MINORS DNI. Sucking On His Fingers. Minho's Pov.

MINORS DNI. sucking on his fingers. minho's pov.

Sweet. That's how he'd describe you. His sweet girl. Even as you kneel on the floor with his fingers in your hot little mouth. Even as your eyes water from taking them a little too deep. Even as your lips glisten with spit.

He settles a little more into the couch cushions as you look up at him from your position between his knees. It's easier to spread a little more like this, adjust himself as his cock throbs in his sweats.

Then your fingers wrap around his wrist lightly, a comforting hold more than anything else. He was the one in control, pressing his fingers between your lips almost rhythmically as he prepares you to take him properly. He finds himself in a trance at a few points, fixated on the little facial expressions you make — on the way your eyes close and your nose scrunches when you're a little too eager.

And then there's your mouth. Warm, plush lips and hot little tongue getting his fingers all messy. It's the messiness he likes. His sweet girl all messy just for him.

A small sound slips from your throat, the kind of sound that makes him want to fall forward and press you into the floor. Fuck you into it. It's so fucking sweet.

"Alright?"

You blink at him, lashes fluttering. Then you nod, moist lips still wrapped around his fingers — unwilling to give them up.

Time slows in moments like these. He knows it's a memory forming; it's something he'll think about on night's you're gone, in lonely showers with the same fingers wrapped around his leaking cock.

He'll think about this. He'll remember how warm you are, how fucking warm and wet and sweet. He'll remember the little whines and whimpers as you wordlessly reassure him you love this almost as much as he does.

Then your bottom lip relaxes and your mouth is dropping open, tongue lolling out a little — the tips of his fingers resting on your slippery tongue.

"Fuck," he breathes, dragging his fingers down slowly over your bottom lip in awe.

Then he's hooking his finger under your chin and lifting your head a little more, forcing your mouth closed. You look at him in a way that stirs something heavy in his chest, like you're simply waiting for what he will do next. Trust. Love. He can't pinpoint it exactly, but it has him pressing the palm of his hand into his crotch — desperate not to spill into his pants.

It's a mistake. The moment he draws back from you — dropping his head back against the couch — you're crawling up onto his lap. He grips your hips before your get too close; before you put any pressure on his twitching cock.

"Wait," he gasps, eyes clenched tight.

You listen. Of course you do. His sweet fucking girl. He presses his wet fingers into your bare skin as he catches his breath, blindly finding the precious little sliver between your top and your underwear.

"Okay," he says eventually, blinking his eyes open as you fall over him — warm lips pressing to his neck before he can even lift his head. He savours it for a moment, the feeling of your body pressing him into the soft cushions — the wetness your lips leave on his skin.

Then he tangles his fingers in your hair and guides you away from his neck gently. He can see the mess you've made much better this close. Your lips are swollen, almost puffy. He's fucking incapable of preventing his mind from spiralling directly to how puffy your cunt looks when he's spent enough time with your legs around his head.

"You're so good," he murmurers before he's even aware of the thought crossing his mind. It's an involuntary slip of the tongue, his subconscious breaking free while he's distracted.

But then your head drops. Shy.

He tugs you forward, lifting your head and mashing his lips to yours. He's not good at words. Not when he's feeling this much. Never in the moments that fucking matter. He'd spent too long wishing it was different. Now he knows the best he can do to compensate is this: he shows you.

Hellohello luv :> been having some fluffy thoughts about skz and okok hear me out:

Them calling a friend/member talking about you but being unaware that you speak Korean and accidentally confessing-

Thats all thank you for your attention mwah kthxbyee <3

omg omg omg idk why but this is so Channie coded to me

Like his phone would ring while you're hanging out and he gets up, trying to at least walk a little ways away before he picks up. But Jisung's voice is still more than loud enough for you to hear where you're on the sofa.

"Jisung-ah?"

"Hi Channie-hyung, I won't disturb you for long, but we're about to head to the studio and we don't know where you keep the hard drive. We wanted to work on that one song from months ago."

"It's all good, top drawer of the desk in my room."

Silence, the sounds of rummaging.

"Got it! Thanks, hyung!"

"Don't lose it, Jisung, I swear."

A silly little giggle.

"Don't worry, Changbin-hyung is here, too, and he will supervise"

"Okay, good."

"No need to worry while you hang out with your future wife."

"Jisung!"

"What! She can't hear me! Or understand me!"

"She's not my future wife."

"Awwww, Channie don't sound so sad. I'm telling you, she likes you, too. You just need to find the confidence to tell her."

I agree, Changbin yells from the back somewhere and Jisung makes a triumphant noise.

"See, Changbin-hyung thinks so, too. Plus, we've seen you together. You're like, meant to be. Two peas in a pod. I can see you already, just like you said, apartment in Seoul, a big, happy dog, small wedding, mind-blowing sex every night until maybe one day you put a baby in her, preferably a little girl ..."

"Jisung, oh my god please," Chan whines and turns around to check on you. You're just scrolling through your phone. He chuckles painfully and digs the heel of his palm into his eyes.

"What are you guys doing right now?"

"Nothing much, eating sushi, watching a movie. She ... She looks very pretty and smells really good."

"Oh, you're so cute, Channie-hyung! So just, you know, do the usual. Put your arm around her, pull her in, put those big old lips to good use. Just make sure you wash your mouth out before you do, sushi breath is stinky."

"I'm never telling you anything ever again, Jisung," Chan deadpans and Jisung laughs, but takes the hint.

"Fine, fine, stew in your unrequited puppy love for the rest of your life, then, see if I care ... which I do, of course, it's the only reason I'm saying all of this."

"I'm hanging up now, Jisung."

"Fine, fine, I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Jisung."

Chan heaves out a giant sigh and takes a moment to collect himself before he turns around and makes his way back to the sofa

"Sorry," he says in English, "Jisung needed a hard drive, him and Changbin have been working on this older song again and he didn't know where it was."

You just nod, looking at him in a way that makes his cheeks heat up. When you open your mouth, he's pretty sure he can feel his heart fall into his ass.

"I'm more of a cat person," you say, your Korean solid, but definitely a little accented, "but I'd definitely also want a girl. And an apartment in the city, that would be a dream."

His heart is thundering in his fucking ears as he watches you, your cheeks flushed with nerves, clutching your phone in your hands until your knuckles turn white. Wait, did you just ...

He leans in, pushing you back until you're splayed out on the sofa underneath him.

"I really fucking like you," he says, in English again. He loves the way your breath hitches, the corners of your mouth ticking upwards.

"I really fucking like you, too," you breathe and that's all he needs before he leans down and presses his lips to yours, sushi breath be damned. And it's a perfectly imperfect kiss, just like you, just like him.

Later he will scold you for never telling him you understood Korean. Later he will give a very confused Jisung a hug and shake him slightly. And at your wedding he will reenact the whole story, with Jisung right next to him, playing himself.

𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐢 ; 𝐥𝐦𝐡

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

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

wc: around 12,1k ;

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

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

⛅︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yah, you little sh-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⛅︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything for you, jagiya.”

⛅︎

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

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

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

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

And you are. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

⛅︎

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

And you feel the exact same way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Minho, I’m serious.”

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

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

“Minho…”

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

“Min…”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Min, what’s up? What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho is beyond confused. “Why?” 

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

“And then I asked you out.”

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

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

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

“Still?”

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

He chuckles. “Ikigai.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⛅︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⛅︎

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

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

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

“But you’re always hot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take me. Minho, take me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you said-“

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

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

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

⛅︎

Dori’s behavior is weird today. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seems like he hates me,” Minho giggles. 

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

“Son of a-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep, they sound perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

“A cup of tea is fine.”

⛅︎

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“Positive.”

⛅︎ 

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

“Which things?” 

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

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

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

“What did he tell you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

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

Positive. 8+ weeks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⛅︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Minho…”

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

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

⛅︎

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

-> 𝐦𝐲 ☕️

Kinktober Day 6

Prompt: Dubcon/Noncon Pairing: Frat!Changbin x fem!reader WC: 2,170 Summary: Changbin’s boys went out for a boys night. Changbin stayed in to stay with you. You stayed in to work on your capstone.  This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Changbin or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

Keep reading

SKZ-TALKER GO! EP 04 LE GALA DES PIÈCES JAUNES

Venus Fly Trap

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x fem!Reader

GENRE: mature (smut)

CONTENT WARNINGS: established relationship, CNC (consensual non-consent) and cnc-related roleplaying that can be triggering to certain audiences, references to drinking alcohol and bar scenes. With that said, this kink is implied to be pre-negotiated in this fic. Please remember before, during, and after reading that these scenes are fictional and do not reflect the idol's personality irl.

WORD COUNT: 3,977k

A/N: I would like to thank 🐌 anonnie for this commission! I hope you like it bubs!!

smut warnings under the cut!

SMUT WARNINGS: cnc, perv!chan (he's a creep), p in v, choking, use of degrading names, fingering, oral (m rec.), unprotected sex, exhibitionism, pain play, also sex without proper prep, there's fluff at the end dw, i think that's it, lmk if i missed anything!

Brandy, cherries, and cola.

The flavors dance on your tongue the same way this stranger— who goes by the name Chan— danced with yours in the bar’s crummy bathroom. You had no plans to meet someone new tonight, your only goal being to get drunk enough to get a mild hangover the day after. And yet somehow, you find yourself in here; between the wall and his body while he licks and nips at your neck teasingly.

It’s embarrassing how a simple, dimpled smile from him had you caving in so quickly. He was charming, impressively so, seeing how effortlessly he carried the conversation without it ever feeling forced or awkward, something that always lingered whenever a random man decided to have some small talk with you during a night out like this. Besides, what better way to strike up a conversation with someone than to ask them if they had a dog? Because, coincidentally, he has one too. With the same breed. Same name. What are the odds?  

Everything just happened so fast. One moment, you were enjoying your own solitude by the bar before he joined in, introducing himself before offering to get you a drink. If it was just any other day, you would have declined, but seeing that pretty smile of his, who could even resist? It didn’t even take you long to realize that his giggles sounded like it was accompanied by a harp played by angels and that his shy demeanor was something that you find way too endearing for you to shoo him away— that's when you know that you were already swept off your feet by him.

So when he asks if you would want to go somewhere more quiet, private, away from the bodies of people raving on the dancefloor, you say yes, letting him pull you into the men's restroom and into the farthest cubicle. 

One second, he’s locking the door, then crashing his lips into yours the next. 

You wondered how many times he has done this before, luring pretty girls in with his seemingly bashful nature only to surprise them that he’s much more of an enigma if anything. His sudden change in demeanor caught you off guard because whatever facade he had moments ago was definitely replaced with someone more confident, headstrong, and assertive, taking the lead once he had you trapped within his arms with his lips on yours in a bruising kiss. 

You’d initially thought he’d take things slow, that he’d take his precious time kissing you gently, borderline romantic, an assumption that you had since he did seem like a guy who’d do something like that. But he didn’t, the rose-colored vision you had about him was immediately broken by this stone called reality that was thrown at the fragile glass. Chan doesn’t let up, not even for breath, and with a rough pace you just came out of nowhere. It was a mash of teeth and tongue, the obscene sounds of heavy making out filtering throughout the empty restroom, mixing with whatever trashy trap music was blasting outside.

At that moment, it had you wondering where the man you just met a few moments ago go. 

The sudden change in his demeanor should have been enough to set off the alarm bells in your head, and hopefully ring loud enough to wake you up to your sense clouded by lust, but your bird brain only welcomed it with arms wrapped around his neck just to pull him closer, close enough to feel his already hard member straining against the front of his jeans. 

A hand heavily gropes your ass while he kisses your neck, his teeth lightly grazing at your sensitive skin, sending a ripple of excitement throughout your body. It even almost made you moan. Your fingers thread through his hair, lightly tugging at it to redirect his lips back to yours. The action makes Chan groan, kissing you again with the same roughness he did from the start. You feel his hands start to roam around your body, over your clothes, feeling every dip and valley before stopping at your chest. Only then did you feel the chills going down your spine the moment he starts kneading one of your breasts, and you swore you felt the urge to push him away and maybe ask him to slow down at first. Things were moving too fast for your liking, and you weren’t looking forward to getting fucked in a cramped bathroom stall tonight. So, you lightly pushed at his chest, hoping that he’d get the message, but he didn't. It only made him nip into your lips before giving your breast a firm squeeze, and for what reason, it felt more of a warning for something you’re not entirely sure of. But still, you pushed at him again, hard enough for him to detach his lips from yours only to go back to kissing your neck— this time with him slightly grinding against your front. If it were any other day, you’d think that his groans sounded so hot, but right now, it only made your heart thrum against your chest in a slight panic with the realization that he’s not stopping. 

“Chan,” you call out to him a bit breathlessly as you try to tug his head away from your neck, “Chan.” He only hums at the sound of his name, his hand finally moving away from your breast but only to trail it down your navel. His hand was already dangerously close to your clothed core before you finally grabbed his wrist to stop him, only then did he finally pull away from you. 

“What’s wrong, sweets? ‘Thought we were gonna do this at some point?” He says with a dazed, and almost dopey look on his face. “Yeah, I—” you gulp, “It’s just that… I think we’re moving a bit too fast?” You didn’t know why, but the longer you looked at him, the more it made you feel like you wanted to shrink into yourself and away from his intense gaze. Suddenly, it’s as if you couldn’t read him, not when his eyes became so void of emotion, no longer matching the small smile he’s sporting on his lips. “Come on, Y/n,” he says, his hands resting on your hips, and you can faintly feel the way his thumbs slightly press into your flesh.

You blink at him, unsure, before sharing an awkward chuckle with him with a shake of your head. “I um…” you feel his grip tighten, tilting his head to the side as he waits for your next words, but judging by the way his smile slowly starts turning sour, you recon that he already knows where this is heading. 

“Tonight has been great and all but,” you paused, trying to gauge his reaction, and you find it funny how you’re suddenly nervous—  as if you’re now walking on eggshells just waiting for him to crack. “I think I should go.” 

You move, trying to create even just a little bit of space for you to get away from him, but he blocks you, now putting one of his hands against the wall to trap you. “Leaving already?” Chan asks, still with the sickly sweet souring smile on his face that has your heart beating frantically in your chest, alarm bells ringing in your head now that you’ve come to the realization that things were quickly going south. 

You gave him a sheepish smile, masking the panic that was slowly bubbling within you, before trying to move away again, but this time he trapped you even more by putting his body closer to yours leaving you no room to escape. 

“Chan, come on, I gotta—” 

“Don’t go yet, please?” He asks, his face mere inches away from yours, his eyes darting to your lips— you’ve never felt this vulnerable and scared in your life before until today. The tension in the air thickens, even more, the moment he locks eyes with you, and suddenly you feel as if you’re claustrophobic with the proximity between the two of you.

He tries kissing you, but you dodge, turning your face away so he can kiss your cheek instead. “Playing hard to get now, are we?” Chan briefly comments before leaning in to kiss you again, an attempt that fails yet again as you dodge him the second time. He drops his head and then scoffs, his fringe falling over his face making it hard to see his expression, but you catch a glimpse of him licking his lips before breaking out into a toothy, open-mouth smile as he pokes his tongue against his cheek. “And here I thought you were easy,” you hear him mumble under his breath with a shake of his head. Appalled, you look at him incredulously, fear momentarily forgotten because of the sheer shock you felt because of his words. “Excuse me?” 

“Come on, sweetheart. Aren’t you here for a quick fuck?” 

“What? No! Jesus, what made you think that?!” 

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? In the men’s bathroom? With me?”

You hear the sound of skin hitting skin before you even realize that you’ve slapped him— slapped him hard enough to leave his cheek throbbing with a dull ache that settled on his jaw— and you wished that the earth would just swallow you right then and there for what you’ve done.

When he turns to look at you again, his free hand cradling his face, the smile he’d put up is no longer there anymore, replaced by a clenched jaw and eyes that just made your insides scream run, run, run!

Yet you stood still, out of fear and pride, facing him with your chin held high and unblinking eyes, hoping that he’d get the message that you’re not as easy as he thinks you are. 

“I was hoping I’d go easy with you tonight,” he huffs out, his hand reaching out to grab your face, his thumb harshly digging into your cheeks that has you struggling to escape his hold with your hands tugging at his wrist, “Especially after seeing this pretty face of yours.” Despite digging your nails into his skin, he doesn’t budge, not even when you try to tug at it as hard as you can. 

“I’ll give you another chance, yeah?” Chan says and he finally, finally, lets go of you. He reaches out again to touch you but you quickly swat his hand away with a glare and a shove. “Stay. Away.” You warn him and all Chan does in response is chuckle in the most demeaning way possible, as if he knows that your little warning poses no real threat to him. 

He grabs you by the hips before quickly pulling you toward him, catching you off guard and landing on his chest with an ‘oof’. “Come on, baby. Just the tip, I promise. What do you say?” He whispers against your ear, his lips just barely brushing against the shell. 

“You fucking asshole!” You curse, shoving him before spitting right at his face, absolutely fuming in anger. Chan was taken aback at what you did, angrily wiping his face with his hand before grabbing you before you could even push the door open. With a surprised squeal, he pushes you against the wall while he swiftly locks the cubicle again, your effort to escape immediately going down the drain. 

“Listen here, you bitch,” he says as he pins you with his body, his warm breath hitting the skin of your cheek. “I’m gonna take what’s mine and fuck you right here, ya hear me?” He lightly shoves you again for good measure, making you whimper, your breath hitching in fear as you clutch the wall in front of you. “Answer me,” another shove, then you nod as best as you can despite having your face squished against the wall. 

Your heart pounds hard against your chest, loud enough to hear your own pulse in your ears, as he starts unbuttoning your jeans just so he can shove his hand in. “Chan, please,” you whimper, wincing at the sound of your own zipper going down. “Don’t do this, please.” He doesn’t answer you, nor listen because he shamelessly cups your core over your panties.

Then he huffs, amused. 

“You sure you don’t want this?” He asks, his fingers putting pressure against your clothed clit which he seems to find right away. “I can feel you soaking through your underwear, babe.” Your face heats up at his words, and a moan almost threatens to slip past your lips the moment he presses again. “N-no,” you stutter out, and you wanna curse at your body for basically betraying you. You weren’t supposed to like this, him touching you in the most perverted way possible that is, and yet here you are, pleasure buzzing throughout your body every time he manages to rub your clit the right way despite having a barrier of clothing in between. 

“Chan I–” you gasp when he suddenly shoves your pants down together with your underwear, the action leaving you bare for him to see. “Chan, no! Oh god, stop— please don’t look!” You pleaded, even going as far as trying to cover yourself, but Chan was quick to grab both your knees and pin them behind your back, pushing you against the wall so that you could arch your back and present your ass toward him.

“Why even cover yourself, sweetheart?” He asks, and you feel him putting his fingers on your embarrassingly wet cunt, fingers pushing through your folds. “I can’t believe you even dared to hide this pretty pussy of yours. Did you really think I’d leave without having a taste first?” He spends his precious time just toying with you, admiring how your slick coats his digits and how your body tries so hard not to react with the pleasure that was getting so hard to ignore. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You can feel good,” he says, dipping the tips of his finger against your hole until your knees threaten to buckle from under you. “N-no,” you say with a shake of your head, “Doesn’t f-feel good.” It really doesn’t, not when all he does was tease you, only rubbing your cunt through your folds and purposefully avoiding your aching bud. Perhaps this was his revenge, riling you up to the point where you forgot that you never wanted this in the first place, which again, he does ever so effortlessly the same when he managed to lure you in. Maybe he really is right, you think. Maybe you are easy, no less easy than the fly who falls victim to the sweet nectar of a Venus fly trap. Before you knew it, he had clamped down on you the same way the jaws of the carnivorous plant snap close to capture its prey. 

“No?” He says with faux sympathy, finally shoving his middle finger inside and he almost moans at the feeling of your walls clenching around his digit, warm and velvety and so, so snug for lack of better words. “Well, that isn’t really my problem now, is it?” You hear the telltale sound of metal clinking and you realize that he’s undoing his belt. You shake your head, muttering no, no, no before looking over your shoulder in horror. “Chan, what are you–” 

“Does it matter?” he cuts you off with his head tilted and his brow raised. “Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place? Don’t tell me you’re still playing hard to get.” Chan scoffs out, pushing his pants down his thighs before palming his now hard cock over the thin fabric of his boxers. You thrash against him, which really was a mistake because it only managed to shove Chan’s finger even deeper, you swore it nearly grazed your cervix, making you shudder almost instantly. “Stay fucking still,” he tells you, almost like a command, while he stills you by holding your hip in place just so he could shove another finger inside.

“I don’t think you’d be needing that much prep,” he says after a while of wiggling his fingers in your hole, experimentally pulling it out before pushing it right back in, purposefully missing your sweet spot. “Not like you really need it.” He pulls his fingers out just to spread your wetness all over your cunt just to prove a point before putting it right back in. 

It’s embarrassing to hear the loud noises of your cunt  every time he moves his fingers, the lewd wet sounds echoing throughout the bathroom, and if anyone were to come in, they’d definitely know right away what the two of you are doing. But then the idea of Chan possibly fucking you without prep makes you clench around his fingers as an attempt to push them out and definitely not because of how aroused you felt with the idea. 

“Be good for me now, yeah?” He says, leaning over your body just so he can press his chest against your back while pulling his cock out of the confines of his boxers. You shake your head once again, telling him no for the nth time of the night, but he only shuts you up by putting the very same fingers that were inside your pussy into your mouth to shut you up before pushing his cock inside you without any room for adjusting. The sting of the intrusion makes your eyes water and squeal around his fingers, your breathing erratic as you can physically feel your cunt throbbing around the size of his girth. Chan groans at the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, even more so when he starts moving, fucking you as if he already owns your body. Every thrust sends your body forward into the wall, making you use your arms to stabilize yourself and keep yourself from hitting your face against the wall. 

“Such a tight fucking cunt, babe. Can’t believe you would even keep this from me,” he pants out, fucking you hard enough to let out huffs of your own pleasure, tiny, quiet moans coming out muffled as the sting slowly turns into pleasure, especially when the curve of his cock is just enough to make it hit your sweet spot. 

You feel his fingers dig into your hip as he pulls you against him to meet his thrust, and you are sure that you’ll wake up with bruises the size of his fingertips tomorrow. But at this point, it’s like you wouldn’t even mind, not when you already start to feel fuzzy from the pleasure his cock was giving you, drooling around his fingers with your own spit dribbling from your chin. 

The sound of skin against skin, his heavy set of balls smacking against your clit, and his moans that bounced with every thrust were enough to make you feel your orgasm slowly building up like a rubber that’s pulled too tight threatening to snap. And Chan knows you’re close if not with the way you just got wetter, your essence forming a ring at the base of his cock, with your tight pussy clenching around him nonstop, so he pulls his fingers from your mouth just to hear the pretty noises you were making. 

You can get caught like this, the both of you know, and every time you remember it makes your heart skip a beat or two. You definitely don’t want to get caught per se, but the idea itself makes the skipped beat from your heart appear in your cunt, you know? 

“C-close,” you mutter, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he decides to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you closer against him so he can just press himself against your back, deepening his strokes until he feels you cum around him with a silent scream, your eyes crossed as you twitch and shake against his hold as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. “There ya go,” he comments before nibbling at your ear. “I could have made you cum like this moments ago if you weren’t being so fucking difficult.” 

Just then, before Chan could even focus on chasing his orgasm, the door to the public bathroom opens and a drunk man stumbles in, and he was quick to pull out of you and push you to the floor to shove his cock in your mouth, the sound of you gagging when his cock reaches the back of your throat silenced by the sounds of the drunk man throwing up a few stalls away. You had to breathe through your nose and blink your tears away, and you thought that Chan would stop right here and wait for the person to leave so he could continue, but he didn’t. Instead, he wraps his hand around your throat, choking you, while his other hand threads through your hair before gripping at your roots just so he could move you against his cock, moving your head back and forth like a toy for him to use. 

You try to not gag every time he pushes you too deep, so you try to focus on smelling his musk and the taste of his precum mixed with your own juices in your mouth, anything to keep you focused on staying quiet until the man leaves. It’s a shame that even in this moment you think that the stranger you just met an hour ago looks so pretty with his face contorted in pleasure. His plush bottom lip is caught between his teeth and he’s got sweat beading on his temples, and you could see just how much he’s trying to stay quiet too. 

When you finally hear the sound of the toilet flushing followed by the bathroom door opening and closing, Chan lets go, keeping your head in place before shallowly thrusting into your mouth before he cums. “F-fuuuuuuck yeah, baby. Shit, did so fucking well for me.” Streaks of his hot cum shoot down your throat before he pulls out just enough to get the last bits of his release on your tongue. 

His chest heaves as he comes down from his high, gently pulling you off his cum just so he could watch you open your mouth just to show how much there is in your mouth before swallowing it with a satisfied giggle. 

“Fucking hell,” Chan comments with a breathless chuckle, watching you take his softening cock back inside your mouth just to ‘clean’ him off until he hisses with overstimulation. “H-hah— that’s enough, baby, please,” he says with a wince, finally breaking character, so you pull off with a pop before giving the tip of his cock a kiss with a sweet giggle. Chan then helps you up before pulling you into his arms, immediately attacking your face with so many kisses, making you whine and break into a smile. “Channie, nooo,” you squeal out, “stop!” 

“‘M not stopping,” he says, his dimples making an appearance on his handsome face as he smiles at you. “Gonna give you so many kisses for being such a good girl for me.”

“You can give it to me later, you know?” You say with a smile before giving a kiss on the tip of his nose. “We might get caught if we stay like this!” 

“You’re worried about that now?” He jokes before helping you put your pants up and straighten your clothes. “Yes now,” you retort. “I was busy getting railed by my boyfriend earlier! Of course, I worry about it now!” 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about anything, Mrs. Bang,” Chan teases, giving you a forehead kiss. “I’ll fuck you again the moment we get home. This time, we’re definitely not getting caught.”