#jisung

Being roommates with Jisung was easy. The two of you moved in together maybe about a year ago, but you'd been friends at while before that.

A friend of a friend introduced the two of you and you'd been inseparable since. He's not messy, he cooks and he's patient and kind and willing to help you with pretty much anything. He's the best roommate and friend you think you could have ever asked for.

You'd been on so many blind dates set up by your other friends at this point that it feels like the dating pool has gotten significantly smaller. And they've all been mostly awful to be around.

To say you weren't the most experienced person out there would probably be the biggest understatement of the century. You didnt even really touch yourself. It never felt good when you did it so you'd honestly just given up.

Until you met a guy you thought could definitely be the one. Hyunjin was the total package. Looks, brains, personality—all just felt like 10's across the board. The only problem was you were sure you would fumble when it came to intimacy.

When you stumbled home after your 3rd date with him, nerves shot, Jisung's eyebrow raised as he watched you slump on the couch next to him.

"So....how was the date...?" He questioned, watching you prop yourself up on your elbows, face contorted into one of confusion and desperation.

"It was great, like so good actually. He's a really good guy and i can see myself with him for a long time—"

"But? Why am I sensing a but?"

"But i'm so under-prepared in the sex department its embarrassing!" You blurt out, huffing loudly into your hands. Jisung's eyes widened a fraction at your honesty before replacing his expression to one of ease and calm before responding.

"I mean, if it's something I can help with I dont mind. What do you need to know?" It was an innocent enough question, but his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure you'd hear it.

But you didnt notice, your turmoil too great as you unleashed everything to your friend.

"I-i literally dont know anything. I mean, im not at virgin but that was a mutually beneficial agreement between me and a guy back in my first year of college just so we could say we weren't virgins. Like, it sucked. It was so bad. And it hurt worse than I ever thought. We were so clumsy." You pause and take a breath before you say something that rocked Jisung to his core.

"I've never even really touched myself either. It just didnt feel good so I didnt do it! How the fuck am I supposed to have sex with this man if I don't know what i'm doing! I-"

You'd stopped mid explosion, looking at him and speaking quicker than your brain could catch up.

"You... could you teach me? Please? I-i could really use it." Your eyes were pleading. You sit up on the couch, scooting closer to him, almost touching as you cross your legs and press your hands together in a sort of prayer-like gesture.

It seemed his brain couldnt catch up either, because what the fuck do you mean teach you? Give you pointers? It was a question he needed to ask but he was sure he wouldn't survive the answer.

"So you want me to give you like...tips...?" He pressed, unable to fathom what you're really asking.

"T-teach me how to touch myself? Maybe? If I can't make myself feel good how can someone else make me feel good?" You play with your fingers, looking down at them so you couldn't see how he'd react to such a direct and bold request from someone thats supposed to be his friend.

"Who else am I supposed to trust with information like this?" You whisper softly, eyes finally moving upwards to meet his in that innocent stare you always make when you want something from him.

God damnit, was he screwed. He takes a drink of the water sitting next to him, hoping it will cool him down before he gives you an answer. You speak up again.

"Hannie... have you ever, you know? Fingered a girl before?" You ask curiously, the girls that run in your circle talking about how good it feels when their boyfriends touch them. You're dying to know the answer.

He spits out his drink before you could even finish asking. Fuck. Why would she ask something like that right now? Im clearly not fucking well in the head.

"What the fuck, Y/N? I mean, of course I have but... w—shit! Why are you suddenly so interested in what I've done?" He's stammering, hands thrown dramatically with each word.

"Help me, Hannie. Please?" Your puppy-dog eyes were a vice. Too hard to ignore. He sits his drink down, sighing and tousling his hair with one of his hands, wiping the other over his face to keep himself together.

"Do you really know what you're asking, baby? You're asking me, your roommate and friend, to touch you. To make you cum on my fingers. For what? For practice? I need you to tell me clearly what you want from me right now so that I don't fucking misunderstand, Y/N."

Your breath comes out shakily, the temperature in the room rising dangerously high as you place a clammy, sweaty hand on his knee. "I'm asking you to teach me how to do it. I trust you with everything, Ji. I-if you don't want to i-"

"NO! No! I mean, I want to—fuck i really want to, but you understand the lines we're crossing right? If I cross it im really not sure we can come back from this."

"I'm fully capable of making my own decisions. I understand what im asking... I just... I wouldn't ask if-"

Jisung cuts you off, his reasoning snapped at the confirmation. His eyes dark with intent, he moves toward you.

"Lay down on your back, baby. I'll take care of you." You obey pretty much instantly, laying back with your head on the arm of the couch. His fingers hesitantly dance along the top of your pants, pulling them down slowly.

You're breathing heavy already in anticipation, your legs slowly being exposed to the cool air of your shared apartment until you're bare from the waist down for his hungry eyes to see.

"'m not gonna touch you, you're gonna learn all on your own. I'm here to guide you, okay? Lemme help that much..." He chokes out, the sight of your glistening pussy against the dim light of the room making his throat dry.

You nod in understanding, gripping the couch cushion to the left of your head to ground yourself. Your right hand trails down your stomach, ready to do whatever he tells you.

"Start by sliding your fingers through yourself, you're already wet, just need to use some of it— juuuuust like that, pretty girl. Good job. Now, press your fingers against your clit and rub it in circles for me." He has a death grip on your thighs, holding them apart for a better view.

"I-i dont know hannie, feels weird..." you say, stumbling over your words. For the first time since you got home, he grins.

"C'mon, keep going. There ya go, doin' so well for me... why don't you go ahead and slide a finger in for me, hmm? Can you handle that, love?" Honey drips from his voice as he teases you, his grip loosening to rub gently up and down your exposed legs as your fingers stop circling, reaching town lower until you reach your aching hole.

"How? I-I dont..Can you just—can you show me?" He groans audibly at the pressing tone of your voice. He takes your hand by the wrist carefully, dragging your fingers back through your slick folds before he pauses at your entrance and leans forward.

"Watch closely, baby. Take your middle finger—yeah bend it like that, good girl—and ease it in. Theeeeeere, that's it..." He encourages you through it, all but feeling himself how your pussy is sucking your own finger in down to the knuckle.

"Fuck, can you hear that? Listen to the cute noises your cunts making... c'mon baby, keep it going f'me...flex your finger inside, try to reach that spot—you'll know it when you feel it." He's audibly panting now, the sound of your finger plunging into your depths making his head spin.

"H-hannie please, fuck, I can't reach it!" A tear falls from your eye from frustration and his reasoning just fucking snaps.

Almost instantly, he removes your finger from within yourself and places the digit in his mouth, sucking it clean. He whines, a sound so utterly pornographic you clench around nothing.

Before you could reprimand him, you're moaning just as loudly. His finger replaces where yours once was, disappearing between your folds, pumping it slowly but firmly.

"Fuck baby, this what you wanted? Did you want my hands on you that badly?" He spits, but there's no venom. He's not really looking for an answer either, adding a second finger. His other hand spreads your lips open before placing his thumb on your clit, rubbing it the same way he had you do it minutes ago.

Your head is thrown back, sweat forming on your forehead, your hair sticking to it as your body fights to escape the pleasure. Your lip is drawn between your teeth, attempting and failing to keep your pleasured sobs quiet.

Poor guy never really stood a chance when you're just so pretty making all these depraved noises underneath him. He spreads your legs wide, arms braced on your thighs so you cant close your legs on him.

"Wanted your sweet Hannie to fuck you on his fingers, hmm? I got you, baby. Gonna make you see fucking stars." He growls low, the noise vibrating his chest against your leg.

And he picks up the pace, his fingertips desperately searching for that spongy spot inside that will make you go so wild until—

"F-fuck, Hannie! T-that feels... strange...." You whimper, hands flying to his own. To stop him or to make him keep going you really aren't sure anymore.

"Shit, I found it huh? There she is, there's my pretty baby." He's desperate, finally leaning down and attaching his lips to your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth gently before running his tongue over it in feverish rhythm with his fingers.

He could stay down there forever, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you're nothing but a breathy mess of spend and sweat

And when you finally let go, cumming all over his fingers with the filthiest incoherent babbles coming from your mouth, he feels like he could bust.

He fucks his fingers into you more sloppily, licking and sucking and gently biting your clit and you hiss at the pleasurable pain. He's definitely died and gone to heaven.

His poor, neglected, leaky cock is grinding against the couch as he eats you out with vigor, unable to stop himself even as you start to come down from your high.

"Ji—fuck, Jisung! S-slow down! I just came i don't, aughhh—I dont have another one in me..." you whine, fingers digging harshly into his scalp, and he takes this as a sign to just keep fucking going til you cum again.

It really isnt long either, the combination of his tongue and fingers, and the visual of this grown man humping your shared couch for relief has you cumming again.

Backing away reluctantly, he wipes his mouth with his thumb before placing the finger into his mouth and sucking the remainder of your juices off with a satisfied grunt.

"Hannie..." The look he gives you feels scalding, as if one touch right now would fucking burn.

"Anything else you need help with tonight baby? I'm already here..." He leans over you, almost menacingly. He was so close that you could feel his breath on your cheek. He's so close now, his head now burying itself in the crook of your neck before biting you hard. It wasn't painful, no, he just bit you hard enough to leave a mark.

"W-what the hell, Ji?" You gasp, slapping a hand over the place he bit. His smile widened. A predatory smile that had you trying to back further up the couch because you were so obviously his prey.

"Last chance baby, before I turn around and go to my room and fuck my fist into my hand. Do. You. Need. My. Help?" He enunciates each word, with each one he climbs atop you. His lips are almost pressed to yours now, hints of you on his breath.

"I-shit, Hannie please... can you stretch me out... y-you know, so that when it comes time I can take him?" And fuck he's pissed that you would even ask. His hands grabs both of yours into one before he pins them behind your head and snails.

"Baby if i'm gonna fuck you right now, there isn't any god damned way you are going on that date, now or never." He says, voice calm but his face gives him away. He's done playing.

"Know this, baby girl. If you have my cock in you tonight, you're gonna be Hannie's girl. Got it? Not fucking you in preparation for another man."

He grabs your cheeks with the hand not occupied and makes you look him in the face. "So? Want me to screw your brains out or do you wanna go on that date? Choose now, because I have no patience left, love." He whispers, his voice breaking.

"You know, since the moment you moved in I've wanted to thrust myself so deeply into your cunt you'd feel me there for weeks after." He paused, looking into your eyes, the atmosphere changing so quickly you felt you had whiplash.

"Still sure you wanna go on that date? Or, Would you like your Hannie fucking you so full you forget what it ever felt like to be empty?" He's spitting the words out so fast, it's like he can't control it, like he's desperate for your answer.

"W-want my Hannie-" And barely a millisecond later, he's on his back on the cramped sectional, hands on your hips as you hover above him. Your hands are flat on his chest as you lower yourself on his thick member, twitching when your pussy lips kiss the tip of his leaking head.

He shivers at the contact, whining when you finally sink down on him all the way. Your hips swivel in circles, his tip catching on your g-spot already. Han groans at your movement, his eyes glazed and his mouth in an O shape as he watches you.

"Shit baby, slower. I won't last if you move your hips like that." And he grips you so tightly, attempting to steel any resolve he may have left.

The noises the both of you made could have been enough to have you teetering on the edge of another orgasm. Jisung isn't sure if he wants you to keep going like this or if he wants to fuck up into you.

He decides, though, slowly lifting you up and down, impaling you on his cock in the steadiest of motions. Your tongue is lolling out, whiny whispers of "Hannie, please!" And "-need you to go faster, gonna go crazy!" And he feels fucking feral.

Your arms circle around his head, bringing him close, your chest all but thrust into his face as you ride him.

"Yeah baby, that's it, ride my cock. Feels go—hnghhh—soooo Good. 'Ya belong to me now, hmm? This is Hannie's pussy now." He's rambling again, any thought he had spilling straight from his mouth.

He lifts your shirt, pulling your bra up with it before he latches his lips around a pert nipple. His tongue rolls around the bud before nibbling, and when you yelp at him he grins into your breast.

"Oh, we like a little pain? My cute little pain-slut. Think i could make you cum just by biting and sucking at your chest? Maybe another time..."

He ruts up into you, mouth still attached to your now abused nipple, fucking you so thoroughly you know you'll be sore tomorrow.

"S-say my name. Please baby, Say my name t-three times...Fuck!" He's pounding you erratically, his mouth releasing your as he leans back to watch your face contort with each ragged jut of his hips into yours.

"Just three... and I'll let you cum. P-please!" This man had never looked so needy before, all the vibrato from earlier just melting as he gets closer to his own orgasm.

"Hannie, please—" you beg. "C-can't keep going." You're whimpering as he plants his feet more firmly on the edge of the couch for leverage, fucking up into you so hard it felt like he was in your cervix.

"There's one baby, keep going pretty, I know you can do it." You groan in annoyance, hitting him on the chest as he wrecks your insides.

"J-ji, I said please! Is that not enough?" You cry, the sensation overwhelming. "S-shit, there's two, I'll take it." He makes a noise between a sigh and a whine, continuing his assault on your poor cunt. "One more, please baby, just one more and I swear I'll give you exactly what you've been begging for."

"Han Jisung, I swear to god if you don't let me cum I'll go to Hyunjin for—"

"That's three." He says with a joyful grunt, continuing his rough pace from before. The both of you wail as your highs come crashing down on you. Thick, hot ropes shoot into your cunt, Jisung's hips stuttering as he collapses backward on the couch.

At the same time, warm liquid splashes between the two of you, the whites of your eyes visible. You fall on top of him, the only sound the both of you making now are just heavy, spent breaths.

A few minutes pass as you try to collect yourself before he speaks up.

"Make sure to call that guy and tell him you're unavailable. Indefinitely."

BANGCHAN

You’re at a bar with your friends and you’re already pretty tipsy. You’re not even sure how, but your phone ends up in your best friend’s hands, and she decides to do the right thing: call your boyfriend.

“Chan?” she asks when he picks up. “Hey, sorry.. I think you should come pick up your girlfriend… she’s… very happy.”

Chan sighs on the other end, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“‘Very happy’ as in ‘singing’ or ‘I’m about to climb on the table’?” he asks.

Your friend laughs.

“Let’s just say she was singing your ‘la-la-la’ part but… um… it’s not even one of your songs.”

“Perfect” Chan chuckles softly. “Send me the location, I’m on my way. And please don’t let her get on anything elevated.”

Meanwhile, you’re at the bar, wrestling with an olive that slipped off your fork.

“Don’t leave…” you tell the air, giggling. “I love you too, olive.”

Twenty‑five minutes later, Chan walks into the bar with a cap and mask on, trying to stay low‑key. Your friends recognize him immediately and wave him over. You, on the other hand, are staring at the cocktail menu upside down.

The moment you look up and see him, you transform.

“THAT’S MY BOYFRIEEEEND!” you yell, throwing your arms up like you’ve just seen your ult at a fanmeeting.

A few heads turn. Chan closes his eyes for a second, resigned, but when he sees your flushed cheeks, bright eyes and overflowing smile, his whole expression softens.

“Hey, superstar.” He comes up to the table, giving your friends a small bow. “Has she been very loud?”

“Only a little” your friend lies, laughing. “She hasn’t stopped talking about you though.”

“Of course” you say, pointing at him with a slightly uncoordinated finger. “He’s… he’s my… how do you say it… my… legalised crush.”

Chan bursts out laughing.

“‘Legalised crush’? I’m keeping that one.”

He drapes his jacket over your shoulders, buttoning it himself. His scent hits you all at once and you sigh dramatically.

“You smell…” You lean in to sniff his neck. “You smell like home.”

Your friends exchange a collective “awww” look. Chan shakes his head, but he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Come on, drunkie” he helps you stand. “Say bye to your friends before you confess your love to the whole bar.”

“I already did…” you mumble. “I told them my boyfriend is the most handsome in the world and no one can argue.”

“That’s true, but you didn’t have to say it that loud,” he jokes.

In the car, Chan drives slowly. One hand on the wheel, the other going back and forth between resting on your knee and holding your hand, squeezing gently whenever you mumble something.

“Chan…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know you’re more handsome than beer?”

He arches a brow, amused, eyes still on the road.

“I sure hope so. Otherwise we’ve got a problem.”

“Beer doesn’t have dimples” you reply, reaching over to poke his cheek. “You do. I want them.”

“Hey, don’t touch my face so much while I’m driving, dangerous drunk” he laughs. “I’m gonna crash the car because of you.”

“Is the car more important than me?” you ask, deeply offended.

He laughs harder.

“Of course not. But I want both of us to make it home in one piece” he says, giving your hand a light squeeze. “And tomorrow too.”

At a red light, he turns slightly toward you. Your eyes are half‑closed, a silly smile on your face, head tilted against the headrest.

“I missed you” you murmur, almost in a whisper. “Even though I was with you on WhatsApp…”

“You’ve spent the whole night sending me blurry selfies of your drink” he says, trying not to laugh. “And telling me ‘look, my boyfriend in my heart’ while filming your chest.”

Your eyes fly open.

“I did that?”

“Yup. I have proof. I’m saving it for the next time you say you’re not affectionate.”

The light turns green and he starts driving again, still smiling.

“Chan…”

“Again?”

“Thanks for coming” you whisper. “You could be sleeping.”

“I could” he admits. “But I’d rather come get my legalised crush before she ends up singing on a table.”

“I thought about it…” you confess, very serious. “But I didn’t. Because I respect you.”

He laughs so hard he has to clear his throat.

“Thank you for respecting me by not climbing on a table” he says. “I really appreciate it.”

You get to the parking lot. Chan parks carefully, gets out first, then opens your door.

“Okay, one step. There you go. Another. Good job, drunk baby.”

“Don’t call me drunk…” you pout, clinging to his arm. “Call me… yours.”

Chan freezes for a second, looking at you like he just took a direct hit to the heart.

“Okay, that killed me a little” he admits, wearing a stupidly soft smile. “Come on, mine.”

In the elevator, you catch sight of your reflection in the mirror and pull a face.

“I look ugly…” you complain.

“You look drunk” he corrects. “But you’re still gorgeous. And mine, which is worse.”

“You’re love‑blind” you say, pointing at him.

“Absolutely” he agrees.

Back home, he leads you to the bed, sits you on the edge and crouches down to take your shoes off.

“You’re going to hate heels tomorrow” he comments.

“I already hate them now…” you answer, watching how carefully he undoes the strap around your ankle. “You’re so gentle… I like it.”

He shoots you a quick look, eyes shining.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you faceplanting on the floor” he teases.

He leaves you sitting while he goes to get water and medicine. When he comes back, you’re hunched over, staring at your hands.

“Hey” he taps your knee lightly. “You’re very focused for three in the morning.”

“I was thinking…” you look up. “What if you get bored of me one day?”

Chan goes still. He sighs softly, sits next to you and tilts your face toward him with two fingers.

“I’m only bored when you’re not around” he says, holding your gaze. “I spent the whole night refreshing our chat like an idiot.”

You just stare at him, eyes glassy from the alcohol… and emotion.

“I love you a lot, you know?” you murmur.

He smiles, softer this time.

“I know. And I love you too. Now, water.” He hands you the glass. “Big sip, please.”

You drink, pouting.

“It tastes like nothing…”

“It tastes like ‘tomorrow you won’t hate me’” he replies.

He eases you down, pulls the blanket over you and starts to get up, but you grab his wrist.

“Stay…”

“I was already planning on it” he chuckles. “Where would I go?”

He slips into bed next to you. You automatically roll towards him, press your face into his chest.

“Chan…”

“Last thing you say tonight, okay?” he warns you, gently tracing circles on your back.

“Thank you for always coming to get me” you whisper. “Even when I’m annoying.”

He hugs you tighter.

“Thank you for always calling me” he answers. “Even when you’re annoying.”

He kisses your hair and, just before you fully drift off, he hears you mumble:

“Legalised crush… forever…”

And to him, silently, that sounds like a perfect deal.

LEE KNOW

“Chill dinner with the girls” you told him. “I’ll be back early” you promised. It’s 3:27 a.m. by the time the key finally turns in the lock.

Minho is on the couch, half‑lying down, the cats sleeping somewhere nearby and the TV on mute. The second he hears you stumble a bit against the doorframe, he knows.

“…Uh‑huh” he mutters. “So much for ‘chill’.”

You appear in the living room like nothing’s wrong, trying to walk in a straight line. For you right now, that’s science fiction.

“Baby loooove!” you throw yourself at him.

He barely has time to drop the remote on the table before you land on him. He catches you by the waist like it’s nothing.

“You smell like an entire bar… and your friends’ laughter” he says, sniffing the air.

“And like you… in my heart…” you say, resting your forehead on his chest.

Minho rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Weren’t you coming back ‘early’?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“I did… come back early” you say with all the seriousness in the world. “Time is… relative.”

“Oh, so now you’re a drunk philosopher.” He laughs. “Come on, sit before you fall.”

He settles you on the couch, but you insist on straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I was gonna bring you bread…” you mumble sadly. “The good kind… but I ate it. I’m sorry.”

Minho stares at you with a mix of mock‑offense and fondness.

“You’re telling me you cheated on me with a baguette?”

“It was… a moment of weakness” you reply very seriously. “It had seeds on top…”

He loses it and laughs out loud.

“You’re unbelievable” he taps his forehead against yours. “Okay, show me what you did bring in your bag, carb cheater.”

You rummage dramatically through your bag and pull out a crushed packet of napkins, a toothpick and a bottle label.

“Gifts” you announce.

“Wow” he deadpans. “You’re spoiling me.”

You’re so close to him that he can feel your body slowly going limp as sleep pulls at you. Minho tightens his arms around your waist.

“Hey, hey, don’t fall asleep yet.” He pats your cheek gently. “We have to take your makeup off first, okay?”

“Nooo, too much effort…” you whine, burying your face in his neck. “I wanna sleep with you.”

He swallows, rubs your back for a second, then says firmly:

“You’ll sleep with me, but clean. Come on, up you go.”

He basically lifts you in his arms, your arms limp around his neck, and carries you to the bathroom. He sits you down carefully on the closed toilet lid and moves a strand of hair from your face.

“Stay right here. Don’t move. Don’t try to dance. Don’t try to flirt with the mirror.”

“Too late…” you mumble, looking at your reflection. “I’m pretty.”

Minho glances at himself in the mirror, then at you.

“You’re right. But the mirror’s not going to take your makeup off.” He grabs micellar water and cotton pads. “I am.”

He stands in front of you and starts wiping your eyelids with a gentleness that doesn’t match all the roasting he’s been doing.

“Close your eyes” he murmurs.

You obey, though the first time you open them again just to look at him.

“You’re very handsome” you blurt. “You know, when we’re outside I think, ‘look, he’s mine,’ but I don’t say it because I’m shy.”

“You’re drunk, but thanks anyway,” he answers with a little smile he tries to hide.

He removes your mascara, foundation, carefully cleaning your cheeks. Every now and then, you grab onto his t‑shirt like a little kid so you don’t fall forward.

“Don’t leave” you mumble.

“I’m not going anywhere, idiot. I’m just cleaning you up.”

When he’s done with your face, he tosses the used cotton pads and crouches a bit to be at your eye level.

“Let me see those teeth” he says, putting your toothbrush in your hand. “You can do this. I’ll supervise.”

You start brushing, but then you begin to sing with the toothbrush in your mouth like it’s a microphone.

“La la laaa, my boyfriend is hot…” you giggle.

Minho leans against the doorframe, staring at you like, “I cannot deal with this.”

“You look like an adorable gremlin” he says. “Spit and rinse before you end up swallowing the toothpaste.”

Once that’s over, he helps you up.

“Let’s get you to bed, zombie mode is fully on.”

“I want the cats…” you protest weakly.

“The cats are sleeping, like you should be.”

In the bedroom, he lays you down on the bed, carefully helps you out of your uncomfortable clothes, puts you in something loose and soft, and pulls the blanket up over you. When he tries to move away, you latch onto his arm.

“Minho…”

“What?”

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

He exhales quietly, lies down next to you and pulls you against his chest.

“That’s what I’m here for” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “But don’t pull that ‘I’ll be back early’ stunt again, okay?”

“Okay…” you mumble, half asleep already. “I’m sorry about the bread…”

He laughs softly into your hair.

“I’ll get over it. I love you, drunkie.”

“Love you too…” you whisper, finally giving in to sleep.

CHANGBIN

Changbin is in the studio, super focused, scribbling lyrics, when suddenly his phone starts vibrating non‑stop.

Notifications. From you.

First, texts:

“I misss youuuu” “I mis youuuu” “i mis uou” “I MISS YOU MORE THN COCACOLA WITOUT GAS” “with*” “gas*” “i dnt now how 2 writ”

Then a blurry photo of your feet with:

“look my shoess theyre hapy”

And a voice note:

“Chanbinnn… no, you’re not Chanbin… wait… yes… yes you’re Changbin… ah, I don’t know… I love you. End of message.”

He bursts out laughing. Chan, at the other desk in the studio, looks over.

“What’s going on?” Chan asks.

“My girlfriend…” Changbin turns his phone to show him part of the disaster. “She’s in drunk keyboard mode.”

Another text from you:

“i love u mor thn cocacola with gas without gas with ice without iceee” “come get me”

Changbin drops his pen.

“I’m out” he announces, packing up. “Before she starts sending me drunk rap tracks.”

Chan laughs.

“Record the audios” he says. “Blackmail material.”

When he gets to the bar, he spots you at a table, your head propped in your hand, half‑full glass in front of you. You’re staring at the ice like it’s fascinating.

“Hey” he says, resting a hand on your shoulder.

You lift your head slowly, blinking.

“…MY BOYFRIEND!” you shout. “The strongest man in the woooorld!”

A few people stare. Changbin holds back a laugh and pulls you into a hug.

“That’s me” he says. “Your super strong boyfriend here to rescue his super drunk girlfriend.”

“I’m not that drunk…” you mumble. Right then, you try to stand up and almost fall.

He grabs your waist and steadies you.

“Of course not” he teases. “You’re completely sober and it’s just the floor moving.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and thanks your friends for calling. You step out of the bar and the cold air hits your face.

“Binnie…” you say suddenly. “Did I tell you I told everyone you’re the best rapper in the world?”

He frowns slightly, amused.

“Everyone?”

“The waitress…” you start ticking off on your fingers. “The bathroom guy… some girl in the bathroom who said her boyfriend is annoying and I said, ‘well, mine is perfect’… and… I don’t know.”

Changbin goes quiet for a few seconds, wearing the biggest smile he’s had in days.

“Perfect, huh…” he mutters under his breath.

He gets you into a taxi and slides in next to you. As soon as the car starts moving, you lean on his shoulder, hugging his arm.

“So strong… so handsome… mine,” you murmur, stroking his bicep.

“My completely drunk girl” he replies, kissing your temple. “But still mine.”

You suddenly grab your phone again, like you just remembered something.

“Look…” you show him the chat. “I wrote that I miss you… but autocorrect hates me.”

He laughs out loud reading your spelling disasters.

“I’m saving this” he says. “I’m going to print it and frame it.”

“Nooo…” you whine. “You’re gonna bully me.”

“Better: motivation.” He grins. “‘Don’t drink that much again or you’ll type like this.’”

When you get home, Changbin pretty much carries you to the bed.

“Water” he orders, holding a glass in front of you.

“I don’t want it.”

“Do you want to be alive tomorrow?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Then drink.”

You obey, sulking.

Once you finally lie down, you grab his t‑shirt to keep him from leaving.

“Stay…” you murmur. “Please.”

He kicks his shoes off quickly and climbs into bed next to you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

“I love you more than Coke with gas” you mumble, already half asleep.

Changbin stares at the ceiling, biting his lip to keep from smiling too wide.

“That’s a lot of love, you know” he says quietly. “I love you even more than the gym. So we’re even.”

HYUNJIN

This time, your friends decide to do it properly: they take your phone away so you can’t spam everyone and call Hyunjin directly.

“Hyunjin, hi, it’s ___,” your friend says. “Sorry to bother you, but she’s really cute… and really drunk. And she won’t stop saying your name, so we figured you’d probably want to pick her up.”

Hyunjin, who was quietly painting at the dorm, sighs with a soft smile.

“What did she do?”

“She tried to recreate one of your photo poses and almost knocked over the table,” you can hear your own loud laughter in the background.

“I’m coming right now,” he answers. “Please keep an eye on her until I get there.”

—

When he arrives, they tell him you’re outside because you insisted on “getting some air.” He finds you sitting on the curb, knees pulled up, your friends on either side of you, and you staring at the sky like a deep philosopher.

“There he is, the hot boyfriend” your friend announces.

You snap your head up.

“Hyunjin?” you blink.

He walks over, hands in his pockets, that soft smile on his face.

“What are you doing looking at the stars all alone?” he asks.

“I’m not alone…” you say, placing a hand on your chest. “I’m with you… in here.”

Your friends let out a collective “awwww.” Hyunjin covers his face with one hand, embarrassed and delighted at the same time.

“That’s very K‑drama, even for me” he laughs. “Come on, my little star, it’s late.”

He helps you up, hands on your waist. You feel how steady he is and cling to him.

“You’re so tall…” you mumble. “You never fall.”

“That’s my job, making sure you don’t fall” he says, guiding you gently.

On the way to the company car he called, you stop for a moment, tugging on his sleeve.

“Hyunjin.”

“Hmm?”

“I was dancing in the bathroom…” you confess, deadly serious. “And I thought, ‘I wish you were here so we could do a pretty choreooo’.”

He chuckles quietly, ducking his head.

“Good thing I wasn’t, or you’d be on the floor by now.”

In the car, you sit pressed against the window, watching the city lights go by.

“Everything looks so beautiful…” you whisper. “But you’re prettier.”

Hyunjin glances at you from the side, fighting a smile. He slides an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against his chest.

“You know you won’t remember any of this tomorrow, right?” he says, gently rubbing your arm.

“Doesn’t matter…” you close your eyes. “You remember it for me.”

“Trust me, I’m not forgetting this” he murmurs, resting his chin on your head.

Back at the dorm, he helps you take off your shoes at the entrance and leads you to his room. He sits you on the bed and kneels a bit to look at you properly.

“Stay right here, I’ll get water and something so you don’t die tomorrow.”

When he comes back, you’re half leaning to the side, staring at one of his paintings propped against the wall.

“You painted that?” you ask, pointing like you’ve just discovered it.

“Yeah” he smiles.

“It’s beautiful…” you murmur. “But you’re my favourite work of art.”

Hyunjin completely short‑circuits for a second.

“Okay, stop, my heart can’t handle this” he laughs, handing you the glass. “Drink, drunk poet.”

You finally lie down, him next to you. You trail your fingers along his jawline.

“When you’re on stage… I think you belong to everyone…” you confess, alcohol loosening your tongue. “But then I remember that here… you’re only mine.”

He swallows hard, hugging you tighter.

“Only yours” he answers quietly, almost like a vow. “Sleep, my favourite drama.”

HAN

It’s 2:03 a.m. and Han is on the dorm bunk bed, headphones on, editing something on his laptop, when his phone suddenly starts going crazy.

When he unlocks it, he finds:

“Janiii” “Janiiijjjjj” “janinjjjjj” “i lov u” “ily” “ilyyyy” “i lov u more thn fries” “frise” “fries*” “THAT”

And then, a picture of you with the flash straight in your face, eyes half‑closed, making a very crooked heart with your hands.

“You’ve got to be kidding me” he covers his mouth, laughing.

Jeongin peeks from the other bed.

“What happened?”

“My girlfriend…” Jisung shows him the pictures, cracking up. “She’s fighting autocorrect.”

Another message:

“i like u alot” “a lottt” “A LOOOOT”

And then an incoming call. Jisung answers, already smiling.

“Hey, babe?”

“Haaaan…” your voice comes out all dragged, music loud in the background. “I like you… so much…” you declare without even saying hello. “SO much… like when your part comes on in a song and I’m like ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”

Han’s heart actually skips.

“Where are you, my number‑one fan?” he asks fondly. “Let me come get you.”

“I’m at a place…” you start, and someone in the background says, “Give me the phone, I’ll tell him.” One of your friends takes over.

“Hey, I’m her friend, we’re at this bar. She’s fine, just very drunk and very in love with you.”

Jisung laughs, a little shy.

“I’ll be right there. Please don’t let her start rapping.”

When he gets there, you’re hard to miss: you’re in the middle of the group, waving your hands like you’re mid‑rap.

“And my boyfrieeend… is the best raperrr in the woooorld…” you’re half‑singing over a track that has nothing to do with it.

The second you see him, your face lights up.

“My favourite artist!” you scream and run into his arms, wrapping yourself around his neck.

“Ow, my back” he laughs, spinning a little with you in his arms. “Hi to you too.”

Your friends say their goodbyes between laughs, thanking Han for coming to the rescue. You step outside, and the cool air sobers you up just a bit.

“Jisung…” you grab his hand with both of yours. “Do you know you’re a genius?”

“No” he jokes. “Remind me.”

“You’re a genius… and really handsome… and funny…” you start listing. “And when you write stuff, I’m like ‘wow, how did that come out of his head? My head just has potatoes.’”

He laughs so hard he doubles over.

“You’re killing me. Potato brain, huh?”

In the taxi, you cuddle into his shoulder.

“Don’t fall asleep yet” he tells you. “You have to drink water when we get back.”

“I don’t want water” you whine, childlike.

“Do you want to see me tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Then water.”

You huff, but agree.

Back at the dorm, he sits on the bed with you.

“I want to keep this” he says, holding up your flash‑in‑the‑face photo. “It’s my new wallpaper.”

“Noooo…” you try to grab the phone. “So embarrassing.”

“It’s my limited‑edition drunk‑girlfriend pic” he says, kissing your cheek. “Just for me.”

He tucks you under the blanket and lies down next to you.

“Han…” you whisper. “Don’t make sad songs about this.”

“Why would I make sad songs?” he asks, amused.

“Because tomorrow I’m gonna die of embarrassment… and that’s sad.”

“I’ll make a funny song then” he decides. “It’ll be called ‘My Drunk Girlfriend Freestyle.’”

“It’s gonna be… a hit” you mutter, closing your eyes.

“Just like you in my life” he thinks, but doesn’t say out loud.

FELIX

Felix is at the dorm playing a game with Seungmin when his phone rings. It’s your friend.

“Lix, I’m so sorry” she says, laughing. “She’s fine, just reaaally affectionate and she won’t stop hugging a lamppost. We think you should come.”

You can be heard in the background: “Lamppost, you’re a good friend, don’t fall.”

Felix almost drops his phone from laughing.

“I’m on my way, thanks for calling” he says.

When he arrives, he spots you from far away. You’re at the entrance of the venue, literally hugging a lamppost, cheek pressed against the cold metal.

“Don’t worry…” you’re telling the lamppost. “I’ll hold you, even if life is hard.”

“Babe…” Felix’s deep voice reaches you. “Are you gonna dump the lamppost for me?”

You turn around very slowly, like in slow‑motion. When you see him, your eyes go huge.

“Lixie!” You let go of the lamppost and run to hug him.

You squeeze him so hard he almost loses his balance.

“Wow, critical hit hug” he jokes. “My cookie is super strong tonight.”

“I love you so much,” you say without letting go. “If you were a cookie, you’d be my favourite.”

He blushes instantly.

“What if I’m a brownie?” he asks, playing along.

“That too…” you nod very seriously. “You’re all the sweet things.”

Felix laughs, that deep laugh you adore.

“Okay, let’s go home before the lamppost gets jealous.”

He slides an arm around your shoulders and says goodbye to your friends, who thank him for coming.

On the way to the car, you look at him in profile, eyes shining.

“Lix…” you whisper. “When you talk, it tickles my heart.”

“That’s the alcohol talking, love” he says, trying not to melt.

“No. That’s you” you insist, totally sure.

In the car, you stare at his hands on the wheel.

“You have pretty hands…” you murmur. “They look like a prince’s.”

“Like a prince?” he laughs. “Why?”

“Because they look soft… and strong… and they make cookies.”

Felix almost hits the wrong pedal from laughing.

“That’s the weirdest and cutest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

At home, he helps you in, takes off your shoes and brings you a glass of water.

“Drink a little, please” he says, holding it to your lips.

You look at him dramatically.

“If I drink water, I’ll sober up… and I’ll stop being brave… and I won’t be able to tell you I love you this much.”

He goes quiet for a moment, a small smile on his lips.

“You can tell me tomorrow too” he says calmly. “And the day after. And always.”

“…I love you” you mumble, finally taking a sip.

He lays you down on the bed and stretches out beside you. You automatically curl up against his chest.

“I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow” you mumble. “Pancakes… and kisses.”

Felix files that away as tomorrow’s top‑priority mission.

“Deal” he whispers, kissing your hair. “Pancakes, kisses and a whole litre of water, okay?”

“Deal…” you answer, already sinking into sleep.

He stays awake a little longer, watching you sleep, with a soft smile no one else gets to see.

SEUNGMIN

When you said, “Just for a bit, one drink and I’ll come back,” Seungmin raised an eyebrow. He didn’t say anything, but he left his phone on maximum volume.

At 1:40 a.m., an unknown number pops up.

“Hello?”

“Seungmin, hi, I’m a friend of ___,” a voice says. “Sorry to call, but she’s fine, just drunk. And very intense about you. She won’t stop saying your name and analysing life, so we thought you might want to come get her.”

Seungmin runs a hand down his face, but he’s smiling.

“I’m on my way” he replies. “Thanks for letting me know.”

When he arrives, he sees you at a table, elbow propped up, chin resting in your hand, staring into your glass like it’s the void.

“Good evening” he says, appearing by your side.

You lift your gaze very slowly.

“Seungmin…” your face lights up. “Look! That’s my boyfriend!”

“So I’ve heard” he answers, amused. “What are you doing, fighting with your glass?”

“I’m… analysing myself…” you say solemnly.

“Yourself or the glass?” he asks, sitting down beside you.

“My life” you answer, very serious. “And I’ve decided that I love you a lot.”

Your friends cover their mouths to keep from laughing. Seungmin smiles, slightly embarrassed.

“That sounds like a very 2 a.m. deep confession” he comments. “Come on, philosopher, let’s get you home.”

You try to stand up. He offers his hand, but you shoot up too fast and the room spins. Seungmin catches your shoulders immediately.

“Slow down, we’re not rehearsing a dramatic fall” he jokes.

Outside, the fresh air hits you and your eyes get a little watery for no clear reason.

“Do you still love me even when I’m drunk?” you ask in a tiny voice.

He stops, gently turns you so you’re facing him.

“I love you more when you’re sober because you don’t trip this much” he says, serious but with a glint in his eyes. “But like this you’re funny too.”

“Funny?” you pout. “So I’m just a clown to you?”

He can’t help it; he laughs.

“You’re my favourite clown” he says, giving your forehead a quick kiss. “Now let’s go before you start crying over some dog on the street.”

You don’t even make it five minutes before you spot a dog. You freeze.

“Look at hiiim…” you whisper, voice cracking. “He’s so small… and cute… and perfect…”

Seungmin shakes his head slowly.

“Don’t cry over the dog, the dog is happy” he assures you. “Cry over your hangover tomorrow instead, if you want.”

In the taxi, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry…” you mumble. “You could be sleeping and instead you’re coming to get me…”

He shrugs.

“It’s not that bad. You owe me dinner, though.”

“I’ll buy you… noodles” you offer solemnly. “And… kisses… if you want.”

Seungmin blinks, laughing awkwardly.

“Deal” he says.

At home, he hands you water, leaves painkillers ready, helps you change and flop into bed. When he sees you about to drift off, he sits for a minute on the edge.

“Seungmin…” you whisper.

“What?”

“If I don’t remember this tomorrow… remind me that I told you I love you.”

He looks at you for a few seconds, more serious now.

“I’ll remind you” he says at last, quietly. “Always.”

He kisses your temple.

“I love you, even drunk” he adds. “But let’s not make this a habit, yeah?”

I.N

“Just one glass of wine with the girls” you said. But the glasses of wine decided to multiply. And you did zero math.

When you come in, making more noise than usual, Jeongin is in the living room, laptop on the coffee table, a half‑finished bowl of snacks next to it.

He shuts the screen and watches you from the doorway.

“I’m hoooome” you announce, almost singing.

He looks you over from head to toe.

“…You’re drunk” he declares immediately.

“Nooo, just… the floor is moving a little” you answer, kicking off your shoes and almost losing your balance.

Jeongin stands up quickly and grabs you by the forearms.

“Come here” he says, gently pulling you closer.

You take a few wobbly steps and, once you’re close enough, you wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek to his chest.

“My little boyfriend…” you mumble.

He frowns, faking offense.

“Hey. I’m not that little anymore.”

You lift your head, look at him very seriously.

“My big boyfriend, then…” you correct yourself. “My very handsome boyfriend.”

His face softens instantly.

“That’s better” he grins, running a hand up and down your back.

He sits you down on the couch and settles beside you. You grab one of his snacks without asking and pop it into your mouth.

“You know…?” you say, still chewing. “I feel really lucky.”

“Oh yeah?” Jeongin leans back, curious. “Why?”

“Because out of all the guys in the world…” you draw the sentence out dramatically, staring at the ceiling. “I got you. And you’re the prettiest.”

Jeongin goes quiet, a half‑smile he can’t hide spreading over his face. He eyes you with those dark eyes that shine even brighter now.

“I don’t know if you’re really cheesy or really drunk” he finally says. “But I like it.”

He hands you a glass of water.

“Drink, come on” he says. “I don’t want you to hate me tomorrow.”

“I could never hate you…” you reply. “I might hate wine, though.”

“That I believe” he laughs.

You jump up, pointing at him.

“Hey!” you protest. “I defended your honour tonight.”

“My what?” he asks, amused.

“Some girl said you were ‘too handsome to be real,’ and I was like, ‘He’s very real, because I hug him, okay?’” you explain, gesturing wildly.

Jeongin stares for a few seconds, then bursts into laughter.

“You actually said that?”

“Yes” you nod proudly. “With these hands…” You raise your hands. “That hug you.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from getting too big.

“Come here, you weirdo” he says, opening his arms.

You lie down with your head on his thighs, claiming him as your pillow. He slips a cushion under your head and tucks a blanket around you.

He starts stroking your hair slowly.

“Jeongin…” you mumble, almost asleep now.

“What?”

“Don’t grow up any more… ‘cause then… you’ll be too far away.”

He laughs softly.

“I’m always gonna be right here, dummy” he replies. “Go to sleep.”

You nuzzle against his leg like a cat.

He keeps petting your hair, watching your breathing even out, and somewhere between one stroke and the next, he thinks: “I really hope she doesn’t stop with the ‘too handsome to be real’ thing.”

But he’ll tell you that another day—when you’re not drunk.

@little-mix-fan-forever @emeraldgem22