#minkyun fanfic

[slytherinshua]

CHILL & FUZZY

genre. fluff. warnings. none. pairing. mk x reader. wc. 1k. a/n. cats + mk is always the best combo guys <//3

“It’s cold!” You whined, doing your best to match Minkyun’s speed-walking. You were falling behind quickly, both because of your short legs, and the fact that you were slowly freezing to death. Your boyfriend stopped and waited for you to catch up to him hearing your complaints.

“I told you to bring a coat.” He said, shaking his head and huffing out a breath. A thin foggy cloud of MK’s exhaled breath could be seen in the air from how cold it was and you shivered again.

“You texted me that after I was already at work! I thought you were going to pick me up in your car.” You defended with a gasp, still a little out of breath from running to catch up to him.

“I thought you liked walks. It’s not even that far.” He glanced at the GPS he was using to find your destination. Only 5 minutes left.

“Not when it’s this cold…”

Minkyun sighed and started to unzip his winter coat. You suddenly felt bad, as he would probably get cold without it, but he shushed you before you could protest. He slid it off his shoulders smoothly and wrapped it around you, holding it up while you slid your arms into the arm holes. It was a bit big on you, but it was incredibly warm since he had been wearing it all day.

He smiled widely at you, big dimples popping up on his cheeks as he zipped it up again, “Cute.” He kissed your red nose and took your hand to pull you along, eager to still get there on time.

It didn’t take too long until you both stood in front of a tall apartment building. You were eager to get inside to finally escape to chill, but MK was possibly even more eager. You could see it on his face— the way his eyes sparkled with excitement as he checked one final time for the door number.

“It’s 42a.” He mumbled, stepping into the elevator with you. You pressed the button 4 for the fourth floor and watched as the elevator doors slid shut.

“Want your coat back?” You offered, though you were still enjoying the warmth it brought you.

“No, I’m okay. Besides, I think you might look better in it than me.” He replied.

“It’s too big, though.” You held up your arms to showcase how big it truly was.

“That’s a feature.” Minkyun laughed as the elevator opened its doors with a ding. The hallway was long, and a new door was placed every few metres from each other. You quickly found 42a and softly knocked on the door. A middle-aged lady opened it soon after and welcomed you both inside.

“He should be in the spare room still. I didn’t have any toys for him unfortunately, but I gave him some old cardboard boxes to play in.” She explained as she led MK and you over to a small room.

The little guy was sleeping in one of the small boxes, curled up in a cute round ball, breathing softly. You pouted at the sight and crouched down to take a closer look at the sleeping kitty. Minkyun also sat down and started to gently pet the kitten with 2 fingers. The two were already acquainted. MK had visited for the first time last week and immediately fallen in love with the little ball of fur.

You remembered him coming home from work later than usual and explaining to you how he had found a post for a new kitten who had been found abandoned on the street. The lady who had taken him in couldn’t keep him. Naturally, as soon as MK took one look at the soft little black kitten, he was compelled to take him home. It was practically all he had been thinking about for the past week.

The cat already seemed comfortable with Minkyun, evident from the soft purring that you could hear after MK started petting him. He was so tiny all curled up, sleeping peacefully. You could definitely see why your boyfriend was so set on adopting him. It was impossible not to fall in love with him with just one look.

You didn’t spend too much longer in the apartment before you were coaxing the small feline into a cat carrier and heading out to walk back home. MK held the small pet carrier as carefully as possible and walked slower than on the way there to make sure not to jostle the little kitten. 

Once you were home and had discarded your coats and shoes, you settled on the floor of the bedroom to let out the new addition to the family. Your boyfriend wanted to start with just 1 room of the house for the little guy. The house would seem enormous compared to the tiny kitten, and just one room would be far less overwhelming for him.

He seemed timid and it took some coaxing from you and MK to get him to crawl out of the pet carrier. His nose was working like crazy, taking in all the new unfamiliar scents. He mewled, his small voice matching up to his body as he started to explore the room. 

Your eyes were firmly focused on the black furball making his way around the room slowly. The sight was adorable and your boyfriend cooed watching him explore. Once the room had been fully mapped out by the kitten, he made his way back to you two, and to your surprise, settled on your lap. You immediately smiled when you realized he was going to curl up on your leg to sleep.

“He’s so cute, baby.” You whispered to your boyfriend in awe, hesitantly petting the soft creature as he got comfortable in your lap.

“I know. That’s why I had to bring him home.” MK smiled widely, imprinting the image of the new kitten sleeping on you into his brain. It was a precious sight to behold, and MK’s heart felt all warm and fuzzy looking at it. 

And as he watched you smiled uncontrollably, looking at the kitten sleeping soundly in your lap, Minkyun was sure that bringing him home had been the right decision.

↳ onf taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair,, @edensgardenn

[luckyhyuki]

Hourglass.

HOURGLASS. BY LIGHTSJOON

SITE: AO3

PAIRING: LEE CHANGYOON X PARK MINKYUN

RATING: NOT RATED

WORD COUNT: 64.3K

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH 

“Time will run dry. Will come to a complete and lulling halt. Now matter how much of it is allotted, the last grain of sand will always fall.“

[inliar]

small shreds of love

word count: 1.9k

minkyun-centric

a collection of small moments where minkyun falls a little in love with the world.

inspired by this tumblr post that for the life of me i cannot find the link to, but here’s a link to an instagram post that screenshotted it.

a/n: 2/3 of posts i put on my ao3 that have not made it to my tumblr.

1.

‘the best and worst part of mangwon-dong is the strays,’ minkyun decides as he walks around the area. best, because he gets to see, pet, and feed all of these animals every day after practice; worst, because he knows all of these animals are not getting proper care. strays are smart and wily and more than capable of fending for themselves, but minkyun firmly believes that just because they are able to do so does not mean they should have to.

he worries about them every day. worries when it’s cold, worries when it’s too hot, worries when it rains. minkyun is a very small person who can only do very small things, but he tries to do his part regardless. which means making rounds to feed as many strays as he can with the cat food container he has in his hand.

he knows most stray cats congregate around the alleys beside convenience stores (probably hoping for the crumbs of the people who eat around it) so he heads to the first convenience store he sees. sure enough, there’s a cat sitting by the corner. it’s pitifully thin, a fact that makes minkyun’s heart clench. it’s also been thoroughly ignored by the past two customers who have walked out of the store. “you’d think they would at least spare it a glance,” minkyun mutters, dryly.

he is maybe fifty meters away when he sees a well dressed woman kneel in front of the cat. she produces a treat out of seemingly thin air and offers it to the cat, who eagerly accepts. when the cat finishes it, she pulls another one out of her pocket. ‘oh’, minkyun realizes, stopping in his tracks, ‘her pockets are filled with cat treats.’

for just a second, he falls a little in love with the air of kindness that seems to viscerally surround her. she’s dressed like an office worker and looks to be his mother’s age, but she’s taking her time where she could be working or resting to feed the stray cats. he hasn’t met many adults who would do the same. maybe minkyun is a very small person who can only do very small things, but knowing that he is not the only small person in this very big world brings him all the comfort he could ever need.

2.

minkyun is reminded, once again, that he works in an industry where viewers find pleasure in his misery. he hates, hates, hates haunted houses. always has, always will. but this is one of their first vlives after their debut, and he figures that running away sobbing will not make a great first impression. at least he isn’t alone, though, since he has jaeyoung to accompany him. brave, reliable, jaeyoung, who will most definitely have to stand in the front because there is no way minkyun is going to brave the unknown first.

jaeyoung, to his credit, is exceptionally patient with minkyun. he dutifully ignores minkyun’s protests of how he can’t go in there and talks over his very loud thoughts with miscellaneous thoughts of his own. “hold on, i have to film us both,” jaeyoung says to no one in particular. “should i hold the camera? you can hold the box.”

minkyun doesn’t grace him with an answer.

jaeyoung frets over turning on the lights to show their faces and angling the camera to show their faces before managing to adequately sort it all out. “alright, let’s go.” he says decisively.

“no, i’m not going.” minkyun says, in a last ditch attempt to convince himself that he has the courage to stay behind and disappoint his group, fans, and agency. he doesn’t, but self preservation is a nice thought.

“i get it, but there’s nothing we can do. let’s go. stay behind me.” jaeyoung says, not unkindly, and minkyun has no choice but to agree.

the further they go, the darker it gets, and minkyun is not a fan of how every offputting sound seems to be amplified by the eerie aura of the facility. all he has is a flashlight that the leaders hinted would be useless later on, and a camera for video evidence if anything goes wrong. he also doesn’t like how desperately his hands seem to grip at the back of jaeyoung’s shirt, but he can’t find it in himself to let go.

��you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,’ he silently chants to himself as jaeyoung makes small talk with the camera while some mystical recorded voice explains their mission. he nervously looks behind him every few seconds, but that’s more of an anxiety thing and less of an actual threat. but his nonexistent composure gets shot to pieces the second something makes a funny noise.

minkyun is nothing if not wonderfully responsive so he screams. loudly. all his little dumb brain can process is a never ending stream of ‘panic panic panic’ and who is he to override his baser instincts?

it only gets worse from there. more things start to make funny noises and more indiscernible shapes he can barely see start to appear out of nowhere. his mind screams louder, ‘PANIC PANIC PANIC’ and it’s only fueled by all the unfamiliar stimulus. he is not safe, there’s too many things happening at once, his heart is pounding to some terrible off kilter rhythm and the air is thick and heavy and he’s drowning in the soupy fear that’s latching his jaw shut as he blindly edges forwards and -

thud.

for a long, horrible, moment, it’s too quiet. then -

he doesn’t quite process exactly what he sees, only that it’s unnatural and frightening and suddenly all he knows how to do is scream and scream and scream as the fear paralyzes him. if it wasn’t for jaeyoung faithfully tugging him along, he never would have made it through the stupid corridor.

the rest of the mission is all a hazy blur. he figures that his mind did him a favour and deleted the memories from his head right afterwards, and he’s not complaining. and if he’s not quite right for the rest if the day, that’s nobody’s business.

he watches the reuploaded live on the very next day. he hates himself a little for how weak and cowardly he seems compared to all the other members, but all of the comments seem to call him the funniest idol they’ve ever felt sorry for while watching. minkyun wonders, again, if he should be proud of providing entertainment or resentful for what he had to go through to provide it.

his bitter thoughts are cut short once the biggest scare occurs. video minkyun is screaming like some sort of unholy banshee while video jaeyoung is screaming like a normal person, but video jaeyoung braves on. “it’s okay, i’m here, hold on,” video jaeyoung mutters, over and over again. it’s a soothing mantra and minkyun can almost see his recorded self calming down a little, settling into something outside of his raw, unadulterated panic. it doesn’t last for long, because video minkyun seems to always find another thing to cry about, but video jaeyoung is steadfast in his patience and reassurances as he keeps the two of them going.

real minkyun falls a little in love with the overwhelming sense of reassurance and comfort that video jaeyoung exuded. he had never fully recognized that side of jaeyoung before. the feeling passes, but minkyun thinks he’ll notice that part of him a lot more from now on.

3.

minkyun is not a stranger to busking. he was in a short program about busking with the rest of his group, and he’d seen people busking on the sides of streets before. he’d even been brave enough to sing a short tune on a street, but that was before he was an idol and before anyone knew his face. not that many people know his face now, but he has to act as though everyone does anyway. he’s seen what the media does to provide entertainment to the masses, and, despite doubting that busking could do him any real harm, doesn’t want to take the chance.

but that doesn’t stop him from pausing near any busker he comes across, listening or watching whatever the performer has to offer. it takes a certain caliber of courage to put yourself out there in front of an audience who didn’t ask to see you, and minkyun will openly admire and respect that whenever he can.

today is a good day. it’s as quiet and peaceful as the streets in korea can get, and he’s enjoying the cool autumn breeze as he walks towards the company building, cat food in tow. he was running low on food for the strays, and he happened to wake up earlier than he needed to for his afternoon vocal lesson, anyway. by some rare tendril of luck, minkyun can afford to enjoy and prolong his walk for another hour or so.

he’s halfway to the company, approaching an intersection, when he sees a boy in a high school uniform fiddling with strings on his guitar. the crotchety old man inside of minkyun protests - this kid should be in school, it’s class time, he’s not even trying to hide it - before it deflates and dies down. minkyun has so many friends who delayed or skipped high school altogether to become idols. even the ones that did “attend” missed a ridiculous amount of days. he should be the last person to complain.

minkyun almost misses it when the boy begins to sing, caught up in his conflicting thoughts. but once he hears it, he halts altogether.

it’s been a while since he’s heard someone sing so … honestly.

minkyun has spent a lot of his life learning the art of composure. he’s been taught time and time again how to correct his breathing, or how to widen his range, or how to emphasize the right notes at the right times to convey the right emotions. once he gathered some semblance of the basics, he even began to notice it in singers he hears on tv. this one turned her sustained high note into a vibrato by relaxing her throat. that one decrescendoed at the end of his phrase to give more finality to the note. even with professional singers who were supposed to be masters at conveying profound emotions, all minkyun heard was an amalgamation of techniques.

but this boy. he has no technique whatever.

without intending to, minkyun begins mentally critiquing his choices. he should have held that last note for at least half a beat longer. he should have emphasized that syllable. he should have -

‘no’, minkyun thinks, and this thought is louder and more final than the rest. he shouldn’t have done any of that. he shouldn’t have to do any of that. this boy’s voice, his clumsy guitar, and the honest and genuine emotion it conveys, is perfect the way it is. rather, it’s perfect because it is. it’s refreshing to listen so mindlessly and yet so carefully to a song, for once.

minkyun falls a little in love with the way the boy sings, but more so with the music he provides. it’s been a while since he’s felt this way about a song. it’s been a while since he’s remembered why he wanted to become an idol in the first place.

he dumps all of his change in the boy’s guitar case and walks away.

[lxveille]

another love song

mk x reader

word count: ~ 2080 warnings: references to alcohol a/n: university!au; another ‘trying to get back into the feel of writing’ fic so... idk ?? tbh it’s more of a fic treatment but here’s what i’m posting anyway

Minkyun has gotten inspiration for his songs from you before. This one is different.

You’re nearly always the first person to place money into Minkyun’s open guitar case when he’s busking. 

More often than not, he tries to return your money once he’s packed up for the afternoon - but you refuse, and tell him he earned it. Then he usually spends more on you than you gave by buying you bubble tea or coffee before the two of you trek back to campus.

You’re not sure what you’d do with your Saturday afternoons if not for him.

You’d met Minkyun in a literature class your first year of university. At first it had been easy to write him off as a high school class clown having some difficulty adjusting to university expectations. Except that sometimes, when your professor would really dig into the themes of a text, he’d have something to share that would stick with you. A thought - sometimes chaotically explained - that would rumble around in your brain for a week, even. Eventually, you decided a proper introduction was in order. A fatal mistake, if you’d hoped to keep up some aloof, studious front. He had a way of warming others up, it turned out. You discovered he was friends with a number of people with unfriendly faces who somehow transformed into lighthearted, open books in Minkyun’s presence.  

You feel a little lighter around him, too. 

And on the days you don’t, he invites you to unburden. 

It became a common tableau: you sprawled out, exasperated, on the beanbag chair in his dorm room, ranting about anything that bothered you while he lay on his bed, half-propped up against the wall and strumming occasional notes on his guitar. A last complaint and a final chord, and then Minkyun would be on his feet with an idea of what the two of you should do to shake it out of your system for once and for all. Those plans only sometimes included just enough beer that the both of you were giddy and ready to laugh at anything. 

If Minkyun had to name one good reason to get drunk with you, it was this: it was the only time you’d sing. The very first time you let yourself break into song in front of him had been at a bar. It had been difficult to make out your voice over the speakers, but Minkyun heard. Maybe more important, though, was the way you swayed your shoulders and rocked into each syllable. 

He would tease sometimes that you ought to join him when he busked. He might make more with you joining in. 

“Ah, but then you’d have to split it with me, too,” you’d reply. You assumed, at least, that he must be kidding. 

It was spring the first time Minkyun asked you to listen to something original he’d composed. There was something personal about it that had never occurred to you when listening to a song before. For all the times you had watched him play, it was like looking at him from a new angle. Just as his commentary used to linger on your mind, his songs began to do the same.

 And in the winter of your second year, he asked if it’d be okay to use some of your own rants as inspiration in songs. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Just - the way you talk about the guys you’re getting over, and stuff like that. It could make for good lyrics.” 

“You’re going to quote me?”

“Well,” he lingered on the syllable, then broke into a dimpled smile. “No. But I don’t wanna take inspiration without telling you!”

So it happened that when he performed songs of his own, you sometimes began to recognize bits of your own infatuations and fallings outs weaved into his lyrics. The way he framed it, it usually made it easier to get over whoever had been behind the heartbreak. 

Minkyun isn’t busking today. The drizzle is enough that it wouldn’t be worth it. All the same, he spent the better part of the morning sending you messages asking you to come over. 

When you finally cave, you put on a front of unhappiness at the door, shaking out your umbrella before passing it over to his extended hand.

“I brought some stuff for my class so I can try to get work done like I’d planned,” you told him. 

He pouted for dramatic flair. “So you’re really just gonna act like you’re at your room at mine?”

“That’s what we agreed to! I told you I wanna get this reading done so I can just be hungover tomorrow without having to worry about Monday’s lecture.” 

“Damn, and people try to frame university drinkers as irresponsible.” 

“What can I say? I’m flawless,” you comment dryly as you pass into his room. 

“So you’re still going out even if the rain keeps up?” Minkyun asks. He settles into his usual spot near the foot of his mattress. You rummage through your bag for a textbook and your printed copy of the syllabus before finding a spot somewhere closer to the pillow. 

“Mm,” you affirm, “I think I’m officially entirely over Seungcheol, so it’ll be good for me to go out.” 

“Ahhh.” There’s something guttural and mischievous in the way he makes the sound. It’d be fair to expect some ribbing comment on how transparent you could be with these things. No such remark comes. 

It’s some time later, when you’re nearly done with your assigned reading, that Minkyun announces that he finished a new song recently. 

“Like one of your own?” you ask. 

He nods, and adds how he’d been thinking of playing it out this weekend if it hadn’t been for the poor turn in weather. 

You exaggerate a gasp. “You were going to share a song with a crowd before sharing it just with me?” There’s no real offence. It’s only a pattern that you’d noticed. Sometimes he’d say it felt needed, if only because he based part of the lyrics’ premise on your own experiences instead of his own. 

“I know!” Minkyun laughs airly. “Mother nature said not to, I guess!” 

“Well, are you going to play it now then?” You should tell him to wait until you’ve finished this chapter. That way you won’t entirely lose track of things. But you’re not infallible; and if there’s one thing you’re horrible at resisting it’s the chance to hear Minkyun play. 

He hops up from the bed to fetch his guitar. And he plays. 

It’s a love song, which doesn’t come as a surprise. Minkyun told you from the beginning - or at least when he first asked if he could take inspiration from your own heart’s tribulations - that he liked to write about that feeling. The good, the bad, or at the very least what he imagined of it. 

This song doesn’t feel familiar. Usually you can tell when he’s written indirectly about your own affairs. So these endearing words, these syrupy lines of dedication, of patiently waiting for the other one to notice… They must be from his own experience. 

A corner of your heart goes sour at that thought, and retorts that it might be one of his other friends. Devoted and hoping it won’t go unnoticed would be right up Yuto’s alley, you tell yourself as your search for a likely suspect. You don’t let yourself think too much on why you don’t want it to be Minkyun’s own feelings. 

Except there’s something else that bothers you. The way he keeps his eyes on his strumming fingers, or closes them altogether. 

Normally Minkyun looks at you now and then, and smiles at your reactions to his music. Even with the unhappy songs. 

You squeeze the textbook in your lap. A corner digs into your palm. He’s somewhere in the second chorus and your mind is fogging over with an irritation. It’s not his fault. You’re not mad at him. 

You just wish you had realized you want to fall in love with Minkyun sooner.

The last chord hangs in the air before you can fully process this thought. He looks at you expectantly. 

“What do you think?” Minkyun asks. 

You force a smile. “It’s sweet.” 

He leaves space for you to elaborate. When you don’t, the corners of his lips drag down a bit. “Just sweet?” He repeats. “Is it lame?” 

“No! It’s just - it’s different from some of your other stuff. But it’s sweet. I like it. I think, um… I just was expecting it to be something based on my whole recent back and forth thing. Since you wanted to play it for me,” you try to cover for your lackluster response. 

Minkyun looks you over for a moment, then chuckles. “Not every song can be about your love life.” 

“I know! Of course! Geez, that’s not what I meant,” you rush to say, loudly, as if you needed to cover the sound of some kind of fracture in your heart. 

He leans forward to set his guitar carefully on the tiles, its neck leaning against the bed frame. “I guess that’s not totally accurate to say here though.” He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes as he looks your way again. 

“...What?”  

“Ah… You’re pretty clueless, huh?” Minkyun sounds content with himself, and he’s barely holding back a grin. 

“I’ve never gone on like that about someone.” 

“Yeah, I know.”  

You eye him over a few times quickly, trying to reach a conclusion that feels safe. All you can theorize for sure is that he’s practiced this all, and somehow it’s going to plan. Maybe. “What are you on about?” you ask, tone turning suspicious. 

He laughs more fully now, then shifts his position to face you directly from the other end of his duvet. ��You.” 

You glance around him like this could be some hidden camera prank. “What?”

“You,” Minkyun repeats, “It’s about you.” 

In the most foolish move of the day, you suddenly felt your throat dry out the same way it does before you cry. It must have been too much at once: to realize a desire and think it ripped away only to have it suddenly offered up so easily, so soon. 

“You’re not serious.” 

“Is it bad if I am?” he asks, leaning to the right a bit as he watches your reaction. You press your palm to your clavicle, trying to get your heart and your mind in sync. “Am serious, I mean.”  

All you can manage is a shake of your head. 

Minkyun grins bright and leans forward to put a hand over the one still at your side. “You really didn’t notice?” He pulls off incredulous and teasing in one go. If you weren’t so off kilter, you might want to scold him for it somehow. 

“What was I supposed to know?” You ask instead.

He shakes his head. For a fleeting instant, you worry he’s about to brush the whole thing aside. That worry is killed pretty quickly when he leans closer instead and delicately presses an experimental kiss against your lips. 

Minkyun is back to his side of the bed in the next moment, nearly like it hadn’t happened at all.  

Your hand lifts from your clavicle to allow your fingers to brush over your own lips, still tingly with the affection. Or maybe just from his lip balm rubbing off on you. 

He gives you a second more before asking, “Still okay?” 

“Um, yeah.” 

His smile returns. “Still going out to find someone new tonight?” 

“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands and accuse, “You’re the worst.”

“So… is that a yes, you are?” 

He knows it isn’t. 

He’s spent all this time getting to know you. Now he gets to be the one on the receiving end of that look in your eyes. 

“Would you stop that?” You muster up as much of a snip in your voice as you can. Your gaze gives away that you’re not really annoyed. It would be difficult to be, given the way your head is still spinning from his confession.    

“Stop what?” 

The smile on his face suggests he already knows. Nevertheless, you don’t give Minkyun the satisfaction of admitting he’s teasing you. “Just kiss me again,” you swerve to a demand. Frankly, it’s the main thing you’d been thinking since the first. You’ll figure out the rest of your feelings later. 

For now, Minkyun is hardly going to deny you that.

[yoongizzzedits]

[mx-requests-forum]

[Fulfilled] Dress-Up

Prompt: Changhyuk + demon/angel + crossdressing 

Fulfilled by Moderator M~

Words: 778

Warnings: crossdressing, teen rating

AO3 Link (For Easier Reading)

“How does this one look~?” Changkyun asked, twirling in his adorable, tiny little frilly skirt, the hem flying up to expose his even tinier panties. Beside him, Minhyuk raised his eyebrows, smiling breathlessly at the boy.

“Absolutely adorable, just like you,” Minhyuk answered, approaching Changkyun with heavy, weighted steps, hands reaching out to ‘fix Changkyun’s skirt’… yeah, that was his intent. He wrapped his long, slender fingers around Changkyun’s waist, pushing down the miniscule skirt a few more centimeters, even though it still barely covered his crotch even then. Changkyun giggled, the sound turning a little nervous as Minhyuk never removed his hands from his hips. The sensation made him feel… funny. He was an angel, and had been told by his superiors to never let a demon, like Minhyuk, lay their hands on him… so how come it felt so good? He didn’t do anything to stop the older boy, and instead wiggled slightly in place, mesmerized by the ruffliness of his skirt.

“Thank you… Minhyuk-ssi,” Changkyun belatedly replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. After a few more seconds basking in the feeling of Minhyuk’s hands on him, Changkyun pulled away from him, doing one last little twirl as he parted. “Wh-what should I try on now?” he asked, fingers curling around the edge of his skirt.

Minhyuk hummed thoughtfully, sifting through the contents of the bag of clothes he’d gifted the boy earlier that day. He smirked, eyes turning a little darker as he pulled out a rather sexy nun costume- fit with sinfully high slits on both sides and white thigh-high socks- Minhyuk’s favorite. Changkyun gasped, his cheeks on fire as he looked at the sacrilegious garment, something funny welling up inside him. He just liked dressing up to look and feel pretty, and it was fun because Minhyuk liked it too. He never thought in a thousand years it would take such a depraved turn.

“How about this one?” Minhyuk prompted, and there was something wicked in his eyes, something that Changkyun knew he shouldn’t feel drawn to. He bit his lip, and took the costume, scurrying off into the other room to put it on. From where he stood, Minhyuk raised his hand to his face, chuckling amusedly at the boy’s behavior. He was such an interesting angel, that one. After a few more minutes of impatiently waiting, Changkyun nervously stepped back into the room, sparking an immediate gasp from Minhyuk.

“Wow,” was the only word he could manage to muster out, his eyes practically devouring the sight of Changkyun wearing a tight, short nun’s dress complete with habit and thigh-high socks. He looked pure and virginal, but infinitely naughtier than any nun Minhyuk had ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was the perfect combination, and it was far too tempting for Minhyuk to just stand there idly.

His cheeks on fire, Changkyun could only shuffle around nervously, not quite sure what Minhyuk wanted from him. With the other outfits Minhyuk had given him, he’d remembered to give him panties… but this time, he didn’t have any… He pushed the edge of the skirt down, hoping Minhyuk wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t wearing any. Just as Minhyuk was about to grab Changkyun’s waist, a sudden noise jolted them both out of their hazy mindsets.

“Oh my, Changkyunnie! How many times have I told you not to play dress-up with the demon?!” superior angel Kihyun asked as he bustled into the room, holding a laundry basket full of clothes. His expression was sour and clearly unamused, and he shot Minhyuk a warning glare. Changkyun bit his lip on a retort, and instead muttered incoherently, trying to cover up his lower half with his hands. Noticing this, Minhyuk quirked an eyebrow, giving Changkyun a toothy smile as if he understood everything, to which Changkyun whimpered, feeling weirdly turned on, even though Kihyun was still right there.

“…And what in God’s name are you wearing, boy?” Kihyun asked, wondering why on earth an angel was dressed like a slutty nun. He didn’t even wait for a reply, instead leaving the room in a flurry and trying not to think on it too much. Exhaling a relieved sigh as Kihyun leaves, Changkyun looks over at Minhyuk, his eyes displaying an inner eagerness.

“Shall we continue this next time?” Minhyuk asks, smiling toothily down at his angel friend, lowering his hand to stroke his thumb across the underside of Changkyun’s chin. Nodding, Changkyun stares into Minhyuk’s dark black eyes, mesmerized.

“Yes, come over tomorrow,” Changkyun asks before he even realizes what he’s saying, and Minhyuk smirks, finding the boy adorable and deliciously pliant.

“We’ll see~” <3

[monstaxfanfic]

sandbox syndicate

author: jjokkiri on ao3

pairing: Changkyun x Minhyuk x Jooheon (minkyun, joomin, jookyun)

rating: general audiences

length: 916 words

other tags: Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, kids!AU, Fluff

Changkyun has a problem. The upper year boys want to marry him. 

Read it here

[moon-minkyung]

Entao... ice milk tea and coffe

Café, quando foi que me vicie nesta bebida tão maravilhosa, me tornei aquele tipo de pessoa que nem consigo negar amostra gratis de shopping, chá...sempre gostei sabe minkyun...ah é, descobri que minkyun é nome masculino, e eu sou uma agarota, então agora me chamo minkyung mas voce... continuara a ser minkyun, crise meu tumblr é homem, ou não, não vou lhe dar genero, seja o que quiser ser. Enfim, falando em cafe e cha eu agora conheci the boyz e enfim """achei""" meu lugar, ainda nao estou no Canadá enfiada no meios de livros, tomando minha sexta xicare de café as 6:00 a.m fazendo um grande tcc na faculdade, tambem nao estou em um apartamento minusculo na Coréia do sul trabalhando em alguma empresa sendo tradutora intérprete, eu ainda me encontro no brasil escutanto twenty one pilots ou algum kpop lendo fanfic no meu quarto e....ai droga perdi o foco, voltando, eu mudei de fandom, achei meu lugar, the boyz, e nesse meio conheci muita gente, tambem perdi aqueles que falavam que me amava (me acostumei) e nesse meio ganhei a ice milk tea, poderia falar sobre ela, sobre seu nome, altura e ideda, mas prometi que seria algo entre nos entao minkyun, senta e chora

Literalmente parece que me alimento apenas de café, leite e chá pois ando perdendo peso, mas estou de bem com meu corpo, estou de bem com meu corpo, não 100% mas estou trabalhando nisso. E talvez eu me mude, DE NOVO mas não agora, enfim irei desejar mais uma xicara de café e curti esse friozinho do sul de São paulo, pois é, não estou no litoral de sp, e sim no sul, me sinto em casa aqui

[luckyhyuki]

Stranger Satisfaction

STRANGER SATISFACTION BY ANONYMOUS

SITE: AO3

PAIRING: MIZUGUCHI YUTO X PARK MINKYUN

RATING: MATURE

WORD COUNT: 13.8K

“Yuto and Minkyun both like things they probably shouldn’t.

Or: Yuto is a member of a group of hunters who secretly enjoys letting vampires feed on him. Minkyun is a vampire who enjoys feeding on Yuto, knowing full well that he’s a member of a group of hunters.”

[lxveille]

minkyun + makeup? 🥺

title: lipstick stains word count: ~ 820 warnings: physical intimacy; mildly suggestive a/n: i really debated between angst and domestic fluff for this... and then i settled on making out with minkyun, sorry !!! one word prompt flash fics; still accepting !

Have elevators always been this slow?

Maybe it’s just the one in Minkyun’s building. 

The time it takes for the green number to tick up on the indicator feels absurd. You tear your gaze from the small screen to look at Minkyun. He turns his head towards you as well, feeling your eyes on him, and sends you a wordless grin. From his expression, and the way his arm falls from around your shoulders to your waist, you sense he’s thinking the same as you. 

A long wait wouldn’t be so bad if not for the two others in the elevator with you. With the older woman and the delivery guy sharing this small space with you both, it doesn’t feel like you can say a word. Let alone do anything more. 

There’s a small bouncing feeling before the doors crawl open. You spare a glance towards the floor number just as Minkyun starts to guide you out of the elevator. With a quick turn left, the two of you quicken your pace a fraction. Minkyun’s hand moves from your hip to your hand, and he turns mid-step in front of you just to draw you close enough to give you the brief kiss modesty had kept you from in the elevator.

Delighted, breathy laughter leaves you when he pulls back and turns to unlock his door. You lean into his side, arms wrapping around his middle, hands pressed tight against the cotton of his t-shirt. As if to make up for the time stolen by that damn elevator. 

Minkyun turns the handle and pushes open the front door. You unwind yourself from around him to follow him in. “Sorry if it’s a little messy still,” he says, letting you step ahead of him. You aren’t looking for any mess. You turn around to see him lean back on the door to close it, his hands behind his back -- like he needs to restrain himself. 

You grin at him and reach up to undo the first few buttons on your blouse. “I had a really nice time tonight, Minkyun,” you tell him. His gaze flickers between the newly exposed skin of your chest and your eyes. 

He looks nearly guilty when he smiles. “Me too.” He stays exactly where he is, shoulders pressed back against his front door.

“...Do I have the wrong idea?” You ask as you reach the last button of your shirt. Minkyun shakes his head frantically. 

“I hope not,” he says.  

You laugh and shrug your shirt off to let it fall on his floor. “Come here,” you tell him. 

He does, and proves to be unable to keep his hands off you once you're in reach. 

This kiss has far more fervor to it than the one from the hallway. From the instant his lips touch yours, it feels as if it’s not quite enough. The two of you press closer together, mouths parting and jaws angling to seek out the feeling of more. 

Minkyun settles one hand at your nape, but the other roams across your shoulders, slides down your spine and rounds to your hip before exploring back upwards. 

After some fraction of time -- impossible to tell how long, with the way such keen kisses can play with its perception -- he starts to guide you backwards. The steps are slow, distracted by the heat of eager lips and tangled tongues. 

Eventually, though, you feel the edge of a couch cushion against the back of your calves. Your hands slip out from under Minkyun’s shirt but stop to grasp at its hem. 

When you lean away from him, breaking off the kiss, you find yourself quickly distracted from your mission of undressing him. “Oh my god,” you manage through a stunned laugh. You let go of his shirt to cup his face. 

“What? What?” He is halfway from his lusty haze to panic already from your sudden change, his voice cracking up into a higher tone.

“I got lipstick all over you,” you tell him. With your thumb, you try to wipe some of the dark red pigment from the side of his mouth. A realization hits you a moment into the endeavor, and your hand moves to cover your own lips. “Oh, I must look awful!”

Minkyun reaches up and wraps his fingers lightly around your lips, tugging to get you to move from hand from your face. You follow his lead and murmur out an apology with a sheepish chuckle. 

“You look amazing,” he says. The panic is gone, evidently. A little makeup out of place is not enough to unsettle him. 

“I have some wipes in my bag, I can clean it off and then-” you start to suggest, but Minkyun shakes his head and wraps an arm around you. 

“Forget that,” he insists, and pulls you in to kiss again.  

His face would not be the last place you left lipstick stains that night.

[lxveille]

Minkyun + beginning? For the flash fic thing... Thank you I love you

title: beginning at the end word count: ~ 1060 warnings: a swear word happens a/n: time travel??au  inspired by mk’s pirate look from sukhumvit swimming.

one word prompt flash fics; still accepting !

You don’t know where you are. Worse, you don’t know when you are. 

Your head feels dizzy, eyes bleary. Your skin is flushed and dry despite the humidity around you. More than anything, you long for a large glass of water, if not a massive pool to plunge yourself into to wake up your sense again. The symptoms are all there, the way people said it would be. There’s no mistaking what’s happened to you.

It’s the sort of you thing you’d always considered your friends anxious for fearing happening to them. You laughed lightly at each of them who purchased a KeeperBand. 

“Did you know an estimated 73 percent of timequake victims remain lost in time due to forgetting their time of origin?” You can still recall the advertisement asking. “Never risk losing track of when you belong,” it promised. You chalked it up to little more than an expensive watch with a pause button feature. 

Now, as you glance at your bare wrist, you wish that you had been a bit more anxious.

You don’t know how long you walk through the dark and fog, seeking out a landmark. Or any sign of other people at all. All you can make out are shadows, some smooth and others in sharp angles of ruins. Whenever this is, you hope it’s far away from when you belong. 

It feels as if hours have passed, like there should be some sign of a sun ready to rise by now. The sky remains just as dark. Your goal shifts from finding help to simply finding somewhere to rest. 

That’s why you trace your steps back along the rocky path until you’re at the mouth of a cave you had passed by without much thought earlier. 

To your dismay, a search from some safe-seeming corner at the back of the cave turns to a discovery you hadn’t asked for. The rough stone walls change, smoothing out to metal. You keep close to one side and try to step lightly. Still, every footfall echoes against the metallic tiles. 

Eventually, the hallway lets out to a large, crowded space. Piles of boxes make the room feel bigger and cramped at the same time. In the center of the room sits a strange device, tall with rusted arms outstretched to the platform around it. Several screens line the middle column of the device, flickering with static. 

You go towards the machinery, uneasy but hopeful that maybe this might provide some kind of escape. Or at least some kind of answer. Just as you’re about to reach out towards one of the panels of buttons, you’re startled into a quick spin around by a voice that asks, 

��Lost?” 

Your body tenses, heart quickening. Sat cross-legged atop one of the wooden boxes is a man, appearing around your age, with a grin on his expression that does suit this place, black hair a mess over the white band of cloth tied around his forehead. You’re not sure what to make of him. Nothing about him seems altogether threatening, but you take a step back all the same. 

“I’m guessing yes,” he continues, legs unfolding and hopping down from the container. “Most people that mean to come here usually do so armed.” 

“Look, I don’t know what this place is,” you tell him quickly, “I’m not trying to… I don’t want anything of yours.” It’s the best you can come up with. 

He looks you over again. “Timequake?” he asks. You nod, and suppose that might have been a better thing to mention directly yourself. “This ever happened to you before?” 

“Not to anyone I actually know.”

“Ah.” He passes by you to one of the console screens of the odd machine, pulling up a window of code that looks like gibberish to you. “I’m guessing you’ve come a long way to get here then.” 

You take a small step back, off the machine’s platform for a wider breadth of space between you and him. “When is here, anyway?”

He looks over to you and, as if it were the simplest explanation possible, he tells you, “The end of the world.” 

“What?”

“I know.” He nods, nearly solemnly, save for a slight upwards tilt in his lips. “And when did you come from?”

You start with a confident, “It was…” and then stare at him in wordless awe. How is it possible that you can’t answer that question? 

The thought must be obvious in your expression. “The larger time increment you’re displaced, the quicker it is to forget details,” he tells you. “You probably aren’t from a time that’s figured that out exactly yet, given.”

“Oh, fuck.” What else is there to say? 

He turns more towards you and leans against the machine. “I can help you, if you want.” 

Your brow crinkles, lips tucking into a line. “Why would you do that?”

“What? A guy can’t smuggle some stuff through time and still want to be a good samaritan?” A small, bubbly chuckle follows his words. It’s not the sort of tone you’d expect at all from someone confessing to any kind of crime. But he says it so easily, like it is nothing to worry about at all. 

“It does sound contradictory.” 

He shrugs, and turns his attention back to the screen. “Well, you know where to find me if you do want help!” The strangest thing, probably, is that he doesn’t sound smug or teasing about it at all. From the best you can sense, it’s a genuine offer. 

And if what he says about this being the end of time is true, it might be the only offer you’ll come across. 

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and step back up onto the round platform. He looks to you once again, a bright kind of curiosity on his face. 

“What’s your name?” you ask. “If you’re going to help me, we should start with actual introductions.” 

He reaches up and pulls at one of the necklaces hanging down beneath the fabric of his shirt. Between his fingers is a round, silver charm, slightly tarnish and engraved with something you’re too far away to make out. He does you the favor of reading it aloud: “MK.”

“Okay… MK,” you repeat and hold out a hand to him. “Where do we start?”

[lxveille]

MK, at the crack of dawn, in an empty stairway ^^

title: invitationword count: ~ 1200warnings: none a/n: scifi/dystopian!au. my first time attempting to write onf at all.

It’s early. Early enough that the sky is still bleeding navy blue and violet overhead. Early enough that the LED banners lining sidewalks have yet to turn on with their usual rotation of ads and reminders of the law. No need to waste the electricity on signs no one would be out to see. They know without a doubt that no one will be out on the streets to see it during curfew hours. There’s state officials who spend all day and night in monitoring stations, dispatching forces needed whenever a citizen’s chip pings in and reports their location to be anywhere they’re not meant to be.

Far more effective than security cameras, they said. With the added bonus of providing microtech to every citizen. All at no cost to the people, boasted heads of state who bore smiles that had put you at unease for years. It took time for you to be able to name why. To figure out that they knew better than anyone that nothing is really priceless.

It’s early – but cutting it close. Once the sun’s up entirely, there will be blaring lights from screen on the streets and a bustle of people. If Minkyun isn’t back before then, you can’t be entirely sure you’ll ever see him again.

Your nerves are nearing some kind of breaking point, you’re certain.

Then there’s a clatter of feet on the metal stairway that zigs and zags across the front of your  building. Before you can truly be relaxed, you step carefully out of the doorway of your apartment and onto the meshed metal of the walkway. Making as close to no sound as you can, you move to the rusting railing and peer over to try to get a look at whoever is making their way up.

A flash of a familiar dyed hair and a gray sweatshirt has you stepping back with a long sigh of relief.

Minkyun pauses when he rounds the corner of the landing one floor below only to spot you standing out in the faint, yellow light of morning. It’s only for an instant, though, before he carries on up the tarnish steps.

“Morning,” he greets. As if it were a perfectly standard situation. Maybe there was a time when it could be. Or a place. It’s certainly not in your carefully monitored city.

“You were out late.” You make no effort of disguise your disapproval.

“Yeah,” he agrees breathlessly. Either from all the stairs he’s done or from whatever thrills he found in the night.

“Minkyun,” you say his name like a warning as he reaches the walkway of your floor. His expression shifts slightly at that, predicting already where this is going. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going.”  

“The tick’s programmed to ping off whatever location its supposed to,” he reminds you. As if it were an excuse. As if you hadn’t had the exact same thing done to your chip as soon as the hack had been figured out. “Apartment, work, and back. You know.”

You know, or else you wouldn’t even be standing in front of him now. Still, you click your tongue in reprimand. “One of these days, someone’s gonna figure out the loop. Or notice the proxies,” you half-whisper, “Or else you’ll be farther away from the apartment than you could possibly be right at the end of curfew hours and someone will report you.”

“I’m fine.” If it were anyone else, you’d have taken it as a total dismissal of your concerns. With Minkyun, though, and the steady way he looks at you, you can tell he wants it to be a reassurance more than anything else. “I’m back now, aren’t I?” With that, his face pulls into a smile that seeks to draw you in. It’s half-tempting to, the warmth of his expression making him easily forgivable.

You cross your arms, determined. “Barely.”

He looks around quickly, if there were danger nearby. Or like he’d misplaced something. (Danger, though, tends to come to your mind first.) “Eh? Did I leave part of me behind?” he feigns bewilderment. You nearly crack a smile at the act.

“Maybe your head,” you play into it, while hoping to still retain some sense of gravity about the situation. He gives you a helpless, imploring smile. Don’t be mad, or don’t be so hard on me, it says. You shift your shoulders and let your hands fall back to your side before stepping back towards your apartment’s entrance.

Minkyun moves quickly, fingertips catching your elbow before you can try to slip inside in a huff. If you’re behind a locked door, he can’t reassure himself you’re not really cross with him, after all. He pulls himself close to you rather than dragging you back. You put up no resistance to his new proximity. Neither stepping aside nor trying to shake his hold off your arm.

“Come out with me tonight,” he urges you. It’s a warm whisper that nearly tickles at the side of your neck. “I wanna show you something.”

You don’t let yourself face him. “And stay out until dawn?” you ask. The force you’d had behind your words before all but washed out. Still, there’s enough of a bite of criticism to your tone for Minkyun to catch it.    

“We can tell Hyojin where we’re heading,” he barters. He’s citing the eldest among your small cell of resistance to make as much of a plea from authority as lawbreakers like yourselves can get.

Your eyes dart from his hand upon your elbow to your doorknob. Then down to the metal beneath your feet, and back again. Finally you cave, and turn your head only just enough to allow your gaze to meet his.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

Minkyun’s smile blossoms, utterly unable to hide his happiness at your agreement. And he closes the distance between the two of you in a promising kind of kiss you’d grown particularly fond for in the past few weeks. Along with the rush of something still secret; not only from the government, but from your cell as well. It last only a moment before he breaks it off. He glances over his shoulder hastily, trying to judge the time by exactly how much further the sun has left to rise. “Surprise,” he answers you in a breath when he looks back to you.

You send him a look that makes it clear that isn’t the reply you’d hoped for.

He gives you a gentle push against your front door, silently telling you time is running short. That the two of you need to be back behind your own locks before neighbors start stumbling out from behind theirs. “I’ll tell him. I swear,” he addresses your unspoken worry. He places a second, even briefer kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Let it be a surprise for you.”

His fingers squeeze your arm lightly, a small confession of how he doesn’t really want to leave. But Minkyun does, moving quickly down the metalwork to get to his own apartment. You wait until after he glances back and waves at you with an excitement deserving of a less harsh world before you open your door and step back inside.

The lock clicks behind you. You sigh only to find yourself grinning.

Really, you don’t what you’re going to do with Minkyun.

[yoongizzzedits]