#leeminho

Just imagine riding Hyunjin while he lays back like this not doing anything, watching you pathetically ride him and whisper filth like “aren’t you a filthy little slut bouncing on my cock like you were made for it” usually after you were being a brat for him to fuck you.

or

word count: 1k

warnings: none that I can think of- a bit of language maybe!

authors note: love baby lino man- bias wrecker for a reason. I hear this song and immediately it made me think of him- the quiet love I think he'd give- hope you enjoy!

.・゜゜・　. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄　・゜゜・．

Minho isn’t a loud lover. He isn’t one to shout on top of the roof, our from out of his balcony that he is in love with her. He thinks things like that, and the people who do them aren’t really in love with their partner, because if they were, why did they have to tell the whole world? Why isn’t their partner knowing how much they’re loved enough? It was something he could talk forever about.

Despite the fact that he wasn’t a loud lover, he was a deeply compassionate one. When he loves, he loves with his whole body, mind, and soul. Whether that be platonic, or in her case, romantic.

He loved simply but deeply, and at first a bit hesitantly. He doesn’t say the words “I love you”, but he will make for damn sure that she knows he does. He loves by remembering her favorite drink (matcha with cinnamon and honey), her favorite song (No Complaints by Noah Kahan), her favorite artist (Lizzy McAlpine and Noah Kahan she always said she couldn’t pick between the two), her favorite color (pink most of the time but it depends on how she’s feeling), which one of his hoodies is her favorite (anything he’s been wearing for an extended period of time, which made no sense to him until she explained it “They smell the most like you, especially the ones you wear to work”), her favorite scent (sandalwood).

He could tell someone everything about her, paint them a very vivid picture of the person she is, not with just looks, but with her personality, her kindness, her compassion, her tenderness, he could write a book about her, about everything he makes her feel. The love that threatens to bring him to his knees when he sees her after a long day at work (or any day at any time- but the feeling hits especially hard after work), the shock that he still feels even after two years of being together that she chose him, that she keeps choosing him, even after she has seen all the ugliest parts of him. “We don’t abandon the people we love just because they can be a bit horrendous sometimes, if everyone did that, no one would ever stay together. That’s why love is such a strong thing Min, we see that ugliness and chose to stay despite it, because that is not who the person is at a whole. No one is perfect, therefor everyone has a little bit of ugliness in them.” Though if asked out right she would never say there was anything wrong about him.

“If there was a part of you that I truly thought was ugly, Min hon, I wouldn’t be here, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You have to think about that when you get into a relationship of any kind- is this part of the person something you can live with? Is it something that will affect your relationship with this person on a deeper level than just annoyance. If the answer is yes, then you fight for them, and love them. Love isn’t one dimensional, it’s multifaceted. There’s a little bit of annoyance that goes with it, a little bit of sadness, of anger, but love trumps all of those. That’s why its called love.”

It shocks him at times, his girl that primarily reads about dragons and romance and things he sees as silly is very emotionally intelligent. That’s apart of why he thinks they’re so good together, he sometimes struggles with emotions, not just his own but others as well, but she gives him guidance, helps him see things he cannot at times, either because he is blinded by his own emotions, or because he thinks the other person is being ridiculous, but she gives him a fresh pair of eyes, helps him see things not form a logical stand point, but an emotional one.

It has saved him from turning a small argument with one of the boys into something much bigger. At times he stops himself an thinks what would she do right now? If she were in this situation how would she move forward? and he thinks. He doesn’t rush into a decision, and instead sits with his thoughts, sorting them and curating a response to the situation that is both him and her, and goes on accordingly. Sometimes if that doesn’t work and he is really stuck he’ll call her or wait till he can see her in person, and they’d just talk. For hours about it.

That was one thing he loved about her, and about the two of them. They talked, about anything and everything. Ninety-nine percent of the time he was so focused on controlling what he was saying, with cameras and the peoples eyes always on him, he’s found himself filtering out his words a lot but he never has to with her. He can tell her every thought he’s ever had, every dream, every nightmare, and she will listen, and respond back. No finger pointing, no gasps of outrage, just quiet understanding.

He loved the quiet moments more than anything. When the silence wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable, it was filled with love.

So when it was late at night, the window slightly cracked open, a gentle breeze making the blinds sway and occasionally hit the window sill, and he was still awake, staring down at her, that feeling of overwhelming love hitting him straight in the chest. She was asleep, he could see her eyes going back and forth and up and down behind her eye lids. Her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling as she breathed. She was curled into his side, her hands put together as if in a prayer and tucked under her cheek, childlike almost. He lifted his hand, pushing back her hair from her shoulder softly so he wouldn’t risk waking her. “I’ll always look after you,” He whispered softly, leaning forward, placing his lips against her forehead. Her body curled into his, her lips closing and pulling into a small smile.

He felt himself smile in response, and shifted closer to her, letting his eyes shut. He let sleep over take him, his dreams full of nothing but her.

He loved quiet.

He loved their quiet.

But most of all he loved her.

.・゜゜・　. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄　・゜゜・．

Always making sure you’ve eaten before your meetings or rehearsals, sometimes sneakily bringing you snacks.

Talks through problems out loud, and expects you to listen patiently even when he’s just thinking.

Gets extra protective when you’re stressed, offering long hugs and warm tea without saying much.

Shares random playlists he’s made to match your mood, whether you’re happy or sad.

Sometimes texts you a countdown to the next time you’ll see each other, just to hype you up.

Insists on late-night video calls when he’s on tour, even if it means losing sleep.

Surprises you with handwritten notes tucked into your belongings to find later.

“Hey, it’s 2 a.m. here,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “I know,” Chan said, smiling wide through the screen. “But I couldn’t sleep without saying goodnight. Plus, I want to see your face before I crash.” You chuckled. “You’re such a softie.” “Only for you.”

hi hii! here are some of my favorite minsung fics from ao3, i wanted to keep them as a list + share them with you <3 since you can see the tags by clicking the links i won’t categorize them deeply here!

the blue ones are honorable mentions since they are my all time favorites, links are under the cut!

보컬라차 SeungIn

Summary: It’s not just about bodies. It’s about trust. Firsts. And the kind of closeness that changes everything.

Content Warnings (18+): Explicit sexual content (anal penetration), first-time same-sex experiences, anal play (preparation and penetration), fingering (including preparation and stimulation), power dynamics (dominance and submission), teasing and control, light pain elements (stretching, intensity), emotional vulnerability during intimacy, exploration of sexuality, multiple partners within the same space, voyeuristic elements (observing/listening without direct participation), aftercare, emotional bonding, and strong focus on trust, first-time experiences, and intimacy within a close-knit group dynamic.

Word Count: ~5k

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A/N: Hey so I forgot this series was a thing lol...I am also cross posting To The Bone on AO3 (hence, why the updates are slow). I will start updating To The Bone here whenever it catches up on AO3. Taglist and Requests are open by the way. Enjoy! And..........REBLOG!

That night, after a campfire singalong devolved into Jisung beatboxing over Seungmin's acoustic guitar while Hyunjin made up interpretive dance routines in the dark, you all collapsed in one giant pile of limbs in the living room.

No schedules. No script. No lights. Just people.

"We should do this more often," you murmured.

Minho yawned. "Promise we will."

And someone; maybe Chan, maybe you, whispered the quiet truth:

"This is what forever feels like."

After a long night of laughter, lakeside lounging, and getting charcoal on everyone's faces while trying to light the grill, the night began to get too dark and low, casting white streaks across the cabin floor. Inside, the living room looked like a warzone of blankets, snack wrappers, and shoes kicked off in all directions.

Felix was curled up under three different throws, Chan was attempting (and failing) to organize the snack table, and Jisung was whispering something to Minho that made the older boy roll his eyes and swat him with a rolled-up paper towel.

Someone had the idea to divvy up sleeping arrangements.

"Okay, three per room," Chan called out. "We can rotate tomorrow if people hate their roommates."

"Or if someone snores like a dying engine," Seungmin added.

Jisung smirked. "Minho and I share. We’ve done worse."

You snorted. "Yeah, like each other."

Minho just smirked smugly and patted Jisung’s thigh. "What can I say? He’s persistent."

"They’re DEFINITELY getting married," you muttered, walking past to grab a hoodie.

Hyunjin grinned from the couch. "You say that like we don’t all fuck."

You blinked. "Wait, all of you?"

"Not all," Jeongin chimed in from the floor. "Some aren’t that open to it. But most of us... yeah."

Jisung, suddenly interested in the ceiling, hid his face behind a pillow.

Eventually, everyone started calling dibs.

"I’m with Minho and Jisung," Chan announced, earning an immediate groan from Jisung. "You’ll survive."

"Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin ?" Seungmin offered.

"Guess that leaves me, Jeongin, and you," he added, pointing at you.

"Perfect," you said, grabbing your bag. "As long as I’m not stuck with Chan’s 3 a.m. alarm and workout playlist."

The boys groaned in collective agreement.

~

You wandered into your assigned room to find both Jeongin and Seungmin already unpacking. It was a cozy space, low lighting from a side lamp, and one big bed. A couch lined the far wall but clearly wasn’t made for sleeping.

The vibe had shifted. Something quieter. Thick.

"You guys okay?" you asked.

Jeongin looked up. Seungmin paused halfway through pulling on a hoodie.

"So," Jeongin began. "Seungmin wants to try something."

Your brow rose. "What kind of something?"

Seungmin exhaled slowly. "Sleeping with a guy. With Jeongin."

Your eyebrows shot up, but you kept your tone casual. "Okay... and?"

"Neither of us has done that before," Jeongin added, voice quieter. "With a guy, I mean. We’ve both been with girls, but... we’ve talked, and... we trust each other."

You smiled gently. "So what’s the problem?"

"It’s a first," Seungmin said. "And we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable."

You waved a hand. "Please. Don’t mind me. If anything, I’ll sleep like the dead. You do your thing." But they both knew you were gonna watch, as if it’s a kids cartoon show.

There was a beat of silence. Then Jeongin grinned. "You’re the best."

You flopped on the edge of the bed. "Obviously. Now figure out your positions…sleeping positions, and don’t steal the covers."

They laughed, the tension breaking. Outside, someone started playing music again, soft acoustic strumming echoing through the walls.

Inside your little room, the night was just beginning. The room settles into a hush after the laughter fades. The kind of quiet that makes the walls feel closer, the air heavier. The soft strum of guitar still floats faintly through the cabin, muffled by distance and wood, but it doesn’t reach the center of this space.

Here, it’s just the three of you.

Jeongin stands near the bed, chewing the inside of his cheek. Seungmin sits, legs crossed on the comforter, hoodie bunched up at his elbows, fingers twitching against the hem like he can’t decide what to do with them.

You stay still. Quiet. You meant what you said. This was their moment, and you weren’t about to ruin it.

Jeongin breaks the silence first. "Okay… so, I guess we just…start?"

Seungmin huffs a small laugh. “Not a science experiment, Innie.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Jeongin mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t wanna mess it up.”

"You won’t," Seungmin says softly. And that…that’s what makes Jeongin finally move.

He steps closer. Crawls onto the bed with slow, deliberate ease, careful like he’s handling something fragile. Like he’s not sure where to put his knees or how close he’s allowed to get. You watch from your side of the mattress, head half-buried in the pillow, pretending to scroll on your phone, even though your screen’s been black for five minutes.

Then Jeongin reaches out, and Seungmin lets him.

Fingers trace over Seungmin’s cheekbone, hesitant at first, until Seungmin leans into it, presses into it, and tilts his face just enough to close his eyes. The way someone might when they’re memorizing a sound. Or bracing for it.

Their mouths don’t meet at first. It’s slower than that.

Foreheads rest together. Noses brush. Their breathing syncs- shallow, but steady. And then, with the faintest catch of breath, Jeongin presses in.

It’s soft. Careful. Their lips part like a secret being shared.

Seungmin’s hand curls into Jeongin’s shirt, right at the hem. Not pulling. Just anchoring. You can hear it. The shift of fabric, the press of knees on the mattress, the exhale that sounds too much like a whimper but gets swallowed in the space between them.

They break. Barely.

Jeongin’s eyes flutter open. He looks drunk on something far stronger than wine.

"You good?" he whispers.

Seungmin nods. Swallows. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin breathes. “Can I… try again?”

And this time, when he kisses him, it’s deeper. Less hesitant. His hand slides to Seungmin’s waist, palm pressing gently, and Seungmin responds, one leg shifting to part just slightly, inviting the touch. Encouraging it.

Their bodies start to fall into it, into rhythm. Familiarity. Lips parting. Breath exchanged. Hands tugging at fabric like they’re trying to learn it blindfolded.

Seungmin’s hoodie slides halfway up, revealing the smooth skin of his stomach, the line of muscle beneath his ribs. Jeongin’s mouth dips to press there, just one kiss, reverent and shaky, and Seungmin arches, his breath catching audibly.

You bite your lip and turn over slowly, back facing them now. Just enough to give them privacy. Not enough to miss a thing.

“You’re shaking,” Jeongin murmurs.

“Excited,” Seungmin admits. “Nervous. It’s both.”

“You’re doing great,” Jeongin says. And he means it. His voice is honeyed with awe. Like he’s witnessing something sacred.

His hand trails lower, fingers brushing along Seungmin’s waistband, a featherlight touch that makes Seungmin gasp through his teeth.

There’s a pause.

Then Seungmin nods. One word, small and sure: “Yes.”

Jeongin answers with a kiss to his collarbone, fingers inching under fabric now. And you can’t help it. You shift again, slowly, sinking deeper into your blanket. Not to watch, not really. Just to feel the moment unfold through the air, thick with heat and care and something achingly new.

Their breathing deepens. A hand slips beneath cotton, a low hum escapes. Your cheeks burn even as you stare at the darkness inside your hood.

And still, no one speaks too loud. The moment doesn’t need volume.

It just needs breath. Touch. Trust.

And they're giving each other all of it.

The air in the room hums with something electric.

Jeongin’s hoodie is half-off, tangled around his elbows, his chest rising and falling like he’s sprinted up a hill with no end in sight. Seungmin is straddling him now, knees pressed firmly on either side of Jeongin’s thighs, hoodie abandoned somewhere near the edge of the bed, jaw taut, eyes burning.

You can’t see everything, but you can feel it.

Every rustle of the sheets, every low gasp, every subtle hitch of the mattress beneath their shifting weight.

“Okay?” Seungmin asks quietly, leaning in close enough that his breath lands right against Jeongin’s lips.

Jeongin nods quickly, voice caught somewhere in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, don’t stop.”

Seungmin’s mouth curves in the barest hint of a smirk. That min-smirk. Calculated. Confident. Teasing. His hands slide up Jeongin’s chest, fingers spreading wide, dragging lightly across skin like he’s memorizing it with every pass.

You hear Jeongin’s breath shudder. “Fuck, you’re…Seungmin-”

“Say it,” Seungmin whispers, leaning down now, mouth at Jeongin’s neck. “You can’t stutter your way through this, Innie. Not with me on top.”

And then he bites, not hard, just enough to make Jeongin’s hips jerk upward, desperate and uncontrollable.

A sharp gasp breaks the room.

Your heart lurches, pounding with secondhand tension. You can’t help the heat crawling up your spine. You told them you wouldn’t watch. And you aren’t. Not really. But you can hear every shift, every breath, every moan, and the sounds alone are enough to burn your thoughts down to ash.

Seungmin starts to move.

Not fast. Slow grinds, hips rolling downward, pressing into Jeongin with calculated pressure. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like he planned it. Like he’s studied Jeongin’s body without ever needing to touch it before.

And Jeongin is unraveling.

His fingers dig into Seungmin’s back, blunt nails dragging down muscle, and his voice spills out in fragments.

“Please, faster…I need-”

But Seungmin just laughs, low and hot against his jaw. “You’ll get what I give you.”

He rocks again. Down. Deep. Purposeful. The air fills with friction and sweat and soft gasps swallowed into skin. Your mouth is dry. Your palms clammy where they rest under your cheek, your body curled into itself, torn between staying silent and begging to be somewhere else, or maybe nowhere at all, because what are they doing to each other?

Jeongin chokes out a sound. Desperate. Filthy. Needy.

“I c-can’t!”

Seungmin cuts him off with a kiss. Bruising. Open-mouthed. Dominant. He devours Jeongin’s breath like it’s the only air in the room, fingers sliding lower, pushing fabric down, down, until you hear skin meet skin.

That’s when Jeongin really breaks.

A moan spills out, muffled, maybe bitten back by Seungmin’s mouth, but it still finds you. Hits deep. Your stomach knots. Your fingers curl tighter under the blanket.

Seungmin doesn’t let up.

He keeps moving. Keeps grinding, hips flush against Jeongin’s, chasing friction, riding a rhythm only they know. You hear the bed creak beneath them; soft, rhythmic, matched by the occasional gasp, the whimper that escapes when a kiss lands too low or a thrust grinds just right.

And then… silence.

The kind that’s ragged, heavy, breathless.

The kind that only comes when two people are shaking, sweating, and dizzy from something they can’t name yet.

Then a quiet sound, the soft thump of Seungmin collapsing beside him, and a low, shaky laugh from Jeongin.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

Seungmin just groans and mutters, “You’re loud.”

“You’re evil,” Jeongin says, voice still wrecked. “Incredible, but evil.”

You stay quiet. Barely breathing. Trying to be invisible. Trying not to let the flush on your cheeks give away the fact that you’re trembling too.

The room is thick with heat and silence.

Their bodies lie tangled in the aftermath of the first rush. Limbs draped, breath coming in shallow pulses, hearts still racing. The sound of someone’s shirt hitting the floor echoes like thunder in the quiet. You don’t move.

You barely breathe.

You’re curled toward the wall now, blanket drawn up to your ears, but you feel every rustle behind you. Every shift of weight. Every sigh that’s just a little too breathy to be casual.

“Still okay?” Seungmin’s voice is lower now…husky, tender. It slides along your spine like smoke.

Jeongin nods against the mattress. “Yeah. I… I wanna keep going.”

“You sure?”

“I trust you.”

A beat.

Then movement.

The unmistakable sound of lips reconnecting. Slower now. Hungrier. Not the fevered rush of before, but something deeper, more dangerous. The kind of kiss that unravels, not explodes.

Then you hear it: the shift of the blanket. The tug of elastic. The soft gasp Jeongin makes when Seungmin’s hand slides lower, under.

He freezes. “You okay?” Seungmin murmurs.

Jeongin nods quickly. “Cold hands.”

“Deal with it,” Seungmin mutters, teasing, but warm.

And then…silence again. Heavy. Focused. The kind that says something sacred is happening behind you and you should not be hearing it. But you do.

The sound is subtle, the slick, muted slide of Seungmin’s fingers finally pressing in, slow and careful. Not too far. Just enough to make Jeongin’s breath catch. You imagine it: Seungmin lying on his side, his hand slipping down between Jeongin’s thighs, body curled over his, mouth near his neck.

“Relax,” Seungmin whispers. “Don’t fight it.”

Jeongin lets out a choked sound. Not pain. Just overwhelm.

You bite your lip.

The mattress shifts with the rhythm, slow, methodical. You hear the soft sound of breath trembling out of Jeongin chest, then a whisper: “Shit, Minnie, feels…”

“I know,” Seungmin murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Another slick sound. The press of another finger. A long, slow exhale. The rhythm builds, not fast, but deeper, his fingers stretching Jeongin with gentle patience, curling just enough to draw a broken moan from his lips.

"More," Jeongin gasps.

"Not yet," Seungmin answers, voice pure control. “You’re not ready. You think you are, but you’ll hurt.”

Jeongin whimpers, hips twitching. “Then make me ready.”

And you swear, in that exact moment, your heart stops.

You’re not watching. But you can see it in your head. Seungmin’s fingers inside him, stroking slow and deliberate, watching every reaction with clinical focus and lover’s awe. Jeongin trembling, lips bitten raw, trying to stay still and failing. The air saturated with something heavy and slick and sacred.

Then comes the whisper… soft, and almost broken:

“Min… I want you.”

Silence.

Then Seungmin’s voice, barely audible. “I know.”

A kiss. A wet, open-mouthed kiss. The sound is unmistakable. Then the slide of fingers easing out, slow, careful, followed by the telltale rustle of Seungmin reaching for something in his bag. You hear the soft click of a cap.

Lube.

Your cheeks burn. Your body’s tense. And you’re still silent.

Just a few feet away from where Seungmin is getting ready to really take him.

The air in the room felt different now.

Warm. Heavy. Saturated with breath and skin and something raw between them.

Jeongin lay back against the pillow, chest rising fast, legs bent at the knees, thighs spread in quiet invitation. His cheeks were flushed, his lips kissed pink, and his eyes… God, his eyes were blown wide with need, trust, and the kind of nervous hunger only a first time could bring.

Seungmin hovered over him, one hand steady at Jeongin’s thigh, the other slick and trembling slightly as he stroked himself. His expression was focused, tense, not with hesitation, but with reverence. Like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“You good?” he asked softly, leaning in, forehead almost touching Jeongin’s.

Jeongin nodded. “Yeah. I want this. I want you.”

That was all Seungmin needed.

He lined himself up carefully, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth, grounding himself. Jeongin’s legs tightened briefly around his hips at the first press, and they both froze.

The stretch was sharp. New. But not unbearable.

Seungmin paused just at the edge, lips brushing Jeongin’s temple.

“Breathe. Don’t push back. Let me in slow.”

And he did.

The first inch made Jeongin whimper. A sound full of resistance and relief, aching with the paradox of pain that felt right. Seungmin kissed him through it, pressing another inch, and another, rocking barely forward until he bottomed out in one long, breathless slide.

Full. Deep. Still.

Jeongin’s hands gripped Seungmin’s biceps, trembling. “Fucking hell…”

“I know,” Seungmin whispered, voice tight, one hand smoothing down Jeongin’s thigh in steady strokes. “I know. You’re doing so good.”

They stayed like that for a long moment. Foreheads touching, breath shared, bodies locked together in perfect stillness.

Then Seungmin moved.

Not fast. Not hard.

He rolled his hips slowly, dragging out and pushing back in with measured control. The stretch remained, but the ache dulled into something else. Something sharper. Something good.

Jeongin moaned, head tilting back against the pillow. “Oh my God, Min!”

“That’s it,” Seungmin muttered, adjusting the angle, shifting Jeongin’s hips slightly higher. “Let me find it…”

He thrust again, slow and deep, and Jeongin cried out, the sound punched from his chest, raw and wrecked and helpless.

“There,” Jeongin gasped. “Right there, don’t stop-”

Seungmin didn’t.

He kept thrusting into that spot, over and over, hips rolling in a steady rhythm that was less about power and more about precision. He wanted Jeongin to feel it. Every inch. Every drag. Every intent behind the movement.

Sweat beaded at Seungmin’s temples. Jeongin’s hands clawed at the sheets, at Seungmin’s arms, at anything he could hold to keep himself from shattering.

It wasn’t fast.

It wasn’t rough.

But it was devastating.

Rhythmic creaks of the bed. Quiet moans swallowed into each other’s mouths. The wet sound of skin meeting skin, slick and smooth, filling the room in waves. Each thrust grew more desperate. Not messy, but urgent. Like they were chasing something neither could name but both needed.

Jeongin arched. Legs trembling. His voice broke.

“Seungmin, I’m close already…”

Seungmin kissed him, hard. “I know.”

His thrusts lost some rhythm then, pace stuttering, deeper, rougher now as he buried himself to the hilt and held there, grinding slow. Jeongin bucked beneath him, breath hitching once, twice…and then his whole body tensed.

He came with a cry, spilling between them, thighs shaking, mouth open in a soundless gasp as the pleasure ripped through him like a wave.

Seungmin kept moving. Just a little. Just enough.

It was the final clutch of Jeongin’s arms around him that sent him over the edge. One last thrust, one long groan pressed into Jeongin’s neck, and Seungmin came, hips locked tight, body collapsing over him like surrender.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Only breathing. Fast. Shaky. Wet with sweat and aftershock.

Their hands didn’t let go.

~

After a long pause, Seungmin shifted gently, pulling back just enough to ease the pressure, but staying close. He slid down the bed to rest beside Jeongin, letting their legs tangle together. Jeongin’s fingers found Seungmin’s face, tracing every line like a map.

But the moment wasn’t over.

Seungmin tugged Jeongin up onto his side, curling him close. Their bodies molded perfectly, the curve of Seungmin’s back fitting into Jeongin’s chest, hips still brushing, skin still slick and warm.

Then, with a slow, teasing smile, Seungmin rolled so he was pressed behind Jeongin, one arm sliding under to hold him close, the other hand tracing lazy patterns down Jeongin’s side. This spooning position was intimate in its own right, a quiet contrast to the raw intensity that came just moments before.

Jeongin sighed, breath warm against Seungmin’s neck.

“Still good?” Seungmin whispered.

“Better than I imagined,” Jeongin murmured, voice soft.

They stayed like that, bodies entwined, breaths slowing, the world shrinking to just the two of them and the fragile, beautiful space they’d just crossed together.

The heat between them was still thick, lingering like a flame refusing to die. Seungmin’s breath was ragged against Jeongin’s neck as he shifted beneath him, the cool air brushing over their slick skin.

Seungmin’s hands rested lightly on Jeongin’s hips, steadying him, offering silent encouragement.

“Your turn,” Seungmin breathed, voice low and rough, heavy with trust.

Jeongin blinked, startled. “What?”

Seungmin smiled, a slow, mischievous curve of lips that made Jeongin’s heart stutter. “I want you on top.”

Jeongin swallowed, cheeks flushing crimson. The idea felt bold, terrifying, thrilling all at once.

Seungmin reached out, steadying him by the waist. “We’ll guide each other. Take your time. I want this to be as good for you as it was for me.”

With a nervous laugh, Jeongin shifted, sliding up carefully, his fingers finding purchase on Seungmin’s chest. He eased down, settling over him, their eyes locking.

The bed creaked beneath them as Jeongin leaned forward, placing gentle kisses along Seungmin’s shoulder blade, his breath warm and soft against sweating skin.

Seungmin shifted, arching slightly, welcoming Jeongin’s presence behind him, the subtle invitation clear.

His hands slid down, trying to push the first finger past the rim, which met no resistance. Arching a brow at Seungmin, all Seungmin did was blush and whisper a small “I did that in the bathroom hoping you'll top me.”

Jeongin let out a tiny curse as his fingers brushed the small of Seungmin’s back before tracing slow, featherlight circles that sent shivers down both their spines.

He reached forward, hands slipping beneath Seungmin’s waist, gripping firmly but tenderly as he aligned himself. 

‘Wait, when did he lube himself up?’ You thought to yourself.

A sharp intake of breath from Seungmin marked the first press, the delicious tension of new angles and new depths.

Jeongin moved with deliberate slowness, letting the weight of their trust guide every inch.

Seungmin’s hands curled into the sheets, nails digging in as Jeongin’s hips pressed forward, then pulled back in a measured rhythm. 

Each motion was heavy with sensation. Muscle against muscle, skin sliding slickly, every nerve ignited. And with each movement, you felt yourself letting loose, not being able to focus on what was happening.

Jeongin leaned closer, lips brushing Seungmin’s neck in a soft, teasing kiss that sent a thrill racing down their spines.

Seungmin’s breath hitched, voice a low murmur: “God, Jeongin…”

Encouraged, Jeongin increased the pace, slow and steady, feeling every response, every shudder, every gasp.

Seungmin’s hips lifted slightly to meet Jeongin’s, deepening the connection with each measured thrust.

The room filled with soft sounds, whispers, moans, the rhythm of bodies in perfect sync.

Jeongin’s hands moved up to grip Seungmin’s shoulders, anchoring himself as he leaned into the movement, eyes locked on the curve of Seungmin’s neck and the way his muscles tensed beneath his touch.

“Fuck,” Seungmin gasped, fingers tangling in the sheets.

Jeongin smiled softly, a mix of awe and desire coloring his expression.

He slowed, savoring the moment, then rolled his hips with a deliberate flick, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through them both.

Seungmin’s back arched, a deep groan vibrating from his chest as he gripped the sheets tighter.

Jeongin whispered against his skin, voice thick with affection and need, “I’ve got you. Just relax.”

Seungmin nodded, breath uneven, completely surrendering.

Jeongin’s movements became more confident, fluid, each thrust slow and purposeful, a dance of control and care.

Their bodies moved as one, every touch and motion laced with the unspoken promise of safety and acceptance.

Minutes stretched, each second heavy with the weight of firsts and forever.

Seungmin’s hands found Jeongin’s sides, fingers tracing fire-hot trails as he urged him on.

Jeongin’s breath caught when Seungmin’s voice came, rough and pleading, “Jeongin… I’m close.”

A tender smile curled Jeongin’s lips. “Me too.”

With one last deep thrust, slow and sure, they tumbled together into release, gasps and cries mingling in the dim light as their bodies shook.

Jeongin collapsed forward, forehead resting on Seungmin’s back, chest rising and falling against warm skin.

Seungmin wrapped his arms around Jeongin’s waist, holding him tight, grounding them both.

For a long moment, there was only their breath and the quiet beating of their hearts, perfect, chaotic, beautiful.

The room had finally softened, the heat and tension of what had just passed lingering like a faint, warm glow rather than a burning fire. The air was heavy with quiet breaths and the faint scent of skin mingled with the soft cotton of blankets.

Seungmin lay back against the pillows, chest rising and falling in slow, steady waves. Jeongin curled tightly against his side, one arm draped protectively over Seungmin’s waist, his fingers tracing idle circles on the smooth skin beneath, as if memorizing every inch. Their bodies fit together perfectly, a seamless, natural puzzle.

Y/N lied quietly at the edge of the same bed, knees pulled to her chest beneath an oversized hoodie she had slipped on, pretending to be asleep though her eyes fluttered open, drinking in the intimate scene unfolding before her.

The subtle details captivated her: the delicate brush of Seungmin’s thumb along Jeongin’s hip bone, the soft, almost involuntary sighs that slipped from Jeongin’s lips when he relaxed completely into Seungmin’s warmth, the faint, sleepy smiles they shared in silent conversation. It was a quiet song of trust and affection that only she seemed to hear.

Jeongin shifted just slightly, pressing a feather-light kiss to Seungmin’s collarbone, and Seungmin responded with a deep, low hum, his fingers tightening momentarily in a tender grip before resuming their gentle caresses.

Y/N’s chest swelled with a quiet affection she hadn’t expected, an emotion deeper than anything she’d felt before. It wasn’t just the physical connection; it was the trust, the vulnerability, the raw tenderness they offered each other in every shared breath.

Her gaze flickered between them, noticing the silent language they spoke. Jeongin’s fingers intertwining with Seungmin’s, their bodies easing even closer, the way Seungmin’s entire frame softened at Jeongin’s touch.

Careful not to disturb their sacred bubble, Y/N stayed still, wrapped tight in her own warmth and the comfort of the moment.

Then, as if sensing her presence beside them, Seungmin shifted ever so slightly, turning his head to glance at her with eyes full of quiet affection. Without breaking their embrace, he reached out, his hand threading through Y/N’s hair, stroking it with the gentlest touch.

Leaning in slowly, Seungmin pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Y/N’s lips, tender and reassuring, a quiet promise whispered without words. The warmth of his mouth, the subtle brush of his breath, sent a ripple of warmth through her chest.

Y/N’s breath hitched softly, her hand instinctively curling around Seungmin’s waist as her fingers pressed lightly into the skin beneath his shirt.

Jeongin, shifting to make space, draped an arm over Y/N’s hip, pulling her even closer into the tangled warmth of their bodies.

The three of them sank deeper into the mattress, limbs entwining naturally, Seungmin’s leg brushing along Y/N’s thigh, Jeongin’s fingers tracing lazy, soothing patterns down her back, every movement slow and filled with gentle intent.

Y/N felt the rise and fall of their breathing in sync, the soft murmur of their voices slipping into a hush, the quiet creak of the bed beneath them.

Every touch, every shared breath, wove them tighter together, a fragile cocoon of safety and belonging.

In this moment, there was only this.

This fragile, perfect stillness.

This home.

♡

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Masterlist Series Masterlist

Summary; Bangchan was engaged to you, yet he couldn’t fulfil his promise to marry you.. Why? Because you died in the hands of a crazy stay after you guys revealed your relationship to his fans.

Type of oneshot; angst

back to masterlist. part two

I don’t wanna let you go… just yet.

Well I tried animation for once... Key word is "tried"