was staring at you in a way Minho definitely did not like, he decided.

"Hey love, where did you go to? We didn't finish our conversation earlier," the man grinned, bending down to whisper in your ear, and Minho didn't miss the way you shivered the moment his hand slipped from your shoulder to your waist and the minuscule distance you tried putting between yourself and the man. "O-oh, nothing, I was just talking to my friend right here," you batted your eyelashes at the man in an attempt to make him think you were interested, not wanting him to attack you if you told him you honestly just wanted him to fuck off. The man was clearly a lot different now, his nice persona at the bar could have almost fooled you, you had only started to dislike him when he placed his hands on your shoulder.

"Look, mate, I'm not in the mood to be fighting with someone else right now. Get your hands off her and fuck off. Y/n, we're leaving." Minho gritted out, taking your arm and guiding you to his side as you cowered behind Minho like a baby deer.

"What the fuck? You told me your name was Yena!" the man looked at you, rage and fury in his eyes as he took a step towards you.

Minho's instincts immediately kicked in, pushing you behind him and stepping forward so that the man and his own noses were almost touching.

"I. Said. Leave. Her. Alone." Minho snarled, rage bubbling in his viens. The man was almost as tall as Minho, yet Minho had a more muscular body and was certain he could probably out-power him if he tried. The man sneered.

"I'd like to see you try."

And with that, Minho's fist was swinging towards his face, smirking when a crack resounded out the moment his knuckles met the man's nose, ignoring your cry of horror and the gasps from the patrons of the club.

The man stumbled back, clutching his nose, crimson blood dripping from his face, soaking his shirt as he howled in agony.

Minho grabbed your hand, dashing for it as the two of you ran out of the club, never stopping until you were in his car.

"What the fuck Minho," you gasped out, still clutching at your chest and trying to regain your breath.

"He deserved it," Minho shrugs, grabbing a pack of tissues from his backseat and trying to wipe the blood off his knuckles dry, wincing as he let out a hiss.

"Here," you grabbed the tissue from him, taking his hand before gently blowing on it and dabbing at the blood around the wound, being careful not to touch the wound.

And it was then Minho's world stopped, time freezing as his breath hitched. It was a sorry sight, the both of you sitting in his car in the middle of a parking lot behind the club, yet it felt like everything as he watched you treat his hand with the most gentle care. It was no secret to all of your friends that he had a crush on you, only that you had never noticed, pining on you from afar but never making a move. His breath stuttered when you smiled, placing a soft kiss on his hand when you were done with cleaning.

"Done," you giggled drunkenly. "A kiss to make it better. We can properly disinfect it later," you smiled, comfortably reclining in his car's seat as you stared out the window.

"U-uh, yeah," he stammered out, before hastily turning his car on and driving out, brain hazy from the kiss you had placed on his hand, butterflies erupting from his stomach.

He sighed. "You really think you can charm your way out of anything, don't you?" Minho sighed, eyebrows pinched as he drove you back home.

"It's worked so far, hasn't it?" You grinned, chin in the palm of your hand as you stared out the window.

"One day, you'll meet your match. He could've done something to you if I hadn't stepped in. Batting your eyelashes and pretending that you're busy isn't going to work all the time, what if he had persisted?" Minho's hand gripped the steering wheel tightly, eyes on the road as he sighed.

"I'll find a way out," you shrugged.

The rest of the car ride to your apartment was silent, you gently snoring as all the alcohol got to you and making you fall asleep.

Minho shook you gently, parked right outside your house.

"Hey, wake up."

You stirred slightly, grumbling before promptly going back to sleep.

"Yah, wake up or I'll pour cold water over you." He shook you more vigorously this time.

After several attempts to wake you up, he decided he had no choice but to carry you, grunting as he lifted you up and kicked the door of his car shut.

"God, when did you get this heavy," he groaned slightly to himself, arms aching as he waited for the lift.

Unlocking your apartment door with the spare key you had given him, he kicked off his shoes and removed yours, setting you down on the couch before shuffling over to the fridge to get you a hangover drink he knew would definitely come in handy tomorrow morning. Getting the necessary ingredients out of your fridge, he started making pasta, knowing your stomach would be empty when you woke up.

You woke up twenty minutes later from your nap to the aroma of homemade tomato sauce wafting through the house, blinking groggily as you watched a plate laden with piles of tomatoes, cheese, and spaghetti be set down in front of you, coupled with your favourite brand of hangover drinks by a giggling Minho.

"You look like a mess," he chuckled, digging into his own plate of pasta while sitting cross legged at your coffee table.

"Yeah, no shit sherlock." You grumbled, rubbing your eyes and unfortunately smearing mascara all over your face. "Shit."

Hurrying to the bathroom, you grabbed some makeup wipes, removing your makeup and throwing on some comfy clothes nefore heading out to eat your midnight meal with Minho, currently halfway through his plate already.

"Mm, this is good," your eyes widened in surprise as you took a bite of his food.

"Since when has my food never not been amazing?" Minho scowled playfully, glaring at you for a total of three seconds before bursting out in laughter.

Rolling your eyes, you silently ate, letting out small sounds of satisfaction as you smiled.

In that moment, Minho knew he was fucked. Well, truly, and utterly fucked. The way you looked at him with those sparkling doe eyes to the curve of your lips and the scrunch of your nose when you smiled had him bewitched and entranced, and he knew that his feelings for you were going to be there for a long, long time.

"I need to go back home, it's late," he stated, after both of you had eaten your fill and were lounging on your couch.

"Stay," you whined, and he felt his resolve crumble the moment you looked at him pleadingly.

"Fine."

You beamed at his response, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

Minho was no stranger to sleeping over at your house, the friend group the both of you were in always having random sleepovers whenever, all of you had clothes at each other's homes, so there really wasn't much of a reason for him to have to go back to his apartment at this late hour.

Taking a shower and changing into comfy shirt and shorts, he made his way into the living room, where you were fast asleep once again, shaking you gently.

"Go shower."

"Fineeee," you pouted, finally finding the will to get up and trod to the bathroom.

Later that night, the both of you lay curled up to each other in bed, his hand disinfected and wrapped up carefully in bandages by you.

"Min?" you asked sleepily.

"Yeah?"

"I like you. Like- like, like you, you know? In fact I think I love you," you rambled, a dopey smile on your face as you faced him, watching his features instantly morph into ones of shock.

Minho felt like his world had stopped, reeling from the shock as he processed what you said.

"This- this isn't a dream or a joke, right? It's real?"

The question came out as a barely there whisper, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

You smiled softly, taking his hand.

"No Min, it's not."

And that was all it took, that simple sentence, to have him lean forward and connect his plush lips to yours as he kissed you with every fibre in his being, holding you close as if he was afraid that you were a dream that would slip away the moment he let you go. You poured your soul into the kiss, deepening it, both of you never separating 'till your lips were swollen and your faces were flushed, gasping for air yet smiling giddily like toddlers receiving a lollipop, the rush of adrenaline and thrill coursing through you.

"I love you," Minho says, holding you close.

"I love you, and I would burn for you."

And he meant it.

#lee know x reader #lee minho #lee know #comfort #angst #non!idol au #stray kids #lee minho x reader #reader insert #skz x reader #fluff #comforting #warmth #drabbles #oneshot #Spotify #stray kids x reader #skz

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crispxxxx · 5 months

Text

how skz(hyung line)would react to 9th member reader being scared of everything

(Tw.none(?) please tell me if there is any!!!)

mankae line is coming soon‼️

Bangchan-

we all know he’s protective, especially over his members,

so he would make sure that during your time at his dorm that there is nothing there that can trigger you and he will talk to the members that stay at your part of the dorm to make sure that they are also being respectful of your needs, when its out of his control than he is all over you, hugging you, holding your hand, letting you hide behind him. All of it.

Leeknow

he would just be super protective and would most definitely shove tissues into anyone’s mouth who scares you, he's very aware of your needs and tries his best to help you when your upset but not before teasing you, but not enough to hurt your feelings

changbin-

he tries he really does but he startles you alot on accident especially when he gets excited, he does offer comfort almost instantly when he does scare you or when he notices that you scared, will feel so bad when he scares you like he’s crying for at least ten minutes. .

hyunjin-

hyunjin would probably be scared with you, if your scared he’s scared but when he's not scared with you he would make you laugh so you would forget about whatever was scaring you, would be so sweet tbh

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snowyquokka · 15 days

Text

based on this request !!

cw: horny texts, gn reader, swearing, embarrassed reader, mentions of edging, some of them are cocky mfs, bold hanji (non-sub energy can i get a round of applause. it was a struggle), uhhhh i think that’s it, lemme know if you spot something else !!

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

ᴄʜᴀɴ

ʟᴇᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ

ᴄʜᴀɴɢʙɪɴ

ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ

ʜᴀɴ

ғᴇʟɪx

sᴇᴜɴɢᴍɪɴ

ᴊᴇᴏɴɢɪɴ

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

tags: @godslino @skzstarnet @seungseung-minmin @myseungsunglove @azuna-sz

669 notes · View notes

hollybell51 · 2 years

Text

Worse ways to cope

Series masterlist, masterpost

Minho x fem!Reader

The Death Cure (2011 novel - James Dashner, 2018 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 4658

Summary: “lightly buzzed” confessions leading to making out leading to sex on a shitty couch. Set post-canon (hence The Death Cure as source media)

Content: smut. A massive amount of backstory for absolutely no reason. A lot of angst, talking about Newt dying (so violence, bit of mentioned blood/wounds etc). DRINKING! ALCOHOL! Unhealthily used alcohol! Don’t read this if you don’t wanna read about using alcohol as a coping strategy (disclaimer! I’m not endorsing or romanticising this at all, and I don’t encourage it! If things are rough, you should just spew your thoughts to strangers on the internet. Substances = bad coping mechanism). Kinda friends with benefits, feelings confessions, porn with feelings, making out, blowjobs, hickeys, light dirty talk, missionary, sex on a couch, safe sex (condoms! Yay!), first time

Notes: I got like three people asking for the others after I posted the Newt one so here you go, enjoy! Also apologies for the really bad summaries, I just suck at doing them and I can’t exactly get a friend to read my stuff then do it for me lmao

You set down the bottle with a soft “clunk”, leaning back against the couch. It was old and battered and a lot of the coverings on the cushions were coming off, not to mention the countless holes, but compared to the last few months it was heaven. The whole Safe Haven was heaven.

“That better not be empty,” Minho said, eyeing the (not empty) bottle between your feet.

“Half full,” you replied. “Is it Gally’s?”

He nodded. It sure tasted like the god-awful moonshine Gally used to make in the Glade, but you couldn’t be sure. Horrible as it was, the burn and the bitterness was familiar and welcome, a tie to the life and the people you’d left behind.

You glanced at your friend. He was slumped beside you, idly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring at the wall. You’d done this before, in the days since you’d arrived at the Safe Haven. But today was different, or he was different today. You could feel it. Maybe it was the warm breeze that had picked up around lunch time, maybe it was the prospect of the group of people who had volunteered to leave the safe haven tomorrow. Either way, you were restless and fidgety and there was definitely something tense in Minho.

It had been exactly a month since you’d arrived, and there was something heavier about everyone who’d been there in the city that night; you, Minho, Brenda, Thomas and Gally. Newt’s absence was like when you lost a tooth and you couldn’t stop running your tongue over where it should be, only to find empty space. And pain.

Even now, you could still see every detail with perfect clarity. The blue of the lights mingled with the orange of the fires, debris raining left and right as the walls came tumbling down and the desperate people from outside stormed the city. You didn’t want to think about your friend, lying on the ground, the handle of the knife sticking straight up from his chest. You didn’t even want to think about Teresa, sinking into a pit of flames as you all watched, helpless. You wanted to block the whole thing from your mind.

“I should’ve been faster,” Minho said, snapping you back to the present. “I could’ve saved him.”

You snorted. “We all could’ve saved him.” It always came back to this, no matter what. You’d sit down, have a normal conversation, maybe even crack some jokes, but then there was that massive pit yawning inside you that inevitably sucked everyone back to that night. It was like a black hole, so dense that nothing could escape its pull, devouring everything around it. But it was something that tied you together, and as much you hated it, you didn’t hate it.

He turned to look at you, his brow furrowed. “Do you blame me?”

You slowly bent, picked up the bottle and took another mouthful. Did you blame him? You couldn’t say you didn’t think it was his fault Newt had died, but Thomas had been the one with the knife and anyone else in the party had failed to see the signs or notice the scratch on his arm. You felt a bit bad for laying it all one someone who was dead, but really it was Newt’s fault for not telling anyone.

“(Y/N)?” Minho was looking at you, and though he tried to keep his face neutral, his eyes were pleading with you. Say no, he seemed to be screaming, say it wasn’t me. You knew the feeling all too well. You’d played the whole thing over and over, trying to work out if you could have done anything, and had come to the conclusion that if you’d been quicker getting the bloody berg to the rendezvous point, Newt probably still would have been alive. It ate at you even though you’d decided to put the responsibility on his shoulders.

“A lot of things could’ve gone different,” you said at last. “If he’d just told us straight off the bat, chances are we’d have gotten the cure. Simple as that.”

“You’re right.” He nodded, blowing out a breath between his teeth. “You’re right.”

“I wish I could just scratch the whole thing off my brain. It’s like…” you hesitated, struggling to find the words. “It’s like this coating over everything, you know?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, taking the bottle from between your legs. “I know what you mean.”

You were feeling lighter, softer. You supposed it was the alcohol hitting, but nothing really seemed as dark and real as it had just minutes before. It was like someone else’s memory, still sitting uncomfortably in your mind, but duller. You leaned over, resting your head on Minho’s shoulder and tracing a lemniscate on his thigh. Or an eight, depending on how you looked at it.

“This tastes so bad,” he whispered, as if the stuff in the bottle might hear him and get offended. “But it’s so good.”

“We should save some for later,” you whispered back. But you knew you wouldn’t, you never did. Thomas would frown if he saw you now, if he could hear your thoughts. He’d told you countless times to lay off the drinking, that he knew it was an escape but that that was bad, that it was better for everyone if you all just toughed it out sober and miserable. You had to disagree with him there.

Minho passed you the bottle, and you clumsily replaced the lid. You slid it onto the ground, groaning as it toppled over. But it was stoppered, so it would be fine.

“Keep doing that,” he told you, gesturing to your hand. You’d stopped tracing patterns on him to close the bottle, but at his words you resumed. He sighed, watching your fingers raptly.

“I’m happy you’re here,” you said eventually. It was true, he’d been your pillar of support over the last month. You’d sat together at almost every meal, worked on whatever it was you were doing together, talked about whatever you wanted to talk about, walked together and, yes, gotten drunk together. It was ridiculously comforting to have someone you liked being around who wanted to be around you.

“I’m pretty stoked about it too,” he grinned. You lightly punched his arm. “Seriously though,” he went on. “I’m happy you’re here.”

You looked up from your tracing, meeting his eyes. He was sincere, for once, and totally open. You hadn’t realised how important that was until recently, but now you treasured the fact that you could see his thoughts on his face. He could see yours too.

He glanced around quickly, but the recreation-room-turned-second-storage-shed you haunted was far enough from everyone else that nobody was going to disturb you. That was what you liked about it. Minho’s eyes found your own again, then flicked down to your lips, so fast you thought you’d imagined it. Were you that kind of drunk? Did you want to be? Then it happened again, and you were sure it was real.

Oh, was all you could think as he leaned forward, closing the gap between you with a kiss so gentle you could hardly believe it was coming from Minho, who never did anything by halves, and was always so loud and quick to add his five cents to anything. But his mouth was hesitant against yours, giving you plenty of time to draw back and tell him no, tell him that this wasn’t what you wanted.

Ironically, it was that very gentleness that cemented in your mind that yes, you very much did want this. You were angled awkwardly, twisted in the middle of your body with your legs beside his and your chest pressed against his shoulder. As you returned the kiss you shifted, your hands finding purchase on the front of his shirt, your fingers tangling in the material.

His own hands moved lightly down your sides, pulling at you to come closer. Without breaking the kiss, you slid a leg over his and shifted to straddle him, your hands still firmly planted on his chest. He was solid, real and warm and fuck he felt good to touch. Your earlier restlessness had migrated down to sit between your legs, uncomfortably warm and not entirely welcome.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he whispered, pulling back for air. “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna take advantage of you or anything like that–”

“You’re not,” you cut him off.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m buzzed, and not any more than you.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he looked from your face to the empty space behind you, the cogs whirring in his head. Damn him and his morals, you thought. Why did he have to choose now to be the perfect gentleman?

“If you don’t want to…” you started, but stopped when he shook his head. “You don’t want to?”

“I do,” he practically growled. “And that’s the bloody problem, isn’t it? We’re supposed to be friends, but every time we do this I end up thinking about you and then I want you and I don’t wanna want you like that cause you’re my friend, (Y/N), and we’re supposed to just…” He waved a hand helplessly, trailing off into nothing.

“Do you want me to shut you down?” you asked after a pause. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? Minho wasn’t one for big sappy speeches, he dropped casual little bombs into everyday conversation, or let you pick up on things yourself. He didn’t pour it all out like that.

He laughed, a bitter huff of breath that still smelled like Gally’s moonshine, gesturing at your thighs either side of his hips, your hands knotted in his shirt. “Do you wanna shut me down? Cause you’re not doing a great job.”

You bit your lip. You could feel the heat of his kiss like it was still happening, and God you wanted it to still be happening. You couldn’t stop now, couldn’t just say “no, I don’t want you,” and go back to your business, least of all because it’d be a fat bloody lie.

“I’m not gonna shut you down,” you said eventually. “I’m gonna give you till ‘three’ to shut me down, and then I’m gonna go right back to kissing you. Got it? One, two—”

His lips collided with yours, so hard and fast you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping you. It was a mess of tongue and teeth and lips as he pulled you even closer, his fingers digging into your waist almost painfully. Almost.

“Jesus, Minho,” you panted between kisses. How long had he wanted to do this for? Was it just when he was drunk, or did he think about you while he was eating lunch beside you, while you two were doing your various jobs, when he was sleeping. Maybe he did, you’d sure felt the evidence that he was thinking about someone some mornings when you woke up wrapped in his arms, and you were right there… If it had been anyone else the idea would have made you feel gross, somehow violated, but right now it just turned you on.

“Say it,” he murmured, his kisses moving away from your lips and down your jaw to your neck.

“Say what?”

“Say you want me.”

Again, you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping you. You were sure gonna have a hickey in the morning, but he felt good and he wanted you to tell him you wanted him… “I want you,” you whispered.

“Again.”

“I want you,” you repeated. “I want you to—” You broke off in a sigh as the hand that had been running over your thigh found your ass and squeezed.

“Want me to what?” he asked, still paying attention to your neck.

“I want you to touch me.”

He paused, and for a moment you thought you’d overstepped. Then he tilted his chin up to look at you, and smiled. He took the hem of your shirt between his fingers, not touching your skin, but close enough that you still got butterflies.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, then at your nod, pulled it swiftly over your head. “God, you’re hot,” he whispered, bending to pepper your chest with more kisses along the line of your bra.

“Gonna make me blush,” you laughed, but the joke was lost between the breathiness of your voice and the fact that you were, in fact, blushing. It wasn’t that he – or anyone else – had never paid you a compliment, but when he said it here, like that… well, your drenched panties could speak to its effect.

Minho’s hands were at the waistband of your pants now, and sweet Jesus you wanted him to just hurry up and touch you. You nodded frantically as he met your eyes in a question, and without further hesitation he slipped his fingers into your pants.

“You weren’t lying, huh?” he grinned. “You want me.”

“I want you to stop being such a tease,” you muttered.

He grinned wider. “Sure thing,” he said, his fingers brushing over your clit. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“There,” you gasped, “right there.”

“Here?” Minho raised an eyebrow, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves again.

“Fuck you,” you half laughed, half panted, only to be cut off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately and if so where he’d learnt it, but who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Please?” he whispered, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah, yeah whatever just— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that definitely made Minho blush, even as he smiled, when he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Like that?” he asked, as if your reaction wasn’t enough to tell him.

“How the fuck are you so good at this?” you asked. It was ridiculous, unfair. There really hadn’t been anything to learn from in the Maze, and this was the first time either of you had done this with anyone – that you could remember.

He frowned for a second, but (mercifully) didn’t stop. “I dunno. Am I really that good?”

It was your turn to grin. “Yeah,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he was that good. He was kissing your neck again, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip. He guided your movements as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

You could feel the hard, tight coil building in your stomach, your thighs and stomach already twitching as Minho’s fingers curled inside you. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, the little movement sending shockwaves of pleasure down to your toes, making your whole body spasm.

“Fuck, Minho,” you said as you came down from your high, still trembling. He’d stopped moving, his warm palm cupping your sensitive pussy gently. He was being really gentle with you, you reflected. It wasn’t that he was rough any other time, it was just not what you’d expected. It was nice.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Better than alright,” you whispered. “That was… really good.” You glanced down at his hand, now withdrawing from your pants covered in your wetness. Your gaze flicked up slightly to the now very noticeable bulge in his own pants, and you felt a bolt of heat go through you once more. “Can I…?” you trailed off, your fingers resting lightly just beside his zipper.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, already beginning to undo his belt buckle. “God, yeah.”

Minho’s eyes stayed on your face as you slid backwards off his lap, settling on your knees between his legs. You were careful and precise as you pulled his pants down, then his underwear. He was hard, you’d guessed that much, and it wasn’t that you’d never seen a dick before, but something about Minho’s dick made you hesitate. You weren’t really sure how this was supposed to go, and only knew that you wanted to touch him, and you wanted to make him feel as amazing as he’d made you feel just minutes before.

“Do I use my mouth?” you asked, then blushed. “Sorry, dumb question. Want me to use my mouth?”

“As long as you don’t bite me,” he joked.

You shrugged. “I’ll try,” you said, smiling up at him before taking his cock between your hands and lowering your head, placing a gentle kiss on the tip. You checked again, and at his nod, opened your mouth and slid as much of him as would fit into it. He cursed, his hand flying to your hair and his fingers tangling in it.

“You alright?” you asked, drawing back.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Don’t stop.”

You nodded, going down on him again. You were mindful of your teeth, instead using mostly your tongue and your hands where your mouth wouldn’t fit. You didn’t want to choke on him or, God forbid, make yourself sick on his dick. But the movements were easy, and Minho was guiding you. You let a moan escape you, which in turn made his hips jolt. You hummed again, and his hold on your hair tightened.

“God, you’re so good,” he whispered. “You look so good.”

That really made you moan, an embarrassingly desperate sound to accompany the embarrassingly desperate way your thighs rubbed together in search of any friction. This boy was driving you insane, and you were completely helpless.

You didn’t stop your increasingly messy sucking and licking, completely enraptured by the little breaths and gasps your attention was conjuring from Minho, revelling in his hand in your hair and the occasional curses or words of praise he let slip. You probably could have stayed there forever, listening to him forever, feeling his hot weight in your mouth forever, if he hadn’t brought his hand to your face and gently eased you off him. He surveyed your face carefully, running his thumb across your reddened and swollen lips.

“Hm?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. Were you doing something wrong? Did he want something else?

“If you kept that up I wouldn’t get to fuck like I want to,” he said softly.

Now it was your turn to be the teasing one. “And how’s that?” you asked, delicately licking your lips.

“On the couch, on your back, without your clothes.”

“Do I get a say in it?” you joked.

“Oh shit, sorry,” he said quickly. “If you don’t want to we don’t have to, it’s fine–”

“I was joking,” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “I want you to do whatever you damn well want to me.”

“Oh,” he said, his face equally as pink as your own. “Ok then.” Then he frowned. “We don’t have a condom.”

You cursed, rising from your kneeling position to glance around the shelves. It was a storage shed, right? Surely there’d have to be a first aid box somewhere. You spotted it next to a tub labelled “fire”, quickly crossing the room and rifling through it until you found what you were looking for. The packet was sealed, and while you didn’t exactly keep track of time how people used to, you had a feeling it was a bit past the expiry date. Still, semi-expired condom was better than no condom.

You threw it to Minho with a “catch!” before returning to your place next to the couch, reaching behind you to your bra clip. “If I take my clothes off will you take yours off?”

“It’s gonna be a bit hard to make this work through clothes.” He rolled his eyes, spinning the packaged condom between his fingers as he pulled his shirt over his head and quickly kicked off his pants. You gave yourself a moment just to look at him, to take in the perfectly formed muscles moving so smoothly under his smooth golden skin. The odd scar from various exploits did nothing to detract from how fucking gorgeous he was. Now you knew what people meant when they said someone had the body of a God, because that was the image Minho evoked in your mind.

“You’re so…” You trailed off, unsure how to say it without sounding corny. Then you shrugged. Who cared if it was corny when it was true? “You’re beautiful.”

Minho didn’t quite seem to know how to respond to that, he just laughed and ran a hand through his hair in a way that if you didn’t know better, you would have said was almost bashful. “So are you,” he said, meeting your eyes earnestly. Then he grinned, patting the couch next to him. “Come on, just get up here.”

“Ok,” you smiled. You stripped yourself of your remaining clothing, casting it carelessly aside and sliding down next to him. You nodded at the condom. “Do you know how to do that?”

He frowned. “Yeah.” He tore it open and put it on with a few fumbles and awkward joking (both from you and him), then looked at you and smiled as if to say “see? I got this, I know what I’m doing.”

“Good?” you asked, returning his smile.

“Good.” He kissed you again, holding your face gently in his warm hands. You grabbed his wrists, moving those hands down your jaw, your neck, your chest to rest on your breasts. He gave an experimental squeeze, and you hummed against his lips. Yes, that was good, that felt good.

You moved your own hands to his shoulders, pulling him with you as you tipped backwards to lie on your back, wrapping your legs around his waist. It took you a moment to get yourselves figured out and comfortable, but you finally settled with his hips slotted between your thighs, his arms propping him just above you. You could feel his hardness pressed against your still dripping centre, and you pulled him even closer, rocking your hips gently.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, his breath warm on your skin.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you asked, still holding him close against you.

“I sure plan on it,” he grinned. He reached between your bodies to his dick, carefully lining it up at your entrance. He looked to you for permission, and at your nod, softly slid inside you. You both gasped at the feeling, the stretch and the warmth of it. It was like he was made for you, the way he fit.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulder.

“Alright?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Move,” you practically pleaded. He did, slow and steady as you got used to each other. Everything he did seemed to be so smooth, you reflected. Every little movement he made – whether it was walking, throwing you a roll of bread at dinner, and yes, fucking you – was so precise and even, perfect down to the last atom. It was the same easy grace that made him such an amazing runner, such an amazing athlete in general. Maybe in another life he could have even been a dancer.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, bending his head to deliver more sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your neck and chest. Yep, you were gonna have hickeys when he was done.

“You feel good,” you replied. Your breath was coming short, a light sheen of sweat gathering over your skin even though you weren’t the one doing all the work. You reached down, running a finger in tiny circles over your clit.

“I wanna hear you,” he said. “Stop tryna be quiet, we’re far enough away.”

“Shit, ok,” you replied. Something about his words really got to you, sending a bolt of heat shivering down your entire body. He was so unintentionally good at it – talking – it was obscene. Your own hand combined with the steady thrusting of his dick was almost too much, not to mention you were still sensitive from cumming on his hand earlier. You weren’t going to last long, and judging by Minho’s shuddering breaths and muttered curses, your name sprinkled throughout, neither was he.

“Fuck, (Y/N), oh my God,” he moaned, his hands balled into fists in the couch’s worn out fabric.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped as you felt the tightness coiling inside you, more, more, more– “Holy fuck, I’m gonna–” You released with a frantic cry of his name, your spine arching and your legs locking around his hips. You felt yourself contract around his dick, the stuttering of his strokes as he too reached his climax.

He slowed eventually, coming to a stop as the tremors receded from your body and your brain returned to your head. You were spent, content to lie there with his warm, comforting weight on top of you until the world stopped turning.

But alas, he pulled out of you after a minute and took off the condom, tying a neat knot in the end and placing it beside a screwed up piece of newspaper that had held the pieces of dried potato – Frypan’s miserable attempt at making chips – that you’d brought with you when you’d come up here hours ago. You’d hide it in the bin later.

He sat on the edge of the couch, hands folded neatly, elbows resting on his knees. He looked just as beautiful as ever, you thought, though slightly less sure of himself than usual. You supposed this was new, and neither of you really knew what you were supposed to do. But you wanted to touch him again, wanted to feel his skin on yours and hold him close.

“Are you just gonna lie there and stare at me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You were jerked back to the present moment, realising that maybe you had been staring. But it didn’t matter, if you got an opportunity you were going to take it.

“Maybe,” you replied, a smile playing about your lips. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to lie down with me.”

“It’s a small couch.”

“We’ve slept on it before, it works fine. Will you just…” You trailed off, exasperated by how needy the words sounded in your head. “Come here and hold me, hug me or something, just lie down beside me” was what you wanted to say. You wanted to grab him and pull him down next to you and wrap yourself around him like some kind of demented python. “Come here,” you said instead.

Minho only hesitated a moment longer, then smiled and slid onto the decaying cushions beside you, pulling the blanket – or rather, the three badly stitched together blankets that served as a quilt for you when it was cold – over you both. He wrapped his arms around you, his chest warm against your back.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted this,” he murmured.

You ran your hand down his arm, lacing your fingers with his own. “Did you?”

He nodded. “I’d be pretty happy to just stay here forever,” he said.

You laughed. “Maybe not forever…”

“Nah, forever.”

You bent your head, pressing a light kiss to his hand where it rested over your heart. “Ok, forever.” There were worse ways to cope with what you’d both been through, and if sleeping with Minho on the world’s shittiest couch was on the menu, that’d be what you’d choose.

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