Minho Imagines (Minho X Reader)

Be Mine, oh Moonshine of Mine

By: Naomii66
From: DeviantArt

Minho was always thoughtful. He never forgot, never missed, and never made a mistake. And it was all good and nice – had he been less smart he wouldn't have lived the day we got together, the night we first made love or the first and only night he got drunk.

I'm sure he'd be more than glad to forget that particular memory.

It all happened a few weeks after Gally first showed us his moonshine. Everyone was suspicious at first and grimaced whenever they smelled the keen spoor of alcohol but after the few brave (or stupid) Glader drank more than one sip and they slowly felt better, the others started asking for a jar of it. I never liked it – I felt sick whenever the stink minded me – and rarely drank more than a few sips when Newt or Minho persuaded me to do so. I preferred to just laugh at the others.

One of these drinking nights was placed before Minho's day-off and for the first (and last) time he decided to drink not only half a jar. He was pretty much boiled.

At first he was attached to me, hands never leaving my body – my waist, hips, thighs or arms – and he occasionally placed a wet, hot kiss on my neck or cheeks. We didn't talk, though – as usual, he was surrounded by his fellow Runners and they were talking about stories which happened in the Maze. How they face-planted, klunked their pants when they mistaken a blade beetle for a Griever and stuff like that. After the first two or three empty jars they were laughing even when someone said 'the' and that was my cue. I excused myself, stating I must go and sleep because I'll have to have a look at the shed of the Bloodhouse. Winston said one of the lintels seemed like cracking and he didn't know why.

Minho tried to make me stay but after a few minutes of nagging me, he realized it was useless and loosened his grip on my hand. When I finally slipped under the sheets, all my nerves were screaming for sleep. Even the quick, hot shower I took couldn't chase away my numbness and I was happy when I could close my eyes and let the boat of lassitude nestle me to the dream-ocean.

# # #

A strong hand pulled me back to reality – a strong, muscled arm which sneaked around my waist, pushing me tightly against a hard, broad chest.

"(Y/N)," Minho mumbled, his alcoholic breath felt like a slap right to my face, dragging me away from the soft drifts of dreamland.

I let out a deep sigh, placing my hand on Minho's. "Is the party over?" He didn't reply, instead nuzzled his nose into my hair and neck, groaning unidentifiably as an answer. "Ya should sleep."

"'don wanna shleeeeep," he grunted, voice raspy and unsure. He tightened the embrace of his arms and pulled my lower body closer to his crotch, a noticeable bulge pressing to my hindquarters. "'m nottired. Imma hooorny."

He pressed a sloppy kiss on my neck, which sent warm rushes of lust through my spine. My mind knew I was way too tired and Minho was way too drunk to actually live out his desires but my hormones knew what Minho could do to me (even in this state). Had my heart been unable to convince my mind Minho wasn't really himself, the rational side of me would've lost the battle over my actions.

"You're drunk," I stated and shifted so I could look at Minho's face. The faint lights of the outside world painted his olive complexion bluish grey and the glint in his almond-shaped eyes was dull. I softly placed my hand on his face, stroking his cheek gently. "Sleep, Min, 'kay?"

Minho furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes. "'don want toooo."

In a mere second, he had me pinned beneath him. I sighed in pure want as his long, athletic and vigorous body pressed against mine wholly. Usually I never minded it was hard to breathe for me like that with all his weight on me – the way every single inch of me was pushed so firmly against Minho was worth it.