mary-loves-to-read

[mary-loves-to-read]

🐰

[mary-loves-to-read]

my left stroke just went viral! {l.mh}

Right stroke put lil’ baby in a spiral.

— Rating: E for Explicit

— Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

— Author’s Note: I gave it a funny Kendrick Lamar title but it’s not a crack fic I promise. You can thank (or harass) @hanjibug about this fic bc it’s her fault. This is unedited largely because formatting this motherfucker was a bitch from the tenth ring of hell.

— Warnings; smut, creampie, established relationship, husband!minho, wife!reader, kids (mentioned), pregnancy (mentioned), breeding kink (lowkey), their son is called MJ (but it’s not Minho Jr, his name is Min Joon and he’s 6 [tho that’s irrelevant]), trying to conceive, barely there d/s dynamics, uh…. dirty talk, banter, both Min and reader are desperate babies, oral (f! rec), praise, multiple rounds, short refractory periods, pet names (reader is baby, honey, wife, and one instance of ‘mama) (minho is min and one or two instances of ‘daddy’), and i think that’s all!

“Baby,” Minho calls from the main entry way, “I’m home!”

Silence follows, causing him to furrow his brows as he doffs his shoes and heavy winter attire. Usually you answer right away, even come running into view, but when neither occurs, your husband begins to suspect the worst. In an attempt to quell his growing worry, he calls for you again.

“Baby?” No answer.

He walks further into the home, peering around corners and looking all around for any sight of you. Finding nothing, he treks up the stairs, hoping that you are be in the shower or somewhere that the sound of his voice doesn’t reach.

“Honey? Where are— you?” he chokes the last part of the sentence out, blinking heavily at the sight the greets him the second he turns into the threshold of your shared bedroom.

“Hi, Min,” you purr.

“Hey, Baby,” your husband replies, hands immediately reaching to undo the belt holding his trousers up. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

You’re dressed in the same lingerie you wore the night the two of you were wed, sprawled across the bed, illuminated by the deep red of your LED lights. Something is certainly going on and Minho is determined to find out what.

“Baby,” he clucks his tongue, moving to now undo the buttons of his shirt, “Don’t lie to me.”

“Our anniversary —“

“Was two months ago,” he finishes for you, causing you to glare.

“Yes, thank you for that,” you sigh, but you won’t give up that easy. “Anyways, our anniversary was a bust because MJ was sick and this is the first time we’ve had a kid free home since.”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms, eyes glued to your figure.

The lingerie fits you still, even after all these years. Sure, it’s a little tighter is some areas, signifying that you’ve filled out since marrying him. The lacy, white fabric strains around the fullness of your breasts and the strings of the panties dimple the flesh of your hips, but it’s all a non-issue of course. Your body has grown— nourished and housed Minho’s child, given him the second greatest gift he could have ever asked for; he loves you all the same, maybe even more.

“I wanted us to celebrate,” you tell him, shifting atop the sheets. “Maybe,” you pause, looking into his eyes as you feel tendrils of embarrassment lick at your throat.

“Maybe?” Minho parrots, fully slipping out of his shirt. The motion distracts you, and your husband watches you with a poorly hidden smirk as you rub your thighs together. “Maybe, what?”

Your mouth runs dry as your husband slips his pants down his thighs, letting them pool at his ankles before he steps out of them. He stands before you in a state of undress similar to yours, but still you feel shy. Almost like you are seeing him (nearly) bare for the first time instead of the millionth. Minho is built broad and lithe, muscles having softened a bit with age and fatherhood, but still present. He is still firm where you are soft, and you ache to have him on you, in you, so that you may become one.

“Maybe, what, honey?”

Feline eyes glimmer with mischief as he stalks closer, sending your pulse into hyperdrive and your heartbeat into your clitoris. Your husband is so sexy when he’s on the prowl; it strums the chords of the basest, most primal parts of your arousal. You never thought your body would be this in-sync with another human, never imagined feeling the type of pleasure Minho gives you even when he’s not touching you. The lips of your cunt grow heavy, dampening quickly with the essence of your desire. Minho hasn’t touched you once, he’s only just come in contact with the bed, and you are already wet and throbbing.

“Well?”

You gulp, eyelashes fluttering. “Maybe,” you breathe, tracking Minho’s movements. “Maybe we could get to work on MJ’s request for a sibling.”

In a flash, Minho is on the bed and over you, strong body pressing you into the mattress. He’s got tunnel vision, a one-track mind, brain filled with images of you heavy with child. He shudders, cock hard between his thighs at the thought. You’re beautiful now, just as you were when Minho met you, but Minho thinks you’re absolutely stunning while pregnant. His attraction to you intensifies when you are full and round, carrying life — physical proof of his claim — within your womb.

“Is that a yes?” you ask, widening the part of your thighs so your husband can fit between them.

“Of course it’s a yes,” Minho rasps, leaning down to peck your mouth. It morphs into something more hedonistic very quickly, the urgency of Minho’s desire showing through.

“You never have to ask that of me,” he rasps, lips covering the expanse of your throat, “Say the word and I’ll give you as many babies as you desire; I’d keep you pregnant for the next decade if that was your wish.”

“Min,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he kisses down your chest. “You mean that?”

He pauses his descent to look up at you, eyes blackened with his need for you. He kisses the place above the band of your panties, sucking along the skin of your pelvis without averting his gaze. Your pussy is drenched between your legs, swollen despite being untouched. You squirm under the heat of your husband’s gaze, but know better than to urge him on before he is ready.

His fingers curl over the strings of your panties, pulling them away from your skin so he can strip you of them. He still hasn’t answered you but you can wait, especially when it means you’ll be one step closer to having that thick cock filling you to the brim.

“I’d have given our son several siblings already if I’d known you wanted more.”

The words reverberate against your eardrums as Minho wastes no more time before taking your cunt in his mouth. Your slick tastes like ambrosia, warm and tangy on his tongue. Your full-bodied scent fills his nostrils and takes over his senses, immersing him in a haze of want that grows thicker the longer he laps at your cunt.

“Oh,” you moan, slapping the mattress with your palms. “Min, I’m good. Y-You don’t have to— fuck!”

“I need to,” he moans, licking around the engorged flesh of your clit, humming deeply when he feels it pulse against the flat of his tongue.

“Tiny cunt, yeah?” he babbles, hips rocking against the mattress as he drives you closer to the edge. “Little pussy has to be sloppy enough to fit me inside.”

Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull with the words your husband voices. You squeeze your thighs against his head, toes slipping along his broad shoulders as you focus on the feeling he’s providing. You whine when you look down only to find him looking at you and you whine even louder when you look beyond his face to see his hips circling on the mattress, a mimicry of the deep grinding he’ll be doing inside your cunt when the time comes.

“Min, d-don’t,” you gasp, grinding your pussy against his face. You feel hot, high on pleasure and need. “Don’t c-come. Fuck me, please? Come inside me.”

“Fuck,” he curses, sucking the fat of your clit into his mouth. His hips grind to a halt as he focuses all his energy on flicking his tongue against your clit. He refuses to waste a single drop of his seed outside of your cunt where it belongs.

“Comin’,” you slur, pulling at your own hair as you lock him between your thighs. “Daddy, comin’!”

He hums deeply, feeling your hole clench and spasm against his chin. Your clit twitches rapidly against his tongue and all he can do is suck lightly and lick at it gently, helping you ride out the wave before he manhandles you onto his dick. He wrings you dry, it feels like, heavy kisses being pressed against your mound as he pulls away.

A few moments pass and you find yourself naked, husband fitted back between your thighs like he never left. Minho’s cock is swollen between his thighs, menacing and arousing at the same time. Arousal drips from the head and onto your cunt as Minho slides it between your folds, rubbing against you to gather wetness to make the stretch easier. Your husband is not a small man by any standard, yet you want every single inch of him anyway.

He’s silent as he presses the tip to your entrance, letting the head slip in and stretch you out before he pulls it back out again. The cycle repeats several times, each one making you gasp and pout, wriggling in disappointment. Your hole feels open now, clamping down on nothing. Your pussy is achingly empty; it needs to be properly filled. Time passes slow as molasses as your husband toys with your cunt. It makes you whiny and impatient, but Minho’s dark stare keeps you docile and compliant.

“S’good for me,” he rumbles, finally— finally sinking into you like you’ve wanted. “My pretty, little wife.”

“A-Ah,” you hiccup, jaw dropped as the press of cock against your walls wrecks your mind.

“Tight,” Minho hums, buried deep. “Warm,” he grins, crowding into your space so that all you see is him. “Perfect.”

If you weren’t flushed with heat before, you would definitely be now. The praise stokes flames in your belly, has you arching your back and tightening around Minho’s cock something fierce. Your dazed brain is trying to come up with words to say back, trying to formulate a thanks. Everything is all jumbled and fuzzy though, scrambling even more when Minho begins to thrust.

“G’na fuck you so good,” he tells you, movements slow and measured. “Keep you on my cock all night, have you comin’ over and over.”

The beginnings of another orgasm begin to well up inside you. Your moans spill out of you in loud, choppy sobs, filling the space around you and Minho. He adds his own rambles and groans, pushing wetness out of your pussy with every thrust of his hips. You come around him messily in near-record time, mumbling your way through it as your pussy milks his cock.

It doesn’t take long for Minho to follow suit, your cunt becoming wetter with your orgasm, hotter and more demanding. He holds you by the chin as he fucks you to his own completion, making sure your eyes stay locked on his as he growls his way through climax. His cum fills you with an added warmth, marking your insides in a way that no man other than your husband ever has.

“Th-Thank y-you,” you slur, insides fervently suckling at your husband’s length, greedy for everything he has to offer. You press at your belly, smiling at him dopily.

Minho feels his cock twitch, clearly interested in round two though it’s only been mere seconds since the end of round one. The two of you are sticky and sweaty, but the slight discomfort of it does nothing to deter his arousal. He’s feels like he’s been drugged, honestly, like someone magically injected Viagra into his veins. One look at your knowing smirk has him rearing back his hips and sliding back into you, not sure if he’s fucking his cum into you or pushing it out of you and not really caring.

“All night,” you coo, just as dazed. Your body works on autopilot, hands pulling at your own legs until you’re spread wide-open, toes curling again Minho’s sides. “You said a-all night.”

His hands soon replace yours in holding your legs in place, allowing you to grasp and pull at him as you please. Your creamy, little cunt spasms and squelches, singing a tune that makes Minho’s dick bob and spurt where he’s buried inside you. Your pussy is so damn good; a hot, little glove that Minho plans to ruin by dawn.

“That’s right, Mama,” he confirms with a nod, reaching to circle your clit with his thumb.

“All damn night.”

© hyungszn 2024; please do not copy, steal, repost, modify, translate, or recommend on any other platform without my permission!

[mary-loves-to-read]

☆°. — 2024; in fics !!

since the year is coming to an end (and spotify wrapped finally came out) i wanted to make a short, personal tumblr wrapped, shouting out my fav fics i've read this year; to both recap AND animate other ppl to read them as well!! it's not a ton, but it's the fics that stayed with me the most <3

one shots

☆ ; 22 strokes ; @cb97percent || MYYY fav piece of short erotic literature this year. i've grown out of reading pure smut/ porn without plot and i get soo bored scrolling the smut tags lately, but god THIS was absolute perfection. personally, for me, good smut is when i'm reading more than just nasty fucking; and this definitely delivered. i also remember the visuals so well, like the first sentence i read i was instantly pulled into the same view i had when i first read it!! 10/10 would reread it a million times and not get bored!!!

☆ ; starry night ; @astraystayyh || AHHHH i remembered the feeling i had while i read this INSTANTLY like it catapulted me right back!!! like this is JUST the romantic shit i LOVE and yearn and long for, and reading it tore my heart APART i loved it so so much omg. i kept remembering this one shot from time to time when i visited museums OR looked at my starry night print above my bed!! i need to reread this fully next time i see a van gogh hehe

☆ ; wherever you are ; @hyunverse || god i remember this hurting me just in the right places and then flicking my heart back again. friends to lovers will always be my fav genre of anything EVER but the little twist added to this made this fic SOOO unique and fun?? like the way it's written in parts i enjoyed SO much, the continuous timeline of them growing up together, the writingggg??? this one shot inspired me to a fic of my own (which i've never finished </3) and i feel like that says enough about how much it affected me 🫶🫶

☆ ; the snow falls apart, we fall apart ; @/astraystayyh || i sobbed over this one. SO so much. the time where 'long for you' came out was so crazy because everyone wrote their hearts out and this was amongst my favourites i've read. the visuals are so impressive because i (once again) remember this one shot so vividly before my inner eye, like i remember laying in bed and reading this, close to tears and everything. the longing and unsureness and the unspoken love in this has haunted me for soooo long it all came right back when i saw this fic in my reblogs. i wanna reread it so bad actually especially since it's getting so cold and grey now 😭

serieses

☆ ; super bored ; @straywrds || okay. OKAY. mari, you're already fucking know what i'm about to say because i am annOYING when it comes to this series; but it is, no lying, the best i have ever read. if this was a full on novel i wouldn't even question it a second, and it would be no doubt one of my favourites. when i scrolled through my reblogs to check what fanfictions had struck with me i already knew super bored would be included because it would have been ILLEGAL not to. it was also the only piece i knew by heart, with no need of rereading a first sentence to remember the feeling i had when i first discovered it; i only need a quick glance at blue hydrangeas and frogs for the feelings to come back. or when i think of paris. or when i listen to this and this song (je l'aime à mourir was my most listened to song this year... like hello). like this piece has struck me SO incredibly deep and i so so hope that you know that!! (i doubt that you don't.... i was and still am in your asks about it like a leech jfjejd) like i truly and genuinely don't believe that there's another reader who loves super bored as much as me, the way my throat formed a clump when i skimmed over the tags i wrote!!! i miss the universe so so much, i hope (without any intended pressure, of course) that you get the time and motivation to finish it at some point, even if it's in 10 years time!!! after yapping so much i wanted to truly thank you for writing and sharing this piece with us; i hold it dear to my heart, every single day <3

[mary-loves-to-read]

「Inferno」 · Chapter 11

DAY 24: PASSION ⋮ PART 4 ➥ Hyunjin can't tell hell from heaven when he surrenders himself to you.

➥ 1.7k (~7 min. read)

⚠ — Explicit sexual content (see masterlist for more before reading)

Would she like it when she’s conquered by her man?

Yes. Yes, she would.

Keep reading

「© 2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

[mary-loves-to-read]

Hi can you do a smut/comfort fic abt Chan or Lee know where reader is scared to take off her bra during sex bc she is insecure about having a small chest?

pairing: Minho x fem!Reader

t/w: hurt/comfort ; smut ; fluff ; nipple play ; breasts worship ; piv sex ; oral sex (f!rec) ; body insecurities ; we love all type of tits ; praise ; second time intimacy ; aftercare ; hickeys ; bites ; reader’s ex is an asshole ; dirty talk.

w/c: 3.2k

a/n: always remember, girlies, that Lino is an ass lover (and your tits are as beautiful as his in those pics, whatever size they are) (someone give that man a bra pls).

Closer to you

Mine❤️: Netflix and chill?

You: 9pm at my place?

Mine❤️: Perfect 😉

You both knew it wasn’t really going to be just Netflix and chill.

But at least you can say you tried.

You were 30 minutes into the movie when Minho’s hand started caressing your thigh, slowly moving upward.

By the 40-minute mark, you were kissing, and by 50 minutes, things had heated up. You were straddling his lap, rocking your hips back and forth without a set rhythm, while his strong hands guided your movements, fingers sinking into your skin.

Right now, neither of you even realize the movie is still playing on the TV, too absorbed in each other.

Your boyfriend’s hands roam over your body for the second time, still unfamiliar with the warmth of your soft skin beneath his fingers.

His breath is hot on your neck. You moan softly, arching your back as he kisses you deeply.

His breathing grows heavier as he barely brushes the tips of his fingers along your inner thigh, inching dangerously close to your core, still covered by your underwear, that throbs in anticipation— only for him to pull away, denying you his touch.

He sits you on the bed, and you’re facing each other as his wet lips tease the delicate skin of your neck, occasionally sucking gently.

You’re so lost in the feel of his lips and the warmth of his breath on your skin that you don’t even notice his hands wandering along your back— until you hear the click of your bra being unhooked.

You immediately realize, your eyes flying open as you pull away from him. He pauses, confused, while your hands dart to cover the cups of your bra to keep it from slipping off. That’s when he realizes.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologizes, instinctively shifting slightly on the bed to put some distance between you. “I should’ve asked you first, I’m sorry.” His eyes avoid meeting yours.

You let out a silent, shaky breath and close your eyes for a moment.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You say in a quiet voice. Part of you wants to do everything to make him feel better; the other part… can’t. You can’t because you can’t take off your bra for him.

But when his eyes meet yours again and then he notices your hands so protectively covering your chest, his expression hardens a little.

Because you’re in an intimate situation together, a moment where you should demonstrate complete trust in each other, yet you don’t seem to trust him enough to fully show your body. And why is that?

He feels guilty for acting before asking, because it’s the second time for him too, and he wants to show you respect every second you’re together and make sure you enjoy everything you do, building a safe space for you. But at the same time, you don’t seem to feel safe with him right now, and that hurts him.

“You don’t want to take it off?” The words come out harsher than he intended.

It’s okay to want to see your girlfriend’s body, right?

“I think it’s sexier this way, you know?” You grin, tentatively pulling down the cups of your padded bra to reveal more skin. “See?” You give him a lustful look, but your gaze falters when you see that he’s not convinced by your words at all.

He tentatively moves closer to you, brushing his hands over your hips ever so gently, as if he’s afraid he might break you into a thousand pieces, his hands trembling slightly. “We can try something like that,” he promises, “But right now, I’d like to see you, to see your beautiful body fully. I want to touch every inch of skin I’m allowed to,” he breathes against your lips. His hands rest on your back near the straps of your bra, touching them gently with his fingers. “Can I?” he whispers, looking into your eyes.

You can’t resist that gaze. You sigh and look away.

“What’s wrong?” He pulls back, already having sensed that something’s off, “You can tell me.”

One thing Minho has learned from your relationship is that communication is key: something you’ve taught him and something you’ve worked on a lot, and it’s in moments like this that he realizes just how important that is.

You take a deep breath. “Can you fasten my bra?” you ask gently. You’d feel more comfortable if it was closed, instead of having to hold it with your hands.

He nods and moves closer to you, wrapping his arms around your chest to fasten it, leaning in slightly to get a better view of your back.

You avoid his gaze. “I’m afraid you won’t like them when you see them,” you admit softly, hoping he won’t hear. “I don’t want them to be a turn-off for you.” You say, embarrassed.

“Why would you say that?” he asks, incredulous. “Why would you think I wouldn’t like them?”

If he had something else to add, you don’t let him continue. You let out a frustrated sigh because he just doesn’t get it. “They’re small, Min,” you snap. “All you see is the padding from the bra. There’s nothing underneath.”

Yours is a warning, a question: “Are you really sure you want to see?”

And he’s truly shocked and confused. It’s not because he wants more from you or is unhappy with what you’ve shared— no; he simply didn’t expect it.

Maybe he stays still in his thoughts for a second too long, because your hurt voice snaps him back. “I can always keep the bra on, like I said.”

That’s how you felt with your ex after he complained about “not being able to touch or feel anything” and how “guys like boobs, you know? The bra makes them look bigger at least.”

Your eyes lift to your boyfriend when you hear him sigh in relief. “That’s why you didn’t want to take it off? You had me thinking the worst.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t apologize.” He takes your hands in his in a comforting gesture, “Listen, I don’t care if your breasts are small, big, or even nonexistent— they’re not the only thing that matters,” he declares. “And that goes for any other part of your body. I don’t love you for your body, baby. I love your body because I love you,” he explains. “You never have to be afraid of showing yourself to me for who you are, no matter what. I love and will always love every part of you; never doubt that.”

Tears well up in your eyes, but you hold them back, not wanting to cry in this moment. He smiles at you with eyes full of affection, cupping your cheeks in his hands and tenderly stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs. You place your hands over his. “You mean that? Are you sure?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been.” He chuckles softly.

You nod. “Okay.”

When he kisses you again, it’s initially slow, and you melt into it. It’s so simple, so familiar, but at the same time new. Because this time, there’s that trust you didn’t think you were ready to give him.

And yet, here you are.

Reaching behind you, you unfasten your bra and sit up on your knees. He gently guides you onto his lap. “You do it.” You tell him, and he nods.

His fingers lightly trace your arm, moving up to softly grasp the straps, slowly sliding them down your shoulders.

There’s something so intimate about this —about you finally letting him see all of you, letting him undress you in a way that whispers your complete trust in him— that his cock almost twitches in his pants.

And it actually does twitch when he finally gets to see them. And fuck, he thinks he’s never been more in love with you than he is right now —or more turned on, for that matter.

He stares, admiring them for what feels like an eternity to you. Your cheeks burn as you feel his fingers inching closer. “Can I?” he whispers, his voice a quiet plea hiding a deep need and desperation to touch you.

A simple “yes” is all it takes, and his hands and lips are on you, caressing and kissing every inch of skin as if it’s the last time he’ll ever get to feel you. Yet, he remains gentle, slow, tender.

His tongue brushes your nipple once, and the moan that escapes you has his brain short-circuiting.

He pulls away from you and gently lays you down on the bed, looking at every part of you. Your hands itch with the need to cover yourself, but you keep them in place.

He looks at you with dreamy eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he says, lowering himself onto you and kissing your collarbone. “Stunning,” he kisses the skin just above your nipples. “Fuck, you turn me on so much, you have no idea.”

You place your hands on his muscular chest and slowly slide them down, grazing his nipples with your fingers and touching his abs, caressing the scar he’s so insecure about but that you find hot on his body, tracing his V-line before reaching the erection trapped in his boxers.

“I think I have an idea.” You chuckle, stroking him a couple of times before pulling your hand away.

“Let me show you, so you have more than just an idea, hmm?” His lips curl into a mischievous grin.

“And how would you do that? Tell me.” You tease him.

“Oh?” He’s surprised by your playfulness, but he’d be lying if he said his dick didn’t twitch at that. “I’ll fuck you so that you won’t be able to sit down without thinking about me for a while,” he whispers in your ear, his voice low and sensual. “I want to make you lose control on my dick; go so deep that all the bad thoughts leave your beautiful little head, take away all your worries; I want to make you cry.” Your pussy throbs with anticipation.

You weren’t expecting this. Fuck, he sounds like an expert.

“Do it,” you suddenly feel on the verge of begging. “Fuck me, Min.” Your sudden desperation is so embarrassing, but this is the least of your problems right now.

And he doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls your panties off so quickly you fear they might’ve ripped from the hurried motion.

His lips are on yours, filled with desire. His fingers caress your pussy, then slide two fingers from your clit down to your entrance, where he teases you a little before inserting one finger. He moans into your mouth when he feels how already stretched you are.

“I fingered myself this afternoon,” you admit shyly, “I’m stretched enough for you. Come on, Min— put it in.” You beg.

Minho thinks he’s about to lose the last bit of control he has left. He desperately wants to ask you to explain in detail how you do it, what you think about while doing it, to show him; but right now, you’re both far too impatient.

‘Another time’, he thinks.

His cock slowly enters you, drawing a long, stifled moan from both of you, and Minho has to fight the urge to move to give you a little time to adjust to the intrusion. But you don’t need that.

“You can— you can move. I’m ready. Please.” You beg, your breath heavy, but he needs to check on you a bit more before actually starting to move.

His moans are perhaps louder than yours at first, his cock continuously twitching as it bottoms out completely, before thrusting back in quickly.

Your breathing is heavy. His thrusts aren’t too fast or hard; they feel more controlled, and you love it.

“D-does it feel good?” Minho asks, maybe a little shyly, and you smile and nod.

One of your hands reaches for his next to your head, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist. “Yes, feels good.” You sigh.

He seems relieved by your answer, and you find it so sweet. He has opened up to you before, telling you he didn’t want to disappoint you in bed, but you reassured him it wouldn’t happen. And right now, you’re more sure than ever of your words.

His hand intertwines with yours, which was softly gripping his wrist, and his hips begin to pick up speed.

His eyes are fixed lovingly on yours, and he doesn’t seem to have any intention of looking away. He wants to capture every single expression of pleasure on your face and etch them into his memory. You’re just so beautiful.

“Your body is like… anatomically perfect.” It takes him a few seconds to realize what he just said, and when he does, his hips freeze. His face flushes even redder, and he hides his face against your chest. Where did that even come from?

There’s a brief silence, making him want to pull away and run, but then you giggle softly and look at him with tenderness. “Thank you?” It comes out sounding more like a question.

You bring your free hand to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and lifting his face before pulling it closer to yours, making your lips connect.

It’s sweet, as he kisses you shyly while your hand strokes his hair. This seems to make him feel better, because shortly after, his shyness fades, and his tongue enters your mouth, eager.

His hips start moving again, this time faster and needier.

His lips pull away from yours and begin kissing along your jaw, trailing down to your neck. You tilt your head to give him more room, and he takes a patch of skin into his mouth to suck. Small moans escape your lips and your pussy tightens around his dick, making him moan in return.

He glances at the mark he just left and smirks, giving it one last kiss that makes you hiss.

He then starts kissing your chest. He kisses the skin of your tits, deliberately avoiding your nipples, kissing and licking around them, brushing the spot where you want him the most. Your breath hitches every time he gets close to your buds.

“Min.” You breathe through your teeth, and finally, Minho decides to please you, wrapping his lips around your hard nipple. He sucks eagerly, moving his tongue back and forth quickly. He pulls his lips away, gives it a fat lick, and sucks on it for just a second.

You tighten your grip in his hair.

Minho gasps, “Wan’ to mark them.” He says, groans.

“Do it.” Your words draw a strangled moan from him. “D-do it, Min.”

That shatters the last bit of composure he had left. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder hard, drawing a little blood, and then moves to your breast.

He wraps his lips around a nipple, but this time, he bites down on the skin around it, leaving the mark of his teeth —his presence— and sucks on several patches of skin around it, leaving purple bruises that make you fucking cry out in pleasure.

You’ve never been touched in that part of your body this way, not even by yourself. Minho is the first to have the honor of touching you, feeling you in his hands and mouth, and it’s the thought of that that suddenly brings him very close to his climax.

Minho hides his face in the crook of your neck. “God, your pussy’s so tight ‘n wet.”

You feel his heavy, warm breath against your skin, his mind now focused solely on the sensation of your wet, welcoming cunt.

“Baby,” he calls you, his voice strained.

“Yes?” You breathe.

“I’m going to come.” It’s so cute, really, the way he says it— a sweet, trembling whisper. He’s a little embarrassed and sorry he can’t make you come first, but you’ve already reassured him that it’s okay.

“It’s okay, baby, go ahead.” Your eyes narrow, and you moan as his movements grow faster and harder inside you. You feel his gasps and moans directly in your ear, absorbing every sound.

When you feel his movements becoming sloppier, you know he’s seconds away from coming, so you clench around him on purpose, and he spills with a strangled groan.

It takes him a couple of minutes to recover, leaning on you while trying to steady his breath. You stroke his back and whisper words of praise in his ear until he finds the strength to lift himself back up.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You didn’t come.” He explains.

“It’s okay, Min, really—” you don’t even have time to finish before he moves down, positioning his face above your heat, his hungry eyes locked on it before shifting back to you with the same intense gaze.

“My girl will come, whether it’s on my dick or my tongue.” He proceeds to give a long lick from your dripping entrance all the way to the tip of your core.

You hide your burning face behind your hands. “Min!” You scold him, embarrassed by his words now that they’re said outside the heat of the moment.

He chuckles softly as he spreads your legs wide with his hands.

Just a few minutes later, your hands grip his hair as you ride your high on his tongue, moaning without worrying about who might hear you.

After wiping his face clean of your juices and doing his best to clean you up with wet wipes, he climbs into bed to hold you, intertwining his legs with yours.

“How do you feel?” he asks, gently caressing your arm.

“Good,” you reply, content and satisfied.

“Sorry for the bites,” he says, apologetic, looking at the mark he left on your shoulder, where tiny drops of blood are visible. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you like that.” You can hear the pout in his voice.

“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt,” you giggle. “I actually liked it. I’m fine.” He nods, relieved by your words. “I’m just a little sleepy.” You murmur, your voice thick with drowsiness, feeling your eyes close despite your will.

Your boyfriend gets up so quickly that you immediately open your eyes again. “No, it’s not time to sleep yet.” He lifts you and sits you on the edge of the bed.

“Min, come on!” you protest, but he simply hands you a water bottle from the nightstand.

“You need to drink, pee, and then we have to shower.”

After you finish drinking, you close the bottle and fall back onto the bed. “Tomorrow!” You close your eyes in protest. But he scoops you up bridal style, making you open your eyes and cling to him as he carries you to the bathroom.

You huff and pout, but he chuckles and gives you a quick kiss on the lips before sitting you on the toilet.

“This is embarrassing.” You mutter as he turns on the hot water in the shower.

“It doesn’t have to be, my love,” he winks at you before stepping out, and you stick your tongue out at him once he can no longer see you. “I’m getting some ice for the bites. When I come back, I want to see you in the shower!”

And you just know that you already love him so much.

[mary-loves-to-read]

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 ᯓ★

— ‼️ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ‼️ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴄꜱ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪꜱᴋ. ‼️

⋆ 𝖆banb alternate chtp 18 smut scene - @doitforbangchan [3.5k, abo!au]

⋆ 𝖆ngel of music - @changbunnies [ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ] [5.8k, phantom of the opera!au]

⋆ 𝖊ver lovely - @doitforbangchan [ft. bang chan] [series, faerie prince!au]

⋆ 𝖍aunt me - @1nthedarknessofthenight [ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ] [11.2k, demon!au]

⋆ 𝖘lated- @kisskissbanggang [7.4k, demon!au]

⋆ 𝖙ko - @cb97percent [9k, boxer!au]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⊹☽₊˚.⊹

⏾ — 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[mary-loves-to-read]

「No Holds Barred」 · Sample Story

AUTHORITY FIGURE

➥ Guard!Chris x Warden!Reader (f) — 1.7k (~7 min. read)

➥ Prison AU, Noir, Dark Romance

➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

⚠ — Chris' POV, semi-public sex, obsessive undertones (see the introductory disclaimer before reading)

➥ He has a favor to ask from you and is convinced you won't say no. Because you never have.

★ No Holds Barred is an exclusive prison-themed short story collection made up of 20 entries. This story is publicly available as a taster.

“Can I come in?” I poke my head through the door.

You take one look at me, then beckon me over without a word. I sit down on the uncomfortable chair in front of your desk. You are clearly stressed—must be all the hassle about the transfers from Knockville Federal. Maybe I didn’t exactly pick the right time for a request. 

But this kinda can’t wait.

Keep reading

「© 2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

[mary-loves-to-read]

「I Love You, Man」

➥ Neighbor/Single Dad!Jisung x Single Mom!Reader (f) — 2.7k (~11 min. read)

➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

⚠ — Explicit sexual content.

➥ He is your neighbor and best friend, but maybe you should have been something else all along.

“Shut the fuck up!” you wheezed your lungs out, smacking your thighs while trying to keep the wine glass steady in your hand, “I’m going to soil myself!”

“Good, better out than in. I’m hard at work for your urinary tract health here, man,” he responded seriously, then raised his glass for a toast, “Happy divorciversary.” 

As your laughter died down, your mind wandered, and the past couple of years suddenly flashed before your eyes. 

Keep reading

※ Meaningful interaction helps ensure faster updates as well as more content for you, and it prevents passion projects from being abandoned. Thank you! 💛

「© 2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

[mary-loves-to-read]

♡Dark Cinema - Minho

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: bf! Minho x fem! reader

summary:Your boyfriend has been so busy lately. It will be nice to spend some quiet time alone in a dark theater together. And you know that Minho has a difficult time keeping his hands to himself.

warnings: exhibitionism, humiliation, fingering, dom! Minho, orgasms, squirting

“Movie night!” You tugged at Minho's shirt as the two of you walked into the crowded movie theater together.

Friday nights were always busy, but with the new Deadpool & Wolverine out, people were flocking to the theater in mob-sized groups. Minho stepped to the counter and bought your tickets. He bought popcorn and your favorite candy without even a second thought. You had long ago established that there were certain food groups that were absolutely necessary to consume during a movie, to this rule there could be no argument. So Minho had learned about the salty/sweet combination and never questioned you again.

Your seats were towards the middle so you could get the best view of the film. There was no one beside either one of you, but there were a few couples in front and behind you. You half expected Minho to pick seats more towards the back of the theater to give the two of you more privacy. You turned towards him before the lights went down and leaned into his ear.

“Thank you for this. I love you.” Your voice was soft and warm against Minho's ear. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

He groaned low and you leaned back to face the screen. He replied with a simple, “I love you too.” What he really wanted to say was,

I want to kiss you.

I want to taste you.

I want to make you moan.

I want to feel you squeeze around me.

Minho was desperate. He had been working like a dog for weeks. Every night he got home, you were already asleep. He could feel the blood pumping to his dick every time he looked at you. He needed to have you. Now. He couldn't take it anymore. He started to squeeze your thigh, slowly moving it up towards your most sensitive spots.

“Don't be too loud, princess. We don't want to interrupt the movie for everyone else, do we?” Minho's voice was thick with desire. His hands moved and swayed across the lining of your cotton panties.

You held your breath and tried to keep your whimpers low. The cushion of the movie theater seat was almost pulling you in as you pressed your back hard against it. Minho knew exactly what he was capable of. He loved to see you squirm like this. Like a little bunny with its legs caught in a trap. His breath was coming out in short and uneven huffs as he moved closer to your ear.

That's it, let's see how ready you are for me, princess.” Minho's long, slender middle finger slid beneath the hem of your underwear to the slick folds underneath. His finger dipped inside for a moment, bringing back a long, sticky string of juices to your clit. His index finger joined in on the fun and began to touch and incite along your swollen bud. Your legs squeezed together while you held your breath tight inside your throat. Your mouth was pressed firmly closed. You knew if you parted your lips for even just a second, a desperate, needy little noise would hiss past your teeth and out into the room. Movie goers would hear of the disgusting, perverted woman that moaned and whined inside a theater.

Minho's fingers continued to swirl and move around and inside your cunt. The juices now abundance and spread across your clit. He leaned his head into your neck, mercilessly licking and nibbling your neck until you had no choice but to whimper softly. Some small squeaks of pleading and begging poured from your wet mouth as you dug your fingers into the armrest of the chair.

“Please, Minho…” was all you could muster as your boyfriend's fingers continued to slip and glide in and out of you.

“Please what? Use your words.” Minho let out a soft, taunting chuckle.

Every ounce of your being was screaming and clawing and begging for release. And Minho knew it. He could see it in your twisted expression just how close to the edge you were. He knew exactly how to make you come undone. Like a careful safe cracker, turning the dial a little this way, then a little that way. Until the door swings wide open, revealing the treasure inside.

Minho flexed the muscle in his forearm and allowed his fingers to slide deep into your walls. You clenched around him with a pathetic pull until he was knuckle deep. A possessive pace began as his middle and index finger worked in tandem, hooking their way up towards your belly button and hitting that perfect point that made the sparks in your brain flicker on and off and on again.

He wanted to see what kind of mess you could make in front of all these people, his little princess, his good girl. He wanted to know how unraveled you could get for him. You pressed your hand against your mouth and cried into your palm. Something unholy was happening between your legs and you needed to climb to the top of this ungodly mountain to see what lay on the other side.

“Fuck!” You moaned out loud, in between a car chase scene. The cars on the screen flipped and crumpled onto the unforgiving pavement, while your orgasm seeped and streamed out of you leaving you a limp and boneless mess.

Minho smiled proudly, sliding his fingers from inside your panties and into your mouth. Your mind was so fuzzy and distracted you didn't even fight it, with Minho's soaked fingers dancing along your tongue.

“You taste so good, don't you?”

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry

[mary-loves-to-read]

Mine

MDNI - See Author's Note for background info.

Pairing: bf!Minho x f!reader Content: fluff, smut Word count: 1.4k - unedited TW: Suggestive and explicit content, swearing, pet names [reader is called kitten, baby, jagi, princess, whore], oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, Daddy kink, choking, creampie, praise/degradation (whore, slut)

Soft morning light filters in through the sheer curtains when you wake up, casting faint shadows on the plush duvet under your hand, spilling over the ball of whiskers and fur curled up against your wrist. Blinking to hydrate your bleary eyes, your hand moves to lay on the tawny fur, smiling into your pillow when the cat trills in response. You stroke down her fur, rubbing the tender patch between her ear and eye in the way she loves, closing your eyes when she starts to purr.

The bed shifts behind you, and a hand settles on your hip. Your boyfriend’s chin nestles onto your shoulder with a faint hum. “Wh’ time ‘s it?” Minho mumbles.

You twist your head to press a soft kiss to his temple. “Not sure. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm. Can’t do that.” His hand moves from your hip towards the cat, and you watch the feline shift, stretching up to meet the hand with a big head bump. “Heard Miso’s activation noise.”

A soft laugh snorts out of you. “That woke you up? God, you really are the Cat Daddy.”

Minho lifts his chin enough to bite your shoulder, causing you to giggle. “I do have a weakness for whiny kittens.” He teases, tone thick with double meaning. You shift, turning onto your back to face him better. His hand stays buried in Miso’s fur.

“Lee Minho, are you calling me whiny?” Your brow ticks up, and a smile tugs at his mouth despite his eyes remaining on the cat.

“I would never.”

You narrow your eyes at him, smiling despite yourself, and bring your hand to tuck some hair behind his ear. “How was your flight?”

“Long.”

“Yeah? What time did you get in last night?”

“Late. Yongbok tried to get me to stay at the dorm, but I missed you and Miso too much to wait ‘til morning.” Minho ducks his head to kiss your exposed abdomen where your shirt had ridden up when you moved. “I was glad you didn’t stay up to wait for me.”

Cupping the back of his neck, your fingers twirl in the long edges of his hair. “I tried to, but it seems that all those times you told me not to wait up must’ve conditioned me. I fell asleep faster than I expected.”

He turns his head, finally meeting your eyes. Your hand falls to his cheek with the movement, and your breath hitches. The familiar thrill of his gaze zips up your spine like a lightning bolt. “Good.” 

Minho shifts, pushing off the bed to bring his face up to yours for a smoldering kiss. Your hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer in spite of the way he holds his weight off of you with his elbows bracketing your head. He groans when your legs wrap around him, grinding your core against his growing erection.

“Baby,” you whine into his mouth, hands scrambling to rid you both of your clothes, desperate to touch him, to feel him after so many long, lonely weeks without him. “Need you.”

Minho disconnects from your mouth long enough to rip off his shirt, and then his lips are back on your skin, traveling down your throat to your neck and collarbones. His hands find yours, helping you shove down your shorts and underwear as he shifts off of you far enough to get them off of your ankles.

“Missed you so bad, Kitten,” he murmurs into your jaw as he makes his way back to your mouth. His fingers trail over your core, hips bucking when he grazes sensitive skin.

“I missed you more, my love.” He slips a finger into you, groaning into your mouth at the sensation. A wanton moan spills from you as he curls the finger, finding your g-spot instantly. “Fuck, how- nngh.”

Minho swipes his tongue over yours, rendering you silent, before slipping a second finger in to join the first. You buck up into his hand, desperate for more, but he presses you down with the heel of his hand against your pubic bone, despite the fingers uncurling and curling inside you. “Needy little girl. Be patient,” he hisses, sinking his teeth into your cheek in admonishment and growling faintly. You let out a faint whine but still your body. He releases you, pressing a soft kiss to the bitten flesh. “Behave.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You choke out breathily.

Minho sits back on his haunches, a brow raised as he watches you writhe around his taunting fingers. “Is that what you need, princess? You need your Daddy to take care of you?” He cocks his head, waiting for an answer despite how he knows your head has already begun to empty of coherent thoughts. “Are you already too far gone to answer?”

You shake your head, biting your lip when he adds a third finger. “N-no, I’m here, I’m-”

Your back arches off the bed with a loud moan, and he slaps his free hand over your mouth, dropping low to speak in your ear. “I thought I told you to behave, Kitten. Hmm?” His hair falls onto your face, tickling your forehead over your brows, furrowed tight with the effort not to cry out behind his hand. His head rears back enough to watch your eyes, a smug grin spreading when he sees your expression. “Yeah, just like that, baby. There’s my good girl.”

Your orgasm crashes over you, sending you spiraling into the abyss of pleasure named Minho. His fingers continue their onslaught, hooked upward like a command, as your body continues to climb further and further towards the heavens. You distantly register the hand over your mouth moving down to your nipple, and when he pinches the bud between his thumb and forefinger, the sharp cry of delight that rips from your chest has him growling.

“I need to be inside you, right. fucking. now.”

His fingers withdraw from your body, leaving you whimpering, and he coos at you. “Shh, it’s okay my love, let me just get naked for you.”

It doesn’t take him long to strip off his soft pajama pants and the printed ‘You’ve Got to be Kitten Me’ t-shirt you bought him on your last trip to the States. Then he’s lining himself up and sliding into your wet warmth with a low moan.

“God, princess. Fuck.” He kisses your temple when you whine, the pressure of his cock stretching you open again after so many weeks without it. Once he bottoms out, your breath hitches and he pauses, dipping down to kiss you sweetly.

“Daddy,” you murmur into his mouth, fighting the tongue that flicks over yours. “Daddy, please. Fuck me.”

Begging has always been his weakness, so he pushes up, eyes crazed as he gazes down at you and slowly rocks his hips back. Minho slams forward, driving himself back into you, punching a gasp out of you, repeating the slow withdrawal and the quick thrust back over and over and over.

“Is that what you wanted, baby? Just wanted to be my sweet little whore again?” His voice is broken by the force of his body bullying its way into yours, the way his hand comes up to force one of your knees up to your chest.

“Ye-yes, fuck, yes Minho, please.”

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for now. Minho doesn’t seem to care, his mouth curling wide.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, hmm?” His hand moves back up, wrapping around your throat. Your walls clench involuntarily at the weight of it. “My needy slut.”

“Yours.”

He snarls at that, dipping forward to loom over your face as his hips set a more punishing pace. Your eyes roll backward, feeling the crescendo of another orgasm building. 

“Mine. Always mine.” His teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just below his thumb, and it’s enough to trigger your climax. White hot light flashes behind your eyes, sending currents down your body as you moan his name. Distantly, you hear him swear, his body seizing as his head drops to your shoulder.

The hand at your throat loosens, and slowly, your mind floats back into your body.

Minho is collapsed on top of you, pressing soft kisses to the skin over your clavicle when you feel coherent enough to speak.

“Holy shit. Welcome home, I guess.”

The warmth of his laughter fans out over your throat. “Mhmm. Missed you.”

You bring a hand up to thread into his hair. “Missed you more.”

xx

Author's Note: Dedicating this to my lovely girlfriend BunBun. She's a Lino girlie and has recently gotten into reading fic, so I wanted to write her something that would make her toes curl. Did I achieve that, babydoll? :P I hope everyone else enjoyed my glorified love letter first actual Minho drabble! xx Minty

[mary-loves-to-read]

a lullaby on his throat | series masterlist

hyunjin x reader (afab), hyunjin x felix (as past lovers) ; genre: mythology au, romance, smut. This work is 18+, minors DNI.

summary: a demigod is sent to the mortal plane by his god of a father as a punishment

warnings: angst ; hurt/comfort ; longing ; smut ; themes of unrequited feelings. ; themes of difficult relationships w/ parents ; mentions of past failed romantic relationships ; mutual pining ; strangers to lovers — the mythology represented in this story is a creation, although inspired by greek & other mythologies.

You met his gaze, intrigued. His eyes were bright, of a color you couldn’t quite put into words—you were a scholar but you were not a poet and the mere words hazel brown simply didn’t describe them. His eyes, it seemed, held whole entire worlds inside of them.

— Part one: sunlight/shooting star — Part two: gyokuro green tea — Part three: a murmuration of starlings — Part four: run along with the gods [to be released] — Part five: a lullaby on his throat [to be released]

[mary-loves-to-read]

a million little stars

snippets of your relationship with minho. tooth-rooting fluff. they’re so in love your honor!!!!!!!!! (minho is drunk in two scenes but HE’S ADORABLE)

this is for my baby @rachalixie,,, happy (very late) birthday my star HOW LUCKY I AM TO KNOW YOU 😭

please consider donating to our stayblr fundraiser for gaza!! we are so so close to raising 5000 dollars for palestine!

Your hands tremble like autumn leaves as you press them to Minho’s cheeks. His eyes are glossed over as if dipped into resin, his face flushed like hibiscus petals. You're unsure if it’s from the cold or the three bottles of soju before him.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” you quickly ask, pulling the chair in front of him. The grocery store’s light reflects off his face, red and blue dancing across his pupils like flames in a fireplace.

A lazy smile forms on his lips as he blinks at the sound of your voice. Your name escapes his lips faintly, as if he’s in awe over the fact that you’re really there.

“Don’t we have classes tomorrow? And you have dance practice too. Why are you getting so drunk?” you chastise, pulling the bottle from his grasp. He lets you, laying his cheek on his arm, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Minho? Won’t you answer me?” you giggle slightly, and he blinks, the grin spreading across his face like sun rays stretching across the sky.

“Did I think of you so much you suddenly appeared in front of me?” he whispers, and your heart thrashes around your ribcage only to plummet to your knees.

You met Minho in one of your psychology classes, and then at the grocery store near your home. That’s how you found out you live only three minutes apart. Minho started walking you home after class, and you attended his dance practices in return. That’s how your crush came to life.

An unrequited love, you long thought.

Now, not so much. You dare hope.

“You think of me?” you whisper, and he nods, his lips forming into a huge pout. Your eyes soften like clay at the sight.

You didn’t know Minho became this adorable when drunk. Truthfully, there are lots of things you still don’t know about him, though your infatuation feels as if it has inhabited your soul for years.

“Ah, Yn-aaah,” he suddenly drawls out, grabbing the end of your chair and pulling you closer. He does it so effortlessly it leaves you dizzy for a few seconds.

“Why are you sooo pretty, huh?” he mumbles, placing his chin on his palm.

“You’re drunk. I look like a mess right now,” you shake your head slightly, your blush now mirroring his.

“No, no, no,” he contradicts vehemently. You blink, and his face is suddenly inches away from yours. “See, your eyes… your nose…” His finger traces your features as he names them. “Your cheeks… and your lips.” His thumb grazes your lower lip, and suddenly, you’re the one who’s drunk off of his touch.

He brightens up, dropping his hand and placing his forehead on the table. “Pretty, so so pretty.”

…

“And then you kept mumbling about how pretty I am till I got you to your dorm,” you giggle, and Minho huffs slightly. He’s acting cool, but his ears betray him, turning a scorching red as you recount the night you found him drunk and alone, two months ago.

“I mean, did I lie? You are pretty,” he mumbles through a pout, one that you quickly kiss away. His lips taste of sugar and love— you dare to hope the grand feeling is reciprocated.

“You also kept yelling my name so loud that someone looked out of their window—” He silences you now, your lips struggling to meet as a fit of giggles overtakes you.

“Shh, let me kiss you,” he smiles against your lips, and you nod, sliding your hand across his jaw. His fingers graze your arm as your mouths meet again and again, and soon you’re no longer sure how much time has passed since you last spoke.

He breaks away first, the tip of his nose grazing your cheek. He brings you onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your apartment is quiet for a little while, the only sound being your synced breathing.

It’s so comforting to be in his hold, to feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, his perfume cocooning your soul. You’ve liked Minho for so long that getting to embrace him still feels like a dream, even after two months of dating.

“I love you,” he suddenly whispers, and a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins at his words, butterflies flapping their wings in your stomach at how gentle he sounds.

“What?” you pull away slightly, finding him blinking furiously, a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“I love you,” he repeats, slightly louder this time, his hands cupping your cheeks securely, safely. “I really love you.”

You feel as if the entire universe is suddenly singing within your heart.

…

“Minho,” you whine slightly, trying to shake him off, but he doesn’t budge.

“Baby, I really have to pee,” you chuckle, but he shakes his head, pushing his entire weight atop you.

“Warm,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, because you’re suffocating me.”

“So my love is suffocating?” he scoffs loudly, pushing himself off you. “Do you hear that, Soonie?” he turns to the orange cat near your head. “Can you believe it?”

“If Soonie could speak, she’d complain about your sleep-talking,” you joke, placing a quick peck on the tip of his nose. It was one of Minho’s most endearing traits, one that you discovered since you moved in together, a few weeks ago.

“You have two minutes,” he narrows his eyes at you, “or else I’ll terrorize you while you pee.”

“You’re crazy,” you shake your head, but your smile says otherwise. It warms your heart to think that someone loves your presence so much that they’d come to crave it first thing in the morning.

You’re back in bed exactly one minute and forty-seven seconds later (courtesy of Minho’s counting). He’s quick to wrap you in his arms, your back nestled perfectly against his chest.

“You smell good,” you compliment, placing tiny kisses on the arm wrapped around your middle. You grin, recognizing hints of your soap. You smile wider when you spot goosebumps raising across his skin.

“So do you,” he mumbles into your hair. It’s the last you both speak for a few minutes. The only sounds in the room are Soonie’s occasional tired mewls and the curtains swaying before the open window.

Sounds of home.

“Honey,” Minho suddenly calls out, and you open your eyes to find a dainty necklace dangling before you. The initial M reflects the filtering sunlight.

“I’m a bit possessive,” he says, placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder. “Need everyone to know you are mine.”

“You’re very cute,” you smile softly, brushing your hair away from your shoulder. His lips graze your bare skin as he clasps the necklace in place.

“It looks good on you,” he compliments, spinning you around to look at you. “Thank you for giving me a home,” he whispers, before scattering kisses along your collarbone— they remind you of dewdrops falling atop petals at dawn, eager to reunite after a long night apart.

…

“Thank you for coming,” Chan smiles sheepishly as you stand before their table. You quickly give him a side-hug before kneeling in front of Minho.

“Is he okay?” you ask worriedly, rubbing warmth into his hands. Chan shakes his head, placing his jacket over Minho’s shoulders.

“Yeah, he just didn’t want to get into the car. He kept asking for you.”

“He’s very strong even when he’s drunk,” you giggle knowingly, memories of four years past surfacing. Back when Minho was just a crush who called you pretty while drunk.

Now he’s everything to you.

“I’ll be in the car. Just convince him to get in, please,” Chan whines, and you chuckle, sending him a thumbs-up.

“Baby,” you whisper, grazing Minho’s cheeks with your knuckles. His eyes, still glossy, peer at you, a million little stars finding refuge within their depths.

“I want Yn,” he mumbles, closing his eyes again.

“Honey, I’m Yn,” you explain while laughing, peering at him from underneath. He squints one eye at you, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Fine,” he stands up suddenly, tripping on his own two feet. You quickly hold him as his forehead rests atop your shoulder.

“Yn… I’m hiding something from my girlfriend,” he whispers, attempts to, in his drunken state. Your heart catches in your chest as you tread carefully, running your fingers through his hair.

“What is it, baby?” you ask.

“I will propose to her next week.”

“Oh,” you gasp softly, your hold on him growing limp. “Will you?”

“Yes, but it’s a secret,” he brings his finger to his lips, making a shushing motion. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You break out in loud giggles. Chan sends you a quizzical look when he spots the radiant smile across your lips— it’s only a reflection of the sun that has lodged itself into your heart.

Minho lays his head atop your lap on the drive back home. Your soul exhales in content as you gaze at your pretty Minho, your lovely Minho.

“Baby,” you whisper in his ear. He hums sweetly in response.

“Can I tell you a secret in return?” you ask and he nods eagerly. “Your girlfriend will say yes. And she loves you” sudden tears of gratitude well in your eyes, “more than she could ever express.”

[mary-loves-to-read]

part 1 - prince fucking charming

caffe latte

hongjoong x reader

genre : smau, slice of life au, strangers to lovers, coffee shop au, college au, slow burn fs, tinder date, humor, fluff, angst

warnings : swearing, lying

prev : next

masterlist

synopsis

⤷ with school back in session, hongjoong thought he could finally distract himself with homework instead of his coupled up friends. however, things took a turn when he reluctantly agreed to go on a tinder date his friends set up.

[mary-loves-to-read]

HAND-HOLDING DURING SEX ➞ HYUNG-LINE

➤ PAIRING: STRAY KIDS HYUNG-LINE X FEM!READER

➤ GENRE: SMUT. (NSFW & MDNI)

➤ WARNINGS: SEX, MENTION OF TOYS, BREEDING KINK, BIPOLAR CHAN, MEAN EX, TEASING! SKZ, ORAL/FACESITTING, ETC.

➤ REQUESTED?: YES

HYUNG-LINE — MAKNAE-LINE

CHAN — Chan finds it adorable at first when you blush a little while requesting to hold hands during sex. It doesn't turn out as the soft sex you imagined though. It ends up with you in missionary with both of your hands held tightly by the bottom of his torso, his toned abs, even. Although he may have gone very rough this time, it could be the polar opposite next time. You could come home that very night to dinner made and placed neatly on the table, with a very dressed up and smug Chan glaring and giggling at you next to the food. Before you can even start digesting your food, Chan taunts you in a horny manner. He states in many different ways that, "If you're a good girl, then you'll be dessert." Honestly, who would disobey him? More notably, on the contrary, his mocking words were nothing like how he acted in bed. He started slow, teasing your clit with his fingers, then the situation started heating up more. Before you knew it, he held your left hand in his right while he situated his dick lined up to your pleading hole. Then, he shoved it in before grasping your other hand and throwing his head back in pure pleasure. Sometimes throughout making love he'll bring your hands up to his mouth and give them little pecks.

MINHO — Minho finds the idea of it questionable at first, like what do you mean you want to hold hands? He thinks that it's for babies or pussies who 'can't take the pain'. And even though he says this he still tries it out, contradicting what he said. The only way that he'll accept the hand-holding is if you're laying flat on your stomach with your hands tied back, either doggy or the flat-doggy position. This is because then only slightly can he hold your hands. He also states that it's the perfect breeding position, if he were ever to get you pregnant, that is. That's what you thought until one tranquil evening when he got you sprawled out and laid back on his bed, leaving trails of kisses everywhere around your body. He's flipped you over countless numbers of times, multiple positions, the trading of oral, and finally, his favorite locality, doggy style. After being overstimulated, you cannot even form the correct and final position, as it ends up a rather downward-doggy style. He says directional words to help you align with where his body is at the edge of the bed. When the time was right, he stuck his dick into you and snatched your hands from the side of your body. As the only thing holding you up, he grabs them harder to keep your upper body off of the mattress. It gives him the ability to swiftly whisper things into your ears like, "You would look so pretty filled up with my children~" and, "You'll be all nice and round for me, right baby?" and you cannot forget "These hands that you asked me to hold? They'll be carrying my children when I'm through with you." (Sorry, I need to fill my Minho x Breeding Kink thoughts.)

CHANGBIN — Does Changbin find this cute? Yes. Is he going to hold your hands? Yes. Does he know why you want to? No. He would prefer if he didn't know, honestly. It's not for anything serious, it's just that he doesn't want to embarrass you with questions like, "Oh so do you dislike your body?" or, "Do you really wanna be the 'shy girl' so bad?" Since he is aware that your ex made similar comments to these and wouldn't want you upset. The instant you bring it up, he says yes, just like he always does. Knowing you want to try something new in your sex life, no matter if it is as small as holding hands, he understands that could be a huge difference to someone else, like you, who usually does not initiate the moments. Moving past that, this is Changbin we are talking about...expect him to make you sit on his face while supporting your legs and simultaneously holding your hands. You attempt to hover over him slightly, which ends up with you failing, miserably. He grabs your thighs to stabilize you on his face, and while his arms are hooked under your legs, he traces your beautiful waist before softly grasping your hands. When you're about to have an orgasm, he holds on for his dear life, intending to keep you planted while he licks up every last drop, hands still connected.

HYUNJIN — Hyunjin just laughs, out of fascination. It came off as surprising to him because he had never heard you confess to something of the sort, and knowing you enjoy holding hands generally—in bed while having sex, seems very intimate. Hyunjin doesn't have a position in specific but holds your precious hands when he shoves toys galore into your sore cunt. The hands-free vibrator helps send you over the edge, and Hyunjin just sits there and watches. The hand part also comes in handy for him, since he could keep you from messing with the wireless toys. When he uses dildos and others that require a hand, only one of his hands will be available. As Hyunjin shoves the monstrous dildo into your sweet hole, he contains your right hand with his left, and if you try to hide away from him, the pleasure will leave and he will promptly drag the toy out of your pussy and shove his large dick in as punishment. Since it happened to be your idea, he constantly teases you about it. He knows you like it when he teases you and says dirty comments straight up to your face such as, "You'd look adorable if you were crying and we held hands instead," and afterward leaves it off with something like, "Come here, darling, lemme take care of you...you know I didn't mean it right?"

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS! IF YOU DID PLEASE SHOW ADMIRATION OF MY WORK BY LIKING, REBLOGGING, SHARING, OR COMMENTING! IT REALLY SHOWS ME HOW I AM DOING AS A WRITER ♡

[mary-loves-to-read]

[mary-loves-to-read]

moonstruck.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst if you squint; they're in love <3, mentions of menstruation, there's a bit about orpheus and eurydice so you're not familiar you might want to look it up beforehand idk, not as edited as i'd like. not a lot of warnings here tbh it's just pretty mild and mellow saur 🤷‍♀️ (also i don't exactly love this but i hope you'll still tolerate it anyway lol) word count: 4.7k playlist 🎧: moonstruck - enhypen // this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker ft. chelsea cutler // pansy - taemin // tightrope - zayn

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho is the kind of love that you thought only existed in movies and fairytales. Make-belief, too good to be true, out of reach.

When he rests his head on your shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep like he’s been doing for the past hour or so, you give into the urge to stare at him in wonder. An angel on earth, if there ever was one.

His long eyelashes that you could only dream to have, the slope of his nose, his pink pouty lips, his impeccably sharp jawline, and even his fluffy hair that’s ticking your cheek as you look at him as if you don’t get to see him like this every day. But that kind of beauty is something that demands to be showcased in the world’s most exquisite museum and admired by anyone who comes across it.

Minho is beautiful in every sense of the word.

And you adore him. You do. You love him with every single beat of your pathetic little heart and then some.

Surely, you must’ve saved a nation in one of your past lives to deserve someone as ethereal as him.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss against his forehead. The touch makes him stir awake, eyelids fluttering open as he groggily looks around and stretches out his limbs, in the limited space that he has anyway. His sleepy voice asks you, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I think they said we still have about forty minutes before we land. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Minho shakes his head, covering his mouth when a yawn forces its way out. He straightens his back to his full height sitting down, then slumps against the seat a little bit. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while his hands find one of your own to hold in his lap.

He rubs the skin of your fourth finger for a moment before he eventually stills, lightly snoring again while you look out the window, gazing at oddly shaped clouds and blues and the reflection of the sun on the waters below.

–

After you’ve checked into the hotel, freshened up and readied yourselves to explore the scenery, Minho takes you down to the beach. It’s a little chilly, spring hasn’t yet settled into summer. Even with a light jacket on, you still shiver every time the wind rushes by like it’s playing with the waters. But it’s nice – the sea breeze in your hair and the sunlight on your face, your lover by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you walk along the shore together. The blue of the sea almost blending in with the sky where they meet somewhere out there on the horizon. Seagulls flying overhead, families enjoying their relaxing vacation, children playing in the sand way down the shoreline where all you can make out are blurry silhouettes dancing about.

It’s paradise on earth. It’s an escape that you desperately needed. Exhilarated doesn’t even begin to describe how you felt when he told you that he’d booked a Jeju trip for your anniversary.

He’s always been the perfect partner. Always knows just the right thing to do for you whenever you need a pick-me-up. He may not seem like it, but Minho is beyond caring and considerate. He’s a man of few words but he certainly makes up for it with his actions.

“Hey,” he says, pointing somewhere ahead of you. “Remember what happened there?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes try to follow the direction of his finger, until they find a spot where two people are sitting, watching the water in front of them, content smiles passed between lips as they talk animatedly. “Didn’t you confess to me there?”

He smiles as the memory resurfaces in his mind. “Did you know I almost chickened out?”

You two started out as friends way before you got together.

Three years ago, just a few months after you’d both graduated from college, Minho asked you to go to Jeju island with him. You thought it was a little strange – though not that strange since you had been on trips with him before, but it was always in a group setting with all of your other friends. Never just the two of you.

Nonetheless, you agreed. You wanted to get out of the city anyway. You needed a change of scenery to clear your head and to recharge. Everything was starting to become too much for you - being 22 and in limbo. You felt like you kept falling behind no matter what you did. Everyone was moving forward and you were running in place no matter how hard you tried to get out of that slump.

Everyone around you was outgrowing you and your little life, and all you could do was pretend you were fine.

It was one of the lowest you’d ever felt, and you suppose that was why you said yes to Minho’s invitation. A vacation didn’t seem like it would help much, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

A few days away, with nothing but the sun and the sea to help you get out of your own head.

A tropical paradise and Minho. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were worse things you could think of.

That, and the fact that there had always been something between you and him. Not crazy sexual tension or anything, but just enough of a noticeable spark. An inkling of something that neither of you ever acted upon.

“Did you?” you ask. “Didn’t you plan the whole trip back then to confess?”

“What? No. Why would I willingly do that when you could’ve rejected me? Then I would’ve been stuck in a hotel with you and on the plane ride back.”

You squint at him. “Then why did you take me on that trip?”

Minho shrugs. “Friendship trip to cheer you up.”

Years with him and he still makes you feel as warm as he did the first time you kissed. You gaze at him with what must be the world’s most lovestruck look plastered on your face. You reach up to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, then watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You did confess though,” you argue.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t planned,” he tells you. “You just... We were sitting right there,” he tips his chin toward the same spot again, “and you had my jacket on because you were cold. You were watching the sunset and you looked so pretty. I couldn’t help it. Almost chickened out though.”

You stop walking, and this makes him stop too. Minho glances at you with his head slightly tilted, wearing a puzzled expression.

“You never told me that,” you say.

“You never asked.”

Pouting, you tug him toward you until he’s close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Minho is good, so incredibly good for you that sometimes you can’t possibly fathom how you even deserve him. He never meant to get anything out of it; he just saw that you were struggling and wanted to make it better for you.

Maybe you didn’t do a very good job at pretending, not if Minho could see right through you.

Before him, you had a fear of heights. Not the literal kind, but rather the kind of heights that often accompanies big leaps, big changes. A fear of falling, maybe that would be more accurate. Falling and failing and hitting rock bottom with no way to climb back up. A fear that you would always be stuck with this life forever, trapped in an existence you never asked for. A fear that no effort to escape your reality would be enough, and you’ll always be trailing ten steps behind even if you try twenty times as hard.

You pull him down so you could properly kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly like he was made for you, like he’s the only person you’re ever meant to kiss in this lifetime. You can taste his smile, minty and happy as he moves against your mouth, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you to his body by the small of your back.

“If I had known,” Minho pulls away slightly, mumbling against your lips, “telling you that would get me brownie points, I would’ve told you ages ago.”

You roll your eyes with affection.

“So all this time,“ he says, “you thought I asked you on that trip just to get into your pants?”

“You did get into my pants on that trip!”

“Let me remind you that I only wanted to do something nice for you. You were the one who almost jumped my bones right then and there after I said I liked you.”

You slap his chest as he throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Minho takes your hand in his once more as he drags you along, savoring the cool sea breeze and the golden daylight dancing on glittering waters before the sun bids you goodbye.

Minho is the kind of love that makes you want to curl up into a ball and ugly cry for an hour straight.

In a good way, of course. In the best way possible.

So that’s what you do, on a fine Tuesday afternoon, sitting on a couch surrounded by three cats as you wait for him to come home, perfectly sheltered from the harsh sun outside.

He returns eventually, toward the end of your crying session. When he sees the pile of tissues on the coffee table, soaked with your tears and snot, his heart nearly falls out of his ass.

Minho drops everything, rushing to you like you’re on the verge of spontaneous human combustion because clearly, this is a normal reaction to have when you come home to a girlfriend who’s been sobbing in the dark for god knows how long.

That, and the fact that said girlfriend doesn’t cry very often. Not by herself and certainly not in front of others.

Doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the occasional bouts of tears whenever shark week closes in, though.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another rush of tears breaks as you look at him. You wipe your eyes and your nose with the tissue you’re currently holding, before throwing it on the table to join the pile you’ve accumulated.

You launch yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. The sudden force takes him aback, makes him gasp a little.

He freezes as you cling to him like a desperate koala, before his hands slowly land on your back, rubbing slowly, hesitantly, as though he’s afraid he’s hurting you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“PMS,“ you hiccup your answer out, to which Minho only responds with a relieved Ah, his hands now moving more assuredly on your body.

“Anything hurt? Sore?”

“No. Just… missed you today. Love you a lot.”

There’s something saccharine in his gaze when he pulls back and regards you with his big doe eyes, softened and endeared, yet there’s still a twinkle of mischief peeking through the sugary glaze.

He moves to make himself comfortable next to you on the couch but still makes sure to keep a hand on you so you don’t grow impatient.

Once he’s effectively squished between you and the armrest of the sofa, he says, “You missed me so much that you started crying? You could’ve texted me, or called. I would’ve come home sooner, crybaby.”

“I didn’t cry because I missed you. I cried because I love you.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not.”

You jab a finger at his ribs.

Sure, the mere thought of Minho brings tears to your eyes sometimes. It’s not really a secret anymore.

There’s something about him, just him, how wonderful he is and how all of the stars in the sky must have aligned themselves to make you and him happen. He’s the love of your entire life, there’s never been any doubt about it. Your other half, perfect for you.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you’re positive that you will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Your love for him runs so deep, so powerful that it overwhelms you at times, drowns you in nothing but affection for him and only him. A love that spreads like wildfire through your calm and sacred forest.

It’s cliché beyond words, that one day you would be having these thoughts about someone. You used to watch this kind of sentiment romanticized in movies, used to cringe and laugh at sappy lines in books and TV shows though there was always a part of you that longed for that kind of love.

You didn’t talk about it often, not even with the people closest to you. You always found it a little embarrassing to admit that you wanted love. To love and to be loved. There was something so utterly vulnerable in the act of yearning and isn’t it such a scary thing? To be vulnerable? You never saw the appeal in showing someone the deepest, darkest parts of you.

What if they leave? What if you bare yourself to someone and they deem you not worth staying for? How would you come back from that kind of rejection?

You suppose it always held you back - the fear of being open that goes hand in hand with the fear of being left behind. Maybe you have more fears than you’d like to admit.

Then came Minho.

No, that doesn’t sound right.

He didn’t come crashing into your life like a tidal wave and unraveled your every belief.

He was always there by your side, a calming presence that you could lean on when things got tough. A friend, a solid foundation. He’s the relief after every monsoon, the first day of sun after a long and harsh winter.

He saw you for who you were, all the messiest parts of you, and loved you anyway. In spite of your mess? Because of your mess.

He taught you that love isn’t always extravagant gestures and grand declarations that Shakespeare would applaud.

Love is acceptance. Love is staying with you on your gloomiest days and holding your hand through your dreariest moments. Love is lingering glances by the doorway before he goes to work because you’re half asleep but you’re still trying to reach for him even in your dreams.

It’s sharing joys and burdens alike. Reminders to eat and gentle wake-up calls. A photo of you in his wallet, a silly picture of him as your phone’s wallpaper. Giggling with him after he tells a joke not because of the punchline itself, but because his manic chortle is even funnier.

Love is Minho cradling your face in one hand and holding onto your shaking fingers with the other, his steady gaze holding yours, and his voice whispering gently in the darkest of nights, “Your storm is my storm.”

At the end of the day, love is pretty simple. Love is him.

“Do you ever think about Orpheus and Eurydice?”

Minho laughs, the sound vibrating where you lay your head, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing the skin of your waist over your shirt. “No, I don’t think about Orpheus and Eurydice.”

You figured as much.

Your fingers trace invisible patterns on his chest as you hum your acknowledgment. Then you ask, “If it was me, if you were Orpheus, would you look back?”

His hands pause their ministrations, a little taken aback by the question you suppose. Your brain tends to pingpong between the most random things sometimes.

“You know,“ he says with an even voice, though the corner of his mouth still curls upward in amusement. “Other people just ask the worm thing.”

“The worm thing is boring. And we both know you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm either.”

“That’s true. I don’t like worms,” you agree, chuckling while your boyfriend scoffs. “Answer the question, would you look back?”

There’s no right answer because you’re not expecting a correct response. It’s a hypothesis that can never be tested because you aren’t a nymph and Minho isn’t a bard with the ability to sway all life with his music. It’s a silly thought but it’s one that you’re curious about nonetheless, just to hear what he would say. Why not?

You’ve read many interpretations of the tragedy. In some, Orpheus hears Eurydice stumble and turns to catch her fall. In others, he can’t hear her at all. The story will forever be among your favorites, one of the things that never fails to turn you inside out no matter how many times you mull over it.

Minho is quiet for a moment. You think he’s about to shoot back with a witty retort that he always has up his sleeves, probably something about how he would find a loophole and trick his way out of the deal, or that he would personally fistfight Hades to get you out of the underworld. This wouldn’t surprise you at all.

Instead, he says, “Yes, I would look back.”

But regardless of how you choose to view the myth, the ending does not change. Orpheus always turns around.

He turns around because he loves her.

Minho’s fingers slip under your shirt to brush your bare skin, angling his head sideways so he could kiss your forehead. 

Maybe he’s just saying it for the sake of being romantic, for the sake of saying what seems to be the right thing. It’s an answer that you can never give substance to, but you believe him with all your heart.

You believe him. You do.

“If it’s you, I would look back.”

Minho is the kind of love that eclipses the sun and dims the light of the moon. The kind of love that drowns out all the noise and makes everything a little more bearable. Not just the most horrible things – your fears and struggles alike – but even the smallest, most mundane things.

If there’s one thing that you absolutely hate, it’s the smell of nail polish. You hate the way it lingers in the air even after the bottle has been capped, hate how the smell of toluene stains your fingertips even after washing your hands several times with scented soap.

Though, the only time you try to tolerate it is when Minho convinces you to stay in and pamper each other. Pizzas that he picks up for dinner and tiramisu ice cream for dessert. Face masks and fancy candles that you save for special occasions. SoonDoongDori napping on various surfaces in your living room, an old vinyl playing from the record player he got you for your first birthday you shared together after you started dating.

You each take turns doing the other’s nails on the carpeted floor. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that you indulge in every month, where you would spend cozy Friday evenings indoors just because neither of you can be assed to indulge in a “proper“ date night. Being hermits together sounds infinitely more appealing to you than any other alternative.

“I’m not done,” you say, snatching Minho’s hand back after he pulls it away to admire your work. You blow on his fingers to make sure that the layer of black polish you applied earlier is dry, then you’re reaching for a bottle of beige polish sitting amongst the ones scattered on the floor. You take a tiny brush from the nail kit - one that’s rarely ever touched because neither of you knows how to do nail art - and dip it into the sand-colored polish.

“What are you doing?“ he asks, watching as you trace some squiggly lines on his middle finger, the lighter color settling nicely on top of the black even if he has no idea what you’re trying to draw. “What is that?”

“Soonie,” you say simply. “When you flip people off, you can show them Soonie.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that his attention is fixed on you even though he doesn’t give you a response. You feel his gaze on the side of your face, soft and warm and never leaving for even a second. He doesn’t say anything while you work though, maybe he doesn’t want to mess up your concentration while you’re so engrossed in what you’re doing. He only chuckles at your answer, then nothing afterward.

You don’t mind the lack of conversation. It helps you focus better on what you’re doing because you’re no artist by any means. You can’t draw to save your life, let alone master something as intricate as nail art, but this is therapeutic. It’s perfect to help you unwind after a long week - doodling your beloved cat on your boyfriend’s nails while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls sets the ambience. You’ll get the ice cream when you’re done with your impromptu project, along with a little headache from inhaling too much of the polish scent perhaps, but isn’t that a small price to pay?

You take your sweet time with the teeny tiny details, like Soonie’s delicate whiskers and the darker strips of fur on his face. He still turns out a little wonky, a little lopsided here and there but it’s not like you expected it to turn out like a Picasso.

The real Soonie seems to sense a disturbance in the force when he wakes up from his nap and saunters toward you curiously. You pick him up and sit him in your lap so he doesn’t come too close to the fresh polish on Minho’s nails. “Look,” you say with a proud smile, pointing toward the small cat doodle. “That’s you.”

He studies it for a moment, focused on your portrayal of him but then he’s quick to decide that he’s not interested anymore before wiggling away from your lap to go join Doongie on the couch. You chuckle lightly, watching him as he walks off, wondering if this is what it will feel like when your future children enter their teenage years.

When you turn back to Minho, he’s still staring at you, a dazed look in his eyes as he blinks slowly, his hand resting limply on his thigh.

“What?” you ask. “Do you not like–”

“Marry me.”

The rest of your question dies in your throat, wilting away like cherry blossoms when summer nears. He doesn’t break eye contact, still that dreamy gaze when he peers at you. Nothing has ever changed in the way that he looks at you.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. You think anyone would be when their boyfriend drops a proposal out of nowhere while you’re doing each other’s nails in your comfiest sweatpants.

Everything that you’ve been afraid of comes bubbling to the surface, every doubt, every fear, even every  fleeting insecurity. They manifest as a ringing in your ears, a buzzing in your head that makes it hard to think about anything at all.

But then he shuffles closer, closer and closer until his warm breath fans your cheek, his nose nudging your cheekbone gently. It’s similar to what Doongie does sometimes when you’re lounging in bed and he just wants some love.

When Minho takes your hand and laces your fingers together in his lap, everything stills. The rumbling comes to a halt, the distant thunder fading slowly into the background of your mind palace until it’s reduced to mere white noise. “Marry me,“ he says again, and his voice is so tender that you ache. Tender and sweet and so full of wonderful adoration. If you ever have to describe what love sounds like, you would say it’s him and his voice, right here and right in this exact moment.

“A little dramatic to propose just because I drew your cat.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to your cheek before he ducks down to deliver another kiss on the side of your neck. Then he pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of you and your now glassy eyes.

“Bottom drawer in our bedroom,” he tells you. You can’t lie; you have half a mind to leave him here and go check. “I bought the ring two months ago, but I knew I wanted to marry you two years before that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do it but I realized the perfect moment doesn’t exist, because every minute I spend with you is perfect. I love you so much. It’s not because you drew me my cat, by the way. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.

“I love your weird brain and your blanket-hogging ass. I love that you’re crazy enough to listen to a song literally over a thousand times without getting bored. I even love you when you set ten alarms in the morning and still manage to sleep through all of them. I know you hate your smile but it’s my favorite smile in the world. Did you know my favorite color is the color of your eyes? The best part of my day is when I get to come home to you and the kids waiting for me. I want all of you forever. I promise I’ll love you twice as much on days that you don’t love yourself. When we’re old and gray and we look like raisins, I’ll let you go first so you won’t have to spend a single day alone. I’ll–” He stops when you let out a teary giggle, no bite in his voice at all when he says, “Please don’t laugh at me during my big romantic speech.” 

It only makes you laugh harder, though it’s just as emotional. If you focus on the other part of his sentence, you’ll only crumble into a million pieces right here.  “How very romantic of you to include the visual of us as raisins in your speech.”

Minho rolls his eyes – fondly, of course. When he pretends to squirm away from you, you tug him back by the collar of his shirt to plant an apologetic kiss on his lips which he eagerly accepts.

“Please continue,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “Tell me all the ways that you’ll love me.”

“You ruined it. I retract my proposal,” he grumbles, but his arms betray his words when they tighten around your frame, holding you close to him to steal another kiss. Then another, and another, until your faces are wet with tears and you realize that you’re both crying.

“I’m sorry,” you say through sniffles and tears. “Please keep going.”

“Make it up to me first.”

“How?”

“Marry me,” he repeats a final time. “I’ll give you a better speech on our wedding day.”

Years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail. How the cats’ peace is disturbed by your tearful giggles and the strange look they give you two before wandering out of the room, in favor of somewhere without two crying idiots. How the record starts skipping but neither of you can be bothered to do anything about the obnoxious sound. How the material of his shirt feels when you bunch the fabric in your hands because you need to kiss him, need him to be as close as humanly possible.

You’ll remember the sob that he hiccups when you tell him through choked up whispers, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” and how his lips feel when they tremble against your skin. You’ll remember the way he holds onto you like a lifeline, because he’s always been your salvation for as long as you’ve known him. You’ll remember what happens after, later that night when he finally slips the ring onto your finger. The words he whispers into the crook of your neck, “You mean the world to me,” and the emotions in his voice when you both realize this is the start of the rest of forever.

You’ll remember everything, all of it, every clumsy touch and every graceless kiss. Ugly crying on the floor and yet, it’s more perfect than anything you can ever dream of.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 13.07.2024]

[mary-loves-to-read]

୨୧ THINKING ABOUT DILF!LEE KNOW

𝝑𝝔 cw : age gap!! mentions of p in v, smut under the cut

DILF! MINHO who is in his 40's with two amazing children from a past marriage

DILF! MINHO who is a CEO of a pet toy brand, a position that rakes in six figures a year

DILF! MINHO who is unashamed of his age, proudly showing off his grey hairs

DILF! MINHO who hired you as his assistant even though you were only in your third year of college, but didn't expect for you to be so fucking gorgeous

DILF! MINHO who invites you over for an innocent dinner with him and his kids

DILF! MINHO who teaches you how to cook once a week at his luxurious apartment, taking advantage of the ability to grab your waist when he scoots past you

DILF! MINHO who's cock starts chubbing up every time he thinks of you in that black pleated pencil skirt, the one that hugs your hips just right, and that is so short, if you bend over he may just get a glance at your panties

DILF! MINHO who comforts you when your shitty boyfriend cheats on you, holding you close to his chest as you cry into his shirt

DILF! MINHO who is shocked when you confide that your stupid ex had never made you cum

DILF! MINHO who immediately sinks to his knees, offering to show you what it's like to fuck a real man

DILF! MINHO who is gentle with you, treating you like the most expensive porcelain

DILF! MINHO who makes you squirt on his fingers while he coos at your fucked out face and whimpers of pleasure

DILF! MINHO who is technically in his mid 40's but who fucks like he's in his 20's

DILF! MINHO who is the first man to make you cum

DILF! MINHO who puts the most effort into making you feel good in bed

DILF! MINHO who treats you like a princess, buying you anything your heart could ever want

DILF! MINHO who fucks you to sleep every other night

DILF! MINHO who asks you to marry him after taking you on your dream vacation about three years into dating him

DILF! MINHO who pumps you full of his cum that night in the hotel, making sure you remember that he is the only man who could ever make you feel this good

DILF! MINHO who pumps a baby into you on your wedding night