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biffhofosho · 7 months

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Le Cirque du Fantasme | Part One

Fandom: Monsta X

Genre: Smut, natch

Word Count: 12.2k

Pairing: Jooheon/Changkyun/Minhyuk x OC

Synopsis: Step right up! Step right up! Come one, come all to a celebration of the macabre, the daring, the enticing, and the beautiful. Inside this tent is another world—one that will challenge your senses as much as your soul. Nowhere else on Earth can you experience such an awakening. Just take caution—once you are awake, you’ll find it hard to ever go back to sleep.

The Vibe: Third person (as always), fall fog, small town, lost and found, night circus, inhumans, the seen and the unseen (heh), everything fantastical and provoking, wonderstruck OC, questioning reality, copious amounts of worldbuilding leads to copious amounts of smut, foursome, suspension, light bondage/shibari-adjacent, temperature play like woah, sexual oneupsmanship lol, acrobatic sex yw

A/N: Literally the second the opening bars hit on “Daydream,” I knew I was going to write an October fic to it. Not only that, I knew exactly what it called for.

I had originally intended to publish multiple October fics, same as last year, but since I boned myself over with my earlier writing hiatus, the least I can do is give you a twoshot. This is my love song to my readers who love worldbuilding as much as I do. I didn’t try to rein in the muse this time, so hopefully you disappear into another reality entirely with me. Also—

Since it’s October, when we do get to the smut, I, um, went slightly more deviant than usual ahahaha. .-.

Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03

“Oh, no.”

Mariam is aware that, all things considered, she is under-reacting.

She is lost when there is no reason for her to be lost.

Only minutes ago, she was walking home from her late shift at the diner, and now she is wandering through fog as thick as stuffing and woods where there should be sidewalk. It’s nighttime, but it’s doubtful that even in daylight things would change. Even with the pale moon, she can neither see where she has come from nor where she is headed.

The fog has muffled every sound like a pair of noise-canceling headphones. She can hear only the crunch of dry leaves under her boots. And, yeah, it’s late, but where’s the traffic? She always passes a few cars on the road. She realizes that is exceptionally weird, but there’s nothing to do but move forward. Carmel isn’t very big; she’s bound to wander into one of the old cemeteries any moment, and then she’ll know she’s close to her apartment.

Still, the woods are a little concerning. Town might be tiny, but if she’s somehow wandered into the woods around Ninham Mountain, Mariam could be lost for hours. The state forest is huge and full of lakes, and she is definitely not on any sort of trail at the moment.

Slowly, her usual cavalier attitude wears thin. It’s getting cold. The chill of autumn bites at her through her flannel, and she withdraws her fingers into her sleeves before they can chap. The further she walks into the fog without a guidepost, the more nervous she gets.

“Idiot!” she curses at herself.

Suddenly, it dawns on Mariam to check her phone. She fishes it out of her bag to find she’s been walking for ten minutes, which is her usual walk home, but she can’t see a single building let alone a sidewalk. Foolish as it is, she decides to map her route, but something much more alarming happens.

No signal.

She cannot call. She cannot text. She cannot even access her GPS.

The little marker on the map has her floating in a blob of gray, which is ironic considering she is unmoored in a cottony swab of nothingness.

“Oh, no.”

This time, at least, Mariam is painfully aware that her reaction is right on point.

She keeps her phone in hand now in the hope of catching a wisp of signal. She doesn’t feel like she’s walking up hill—she doesn’t feel like she’s moving at all—but in the hopes that she is, maybe she’ll pick up the cell tower. Realistically, she can’t have gotten that lost in ten minutes.

Her ears perk. She hears something other than her own feet, and she stops to make sure she isn’t hallucinating it.

Nope, that’s music all right. It’s just really, really weird music. Like someone’s playing organ music, but it’s definitely not from the Baptist church. It’s too… whimsical?

Mariam cocks her head. It reminds her of something. She can’t remember what, but something from her childhood, she’s sure.

With no other options, she walks toward it. At least she’ll find one other human out here who can give her some directions.

She turns on her flashlight, but it just rebounds off the fog and blinds her. Mariam stumbles against a tree and waits for the flood of brilliance to wash from behind her eyes. When she opens them again, the fog has miraculously thinned.

She’s definitely in the woods, not one of the little town parks or someone’s backyard but somewhere wild and unmanicured. The trees are spindly but thick, almost claustrophobic. There’s still no sign of a trail, and yet it seems like she’s on one. In fact, she can see it laid out before her, free of brambles and thickets and fallen trees. The fog is thinner there, too, though all along the sides of her, it’s as dense as cinder block.

The only thing that makes sense is following it, so Mariam does, and as she walks, the music gets louder. It also becomes more familiar. Maybe it’s because she’s lost, but something about it is so inviting. If notes can be colorful, these are positively flamboyant. She finds herself smiling in the fog.

The trail-not-trail bends and when she rounds a big boulder, she sees it.

There, in a glade cloistered by a lush canopy of fiery red maples, squats an enormous circus tent replete with a black flag snapping in a breeze that she can’t feel. The tent is striped white and black, high contrast even in the dark. There’s a long entrance tunnel, and at its maw is a ticket window lined with warm white lights. It glows like a lighthouse, and Mariam finds herself drawn into its harbors.

There’s a man in the window. He’s the most intense blend of handsome and cute she has ever seen. If she looks at him from one side, his eyes are thin and sharp, and they cut through her like razors, but if she looks at him from the other, his dimples cup his playful mouth as though they can barely contain his inner vibrance. His hair is darker than the night itself, making his skin look white as starlight by comparison, but the booth lighting frames his head like a halo. He’s an impossible mix of everything all at once, and she has never seen his equal.

Mariam steps to the window with an overwhelming sense of intimidation.

“Welcome, fair lady,” he says. His voice is potent. He says each word with a confidence that she has never felt in her whole life even at her best, and she finds herself captivated in the span of five syllables. His eyes dance as he studies her. “You’re just in time.”

“For what?” she asks.

“Showtime, of course. I was just about to close the ticket window, but lucky for us, I didn’t.”

It’s kind of a weird thing to say, Mariam thinks, but his unswerving confidence makes her reconsider.

“Actually, I was just looking for directions?” she says with more of a question than she intended.

“It seems to me you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Again, his conviction makes her question hers.

“I wasn’t planning on going to a show tonight.” She fishes through her bag and finds the small roll of ones and fives from her shift. Tuesday shifts were notoriously poor payouts, but a traveling outfit this elaborate has to cost a pretty penny considering how exclusive it must be out here in the middle of nowhere. “How much? I don't have much cash on me. You take cards?”

“Those little plastic rectangles?” he replies with a flippant smile. “Pointless.”

Mariam frowns. “Then I don’t think I can afford it.”

He leans across the counter, almost through the window itself, into her personal space. Her hands fly to her chocolate locks and gather them to one side, twisting and twisting it as tightly as she feels her stomach twisting.

“Oh, admission is very reasonable,” he assures. This time when he smiles, it feels like he’s keeping a secret. He presents a golden ticket, the glossy paper winking as it turns between his well-manicured fingers. “Admission is only a dream.”

“A dream?” Mariam says skeptically.

“Just that, miss. In exchange for the best dream you’ve ever had, we will provide you with a new one. Seems like a fair trade, yes?”

“It would be if I knew what you were talking about.”

“I promise you’ll never experience anything else like this.”

Her brow furrows as she glances up at the big top. “I don’t even know what this is.”

The ticket-taker pouts, and his lush lips fatten to sumptuous thickness. “I’m afraid the show must start, miss. Do we have a deal?”

Mariam considers. This isn’t why she came—no, wait, she didn’t intend to come here at all—but she is here now, and this charming ticket monger is next to impossible to resist. What’s the harm in telling him one single dream? He doesn’t need to know about that particular dream.

And, anyway, it’s not like he’s conning her out of any money. In essence, it’s some free, entertaining shelter from a foggy night. She weighs her options and makes her decision.

“Am I supposed to, like, write it down or something?” she asks.

“Just lean in,” he instructs.

Hesitantly, Mariam tips forward over the counter, and for a brief second, his plump lips ghost along hers.

She should jerk back. She should slap him. But she does nothing but let him kiss her like the night mist. She is frozen as a current of muddy feelings spill like water from her lips. The back of her brain tickles a bit, but it’s overruled by the more pleasant tickle of his lips dusting over hers.

When he’s done, he licks his lips, which have curled into a tiger’s grin. His eyes are lively, and he’s panting lightly. He clears his throat and adjusts his hips in his pants somewhere behind the counter.

“How delicious,” he practically purrs. “I may have to keep that one for myself. I almost feel bad for taking it from you, but I promise the replacement will exceed it.”

He presents the golden ticket, and Mariam takes it. She expects it to feel like paper or maybe metal, but instead, it feels gauzy, and she can't stop rubbing her thumb over it.

“Straight through there, fair lady,” he says. “The show is about to start, and a whole new dream awaits you.”

The ticket monger holds open the black curtain, and she enters the tunnel. The moment the curtain shuts behind her, it is blacker than an abyss. The only thing she can see is a thin, shimmering line of light at the far end.

Outside, she hears the snap of the ticket booth closing, and she knows she is alone. The music is louder now, drawing her forward more powerfully than ever, and she realizes why she recognized it in the first place. It rises and falls and scampers and twirls, almost as though she can see the notes surrounding her, teasing and laughing at her. It is the song of childhood, of delight and fantasy.

It is the song of the circus.

There are smells here, too, familiar and unfamiliar. There is the buttery warmth of popcorn and, beneath it, something much more unctuous, a bit like when the cooks at the diner render the lard for the pie crusts. There's a hint of something acrid too, and it reminds her of the smell of her father's rifles.

Mariam follows the tunnel to its end, where she parts the drape only to be assaulted by the brilliant spotlights surrounding a huge red ring. There are seats seven layers high around three sides terminating at a ring entrance shuttered by another heavy curtain, but this one is three times as tall and wide as the entrance she just came through. Just surrounding the ring are four enormous tent poles soaring to the canvas above, where wires zig and zag across the arena and café lights accent each black and white stripe, softening the harsh spotlights.

The ticket-taker is there to greet her as though he has never seen her before. He beams at her, those dimples creasing his plump cheeks. Mariam approaches with her ethereal ticket in hand and starlight in her eyes.

“What’s this? A golden ticket?” says the man with a sharp eyebrow raised. “We have ourselves a VIP tonight it seems. You’re in for a truly mesmerizing experience, miss. Follow me. I will show you to your seat.”

He does not take the ticket from her after all but, instead, leads her across the ring itself toward a pair of empty seats in a box on the floor.

“VIP?” she says as she struggles to keep up with his commanding steps. His thick black boots thunk across the floor and resound under the big top. “But I didn't pay you anything for it!”

“But you did,” he insists. “The most tantalizing dream gets the VIP treatment. After all, we have to work harder to replace what we have taken.”

Mariam tries to remember the dream she’d thought about before she entered, but where her brain searches for the memory, it finds only the lingering taste of his lips, which she savors like berries ripened by the moon until they’re ready to burst. It’s a bit of a silly thought, yet dark, sweet juice coats her mouth and whets her appetite for something even darker.

They stop outside the box seats, and the dimpled man holds open the door with a question on his face. “You want VIP, don’t you?”

“I do,” she finds herself answering.

This broadens the man’s shoulders, and now he smiles so widely that those thin eyes shut under the powerful force of his bright cheeks. “Your private seats then, my fair lady.”

Mariam sits on one of the velvet-padded seats as he closes the door and offers her a sweeping bow like the showman he is. The ticket-monger-turned-usher disappears now behind the backstage curtain, and she has little doubt she will see him in the show, most likely as a clown judging from his over-the-top antics.

As she tries to relax into her seat, Mariam spares some time to look beyond the open stage and see what other lost souls have stumbled into this weird circus. She wonders if she’ll see any of her friends or coworkers in the stands.

She does not. What she finds is far more unnerving.

There are only a dozen or so other spectators in the stands. None of them sit anywhere near each other. They are spread throughout the whole tent, high and low, mostly in shadow because the spotlights are fixed downward in the ring. At first, she thinks they are strays like her, but as they wait for the show to start, Mariam begins to doubt they are even human. If she looks at any one of them head on, they look like normal people, mostly men but a few women, too, but from her periphery, she swears she sees the jaws of a wolf or the skin of a lizard or even a pair of antlers when she turns her head. Most have eyes of glinting gold exactly like those she’s seen along the road when her high beams catch just so.

And there are fangs. Fangs everywhere, some long and thin, some fat or even serrated.

One of them, a thin, hunched man with mottled scales in patches all over his body, is eating from a black and white striped carton which might usually house popcorn, but it definitely isn’t, and he isn’t eating whatever it is with his hand but with quick snaps of a lightning-fast tongue.

Mariam is growing uncomfortable again. She had thought this place might get her back home, but it has taken her somewhere far more foreign, and she’s feeling more alone than ever. She has felt different a lot in her life but never like an actual alien.

She should probably be more scared than anything, but none of these people—creatures—are looking at her. They are all looking toward the ring. Nobody speaks although she swears she hears a snort from one side of the arena that someone echoes on the other side with a series of strange clicks.

She wishes the berry-lipped man would come back and take the seat beside her. She can’t be sure he’s human now either, but she trusts his smile and his dimples, even if she shouldn’t.

Just when Mariam is ready to dart to the exit, music swells anew. It is far more powerful than the spirited diddy that lured her here. Under the big top, the organ booms and the drums thunder, and everything feels like it’s spinning like a carousel.

“Strangers! Friends! Denizens of the dark and light dwellers alike!” comes a voice of unquestionable power from somewhere backstage. As far as Mariam can tell, there is no sound system. It's just the voice of a true entertainer filling the canvas wall-to-wall. “The time has come to revel in the greatest spectacle the night has ever seen. Pretense, common sense, even the very laws of nature itself, have no place under this canopy. What you will experience tonight will challenge your very perception of reality. Nothing you have seen before tonight can prepare you for what you are about to see. At times, you may think you have wandered into a dream, but I assure you, what you are about to witness is so much more. Welcome—”

The backstage curtains sail wide with a snap and a flutter, and a man bursts through, his arms wide and his dimples shining in the spotlights.

“—to Le Cirque du Fantasme!”

The audience applauds, rather lackluster Mariam thinks for the passion of such a lofty introduction, so she tries to clap just a little louder than everyone else. After all, she is getting the VIP treatment, so she should return the favor.

The man rises from a bow that completely folds him in half, and she shakes her head in awe. She had expected—hoped—to see him again, but she is not prepared for the striking figure the former usher cuts in his crimson crushed velvet coat. The tails swish at the back of his knees as he laps the ring. Diamond buttons splinter in the light as does the sweat already beading at his brow.

“I am Jooheon, your ringmaster, but I am also your guide. For every wonder you experience tonight, I will be by your side to remind you that what you are witnessing is indeed real. Together, we will discover there is magic left in the world if you know just where to look.”

He stops in front of the VIP box and tips his head with a smile just for Mariam, and then he is gone.

Back in the center of the ring, Jooheon enumerates the many wonders on their horizon, impossible, tantalizing things that cannot be real, yet the more he promises, the more she believes him. Thanks to this man’s unprecedented versatility, she is also starting to believe this is a one-man circus. Maybe he will perform all of the spectacular acts he’s teasing.

But Jooheon confounds her again. With a dramatic swoop of his hand, he draws the audience’s eyes to the massive curtains at the rear of the tent, and slowly, the heavy fabric parts by unseen hands.

Mariam’s seat trembles. At first, she thinks she’s imagining it, caught up in the ringmaster’s passion, but then it trembles again and again, and she realizes they’re tremors.

No. Footfalls.

The arena is dead silent.

Thwomp. Thwomp. Thwomp.

The face appears first in shadow—a great black snout snuffling so strongly that the curtains puff. Even through the veil of backstage, the eyes are clear and bright, an otherworldly metallic green that flash the same sort of gold that some of the audience members possess.

Another footfall, and the muzzle appears, ornamented with thick black lips fringed by snow white and overhung by two bone-shattering fangs as long as her hand.

Since Mariam sits off to the side, the eyes do not seem to perceive her, yet she tucks her legs up against herself and ducks her head to peer from behind her knees as the rest of the creature emerges to fill the ring.

It’s a wolf—if one can call it that. It’s nearly twice the height of a horse and just as broad. Its fur is white all over save for the silver tips to each hair that make it sparkle in the spotlight. Its chunky claws click on the ring floor as it shuffles into position.

Mariam relaxes now. Maybe it’s because Jooheon is standing there unbothered by its haunches or maybe it’s because its face is rather doglike despite its other ferocious features or maybe it’s the fact that its tail is wagging, but most likely, it’s because a man sits astride its great shoulders, scratching its fluffy ears.

“Friends, behold!” trumpets Jooheon. “Our Amorak and our beastmaster, Shownu! Together, they will take us on a journey through the world of creatures long considered too elusive or vicious to be tamed. Many have been laughed at for believing the campfire tales or legends of our ancestors, but for Shownu, these legends are not legends at all but friends and allies, and now, they will be yours, too.”

The Amorak sits down, and Shownu releases its mane to slide down its back like a child on a playground. The beastmaster lands easily and pats the great wolf’s backside. With a snap of the man’s fingers, the Amorak stands and side-steps as delicately as a pony so that even a man as imposing and broad-chested as the beastmaster stands beneath the animal, the man’s head at its elbow.

From the shadows beneath, Shownu whistles, and the wolf spins so its back legs face the audience. Another whistle, this one like a see-saw, and the creature wags its tail in huge, careful strokes that send its long fur sweeping the faces of the audience members brave enough to sit in the first couple rows. Laughter rings out. Mariam finds she is laughing, too, and perhaps even a little envious.

As if he knows this, Jooheon saunters over to the VIP box and says, “Fair lady, would you please stand?”

“What?” she whispers hoarsely.

“Now is better,” he teases with his dimples.

The Amorak shifts, and now there is no doubt it perceives her. The beastmaster steps out from the belly of the beast and walks toward her. Mariam shoots up from her seat, less out of fear of the creature than out of respect for its master.

Shownu stands opposite Jooheon at the box and centers his attention on the VIP. There is a gentleness in his face that she could never have anticipated considering his ominous moniker, but Shownu smiles at her very differently than Jooheon ever has. His lips do not part but, instead, sit neatly atop each other in a way that raises his cheeks like two little fresh-baked rolls.

“Hold out your hand, palm up,” the beastmaster instructs in a gruff but inviting voice.

Mariam does so hesitantly, and when her arm is fully extended, the Amorak raises its paw, too, and places it light as a feather in hers. It’s so huge that only a portion of a single blazing paw pad fills her palm. Its long feathery fur tickles her skin, and she finds herself giggling. The two men exchange smiles, and the Amorak lowers its head. It snorts once, and her long hair sails behind her. She laughs harder now, and the beast and the beastmaster withdraw to the heart of the ring again, her body vibrating both from the experience and the tremors of footfalls.

Mariam sits back down, cradling her hand to her chest with a slack-jawed smile on her face.

The duo performs a few other stunts—the Amorak stands on his back legs and wobbles in the circle, as does Shownu, which has the audience cackling, and then it howls, nearly blowing the roof off the circus tent, which sends the audience cowering—before the wolf takes a seat and Shownu takes a post at the curtain.

Another man, this one even broader and more muscular than Shownu, comes out just long enough to shepherd in two sweet-faced animals before he disappears into the back. At first, Mariam thinks they are fawns, but then she sees the tawny wings folded at their backs.

Jooheon introduces these as perytons, not that that means anything to her, but the antlered person she’d caught sight of earlier in the stands cheers and stamps so enthusiastically that the ringmaster practically glows with the praise.

Shownu gets the energetic little critters to perform a choregraphed dance, which would be cute enough, but then they take to the sky, and whimsy becomes awe. The perytons glide and weave just like birds though they snort and snuffle like deer. Mariam is so lost in the spectacle that she barely catches Jooheon’s note that their sweet faces conceal true power, and no sooner does he say this then one of the little deer-birds divebombs the spectator with the popcorn container and, with taloned back legs instead of its hooved front ones, grabs a hunk of what looks like entrails and lobs it back like a baseball to its friend. The other peryton snaps it out of mid-air to devour it, and the sight of a sweet little fawn face gobbling intestines is not something Mariam imagines she will ever forget. The Amorak growls, and the two mischievous babies promptly land, bleating like kids laughing at their father.

After that, Shownu spreads his arms out wide and lifts his powerful chest, and the perytons follow suit, their hawk-like wings fanned out, every feather articulated. There’s no denying the stir in Mariam’s belly as she studies the beastmaster commanding his beasts, for they follow his every command unquestioningly.

The perytons perform a few more aerial tricks of agility with a ball and a ribbon, and when they are done, the buff shepherd from earlier fetches them to the back and then returns, this time dropping a trail of meat into the ring.

From the back inches a gigantic pink blob. The front end is nothing but a gaping maw lined with hundreds of wicked teeth, and… that’s it—it’s nothing but pinkness and horrifying teeth. Again, Mariam finds herself tucking her feet up onto her chair as though she’s afraid it will break into the box and mow her clean off at the knees.

Jooheon explains this is a Mongolian Death Worm, eyeless and earless but hardly helpless. The crowd is instructed to keep quiet since it hunts by vibration, but Mariam quickly sees that is only partly true when the worm reaches Shownu, and the beastmaster stoops down to pat the top of its head while two big nostrils open for a long sniff.

The creature is longer than her father's car and the color of exposed muscle. Its segments undulate when it moves as well as when it eats, which is an awful lot like Taz from the Looney Tunes, she thinks. It should be grotesque, but Mariam can't help but find it adorable as the monster looks up at its master and seems to smile even without eyes and lips.

Through a series of stamps and claps of his hands against the floor, Shownu communicates with the beast. It rolls up and lunges on command, jawless mouth snapping. It roars with the power and ferocity of a sandstorm, and her blood curdles. Then, as if to rub its stubby pink nose in the face of its moniker, the worm curls into a ball that Shownu scoops up in his sturdy hands and lobs straight into the air for his Amorak to catch in its mouth. Finally, the big wolf drops it to the ground, and the giant wad of chewed bubble gum unspools and jiggles itself dry to the squeal of the few audience members who sat too close to the action and got sprayed with giant dog saliva.

As the laughter dies down, however, the ringmaster reminds everyone not so subtly that this is a death worm. To prove that point, Shownu brings out a giant rod with a metal ball on the end and taps the top of the worm's head. It growls—a sound that trembles in the bones more than in the ears, a bit like a building earthquake or an oncoming train—and rears up, and when it does, it puffs out almost twice its width. Fantastic crackles of lightning discharge from its head and arc into the ball at the end of the rod. They snap and pop and sizzle in yellow so brilliant, Mariam has to close her eyes most of the way so she doesn’t go blind.

When at last the worm deflates, panting in the ring, the beastmaster touches the tip of the rod to the metal pole supporting the tent, and a sonic boom shivers the canvas on its rails. The residual electricity stands up every hair on Mariam's arms and, unfortunately, most of her head, too, which she is quick to smooth down. Shownu pats the worm on the head again, and the chubby blob slinks off behind the buff shepherd, rather satisfied for a death worm, she thinks.

After a hearty round of applause, the beastmaster and the Amorak both bow to the audience, and Shownu takes the opportunity to leap between the giant wolf’s shoulder blades. When it rises again, the man sits astride with a nod for the crowd and one specifically for Mariam, and he looks as much like a cowboy on a horse as he does a man on a mythological creature.

Jooheon takes center stage again, and she is struck by just how much the man seems to belong in the spotlight. With a toothy grin, he says, “Shownu, everyone! Please let him hear how much you loved his menagerie of talented friends.”

Applause and cheers ring out, and Mariam joins in extra loudly since she’s still feeling electrified by the death worm.

“For our next act, I invite you to feast your eyes on a man with the strength of a beast, the body of a god, and the face of an angel. But it isn’t just strength he brings to the table, no, no, no, but agility. Straight from the realm of the Fair Folk, prepare to delight in the beautiful brute force and precision artistry of our resident fae, Wonho!”

The ringmaster steps to the edge of the ring as the former shepherd returns to center stage, padding out in bare feet unaccompanied. He is massive, with enormous shoulders corded with muscle protruding from his tank top. Mariam wonders how it doesn’t burst at the seams considering how the rest of his chest bulges against the fabric, but maybe that’s just another part of the circus magic or it’s simply painted on. It's not much different with his pants. The way the fabric stretches around his tree trunk thighs is perhaps even more magical, and she knows she should probably look away, but how can she when it seems as though the man was made specifically to ogle.

His white hair has the faintest hint of lilac, and like the Amorak fur, there’s a metallic glint to it, but it’s nothing to the glint in his emerald eyes. Even from ringside, they are piercing, so green that they seem lit by some internal flame, and when they fall to her, Mariam exhales so sharply that she realizes she’s been holding her breath since he strolled in.

He is carrying something in his enormous hands. It looks like a giant crystal cube, and it warps and shatters the light like a disco ball.

Wonho smiles. It’s as dazzling as Jooheon’s, all teeth but no dimples, and it accentuates just how delicate he is despite his big body. His ears stick out like little butterfly wings, but just before she can be spirited away by such cuteness, he shucks the tank top over his head, and it’s not just the intimidating display of muscle that catches her off-guard—it’s the actual set of wings at his back.

They unfurl, thin and translucent as stained glass, framed in by silver rims as fragile as the mint green panes inside. She thinks there's no way that something so ethereal could possibly be functional, but, as if to prove her wrong, Wonho alights before her eyes toward a crow's nest just above the ring. The wings make a rustling sound, like a stack of papers blown apart at an open window. They beat nearly as fast as a bumblebee’s, and when he pivots in the air, the breeze they make ruffles Mariam’s hair.

He lands on the platform there and puts down the block in his hand. He wipes his hands on his pants and then rubs them together before waving at each group of the audience. To Mariam, he adds a bow.

When he's ready, he takes several deep breaths, that gargantuan chest ballooning with every one. He picks up the block and splays his hands on either side of it, and then she hears the cracking. It sounds like ice when she pours soda over it at the diner, pops and crackles and pings.

His biceps strain and his forearms flex, and the cracking gets louder and louder and louder. Huge fissures zigzag across the cube until there's an explosion. The cube is powder now, piles in his hands and at his feet. Before anyone even has a chance to applaud, the strongman pivots and flaps his wings, and now, it's snowing under the tent. Like an oscillating fan, he swivels from side to side, and Mariam feels the kiss of snowflakes on her cheeks and lashes. It melts instantly, but its dewy memory sends a smile of pure marvel to her face.

Instead of flying down from his perch, Wonho leaps and lands on his feet with a thud so fast that the snow is still falling like glitter on his fair skin. He doesn't bother to brush it off but lets it melt to a sparkly finish that turns him into living art.

He spends a few minutes lifting impossibly heavy objects and then taking to the air with them as though they are beach balls and not anvils and boulders and other ridiculous things. With his hands, he twists pipes into shapes like balloon animals and ties a knot—out of rebar—with his feet.

Another man emerges from the back then, this one long and thin like taffy freshly pulled, but when he steps into the ruthless lighting, she sees his fair skin is covered in delicate iridescent scales. He brings a stool, a mirror, a bow and arrow, and a bullseye. The tall man configures everything carefully while Wonho makes faces at his coworker in the mirror, and Mariam realizes the strongman is just as much a clown as anything.

When everything is ready, the tall man steps back. Wonho does a handstand on the stool, his back to the bullseye and his eyes on the mirror opposite it.

There’s something about the way his muscles lengthen as he contorts that has Mariam licking her lips. The twitches in his forearms as he adjusts, the flare of his ribs under that dewy skin, that illicit bulge urging against the constraints of his lycra pants—Wonho is truly an astonishing sight, and there’s a pang in her heart when she realizes how much of the world will never know his beauty and grace.

When he’s balanced just so, muscles trembling and abdominals squeezing with breath and stability, the other man situates the bow with the arrow already nocked between Wonho’s nimble feet.

The strongman shuffles his hands on the stool seat and achingly slowly bends his legs, arching his chest as a counterbalance. When the bow and arrow are lined up with the bullseye, Wonho grips the bowstring and pulls it taut.

Mariam holds her breath.

Wonho holds his.

The arrow flies.

Straight into the red bullseye.

The small crowd breaks out into uproarious applause, and she finds herself standing as she claps. Wonho bows to them all as the tall man clears out the equipment, and just as the strongman finishes his rounds, the Amorak comes bounding back in.

The audience recoils at the sudden thunderous intrusion, especially since the great beast is growling, but Wonho is unbothered, and only then does Mariam realize there’s a humongous rope lodged in its great teeth. The strongman pats the wolf’s head before he snatches the free end of the rope and shakes the Amorak back and forth. The growling turns to snarls.

Wonho takes to the air, yanking and pulling, those fragile wings beating more ferociously than the snarls sound. The Amorak digs in its claws and tries to pull back, but with a cheeky wave to the crowd, the white-haired fae drags the wolf back through the curtain as though the creature ten times his size is nothing but a tiny terrier.

The room is speechless, which Jooheon is only too happy to discover.

The ringmaster slides right back into the spotlight and trumpets, “Don’t forget to let Wonho hear it if you were impressed.”

Of course, the small crowd erupts, Mariam chief among them. She can’t escape the image of those pretty wings contrasting rock-hard muscle, the kiss of ice crystals melting on ivory skin.

It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. She is shaken to her very core.

“We’re not done yet, folks,” Jooheon promises as he cuts through her existential crisis. “Our next performer is just as sure to wow you as much with his incredible dexterity as his unparalleled visuals. I personally guarantee you have never before seen anything like his act let alone the performer himself. He has come up from the darkest depths of the sea to dazzle and delight you with wonderous abilities only a one-of-a-kind hybrid like himself can conjure.

“During portions of the show, you may feel tempted to enter the ring. For your safety as well as the safety of our performer, I ask that you please use the seatbelts provided at your seat before we begin.”

Mariam looks down and finds that there is indeed a belt dangling from her chair, which seems utterly ridiculous at first, but as she recalls the incredible things she’s just witnessed, she secures it around her waist. Only a moment later, as the click of buckles ding around the tent, Jooheon walks by with a gentle smile, though his eyes are on her secured seatbelt.

He does the same throughout the rest of the crowd while two new men, one with red hair and one with blue, emerge with Wonho from the back and lift a large wooden cover from the center of the ring to reveal a shallow pool of water. They roll the cover off to the side into a metal corral and then linger at the lip of the ring along with Shownu and the man with the scales, who takes up his station closest to Mariam’s booth. Each man turns his back to the stage to watch the crowd instead, and when the man with the scales catches her gaze, the iridescence shimmers to the sweetest pink before it goes white as a sheet.

She has only a moment to reflect on the tall man’s otherworldly elegance before Jooheon clears his throat.

“Introducing: the one, the only, the luminescent Kihyun!”

The lights dim and the gentle circus music that always swells between acts dies entirely. Each of the last two performances had music, but now, it is so quiet, all she can hear is the lapping of the pool.

It is almost pitch black, though there is just enough light to see a figure emerge from behind the curtain.

He is compact and wiry. His bare feet pad across the ring and dip into the pool with the gentlest of splashes. He wades into the center, the water rising no higher than mid-shin, and then he opens his eyes.

Mariam had assumed it was just too dark to see his eyes, but now that they are open, she understands. He’s special.

They shimmer with the same eerie softness of a glow-in-the-dark toy. They don’t have the sharpness of oncoming headlights which force the eyes away, but instead, they draw her in. They beckon. She imagines seeing them looking down at her in the dark of a bedchamber, but she shakes the thoughts away.

He stoops and rifles beneath the water and soon comes up with a handful of rings. One by one, he squeezes them, and suddenly, they glow, too. He drops four chartreuse rings back below the water to glow at his feet but holds on to five others, though each of those are different colors.

Slowly, Mariam realizes it’s not just Kihyun’s eyes or the rings that glow. Pinpricks of light stud his body like a runway, and she can see now that, though he has arms and legs like a man, he is different—he is more. His skin is also unique. Though she can’t be sure of the exact colors, his front is definitely lighter than his back.

He wears a skintight outfit, something streamlined like a full-body swimsuit though its hard to be sure in the wan light, but now, she can clearly see the outline of sharp, articulated fins both on his forearms and his back.

Kihyun divides the rings in his hands and begins to toss them in the air until a rainbow of light streaks through the darkness. He builds speed until it seems that he’s not just juggling rings but bending light all together.

Once he’s captivated the crowd, he begins to sing. It’s not like anything Mariam has ever heard. Her heart slows. Her mind muddles. She forgets things beyond the show of light and the swirl of the melody around her. Kihyun bend a series of “oohs” and “ahs” of varying textures and power and lengths just as he bends the light—masterfully.

He spins. He pivots. He catches behind his back. Through it all, he sings.

Mariam realizes vaguely that her hips hurt where something presses unfairly against her. It’s keeping her from the ring. It’s keeping her from Kihyun. If she could tear her eyes from him, she could figure it out, but she can’t risk a second away from his incandescent frame.

The music stops, and Mariam stops, too, waiting for the next dulcet note. Abruptly, the juggler gathers all but one the rainbow rings in one hand and crouches down to the water.

He rubs the pink ring along the surface in a figure eight, and when he lifts it, it is dripping loudly in the stone silent room. He brings it up to his face, and Mariam can finally see his features clearly—his angular jaw, his strong cheekbones, his sharp eyebrows. Even the bow on his elegant lips is pointed.

He puckers those dangerous lips and blows into the center of the ring. Just like a kid’s wand, a bubble appears, but Kihyun does not easily run out of breath and the bubble stays flexible. By the time he is done, the bubble is almost as tall as he is. With a swift motion, he flicks the ring inside the bubble, and it seals behind it. The surface warbles with the pink light within, and with another gust from his lips, it sails to the ceiling above Jooheon and hangs obediently like a balloon tied off. He repeats the process with the remaining four rings until there is a watery chandelier illuminating the whole room. Mariam catches a glimpse of shimmering aqua on her own skin, hears the burble of the impossibly churning water sphere overhead, but she can't bring herself to look up—only ahead.

Kihyun stoops and scoops a cupful of water, which he then pours into his mouth. At first, she assumes it’s just a necessary part of being whatever it is he is, but then he spits a thin jet of the water into the air, only when he does, it’s colored with the same eerie blue-white light that dots his body. The stream wanes, but he replenishes it with another long draft from the cup, this time arcing the glowing water like a hula hoop as he spins. On the last drink, he blows a trio of bubbles, these ones as small as his fist but infused with the otherworldly luster. He does not pop them but casts them gingerly just above his head where they hang like a halo.

Finally, he fishes back through the water again, and this time, he brings up five already-glowing balls. These, like the rings, are clearly a prop, though half of Mariam wonders if they’re actually shimmering deep sea pearls.

Kihyun starts juggling these the same way he did the rings, establishing a familiar rhythm before picking up speed until he adds a new layer. He closes those firefly eyes and trusts in whatever senses he has left to keep the balls aloft.

Above him, the little bubble crown illuminates his wet black hair, which undulates back from his face as though caught in an unseen current. It is as mesmerizing as the blender-like rhythm the balls seem to be caught in between his dexterous hands.

Sing.

Please sing.

Please.

Mariam thinks she’s said that in her head, but the whispers hit her ear, and she realizes she hasn’t.

The man with the scales encroaches at the edge of her vision, and it’s a crude reminder that there are others in the room beside the luminescent Kihyun.

As though he’s heard her, the juggler opens that exceptional mouth, and more notes pour out, and though there’s no eerie blue light to accompany them, they’re brilliant all the same. Kihyun has a way of singing that sounds as though they’re all underwater.

None of the balls waver even for a second. His unswerving confidence that he will never let them drop is almost as mesmerizing as his unearthly voice.

Again, Mariam feels that pressure across her hips, and it’s becoming more insistent by the second.

She should be in the ring by now. She needs to be. She might go insane if she’s not.

A whistle pierces the air, and Kihyun stops singing. The balls fall together in a discordant splash, and quick as the death worm’s lightning, the juggler raises his arm, forearms out and fins in a full mast. From the tips of those articulations, he shoots something too small to see in the dim light though Mariam hears the little pew-pew-pew-pew-pew as he spins in the pool.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Each massive glowing bubble explodes overhead while the rings inside fall into the hands of his fellow performers and the water rains in a much-needed cold shower over the audience. Mariam lets out a squeal as she is drenched and gulping for air against the wet chill. Goosebumps dimple her from head to toe, and she folds her arms over her chest to generate fresh heat.

The crowd is too stunned to applaud, but Kihyun doesn’t wait for it either. He exits the pool, bows to the stands, and then pads off to the back while the other performers begin the cleanup. Meanwhile, Wonho takes to the sky to buzz over the handful of audience members one by one, spinning around so his wings beat like a fan over them. He reaches Mariam last, and when he blasts her with air, she yelps and shivers, but in short order, she is dry and happy again in her flannel. He tips his impish head to her and buzzes back to help the others with the last of the preparation, and soon the ring is back as it was.

Now dry and sober, the audience remembers itself, and together, they erupt into riotous applause. Mariam tries to stand for an ovation, but then she remembers the seatbelt, and as soon as she unbuckles it, it’s like a weight is off her lap, and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so silly.

“Let him know, let him know!” cheers Jooheon as he takes center stage again. “You’ll never see another one like Kihyun, folks.”

Of that, Mariam is certain. She claps fiercer than ever even as her cheeks color at the memory of his voice.

“I’m sorry to tell you we have but two acts to go,” Jooheon laments, and Mariam laments with him. She feels the dread even before he says it. But he brightens immediately and surges forth in a sweeping circle around the room. “But the good news is they will both delight, confound, and astound you.

“First up, from far across the seas, on an untamed mountain, comes a beautiful and elusive man who both defies your notice but also demands it. Don’t let the sweet face fool you, he is wild and unpredictable and harbors a true hunger for adventure. Prepare to thrill as he risks life and limb to take you to the edge like never before! I present to you… Hyungwon!”

The spotlight centers in the ring, but no one is there and no one emerges from the back either.

“Hyungwon!” Jooheon repeats just as dramatically, but no one appears. Eyes start darting around the room, so, too, do whispers break out. The man in the crimson coat looks back to the entrance. “Hyungwon?”

The ringmaster looks a little nervous, those robust lips pulled tight as he paces the ring edge. He clears his throat.

“My apologies, esteemed guests. Hyungwon is supposed to be nocturnal, but sometimes he drifts off. Just a minute, and we'll get on with the show.”

Mariam sees Wonho darting back behind the curtains while, in the deep shadows at the edge of the ring, she spies the mysterious Kihyun with his arms stacked over his chest as he shakes his head. It's just starting to get uncomfortable, and they're all at the edge of their seats.

“Where is he?” Mariam whispers.

“Boo,” comes a totally different whisper along with a puff of hot breath beside her ear.

Mariam yells and instantly clamps her hand over her mouth as she jukes to the side in time to catch the luminous round face of the man with the scales.

All eyes as well as a spotlight turn to the VIP box to find Hyungwon with this face beside hers, flaunting a toothy grin and cheeks like doorbells begging to be pressed. His laugh is airy and infectious, childlike even, and though he has startled a year of her life from her, Mariam is laughing, too, even as her hand clutches her heart in hopes of slowing it.

How long had he been there without her knowing?

As her pulse slows, she closes her eyes, and when she opens them, he is nowhere to be seen.

Mariam swivels around like a dope, but the new performer has vanished. A few other crowd members laugh, but the patchy lizard man with the long tongue is outright cackling and applauding louder than anyone as though he understands the joke better than the rest of them can.

Jooheon, Wonho, and Kihyun are all laughing, too, so Mariam has to assume this is all part of the man's grand entrance.

And grand it is! Now when the spotlight centers in the ring, Hyungwon strolls into it. He is sporting a pair of leather pants but nothing else, not even shoes, and she can see it's not just his hands and neck and face covered in those scales but his whole body. Like the rest of his features, they are delicate and captivating, almost like glitter sewn directly onto his skin. He throws his arms wide, and she is dazzled by more than just his unique features. He is lean and sinewy with a tiny waist and shoulders as broad as a door.

Colors and shapes dance across his scales in seemingly impossible patterns; even his hair shifts like fiber optics. She recognizes many of the patterns: the tent stripes or the ring floor or the Amorak’s fur; for a moment, he even glows like Kihyun’s strange luminescence. His visual display morphs into a splash of crimson in the exact shape and design of the ringmaster’s coat, which makes Jooheon beam and clap enthusiastically. Hyungwon concludes with the most shocking display of all—he nearly disappears from plain sight by copying the patterns of the backgrounds on all sides.

But then something occurs to Mariam. Hyungwon is almost totally invisible thanks to his camouflage, but the leather cannot follow suit so it looks like a pair of pants floating in the middle of the ring. When he’d been right beside her though, there’d been nothing—not even pants. Shock and more than a little embarrassment grip her body, and she swears the performer knows because he turns to her right then with a very troublesome smile.

Mariam has been so busy being awestruck by their performances that it hasn’t occurred to her to consider how much of them is human when so many parts of them clearly are not. But now the rabbit is out of the hat and she's chasing helplessly after it, wondering what kind of lovers such spectacular beings would be. That's not a thing she should be thinking about looking at a chameleon man, especially because she is a conservative person—she has been her whole life. But sometimes she has thoughts… fantasies. Sometimes she has unusual dreams. There was one in particular she’s often thought of since, in her moments of weakness, but what was it again?

She's so far gone in the illicit thoughts that she nearly falls out of her seat when a motorcycle above her roars. She looks up, and there is Hyungwon at the peak of tent on a platform much higher than the one Wonho had risked. She doesn’t remember the motorcycle there, but it must have been. It sits anchored at the edge of the platform. It has no tires, just rims resting on top of a wire, and though there is a ring securing the machine to the wire, it won’t keep it upright. Beneath it is a perch as a counterbalance, and, of all things, one of the perytons sits on it. Its clawed back feet cling like a bird on a wire.

Hyungwon sits astride the motorcycle, now clad in a black leather vest and a pair of boots. As a whimsical note, some of the scales across his face have blackened into a sunglasses shape. He isn’t tethered to anything, and Mariam can see between his slight twitches and the peryton’s, they are working together to keep themselves upright on the wire.

The engine revs again, and Jooheon raises his hands to incite the crowd. Everyone whoops and cheers, including Mariam, and then Hyungwon zooms ahead.

The bike zips up the slight incline to the other end, where he lets off the gas, and the unlikely pair drifts backwards smooth as a sled riding down a snowy hill. Once they’re back at the bottom, Hyungwon surges ahead again, but he slows when they reach the middle of the line. He cuts the engine, and instead, the room fills with the ping-ping of the wire bobbing under the weight.

Below, the peryton wobbles and tips backwards, clinging to the rail with its claws as it hangs upside down and spreads its wings. Once it’s at full breadth, Hyungwon stands on the footpegs and slowly—tremulously, steps both feet onto the seat before propping one on the handlebars. He, too, spreads his muscled arms, and as the motorcycle glides backward down the slope, little bursts of yellow, like tiny supernovas, fire across his skin. Feathers whisper in the breeze before the crowd roars with the showcase.

Mariam’s heart is in her throat, so big she practically chokes on it. Her skin pebbles with fresh goosebumps because the pair isn’t slowing. In fact, the motorcycle is picking up speed as it glides.

Before they can crash back into the platform, Hyungwon slides back onto the seat and revs the engine again. The peryton swings back upright, and the rider tosses down some dark and messy treat to his passenger.

Mariam assumes it’s over, but then the bike sails even faster up to the peak, and this time when they brake at the top, the peryton rocks side-to-side, and just like that, the motorcycle loops like a propeller around and around the wire.

She screams. So does someone else. Both rider and passenger are completely unbothered.

They whirl backwards down the wire, and it almost makes Mariam sick to watch the spinning. Even worse, as has been happening all night, she thinks again on things she shouldn’t. She thinks on how strong his thighs have to be to hold onto that bike, and she finds herself clenching hers just as hard.

Just as they get to the platform, the peryton startles and takes flight, which immediately flips the motorcycle. Hyungwon plunges from his seat several stories above the floor. Screams ring out all around the canopy.

But not Mariam. She can’t scream. This time, she’s too paralyzed with terror.

This is it. This is going to be the show where something goes horribly, terribly wrong, and as much as she had already been changed by tonight’s performances, this will ruin her.

She feels sick.

Hyungwon’s halfway to his surefire death when the winged creature swoops down casual as can be and grabs his outstretched wrist with its back claw. He drifts like Alice falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland onto yet another motorcycle that Mariam never even saw waiting for him in the ring.

Relief washes through her, and she realizes that over the course of however long she’s been sitting here, she has formed some kind of unnatural bond with the performers. She thinks of them not just as acrobats or athletes but as friends—or, maybe, more disturbingly, something more. Just the notion of them getting hurt tightens every muscle in her body like a winch.

But no one else seems nearly as bothered by the daring risks they’ve just witnessed. As the crowd leaps to its feet, Hyungwon waves and circles the ring on the bike a few times. With a rev of his engine and one final wheelie, he speeds to the back with the peryton in tow.

Jooheon makes his way to ring center as usual, and he’s cheering just as much as the audience. That infectious smile of his stirs the crowd as much as it stirs Mariam’s heart with gratitude.

“How about that, dear guests? I think I can boast with total confidence that that was yet another act such as you have never seen! Another round of applause for Hyungwon and Dyani. Let them hear you.”

The audience doesn’t disappoint. With each act, they’ve gotten more and more comfortable and more and more awestruck. It’s beginning to feel like an impossible ask to ever leave this big top. Yet, Jooheon’s next words send a chill through Mariam’s bones.

“As always, we close our show with the most dynamic performance of all. As you have learned by now, nothing about Le Cirque du Fantasme is traditional, so it must hold true that neither are our clowns. Not only will they take to the skies tonight, but they will take you to new heights with them. Be dazzled as fire and ice harmonize in ways you never thought possible, and, above all, expect the unexpected. Presenting The Flying Fools, Minhyuk and Changkyun!”

The ringmaster steps to the side as the final two performers enter the room.

They move in perfect unison, but that’s where the similarities end. The taller one, with hair like candle flames, presents in vivid detail. His face is shaped like a flame, too, with all the same flickering dimension and undulating contours. His skin is bright and brilliant like his smile only with a sheen to it, and when he spins in the lights, Mariam realizes it’s like a cast of gold dust upon him. She’s not sure if that’s stage makeup or if that’s just part of who he is, but considering his counterpart, it seems like the latter.

The shorter one has hair like snowflake filaments, each strand almost crystalline yet without being actually frozen. Even the cool way he strolls feels like a breeze across damp skin. Though his lines are sharp, borderline cutting, when he steps in the light, Mariam swears she can see through him. He’s sleek when he moves; every line and twitch has a purpose. It’s as though he is untethered and untouchable by everything. It’s almost as though his feet aren’t even touching the floor. She might think he’s a ghost if everyone else weren’t seeing the same thing.

With a pair of synchronized bows, the performers greet their audience silently just as the others did, saving all the talking for their ringmaster. Instead, they start their act with a series of incredible one-upsmanship. The redhead conjures fire in his palm, which the blue-haired man snuffs with a flick of his wrist. In retaliation, he then creates three snowballs of varying sizes into a very sweet but very humble snowman, and the redhead returns the favor by lobbing a fireball under his knee with the unforgiving precision of a meteor. The poor snowman explodes and melts into a puddle while the crowd chuckles.

They make faces at one another as they hurry to build their next assault. One constructs a basketball-sized snowball to the other’s fireball, and with a war cry like two brothers squaring up, they throw at each other. If either is off-target, Mariam will be buried in snow and the other side of the ring will be engulfed in flame, but their aim is true, and the two balls collide with a hiss like punching a hill of sand.

As they mock-squabble, a bar lowers from the ceiling, one side featuring a ring dangling from a chain and the other side featuring willowy baby blue ribbons fluttering as they descend. The two performers continue silently bickering as the redhead climbs into his ring and takes a seat and the blue-haired man winds his foot intricately through one ribbon while he scales the silks.

Once their eyelines are even, the bar raises, and now, the two men soar over center stage a few stories up. Closer to the spotlights, the redhead glitters like a disco ball while, at precisely the right moment, the light pierces the blue-haired man, like sun through a blanket of clouds, and shines down on the ringmaster’s grin.

As the pair reach their pinnacle, they play—not just off of the instruments but each other. It’s organized chaos. The man in the ring rocks like a monkey on a swing, his feet kicking and lifting. At first, it’s art, but then it’s clear his true intent is to toy with his friend. He drops. He swings. He pushes off of his friend’s back like a swimmer off the pool wall.

While the man in the ring flips and threads through his hoop, the man in the straps flies beside him. Thanks to the push, physics draws them back together until they’re rebounding off each other like a Newton’s cradle. Both of them are light and slender, but their sinew flexes with each choreographed move.

Watching them somehow makes Mariam feel strangely feminine, which isn’t something she usually thinks much about. Between work and TV and sleep, she doesn’t spend much time on herself. Carmel is a hamlet, too far removed from the City for the Big Apple to tempt her and too insular to attract outsiders except for the accidental stranger passing through. She doesn’t have to doll herself up because there’s no one in town left to impress, but as the dexterous duo wheels above to a chorus of ruffling silk and clanking chains, she feels soft, pliable even. She wishes she’d had time to change out of her shift clothes or apply some lip gloss. Watching them perform makes her yearn to impress them the way they’ve all impressed her.

Her eyelids droop.

They’re so beautiful. They sail as though the ribbons and chains are merely there for decoration, as though the sky would be their playground with or without them. They might be aiming to make everyone laugh, but Mariam sees beyond that. It’s their artistry she’s swept up in—the way they flick not just their wrists but echo the motion straight through to their fingertips, the way they use every part of their body to sell a complete experience, the way their no doubt countless hours of rehearsal ensures their whimsy looks as effortless as it does unstudied.

The blue-haired man chokes up on one silk as he releases the other and wraps his foot in the chiffon. He spins. He twirls. He sails by his wrist. The ribbon fans like a cape beneath him.

But when he swings too close to his fellow performer, the redhead shoves him playfully out into space to send the blue-haired man arcing over the audience to a chorus of “oohs” and “ahs”. Seeking his revenge, the aerialist slips down the fabric to angle himself like a bullet with an aim for his fellow performer.

At the last moment, the man in the ring latches on to his friend’s wrist, and together, ring and ribbon twine through the air. They circle together before they push apart and rotate like two bodies caught in each other’s orbit. It’s beautiful. It’s hypnotic.

Mariam can’t get them out of her head. Of all the things she’s seen tonight, they ensorcel her every sense. They’re two fools bickering like brothers, but without the bounds of gravity, their playfulness becomes aerial ballet. She wants to be part of the fun.

The redhead climbs on top of his hoop, legs splayed around the supporting chain, and reaches for the chiffon. While he goes high, the blue-haired man goes low, grasping the ring. He looks up at his brother-in-air and pokes his tongue wickedly at the corner of his mouth.

The next thing Mariam knows, the hoop is white with frost, and with a yank, the blue-haired aerialist shatters the ring beneath the redhead’s legs. Frozen metal tinkles to the floor. The redhead grips his chain tighter now, but there’s vengeance in those calculating eyes, and he spins so fast, he looks like a tornado of fire.

His hand lashes out.

He grabs the ribbon supporting his friend’s foot.

Flame marches up and down the chiffon, and the blue-haired man barely has time to unwind his foot and leap to the second silk before the other ribbon is engulfed. It untethers at the loop above and drifts to the floor like a snake made of fire to coil messily beside the shattered hoop.

Both men hang by one hand. The set piece begins to lower, but their rivalry does not slow. Their feet bicycle as they kick each other like toddler brothers, and the room reverberates with laughter. They collide only to push off each other’s thighs, and when they swing back, their arms are outstretched—not for each other but for their opponent’s supports.

The pair stills in the air.

The redhead grips the silk above his friend’s hand, who also has hold of the chain now.

They look each other in the eyes, each confident they have the upper hand.

Chain crackles like a sheet of ice. Fire ignites like a burner.

Their eyes widen. Their cocky grins falter.

They fall.

The pair thunders to the floor, each landing on his own feet thanks to their cleverly choreographed descent. And then they descend into a playground slap fight like the fools they’re promoted to be, which sends Jooheon skittering to center ring to break it up.

The tent is shaking with the crowd’s laughter and applause. Mariam is already on her feet and whooping at the top of her lungs like she’s never done before.

Jooheon raises the redhead’s arm by the wrist and champions, “Minhyuk!”

He does the same to the blue-haired man next as he yells, “Changkyun!”

The crowd somehow gets louder.

“One more time, my friends, for all our distinguished performers!”

Out of the back comes the rest of the circus, including the Amorak and the perytons but thankfully no death worm. Together, everyone fills the ring, the ringmaster front and center. They bow in unison, even the animals, and when they rise, Mariam thinks it’s simultaneously the most ridiculous and most wonderful family she’s ever seen.

The crowd doesn’t seem to take a breath in its cheers. The stands might not be anywhere near packed, but no one would be able to tell because the heartfelt screams—and a couple of animalistic roars, she notes—fill the canvas to the brim.

Jooheon couldn’t look prouder. His dimples have never been deeper. His eyes are little arches. His pearly teeth glimmer. He glows not from the spotlights but from the praise.

“Thank you all for coming! From all of us at Le Cirque du Fantasme, you’ve been a terrific audience, and should our paths chance to meet again someday, we hope you’ll return for another round of unparalleled fantasies. Get home safely, everyone!”

The cheering continues even as the performers head backstage, and once they’re all gone, the guests begin to filter out, each murmuring to the other strangers. It’s clearer now that the lights have come up that the denizens of the big top couldn’t be more different. As far as Mariam can tell, she’s the only obvious human.

She lingers in the VIP box. She’s probably supposed to leave—it’s clear from Jooheon’s well-wishes that they’re all supposed to—and while she’s not afraid of the strange folk after such a show, she just doesn’t want to go.

She’s changed.

She’s not the same Mariam she was when she walked through those striped flaps. How can she go back to her boring, conservative, empty life knowing all that truly surrounds her? It’s like discovering that the world she always thought was flat has a third dimension.

The big top is empty now except for spilled cartons and other litter. Humongous paw prints dapple the dusty ring floor. Motes of dust drift through the beams of light, past the gently swaying extra cache of rings, ropes, and ribbons above.

With a deep, shaking sigh, Mariam resigns herself to her fate. Just as her hand lands on the swinging door to the box seats, the backstage curtains fling open, and the redhead, Minhyuk, and his blue-haired partner, Changkyun, enter.

“Finally!” exclaims Minhyuk in an exuberant voice. “Showtime is always the hardest when you can't open your mouth.”

“I think you’re the only one who suffers on that point,” Changkyun retorts in a much gravellier tone.

The pair take to sweeping up their torched and shattered mess as though they don't even realize they still have an audience, the redhead gabbing away to make up for lost time.

Mariam doesn’t say anything. She’s sure she’s not supposed to be here, and she worries they’ll ban her from ever coming back—not that she’s sure exactly where she is or how she got here. She ducks down a little before she catches herself in her own stupidity. There’s nowhere to hide.

Should she apologize? Hurry out? She could just tell them that their rhythmic aerial battling has stirred things in her that she never thought she’d feel, but that’s probably stupider than trying to hide.

The last act is still emblazoned in her mind when the ringmaster abruptly appears from the back. While the other two men work around the tent, he heads directly toward Mariam as though he never expected her to leave in the first place.

“Well, my dear, what did you think of the show?”

His lips look even fuller and juicier somehow. She’s drunk just on the way they purse and pucker.

“Unbelievable,” she breathes. “I don’t even know what to say about it.”

“And how has VIP been so far?”

Mariam cocks her head to the side. “So far?”

“Did you think your experience ended with the show?”

“Well, yeah.”

Jooheon chuckles. “For the pretty maid in the front row, I offer a truly once-in-a-lifetime upgrade free of charge.”

“What kind of upgrade?”

“Only the most exclusive kind. We’re going to custom build you a dream, my dear.”

Mariam squints. “I thought the circus was the new dream?”

“Well, thank you, but you forget that we took your best dream ever.”

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a blush and a scuff of her boot on the floor. She's getting a strange feeling from his burrowing gaze that she's missing something more important than she’s realized. “But since I don't remember what it is, how do I know you haven't already exceeded it? Tonight was amazing.”

“Trust me, we haven't traded in fair yet. We can do better because… it’s important to me that you remember tonight—and me—forever.” Jooheon smiles at her then, but it’s different than those other flamboyant smiles. This one is gentle and sincere.

“There’s no way I could forget,” she admits shyly.

He looks dubious, but he nods and offers his hand as he opens the VIP box door, too. “Let me see to it then.”

The moment Mariam’s hand slips into his, the ringmaster’s demeanor changes. He’s been the consummate showman all night, but he’s narrowed that influence of his tremendous power to her and her alone. The big top hasn’t changed, but as he leads her to the center of the ring, it’s all much more intimate now.

Jooheon squares up to her and smiles, this time with the faintest hint of a lip bite. His thumbs rub reassuringly over the back of her hands as he takes one step closer.

“We're going to make you the star of our show.”

#monsta x smut #le cirque du fantasme #october vibes #jooheon smut #minhyuk smut #changkyun smut #third person #trilogy

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dxndjxrin · 2 years

Text

Monsta X headcanon: how they’d eat you out

Hello y’all! I don’t really post writing on tumblr but I thought hey! Why not! This idea was inspired by my dear @subbysoob’s BTS one. So go check theirs out!! Find me @sagebrush on AO3 to check out my other works if you liked this one <3

Ateez version

Nct 127 version

SVT, performance unit version

NSFW under the cut. 18+ only!

Shownu: definitely more as foreplay for actual sex. If he’s eating you out it’s because he can and wants to take his time with you. Hyunwoo in general is just so attentive. He knows all your nonverbal cues that will steer him in the right direction of how you want it. It’s sensual, it’s loving, it’s giving. Also his plush ass lips Jesus Christ

Wonho: uses his strength because of course he does. He’s fully got you pinned down, you can barely writhe under his tongue because he’s got an iron grip on your hips. Attentive like Shownu though, sensual with a beautiful touch of tease. If you sit on his face, it’s less sitting and more he’s holding up your entire weight because your legs gave out.

Minhyuk: Mf a nasty freak. Probably likes you to sit on his face just to suffocate in you, be surrounded in you. Will dirty talk the shit out of you. It’s MESSy and loud and crazy but goddamn is it good. Definitely enjoys it himself as well.

Kihyun: mean mean MEAN but in the direction of overstimulation. He will go ham and just keep going and keep going. Those lungs can hold his breath for a long time while he’s burying his face in between your legs. Loves the absolute power trip of seeing you so fucked out, legs shaking in his hold. God tier aftercare tho, like a switch being flipped

Hyungwon: the only way this mf eating ur pussy is if ur sitting on his face. Lil pillow prince ass likes to lounge while making you fall apart. He also kinda likes being able to show off his hard work in the gym when he has to hold you up.

Jooheon: embodiment of that “u need head?”Audio. Will offer it at ANY time ANY way you want it. I’d say out of all of the members he derives the most pleasure from directly eating you out. There’s just something so…perfect about the way you taste and the sounds he can get to come out of you that drives him insane.

Changkyun: mean but in the opposite direction than kihyun. Instead of overstim, this man WILL edge you till you cry. He loves seeing how desperate you can get for him, how you beg, how you trust him enough to put your own pleasure in his complete control. Is also mouthy; the dirty talk just keeps coming. Doesn’t necessarily derive pleasure from directly eating you out, but the power/trust stuff that goes with it.

Divider by @cafekitsune

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bteezxyewriter12 · 1 year

Text

Truth or Dare/ 2

Pairing- Minhyuk x Named Reader

Word count- 2.8k

Includes- morning sex, blow job, cum eating, cock rubbing?, riding, missionary, squirting, multiple orgasms, fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxxmine @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa @itsshaydeekaydee @seokwoosmole @wisejudgedragonhairdo @seonghwasstar @kpop-bambi @meowmeowminnie

Masterlists- check out for more fics 📝Masterlists 📝MONSTA X Masterlist

J POV

Waking up, I keep my eyes closed, feeling the neck of someone against my face

Still, I'm not ready to get up yet

Instead, I cuddle into whoever I'm sleeping with more, feeling their arm around me and their soft skin under my body

They feel good and I'm lulled back to sleep

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

I wake up again, still in the arms of some one

But this time I feel something poking my thigh

Opening my eyes, I move my head back, Minhyuk's sleeping face coming into my vision

What the fuck?

Moving my eyes down, I realize I'm naked from the waist down

And he's naked from the waist down

If he's naked then that means what's poking me is...his hard dick

Oh my fuck

What the hell is going on?

Last night comes back to me and I remember that I fucked my best friend

And it was amazing

He ate me out so fucking skillfully, his dick felt so good and he made me squirt

I've never squirted before

And I did this in front of the guys and their friends

Fuck

I never had one singular thought of Minhyuk in a sexual way

Never

But god, he was literally the best fuck I ever had

It's fucking with me right now

Because as I feel his cock poking me, remembering last night, I'm getting horny

And I want to fuck my best friend again

"Hyukie", I murmur, softly shaking his arm, "Hyukie"

"Mmmm", he whines, his arm tightening around me, holding me closer to him

His skin feels amazing against me, so soft and so pretty

"Hyuk", I say a little louder

"Yeah?", he mutters, his eyes slowly opening

His eyes focus on me and they widen so big

"Jo? What the...", he gapes, letting me go, moving back from me

"It's ok Hyuk"

"Where are your pants? Why are you in my bed....oh shit", he says as realization forms on his face

His eyes move down to his hard dick, his face turning red

"Shit", he gasps, putting his hand over himself

Like that's gonna hide his monster cock

"I'm sorry", he says, his eyes anywhere but on me

I slowly move my hand to his, pushing his hand off him, then wrap my hand around his dick

His eyes meet mine in confusion

"Want you again", I whisper, hoping he doesn't reject me

Last night everything he did was a dare

I think he just got into it, saw free sex and took it

Me on the other hand, after the first orgasm he gave me, I wanted everything we did

I wanted him

And I want him right now too

"Really?", he asks, surprised

I nod, moving my hand up and down his length, slowly

"Do you-", I start but stop when he nods

"Want you too"

I give him a small smile as I nod

I slowly push him onto his back, moving down his body until I'm face to face with his dick

Christ, it really is huge

And so hard

And honestly...pretty

"Jo..you don't-", he starts

"I want to", I tell him, looking up at him, "You did it for me last time and it's your turn now"

"I didn't do it to get anything back", he tells me

"I know Hyuk, but I want to. I want to make you feel good"

I really do

I don't know why I feel this way but I want to make him feel amazing

I want to hear him moan from what I'm doing to him

Before he can say anything, I stick my tongue out, slowly running my tongue up the underside of his cock

"Fuck", I hear him moan as I lick all the way up to his head, then swirl my tongue around his head, "Oh god fuck"

Pressing the flat of my tongue against his slit, I lick up his leaking cum, the taste of him so good

Jesus

"Fuck Hyukie, you taste yummy"

"Fuck Jo", he whimpers

Wrapping my mouth around his head, I suck softly, lifting my eyes to the sight of him in pleasure

He's so beautiful it's stupid

Sucking on him, I wrap my hand around the rest of him, stroking his cock up and down in time with my sucking

He's so fucking hard in my hand but his skin is so soft

I take him in my mouth more, sucking on him desperately, loving how he feels in my mouth, how he stretches my mouth like he does to my cunt

I can't help but moan as I pleasure him, liking giving him a blow job so much more than I should

His fingers run in my hair, holding on lightly for now

Every few sucks, I move down his cock, taking him in more and more

When his head pokes in my throat, I choke as my gag reflex kicks in

Still, I shove down, forcing him in my throat

I've deep throated before

It'll a bitch to get him in but once I do, I'll be ok

"Joanne oh fuck", he pants, as I get him all in, tears running down my face, "Suck on me. Please jagi, suck my cock"

I suck once, then breath through my nose, calming my throat

Starting off slow, I gradually increase my speed with each suck until I'm going at a good pace, enjoying the feeling of his heavy cock down my throat

His fingers tighten in my hair as his breathing gets harder, gorgeous sounds pouring from his mouth

Changing up the movements, I bob my head on him, bottoming his out every time, spit all over this cock and dripping from my mouth

"Oh shit, don't stop", he yells, "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum"

Hearing that, I move faster, wanting to swallow all his cum

"Joanne fuck! Oh god!"

His body shakes, cum shooting down my throat

I swallow over and over, a mix of my spit and his cum leaking from my mouth

"Oh god, swallow again", he whines and I do it for him

His thick cum falls down my throat, tasting so good

I suck him through his orgasm, keeping him as hard as he can be after coming

He softly tugs on my hair, pulling me off him, leaving him half hard

"Come here", he murmurs, pulling me up to him as I climb on him, straddling him

I reach between us, laying his cock on his stomach then sitting on the underside of his dick

"Fuck", he murmurs, his hands move up my hips, slowly moving up and taking my shirt with it

"Off baby", he whispers

I nod, helping him by taking the shirt off

He pulls my arms, crashing my body on top of his, undoing my bra

"Up baby"

I sit up again as he takes off my bra, tossing it to the floor

"Holy shit", he gapes, his eyes starting from my pussy, stopping on my boobs where they widen, then to my face

As his eyes move back down, I blush hard, my hands moving to cover my boobs

"No", he says softly, pulling my arms down, "Don't hide jagi. You're so fucking beautiful"

His big hands move from my hips, slowly trailing up, his touch lighting every nerve on fire, my skin trembling

"My god you're perfect", he murmurs and I'm shocked to hell hearing him

Never thought I'd ever hear that from Minhyuk

His hands squeeze my boobs, fingers running over my nipples

Pleasure run up my spine as I moan softly

"Fuck, you just soaked my dick", he groans, "Feels good?"

I nod

It feels better than good

He pinches my nipple, rolling them between his fingers and my hips move involuntarily, sliding on his dick

"Yeah baby, do it again", he murmurs

I move along his length again, his cock harder than before

"Keep going. Until you cum", he urges

I nod, moving my hands to his chest to lean on him, moving my hips fast

Pleasure blasts in my body, my fingers twisting in his shirt

"Good girl", he praises, "Faster"

My speed increase, my clit rubbing against the under side of his head

"Fuck", I shout, intense pleasure making my legs shake

Shortening my sliding, I press my clit down on his head, rubbing right against that spot

"Oh my god, Hyukie", I cry, my eyes closing in bliss

"Fuck, such a good girl", he moans, "So fucking wet for me"

"I can't", I babble, "Too good, I can't"

My head is cloudy with pleasure and I can't make sense when I speak

"Cum for me", he asks, "You can cum on my dick baby. It's ok"

Sliding again, my clit hits that spot on his head and I yell his name, my body shaking in pleasure when I cum

My god it's incredible

"Yes yes yes", he cries, "Put me in your pussy. Fuck please jagi. I need you wrapped around me"

My legs shaking, I slip up to his tip, getting his head in my hole and shoving myself down his fat cock

"Oh fuck yes", I yell when I bottom him out, immediately circling my hips to rub my spot on his tip

"Oh fuck! Tight", he gasps, "Tiny tight pussy. Fucking takes me so well"

I nod, bunching his shirt up, desperate to get it off him

With some maneuvering, I pull it over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room

Looking down at him, my brain temporarily shuts off as I take in the sight of him

Broad shoulders, muscular chest and fuck me he has abs

Why didn't I know he had abs?

"Fuck Hyuk, you're fucking hot", I gape, running my fingers over his hard ab muscles, "So beautiful"

I realize what I'm saying and I feel my cheeks heat up

One of his hands takes mine, holding tightly, "Not as beautiful as you jagi"

I smile softly at him, him smiling back and making my heart flutter

Why haven't I noticed how gorgeous his smile is?

And why the fuck is it affecting me like this?

"Ride me?", he asks softly, snapping me out of my thoughts

I nod, immediately starting to bounce on him

The feel of his cock sliding in, pushing me open sends pleasure washing over me

Wanting to keep feeling the bliss he's giving me, I move faster, loving how his cock splits me open, how hard he is, how I spasm around him

"Fuck baby, so good", he praises, " Faster. Ride me hard"

I lean on his abs, fingers digging in his skin as I move my hips in a circle as I wiggle down his cock each time I bottom him out

His head hits my spot and I can't stop the shaking my body is doing

It just feels so amazing like no one else has ever made me feel

Just him

I'm so wet, his cock just making me wetter with each bounce, his lap soaked

"Fuck jagi, you're so fucking stunning on my cock", he murmurs, his hands gripping my hips hard, "And you're pussy looks perfect wrapped around me. Opening just for me"

I nod, repeating, "Just for you"

The pleasure is turning my brain off and all I want is to feel his cock inside me

I yell in bliss as his fingers play with my clit as I slam down on him

"Cum for my cock", he urges, "You're so pretty when you cum, I need to see it again"

He will, I'm so close, desperately clenching his cock as hard as I can

"Cream my cock jagi and I promise I'll fuck you so hard right after. Do it for me"

His head hits my spot so hard stars blast in my vision just as his finger flicks my clit and I tumble head first into amazing pleasure

"Minhyuk!", I scream, wave after wave of bliss slamming my body as I explode on him

"Yes fuck. Keep going. Fuck feels amazing baby", he cries

I don't think I could stop coming nor do I want to

I vaguely feel my body moving and when I come back from the mind altering orgasm, I register that Minhyuk is on top of me, fucking into me hard

"Gonna split this pussy open", he growls, his hands on either side of my head, "Keep you impaled on my cock until you cum again and again"

I can't form words as I ride the ecstacy he's giving me

I had no clue my best friend was this wild in bed

"Fuck do you hear how loud your pussy is?"

My brain registers the loud squelching sound his cock is making every time he enters me mixing with the sound of our skin hitting each others

"Do you hear it?"

I nod, moaning softly

"This pussy loves my cock so much, loves creaming on me, doesn't it?"

"Yes", I whimper, his slams so hard, I'm moving up the bed with each thrust, his tip moving right into my spot each time

I don't think I've even been in this much pleasure before

It's like my body doesn't know what to do with it all besides take the pounding he's giving me

"Do you hear me?", he asks, grabbing my chin, moving my face to his

I realize just now he's talking to me

"I...I...", I babble, my body arching into his, my orgasm right there

"I said squirt on my cock now!", he demands, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, "Soak my cock. Soak my bed. Now!"

He thrust so hard, sending me right into an orgasm so intense, I can't make any sounds

At least I think I'm not

My fingers hurt and I don't know why, all I know is that his cock feels so incredible as he fucks me through the bliss

When I come out of it, I ask, "Ddd..did...did...I.."

"You squirted", he smirks, pushing my sweaty hair from my face, "Good girl"

I smile weakly

"One more then I'm gonna cum inside you"

"Hyukie", I whine, not sure I can handle another orgasm of this intensity

"One more. Then you can take a nap ok?"

A nap sounds nice even though I just woke up

I feel him caressing my cheek softly, as he asks "Baby?"

"Yeah baby", I answer, "One more"

He nods, hooking his arms under my knees and pushing them to my chest

I move my hands from his sheets and I realize that my fingers were hurting because I was clenching the sheets so tightly

Shiver run up my spine when his mouth wraps around my nipple, sucking as he thrusts in my cunt

Shaking under him, I take his cock, take the pleasure, wanting to feel him cum inside me

God I want that so much

He buries in me over and over and it doesn't take long before I'm there again

How I don't know

I shouldn't have gotten so close so fast but fuck he's talented with his dick

"Make a mess on my cock", he whispers around my nipple and I lose it

Clenching down hard, I climax and immediately feel his dick throb inside me, releasing his cum

"Joanne", he moans, his hands gripping my skin hard, his warm sticky cum filling me perfectly

My god I love that feeling

"Yeah baby, milk my cock", he pleads as I do just that

I don't think I could stop throbbing on him if I tried

I watch the beauty that is him orgasming and weird feelings flutter in my chest

Feelings of wanting to be his, wanting to kiss him floating through me

It's just because we had sex, I assure myself, pushing the thoughts out of my head

He pulls out when he finishes, collapsing next to me as I close my eyes, feeling his cum leaking out of me

And surprisingly loving it

I'm so weird

I suck in breath after breath, so fucking hot and sweaty

And exhausted

When I feel his fingers running through my hair, I open my eyes to his beautiful face

He smiles softly, "Wanna nap?"

I nod, "Only if you stay with me"

His eyebrow raises, "You want that?"

I nod

I can't think of anything better that cuddling with him again

"Please?"

"Alright", he answers, laying next to me

It's not enough

"Hold me", I murmur, my heavy eyes closing

I feel him take me in his arms and I turn my body to him, burying my face in his neck and smelling the comforting scent that is only Minhyuk

I'm very aware that we fit together perfectly and that I feel so safe in his arms

I don't know what that's about and I don't want to think about it right now

I just want to sleep

His fingers move in my hair, playing gently and I let the good feeling lull me to sleep

#lee minhyuk smut #minhyuk smut #minhyuk fanfic #monsta x minhyuk #monsta x fanfic #monsta x smut

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jeonghansbunny · 8 months

Text

Minhyuk's a menace | Drabble

Rating: 18+ | Read at your own discretion

Content warnings: dom/sub, manhandling, crying, unprotected sex, creampie. Please keep in mind that I wrote this with the idea that everything is consensual!

I want Minhyuks enormous hand to hold the back of my neck while the other one is wrapped around my waist. Holding me slightly above the bed and making me grind on his cock because he refuses to move. He wants to desperately see me fuck myself on his cock. Taking in every shaky breath and every moan I let out. Encouraging me and telling me I'm doing such a good job while I'm begging him with tears in my eyes to fuck me. Telling me I'm almost there and laughing at my pathetic whines while I shake and cum all over his cock. I want him to kiss my forehead and my tears while he lays me on the bed. I want him to engulf me with his body, one hand resting on top of my head while the other one is still holding the back of my neck. Pounding into me for what feels like hours. Overwhelmed and overstimulated I beg him to cum already and that I can't take it anymore. Only for him to tell me that he won't cum unless I wrap my legs around him...but he's not wearing a condom. So he continues to torture pound into me. Making me cum over and over again. Until my brains turn into mush and I've lost all abilities to think straight. So that when he tells me to wrap my legs around his waist, I oblige. Satisfied at my pathetic state he shoots his load inside of me and tells me I did a good job <3

#monsta x smut #minhyuk smut #monsta x imagines #monsta x reactions #monsta x scenarios #kpop smut

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kpopmultistanfanficarchive · 2 years

Text

Escapades [Minhyuk x Reader] (18+)

A/N: Seasons greetings - this is a fic that I never intended to post here. I had originally posted it anonymously on AO3 because I didn't really want my username attached to it, BUT THEN SOMEBODY STOLE MY WORK AND CLAIMED IT AS THEIR OWN AND THAT ANNOYED THE FUCK OUTTA ME.

So....here's some smut. I wrote this.

Happy reading. XD

You startled awake from your dream, huffing and puffing, arms flailing out in either direction to hoist yourself into a sitting position. Once the world came into focus around you and you had caught your breath, you realized how dry your mouth had become in the night. You reached out for the glass of water that was often waiting for you on the bedside table. You never had the forethought to leave a glass of water there for yourself, but Minhyuk had often done so after you’d woken up in a fit of coughs one night early on when you'd first begun crashing at the dorms.

You shrugged it off, sure that he’d just stayed out late after one of his broadcasts and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for yourself. You felt your way across the room in the darkness and down the hallway to the kitchen. Once you felt your feet on the cold tile of the kitchen you let out a sigh of relief, flipping on the light to find yourself a glass.

In the middle of filling your glass you heard a familiar groan from the couch, followed by the sound of tossing and turning. You turned toward the couch just in time to catch a familiar tuft of blonde hair pop into view as Minhyuk adjusted the afghan that he had wrapped tightly around his shoulders and pulled up to his neck. The throw blanket was too short and the room too cold, causing him to have curled up into a tight ball.

Your water forgotten, you turned off the sink and walked around the couch to be met with his sleeping figure. “Minhyuk-ah,” you said softly, kneeling down in front of him and pressing a kiss to his temple as his face scrunched up in displeasure. He was never one who liked to be woken up, “why didn’t you come to bed when you got home? Did we have a fight that I don’t remember?” you joked, the curve of your smile pressing against the shell of his ear.

“Mm, you were dead asleep by the time I got home,” he grumbled, reaching a limp arm over the edge of the couch to pat your hand where it lay against your thigh. “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

"But you're gonna be sore if you sleep like that all night. And I want my cuddles."

Fishing blindly with his eyes still closed, he grabbed your wrist and began to pull, wrapping an arm around your waist when he was close enough to do so. "What are you doing?" You chuckled as he dragged you down onto the couch with him, sandwiching you between the couch cushions and his frame.

"My baby wants cuddles, my baby gets cuddles," Minhyuk grumbled in reply, throwing an arm over your waist and a leg over your hips before pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Minhyuk-ah," you giggled as he rolled to bear more of his weight onto you, "you're going to kill me. I can't breathe."

He groaned in his sleep, rolling finally so that you rested almost completely on top of him. "Someone's picky."

"I am," you agreed, burrowing into the spot just under his ear and leaving kisses there, "thank you for indulging me."

And with that the two of you proceeded to doze off once again.

When you awoke a few hours later, it was to the morning sun's rays that were only just beginning to peek through the windows.

…And a rather persistent grinding motion from beneath you.

"Hey," you grumbled, giving Minhyuk's shoulder a slap as you realized what was happening, "you can at least wake me up if you're gonna hump me like a dog."

When he gave no reaction to your words you suddenly realized the situation that you had found yourself in. Quickly, you began to plot something devious. Without hesitation, you leaned forward, pressing feather-light kisses to his jaw as you ground with him in tandem.

Minhyuk let out a low groan as he came to, hands reaching blindly for your hips in order to get a better angle.

"Good morning," you whispered against his ear, licking at the shell before sucking the lobe in between your teeth causing a shutter to ripple down his spine. "Looks like somebody was having a really good dream, hm?" You asked with a wicked lilt as you met a particularly hard thrust. "You wanna tell me about it?"

"Was I…?" The words were lost in his throat, caught up in the sensation. "Fucking hell."

"You don't have to be embarrassed, baby, it's okay," you murmured into his ear, forcing him closer to the edge by the minute as he rutted against you, "Feels good, doesn't it?"

Still in the space between sleep and wakefulness, he let out a little whimper, "Mhmm."

"You think you can come just from this?" You asked softly, this time intrigued. "Gonna make a mess of yourself?"

"Mhmm," he moaned, grinding up into your clothed heat desperately.

You nodded knowingly, hovering over him as you admired the state you'd gotten him to. "That's okay. You can. Just be quiet because we don't want your boys to hear," you said, leaning closer still, launching inward for a heated kiss as you rolled against him.

He was nearing the precipice - only a moment or so from falling over the edge by the looks of him, when you leaned forward once more, all teeth and tongue as you nipped at the sensitive bend of his neck. His lips hung open in a prolonged gasp as he stiffened beneath you. With one final thrust he was emptying himself into the confines of his sweatpants.

"Holy shit," Minhyuk huffed in stunned satisfaction, trying his best to regulate his breathing as he peered up at you, his head flopping back against the couch, "uh...sorry. And...thank you?" How do you really put a button on a dry-humping session?

"Don't apologize," you murmured into his ear, grinding down once more, enjoying both the friction and the hiss it pulled out of your partner's lips, "that was super hot. We need to do that more often."

"Mm, yeah maybe," he grumbled as he blindly palmed at your thighs, still resting on either side of his waist, gripping and dragging you forward. "Come here..."

"What are you doing?" you laughed in hushed tones as he weaseled your hips closer.

"I want you to sit on my face so I can make you cum like you deserve."

"What? No, you don't have to-"

"Of course I don't have to," he whined, fingers running up and down your bare thighs as his eyes opened to find yours, "Don't make me beg."

The thought of that alone had heat unfurling throughout your body. It didn't take much convincing after that as you wiggled your way up forward, your thighs bracketing Minhyuk's head. In the next moment, he slid one bold hand forward, yanking your panties out of the way and using the fabric to drag your heat to his lips.

"Shit," you gasped, your body nearly curling in on itself as you grappled with his hair for purchase and ground forward into his mouth, finding satisfaction in his fucked out groan from below as he clung to your thighs. "God, keep going. Just like that - I-"

When the kitchen light flipped on, your brain went into panic mode. With a squeal, you detached yourself from your boyfriend, heaving the afghan (that had fallen to the floor sometime during the night) over your shoulders, trying to cover the both of you as best you could.

Peeking up over the top of the couch, your eyes landed on Kihyun, who was shuffling around the kitchen in a tired daze. "Don't mind me," he grumbled, pulling coffee, a filter, and mug from the cupboard, "I didn't see anything. As you were."

Your cheeks flamed with humiliation as you slid back down Minhyuk's body. Burying your face in his shoulder and heaving the blanket over your head, you prayed that the couch would simply open up and eat you both alive. A comforting hand landed in your hair as you groaned in embarrassment.

"What do you think the over-under is on him not mentioning this to anyone?" you asked.

"Not a chance."

"We're never gonna live this down, are we?"

"Probably not."

If you stuck around to the end, then thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. I'm currently accepting MTL and drabble requests for multiple groups, so feel free to shoot me a message!

#monsta x x reader #monsta x fanfic #minhyuk x reader #minhyuk smut #monsta x imagines #monsta x smut #i have no queue what i'm doing

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miabebe · 2 years

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Monsta X as Mafia

An insight into the Monsta X Mafiaverse.

TW - mentions of blood, violence, weapons, crime and death

| Trailer | Masterlist |

Name: Changkyun

Streetname: The Wolf, I.M

Youngest of them all but incredibly respected - his combat strategy is unparalleled.

Runs an organization called Tartarus which is a huge army of security forces who are trained for assassination and combat. (Rumour has it that he has over 2,600 men working under him.)

Tartarus has a signature way of assassination - one slit each on both wrists - it’s said that Changkyun adapted this style after his father was killed like that when he was 15.

No one other than the Syndicate knows what he looks like - true to his name, he operates from the shadows.

A quiet leader, fiercely loyal and a mystery to all - no one knows what’s going through his mind.

He never stores any information on computers and other devices - this is to make it hard to trace him or decode his strategy.

Characteristic style is to wear only black suits - ‘black hides all stains - of dirt and of blood.’

Has the largest collection of guns but doesn’t really like any of them, instead he always carries the small revolver his sister gave him – he’s an excellent marksman and is known to never miss his target.

Alcohol is his weakness - he has a taste for different kinds of liquor and spends time drinking not-so-quietly with Jooheon.

Name: Hyungwon

Streetname: The Infiltrator, H.One

A one-man army - he refuses to work with or under anyone else

Excellent hacker – he can penetrate any and all kinds of security. He knows the dark web like the back of his hand, and plays with the Stock Exchange like it’s no big deal.

His day job is as a freelance website designer, he likes to work in the comfort of his home and at his own pace and time so he’s very selective about his clients.

The Syndicate never really knows where he is or what he is up to - very less is known about his personal life and interests, he keeps pretty much to himself.

He’s tall, broad, dresses in long coats often and is incredibly good looking - women are often all over him but doesn’t really seem very interested in them, almost as if he is looking for a particular someone.

He’s known to have traveled the world and knows at least 6 languages fluently - it allows him to impersonate various identities on the dark web when he needs to.

Like Changkyun he is also very quiet, but much less brooding and can also be uncharacteristically funny.

Hyungwon, Kihyun and Minhyuk were best friends since they were children - though he seems to constantly be at war with Kihyun over his stock exchange shenanigans, he would give his life up for that man and likewise.

His weakness is designer clothing - he only wears and carries the best of brands.

Name: Kihyun

Streetname: Green Man, Ki

Currently the richest man in the Syndicate - he owns a chain of banks in the city and does money laundering for a high commission

He’s quite the workaholic - spends almost all his time in his office because he trusts very few people and prefers to do most of the work himself.

When he’s not working, he’s usually working out - loves boxing in his free time, a hobby he picked up from Jooheon.

Likes to come across as very prim - always dresses in neatly ironed shirts, glasses and with his hair smoothly gelled back but appearances can be deceiving - he is the most brutal of them all.

A meticulous, control freak and very serious about commitments - cheating him can often result in deadly consequences - he carries a cigar cutter which is often known to claim the middle fingers of his offenders.

Has a large social circle because of the nature of his work but has very few true friends, Minhyuk and Hyungwon being the top of the list.

Is often listed in magazines and papers as an influential businessmen and is also particularly well known for charity work and donations (perhaps a ruse for tax benefits)

Has been in love with an heiress since his college days and is incredibly loyal to her - he has not even looked another woman in the eye since they got together.

Has a deep interest in automobiles with an underground car park of 3 floors with the rarest and most expensive car collection.

Name: Minhyuk

Streetname: The Phantom, Gorae

Owns multiple clubs and casinos around Seoul called The Phantom’s Cavern. They are luxury hot-spots with exclusive and high-profile clients.

Offers his clubs and casinos as a prime location for drug and flesh trade - while traders pay him commission to sell in his space, customers pay his exuberant entry fees over and over again to buy their addictions - he makes money in all possible ways.

Sweet talker, knows just what to say and who to approach to keep the law away from his business.

While everyone in the Syndicate was in the Mafia because of their family, Minhyuk is the only self-made man because of his wit and risk taking ability.

Has no respect for hierarchy and will backstab anyone for his own personal gain. (The only person he respects enough is Shownu.) Often disregards the rules of the Syndicate, messing with other mafia groups, but he is incredibly adept in escaping, like a Phantom.

Despises drugs or alcohol, he says they make a man weak and unaware of what’s happening around him - he survives pretty much on Red Bull.

Stays away from violence and does not like using the gun like most of his accomplices - he does however carry a small knife for self-defence but so far, he’s not had to use it.

Has a very eccentric dressing sense - often wears flashy accessories and he loves precious metal and stones, wears rings of all sizes on his hands.

His weakness is women - known to be an absolute womanizer, very charming and flirtatious.

Name: Jooheon

Streetname: Sabertooth, Honey

Isn’t the youngest but is often treated so because his father, the KingPin, has not handed his business over to him.

Half brother of Shownu whom he loves and respects very much, despite his father having a clear preference of his older son.

Jooheon’s family is one of the few Mafia families to survive in the Wipe Out, a big police operation that happened in 2010 where most mafia groups were prosecuted and the remaining were forced underground.

Jooheon's family mass produces and distributes firearms all over Korea and the world, even to many military bases (of course, illegally).

Jooheon though has no hand in the family business and lives life like the spoilt child he is, often running into trouble with the law. He is also very addicted to online gambling and often runs into debts.

He has a bulky, muscular body that comes to his advantage when he boxes - he often participates in the fight club, at times getting very badly injured but continues to enter the ring nevertheless.

He is also famous for his gold canine, which earned him his nickname, because he often leaves a trademark bite on his opponents in a fight.

He is particularly good at chemistry and after spending much of his college days in Changkyun’s hideout, he studied and developed new kinds of drugs.

He’s an absolute romantic at heart and believes one day, he will find true love, whatever that is.

Name: Hyunwoo

Streetname: The Rook, Shownu

Older son of the Kingpin but takes his mother’s maiden surname 'Son' since he is illegitimate.

Despite his father wanting him to take over his family business, Hyunwoo believes that Jooheon is the right heir.

Only one in the Syndicate who has a son - does not wish to be leader as he wants to be there for his son in ways his father was never there for him.

Unlike the rest, he does not live in huge mansions or flaunt a luxury living, he and his family live in a simple home away from the city, no one knows why.

Owns an import and export company which transports all sorts of legal and illegal goods - Flesh trade is off limits for Hyunwoo though.

Despite not officially taking over his father’s position as KingPin, he is truly seen and respected as a leader by the rest of the Syndicate due to his calm and wise nature.

Though the word is that Kihyun is the most brutal, rumor is that should Hyunwoo really bring his violent side out, there would be annihilation, however he's never been in a conflict.

The company very quickly grew because while most had to talk or pay their away out of the hands of the law, Hyunwoo was rarely ever suspected because of his seemingly innocent nature.

Spent much of his younger days doing extortion, but after his son was born, he opened his company to stay away from danger.

Hyunwoo’s weakness is hunger - the hunger to achieve anything he wants often drives him to become agitated, and can sometimes make him lose sight and direction - if Hyunwoo wants something, then he wants it, he won’t rest till his hunger is satiated.

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iibonniee · 6 months

Text

A Quick Visit | Lee Minhyuk

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Smut, military!minhyuk

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving), angst, fluff

Rating: R

Word Count: 12k

Summary: After hearing little from her lover, he decides to give her a late-night surprise. His promise to make it up to her kept her up through the night until she could confront him in the morning.

Masterlist

It never dawned on Y/N that a lover could become a stranger just as quickly as a friend could become a stranger. Whenever distance was thrown into the mix, schedules often became too busy to keep up with simple things, such as a text back.

This fact hung heavily on Y/N’s heart as Minhyuk’s enlistment approached. Her world was suspended, dangerously swinging between past warmth and future uncertainty. The impending distance, the changing schedules, and the quiet unease that unfolded in her thoughts were a recipe for feared isolation.

Minhyuk, however, was well aware of the turbulence shaking her spirit. He could see the pain reflected in her eyes, hear the worry lacing her laughter, and sense the tension in her every touch. So, with a heart full of assurance and lips armed with loving words, he chose to bring her comfort.

“Listen,” he would gently coax, cradling her face in his steady hands, urging her eyes to lock with his. “We’ve weathered more than distance before,” he would assert, his gaze steady, voice firm yet soothing. “Our connection isn’t just measured in miles or minutes; it’s held together by something stronger, something untouchable - our love.”

His words, his steadfast belief in their unbreakable bond, were a bandage for her fears. The understanding in his eyes, his unwavering confidence in their relationship gave her a sense of peace that the tickling hands of worry struggled to displace.

She never felt wrong in her life.

As the cold dawn of Minhyuk’s enlistment day dawned, Y/N found herself standing alongside the other members of his group, their collective grief palpable in the heavy air. The sun shining above them gave her no warmth — one she needed so much but refused to offer such grace.

The stark reality of their possibly changing relationship weighed heavily on her, feeling more real and definite than any of his soothing words of assurance. Minhyuk’s farewell was marked by a kiss. Their lips met in a fragile dance, full of promise but underscored by the bitter pang of impending separation. A promise pronounced in whispers followed that emotional kiss.

“I will message and call whenever I can,” he promised, his voice as steady as the heartbeat Y/N felt against his chest. “You will be the first person to hear from me.”

He’d text and call when he could, semi-keeping to a promise he had sealed off with a kiss. Slowly, those texts and calls grew to almost nothing; his voice on the other end turned from highly expected music into hope. His silence roared louder than the busy chaos of the world and bustling city life, reminding her each day of the gaping distance between them. The absent hum of his voice in the echo of their shared home was a cruel reminder of his unkept promise.

His empty assurances seemed like beautiful lies that momentarily conjured an illusion of hope. Realization washed over her in waves, each more painful than the last. The familiar tang of disappointment filled her mouth, more bitter than any foreboding doubt she had ever held. Despite his comforting words and promises, it seemed she had misplaced her trust. It was a harsh lesson in reality, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel betrayed by the gap between Minhyuk’s words and his actions.

She tried to ignore how her heart broke when she heard of his first appearance since he enlisted. How her teary eyes that begged to burst would only lead to a shaky blur of colors on her phone screen, a nightmare unfolding in high definition. Seeing him as she did, standing in the middle of his adoring crowd, the same fans who were now privileged to his time and attention, while she, the keeper of his whispered dreams and knelt promises, was left to glean his whereabouts from impersonal news updates.

His oblivious smiles and joy were like perfectly timed daggers to her bleeding heart, each moment of rich laughter and vivid enjoyment amplifying her agony. The jarring contrast between the joyous Minhyuk in the photos and the silent Minhyuk in her messages was a brutal, unvoiced slap of betrayal.

Her hands quivered, the phone screen dancing dangerously under wet eyelashes as her promised-to-be-steadied heart clattered down an abyss, fragmenting with every bump of the descent. His absence had been a lingering wound, raw and tender. Still, his blatant disregard — veiled under joyous fancon celebrations — was an insidious poison, slowly dulling her senses until only anguish echoed in hollow places.

Each image of a laughing Minhyuk, each snippet of his well-chosen remarks were hideous amplifications of his silence towards her. The vacant space she had reserved for his communication, his comforting words had now become a desolate island of unvoiced sorrows, painfully reflecting his undelivered promises. Yet, his presence and joy elsewhere signaled that he held time — time that he chose not to share with her, time that she desperately wished to be a part of.

The added knowledge that he held free hours unspoken to her carved the wound deeper, sparking an anguish that scorched through her veins, branding her heart with the bitter aftertaste of betrayal. She had believed they shared a common longing in his silence, but he had etched a cavernous rift between them in his actions. The stark revelation shattered her hope, leaving her grappling with the shards of her trust and their shattered relationship.

That night, the moon was her helping friend. Keeping her company where her heart didn’t. Her mind was a mess of self-hatred and self-doubt mixed into one grueling nightmare that refused to let her sleep. The silence of their apartment, once filled with his laughter and murmurs of love, was now a grim orchestra of her sobs and whispered grievances. The eerie glow of the moonlight, seeping softly through the cracks of the blinds, became the sole witness of her despair, casting long, lonely shadows around the room. Another source that seemed to show her unsaid words of pity.

She contemplated calling off work, giving in to the relentless pain that coursed through her, but the thought of being alone in the apartment that echoed his absence was overwhelming. The thought of the empty silence reminded her unbearably of his quiet disregard for their shared dreams, reflecting their empty relationship.

As the dawn approached, she decided to face the world outside - not for the sake of carrying out her tasks but as a refuge from the solitude. The tiny computer screen at her desk at work was a less painful alternative to the daunting emptiness of the apartment.

Walking through the doors of her workplace, she found comfort not in the friendly greetings from her colleagues nor in the mundane tasks that filled her day but in the sheer act of survival. Each passing hour was a bitter testament to her crumbling heart bearing the weight of his betrayal, a reminder that despite the sorrowful echo in the hollow spaces of her soul, she could — and would — move on.

Her heart – the thing that had dealt the most pain – would never listen to the silly things her brain would tell her. Not even when his groupmates would message her, asking her if he stopped by to say hello and that they missed her and to never be afraid to reach out to them.

“No.” She wanted to so desperately write back. “No, he didn’t come by to see me. How does it feel knowing that he chose you guys over me? How does it feel knowing that my heart is tearing itself apart because he would rather not talk to me but would spend his free time being with you guys?”

But as much as her heart was breaking and everything inside of her was holding back, the tears that felt like one wrong push would completely throw her over the edge.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks!” That was all she messaged back before turning her phone off when she noticed her messages were still set to deliver.

Tucking the small device back into her pocket, she offered a strained smile to the coworkers passing by her desk. Every tick of the clock marked another second she was away from the eerie silence of their shared apartment. Each passing moment of the day distracted her mind just enough to keep the tears she’d been holding back from spilling over the edge.

She couldn’t help but cast furtive glances at the phone she had taken out of her pocket for momentary relief, half-dreading and half-hoping for a message from him. But with every passing hour, the anticipation dissolved into disappointment, each confirmation that he still hadn’t reached out to her stinging like a fresh cut on an old wound.

In an office filled with people, conversation, and the hum of life, her solitude never felt more profound. As the day wore on, a sense of dread seeped into her heart. It wasn't the dread of heartbreak, however, but the dread of having to return to an empty home, knowing that she'd be greeted by nothing more than the echoing silence of his absence and perhaps the bitterness along with the shadow of what used to be happiness.

As nightfall approached, she steeled herself. Bracing herself for the long night ahead, she cast one last glance at her silent phone, let out a soft sigh, and began her reluctant journey back home to the ghost of her lover.

The journey back was a blur, a haze of city lights blending with the memory of his smile. As she unlocked the door to their shared apartment, she found herself hoping against hope that he'd be there. Every creak of the wooden floor, every shadow cast by the dim hallway light, echoed a faint possibility of his presence lurking in some corner – a hush greeting, a cozy comfort.

However, the reality was rather stark. The apartment greeted her with a cold emptiness, an echoing silence that amplified the loneliness. The couch lay bereft of his rumpled form, the kitchen devoid of his lingering warmth, and the bedroom mocked her with his untouched side of the bed. She peeked into rooms filled with his absence, her expectations crumbling into an overwhelming sense of despair.

Every nook, cranny, and piece of furniture they'd picked out together now held the aftertaste of his memory. The laughter, shared dreams, and cozy movie nights hung around the apartment like ghostly shadows, a poignant contrast to the present reality. Echoes of their love story played out in painful silence as she navigated her way through the house, a creeping dread settling in her heart with every step.

She would have to face yet another night of longing, another night of silent tears, another night of yearning for a presence long gone. Another night of learning to unlove the ghost of her lover on her own. Yet, she held on, dreading the solitude but embracing it as well, because it was in this solitude that she realized her strength, found the ability to stand amidst the ruins of her heart, and still hope for a better tomorrow.

Navigating her way through the dimly lit apartment felt like exploring a forgotten, treasured moment of the past. The remnants of shared life still clung to the subtlest corners of the house – the picture frames capturing their warm smiles, the hand-picked furniture that had held their shared dreams, the cozy spots touch-marked by their settled bodies during movie nights. All were silent spectators to the drama of absence that unfolded in front of her, each object a trigger to a memory, each memory a knife twisting deeper into her heart.

Her footsteps took her to the door of an old, rarely-used room. A stab of pain hit her as she stepped inside his painting room. The scent of paint and turpentine, the hastily wiped brushes, and the blank canvas on the easel mocked her with their lifeless silence. His room, a sanctuary once filled with vibrant life and color with the mix of laughter and happy cries, was now a tangible echo of his absence. She froze, taking in all the painful details, her heart heavy with the cruel reality mirrored in the lifeless brushes and color tubes.

With a sigh, she turned away from the room, her heart aching with a longing she could no longer quench. Navigating her way through the rest of the house was a bleak journey. Hints of the love they once shared haunted her steps, whispering the past into her ears with every soft creak of the wooden floor.

Wrapped in the solitude of their shared memories, she finally climbed into bed. The room, still bearing the faint residue of his scent, enveloped her in its cold embrace. Alone in the vast expanse of the bed they once shared, she felt the full force of his absence. But amidst this profound loneliness, she found a fragment of her fading strength — a resilience defying the melancholy of the deserted space.

In the hushed serenity of the night, the soft glow of the moon cast a gentle light on her slumbering form. Still lost in her dreams, a faint trail of affectionate kisses began to awaken her from the deep realm of sleep. The delicate pecks started from the shell of her ear, feather-light as they gently traced the curve of her neck and danced down her bare back. Each slight touch, though subtle, stirred her slowly from her peaceful slumber, sparking a soft, pleasing tingle on her skin. A quiet smile graced her lips as she was softly drawn back to consciousness, the hushed whispers of the night broken only by the beat of her quickening heart — a rhythmic replacement for the silence of her once-shared apartment.

The more she was pulled from her dreams, the more aware she became. The soft kisses she had started to welcome soon had her body jerking away in panic, her heart racing as she almost allowed herself to fall victim to whoever decided to break into her home while the night was probably still young. She was more awake as the white sheets gripped her body as she scooted further from the unknown figure.

The figure was silent and hunched over. The silence that filled the room only caused her more panic as she tried to shuffle away more and more, only to be stopped the moment the figure snapped out of the shock they were in and began to blindly reach out for her.

“Relax.” The voice spoke, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer. The more she struggled, the more the figure held onto her tighter. “Baby, relax.”

His voice was a warm contrast to the hostile atmosphere, carrying a soothing yet firm tone that seeped into her panic-stricken senses. It triggered a quick flash of recognition, causing her racing heart to skip a beat. She squinted, just catching the outline of a familiar frame bathed in the weak moonlight, and the tension in her body somewhat abated.

It was him. The figure she had been dreading becoming a stranger. Suddenly, the intruder was no more. It was him — her partner, her lover — whose absence had begun redefining their shared space’s silence.

His hand was warm, and his grip was gentle yet reassuring. The circles he absently traced on her forearm coaxed soothing waves across her agitated frame. The familiar whispery rasp that her ears cherished, the same voice she hadn’t heard in weeks. It was back, drizzling over the tense room.

The fog of panic slowly lifted as the realization settled — he was home. Her heart rate decelerated, the drumming against her ribs fading to a soft thump. She felt a hint of wetness tracing the curve of her cheek — tears, relief, or pent frustrations, she couldn’t tell.

A soft sigh escaped him, the quietest apology. He still held her closer, his grasp a desperate attempt to anchor themselves against the tide of emotions threatening to unchain. Even a slight parting, and they could be swept away back into those weeks of silence.

“Welcome home…” She mumbled faintly, her voice cloaked in relief. As he muttered a quiet “sorry,” they began to mend the silence of her once lonely apartment, filling it with breaths of a shared life. She began to blink, a frown spreading across her face as she had almost wanted to attack him. As she sat there in silence, she began to scowl at the unplanned entrance her lover made.

“I missed you.” He mumbled, his lips kissing the inside of her palm. With the light from the moon, she could tell that her lover was still dressed in his military uniform, no doubt just coming from his base. “I needed to see you; I need you. Please tell me you need me too and missed me as much as I missed you.”

His words were muffled as he continued to kiss her. They were laced with desperation as he moved onto the bed. She could barely see how his eyes flicked up to meet hers, desperation mixed with his beautiful brown eyes.

“Have you been behaving?” He was quick to ask, seemingly uncaring if she had answered him or not. His fingers were quick to rip the sheet away, and a deep-throated groan emitted from his throat as he enjoyed the lack of clothes she presented for him.

His hands moved wherever they could attach, squeezing and teasing her skin as they traveled down her body - from her collarbones to her breasts, down to the curve of her hips. The touch was familiar yet different, carrying an alien edge in its urgency, sending a flurry of mixed emotions through her.

Having caught her breath, she managed to choke out a shaky “yes” while fighting a fresh wave of panic. She was no longer sure if it was fear or something else entirely - a lingering sense of longing, perhaps.

He huffed, the hint of a smile barely visible in the dim moonlight. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, sending waves of electricity down her spine. His fingers traced along the curve of her hips, the touch almost agonizingly slow. It was a reminder, a homecoming, and despite the onslaught of fear and confusion, a part of her relished it.

However, a significant part of her shivered under the unexpected strangeness of his touch. Something had changed either in him or in their once-shared intimacy. Whether it was just weeks of silence from him or how much she had missed his touch. She wasn’t sure what felt so different.

The silence that had vaguely started weaving around them was now a tangible bowl of questions and insecurities, a scenario she dreaded to unravel. Five months of almost nothing, often barely a greeting other than a simple message, and her only updates often being from social media, had her hesitating.

Her hand caught his, forcing him to halt his exploration. Even in the dim light, his eyes held her gaze, silently asking for an explanation. It was a moment of vulnerable truth they had to face now - their love, their bond kept under the magnifying glass, exposed and examined. The silent echoes of their once-shared apartment now called for answers, and she hoped they had them.

“You never told me you were coming home.” She whispered, her eyes never leaving his own as his shoulders fell in slight defeat. “You hardly message me. You never came to visit me when you were able to…”

“I wanted to surprise you,” He began, moving closer to her once more to kiss the corner of her lip, “Are you unhappy to see me, my love?” He pushed, “Have you not missed me as much as I missed you? Baby, I’m ready to explode. I need you. I’m so needy. I can’t wait. I need you. I need to be inside you. I want to taste you again. I fucking need you. Let me make up for lost time. For not visiting you when I could, please…”

Her eyes observed his movements. Her gasp was loud as he pulled her body down and forced her legs around his waist, allowing his hard-on to brush against her exposed cunt.

“Let me taste you, baby,” Minhyuk whined, waiting for her answer.

His begging eyes held a dark promise, a sinful invitation that she found impossible to resist. She gently caressed his face, a slight smirk gracing her lips.

“Alright, love,” she eventually conceded, her tone laced with suspense. Her heart pounded as a flare of anticipation passed between them.

Minhyuk’s eyes sparked with victory and desire. He bent his head downwards, his husky voice whispering promises of pleasure as he began his descent, further trailing his hands down her body, elevating their intimate dance to a symphony of tantalizing sensations. This, she realized belatedly, was the intoxicating blend of lust and love - an enticing whirlpool of desire and fulfillment - sinfully smutty yet unbelievably romantic.

He wasted no time sliding down the bed until his eyes met her needy cunt. His lips parted as he reveled at the sight, his breath hitching in anticipation.

“So beautiful…” he muttered, his husky voice like warm velvet against her skin. His thumb gently teased her clit, causing her to gasp at the sudden sensation. A wicked smile curved on his lips, hearing her sweet whimper.

“Minhyuk…” she breathed, her voice barely audible under the storm of her desire. He looked up, his gaze holding a fiery promise.

His tongue traced a languid path from her entrance up to her clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. A triumphant hum came from him, adding extra sensation to her already sensory build-up. He lavished his attention, alternating between a slow lick and a quick flick, building her anticipation and desire to an excruciating peak.

“Don’t rush, love…” he murmured against her heated core, intoning sinful promise. His aroused gaze met hers, his hands keeping her steady as she writhed under him, futilely trying to get more friction. He chuckled, the sound vibrating delectably against her, sending spasms of pleasure through her. He relished her taste, appreciating their intimacy and closeness, entirely giving himself to her pleasure. He loved to tremendously arouse her longing, driving her to the sweet edge of ecstasy. “Just let it happen naturally…” He whispered darkly, resuming his torturous pace. “I’ll have you cumming in my mouth soon enough. I’ll take care of you.”

“Minhyuk…” she whimpered out, every cell in her body reaching out for his touch. Her legs trembled around him as minutes stretched into an eternity, proving his promise true. Her fingers gripped tighter at the sheets, her breath ragged and hitched in anticipation.

Every sensation was amplified, magnified by the intimate patience with which he worshipped her. The sound of his name on her lips was a sweet symphony to his ears, a clear sign of her impending release. He continued his skillful play, his tongue against her heat, his breath fanning over her wetness, fueling her desire further.

Her hips rolled up, meeting his lips in a desperate plea, and her body quivered, a clear sign of her impending climax. At her first spasm, he pulled back just slightly, only to dive back in, latching his mouth over her clit and sucking gently. The wave came crashing down, her body convulsing under the influence of a mind-numbing orgasm ripping through her. He held her close, his mouth still busied with drawing out all of her pleasure till her high receded, and she lay panting and spent, the taste of her climax still fresh on his lips.

“I told you, love,” he murmured against her oversensitive skin, his voice muffled by her thigh. His words were punctuated with a final, gentle lick as she shuddered again, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Their eyes met, his holding a promise of more to come as she rode the waves of satisfaction washing over her. “I’ve got you.”

Kissing her thighs, Minhyuk left open-mouth kisses all over her stomach and neck until his lips found hers once again. The kiss was impatient and greedy. Y/N knew her lover was close to breaking, and he would no longer wait for his own release.

“I’m done waiting.” He mumbled as he began undoing his pants. “I need you so fucking badly. Can your cunt handle me, baby?”

He watched as she nodded her head eagerly.

“You sure?” He teased, determination lacing his voice. His eyes were filled with fiery intensity and primal hunger that she found intoxicating.

“Yes.” She gasped out, her voice barely audible.

With an approving grunt, he shed his clothes remaining, revealing his arousal in its full hardness. His eye glistened with lust as he ran his fingers through her slick folds, collecting her excitement before smoothing it on himself.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he locked his gaze with hers. This act wasn’t just about penetration; it meant more than that. It mirrored the depth of their desires, the yearning they carried for each other within their hearts.

Slowly, he began his descent into her, finding her wet and ready for him. A tempting purr escaped her at his initial thrust, causing him to twitch within her. “God, you’re so tight.”

With that said, he began to move deeper into her, each thrust showing his intense need. He was slow, then fast - every push and pull creating waves of pleasure rippling through their bodies. Her eyes rolled back as an uncontrollable moan escaped her lips, fingers clutching onto his back as they rhythmically moved as one.

His name was a plead, a whisper, and then a scream that sounded with the collision of their bodies - a sweet harmony to their undying chorus of love and lust.

Their room flooded with sounds of their wild abandonment, gasps, and whispers of their names. He loved every reaction she gave with his deep thrusts into her, the way she arched her body, meeting his. Each grunt and moan they shared in their intimate congress was a reminder of the passion that had bound them together.

And just as the crescendo of their communion was about to be reached, he positioned himself even deeper, looking into her eyes as he thrust hard one last time. A loud cry escaped her lips, her body tensing and convulsing as he followed shortly after, their releases mingling together in a decadent tapestry of absolute, raw, sexual bliss.

All that was left was silence, save for their ragged breaths in unison, the only evidence of passion played out just moments ago, a symphony of their love and lust. He gazed at her, sweat-soaked and satisfied.

“I love you.” He whispered, kissing her deeply. “I love you, I love you. Fuck, I missed you. I miss seeing you every single day. I fucking miss you, baby. I’m going crazy without you.”

His words were like silent chants as his fingers found her own. She observed her lover carefully. Each word of praise and compliments felt like kisses to her body. She heard him sniffle, his head falling down in defeat, but she felt his warm tears kiss her skin.

“Min…” Her words were soft as she cupped his face. The moonlight didn’t hide his red face as he cried. “I’m here.”

She watched as he fell beside her, his head finding comfort on her chest as he cried silently. He was weak and vulnerable. All she could do was hold him close and remind him that even though his time was limited with her, she’d value all time with him.

Kissing the crown of his head, she whispered soothing words, threading her fingers through his hair until his sobs subsided, an unspoken promise to weather the storm together hanging between them. This newfound reality was a cruel one, yet she held on because love, she knew, transcended the limitations of time.

That night, sleep evaded her. She watched him eventually succumb to slumber, his body heavily sunk against her as if seeking refuge from the inevitable. Suddenly, the night seemed longer, each tick of the clock echoing ominously in the dimmed room. Her eyes gazed outside the window, tracing the stars in a futile attempt to find guidance in their ancient twinkling light.

The next morning dawned, bringing with it the familiar blush of an early sunrise. In the soft, warm glow, his face was serene, oblivious to the anger and unfairness of their situation.

Sorrow washed over her as she slipped out of his hold. She cloaked herself in this brief solitude, allowing the tears to flow in quiet rebellion against the day that promised to chip away a piece of their borrowed time. The typical morning noises - birdsong, the hum of distant traffic sounded surprisingly devoid of joy.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air in the kitchen, battling her welling despair with its familiar comfort. As she prepared breakfast, she fought back the lump in her throat. The simple act spoke volumes of her unvoiced fears and hidden hopes, a poignant symbol of unsaid declarations.

However, with each passing second, anger slowly filled her body and pushed away the sadness that crept up. She blinked away the tears, hating how the new ones were replaced with angry ones. She hated how easily she fell for his apology. How he left her without much for months on end and decided he’d instead not visit her while he could.

Her inhale was shaky, and the countertop was cold beneath her hands, a silent pillar of support. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and distractions, all dangerously teetering on the precipice of weariness that slowly invaded her soul due to lack of sleep.

Before she could brace herself, she heard movement behind her. Minhyuk was awake. She turned to see his sleep-ruffled hair as he blinked away sleep’s haze.

“Why are you up so early?” He asked, a veneer of casualness looming over his curiosity. She watched as he held out his hand, an invite he’d hoped she’d take. “Come back to bed. We can worry about breakfast later.”

Her heart pounded, a drumbeat loud in her ears. Taking a deep breath, she finally voiced out the thought that had been gnawing at her since the night before. “We need to talk about how you barely keep in contact.”

Minhyuk froze, his eyes wide open in surprise. The silence that enveloped them was deafening, amplifying the harsh reality of her words. She locked eyes with Minhyuk, whose confusion slowly fell away to be replaced with a flicker of understanding and then guilt.

“Why didn’t you keep in touch?” she asked quietly, the weight of that seemingly simple question filling up the space between them. Each word echoed around in their shared silence, a stark indictment of his absence.

“But I…” he began, stumbling over his words, lost for justification. She stood firm, her resolve unwavering. This was a conversation that had been overdue, a piece of their shared reality that had to be addressed. Through her weariness, she found the strength—and anguished determination—to face him and demand answers, even if they promised to unravel the delicate ambiance of their morning. “I’m sorry.”

She watched as the walls around her lover caved in. His eyes looked away from her own, fresh tears prickling away and wishing to fall when given the right time. She knew she had backed him into a corner he didn’t want to be in. But that’s how she felt when he greeted her with nothing.

Minhyuk gulped, visibly struggling with words. “I… I didn’t want my absence to hurt you.” His attempt at explanation seemed to hang in the air, a feeble defense against her palpable anguish. “Fuck – that’s not an excuse, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“But it did hurt, Minhyuk,” she replied, trembling. “It hurt because you were not here. Because you chose to hide from me instead of talking to me. It felt like I was trying to talk to a ghost.”

His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet the raw hurt in her eyes. The silence grew more poignant between them, the air filled with unthinkable pain and regret. His silence only spurred the sense of sadness, of betrayal that was bubbling within her.

“Why Minhyuk?” She asked again, her voice barely a whisper but carrying a weight that suddenly seemed too heavy to bear. His silence was answer enough. It echoed the months of lonely nights and fearful days, the unattended messages, the unanswered calls, the unsaid words that should have bridged their distance but instead widened it.

Minhyuk drew in a shaky breath, tears and regret moistening his eyes. He opened his mouth, finally ready to answer, willing to brave the storm of emotions threatening to drown them both. Their borrowed time was ticking away just as their challenging conversation was only getting started.

“I was scared. I… It’s not like I’m away on tour. This is different for both of us. I’m trying, but I’m scared you won’t wait for me,” Minhyuk confessed, his voice echoing vulnerability and fear.

“And that’s why you chose to distance yourself?” she asked, her tone laced with bitterness. “You made the choice for me? You decided I wouldn’t wait without even giving me a chance to decide for myself?”

He looked flustered, a shadow of his usually confident self. “I… I guess I did. I was just trying to protect you, to protect us,” he stammered.

She gave a hollow laugh. “And look how well that turned out.” Her sarcasm was a bitter pill, a harsh realization of their predicament. She breathed deeply, “We weather what comes together, Minhyuk. That’s what love is. You don’t get to decide what I can and cannot handle.”

His gaze met hers once more, tear-streaked but resolute. Silence enveloped them again, but this time, it wasn’t one of confusion or guilt but of understanding and, hopefully, resolve for better communication in their uncertain future.

“How fucking dare you?” She hissed, pointing at him as angered tears brimmed her eyes, “How dare you walk in here and think that just because you fucked me that I’d forgive you? That it would make anything okay? Minhyuk, I waited for you! Months and months! All I got from you were twice-a-week texts when I was lucky and videos of you attending the boy’s concert. How is it okay for me to see you on social media but not in person? Not until last night when you were too horny to control yourself. To actually wake me up like a normal person would.”

She watched as Minhyuk stood there, listening to her anger-filled words. There was a mix of emotions in his eyes - regret, self-reproach, and a deep-seated sadness. He appeared as if her words had physically pained him, but he made no move to defend himself. Instead, he stood there, absorbing each painful accusation, each sniffle, each tear that slipped from her eyes.

Minhyuk raised a shaky hand to his face, brushing away a stray tear from his eye. He watched her momentarily - the woman he claimed to love, yet unintentionally hurt. The silence settled around them, filling the room with tension and desolation.

“We knew from the start, Y/N, it was going to be hard juggling both my career and our relationship,” Minhyuk started, his voice raspy as he tried to steady his breathing, “But I let things spiral out of control. I admit that. Last night…,” he paused, looking away briefly, “Last night was wrong on so many levels. I was selfish, desperate to be close to you again in whatever way possible.”

Slowly, Minhyuk moved towards her, his actions filled with caution, but she did not flinch or move away. Instead, she watched him with tear-filled eyes, her anger dissipating into a silent plea for understanding.

He reached out for her again, testing the waters to see if she would move. His shoulders fell in relief as she allowed his hand to hold hers. It was a silent step in the right direction. Hopeful he was making the right moves.

“I won’t beg for your forgiveness or try to sugarcoat my mistakes. But I need you to know,” he continued, “that I never took you lightly. When I was with the boys, going to concerts, you were always on my mind. I promised you my heart, Y/N, not just my free time.”

She could see the sincerity in Minhyuk’s eyes. It did not heal the breach, but it was a start. There was a lot he needed to explain and make up for. But at least they communicated openly and honestly for the first time in many months. It was a step towards understanding, even if forgiveness was still miles away.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you. I should’ve told you I was free. I just… I fucked up. I don’t want to lose you. Let me make it up to you. Properly this time. The way you deserve it.”

His words echoed through the room, filled with desperation and regret. He stood before her, stripped of all pretenses, laying bare his emotions. In this moment, humility replaced his usually bold demeanor, and the heartfelt sincerity shone through.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her, Y/N couldn’t ignore the genuine regret etched onto Minhyuk’s face. For the first time, perhaps, he truly understood the pain he had caused and the magnitude of his mistakes. Amidst the lingering anger, a feeble spark of compassion ignited in her heart.

Finally, she spoke softly and tentatively, “It’s not about making up, Minhyuk. It’s about change. It’s about understanding what went wrong and ensuring it doesn’t happen again.”

Minhyuk nodded, accepting her terms unconditionally. He pulled her into his arms, his lips kissing her forehead as he always did when he was genuinely sorry.

“I promise, Y/N.” He whispered, his lips unmoving from kissing her forehead. “Come back to bed with me. You have me until tomorrow. I’m all yours.”

With a quiet acknowledgment of her words, he wrapped his arms around her, guiding her toward the bedroom. It was evident that he was full of remorse about what had happened, and he was eager to make things right. He was warm behind her, his body curving naturally against hers.

They moved together in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. The creaky floorboards beneath their feet echoed their tentative steps, and the soft cast of the morning sunlight cast a soft glow on their faces. As they stepped back into the room, the air grew heavy with unspoken words and understanding. The bed was unmade and inviting, a beacon of comfort in the otherwise empty apartment.

The sheets, still warm from their prior slumber, welcomed them in its embrace. He carefully climbed in first, patting beside himself and inviting her to join him. He watched as she hesitantly climbed in next to him, crawling under the covers before turning to face him. His eyes scanned her face, taking in its every contour, every remnant of their shared grief and unspoken understanding.

He closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. His hold was comforting yet painfully familiar, reigniting the spark that once existed between them. His fingers traced patterns on her skin, a mindless action that used to put her right to sleep. His lips pressed against her forehead in a gentle kiss, an act of apology, of promise.

“I promise, Y/N,” he whispered against her skin, his voice barely audible. The words, laden with sincerity, echoed in the room’s silence. His promise hung heavy in the air, intertwining with the quiet hum of the night. “I - I know my promises may not mean too much to you... but this time is different.”

His hold tightened around her as they lay in the quiet room, his fingers tracing familiar patterns on her skin as she turned her back to him, allowing him to pull her as close as possible, spooning her. Despite his best efforts, sleep refused to claim her. Minhyuk sensed her restlessness, her untold thoughts echoing in the silence that stretched between them.

Deciding to break the silence, he whispered, “Y/N, how have you been?”

“Minhyuk, I’ve been terrible.” Her hesitant breath hitched at his question, and she responded with brutal honesty. The words were strained, and a bitter laugh devoid of humor escaped her lips. She took a calming breath before continuing, “I cry every day, you know. And my coworkers... oh god, the pity in their eyes, Minhyuk. It’s unbearable.” Her voice shivered, her pain bleeding through her words. “Every day I waited for you... hoping for something, anything. But I was met with nothing.”

As she spoke, he felt his heart clench. Each word was like a strike against his chest. His arms instinctively closed tighter around her, an attempt to pull her closer, if possible, to shield her from any more pain. But even as he did so, he realized it was him causing the pain. His promises of change rang hollow in his ears compared to her raw and truthful suffering.

Despite his comforting hold, shared warmth, and the quiet hum of the morning light, sleep continued to elude them. In its stead, guilt, regret, and a longing for repentance again settled over Minhyuk.

Her honest confession shocked Minhyuk, its raw intensity piercing through the fragile silence. Each word she spoke was laden with a bitter agony that stung him to the core. Her reality, shaped by his indiscretions, rocked him to reality. The words ‘terrible,’ ‘crying,’ and ‘pity’ echoed in his mind, searing his heart with a guilt that was becoming increasingly unbearable.

He clung to her desperately, his embrace tightening as if to shield her from the pain he himself had inflicted. Yet each word she uttered, the honesty behind her pain, shattered his illusion of being her protector. Every confession she whispered made him understand that he was not the guardian but the monster from whom she needed protection.

The anguish in his heart welled up, and his eyes welled up with unshed tears, spreading a wet warmth on his cheeks. His breath hitched as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, hoping she wouldn’t hear his silent sobs. The realization, the hard-hitting reality of the pain he had inflicted on her, was a torment he had never predicted.

As sleep remained far from the pair, a wrenching guilt seeped into him, pooling around his heart. He held her close, his apology hanging heavily in the shared silence. His quiet tears continued to soak their shared pillow, a tangible testament to his regret and an act of repentance for his transgressions. Every ticking second, his guilt grew, blossoming into a suffocating remorse that stagnated the air around them.

His guilt reached an unbearable intensity, smothering him under its weight. With shuddering breaths and teardrop-laden eyes, he mustered up the courage to break the silence. Fragile and burdened with regret, his voice was hardly above a whisper, “Y/N... I’m... I’m so sorry.”

The words felt inadequate, a pitiful attempt to convey the ocean of remorse that swam within him. Each syllable chipped away at his composure, leaving him vulnerable and exposed to her. His tears continued to fall, leaving warm trails on his cheeks. The same tears that held no care if they wet her shoulders. His body shook with silent sobs, tremors of guilt that reverberated between them.

“I was... I was wrong,” he admitted, the words a mere breath against her hair. “I hurt you... you didn’t deserve any of this.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, his apology tainting the once comforting silence.

He broke further with each word he uttered, a solemn testament to his regret. The guilt within him crackled and ate away at his composure, each ticking second grating at his resolve. Facing the magnitude of his transgressions, he found himself on the precipice of despair, teetering on the edge of a chasm that threatened to swallow him whole.

In his state of desolation, Minhyuk clung to her, desperate for a semblance of stability as he navigated the tumultuous storm of his remorse. The anguished vulnerability that gripped him served as a stark reminder of the path of pain and distress he had inflicted upon her. Absorbed in his spiral of regret, sleep remained a distant echo, replaced by the unending cycle of apologies that streamed from his broken heart. His anguish echoed in the silence, a stark contrast to the harmonious hum of the morning enveloping them.

Taking a shaky breath, he looked up at the ceiling with tear-stained eyes, his voice stuttering in his remorse. “After the fancon... I regretted not coming to see you,” he admitted the words carrying an immense weight of guilt. He could still remember the joy in the fans’ eyes, a stark contrast to the pain he had caused her. “I fucking hated myself.”

His laughter with the fans and the camaraderie he shared with them was a gut-wrenching reminder of the time he could have, should have, spent with her. Was the joy he felt worth the pain he had caused her? The answer was painfully evident.

“I consumed myself in self-hatred for weeks.” His voice was barely a whisper, fervent yet pained. Each word seemed to scrape at his throat as if the vocal embodiment of his regret was just as painful as the emotional turmoil within him. “And I... I got even more scared to message you because I knew... I knew you saw everything. I was scared you’d hate me. That you would realize I was never good for you, that you deserve someone who can give you their time.”

His confession was met with silence, further amplifying the heavy echo of his guilt. His body shook, trembling under the weight of his regret. It was almost as if confessing his remorse carved open wounds within him, the anguish seeping out and staining the silence between them.

Every passing second was a painful reminder of his what he had done, his guilt growing like a malignant tumor within him. His regret had become an unending cycle, suffocating him with remorse to the point where sleep remained a distant desire. His hushed apologies and silent sobs stayed suspended in the air in stark contrast to the harmonic hum of the night, filling the room with an unbearable heaviness.

Lost in his storm of regret, Minhyuk clung to her, yearning for the stability and warmth she always provided him, a stark reminder of what he had so carelessly discarded.

“Say something...please,” he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper in the dense stillness. Despite his trembling form and tear-streaked face, he mustered the courage to break the silence again. The void of her response scared him, the silence morphing into a beast threatening to consume his sanity. He was terrified of losing her, losing the only solace he had known amidst the chaos he had created. “Please Y/N...”

In a desperate attempt to see her reaction, to gauge her feelings, he gently turned her to face him. The sight that met him was as tormenting as the silence. Her features, usually radiant and warm, were dull and tear-streaked, mirroring his own despair. Her silent tears were a stark, painful echo of his actions, of the harm he had caused.

The reality of their shared suffering intensified his guilt, making it an almost tangible presence in the room. His apology felt inadequate, a feeble attempt against the pain he saw mirrored in her eyes. His wrongdoings and choices led them to this point of shared agony. Every tick of the clock reminded him of his actions and the remorse that was now their companion.

The air was heavy, almost tangible, with the weight of his guilt, the despair radiating from him in waves. Sleep remained a distant dream, replaced by the relentless grip of regret tightening around him. The muffled echo of his sobs and the harsh contrast of their anguish against the peaceful morning only highlighted the gravity of the turmoil within them. Clinging to her, he sought solace amidst this storm, the warmth of her presence amidst the cold dread of his regret. The realization of the depth of pain he had inflicted loomed ominously, a cruel taunt of the love he had so recklessly mishandled.

She made an attempt to speak, yet her voice wavered, choked by tears and the overwhelming wave of hurt he had inflicted upon her. The sound, or rather the lack of it, crushed him further. He held her tighter as though the strength of his embrace could blot out the cruel reality of their situation.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he gasped between sobs. Apologies poured from him, a cascade of remorse, grief, and desperation. Each word was a palpable fragment of his guilt, echoing in the oppressive silence of their shared space. His voice was a broken whisper, the raw edge of emotions making it almost inaudible.

“I’ll... I’ll do better,” he promised, clinging to her like a lifeline as if she was the only thing anchoring him in his sea of regret. “I’ll try to... to wrap up early, be home with you... You need - deserve better. More than I’ve given you.”

The admission ripped through him, a brutal acknowledgment of how profoundly he had failed her. The hands that held her trembled, reverberating the aftershocks of his guilt through her. She was crying silently, a damning testament to his actions.

His guilt was a suffocating entity in the room, a hovering ghost casting long shadows over what was once their respite. His hushed promises and tear-laden apologies hung in the air, each a testimony of his pain and regret. His desperation echoed in the cruel morning silence, bouncing off the walls and seeping into every corner of their shared space. It was an inescapable reminder of his recklessness, a stark contrast to the serenity the morning glow, under different circumstances, would usually bring. His hell was one of his own making, a torment born from his choices, his regret a constant companion.

“Maybe... maybe I don’t deserve you, Y/N. Fuck, I definitely don’t deserve you,” he confessed, burying his face in her hair. “But I need you... I can’t do this without you. I’m too selfish to let you go,” he admitted his voice a thread of barely contained anguish. His hands, trembling and unsure, gently cupped her face, his thumb lightly tracing the trail of tears that stained her cheeks. Her anguish, a damning testament of his actions, was clear and evident in the tear tracks. “Is that so wrong? Why am I so fucking selfish with you when I push you away? I’m a monster.”

As if to assuage his guilt and offer a wordless apology, he pressed tender kisses on her forehead, temples, and cheeks, each one a silent vow. His lips lingered a moment longer on each tear-stained spot as if hoping to kiss away the hurt he himself had caused.

The room was filled with his whispered promises, his broken apologies, each word raw and heavy with regret. The atmosphere clung onto each syllable, echoing his desperation throughout their shared space. He clung to her, his lifeline in the turbulent sea of guilt and regret. Her warmth was a harsh reminder of what he stood to lose, of the love he had so foolishly mishandled.

Despite the despair that gripped him, despite the guilt that threatened to consume him, Minhyuk held onto hope. A hope that was encapsulated in her, a hope that she would find it in her heart to forgive him, to give him another chance. Yet, her silence and tears tore at him more painfully than her words ever could. His hell was a torment of his own making, a grave he had dug out for himself with his recklessness and disregard.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice trembled, mirroring her emotions. Wracked with sobs and choked with tears, she uttered, “Minhyuk...”

The sound of his name, laced with so much pain, hurt more than any words of reprimand could. It was a brutal echo of his actions, a painful reflection of the harm he had caused. Yet despite the sting, he clung onto the vestiges of her voice, desperate for any semblance of a response, validation that she was still willing to communicate with him, to give him a chance to repent.

“Do you remember that day at the amusement park, Minhyuk?” she whispered, a hint of nostalgia creeping into her voice. Her voice trembled, telling the tale of a time when they were both younger and less burdened. “You were trying to impress me by winning me that stuffed toy, but you fell into the dunk tank instead. Everyone was laughing... and you... You were soaking wet, shivering, but still grinning like a fool.”

She let out a shaky laugh, a warm yet tormented sound that briefly dispelled the oppressive atmosphere. He found himself chuckling along, the memory of that embarrassing incident being a bittersweet reminder of happier times. Her soft laughter was like a ray of sunlight piercing through storm clouds, illuminating the dark corners of his guilt.

Slowly, the gloom of the room retracts a little. As if the clouds decided they had spent enough time blocking the sun’s shine. Her laughter echoed lightly against the walls, bouncing back to them like a tender caress, a small salve on their shared wounds. Minhyuk closed his eyes, holding onto the sound of her laughter, onto the memory of that day, onto the little bit of hope it offered, and let a careful sigh of relief escape his lips.

“I remember, Y/N... I was drenched, and everyone was laughing. But you...” He pressed closer to her, his laughter dying as he whispered, his voice dropping lower, a thread of emotion weaving through his tone, “You were there, standing up for me, your laughter the brightest thing I had ever heard. I fell for you even more that day.”

The mood had been lightened a bit, but the truth of their situation still loomed heavy around them. Yet, in that moment, they found a shared comfort in a cherished memory, a respite from the storm that still had to be faced. They clung to each other, the story of their past serving as a small beacon of light amidst the darkness of their present.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered again, his voice barely above a breath, a fragile testament to his pain. Drawing her as close as he could, he locked eyes with her. Tears formed watery rims around his eyes, the ghosts of the laughter from their shared memory fading into the wind. “I’m sorry I was a ghost. Everything you worried about and begged for to not happen… it happened, and it was my own fault. It was all me.”

His thumb caressed her cheek gently, wiping away the fresh flood of tears that threatened to spill from her beautiful eyes. The moment’s intimacy, the raw emotion, turned every touch, every whisper into a poignant echo in the hollow silence.

“Kiss me, Minhyuk,” she said. Just as his face neared hers, ready to lose himself in her again, she held up a hand. The words that softly passed her lips gave him pause. Despite the curtain of tears, her eyes had a determined glint, her voice carrying a wavering note of resilience.

Respect for her wishes and his own yearning propelled him to gently press his lips against hers. It was a kiss filled with regret, desperate promises of reformation, and the faint hope of forgiveness. Their shared pain resonated in this exchange, this moment of desperate connection. His guilt, her forgiveness, and their collective hope for a better tomorrow were all locked in this lingering kiss, a poignant denouement to the regret-filled morning.

She gently pulled away from the kiss, her gaze steady yet filled with unshed tears. “Can we... Can we re-do last night?”

The question hung in the air between them, fragile as glass yet as heavy as lead.

His heart swelled in his chest. Was this a chance for redemption? For atonement? He searched her eyes, desperately seeking affirmation, and found his answer in the vulnerable depths of her gaze.

“We don’t have to...” he started, his voice almost a plea, a need to reassure her that there was no obligation, pressure, or expectation. But she silenced him with another kiss, her hands cradling his face.

“I want to... with you,” she said softly, her gaze steadfast on him and her heart bared open. “I want to make love to you, Minhyuk.”

With a shaky breath, Minhyuk nodded, his voice a soft whisper in the silent room. “If that is what you wish, Y/N, I am here,” he assured her, his eyes shining with gratitude and a newfound determination.

He leaned in to gently kiss her neck, trailing his lips down with reverence. His kisses were feather-light, yet they marked her skin with a delicate heat. His fingers traced non-specific patterns on her skin, feeling the familiar warmth beneath his touch. He held her with one arm, using his free hand to explore her physique, treading on the known yet novel territory.

Minhyuk moved cautiously, letting his hands roam over her body, every move a silent question seeking her approval. At each motion, she would hum a soft affirmation, encouraging him to continue. He took his time, savoring every response and every gasp of pleasure that escaped her lips. All he wanted was to make her feel cherished and treasured. Like he should have before.

Her pulse quickened beneath his touch, their breaths hitching in sync. The sound of his name on her lips sounded like a prayer. This time, it was different. It wasn’t about seeking solace or escaping but about reaffirming and reminding each other of the love they once passionately shared.

This intimate moment was a far cry from their previous encounter. There was an eminent sense of respect and a deep understanding of each other’s needs and boundaries. It was about seeking healing, seeking comfort in their shared desire, and assent to rewrite the unwelcome memories of the previous night.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin, his voice fading into a husky rumble. He dipped his head low, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder. She smiled, her eyes filled with unspoken emotions. “You’re so beautiful. A daydream.”

Minhyuk’s breath hitched as his fingers slowly slid down, journeying across her body. His touch was feather-light yet deliberate, tracing the curves of her form with the reverence of a lover enshrined in history, familiar yet intoxicatingly novel.

He carefully slid a hand lower, his fingertips gently grazing through the soft fabric of her undergarment. Her quick breath intake was all the approval he needed to push. Further, his fingers now tracing delicate patterns against her, raising goosebumps of pleasure in their wake.

His other hand cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone in gentle arcs, his gaze locked onto her expression, a silent plea for continued affirmation in her eyes. Her lips parted, releasing a soft moan at his touch, her eyes half-lidded with ecstasy yet still holding that deep trust for him.

His actions were slow and punctuated, each a statement, a question, a request for consent. Time seemed to still to the rhythm of their beating hearts as they journeyed closer to that peak of intimacy, poised on the brink of pleasure and transcendence.

As his digits began to delicately explore her, their shared breaths grew more erratic, the soulful intimacy of the moment amplifying the sensory pleasure. A soft gasp echoed in the room, her hands clutching at his shoulders, a hushed plea of his name creating an orchestra of sounds in the otherwise silent room, adding to the melody of their shared union.

His fingers continued their delicate exploration, rhythms matching the steady rise and fall of her chest, creating a symphony of whispered pleas and strangled gasps. Her hands curled tighter into his shoulders, her breath hitching in sync with his every careful movement.

The room filled with their shared exhales of pleasure; the whispered utterances of each other’s names were a testament to their surrendered control. His attentions only intensified, the deliberate movements of his fingers heightening her pleasure, each apt touch making her arch into his touch.

His focus was intense, his gaze never leaving her face, quietly seeking her consent while noting each expressive tell of her rising pleasure on her face. His name fell from her lips, a whispered plea, her eyes lidded heavy with desire and trust.

She clutched him closer, her fingers digging into his bare skin in response to his skilled attention, each movement bringing her closer to that precipice of breathtaking ecstasy. He could feel her body begin to tighten around his fingers, her breathing ragged.

With a final arch of her back and a hushed gasp of his name, he felt her shatter against his touch, their shared breaths the only sound in the still, moonlit room. The intimacy of their rendezvous echoed in the otherwise quiet space, bearing testament to their tender, healing union.

They lay there together in the immediate aftermath, her body still trembling from the recent onslaught of pleasure. Her breath gradually slowed to match his, their chests rising and falling in sync. For a moment, they simply basked in each other’s presence, the depth of their shared connection enveloping them like a comforting blanket.

Minhyuk pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, cheeks, and nose —respectful, worshipful. His fingertips traced lazy patterns on her skin, each touch further solidifying their undeniable bond. In response to his movements, she entwined her fingers with his and sighed contentedly, her breath fanning over his neck.

“Minhyuk, I... I want more,” she murmured, her gaze locking onto his, filled to the brim with trust and unguarded passion. He hummed in acknowledgment, eyebrows raised in silent question. “Please...”

Visibly taken aback by her words, Minhyuk searched her eyes for any trace of doubt, but all he found was sincere desire and earnest anticipation. As a form of consent, he nodded and pressed his lips to hers in a heated kiss before allowing his touch to travel further, intent on satisfying her newfound curiosity.

His fingers slowly began to undo the remaining clothing barriers between them, his gaze never leaving hers, asking for silent affirmation with every button undone; every inch of fabric slipped off her body. The metabolism of his heartbeat mirrored in the anticipation twinkling in her eyes. She reciprocated his efforts, tugging at his boxers, their clothes pooling at their feet.

“Can I...?” she asked, her tone laced with uncertainty as her gaze met his, a mixture of desire and determination etched into her features. He nodded, aware of her unspoken desire, and satuating himself comfortably against the headboard.

She moved to straddle him, her knees dug into the mattress on either side of his hips. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for him; his breath hitched in his chest at the contact. He watched her from beneath half-lidded eyes, noting the flush that spread across her cheeks, the slight shudder that ran through her spine as she began to sink down onto him.

Greater sensation overwhelmed him as she adjusted to him, her pace deliberately slow. His hands moved to rest on her hips, aiding her in finding a rhythm that brought pleasure to them both. Her head fell back, lips parted in a silent moan as her body moved against his, the sound of their mingled breaths filling the room.

Her movement was a dance, beautifully rhythmic and sinfully enticing. Each roll of her hips into his served as a testament to their shared desire, every shared moan a proof of their unspoken passion. She leaned forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss, their bodies meeting each other’s in a rhythm only they understood.

As she set the rhythm, he moved with her, hands traveling the expanse of her bare body, relishing the softness of her skin. His fingers traced the curves and valleys with a sense of awe, fingers dipping into places that earned him soft sighs and gasps of pleasure from her lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he managed to say, his low rasp vibrating against her skin, amplifying their ongoing intimacy. His gaze traveled the length of her, taking in her blossoming form, flushing under his touch, half-obscured in the diffused moonlight streaming in through the window. “You are everything to me. My world, my breath, my heartbeat.”

Acknowledgment of his heartfelt compliment was a slight hitch in the movement of her hips and an appreciative nudge against his hands, pressing him to explore further. Her body was a work of art, each movement sinfully enticing, making him hard to resist.

The sight of her, eyes glittering with pleasure, body moving fluidly against his in the most tantalizing way, was nothing short of empowering. He reached up and cupped her face, drawing her down for a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues dancing with the same rhythm their bodies had set. He conveyed his affection, admiration, and reverence through their lips meeting.

She moaned against his mouth, her body arching into his touch, seeking more, offering more. His hands guided her movements, each stroke setting her senses on fire. Desire mounted as their bodies meshed, the fervent connection sending them spiraling toward a climactic crest. His name rolled off her lips in a breathless whisper, a sweet melody to his ears, pushing him further into passionate depths.

As she continued to move, he marveled at the sight of her in the throes of pleasure. His hands explored the expanse of her body. Each touch, each caress, was a silent praise.

“You’re a vision.” he breathed out, his voice heavy with ardor. Her skin, flushed and glowing in the dimly lit room, encouraged him further. His fingers traced the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips; every part of her underneath his hands was a testament to her beauty.

Each roll of her hips against his elicited a low moan from him, each sound spurring her on. His praise, their shared desire, and their intimate connection continued to fuel their actions. She bent down, pressing her lips onto his as she continued to ride him, matching the rhythm of their shared breathing.

Their bodies moved in sync; the feel of her soft skin against his and the expression of pleasure etched on her face was nothing short of intoxicating. He relished in her reaction, watching as she arched her back, lost in the pleasure he was providing her.

When the climax arrived, it was like a wave crashing over them. She cried out his name, her body shuddering with the overwhelming sensation. He followed soon after, his body tensing as he reached the peak of his pleasure. Nothing but their shared breaths filled the room, the sound echoing like a testament to their passion. A shared intimacy that was more than just physical, a bond that was deep and unfathomably profound.

As the waves of pleasure began to decrease and the heightened sensitivity slowly faded, they found each other tangled in a comfortable embrace, their bodies still humming from the recent high. He held her close, her body nestling perfectly against him, their heartbeats synchronizing in the tranquility of the afterglow.

“Are you okay?” he murmured into her hair, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare skin, the intimacy of the question matching the intimacy they had just shared. A simple “Mhm.” was her content response, her warm breath fanning over his chest, lulling him into a sense of serene comfort.

He rolled onto his side, pulling her along with him, tucking her against his body so that her head rested on his chest, right over his heart. His fingers explored her body in a different way now, absent of lust but filled with an overwhelming affection. His touch was tender this time – a worshipful appreciation of her presence and trust in him.

“Promise me,” he began, his voice but a soft murmur seeping into the room’s stillness. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him, those usually playful eyes now filled with a seriousness that she rarely saw, “Promise me we’ll always be there for each other like we are now.”

“I promise,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, right above his heart where his promise was undoubtedly echoed. The seriousness of his gaze made her heart flutter, and despite the mild surprise, she knew there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind. His arm around her tightened, a silent acknowledgment of their shared promise.

From then on, it wasn’t just the cuddling or the lingering kisses they shared. It was the unsaid promises and the whispered vows amid silence. It was how he looked at her like she was his entire world. They held each other as if reassuring themselves of the other’s presence. It was the intimacy and the affection that filled the room – something that was long overdue and now would never be lacking again.

“I’m going to miss you, Min.” She uttered. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid her words might shatter the tranquility of their intimate moment.

Minhyuk let out a soft sigh, his fingers lightly stroking her hair. He didn’t want her to worry about the future, not when they were wrapped up in each other’s arms in the present.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He murmured, his tone gentle, reassuring. “I’m here tomorrow, too. I’m all yours. We could stay in bed all day, order out if we have to.”

When she nodded against his chest, he continued. “And when I’m done with my service, I will take some time off. We can spend that time together. No distractions, no obligations. Just you and me.”

“Promise?” She asked, her voice quivering slightly, her eyes sparkled with unshed tears at his words, her heart swelling with love and affection for him.

“I promise,” he affirmed without hesitation, tightening his arms around her in a comforting hold. His plans were sincere, a future sculpted around them. His words were an unsaid promise, an understanding that their bond isn’t transitory, just paused for the better. The weight of his words hung in the air, an oath sworn and received, a pledge of a future where their love held prominence.

“And there’s something else I promise,” he said, his voice quiet yet steady as he locked his gaze with hers, a seriousness reflecting in his usually playful eyes. He took a deep breath as if gathering his courage before continuing. “When I’m done serving, and I’m back, I... I want to marry you.”

The words sunk into the room’s silence, like a stone thrown in a still lake, leaving ripples of reactions on her face. His proposal was straightforward and earnest, a confession that came from the depths of his heart. He was offering a future, not of doubts but of certainty. He was offering a life together to brave any storm that would come their way.

“I’ve thought about this for a while,” he admitted, his arms holding her closer. “I know it’s a big decision, and I don’t want you to rush your answer.” He sighed, his thumb gently brushing a tear away that had trickled down her cheek. “I want you to be sure.”

“But yeah,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I’m selfish. I want you by my side. Your presence and support… mean more to me than anything else. I want us to face the future together, no matter how tough the tides get. I want us to stand together, always.”

His confession was an admittance of his feelings, indicating the depth of their relationship. Despite his remark about being selfish, it was anything but that. His words were sincere, representing a pure soul who loved unconditionally. The promise was less of an assurance and more of a humble request stemming from intense love and admiration for her.

“What do you think?” Minhyuk asked, his voice heavy with anticipation, his eyes searching hers for an answer. He wanted to know her thoughts and feelings about this proposal and their future together.

“I think we’re going to have a beautiful future together,” she responded, her voice filled with a rare kind of certainty. A soft smile stretched across her face, her eyes twinkling with joy. She’d been waiting for him to voice these words for a long time.

“I cannot wait to find out,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Minhyuk felt a surge of joy, a relief washing over him. He pulled her closer into an embrace, one that was light with promise and happiness. They cuddled together and held each other close, letting the silence encase them as they reveled in the promise of a future together.

Their story concluded on a hopeful note; the future was uncertain, but their feelings for each other were not. The promises they made and the love they shared overshadowed everything else. The true story was just beginning, a journey of two souls intertwined, bound by a promise of a lifetime.

#kvanity #monsta x imagines #monsta x x reader #minhyuk x reader #monsta x smut #monsta x fluff #minhyuk smut #minhyuk imagines #minhyuk imagine smut #minhyuk imagine angst #minhyuk angst #monsta x angst

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breezybangtanbebe · 3 months

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❤️‍🔥💭 Boyfriend Minhyuk💭❤️‍🔥

The Best Friend Boyfriend

A/N: this one kinda just got away from me lol I don't know what happened. So if it's longer than the others, that's why :)

7.4k words

Emotionally💕:

Since I share a sign with this man, I can speak a little on how I think he operates in relationships. Similar to our Pisces Bunny, Minhyuk is very in tune with his emotions. Meaning he will know how he feels about you immediately. And he will make sure you know how he feels. IMMEDIATELY. I also feel like his relationships generally stem from close friendships since he's so selective about his circle. Isn't a huge fan of the dating game, finds it to be too tedious.

Very loyal. Very honest. Sometimes to a fault. He doesn't mean any harm by telling you the truth, so don't take it to heart. He's not for the sensitive types.

"Not that one."

Hearing Minhyuk's voice just now puts you off guard, startling you a bit. The last time you asked for his opinion, he merely shrugged without taking his eyes off his Instagram feed so you hadn't exchanged any words since.

Before that, he hadn't said a word other than to complain about being dragged into some tiny corner store boutique against his will. It was a place you hadn't paid much mind in passing, usually on the way to that Mexican grill Minhyuk always wanted to eat at. You just never had a reason to go in until now.

"Huh?" You frowned, looking back at him over your shoulder with your fingertips slotted between two hangers. As ironically uninterested Minhyuk appeared to be in what you were doing, the way he always looked like a supermodel posing was aggravating. Even in just a black tee tucked lazily in light-washed denim, shades perched on his crown to keep his chestnut tresses from obstructing his view of his phone, he was just one of those people who didn't have to do much to be stylish. It's just effortless for him.

Standing by looking as uninterested as any man would be watching his girl best friend thumb through clothes mindlessly, Minhyuk takes his hand from his pocket to point at the floral chiffon dress that held your attention longest.

"Not that dress." He states plainly, now stowing his phone in his back pocket and approaching you. He kept his eye on the dress you held up by the hanger with a slight cringe on his face. You mirrored his expression, looking at the dress you held as if you couldn't understand why he seemed so affronted by it.

"What? Why.. what's wrong with it?" You pout and Minhyuk snorts dryly before taking a pinch of the thin fabric between his fingers.

"Feels weird. Plus it seems pretty out of season don't you think?"

You laughed at that, hearing him sound so knowledgeable of such things. He looked like he did but fashion was never something the two of you discussed.

Your mouth opens to defend the dress you were only considering but it shuts the second Minhyuk is plucking it from your hands and hanging back on the rack.

"Plus it just screams 8th grade prom or Easter service. And I know neither of those are why we're in here." He adds, effectively ending that conversation.

"Ok..." you mutter under your breath, glancing at the dress one more time. It wasn't that bad, but then the image of you stumbling awkwardly in kitten heels back in 2008 in that exact dress makes you cringe.

You're about to reach for another one that's less frilly and a solid pastel shade when Minhyuk makes a sound of disgust.

"DEFINITELY not that one either. I'd rather you pick the Easter dress over that.."

"Oh my god...You know that spot at the front of the boutique with the chairs and crusty fashion magazines and stuff. You can go sit over there and wait for me. You don't have to hover." You gesture over Minhyuk's shoulder and he glances back with that sexy little smirk of his that stuck in your mind when you didn't want it to. He turns back to you with a brow lifted, looking you up and down to size you up.

"Apparently I do. You can't be trusted to do this alone. You were about to pick that." He snarks, nodding towards the floral catastrophe again.

You refused to give the dress any more thought as you huffed an exasperated sigh, slapping your thighs as you slumped in defeat.

"Well since you know every damn thing about dresses, you pick." You fold your arms just below your chest, tipping your chin toward the long rack of dresses that extends past where the two of you stand.

Minhyuk's gaze skates along the rack and he follows it to the window before turning back to you.

With that damn smirk on his handsomely smug ass face.

"You sure?" He tilts his head and you nod, hesitantly of course.

"If it's decent, yes. But...you have to tell me why it's better than any dress I've looked at."

Minhyuk eyes you for a moment, narrowing his gaze thoughtfully before smiling. He didn't want to be in here any longer than he had to be. The lighting was bad, it smelled like old lady, and whatever station they had playing overhead spun nothing from this decade or the one before it. Plus he was hungry and had his mouth set on fajitas so he was all for speeding up the process.

"Deal."

You couldn't subdue the anxiety along with the smirk of amusement on your face as you watched Minhyuk skim through the aisles, grazing the dresses with the tips of his fingers in passing. His expression was serious with a scrutinizing scowl on the several options before him, as if he were some sort of celebrity stylist dressing you for the Grammys.

But you followed behind him quietly, trying not to fall too deep into the broadness of his shoulders and the peak of his back tattoo just barely visible from the way his collar slouched.

Eventually, he stops at a section of more formal-looking dresses, his eye going up towards an array of gowns you'd never see yourself in on a good day.

It's a vermillion body-con with a sweetheart neckline and high thigh slit. You could tell from how defined the waistline was that it was very tight and left little to the imagination. Imagining yourself squeezing into that made a giggle bubble from your chest.

"Um...Minhyuk, I don't think.." you begin, silenced when your best friend's eyes light up.

"No...This is it. This is the one." He grins, reaching up immediately to lift the hooked hanger from the rack and pulling the dress away from the others to show you as if you hadn't seen it already.

The pride in his face was borderline heartbreaking and your smile hurt from how forced it was.

"Well?" He furrows his brow expectedly and you struggle to find the words.

"Well, it's...It's very...red." You half cringe and Minhyuk frowns at you as if he's offended.

"You don't like it?"

"No... it's not that I don't like it. It's just so...red.." you blanch and Minhyuk exhales impatiently.

"Yes, you said that."

"Well, you wanted my opinion! There it is.." you chuckle. Minhyuk rolls his eyes with a reluctant smile, breaking character from his serious celebrity stylist mug, and he steps closer to you.

"Yeah, but I thought you'd have more to say. So what if it's red? You like red don't you?"

"You like red. That's the only reason you picked it. Plus did you even check the size? I can't fit that.." you lean closer to examine the tag.

"You think I've been around you all this time and don't know your size? Look.." he scoffs and you ignore him while squinting to read the size printed on the tag.

Much to your surprise, it's your exact size.

Hmm.

"Lucky guess." You muse, all to Minhyuk's satisfaction.

"No such thing, my dear. Now would you like to know why I picked it for you? Or are you gonna keep making assumptions?"

His dedication to the task was adorable and you simply waved your hand, prompting him to carry on.

"Let's hear it." You perk your brow and Minhyuk grunts in amusement before straightening his posture, seamlessly falling back into his role. He clears his throat and you have to tuck your lips to keep from laughing as he sets out to state his reasoning.

"Besides it obviously being the best color in general, your skin just pops in red. I don't know why you don't wear it more often.."

He moves towards you, laying the dress over you as if to confirm his assessment. You tense a little from his sudden closeness, eyes fluttering up to his focused expression, but Minhyuk keeps his eyes low and on the dress draping over your body.

"I know you're shy sometimes about showing too much cleavage but this neckline would accentuate them in a classy way. And the way the zipper is kind of low shows off your pretty back.."

"You think my back...is pretty?" You ask, glancing goofily over your shoulder as if you could see your own back while trying not to giggle. But the moment he turns his eyes on you, the humor fades.

Minhyuk, like most Scorpios, is very seductive and flirty, but not in an overbearing way. He'll watch you for a while and get a read on what makes you smile and how to make you blush. He'll hold eye contact with you when you speak and smile when you look away. When he's feeling bolder than usual (like now), he's not letting you look away. He'll even take your chin and turn you so that you have no other choice but to look at him.

You didn't know why he was looking at you so intently. It was something you often witnessed him do with women he flirted with while you were out. Narrowing his eyes and tilting his head as if he could read their every thought.

But just as fast as he trapped you in his gaze, he blinked. Clearing his throat again, he continues speaking about the dress.

"I also like the slit here. Not too high but just enough for your legs to show when you walk. You shouldn't be hiding those from anyone.."

You look down at the mention of your thighs that were now pressing together subtly, furrowing your brow as Minhyuk spoke.

"..and the way the material has a bit of stretch tells me it's fitted and it'll cling to your body in a way that flatters you. You should wear your hair down for a more sultry look..."

Without warning, Minhyuk pulls the hair tie from your high ponytail and your hair falls around your face in waves that only existed because you let your hair air dry that morning. It falls naturally with a side part and Minhyuk proceeds to tuck the tresses on the less dominant side behind your ear with a satisfactory hum.

"Yeah..like that." He mutters, his eyes on you as if you were a piece of art he was appraising. And then there it was again, that look.

It catches you less off guard this time but the way Minhyuk's gaze drops to your lips has you blushing. You turn away, hiding behind your hair and mimicking the way he'd just tucked it behind your ear in a gesture that makes you blush harder.

"Um...Min... I'm looking for a dress to wear to my sister's graduation. Family and friends. This dress seems more appropriate for a.."

"Date?" Minhyuk completes the thought, his eyes still dark but with his brows lifted curiously. You blink up at him for a moment, stammering over your response.

"Um.Yes. I mean..yeah. I can't wear this for a family event. Id look crazy.." you shake your head, reaching for the dress hanger so that you can put it back where it belonged. Minhyuk lifted the dress out of your reach as he kissed his teeth.

"You'd look stunning. What are you talking about?"

You drop your arm with a sigh.

"You know what I mean. Don't get me wrong, the dress is gorgeous. Too gorgeous really. I just have no clue what chance I'd get to wear it.."

"Then just wear it for me. Duh." Minhyuk shrugs.

He said it as plainly as he'd suggest the two of you meet up downtown for drinks or when he'd give you directions on how to do something on your phone. He was always casual but there was something different this time.

For him.

It felt too personal to be casual.

"For you..." you repeat and he nods nonchalantly.

"Yeah..we go out often enough. Maybe one day I'll wanna go somewhere nice and it calls for something more mature.." he backpedals a little, donning that innocent smile of his that could convince you of almost anything.

"Right.." you chuckle after a beat, knowing damn well you knew what he meant. Hell, you felt it, fluttering in your chest and melting between your thighs.

For him...

"It's settled then. I'll get this for you and you'll buy me fajitas. Now let's find something for the graduation so we can get out of here. This music is making me nauseous..." Minhyuk huffs as he drapes the dress over his forearm, turning you around by the shoulder to face the rack of more casual dresses.

You say nothing more about the skimpy red dress he kept in his clutches as you thumbed through several less exciting garments, not really looking at them since your mind recounted what had just occurred between you and one of your closest friends.

Like, knows everything about your sublime dating life and past sexual experiences (good, bad, and embarrassing) type of close.

Has seen you on those bad days, hair and face a mess with mix match socks with a hole in the toe but you just refuse to throw them away and he scolds you every time he sees them ' kind of close.

He knew you. Well enough to know what'd you look good in and want to see it for himself.

And the idea of going out with him wasn't far-fetched either since you two shared meals at restaurants or went to clubs together enough. And he always let you know how you looked, making you blush most times when it was positive.

Which it usually was.

Maybe you were just overthinking this.

Perhaps he was simply implying that the dress he picked for you would look good on you because he knew you. Never mind the fact that you always felt something between the two of you that everyone seemed to acknowledge except you.

And him.

He couldn't have possibly meant anything more by it then...

Right?

🥴

Physically💋:

Minhyuk doesn't really give a damn about societal rules and regulations. He's touchy and handsy with everyone. Usually respectfully but sometimes it's a bit much. If he's with someone he's dating and he wants to kiss them and play in their hair and smack their butt on the street, he'll do it.

He's EXTREMELY territorial (more than the first two), but ironically he's not the jealous type. He can experience the emotion of course but he doesn't feed into it. If anything, it turns him off of it becomes too much of a reoccurring theme in the relationship. So if he's extra grabby in front of other men, it's mainly to keep them away for his temper's sake. Not for your satisfaction. But you better know who you're with too.

"What's wrong?"

The music was loud so you know he didn't hear you the first time you asked. All you knew was that one second you were grinding with a stranger to that one SZA song you can't remember the name of, next you felt a cold grip on your wrist and Minhyuk's venomous glare shooting over your head at the guy who was just about to cop a feel of your ass.

You tried your best not to slur your words when Minhyuk pulled you away from the dance floor so abruptly and you were surprised you could keep up with him in your heels as he led you back to the bar.

"Minhyuk...what the.." you huffed then gasped at the way your best friend's hands clasped at your waist to lift you effortlessly from the ground to perch on the barstool. You blinked in surprise, having never been handled in such a way by him before, and the rest of your sentence dies with the rest of your feelings towards the guy you'd abandoned.

You didn't get a chance to get his name and with all the flashing lights and loud music, you weren't sure if he was even all that cute. He could dance though and he smelled good, things that while sober you'd consider mildly attractive.

Your wingman didn't seem to oppose him approaching you and your group of mutual friends when he asked you to dance.

So what the hell was the issue now?

Minhyuk says nothing to you once he settles next to you at the bar, his eyes on everyone but you as he leans over it. He seemed to be looking for the bartender when you reached over to touch his arm, regaining his attention.

When he looks at you, you lift your brow expectantly because you know he knows what you are thinking. He rolls his eyes, more at himself for causing a small scene than at you, and exhales his visible frustration.

"I don't know...That guy was a creep. I didn't like the way that he was dancing with you." He leaned close to say in your ear, shrugging dismissively when he pulled away. You caught a whiff of his cologne when he did, resisting the slightly inebriated urge to follow him as his words registered.

You tip your head back and pout at his response, recalling the way you were just winding your hips and damn near twerking on Minhyuk after a few shots when you all first got to the club.

Hell, he was always your dance partner on nights out.

"Like how? I dance with you like that all the time.." reiterate and Minhyuk side-eyes you before exhaling sharply through his nose, returning his attention to summoning the bartender.

"That's different." He shouts over the music before mouthing 'water', pointing at you and putting up two fingers when the cute brunette serving up drinks finally made eye contact with him. She nods in understanding and Minhyuk settles against the bar, turning around so his front is now facing the dance floor.

You watched his keen eyes scanning the crowd silently with an undeniable scowl on his face. Then your eyes traveled lower, mapping out the way his silk button-up with nothing underneath that's half tucked in that effortlessly fashionable Minhyuk way.

He's tall and slender, his black jeans hugging his slim legs that seem longer than you'd ever noticed them to be. He'd shed his leather jacket a while ago and it was draped over his forearm as he leaned his elbow against the bar.

He looked good.

Like really good, and it takes some effort to stop yourself from staring at his handsome profile when your waters arrive. That was when Minhyuk turned around, pushing both glasses toward you with a stern look.

"Down both of those.."

In private, he was just about as affectionate as anyone would imagine him to be. Since he thrives off of intimacy, don't be surprised at him taking interest in your grooming and upkeep when things become more serious. Washing your hair. Painting your nails. Hell, I could even see him wanting to shave you because he's an expert at it and will ensure you don't have any ingrown hairs or bumps when he does it. I bet he's very nurturing when you're not feeling well or a little tipsy after a night out as well...

"I'm not helpless Min, I can manage..." you fuss as you watch your best friend remove your heels for you.

You were now back at your apartment, club night coming to an end after Jooheon almost punched a guy for looking at his girl too long.

You lived close and within walking distance of the clubs and bars you frequented, so it wasn't odd for Minhyuk to crash at your place when you insisted he was too drunk to find his way home.

Tonight, however, Minhyuk didn't seem to be in much of a drinking mood, not partaking in any of the shots from earlier and keeping close to you after making sure you drank some water. So when he stuck around after using your bathroom, you wondered vaguely why he wasn't preparing to head out.

Instead, he was kneeling on the floor in your living room, handling your feet with care contrasting the way he pulled you away from the dance floor and picked you up to set you on that barstool. You were standing so you had to balance with a hand on his shoulder to keep from wobbling, giggling every time he touched your leg.

"Please. I watched you almost break your neck three times tonight.." he chuckled, removing your other heel with one of his hands gently holding your ankle. It tickled a little, his fingers grazing your Achilles, and you had to bite down to keep from laughing.

"You did not." You roll your eyes.

Admittedly, you were still a little tipsy despite chugging that water and walking up the busied streets with the cool night air hitting your face. Minhyuk stayed to your side then too, gripping your hand the moment he noticed you struggling to walk straight.

"I did. Pretty sure I saved your life once or twice tonight." He looks up, your bare foot in hand. You tried to ignore the feeling in your seeing him from this vantage point, kneeling with his adoring gaze on your face, your leg lifted and your bare foot cradled in his big hands.

"I...I'm a pro in heels. Drunk or sober.."You stammer defensively and Minhyuk scoffs, shaking his head as he sets your foot on the carpet and stands. Doubling in height, he towers over you, looking down his nose in a way that has your ankles feeling weaker than they did in those damned high heels.

You blink up at him, and he silently searches your eyes for everything and nothing all at once, his lips parting slowly.

"Whatever you say...here." He says finally, tipping his chin in a gesture for you to sit and the both of you plop down onto the couch

You exhaled in tandem as you stared at the ceiling, and that cozy silence was instrumented by the swinging blades of your ceiling fan and the ticking clock in the distance.

The night replays in your head in a blur of moving lights, 808s pounding with the warmth of a familiar touch never too far away. The touch at the small of your back guides you through the crowd or curls at the bend of your arm to steer you out of potential harm's way.

Even if it said harm was just a few drunken patrons too caught up in the atmosphere to care if they bump into you.

The touch brushing the hair from your face habitually when it threatened the view of your eyes when talking over the music, his hooded gaze dropping occasionally to read your lips.

Minhyuk's touch, while you assumed it to be platonic, always made you feel protected and cherished. Like if anything stepped in your path, Minhyuk would be the one to stand between it and you. Years of knowing him to be the brotherly type to all of his friends, male and female, you often shamed yourself for interpreting the way he treated you as anything more.

Perhaps it's just his personality.

But there were times like now, when the feeling of knuckles strumming softly against the back of your hand as you sat beside him in silence, you couldn't deny the fluttery feeling in your chest that wasn't just friendly.

You tried not to react by keeping your hand still and relaxed, but in an act of pure bravery, you turned it slightly and lifted a finger to nudge his.

That slowly evolved into his finger curling around yours affectionately.

When you turned your head, you found him already looking at you, his eyes soft and vulnerable. And hot.

Like molten metal melting through ice, clouding the air with smoke and steam that makes it hard for you to look him in the eye.

But you surprisingly don't cower away this time.

"What?" You blush with a subtle smirk of amusement. Minhyuk's gaze falls to your lips for a spell, then drags back up to your eyes, sweeping between them as if he were searching for something.

After a long breadth of silence, he smirks too.

"One of your eyelashes is about to come off.." he says flatly, keeping that hot hooded look in the eye focused on your entranced expression that slowly fades as you digested his words.

You immediately lift your hand to your face, blinking and brushing over your lashes with your fingertips.

"What....no it's not, you.." you begin to fuss but fall silent at the feeling of Minhyuk's large hand sliding under the hand you held close to your face.

"Hold still.." he inhales and you freeze on contact, feeling his thumb now brushing over your eyelashes delicately as if to inspect them himself, his features soft yet focused.

He inches closer, squinting as his lips parted slowly. Your eyes fall to them thoughtlessly as you inhale the mint on Minhyuk's breath, and you play it off by just closing them.

"Did you....did you get it?" You ask just above a whisper, mindful of how close Minhyuk's face was to yours.

When you felt his touch idling just shy of your eyelids, his thumb gently sweeping over the apple of your cheek, you opened your eyes.

Finding him even closer than before with the tip of his nose threatening to graze the tip of yours.

Like magnets, your lips are drawn together, his top lip slotting between yours softly in the most tender kiss. You'd imagined, more often than you'd like to admit, that his lips were soft but feeling them against yours put your imagination to shame.

They almost felt like nothing, moving gently as he pecked your bottom lip and alternating so that you could suck his. And he tasted like like mint with a hint of citrus, inspiring you to lean into the kiss for more of him.

You weren't sure if it was the lingering alcohol in your blood or the fact that you were satisfying several years worth of curiosity, but your inhibitions seemed to dissipate the longer Minhyuk's lips moved against yours.

He felt too right, like his lips were made for kissing yours, and nothing else was meant to happen but this.

Sexually💦:

Scorpio. That's the tweet. 🌚😂

Very deep, very intense. Very sensual. Very intimate. There are no secrets (despite him being very secretive in general) with him and there's nothing that you have that he doesn't want to see. So there's no need to be embarrassed. Minhyuk is more attracted to your mind than your body, and your body is a bonus.

He wouldn't be able to choose between your ass or tits. To be frank, his favorite part of you is probably your mouth anyway🥴 He's the type to make you suck his fingers or gag you with them when's hitting it from behind. A fantasy he'd surely gotten off to a few times. More than anything, he loves the sounds you make, and the way your tongue moves. Loves kissing you. He'd kiss you all day if he could.

It didn't take long for things to escalate.

Kissing him alone felt like sex, the way he teased his tongue over your bottom lips without really putting it in your mouth. He knew you wanted it by the way you'd chase him, and he'd pull back a fraction to see the sexy frustration crinkling in your brow.

Touches were bolder now, yours holding him at the neck and shoulder, pulling yourself closer so that your chest was almost flush against his. Minhyuk squeezed you at your waist, his other hand pushing your hair back so that your neck was exposed.

He massaged your nape with his fingers before grasping the hairs there and tugging gently from the root, making you gasp. In doing so, your mouth opens wider and it's the in Minhyuk sought to glide his tongue against yours.

The second he tasted the heady mix of vodka and Sprite still there, he tugged your hair again in reaction.

Much tighter this time and you moan softly into his kiss. Your nails dig into his shoulder when he does it again, moaning loud enough to snap you both out of the bubble of lust forming around you.

Minhyuk pulls away with shining lips parted to breathe, his eyes blinking as he assesses you. You were notably hot and bothered as you stared back at him with whimsical eyes, his shirt clutched in your grasp.

He soothes your scalp with his fingers gently, licking his lips before asking...

"Should we stop?.. because I'll fuck you right here..right now...so if you don't want that...."

He pants with the fragmented statement, his eyes telling you that stopping was the last thing he wanted to do. But there was still concern there.

Concern for your state of mind.

Concern for your feelings.

Concern for your friendship...

Rightfully so. Nothing like this had ever reached this height between you. Amongst the many nights you'd laid next to him in your bed when he'd stay over. Never touching you inappropriately. Never crossing a line, physically at least.

Maybe you should stop...

Aw, Fuck it.

"I do..." you exhale without blinking and with that breathy admission, Minhyuk was given the green light to continue and not much time was wasted on any more smooches when there were layers of clothes keeping him from touching you.

Once free of your halter top that now bunched at your waist, Minhyuk eased you to lay back with his lips busy drawing a line over and under your jaw, down your neck, and towards your chest.

Without a bra to shield the hardness of your nipples from him, they were quickly engulfed by the heat of his mouth. He sucked them just enough to make you squirm before pulling away.

Everything was moving fast but there was a desperation in both of you that didn't mind it. You didn't think this was some drunken impulse you were on and you felt in complete control of yourself.

You watched with wide eyes as Minhyuk stood from the couch to finish unbuttoning his shirt and his pants next. You were shimmying out of your jeans and panties by the time he was shirtless, milky skin and broad shoulders dulling your focus on everything in the room that wasn't him. While slender, Minhyuk had the best balance of lean muscle in his arms and chest, cinching down to a small waist and the faintest hint of washboard abs.

He held an otherworldly beauty that felt unreal at times and you're left stunned and blinking up at him as you waited.

Minhyuk dropped his shirt to the floor before reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, fishing out the shining gold packet from the leather billfold.

Of course, he had a condom, you thought. You were glad since you weren't even considering it. Raw sex wasn't something you'd commonly do with someone new but nothing about being with Minhyuk felt new since you'd secretly thought about being with him this way for far too long.

Knowing the fantasy was bout to become a reality has you shifting on the cushions, biting your lip as your walls clenched in anticipation, thighs clamping shut to keep from exposing how ready you already were.

As if you could.

The second you were completely bare in front of him, Minhyuk paused. He takes in the full view of you in the dim lighting of your small living room, the lines of your body, and the soft glow of your skin.

His eyes dropped to the apex of your thighs, the part of you that you were trying to hide, feeling a little shy now that you were fully exposed. This makes him huff out a short humorless breath as he resumes undressing.

Eyes locked on yours, Minhyuk's black jeans and Calvin's became a pile on the floor as he stepped out of them with the corner of the condom slotted between his teeth.

You couldn't keep from looking down at the girth and length dangling towards you, veiny and bobbing as Minhyuk moved to rejoin you on the couch. You had zero expectations of how big your best friend's dick was, curiosity and attraction aside, but you weren't expecting that. Your insides clenched again at the thought of all of that being inside of you and you could feel the excitement seeping from your heat as he got closer.

He's on his knees before you with his hands on yours, and you separate them slowly to allow Minhyuk between your thighs.

As shameless as you were ogling his goods before, Minhyuk stares at your pussy, the ombre of nude and pink blending from your lips to your leaking slit. Your clit peaked from the hood, swollen and ready for stimulation and your skin shined from the slickness of your arousal.

You were just as ready for him as he was for you.

He ripped the condom wrapper between his teeth skillfully, spitting the sliver of foil away before rolling the latex over himself. It was all done so smoothly that you'd barely take a breath once he lined himself up with your entrance.

"And you want this?.." he repeats his apprehension from before with this secondary request for consent, the fat mushroom tip of his dick covered in the thinnest layer of latex rubbing up and down over your vulva. His head bumps over your clit and you shudder, nodding at him with lips parted in an anticipated moan.

"I want you... I've always wanted you..." you admit breathlessly with earnest eyes on his much to Minhyuk's relief.

You couldn't have said anything more necessary.

He enters you then, slowly and stretching you with the newness of his shape. The girth and curve of him that was foreign to your body, but never far from the deepest part of your mind. Countless nights when you were alone and the coolness of the sheets kept you company, you thought about what it would be like to feel Minhyuk's body against yours.

To feel him inside of you, rolling his hips back and forth, driving you crazy with his tip grazing your cervix over and over. He'd only been inside you a minute and you could already feel yourself unraveling.

Maybe you were still a little drunk, sober for sure on the walk home but intoxicated by the way Minhyuk handled you. Kissing you like his tongue was marinated in whiskey.

It felt like a dream until you felt his fingers pinching your nipple.

"Ah.." you gasp, barely keeping up with all the sensations attacking you. Your blurred vision regains focus on the source of the shadow looming over you. Minhyuk's dark fringe hung over his forehead as he moved, and he paused only to flip his hair back so that he could see you properly.

It shouldn't have been so sexy but your lip catches between your teeth at the sight of him and Minhyuk smiles.

"You're so perfect..." he mumbles, using the hand he'd tweaked your nipple with to smooth your hair from your face. It almost seemed like he meant to only say it in his head but he was too caught up in the moment to keep it to himself.

You crease your brow at the unexpected compliment but quickly forget about it when Minhyuk sweeps you deep. He ups the rhythm in the snap of his hips and cups your breast against his palm to hold you as an anchor, using his other hand to push your leg back. You were sure you were drunk on him now, feeling more sensitive and ignited with every second he was stroking you.

He fucks you harder now, drilling you deep into your couch cushions until you explode all over it and him, crying his name as he leaned in to silence you with his lips.

Minhyuk seems like the kinky type. Role play, bondage, some choking and spitting-in-the-mouth action if he's that turned on. (🥴) But he enjoys making love more than the theatrics. He is a lover after all, more than likely conceived around Valentine's Day. He wants to prolong your pleasure by edging you and teasing you until you're on the verge of insanity. He loves equal participation though. Don't be a pillow princess with this man please, it turns him off.

And once he gives in and lets you have it all, he gives 1000%. If you don't cum, he doesn't cum. Period.

The two of you lay there, spent and naked on your living room couch. The clock ticks and the ceiling fan creaks, the only sign of time passing despite you feeling like you're suspended in it.

You, running your fingers through his hair with heavy eyelids and him with his face between your breasts and listening to your fluttery heart and trapping your body in his arms.

"You know... it's about damn time..." his chin wags against your sternum and you hum questioningly, fingers stalling their hypnotic dance over his scalp.

Minhyuk lifts his head to look at you with that damned cheeky smile of his.

"...you admitting how much you've wanted me this whole time...Took you long enough." He grins wider and you mush his head playfully.

"Oh brother.." you roll your eyes, attempting to wriggle free from Minhyuk's embrace. It's useless since his dead weight was much more than you could lift.

"Oh No no... can't call me that anymore. That would be gross...To be fair, I never saw you as a sister anyway but I digress.." he chuckles and you don't even resist smiling this time.

"Oh shut up..." You mush him in the head again and Minhyuk only leans into your touch, ending in an affection caress. His eyes soften and you melt under them, sighing in defeat as you pushed ran your fingers through his silky dark tresses.

"...and don't even act like I'm the one who was taking forever to admit anything. You're the one who never dropped a hint that you were into me before..." you add, only for Minhyuk to scoff.

"I gave you every hint in the book...You just didn't catch on." He lifts his brow matter of factly and you were stumped, knowing he was probably right.

It wasn't that you didn't notice but more that you didn't want to be wrong. Having a suspected thing with your best friend and ignoring it versus being humiliated by his possible rejection was worth wasting all this time.

Had you known the dick was this good though, you might have risked it sooner.

Just sayn....

"So now what?" You ask him after a beat, pulling your attention from his smoldering sex eyes to stare at the ceiling. Minhyuk smiles knowingly, resting his cheek between your breasts again with your hand still stitched in his hair.

"Now?..well, I guess you'll have to let whoever thinks you're available know that you're not anymore. And I'll do the same..."He shrugs his shoulders. You chuckle at his nonchalance, as shifting the entire dynamic between the two of you would be as simple as sending out a few texts to break a few hearts. Surely more on his side than yours.

"Oh? That's it?.." you sarcastically inquire and Minhyuk continues.

"Yep...Then we have to tell people. Our families, friends. That guy who drizzles extra caramel in your frappuccino with no charge at Starbucks."

"Oh yeah, definitely Starbuck's guy." You joke and you can feel Minhyuk's cheek rising against your skin.

"Yeah fuck that guy...anyway. And then I suppose I should take you out somewhere. Not a club or bar or some Mexican joint during happy hour. Like actually wine and dine you so you don't think I just want you for your body. Now that I've had it, there's no going back. But Y'know...proper boyfriend stuff."

You were grinning ear to ear at everything he said until then. Now you were surprised, your smile fading as you lifted your head. Minhyuk does the same when he feels you tensing, his expression calm and expectant when he looks at you.

"What?" He asks, feigns innocence, smiling softly and you blink at him as if you were dumbfounded.

"Boyfriend? Skipping straight to that are we?" You joke weakly and Minhyuk shrugs again in the way he does.

"Well..yeah. I prefer to be in actual relationships with women I have feelings for. With a woman I actually love and admire, that knows me better than anyone. That loves the weird-flavored drinks on the menu and can't walk for shit in heels when she's drunk. Or sober. That isn't afraid to hold my hand in a crowded room even though people are looking. That acts all shy and self-conscious even though I know she knows she has no reason to be. But if it's too much for you, I can settle with just a boy who's your friend...best friend...that fucks you and stuff...for now."

"Boyfriend is fine. I mean...I prefer boyfriend as well." You blurt, pausing to clear the thickness of emotion in your throat. before Minhyuk could lengthen his tangent. He smiles, pushing up your body to plant a soft kiss on your lips and pulling away before he's tempted to drown you in his absinthe again.

Opting to cuddle naked with you in the middle of the living room, Minhyuk goes back to nuzzling your breasts like they were pillows.

"Mmhm." He hums affirmatively, acting unaware of the shimmer in your eyes.

You swallowed your emotions and relaxed back into the silence, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully.

"I suppose I have a reason to wear that dress now. Since you seemed to like it so much.."You tease just as you are sure Minhyuk is on the brink of falling asleep.

He grunts against your chest, rubbing his cheek over your heartbeat until he's cozy.

"Hmm...Or you could just be naked...I'd like that too."

Love Language:

Acts of service and Words of affirmation. Tell him his handsome and adorable and talented. He doesn't need it per se but he appreciates being seen by YOU. Because he for sure sees you. Minhyuk has a take-over spirit and he gets things done so be ready for him to snatch that jar out of your hands so he can open it. Or if you're having issues with customer service over the phone, hand it to him and you'll end up with a refund or a free month of service lol

I can see him being big on gifts and grand gestures as well. So holidays and birthdays will always be special with him...

Pet names/Terms or endearment🥰:

He'll tell you you're pretty, gorgeous, beautiful often. That'll probably just end up being your pet name while together. He's not much of a 'babe', 'honey', or 'darling' type.

a/n: i added his military pics because this is legit the most boyfriend/husband/baby daddy this man has ever looked and im standing on that lol

#monsta x smut #minhyuk #monstax imagines #monsta x fanfic #shownu #hyunwoo #changkyun #hyungwon #jooheon #kihyun #minhyuk smut #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #wonho

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