youâre telling me! thanks for reading <3
bf!skz when theyâre needy
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
â©pairing: ot8 x gn!readerÂ
â©genre(s): fake texts, smut
â©warnings: mdni, strong language, mentions of sex, pet names (cockslut, baby, doll etc etc), genshin, cbat
â©requested: yes
â©authorâs note: i merged the request of skz being needy and on a sexy time ban together and madeâŠthis. personally, i donât see what jeongin did wrong đ§đŸââïžđ§
chris (heâs been moving mad on bbl atm someone please make his delusions a reality)
minho
changbin
hyunjin
jisung
felix
seungmin
jeongin
Ê hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting  and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated á”Ì É
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.Â
© 2024 diddybokÂ
general taglist:Â Â @spacegirlstuff @chengmeiauau @elisiexoxo
if you would like to be added to the general taglist or removed, let me know in the comments, send an ask or message me!
2K notes
·
View notes
glad you enjoyed, thanks for reading! <3
bf!skz when theyâre needy
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
â©pairing: ot8 x gn!readerÂ
â©genre(s): fake texts, smut
â©warnings: mdni, strong language, mentions of sex, pet names (cockslut, baby, doll etc etc), genshin, cbat
â©requested: yes
â©authorâs note: i merged the request of skz being needy and on a sexy time ban together and madeâŠthis. personally, i donât see what jeongin did wrong đ§đŸââïžđ§
chris (heâs been moving mad on bbl atm someone please make his delusions a reality)
minho
changbin
hyunjin
jisung
felix
seungmin
jeongin
Ê hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting  and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated á”Ì É
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.Â
© 2024 diddybokÂ
general taglist:Â Â @spacegirlstuff @chengmeiauau @elisiexoxo
if you would like to be added to the general taglist or removed, let me know in the comments, send an ask or message me!
2K notes
·
View notes
omg aw bless you! thank you for reading!!đ
born to die | minho
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
â©pairing: minho x gn!reader
â©genre(s): ANGST, fluff, smut, non-idol!au, switch!minho
â©warnings: death, smoking, pet names, sexual themes (18+) sex (unprotected- pls use protection!), explicit language, people watching (not sexual!) [anything else i have missed]
â©summary: a story based on the song âborn to dieâ by lana del ray. minho was the chosen victim iâm afraid.
â©wc: 5k (5,046)
â©authorâs note: i am so sorry.
donât make me sad, donât make me cry.
Cold, wet, miserable. The transition from autumn to winter makes itself known harsher than it has ever done before. As the wind cries, an acrimonious chill soars through the air looking to communicate with the souls that are derived of their light.
Minho walks down the desolate street playing with his lighter. A custom made lighter; a muted grey with the engraving of a peacock feather on it. A gift he got on his birthday from an old friend. It packs quite a punch he must say.
He takes one last long drag from his cigarette, taking back the nicotine to fill his lungs before freeing the smoke to dance through the smog. It feels familiar, the taste of nicotine on his tongue. It has been a while since he has smoked. He didnât miss it per-say, but fuck did it have its way of ebbing the pain.
A brown weathered bench comes into his line of view. He sits at this bench so much that he has assessed the best and worst parts of it to sit on. He collapses down, slightly off-centre and releases a long sigh.
Dawn is his favourite time of the day. The route he can walk with his eyes closed allows him to pass by the type of people he finds pleasure in watching. Minho was adroit at reading people. He much preferred to observe rather than enter a conversation in which he would need to cue his laughs and pretend to be sympathetic towards people who, he concluded, deserved nothing but to get castrated.
05:29am, right on time. Paul flits around the corner and continues down the path. Minho monitors the morning runner closely, counting his steps. Usually Paul does four hundred down this path before he is out of sight. His strides are longer today, seems he wants to get his run over and done with.
Minho likes Paul, though heâs never interacted with him. He needs not to, him watching from afar every dawn for the past ten months has made Paul the closest person he can refer to as a friend in his life currently.
Sad? Far worse. Depressing.
Things in his life changed drastically when you left him. YouâŠyour name leaves a vexatious taste in his mouth. It ireâs him just how easily you ruined him. He didnât think he could possibly hate anyone on this planet as much as he does you. All because you broke the promises you made him.
He hates you. He doesnât think he will ever stop hating you. He canât, he wonât.
The friends he did have, he casted them aside. Dropped them like a tree ridding itself of its leaves. Every now and then one of his old friends, Chris, checks up on him. Whether it be sending him a letter -Minho had blocked his number- or a care package. He canât deny the fact that it really pisses him off.
There goes Vanessa, or as people formally call her, Miss Phillips. He discovered that she is a teacher who specialises in helping children with special needs. Minho is quite fond of Vanessa. He usually likes to guess what style her hair will be next. She untucks her hair from her coat, braids. He hisses and shakes his head slightly as he guessed wrong again.
Minho reaches for the cold flip lighter and runs his thumb over the engraving. Never one to believe in superstitions, he thinks about the argument on whether a peacock feather brings good or bad luck.
It attracted the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this world. For that, he was beyond grateful for this small object. Until the thing that was so beautiful became cold, unknown, and cause him the worst ache of all. Ache from the heart that shattered into many, many minuscule pieces. One that he knows can never be meticulously mended.
He shouldnât be thinking about that, about you. His therapist strongly advises against such and directs him to remember his two little people he keeps an eye on. âPaul and Vanessa, just think about Paul and Vanessa. You have formed some sort of relationship with them in which you have developed a fidelity. They arenât any the wiser, but they are a reason for you holding on and gravitating your mind to moving forward.â His therapist had said.
Minhoâs hands start to shake and not due to the cold air. He curses to himself as he opens his cigarette box to find it empty. He was perturbed by his thoughts and needed to rid his growing anxiety before he has an attack.
The universe astutely discerns the situation, for a small friendly body rubs against his calf. Purring fills his senses and he looks down to see the stray cat staring up at him.
The cat seems to mimic his every move. He lifts an arm, the cat lifts its paw to touch his leg. He tilts his head, the cat does the same. If Minho clenches his fist tightly in his lap, then the cat rubs on his calf to soothe him.
It doesnât take long for a decision to be made, for he and the cat coalesce. He gently picks it up and continues his journey home. The cat immediately becoming the third most important thing in his life.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
come and take a walk on the wild side. let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain.
âHoney?â
âIn here!â
Minho follows the sound of your voice, finding you snuggled up in a blanket snacking on some popcorn and listening to some music. You turn to acknowledge him and he physically feels his heart swell. The way you look at him with such light and love is enough for it to be his main source of oxygen. God he is painfully in love with you.
âHello my darling, how was work?â You ask with a tilt of your head. His heart skipped a beat.
âIt was irritating,â he moves to lay on you, resting his head on your stomach as your hands find their way to his head, âChris is annoying me again.â He says with a roll of his eyes. You chuckle lightly at that.
âDid he put his lunch in your designated spot in the fridge again? Or was it that he offered you an iced latte instead of an Americano? Oh! Maybe he asked whether you were free this weekend and asked you to hang out? Or-â
You are cut off with a rambunctious groan that makes you erupt in a fit of laughter. Minho goes to roll off you irked by your teasing, but you trap him with your legs and apologise by smothering his face in kisses.
Hearing just some of the things that he relayed to you about his days at work made him sound ridiculous for even being annoyed at such things.
You have an extraordinary way of doing that. Reminding him that heâs being too pessimistic about life without explicitly saying so. He realistically doesnât need to be pessimistic anymore. Not when he has you in his life, you are warm sun to shine through his cold grey skies.
Itâs astounding just how long he was able to survive before you. You have moulded him unknowingly into a man capable of loving someone to an extent which is unearthly. He is your paean to how beautiful love can be and you are his saviour.
âWhatâs going on in that pretty head?â You ask, rubbing your hands up and down his back. It should not surprise him how well you know him.
âDo you know how much you mean to me? I canât breathe without you Y/n. Thatâs frightening. I never thought I could genuinely be so happy. I never knew what love was until you yâknow?â Minho says.
He can feel your breath quicken and your heartbeat increase, but youâre silent. So he continues.
âI truly think, no, I know you make me a better man. I donât know why I am being sentimental right now, I think you have me in a lifelong trance.â He lifts his head up, resting his chin on your chest. He watches a tear fall from your eye. He wishes in that exact moment, that he could read peopleâs minds. Read your mind.
âWhy must you do that to me unprovoked?â You sob. Itâs his turn to comfort you as he manoeuvres his way out of the position you both currently hold. He lifts you gently and places you on top of him to which you bury your face in his neck.
The pitter-patter of rain starts to make itself known as the weather mimics your mood. Minho enjoys the rain though, it soothes him. Much like you soothe him. Itâs strange, he can see the similarities between you and droplets of rain. Both refresh and cool him down when heâs too hot. Both make sounds that immediately puts him into a tranquil state. Both necessary to the world to make the flowers bloom and the grass look greener.
You are his rain.
He runs his fingers along your spine as you mutter incomprehensible words. If he had to guess you are telling him that heâs a villain for making you feel such a way randomly in the day. You referred to him as such before.
Minho is a prick, albeit a lovable one; a prick nonetheless. He loves the way you react to his spontaneous outbursts of reasons why he loves you. Maybe itâs the way you look so adorable when you cry. Maybe itâs the way you will always cling to him after he does so. Whatever the reason, it only makes his heart grow fonder.
The room is filled with your sniffles here and there, low music, and the sound of heavy rain hitting the window.
Minho lays with you, his eyes closed, swaying you gently.
âDo you want to go and play in the rain?â He says breaking the rhythm of sounds.
âDo I want to go and play in the rain?â You echo, laughing, âNo, I donât want to get my hair wet.â
âYou can wear my hoodie and my raincoat?â He suggests. You look up at him, sitting up fully. He just smiles at you, awaiting your response.
âYou really are seriousâŠwow.â
âItâll be fun, come on!â He exclaims picking you up with him as he gets up from the sofa. He goes to grab a hoodie of his, one of your favourite ones to wear. He tucks your hair inside of the hood and pulls the drawstrings to tighten it around your face.
He laces the string with a bow and kisses the tip of your nose. He then runs to get his raincoat and swiftly encloses you inside of it. He laughs at you.
âWhat?â You say feigning annoyance with a tilt of your head.
âNothingâŠâ He hums with laughter. âYou just remind me of an Ewokâ He laughs pinching your cheeks. You scrunch your face up due to the attack of his fingers and try to bat him away.
âYou basically just called me a tiny bear.â You groan.
âMy cute tiny bear. Come.â He grabs your hand and leads you towards the front door so you can both put on your shoes. He glances you way, shooting you an âAre you ready?â look, to which you just roll your eyes at him.
He doesnât give you another second to change your mind, him basically lifting you off your feet and into the empty street. You squeal as the rain comes down hard, instantaneously soaking both Minho and you.
Minho closes his eyes and raises his head to the sky, letting the rain trickle down his face. He laughs and then looks down at you. Staring up at him, you look at him like he is the only person ever. He scans your face, taking in your beauty. He is too in awe to speak, instead choosing to try and contain his smile by biting his lip. It doesnât work.
âIâll love you forever.â You say loudly over the rain. Minhoâs heart stops beating for several moments.
âPromise me that, my love.â He says, cupping your face in both of his hands. His thumbs rest just beneath your eyes and he wipes the water away from them.
âI promise.â
He kisses you deeply, lovingly, passionately. And the both of you stand there in the pouring rain, smiling through your kisses and failing to suppress your laughter.
It was in that moment, that you two were the only people in the world. The two brightest of stars, conjoining to rival the sun.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
choose your last words, this is the last time
Minho paces back and forth in front of your driveway before approaching your door. He messed up big time, so he keeps being told by your friend Jeongin. He has always found your friends tiresome. Why being sent a paragraph long text of middle finger emojiâs is warranted for his jealousy? He will never know.
He isnât quite sure how to say he is sorry for what he did. He trusts you. Of course he trusts you, itâs you. You would never do anything to hurt him, let alone in spite of his childish moods.
He musters up enough courage to knock on your front door. Yet as he was about to, he retracts his hand. What if this is something you will never forgive him for? That canât possibly be an outcome of all this. Canât it?
He backs away from the door, pacing again. To any of your neighbours, he must look like some creep trying to talk himself into breaking into your house. Itâs best he just be brave and-
âMinho?â
He freezes in his tracks as he sees you in your pyjamas, carrying a trash bag. If your face didnât hold that nasty scowl directed towards him, he would have thought you looked cute in the set he got you for your birthday. You clear your throat. Right, he is here to plead his case.
âHeyâŠbin collection day tomorrow?â
An awful start.
You brush past him, throwing the bag into the bin. He watches you awkwardly, placing a hand on the back of his neck.
You walk back inside, but open the door wider. Taking that as his cue to go inside, he scurries in, sure to be quick as to keep the warmth inside.
You immediately head to your room and he sheepishly follows, acting as if he doesnât know the layout of your house by memory.
As you both enter your room, you go off to the bathroom to wash your hands. He sits and waits for you on the bed. His attention momentarily drawn to the window where he sees drops of rain run down the glass. He smiles softly before returning to his solemn state.
The bed dips beside him and he has to force himself not to stare at the side of your head. The remote control to your television gets thrown into his lap. He looks down, then up at you confused.
âPick something. Give yourself a couple of minutes to calm down and then say what you have to say.â You speak assertively.
He does as you say without question. Even if you are mad at him, you still know that he can struggle with righting his wrongs. Oh how he loves you.
A few minutes pass and Minho does indeed feel calmer. Enough to start the conversation he is still, slightly, scared to have.
âI am sorry. I had no right to tell you what to wear that night. I also acted like a dick to every single person that approached you, even your friends. That was not cool of me. At all.â He starts.
His eyes meet yours and it takes everything in him to not cower away in embarrassment. The reality of his actions settling in.
âYou are beautiful. I know that, everyone else knows that. I think I just got annoyed by people gushing to me about you and how they would love to be with you.â He turns to the window again, watching the rain as it gets heavier.
âIt triggered a protective side of me, well, a primal one.â He looks towards you now as you sit against the headboard, waiting for him to continue. âYouâre mine and I didnât want people to think they even had a chance with you.â
âSurely you would only think that if you didnât completely trust me.â You argue, raising an eyebrow.
Minho starts to fiddle with the remote. Casting his eyes away from yours in embarrassment.
âThat, would be a viable response to that yes. But I do trust you! I promise. You havenât given me any reason not to trust you I just-â He cuts himself off, holding back on what he truly wants to say.
He hears you sigh and you move to place your hand on his forearm. You stroke his arm softly with your thumb, letting him take his time. He really appreciates this side of you.
âI havenât been feeling like I am enough for you. I donât feel good in my body as of late and I think those insecurities translated through my actions of how I ministered to our relationship,â Minho takes a long, drawn out breath before continuing. âI think I was trying to drag you down with me into the same state of mind. For that, I am sorry Y/n.â He finishes looking up at you as his eyes shimmer from the fresh tears that threaten to fall.
You two stare at each other for a little while longer, the silence making Minho more panicked. You crawl over to him and straddle his lap, taking him by surprise. Your hands finding their rightful place in his hair, stroking softly.
âThank you for apologising to me. Make sure to also apologise to the many of my friends you rubbed the wrong way,â You chuckle lightly. âBut thank you for opening up to me and telling me what has been troubling you.â You take a deep breath and release with a sigh. âIt doesnât mean that I am completely happy with you, but I do want to show you that you are beautiful. You are everything and more to me Min.â You say smiling softly.
Minho swallows, his eyes blinking rapidly as he listens to you. He places his hands on your hips and strokes them softly. He may not be able to respond right now, the words caught in his throat. So he wants to let you know that he hears you.
âThis is a conversation that needs to be finished when emotions arenât as strong. However, I have failed as your lover to not make you feel like youâre enough. To not make you feel as if you are the sexiest man I have ever laid my eyes on.â You tantalisingly move your hips on his crotch.
The way his body responds to you will never cease to amaze him. All it takes is you sitting on top of him, hell, one look when you stare at him with those eyes and he is ready to go.
Gyrating slowly and pressing down on his now evident erection, a small whine escapes his lips. You smile at that and lift your shirt up off your body. Grabbing his hands, you lift them up to your chest for him to pay attention to your nipples.
He immediately began pinching and rolling them between his fingers. Your moans elicits a thrust of his hips up into your heat. Wanting more, you grab his head and he understands what you want of him. His eyes flutter closed and he attaches his soft lips to the bud, sucking and swirling his tongue. Releasing beautiful moans, he gets off to the salacious image of you using him at any given time to make him suck your nipples.
âI love the way you love my nipples Min. Love the little sounds you make.â You throw your head back in pleasure. âAll reasons why you are the sexiest man I know.â You mewl softly.
He switches nipples frantically. Always eager to please you. Only you. He craves every little thing about you. The way your lips taste, the way you taste. The way your body shudders around him as he takes you whenever you let him.
He is love drunk off of you. You are like a drug to him and he wishes to consume you âtil his dying breath.
The way you grind your hips down on him is unholy, it is like you are trying to make him cum in his pants. He is close, so close. His moans turning into desperate high pitched whimpers.
You halt your movements and hover above his lap. Swallowing the noise of disappointment with your mouth on his. Your tongue claiming the entirety of his mouth. You are so filthy and he loves it.
You catch his bottom lip between your teeth, dragging it slightly before gazing up at him with those eyes. You run your hands from his shoulders down his body, painfully slowly.
His head falls back into the pillow as he looks up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to just pull his pants down enough for him to free himself and fuck you senselessly until he is a shaking mess.
He knows better than to do that though. He wants to be good for you. Your good boy.
You pull down his joggers and his underwear and he shivers slightly. You hum in approval and kitten lick the head of his cock.
âY/n, bunny, please donât tease me!â He squalls. He thinks maybe he is being punished for his behaviour. Itâs the only way to explain the way you stroke him at a leisurely pace.
âHush, let me appreciate you. Mâgonna make you feel good loveâ You mumble more to yourself than to him.
Before he could protest anymore, he sharply intakes a breath. The way your lips mould around him so deliciously. Taking him down your pretty little throat. How did he get so lucky to find someone that riles him up as much as you do?
His hands reach down to lightly tug your hair, using it as a handle as he guides your head up and down. Your mouth felt so good. It always feels so good.
He simply canât control the needy whimpers and whines that are released from his throat. The sound doing so much as to turn him on even more. He has to be careful, he doesnât want to finish like this, not before you anyways. That is just selfish, what man doesnât let his gorgeous little pet finish before him?
He pulls you off of him, catching you by surprise. His eyes are dark now, as if a switch was flipped. He comes to his senses, his mission to grab back the reigns and take control. He inhibits you wiping the drool from your mouth as he pulls you into him and crashes his lips into yours.
You moan into his mouth and he is sure to swallow every one. He flips you onto your back, lightly pinning your arms in place. You are breathtaking. Just looking at the way your body glistens with sweat in the moonlight. Looks so tempting, so inviting. Like he wants to create a masterpiece with your empty canvas.
He kisses every part of your body, painting a picture with the little marks he leaves in his wake. His mouth hovers over your heat, breathing softly before planting a chaste kiss.
âOh kittenâŠyou are dripping.â He says with a devilish grin. âIs this all for me?â He asks tilting his head as he now looks up at you. He concludes that your mewling wonât satisfy him with the answer he wants to hear.
He squeezes your thighs roughly, causing you to look down at him. He just looks up at you with those gorgeous black eyes, his smile charming.
âI believe I asked you a question. Is my darling already too fucked out? I havenât even touched you in the place you so desperately need me yet. Did you have your fun, having the control hm?â
âYes, yes itâs all for you Min.â You whine attempting to squeeze your thighs together, but he is quicker than you. Spreading them wide his kisses litter just around your centre. His teasing merciless as you writhe beneath him.
âMin please, no more teasing. Need your mouth on me.â You beg, pushing your hips up to meet his face. He moves back, amused by your neediness.
âWell if thatâs what my little kitten wants, then itâs what my little kitten should get hm?â
Your body shudders as he goes down on you. Lapping up your juices like a man who has been starved for weeks. He feels your hands in his hair and it turns him on. He canât help but to rut against the bed to relieve some of the tension. The sounds, the sight, it is all truly so vulgar. Yet he loves nothing more than to please you.
After all, his name does sound prettiest when it is you moaning it in frantic desperation.
He makes you come undone three times and before he could get to four, you had pushed him away. Catching your breath as he knelt beside you and admires you. Admires the way the sweat trickles down the valley of your chest. The marks that colour your skin so deliciously. The way your eyes are closed tightly and your mouth open, no doubt getting a little dry.
He places an open mouthed kiss to your lips, his tongue providing the moisture that was being lost due to your heavy intake of air. He releases your lips and you make a noise of surprise as he opens your legs and situates himself between them, pushing into you slowly.
He has to still himself or else he will quite literally combust. You feel so good wrapped around him. You always feel so good. He opens his eyes to you already staring up at him Your eyes are overflowing with desire and he has to take a mental picture.
âYou intoxicate me. How is it I feel such burning passion whenever I am around you?â He starts to move within you, slowly, intimately, as he takes a deep breath. âI belong to you Y/n. I promise that I will never live a day without telling you that.â His strokes get deeper.
You are a babbling mess. He canât decipher anything you say, so he swallows your attempt with his mouth on yours. It isnât until he can taste salt that he realises he is crying. So much for keeping the control. He pulls away and places his arms beside your head, his pace still slow and deep.
âLook at me my darling,â He says with a shaky voice. He watches you flutter your eyes open. âPromise, mmh, promise me you will never leave my side.â
âI promise you.â You say, your own voice faltering no doubt being consumed by a ray of emotions. He drops his head into the crook of your neck, his tears now flowing down your neck. He feels your arms tighten around him. One hand on his back, one hand in his hair, stroking softly as you mutter âI love youâ over and over again.
He made love to you that night until the sun graced the sky. Never falling short of telling you just how much he adores you.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
we were born to die.
Itâs been a year now. A year of watching Paul and Vanessa, two months since he brought Dori home. Other than those three main factors in his life now, Minho is still miserable.
Much like the weather this morning as it downpours. Heâs learnt to hate the rain since the end of his relationship with you. There isnât much to like, not anymore.
He walks the same route he always does. His shoes are getting muddy, the path littered in grass clippings collated by the water. It proves to be extremely bothersome to see the grass stick to his shoes. Especially on a day like today, if grass is the thing that sets Minho off into a fit of rage; so help anyone who pisses him off on his way home.
Life is cruel. It will give you one thing you wish to cherish forever, to love until you canât love no more. Makes you feel found when you were lost for so long. Gives you happiness, makes you feel alive like you can accomplish anything the world throws in your direction.
Then it takes it away. Just like that. The thing you had wished to cherish, perishes. Strips you of your ability to love. When you were finally found, you become lost again. Takes your happiness, makes you feel as if youâre rotting inside like you canât will yourself to try and overcome the obstacles the world throws in your direction.
Living a life like that is revolting. A life in which you feel your only purpose of being born was to die. Minho laughs bitterly to himself. Born to die. Ironic because no matter what people tell you, that is always going to be the outcome of all life.
As he stands with the flowers in his hand, he isnât sure whether itâs his tears or the rain. Perhaps both as they start to trickle down the petals and collate in the pistil.
He kneels, unbothered about the grass and mud stains he is to get on the knee caps of his trousers.
Resting the flowers against the polished marble, his fingers journey over the name etched in the stone.
Your name.
His hand falls from the gravestone and situates themselves next to his head that has now pressed itself firmly into the ground. He sobs as he bows over you.
He loves you. He doesnât think he will ever stop loving you. He canât, he wonât.
Ê hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated á”Ì É
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.
© 2023 diddybok
125 notes
·
View notes
Kae, ur one of my favorite writers on here. But I really canât deal with anymore angstđđ like are you okay?? I feel like I can imagine you laughing maniacally while writing the most heart wrenching story ever, and I just wanted to askâŠis everything okay in your pretty little head?đđ©·
:o
oh! erm! you see, this is a loaded questionâi donâtâuhđ
đ
give me one momentâ
future kae hereâi have 8 fics that actually have fluff in themâŠthe rest are basically angst omgâŠ
omgâŠ
should i tone it down with the angst?? jebsisgesinsosnshgdhfgsj
itâs just something iâm good at writing idk, i like a lil kick to my food. a lil bit of spice but i fear itâs getting too spicy for yâallđ
*deletes every w.i.p fic and rewrites them*
the laughing manically is crazy because i just write them with a straight face
5 notes
·
View notes
đ„Čđ„Čđ„Čthank you for reading my love, glad you enjoyed!đ«§đ«§đ
born to die | minho
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
â©pairing: minho x gn!reader
â©genre(s): ANGST, fluff, smut, non-idol!au, switch!minho
â©warnings: death, smoking, pet names, sexual themes (18+) sex (unprotected- pls use protection!), explicit language, people watching (not sexual!) [anything else i have missed]
â©summary: a story based on the song âborn to dieâ by lana del ray. minho was the chosen victim iâm afraid.
â©wc: 5k (5,046)
â©authorâs note: i am so sorry.
donât make me sad, donât make me cry.
Cold, wet, miserable. The transition from autumn to winter makes itself known harsher than it has ever done before. As the wind cries, an acrimonious chill soars through the air looking to communicate with the souls that are derived of their light.
Minho walks down the desolate street playing with his lighter. A custom made lighter; a muted grey with the engraving of a peacock feather on it. A gift he got on his birthday from an old friend. It packs quite a punch he must say.
He takes one last long drag from his cigarette, taking back the nicotine to fill his lungs before freeing the smoke to dance through the smog. It feels familiar, the taste of nicotine on his tongue. It has been a while since he has smoked. He didnât miss it per-say, but fuck did it have its way of ebbing the pain.
A brown weathered bench comes into his line of view. He sits at this bench so much that he has assessed the best and worst parts of it to sit on. He collapses down, slightly off-centre and releases a long sigh.
Dawn is his favourite time of the day. The route he can walk with his eyes closed allows him to pass by the type of people he finds pleasure in watching. Minho was adroit at reading people. He much preferred to observe rather than enter a conversation in which he would need to cue his laughs and pretend to be sympathetic towards people who, he concluded, deserved nothing but to get castrated.
05:29am, right on time. Paul flits around the corner and continues down the path. Minho monitors the morning runner closely, counting his steps. Usually Paul does four hundred down this path before he is out of sight. His strides are longer today, seems he wants to get his run over and done with.
Minho likes Paul, though heâs never interacted with him. He needs not to, him watching from afar every dawn for the past ten months has made Paul the closest person he can refer to as a friend in his life currently.
Sad? Far worse. Depressing.
Things in his life changed drastically when you left him. YouâŠyour name leaves a vexatious taste in his mouth. It ireâs him just how easily you ruined him. He didnât think he could possibly hate anyone on this planet as much as he does you. All because you broke the promises you made him.
He hates you. He doesnât think he will ever stop hating you. He canât, he wonât.
The friends he did have, he casted them aside. Dropped them like a tree ridding itself of its leaves. Every now and then one of his old friends, Chris, checks up on him. Whether it be sending him a letter -Minho had blocked his number- or a care package. He canât deny the fact that it really pisses him off.
There goes Vanessa, or as people formally call her, Miss Phillips. He discovered that she is a teacher who specialises in helping children with special needs. Minho is quite fond of Vanessa. He usually likes to guess what style her hair will be next. She untucks her hair from her coat, braids. He hisses and shakes his head slightly as he guessed wrong again.
Minho reaches for the cold flip lighter and runs his thumb over the engraving. Never one to believe in superstitions, he thinks about the argument on whether a peacock feather brings good or bad luck.
It attracted the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this world. For that, he was beyond grateful for this small object. Until the thing that was so beautiful became cold, unknown, and cause him the worst ache of all. Ache from the heart that shattered into many, many minuscule pieces. One that he knows can never be meticulously mended.
He shouldnât be thinking about that, about you. His therapist strongly advises against such and directs him to remember his two little people he keeps an eye on. âPaul and Vanessa, just think about Paul and Vanessa. You have formed some sort of relationship with them in which you have developed a fidelity. They arenât any the wiser, but they are a reason for you holding on and gravitating your mind to moving forward.â His therapist had said.
Minhoâs hands start to shake and not due to the cold air. He curses to himself as he opens his cigarette box to find it empty. He was perturbed by his thoughts and needed to rid his growing anxiety before he has an attack.
The universe astutely discerns the situation, for a small friendly body rubs against his calf. Purring fills his senses and he looks down to see the stray cat staring up at him.
The cat seems to mimic his every move. He lifts an arm, the cat lifts its paw to touch his leg. He tilts his head, the cat does the same. If Minho clenches his fist tightly in his lap, then the cat rubs on his calf to soothe him.
It doesnât take long for a decision to be made, for he and the cat coalesce. He gently picks it up and continues his journey home. The cat immediately becoming the third most important thing in his life.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
come and take a walk on the wild side. let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain.
âHoney?â
âIn here!â
Minho follows the sound of your voice, finding you snuggled up in a blanket snacking on some popcorn and listening to some music. You turn to acknowledge him and he physically feels his heart swell. The way you look at him with such light and love is enough for it to be his main source of oxygen. God he is painfully in love with you.
âHello my darling, how was work?â You ask with a tilt of your head. His heart skipped a beat.
âIt was irritating,â he moves to lay on you, resting his head on your stomach as your hands find their way to his head, âChris is annoying me again.â He says with a roll of his eyes. You chuckle lightly at that.
âDid he put his lunch in your designated spot in the fridge again? Or was it that he offered you an iced latte instead of an Americano? Oh! Maybe he asked whether you were free this weekend and asked you to hang out? Or-â
You are cut off with a rambunctious groan that makes you erupt in a fit of laughter. Minho goes to roll off you irked by your teasing, but you trap him with your legs and apologise by smothering his face in kisses.
Hearing just some of the things that he relayed to you about his days at work made him sound ridiculous for even being annoyed at such things.
You have an extraordinary way of doing that. Reminding him that heâs being too pessimistic about life without explicitly saying so. He realistically doesnât need to be pessimistic anymore. Not when he has you in his life, you are warm sun to shine through his cold grey skies.
Itâs astounding just how long he was able to survive before you. You have moulded him unknowingly into a man capable of loving someone to an extent which is unearthly. He is your paean to how beautiful love can be and you are his saviour.
âWhatâs going on in that pretty head?â You ask, rubbing your hands up and down his back. It should not surprise him how well you know him.
âDo you know how much you mean to me? I canât breathe without you Y/n. Thatâs frightening. I never thought I could genuinely be so happy. I never knew what love was until you yâknow?â Minho says.
He can feel your breath quicken and your heartbeat increase, but youâre silent. So he continues.
âI truly think, no, I know you make me a better man. I donât know why I am being sentimental right now, I think you have me in a lifelong trance.â He lifts his head up, resting his chin on your chest. He watches a tear fall from your eye. He wishes in that exact moment, that he could read peopleâs minds. Read your mind.
âWhy must you do that to me unprovoked?â You sob. Itâs his turn to comfort you as he manoeuvres his way out of the position you both currently hold. He lifts you gently and places you on top of him to which you bury your face in his neck.
The pitter-patter of rain starts to make itself known as the weather mimics your mood. Minho enjoys the rain though, it soothes him. Much like you soothe him. Itâs strange, he can see the similarities between you and droplets of rain. Both refresh and cool him down when heâs too hot. Both make sounds that immediately puts him into a tranquil state. Both necessary to the world to make the flowers bloom and the grass look greener.
You are his rain.
He runs his fingers along your spine as you mutter incomprehensible words. If he had to guess you are telling him that heâs a villain for making you feel such a way randomly in the day. You referred to him as such before.
Minho is a prick, albeit a lovable one; a prick nonetheless. He loves the way you react to his spontaneous outbursts of reasons why he loves you. Maybe itâs the way you look so adorable when you cry. Maybe itâs the way you will always cling to him after he does so. Whatever the reason, it only makes his heart grow fonder.
The room is filled with your sniffles here and there, low music, and the sound of heavy rain hitting the window.
Minho lays with you, his eyes closed, swaying you gently.
âDo you want to go and play in the rain?â He says breaking the rhythm of sounds.
âDo I want to go and play in the rain?â You echo, laughing, âNo, I donât want to get my hair wet.â
âYou can wear my hoodie and my raincoat?â He suggests. You look up at him, sitting up fully. He just smiles at you, awaiting your response.
âYou really are seriousâŠwow.â
âItâll be fun, come on!â He exclaims picking you up with him as he gets up from the sofa. He goes to grab a hoodie of his, one of your favourite ones to wear. He tucks your hair inside of the hood and pulls the drawstrings to tighten it around your face.
He laces the string with a bow and kisses the tip of your nose. He then runs to get his raincoat and swiftly encloses you inside of it. He laughs at you.
âWhat?â You say feigning annoyance with a tilt of your head.
âNothingâŠâ He hums with laughter. âYou just remind me of an Ewokâ He laughs pinching your cheeks. You scrunch your face up due to the attack of his fingers and try to bat him away.
âYou basically just called me a tiny bear.â You groan.
âMy cute tiny bear. Come.â He grabs your hand and leads you towards the front door so you can both put on your shoes. He glances you way, shooting you an âAre you ready?â look, to which you just roll your eyes at him.
He doesnât give you another second to change your mind, him basically lifting you off your feet and into the empty street. You squeal as the rain comes down hard, instantaneously soaking both Minho and you.
Minho closes his eyes and raises his head to the sky, letting the rain trickle down his face. He laughs and then looks down at you. Staring up at him, you look at him like he is the only person ever. He scans your face, taking in your beauty. He is too in awe to speak, instead choosing to try and contain his smile by biting his lip. It doesnât work.
âIâll love you forever.â You say loudly over the rain. Minhoâs heart stops beating for several moments.
âPromise me that, my love.â He says, cupping your face in both of his hands. His thumbs rest just beneath your eyes and he wipes the water away from them.
âI promise.â
He kisses you deeply, lovingly, passionately. And the both of you stand there in the pouring rain, smiling through your kisses and failing to suppress your laughter.
It was in that moment, that you two were the only people in the world. The two brightest of stars, conjoining to rival the sun.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
choose your last words, this is the last time
Minho paces back and forth in front of your driveway before approaching your door. He messed up big time, so he keeps being told by your friend Jeongin. He has always found your friends tiresome. Why being sent a paragraph long text of middle finger emojiâs is warranted for his jealousy? He will never know.
He isnât quite sure how to say he is sorry for what he did. He trusts you. Of course he trusts you, itâs you. You would never do anything to hurt him, let alone in spite of his childish moods.
He musters up enough courage to knock on your front door. Yet as he was about to, he retracts his hand. What if this is something you will never forgive him for? That canât possibly be an outcome of all this. Canât it?
He backs away from the door, pacing again. To any of your neighbours, he must look like some creep trying to talk himself into breaking into your house. Itâs best he just be brave and-
âMinho?â
He freezes in his tracks as he sees you in your pyjamas, carrying a trash bag. If your face didnât hold that nasty scowl directed towards him, he would have thought you looked cute in the set he got you for your birthday. You clear your throat. Right, he is here to plead his case.
âHeyâŠbin collection day tomorrow?â
An awful start.
You brush past him, throwing the bag into the bin. He watches you awkwardly, placing a hand on the back of his neck.
You walk back inside, but open the door wider. Taking that as his cue to go inside, he scurries in, sure to be quick as to keep the warmth inside.
You immediately head to your room and he sheepishly follows, acting as if he doesnât know the layout of your house by memory.
As you both enter your room, you go off to the bathroom to wash your hands. He sits and waits for you on the bed. His attention momentarily drawn to the window where he sees drops of rain run down the glass. He smiles softly before returning to his solemn state.
The bed dips beside him and he has to force himself not to stare at the side of your head. The remote control to your television gets thrown into his lap. He looks down, then up at you confused.
âPick something. Give yourself a couple of minutes to calm down and then say what you have to say.â You speak assertively.
He does as you say without question. Even if you are mad at him, you still know that he can struggle with righting his wrongs. Oh how he loves you.
A few minutes pass and Minho does indeed feel calmer. Enough to start the conversation he is still, slightly, scared to have.
âI am sorry. I had no right to tell you what to wear that night. I also acted like a dick to every single person that approached you, even your friends. That was not cool of me. At all.â He starts.
His eyes meet yours and it takes everything in him to not cower away in embarrassment. The reality of his actions settling in.
âYou are beautiful. I know that, everyone else knows that. I think I just got annoyed by people gushing to me about you and how they would love to be with you.â He turns to the window again, watching the rain as it gets heavier.
âIt triggered a protective side of me, well, a primal one.â He looks towards you now as you sit against the headboard, waiting for him to continue. âYouâre mine and I didnât want people to think they even had a chance with you.â
âSurely you would only think that if you didnât completely trust me.â You argue, raising an eyebrow.
Minho starts to fiddle with the remote. Casting his eyes away from yours in embarrassment.
âThat, would be a viable response to that yes. But I do trust you! I promise. You havenât given me any reason not to trust you I just-â He cuts himself off, holding back on what he truly wants to say.
He hears you sigh and you move to place your hand on his forearm. You stroke his arm softly with your thumb, letting him take his time. He really appreciates this side of you.
âI havenât been feeling like I am enough for you. I donât feel good in my body as of late and I think those insecurities translated through my actions of how I ministered to our relationship,â Minho takes a long, drawn out breath before continuing. âI think I was trying to drag you down with me into the same state of mind. For that, I am sorry Y/n.â He finishes looking up at you as his eyes shimmer from the fresh tears that threaten to fall.
You two stare at each other for a little while longer, the silence making Minho more panicked. You crawl over to him and straddle his lap, taking him by surprise. Your hands finding their rightful place in his hair, stroking softly.
âThank you for apologising to me. Make sure to also apologise to the many of my friends you rubbed the wrong way,â You chuckle lightly. âBut thank you for opening up to me and telling me what has been troubling you.â You take a deep breath and release with a sigh. âIt doesnât mean that I am completely happy with you, but I do want to show you that you are beautiful. You are everything and more to me Min.â You say smiling softly.
Minho swallows, his eyes blinking rapidly as he listens to you. He places his hands on your hips and strokes them softly. He may not be able to respond right now, the words caught in his throat. So he wants to let you know that he hears you.
âThis is a conversation that needs to be finished when emotions arenât as strong. However, I have failed as your lover to not make you feel like youâre enough. To not make you feel as if you are the sexiest man I have ever laid my eyes on.â You tantalisingly move your hips on his crotch.
The way his body responds to you will never cease to amaze him. All it takes is you sitting on top of him, hell, one look when you stare at him with those eyes and he is ready to go.
Gyrating slowly and pressing down on his now evident erection, a small whine escapes his lips. You smile at that and lift your shirt up off your body. Grabbing his hands, you lift them up to your chest for him to pay attention to your nipples.
He immediately began pinching and rolling them between his fingers. Your moans elicits a thrust of his hips up into your heat. Wanting more, you grab his head and he understands what you want of him. His eyes flutter closed and he attaches his soft lips to the bud, sucking and swirling his tongue. Releasing beautiful moans, he gets off to the salacious image of you using him at any given time to make him suck your nipples.
âI love the way you love my nipples Min. Love the little sounds you make.â You throw your head back in pleasure. âAll reasons why you are the sexiest man I know.â You mewl softly.
He switches nipples frantically. Always eager to please you. Only you. He craves every little thing about you. The way your lips taste, the way you taste. The way your body shudders around him as he takes you whenever you let him.
He is love drunk off of you. You are like a drug to him and he wishes to consume you âtil his dying breath.
The way you grind your hips down on him is unholy, it is like you are trying to make him cum in his pants. He is close, so close. His moans turning into desperate high pitched whimpers.
You halt your movements and hover above his lap. Swallowing the noise of disappointment with your mouth on his. Your tongue claiming the entirety of his mouth. You are so filthy and he loves it.
You catch his bottom lip between your teeth, dragging it slightly before gazing up at him with those eyes. You run your hands from his shoulders down his body, painfully slowly.
His head falls back into the pillow as he looks up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to just pull his pants down enough for him to free himself and fuck you senselessly until he is a shaking mess.
He knows better than to do that though. He wants to be good for you. Your good boy.
You pull down his joggers and his underwear and he shivers slightly. You hum in approval and kitten lick the head of his cock.
âY/n, bunny, please donât tease me!â He squalls. He thinks maybe he is being punished for his behaviour. Itâs the only way to explain the way you stroke him at a leisurely pace.
âHush, let me appreciate you. Mâgonna make you feel good loveâ You mumble more to yourself than to him.
Before he could protest anymore, he sharply intakes a breath. The way your lips mould around him so deliciously. Taking him down your pretty little throat. How did he get so lucky to find someone that riles him up as much as you do?
His hands reach down to lightly tug your hair, using it as a handle as he guides your head up and down. Your mouth felt so good. It always feels so good.
He simply canât control the needy whimpers and whines that are released from his throat. The sound doing so much as to turn him on even more. He has to be careful, he doesnât want to finish like this, not before you anyways. That is just selfish, what man doesnât let his gorgeous little pet finish before him?
He pulls you off of him, catching you by surprise. His eyes are dark now, as if a switch was flipped. He comes to his senses, his mission to grab back the reigns and take control. He inhibits you wiping the drool from your mouth as he pulls you into him and crashes his lips into yours.
You moan into his mouth and he is sure to swallow every one. He flips you onto your back, lightly pinning your arms in place. You are breathtaking. Just looking at the way your body glistens with sweat in the moonlight. Looks so tempting, so inviting. Like he wants to create a masterpiece with your empty canvas.
He kisses every part of your body, painting a picture with the little marks he leaves in his wake. His mouth hovers over your heat, breathing softly before planting a chaste kiss.
âOh kittenâŠyou are dripping.â He says with a devilish grin. âIs this all for me?â He asks tilting his head as he now looks up at you. He concludes that your mewling wonât satisfy him with the answer he wants to hear.
He squeezes your thighs roughly, causing you to look down at him. He just looks up at you with those gorgeous black eyes, his smile charming.
âI believe I asked you a question. Is my darling already too fucked out? I havenât even touched you in the place you so desperately need me yet. Did you have your fun, having the control hm?â
âYes, yes itâs all for you Min.â You whine attempting to squeeze your thighs together, but he is quicker than you. Spreading them wide his kisses litter just around your centre. His teasing merciless as you writhe beneath him.
âMin please, no more teasing. Need your mouth on me.â You beg, pushing your hips up to meet his face. He moves back, amused by your neediness.
âWell if thatâs what my little kitten wants, then itâs what my little kitten should get hm?â
Your body shudders as he goes down on you. Lapping up your juices like a man who has been starved for weeks. He feels your hands in his hair and it turns him on. He canât help but to rut against the bed to relieve some of the tension. The sounds, the sight, it is all truly so vulgar. Yet he loves nothing more than to please you.
After all, his name does sound prettiest when it is you moaning it in frantic desperation.
He makes you come undone three times and before he could get to four, you had pushed him away. Catching your breath as he knelt beside you and admires you. Admires the way the sweat trickles down the valley of your chest. The marks that colour your skin so deliciously. The way your eyes are closed tightly and your mouth open, no doubt getting a little dry.
He places an open mouthed kiss to your lips, his tongue providing the moisture that was being lost due to your heavy intake of air. He releases your lips and you make a noise of surprise as he opens your legs and situates himself between them, pushing into you slowly.
He has to still himself or else he will quite literally combust. You feel so good wrapped around him. You always feel so good. He opens his eyes to you already staring up at him Your eyes are overflowing with desire and he has to take a mental picture.
âYou intoxicate me. How is it I feel such burning passion whenever I am around you?â He starts to move within you, slowly, intimately, as he takes a deep breath. âI belong to you Y/n. I promise that I will never live a day without telling you that.â His strokes get deeper.
You are a babbling mess. He canât decipher anything you say, so he swallows your attempt with his mouth on yours. It isnât until he can taste salt that he realises he is crying. So much for keeping the control. He pulls away and places his arms beside your head, his pace still slow and deep.
âLook at me my darling,â He says with a shaky voice. He watches you flutter your eyes open. âPromise, mmh, promise me you will never leave my side.â
âI promise you.â You say, your own voice faltering no doubt being consumed by a ray of emotions. He drops his head into the crook of your neck, his tears now flowing down your neck. He feels your arms tighten around him. One hand on his back, one hand in his hair, stroking softly as you mutter âI love youâ over and over again.
He made love to you that night until the sun graced the sky. Never falling short of telling you just how much he adores you.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
we were born to die.
Itâs been a year now. A year of watching Paul and Vanessa, two months since he brought Dori home. Other than those three main factors in his life now, Minho is still miserable.
Much like the weather this morning as it downpours. Heâs learnt to hate the rain since the end of his relationship with you. There isnât much to like, not anymore.
He walks the same route he always does. His shoes are getting muddy, the path littered in grass clippings collated by the water. It proves to be extremely bothersome to see the grass stick to his shoes. Especially on a day like today, if grass is the thing that sets Minho off into a fit of rage; so help anyone who pisses him off on his way home.
Life is cruel. It will give you one thing you wish to cherish forever, to love until you canât love no more. Makes you feel found when you were lost for so long. Gives you happiness, makes you feel alive like you can accomplish anything the world throws in your direction.
Then it takes it away. Just like that. The thing you had wished to cherish, perishes. Strips you of your ability to love. When you were finally found, you become lost again. Takes your happiness, makes you feel as if youâre rotting inside like you canât will yourself to try and overcome the obstacles the world throws in your direction.
Living a life like that is revolting. A life in which you feel your only purpose of being born was to die. Minho laughs bitterly to himself. Born to die. Ironic because no matter what people tell you, that is always going to be the outcome of all life.
As he stands with the flowers in his hand, he isnât sure whether itâs his tears or the rain. Perhaps both as they start to trickle down the petals and collate in the pistil.
He kneels, unbothered about the grass and mud stains he is to get on the knee caps of his trousers.
Resting the flowers against the polished marble, his fingers journey over the name etched in the stone.
Your name.
His hand falls from the gravestone and situates themselves next to his head that has now pressed itself firmly into the ground. He sobs as he bows over you.
He loves you. He doesnât think he will ever stop loving you. He canât, he wonât.
Ê hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated á”Ì É
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.
© 2023 diddybok
125 notes
·
View notes
you are acc too cuteđ„Čđ„Č thank you thank you thank you!!đ«§đ«§đđ
born to die | minho
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
â©pairing: minho x gn!reader
â©genre(s): ANGST, fluff, smut, non-idol!au, switch!minho
â©warnings: death, smoking, pet names, sexual themes (18+) sex (unprotected- pls use protection!), explicit language, people watching (not sexual!) [anything else i have missed]
â©summary: a story based on the song âborn to dieâ by lana del ray. minho was the chosen victim iâm afraid.
â©wc: 5k (5,046)
â©authorâs note: i am so sorry.
donât make me sad, donât make me cry.
Cold, wet, miserable. The transition from autumn to winter makes itself known harsher than it has ever done before. As the wind cries, an acrimonious chill soars through the air looking to communicate with the souls that are derived of their light.
Minho walks down the desolate street playing with his lighter. A custom made lighter; a muted grey with the engraving of a peacock feather on it. A gift he got on his birthday from an old friend. It packs quite a punch he must say.
He takes one last long drag from his cigarette, taking back the nicotine to fill his lungs before freeing the smoke to dance through the smog. It feels familiar, the taste of nicotine on his tongue. It has been a while since he has smoked. He didnât miss it per-say, but fuck did it have its way of ebbing the pain.
A brown weathered bench comes into his line of view. He sits at this bench so much that he has assessed the best and worst parts of it to sit on. He collapses down, slightly off-centre and releases a long sigh.
Dawn is his favourite time of the day. The route he can walk with his eyes closed allows him to pass by the type of people he finds pleasure in watching. Minho was adroit at reading people. He much preferred to observe rather than enter a conversation in which he would need to cue his laughs and pretend to be sympathetic towards people who, he concluded, deserved nothing but to get castrated.
05:29am, right on time. Paul flits around the corner and continues down the path. Minho monitors the morning runner closely, counting his steps. Usually Paul does four hundred down this path before he is out of sight. His strides are longer today, seems he wants to get his run over and done with.
Minho likes Paul, though heâs never interacted with him. He needs not to, him watching from afar every dawn for the past ten months has made Paul the closest person he can refer to as a friend in his life currently.
Sad? Far worse. Depressing.
Things in his life changed drastically when you left him. YouâŠyour name leaves a vexatious taste in his mouth. It ireâs him just how easily you ruined him. He didnât think he could possibly hate anyone on this planet as much as he does you. All because you broke the promises you made him.
He hates you. He doesnât think he will ever stop hating you. He canât, he wonât.
The friends he did have, he casted them aside. Dropped them like a tree ridding itself of its leaves. Every now and then one of his old friends, Chris, checks up on him. Whether it be sending him a letter -Minho had blocked his number- or a care package. He canât deny the fact that it really pisses him off.
There goes Vanessa, or as people formally call her, Miss Phillips. He discovered that she is a teacher who specialises in helping children with special needs. Minho is quite fond of Vanessa. He usually likes to guess what style her hair will be next. She untucks her hair from her coat, braids. He hisses and shakes his head slightly as he guessed wrong again.
Minho reaches for the cold flip lighter and runs his thumb over the engraving. Never one to believe in superstitions, he thinks about the argument on whether a peacock feather brings good or bad luck.
It attracted the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this world. For that, he was beyond grateful for this small object. Until the thing that was so beautiful became cold, unknown, and cause him the worst ache of all. Ache from the heart that shattered into many, many minuscule pieces. One that he knows can never be meticulously mended.
He shouldnât be thinking about that, about you. His therapist strongly advises against such and directs him to remember his two little people he keeps an eye on. âPaul and Vanessa, just think about Paul and Vanessa. You have formed some sort of relationship with them in which you have developed a fidelity. They arenât any the wiser, but they are a reason for you holding on and gravitating your mind to moving forward.â His therapist had said.
Minhoâs hands start to shake and not due to the cold air. He curses to himself as he opens his cigarette box to find it empty. He was perturbed by his thoughts and needed to rid his growing anxiety before he has an attack.
The universe astutely discerns the situation, for a small friendly body rubs against his calf. Purring fills his senses and he looks down to see the stray cat staring up at him.
The cat seems to mimic his every move. He lifts an arm, the cat lifts its paw to touch his leg. He tilts his head, the cat does the same. If Minho clenches his fist tightly in his lap, then the cat rubs on his calf to soothe him.
It doesnât take long for a decision to be made, for he and the cat coalesce. He gently picks it up and continues his journey home. The cat immediately becoming the third most important thing in his life.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
come and take a walk on the wild side. let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain.
âHoney?â
âIn here!â
Minho follows the sound of your voice, finding you snuggled up in a blanket snacking on some popcorn and listening to some music. You turn to acknowledge him and he physically feels his heart swell. The way you look at him with such light and love is enough for it to be his main source of oxygen. God he is painfully in love with you.
âHello my darling, how was work?â You ask with a tilt of your head. His heart skipped a beat.
âIt was irritating,â he moves to lay on you, resting his head on your stomach as your hands find their way to his head, âChris is annoying me again.â He says with a roll of his eyes. You chuckle lightly at that.
âDid he put his lunch in your designated spot in the fridge again? Or was it that he offered you an iced latte instead of an Americano? Oh! Maybe he asked whether you were free this weekend and asked you to hang out? Or-â
You are cut off with a rambunctious groan that makes you erupt in a fit of laughter. Minho goes to roll off you irked by your teasing, but you trap him with your legs and apologise by smothering his face in kisses.
Hearing just some of the things that he relayed to you about his days at work made him sound ridiculous for even being annoyed at such things.
You have an extraordinary way of doing that. Reminding him that heâs being too pessimistic about life without explicitly saying so. He realistically doesnât need to be pessimistic anymore. Not when he has you in his life, you are warm sun to shine through his cold grey skies.
Itâs astounding just how long he was able to survive before you. You have moulded him unknowingly into a man capable of loving someone to an extent which is unearthly. He is your paean to how beautiful love can be and you are his saviour.
âWhatâs going on in that pretty head?â You ask, rubbing your hands up and down his back. It should not surprise him how well you know him.
âDo you know how much you mean to me? I canât breathe without you Y/n. Thatâs frightening. I never thought I could genuinely be so happy. I never knew what love was until you yâknow?â Minho says.
He can feel your breath quicken and your heartbeat increase, but youâre silent. So he continues.
âI truly think, no, I know you make me a better man. I donât know why I am being sentimental right now, I think you have me in a lifelong trance.â He lifts his head up, resting his chin on your chest. He watches a tear fall from your eye. He wishes in that exact moment, that he could read peopleâs minds. Read your mind.
âWhy must you do that to me unprovoked?â You sob. Itâs his turn to comfort you as he manoeuvres his way out of the position you both currently hold. He lifts you gently and places you on top of him to which you bury your face in his neck.
The pitter-patter of rain starts to make itself known as the weather mimics your mood. Minho enjoys the rain though, it soothes him. Much like you soothe him. Itâs strange, he can see the similarities between you and droplets of rain. Both refresh and cool him down when heâs too hot. Both make sounds that immediately puts him into a tranquil state. Both necessary to the world to make the flowers bloom and the grass look greener.
You are his rain.
He runs his fingers along your spine as you mutter incomprehensible words. If he had to guess you are telling him that heâs a villain for making you feel such a way randomly in the day. You referred to him as such before.
Minho is a prick, albeit a lovable one; a prick nonetheless. He loves the way you react to his spontaneous outbursts of reasons why he loves you. Maybe itâs the way you look so adorable when you cry. Maybe itâs the way you will always cling to him after he does so. Whatever the reason, it only makes his heart grow fonder.
The room is filled with your sniffles here and there, low music, and the sound of heavy rain hitting the window.
Minho lays with you, his eyes closed, swaying you gently.
âDo you want to go and play in the rain?â He says breaking the rhythm of sounds.
âDo I want to go and play in the rain?â You echo, laughing, âNo, I donât want to get my hair wet.â
âYou can wear my hoodie and my raincoat?â He suggests. You look up at him, sitting up fully. He just smiles at you, awaiting your response.
âYou really are seriousâŠwow.â
âItâll be fun, come on!â He exclaims picking you up with him as he gets up from the sofa. He goes to grab a hoodie of his, one of your favourite ones to wear. He tucks your hair inside of the hood and pulls the drawstrings to tighten it around your face.
He laces the string with a bow and kisses the tip of your nose. He then runs to get his raincoat and swiftly encloses you inside of it. He laughs at you.
âWhat?â You say feigning annoyance with a tilt of your head.
âNothingâŠâ He hums with laughter. âYou just remind me of an Ewokâ He laughs pinching your cheeks. You scrunch your face up due to the attack of his fingers and try to bat him away.
âYou basically just called me a tiny bear.â You groan.
âMy cute tiny bear. Come.â He grabs your hand and leads you towards the front door so you can both put on your shoes. He glances you way, shooting you an âAre you ready?â look, to which you just roll your eyes at him.
He doesnât give you another second to change your mind, him basically lifting you off your feet and into the empty street. You squeal as the rain comes down hard, instantaneously soaking both Minho and you.
Minho closes his eyes and raises his head to the sky, letting the rain trickle down his face. He laughs and then looks down at you. Staring up at him, you look at him like he is the only person ever. He scans your face, taking in your beauty. He is too in awe to speak, instead choosing to try and contain his smile by biting his lip. It doesnât work.
âIâll love you forever.â You say loudly over the rain. Minhoâs heart stops beating for several moments.
âPromise me that, my love.â He says, cupping your face in both of his hands. His thumbs rest just beneath your eyes and he wipes the water away from them.
âI promise.â
He kisses you deeply, lovingly, passionately. And the both of you stand there in the pouring rain, smiling through your kisses and failing to suppress your laughter.
It was in that moment, that you two were the only people in the world. The two brightest of stars, conjoining to rival the sun.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
choose your last words, this is the last time
Minho paces back and forth in front of your driveway before approaching your door. He messed up big time, so he keeps being told by your friend Jeongin. He has always found your friends tiresome. Why being sent a paragraph long text of middle finger emojiâs is warranted for his jealousy? He will never know.
He isnât quite sure how to say he is sorry for what he did. He trusts you. Of course he trusts you, itâs you. You would never do anything to hurt him, let alone in spite of his childish moods.
He musters up enough courage to knock on your front door. Yet as he was about to, he retracts his hand. What if this is something you will never forgive him for? That canât possibly be an outcome of all this. Canât it?
He backs away from the door, pacing again. To any of your neighbours, he must look like some creep trying to talk himself into breaking into your house. Itâs best he just be brave and-
âMinho?â
He freezes in his tracks as he sees you in your pyjamas, carrying a trash bag. If your face didnât hold that nasty scowl directed towards him, he would have thought you looked cute in the set he got you for your birthday. You clear your throat. Right, he is here to plead his case.
âHeyâŠbin collection day tomorrow?â
An awful start.
You brush past him, throwing the bag into the bin. He watches you awkwardly, placing a hand on the back of his neck.
You walk back inside, but open the door wider. Taking that as his cue to go inside, he scurries in, sure to be quick as to keep the warmth inside.
You immediately head to your room and he sheepishly follows, acting as if he doesnât know the layout of your house by memory.
As you both enter your room, you go off to the bathroom to wash your hands. He sits and waits for you on the bed. His attention momentarily drawn to the window where he sees drops of rain run down the glass. He smiles softly before returning to his solemn state.
The bed dips beside him and he has to force himself not to stare at the side of your head. The remote control to your television gets thrown into his lap. He looks down, then up at you confused.
âPick something. Give yourself a couple of minutes to calm down and then say what you have to say.â You speak assertively.
He does as you say without question. Even if you are mad at him, you still know that he can struggle with righting his wrongs. Oh how he loves you.
A few minutes pass and Minho does indeed feel calmer. Enough to start the conversation he is still, slightly, scared to have.
âI am sorry. I had no right to tell you what to wear that night. I also acted like a dick to every single person that approached you, even your friends. That was not cool of me. At all.â He starts.
His eyes meet yours and it takes everything in him to not cower away in embarrassment. The reality of his actions settling in.
âYou are beautiful. I know that, everyone else knows that. I think I just got annoyed by people gushing to me about you and how they would love to be with you.â He turns to the window again, watching the rain as it gets heavier.
âIt triggered a protective side of me, well, a primal one.â He looks towards you now as you sit against the headboard, waiting for him to continue. âYouâre mine and I didnât want people to think they even had a chance with you.â
âSurely you would only think that if you didnât completely trust me.â You argue, raising an eyebrow.
Minho starts to fiddle with the remote. Casting his eyes away from yours in embarrassment.
âThat, would be a viable response to that yes. But I do trust you! I promise. You havenât given me any reason not to trust you I just-â He cuts himself off, holding back on what he truly wants to say.
He hears you sigh and you move to place your hand on his forearm. You stroke his arm softly with your thumb, letting him take his time. He really appreciates this side of you.
âI havenât been feeling like I am enough for you. I donât feel good in my body as of late and I think those insecurities translated through my actions of how I ministered to our relationship,â Minho takes a long, drawn out breath before continuing. âI think I was trying to drag you down with me into the same state of mind. For that, I am sorry Y/n.â He finishes looking up at you as his eyes shimmer from the fresh tears that threaten to fall.
You two stare at each other for a little while longer, the silence making Minho more panicked. You crawl over to him and straddle his lap, taking him by surprise. Your hands finding their rightful place in his hair, stroking softly.
âThank you for apologising to me. Make sure to also apologise to the many of my friends you rubbed the wrong way,â You chuckle lightly. âBut thank you for opening up to me and telling me what has been troubling you.â You take a deep breath and release with a sigh. âIt doesnât mean that I am completely happy with you, but I do want to show you that you are beautiful. You are everything and more to me Min.â You say smiling softly.
Minho swallows, his eyes blinking rapidly as he listens to you. He places his hands on your hips and strokes them softly. He may not be able to respond right now, the words caught in his throat. So he wants to let you know that he hears you.
âThis is a conversation that needs to be finished when emotions arenât as strong. However, I have failed as your lover to not make you feel like youâre enough. To not make you feel as if you are the sexiest man I have ever laid my eyes on.â You tantalisingly move your hips on his crotch.
The way his body responds to you will never cease to amaze him. All it takes is you sitting on top of him, hell, one look when you stare at him with those eyes and he is ready to go.
Gyrating slowly and pressing down on his now evident erection, a small whine escapes his lips. You smile at that and lift your shirt up off your body. Grabbing his hands, you lift them up to your chest for him to pay attention to your nipples.
He immediately began pinching and rolling them between his fingers. Your moans elicits a thrust of his hips up into your heat. Wanting more, you grab his head and he understands what you want of him. His eyes flutter closed and he attaches his soft lips to the bud, sucking and swirling his tongue. Releasing beautiful moans, he gets off to the salacious image of you using him at any given time to make him suck your nipples.
âI love the way you love my nipples Min. Love the little sounds you make.â You throw your head back in pleasure. âAll reasons why you are the sexiest man I know.â You mewl softly.
He switches nipples frantically. Always eager to please you. Only you. He craves every little thing about you. The way your lips taste, the way you taste. The way your body shudders around him as he takes you whenever you let him.
He is love drunk off of you. You are like a drug to him and he wishes to consume you âtil his dying breath.
The way you grind your hips down on him is unholy, it is like you are trying to make him cum in his pants. He is close, so close. His moans turning into desperate high pitched whimpers.
You halt your movements and hover above his lap. Swallowing the noise of disappointment with your mouth on his. Your tongue claiming the entirety of his mouth. You are so filthy and he loves it.
You catch his bottom lip between your teeth, dragging it slightly before gazing up at him with those eyes. You run your hands from his shoulders down his body, painfully slowly.
His head falls back into the pillow as he looks up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to just pull his pants down enough for him to free himself and fuck you senselessly until he is a shaking mess.
He knows better than to do that though. He wants to be good for you. Your good boy.
You pull down his joggers and his underwear and he shivers slightly. You hum in approval and kitten lick the head of his cock.
âY/n, bunny, please donât tease me!â He squalls. He thinks maybe he is being punished for his behaviour. Itâs the only way to explain the way you stroke him at a leisurely pace.
âHush, let me appreciate you. Mâgonna make you feel good loveâ You mumble more to yourself than to him.
Before he could protest anymore, he sharply intakes a breath. The way your lips mould around him so deliciously. Taking him down your pretty little throat. How did he get so lucky to find someone that riles him up as much as you do?
His hands reach down to lightly tug your hair, using it as a handle as he guides your head up and down. Your mouth felt so good. It always feels so good.
He simply canât control the needy whimpers and whines that are released from his throat. The sound doing so much as to turn him on even more. He has to be careful, he doesnât want to finish like this, not before you anyways. That is just selfish, what man doesnât let his gorgeous little pet finish before him?
He pulls you off of him, catching you by surprise. His eyes are dark now, as if a switch was flipped. He comes to his senses, his mission to grab back the reigns and take control. He inhibits you wiping the drool from your mouth as he pulls you into him and crashes his lips into yours.
You moan into his mouth and he is sure to swallow every one. He flips you onto your back, lightly pinning your arms in place. You are breathtaking. Just looking at the way your body glistens with sweat in the moonlight. Looks so tempting, so inviting. Like he wants to create a masterpiece with your empty canvas.
He kisses every part of your body, painting a picture with the little marks he leaves in his wake. His mouth hovers over your heat, breathing softly before planting a chaste kiss.
âOh kittenâŠyou are dripping.â He says with a devilish grin. âIs this all for me?â He asks tilting his head as he now looks up at you. He concludes that your mewling wonât satisfy him with the answer he wants to hear.
He squeezes your thighs roughly, causing you to look down at him. He just looks up at you with those gorgeous black eyes, his smile charming.
âI believe I asked you a question. Is my darling already too fucked out? I havenât even touched you in the place you so desperately need me yet. Did you have your fun, having the control hm?â
âYes, yes itâs all for you Min.â You whine attempting to squeeze your thighs together, but he is quicker than you. Spreading them wide his kisses litter just around your centre. His teasing merciless as you writhe beneath him.
âMin please, no more teasing. Need your mouth on me.â You beg, pushing your hips up to meet his face. He moves back, amused by your neediness.
âWell if thatâs what my little kitten wants, then itâs what my little kitten should get hm?â
Your body shudders as he goes down on you. Lapping up your juices like a man who has been starved for weeks. He feels your hands in his hair and it turns him on. He canât help but to rut against the bed to relieve some of the tension. The sounds, the sight, it is all truly so vulgar. Yet he loves nothing more than to please you.
After all, his name does sound prettiest when it is you moaning it in frantic desperation.
He makes you come undone three times and before he could get to four, you had pushed him away. Catching your breath as he knelt beside you and admires you. Admires the way the sweat trickles down the valley of your chest. The marks that colour your skin so deliciously. The way your eyes are closed tightly and your mouth open, no doubt getting a little dry.
He places an open mouthed kiss to your lips, his tongue providing the moisture that was being lost due to your heavy intake of air. He releases your lips and you make a noise of surprise as he opens your legs and situates himself between them, pushing into you slowly.
He has to still himself or else he will quite literally combust. You feel so good wrapped around him. You always feel so good. He opens his eyes to you already staring up at him Your eyes are overflowing with desire and he has to take a mental picture.
âYou intoxicate me. How is it I feel such burning passion whenever I am around you?â He starts to move within you, slowly, intimately, as he takes a deep breath. âI belong to you Y/n. I promise that I will never live a day without telling you that.â His strokes get deeper.
You are a babbling mess. He canât decipher anything you say, so he swallows your attempt with his mouth on yours. It isnât until he can taste salt that he realises he is crying. So much for keeping the control. He pulls away and places his arms beside your head, his pace still slow and deep.
âLook at me my darling,â He says with a shaky voice. He watches you flutter your eyes open. âPromise, mmh, promise me you will never leave my side.â
âI promise you.â You say, your own voice faltering no doubt being consumed by a ray of emotions. He drops his head into the crook of your neck, his tears now flowing down your neck. He feels your arms tighten around him. One hand on his back, one hand in his hair, stroking softly as you mutter âI love youâ over and over again.
He made love to you that night until the sun graced the sky. Never falling short of telling you just how much he adores you.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
we were born to die.
Itâs been a year now. A year of watching Paul and Vanessa, two months since he brought Dori home. Other than those three main factors in his life now, Minho is still miserable.
Much like the weather this morning as it downpours. Heâs learnt to hate the rain since the end of his relationship with you. There isnât much to like, not anymore.
He walks the same route he always does. His shoes are getting muddy, the path littered in grass clippings collated by the water. It proves to be extremely bothersome to see the grass stick to his shoes. Especially on a day like today, if grass is the thing that sets Minho off into a fit of rage; so help anyone who pisses him off on his way home.
Life is cruel. It will give you one thing you wish to cherish forever, to love until you canât love no more. Makes you feel found when you were lost for so long. Gives you happiness, makes you feel alive like you can accomplish anything the world throws in your direction.
Then it takes it away. Just like that. The thing you had wished to cherish, perishes. Strips you of your ability to love. When you were finally found, you become lost again. Takes your happiness, makes you feel as if youâre rotting inside like you canât will yourself to try and overcome the obstacles the world throws in your direction.
Living a life like that is revolting. A life in which you feel your only purpose of being born was to die. Minho laughs bitterly to himself. Born to die. Ironic because no matter what people tell you, that is always going to be the outcome of all life.
As he stands with the flowers in his hand, he isnât sure whether itâs his tears or the rain. Perhaps both as they start to trickle down the petals and collate in the pistil.
He kneels, unbothered about the grass and mud stains he is to get on the knee caps of his trousers.
Resting the flowers against the polished marble, his fingers journey over the name etched in the stone.
Your name.
His hand falls from the gravestone and situates themselves next to his head that has now pressed itself firmly into the ground. He sobs as he bows over you.
He loves you. He doesnât think he will ever stop loving you. He canât, he wonât.
Ê hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated á”Ì É
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.
© 2023 diddybok
125 notes
·
View notes
UMMM BORN TO DIE WAS NOT OKAY
like it was an amazing idea and fic and was executed amazingly
but now I've been ugly sobbing for ten minutes in my bathroom and I have to go to bed soon âčïž wish me luck tomorrow bc I just know my eyes are going to be dry as hell
still love you tho đđ
aww thank you so much my love!đđ
bless your heart you are too sweet! thank you for reading the fic. iâm sorry iâm late to reply but iâll still wish you luck for whatever you need luck with lol!đ«§đ«§
1 note
·
View note
not yay but glad you felt moved reading this hidden gem!! thank you so much for reading my loveđ«§đ«§
born to die | minho
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
â©pairing: minho x gn!reader
â©genre(s): ANGST, fluff, smut, non-idol!au, switch!minho
â©warnings: death, smoking, pet names, sexual themes (18+) sex (unprotected- pls use protection!), explicit language, people watching (not sexual!) [anything else i have missed]
â©summary: a story based on the song âborn to dieâ by lana del ray. minho was the chosen victim iâm afraid.
â©wc: 5k (5,046)
â©authorâs note: i am so sorry.
donât make me sad, donât make me cry.
Cold, wet, miserable. The transition from autumn to winter makes itself known harsher than it has ever done before. As the wind cries, an acrimonious chill soars through the air looking to communicate with the souls that are derived of their light.
Minho walks down the desolate street playing with his lighter. A custom made lighter; a muted grey with the engraving of a peacock feather on it. A gift he got on his birthday from an old friend. It packs quite a punch he must say.
He takes one last long drag from his cigarette, taking back the nicotine to fill his lungs before freeing the smoke to dance through the smog. It feels familiar, the taste of nicotine on his tongue. It has been a while since he has smoked. He didnât miss it per-say, but fuck did it have its way of ebbing the pain.
A brown weathered bench comes into his line of view. He sits at this bench so much that he has assessed the best and worst parts of it to sit on. He collapses down, slightly off-centre and releases a long sigh.
Dawn is his favourite time of the day. The route he can walk with his eyes closed allows him to pass by the type of people he finds pleasure in watching. Minho was adroit at reading people. He much preferred to observe rather than enter a conversation in which he would need to cue his laughs and pretend to be sympathetic towards people who, he concluded, deserved nothing but to get castrated.
05:29am, right on time. Paul flits around the corner and continues down the path. Minho monitors the morning runner closely, counting his steps. Usually Paul does four hundred down this path before he is out of sight. His strides are longer today, seems he wants to get his run over and done with.
Minho likes Paul, though heâs never interacted with him. He needs not to, him watching from afar every dawn for the past ten months has made Paul the closest person he can refer to as a friend in his life currently.
Sad? Far worse. Depressing.
Things in his life changed drastically when you left him. YouâŠyour name leaves a vexatious taste in his mouth. It ireâs him just how easily you ruined him. He didnât think he could possibly hate anyone on this planet as much as he does you. All because you broke the promises you made him.
He hates you. He doesnât think he will ever stop hating you. He canât, he wonât.
The friends he did have, he casted them aside. Dropped them like a tree ridding itself of its leaves. Every now and then one of his old friends, Chris, checks up on him. Whether it be sending him a letter -Minho had blocked his number- or a care package. He canât deny the fact that it really pisses him off.
There goes Vanessa, or as people formally call her, Miss Phillips. He discovered that she is a teacher who specialises in helping children with special needs. Minho is quite fond of Vanessa. He usually likes to guess what style her hair will be next. She untucks her hair from her coat, braids. He hisses and shakes his head slightly as he guessed wrong again.
Minho reaches for the cold flip lighter and runs his thumb over the engraving. Never one to believe in superstitions, he thinks about the argument on whether a peacock feather brings good or bad luck.
It attracted the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this world. For that, he was beyond grateful for this small object. Until the thing that was so beautiful became cold, unknown, and cause him the worst ache of all. Ache from the heart that shattered into many, many minuscule pieces. One that he knows can never be meticulously mended.
He shouldnât be thinking about that, about you. His therapist strongly advises against such and directs him to remember his two little people he keeps an eye on. âPaul and Vanessa, just think about Paul and Vanessa. You have formed some sort of relationship with them in which you have developed a fidelity. They arenât any the wiser, but they are a reason for you holding on and gravitating your mind to moving forward.â His therapist had said.
Minhoâs hands start to shake and not due to the cold air. He curses to himself as he opens his cigarette box to find it empty. He was perturbed by his thoughts and needed to rid his growing anxiety before he has an attack.
The universe astutely discerns the situation, for a small friendly body rubs against his calf. Purring fills his senses and he looks down to see the stray cat staring up at him.
The cat seems to mimic his every move. He lifts an arm, the cat lifts its paw to touch his leg. He tilts his head, the cat does the same. If Minho clenches his fist tightly in his lap, then the cat rubs on his calf to soothe him.
It doesnât take long for a decision to be made, for he and the cat coalesce. He gently picks it up and continues his journey home. The cat immediately becoming the third most important thing in his life.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
come and take a walk on the wild side. let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain.
âHoney?â
âIn here!â
Minho follows the sound of your voice, finding you snuggled up in a blanket snacking on some popcorn and listening to some music. You turn to acknowledge him and he physically feels his heart swell. The way you look at him with such light and love is enough for it to be his main source of oxygen. God he is painfully in love with you.
âHello my darling, how was work?â You ask with a tilt of your head. His heart skipped a beat.
âIt was irritating,â he moves to lay on you, resting his head on your stomach as your hands find their way to his head, âChris is annoying me again.â He says with a roll of his eyes. You chuckle lightly at that.
âDid he put his lunch in your designated spot in the fridge again? Or was it that he offered you an iced latte instead of an Americano? Oh! Maybe he asked whether you were free this weekend and asked you to hang out? Or-â
You are cut off with a rambunctious groan that makes you erupt in a fit of laughter. Minho goes to roll off you irked by your teasing, but you trap him with your legs and apologise by smothering his face in kisses.
Hearing just some of the things that he relayed to you about his days at work made him sound ridiculous for even being annoyed at such things.
You have an extraordinary way of doing that. Reminding him that heâs being too pessimistic about life without explicitly saying so. He realistically doesnât need to be pessimistic anymore. Not when he has you in his life, you are warm sun to shine through his cold grey skies.
Itâs astounding just how long he was able to survive before you. You have moulded him unknowingly into a man capable of loving someone to an extent which is unearthly. He is your paean to how beautiful love can be and you are his saviour.
âWhatâs going on in that pretty head?â You ask, rubbing your hands up and down his back. It should not surprise him how well you know him.
âDo you know how much you mean to me? I canât breathe without you Y/n. Thatâs frightening. I never thought I could genuinely be so happy. I never knew what love was until you yâknow?â Minho says.
He can feel your breath quicken and your heartbeat increase, but youâre silent. So he continues.
âI truly think, no, I know you make me a better man. I donât know why I am being sentimental right now, I think you have me in a lifelong trance.â He lifts his head up, resting his chin on your chest. He watches a tear fall from your eye. He wishes in that exact moment, that he could read peopleâs minds. Read your mind.
âWhy must you do that to me unprovoked?â You sob. Itâs his turn to comfort you as he manoeuvres his way out of the position you both currently hold. He lifts you gently and places you on top of him to which you bury your face in his neck.
The pitter-patter of rain starts to make itself known as the weather mimics your mood. Minho enjoys the rain though, it soothes him. Much like you soothe him. Itâs strange, he can see the similarities between you and droplets of rain. Both refresh and cool him down when heâs too hot. Both make sounds that immediately puts him into a tranquil state. Both necessary to the world to make the flowers bloom and the grass look greener.
You are his rain.
He runs his fingers along your spine as you mutter incomprehensible words. If he had to guess you are telling him that heâs a villain for making you feel such a way randomly in the day. You referred to him as such before.
Minho is a prick, albeit a lovable one; a prick nonetheless. He loves the way you react to his spontaneous outbursts of reasons why he loves you. Maybe itâs the way you look so adorable when you cry. Maybe itâs the way you will always cling to him after he does so. Whatever the reason, it only makes his heart grow fonder.
The room is filled with your sniffles here and there, low music, and the sound of heavy rain hitting the window.
Minho lays with you, his eyes closed, swaying you gently.
âDo you want to go and play in the rain?â He says breaking the rhythm of sounds.
âDo I want to go and play in the rain?â You echo, laughing, âNo, I donât want to get my hair wet.â
âYou can wear my hoodie and my raincoat?â He suggests. You look up at him, sitting up fully. He just smiles at you, awaiting your response.
âYou really are seriousâŠwow.â
âItâll be fun, come on!â He exclaims picking you up with him as he gets up from the sofa. He goes to grab a hoodie of his, one of your favourite ones to wear. He tucks your hair inside of the hood and pulls the drawstrings to tighten it around your face.
He laces the string with a bow and kisses the tip of your nose. He then runs to get his raincoat and swiftly encloses you inside of it. He laughs at you.
âWhat?â You say feigning annoyance with a tilt of your head.
âNothingâŠâ He hums with laughter. âYou just remind me of an Ewokâ He laughs pinching your cheeks. You scrunch your face up due to the attack of his fingers and try to bat him away.
âYou basically just called me a tiny bear.â You groan.
âMy cute tiny bear. Come.â He grabs your hand and leads you towards the front door so you can both put on your shoes. He glances you way, shooting you an âAre you ready?â look, to which you just roll your eyes at him.
He doesnât give you another second to change your mind, him basically lifting you off your feet and into the empty street. You squeal as the rain comes down hard, instantaneously soaking both Minho and you.
Minho closes his eyes and raises his head to the sky, letting the rain trickle down his face. He laughs and then looks down at you. Staring up at him, you look at him like he is the only person ever. He scans your face, taking in your beauty. He is too in awe to speak, instead choosing to try and contain his smile by biting his lip. It doesnât work.
âIâll love you forever.â You say loudly over the rain. Minhoâs heart stops beating for several moments.
âPromise me that, my love.â He says, cupping your face in both of his hands. His thumbs rest just beneath your eyes and he wipes the water away from them.
âI promise.â
He kisses you deeply, lovingly, passionately. And the both of you stand there in the pouring rain, smiling through your kisses and failing to suppress your laughter.
It was in that moment, that you two were the only people in the world. The two brightest of stars, conjoining to rival the sun.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
choose your last words, this is the last time
Minho paces back and forth in front of your driveway before approaching your door. He messed up big time, so he keeps being told by your friend Jeongin. He has always found your friends tiresome. Why being sent a paragraph long text of middle finger emojiâs is warranted for his jealousy? He will never know.
He isnât quite sure how to say he is sorry for what he did. He trusts you. Of course he trusts you, itâs you. You would never do anything to hurt him, let alone in spite of his childish moods.
He musters up enough courage to knock on your front door. Yet as he was about to, he retracts his hand. What if this is something you will never forgive him for? That canât possibly be an outcome of all this. Canât it?
He backs away from the door, pacing again. To any of your neighbours, he must look like some creep trying to talk himself into breaking into your house. Itâs best he just be brave and-
âMinho?â
He freezes in his tracks as he sees you in your pyjamas, carrying a trash bag. If your face didnât hold that nasty scowl directed towards him, he would have thought you looked cute in the set he got you for your birthday. You clear your throat. Right, he is here to plead his case.
âHeyâŠbin collection day tomorrow?â
An awful start.
You brush past him, throwing the bag into the bin. He watches you awkwardly, placing a hand on the back of his neck.
You walk back inside, but open the door wider. Taking that as his cue to go inside, he scurries in, sure to be quick as to keep the warmth inside.
You immediately head to your room and he sheepishly follows, acting as if he doesnât know the layout of your house by memory.
As you both enter your room, you go off to the bathroom to wash your hands. He sits and waits for you on the bed. His attention momentarily drawn to the window where he sees drops of rain run down the glass. He smiles softly before returning to his solemn state.
The bed dips beside him and he has to force himself not to stare at the side of your head. The remote control to your television gets thrown into his lap. He looks down, then up at you confused.
âPick something. Give yourself a couple of minutes to calm down and then say what you have to say.â You speak assertively.
He does as you say without question. Even if you are mad at him, you still know that he can struggle with righting his wrongs. Oh how he loves you.
A few minutes pass and Minho does indeed feel calmer. Enough to start the conversation he is still, slightly, scared to have.
âI am sorry. I had no right to tell you what to wear that night. I also acted like a dick to every single person that approached you, even your friends. That was not cool of me. At all.â He starts.
His eyes meet yours and it takes everything in him to not cower away in embarrassment. The reality of his actions settling in.
âYou are beautiful. I know that, everyone else knows that. I think I just got annoyed by people gushing to me about you and how they would love to be with you.â He turns to the window again, watching the rain as it gets heavier.
âIt triggered a protective side of me, well, a primal one.â He looks towards you now as you sit against the headboard, waiting for him to continue. âYouâre mine and I didnât want people to think they even had a chance with you.â
âSurely you would only think that if you didnât completely trust me.â You argue, raising an eyebrow.
Minho starts to fiddle with the remote. Casting his eyes away from yours in embarrassment.
âThat, would be a viable response to that yes. But I do trust you! I promise. You havenât given me any reason not to trust you I just-â He cuts himself off, holding back on what he truly wants to say.
He hears you sigh and you move to place your hand on his forearm. You stroke his arm softly with your thumb, letting him take his time. He really appreciates this side of you.
âI havenât been feeling like I am enough for you. I donât feel good in my body as of late and I think those insecurities translated through my actions of how I ministered to our relationship,â Minho takes a long, drawn out breath before continuing. âI think I was trying to drag you down with me into the same state of mind. For that, I am sorry Y/n.â He finishes looking up at you as his eyes shimmer from the fresh tears that threaten to fall.
You two stare at each other for a little while longer, the silence making Minho more panicked. You crawl over to him and straddle his lap, taking him by surprise. Your hands finding their rightful place in his hair, stroking softly.
âThank you for apologising to me. Make sure to also apologise to the many of my friends you rubbed the wrong way,â You chuckle lightly. âBut thank you for opening up to me and telling me what has been troubling you.â You take a deep breath and release with a sigh. âIt doesnât mean that I am completely happy with you, but I do want to show you that you are beautiful. You are everything and more to me Min.â You say smiling softly.
Minho swallows, his eyes blinking rapidly as he listens to you. He places his hands on your hips and strokes them softly. He may not be able to respond right now, the words caught in his throat. So he wants to let you know that he hears you.
âThis is a conversation that needs to be finished when emotions arenât as strong. However, I have failed as your lover to not make you feel like youâre enough. To not make you feel as if you are the sexiest man I have ever laid my eyes on.â You tantalisingly move your hips on his crotch.
The way his body responds to you will never cease to amaze him. All it takes is you sitting on top of him, hell, one look when you stare at him with those eyes and he is ready to go.
Gyrating slowly and pressing down on his now evident erection, a small whine escapes his lips. You smile at that and lift your shirt up off your body. Grabbing his hands, you lift them up to your chest for him to pay attention to your nipples.
He immediately began pinching and rolling them between his fingers. Your moans elicits a thrust of his hips up into your heat. Wanting more, you grab his head and he understands what you want of him. His eyes flutter closed and he attaches his soft lips to the bud, sucking and swirling his tongue. Releasing beautiful moans, he gets off to the salacious image of you using him at any given time to make him suck your nipples.
âI love the way you love my nipples Min. Love the little sounds you make.â You throw your head back in pleasure. âAll reasons why you are the sexiest man I know.â You mewl softly.
He switches nipples frantically. Always eager to please you. Only you. He craves every little thing about you. The way your lips taste, the way you taste. The way your body shudders around him as he takes you whenever you let him.
He is love drunk off of you. You are like a drug to him and he wishes to consume you âtil his dying breath.
The way you grind your hips down on him is unholy, it is like you are trying to make him cum in his pants. He is close, so close. His moans turning into desperate high pitched whimpers.
You halt your movements and hover above his lap. Swallowing the noise of disappointment with your mouth on his. Your tongue claiming the entirety of his mouth. You are so filthy and he loves it.
You catch his bottom lip between your teeth, dragging it slightly before gazing up at him with those eyes. You run your hands from his shoulders down his body, painfully slowly.
His head falls back into the pillow as he looks up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to just pull his pants down enough for him to free himself and fuck you senselessly until he is a shaking mess.
He knows better than to do that though. He wants to be good for you. Your good boy.
You pull down his joggers and his underwear and he shivers slightly. You hum in approval and kitten lick the head of his cock.
âY/n, bunny, please donât tease me!â He squalls. He thinks maybe he is being punished for his behaviour. Itâs the only way to explain the way you stroke him at a leisurely pace.
âHush, let me appreciate you. Mâgonna make you feel good loveâ You mumble more to yourself than to him.
Before he could protest anymore, he sharply intakes a breath. The way your lips mould around him so deliciously. Taking him down your pretty little throat. How did he get so lucky to find someone that riles him up as much as you do?
His hands reach down to lightly tug your hair, using it as a handle as he guides your head up and down. Your mouth felt so good. It always feels so good.
He simply canât control the needy whimpers and whines that are released from his throat. The sound doing so much as to turn him on even more. He has to be careful, he doesnât want to finish like this, not before you anyways. That is just selfish, what man doesnât let his gorgeous little pet finish before him?
He pulls you off of him, catching you by surprise. His eyes are dark now, as if a switch was flipped. He comes to his senses, his mission to grab back the reigns and take control. He inhibits you wiping the drool from your mouth as he pulls you into him and crashes his lips into yours.
You moan into his mouth and he is sure to swallow every one. He flips you onto your back, lightly pinning your arms in place. You are breathtaking. Just looking at the way your body glistens with sweat in the moonlight. Looks so tempting, so inviting. Like he wants to create a masterpiece with your empty canvas.
He kisses every part of your body, painting a picture with the little marks he leaves in his wake. His mouth hovers over your heat, breathing softly before planting a chaste kiss.
âOh kittenâŠyou are dripping.â He says with a devilish grin. âIs this all for me?â He asks tilting his head as he now looks up at you. He concludes that your mewling wonât satisfy him with the answer he wants to hear.
He squeezes your thighs roughly, causing you to look down at him. He just looks up at you with those gorgeous black eyes, his smile charming.
âI believe I asked you a question. Is my darling already too fucked out? I havenât even touched you in the place you so desperately need me yet. Did you have your fun, having the control hm?â
âYes, yes itâs all for you Min.â You whine attempting to squeeze your thighs together, but he is quicker than you. Spreading them wide his kisses litter just around your centre. His teasing merciless as you writhe beneath him.
âMin please, no more teasing. Need your mouth on me.â You beg, pushing your hips up to meet his face. He moves back, amused by your neediness.
âWell if thatâs what my little kitten wants, then itâs what my little kitten should get hm?â
Your body shudders as he goes down on you. Lapping up your juices like a man who has been starved for weeks. He feels your hands in his hair and it turns him on. He canât help but to rut against the bed to relieve some of the tension. The sounds, the sight, it is all truly so vulgar. Yet he loves nothing more than to please you.
After all, his name does sound prettiest when it is you moaning it in frantic desperation.
He makes you come undone three times and before he could get to four, you had pushed him away. Catching your breath as he knelt beside you and admires you. Admires the way the sweat trickles down the valley of your chest. The marks that colour your skin so deliciously. The way your eyes are closed tightly and your mouth open, no doubt getting a little dry.
He places an open mouthed kiss to your lips, his tongue providing the moisture that was being lost due to your heavy intake of air. He releases your lips and you make a noise of surprise as he opens your legs and situates himself between them, pushing into you slowly.
He has to still himself or else he will quite literally combust. You feel so good wrapped around him. You always feel so good. He opens his eyes to you already staring up at him Your eyes are overflowing with desire and he has to take a mental picture.
âYou intoxicate me. How is it I feel such burning passion whenever I am around you?â He starts to move within you, slowly, intimately, as he takes a deep breath. âI belong to you Y/n. I promise that I will never live a day without telling you that.â His strokes get deeper.
You are a babbling mess. He canât decipher anything you say, so he swallows your attempt with his mouth on yours. It isnât until he can taste salt that he realises he is crying. So much for keeping the control. He pulls away and places his arms beside your head, his pace still slow and deep.
âLook at me my darling,â He says with a shaky voice. He watches you flutter your eyes open. âPromise, mmh, promise me you will never leave my side.â
âI promise you.â You say, your own voice faltering no doubt being consumed by a ray of emotions. He drops his head into the crook of your neck, his tears now flowing down your neck. He feels your arms tighten around him. One hand on his back, one hand in his hair, stroking softly as you mutter âI love youâ over and over again.
He made love to you that night until the sun graced the sky. Never falling short of telling you just how much he adores you.
ââă»ââă»ă»âż ă»ă»ââă»ââ
we were born to die.
Itâs been a year now. A year of watching Paul and Vanessa, two months since he brought Dori home. Other than those three main factors in his life now, Minho is still miserable.
Much like the weather this morning as it downpours. Heâs learnt to hate the rain since the end of his relationship with you. There isnât much to like, not anymore.
He walks the same route he always does. His shoes are getting muddy, the path littered in grass clippings collated by the water. It proves to be extremely bothersome to see the grass stick to his shoes. Especially on a day like today, if grass is the thing that sets Minho off into a fit of rage; so help anyone who pisses him off on his way home.
Life is cruel. It will give you one thing you wish to cherish forever, to love until you canât love no more. Makes you feel found when you were lost for so long. Gives you happiness, makes you feel alive like you can accomplish anything the world throws in your direction.
Then it takes it away. Just like that. The thing you had wished to cherish, perishes. Strips you of your ability to love. When you were finally found, you become lost again. Takes your happiness, makes you feel as if youâre rotting inside like you canât will yourself to try and overcome the obstacles the world throws in your direction.
Living a life like that is revolting. A life in which you feel your only purpose of being born was to die. Minho laughs bitterly to himself. Born to die. Ironic because no matter what people tell you, that is always going to be the outcome of all life.
As he stands with the flowers in his hand, he isnât sure whether itâs his tears or the rain. Perhaps both as they start to trickle down the petals and collate in the pistil.
He kneels, unbothered about the grass and mud stains he is to get on the knee caps of his trousers.
Resting the flowers against the polished marble, his fingers journey over the name etched in the stone.
Your name.
His hand falls from the gravestone and situates themselves next to his head that has now pressed itself firmly into the ground. He sobs as he bows over you.
He loves you. He doesnât think he will ever stop loving you. He canât, he wonât.
Ê hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated á”Ì É
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.
© 2023 diddybok
125 notes
·
View notes
any plans of pt2 for bsf skz when u like another member PLEASE
may have something cooking, but itâs at the back of (middle maybe) the line i fearđââïž
2 notes
·
View notes
tuhđââïž
no pressure tags!: @jinnie-ret @lalal-99 @therhythmafterthesummer @tehyunnie
which y/n stereotype are you?
16K notes
·
View notes
ᶻᶻᶻ diddybokâs ᶻᶻᶻ ââ·âżâč W.I.P ââ· âżâč
This will be updated regularly, so come back and check this page to see what is upcoming and in the works!
Stories/series | Drabbles | Text stories | one-shots
The Only Reason | Seungmin Kim
part of the afterglow collaborative series | POSTPONED
The Tears that Donât Sting | Hyunjin Hwang
part two of âA Soft Blow On the Faceâ | POSTPONED
High Off You | Jisung Han | requested
smoke sesh with Ji turns into a steamy fwb | not yet started
I donât wanna play anymore! | chanlix | requested
a fun gaming session with chris and felix quickly turns not so fun as they keep beating you in every game you play | not yet started
Needed | ot8 | requested
part two of the skz when needy text fic | in progressâŠ12.5%
Didnât go as planned | ot8 | requested
part two of skz finding out your crush on another member | not yet started
Please? | ot8 | requested
stray kids messaging you whikst theyâre on tour, except they have aâŠteeny tiny problem! | not yet started
And the best mother award goes to⊠| ot8 | requested
reader asking stray kids whether she will be a good mother | not yet started
91 notes
·
View notes
i like you, you have good fics.
thank you kind person
0 notes
itâs the âpleaseâŠnoâ bro was stressingđđđ
one of the most famous hyunjin moments for me was when he posted a selfie in the skz member chat not the fan chat and then was like How do I delete this?
438 notes
·
View notes
YOUâRE TELLING ME YOU THINK YOUR KINK FICS WERE âRELATIVELY SPICYâ ???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!
maybe jeonginâs and seungminâs were like a bit whew! but i think the rest were relatively likeâŠnot tame but not the spiciest it can go??đđ IDK
1 note
·
View note
I was really rooting for the âskz texts but theyâre on tourâ would win đ€
itâs okay both will be:
3 notes
·
View notes
oooooh interesting aurkay!! the final results:
you know i love a poll, i dont know how smutty to make the fic that won. iâve started and chrisâ isâŠsee idk how to determine the spice scale really because what i might think is not spicy might be someoneâs mega spicy like i needa referenceđ
do we want it FILTHY or do we want it âđđâ or do we want it âđČđČâ ???
0 notes
I love annoying the authors in their inbox, but I always feel bad because I never wanna annoy youđđ
ANNOY ME. PLEASE
2 notes
·
View notes