#poly!minsung

The hospital discharge was supposed to be the end of the line.

The contract stipulates a week of rest in the dedicated ward for new mothers, followed by a transfer to a corporate apartment for a month of recovery and transition. It is clean, efficient, and guarantees a swift, professional departure. But Minho and Jisung dismantle that plan with a quiet, efficient determination.

The day you are cleared to leave, you find Minho talking to the nurse manager while Jisung packs your single hospital bag. When you mention getting the address for the recovery apartment, Minho turns, his expression calm but absolute.

“We’re taking you home,” he says.

“But the agreement-”

“The agreement is for your health and comfort,” Minho interrupts smoothly. “And our house is more private, more comfortable, and already fully staffed. We can monitor you better there. The baby is only ever a few steps away.”

Jisung zips the bag, his movements surprisingly delicate. “You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he murmurs, not meeting your eyes. “You just had a baby. We’re not leaving you in some clinical building.”

“You’ll want to breastfeed, right?” Minho asks, after he organizes the rest. “It’ll make it easy.”

You know it is illogical. You know it violates the entire point of the transaction. But the thought of leaving the warmth of their care is unbearable. You don’t fight it. You follow them.

⋆｡°✩

Four months in, the lie is too heavy to lift.

You are supposed to be gone a month after the delivery, before really, for the initial recovery period. The guest room is supposed to revert to a guest room, your presence a fading memory, a warm story the boys will tell the baby someday. But the guest room doesn’t exist anymore. It is your room. Your clothes are folded neatly in the custom closet. Your favorite oversized mug, the one Han bought you after you complained about the tiny ceramic ones, is always the one Minho pours tea into. Your reality isn't a temporary contract, it is a deeply ingrained, comfortable routine.

You spend most of your nights in the master bedroom, the baby’s bassinet pulled right beside the king-sized bed, ostensibly for easier nighttime feeds. But you know it is for warmth. Minho always curls into your back, a silent, heavy anchor. Jisung usually drapes an arm or a leg across you, a soft, snoring weight that proves you are safe and wanted.

This shift is most obvious at 3 AM.

You sit on the edge of the bed, the electric breast pump whirring softly, the rhythmic tug of the flanges the soundscape of your new existence. Your shoulders ache, and your eyes feel gritty.

“She hungry?” Jisung murmurs, already sitting up.

“You don’t have to stay awake,” you whisper, feeling guilty.

“I know,” he says, not bothering to lower his voice beyond his usual sleep-mumble. He doesn’t try to help, but he leans over, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Okay, look. This STAY sends me a picture of his dog wearing a tiny, ridiculous hat. It looks like a sad biscuit.”

He holds the phone up, and you crack a genuine smile, the exhaustion receding slightly. Jisung is loud, distracting, and exactly what you need.

Minho grows at the sounds and rolls over. “Sleep when you’re done,” he murmurs, his touch intensely grounding. “I’ll take the first wake-up.”

⋆｡°✩

The baby achieves a monumental level of disaster. Jisung, ever the drama queen, volunteers to take the lead.

“Okay, darling,” he sings, holding the tiny legs. “Papa is the best diaper changer in the world. This is just like changing the sheets on my bed, except… messier.”

He starts off with focused enthusiasm, but a rogue foot kicks a fresh mess onto his favorite gray hoodie. Jisung emits a sound that is half-yell, half-whimper, pulling his hands back as if the diaper is rigged with explosives.

“Minho! Backup! This is like a Level Five Bio-Emergency!” He scrambles back, accidentally knocking over the tub of wipes. He looks utterly defeated, the energy draining from his face as he stares at the catastrophe. “I tried, I really tried. I’m just… I’m not built for high-pressure sanitation, hyung.”

Minho, who had been watching from the doorway, sighs, the sound is exaggerated, but his eyes are warm with exasperation and fondness. He moves with clinical calm, stepping over the fallen wipes.

“It’s a tiny person, Ji,” Minho mutters, taking his place. “Not a philosophical debate.” Minho manages the change flawlessly, his hands steady and precise, demonstrating the practiced efficiency you’ve come to rely on. “See, easy,” Minho says, snapping the fresh diaper closed. His face is triumphant. But then, he attempts the swaddle.

He tries the classic diamond fold. The baby’s arm pops out. He tries the straightjacket fold. The baby’s leg shoots free. Minho’s lips thin, and a rare, genuine crack shows in his calm. He grunts in frustration. “Why is this so difficult? I watched the tutorial three times.”

You chuckle, stepping in. “It’s physics, not choreography, Appa. You have to anchor the shoulder.”

You take over, effortlessly tucking the little arm and wrapping the blanket tight and secure. The baby, instantly comforted, stops wriggling. Minho stares at you, his eyes wide, then slowly softens into an expression of pure, unadulterated awe.

⋆｡°✩

You hum softly, a melody you learned from Jisung's demo reel years ago, as you snap the little teddy-bear footie pajamas around her wiggling legs.

“Such a good girl,” you coo, gently kissing the top of her head. “My little mischief maker.”

The baby, wide-eyed and content, reaches up and grabs a handful of your hair, pulling tight. You laugh, bending down to let her clutch the strands. The simple, messy intimacy of the moment, the soft chaos of dressing a 5-month-old, fills you with an overwhelming rush of love, the purest kind, completely untainted by the complex origins of this family.

You feel the change in the air before you see them. You know if you looked up you would find Minho and Jisung standing silently in the doorway, their shoulders brushing. They haven't made a sound.

Jisung is leaning against the frame, his energy completely subdued. His expression is soft, his gaze locked entirely on you and the baby, a faint, trembling smile on his face. It’s the look of someone watching a dream they never thought would come true.

Minho is less relaxed, his posture attentive and still, like a statue carved out of devotion. His eyes, however, are wet. He makes no attempt to wipe them away, allowing a single, quiet tear to trace a path down his cheek. He isn't looking at the baby's tiny face; he is watching the way your hands move, the way your body leans, the unstudied, effortless rhythm that has become the bedrock of their house.

They stand there for nearly a minute, silent, breathing in the scene. They are not waiting to be acknowledged; they are simply watching you belong.

⋆｡°✩

A week later, You’re in charge of introducing the baby to the slightest taste of puréed apples. The attempt is a messy, beautiful disaster. The baby gurgles happily, wearing more applesauce than she eats, her tiny fist grabbing at the spoon.

“She’s an artist!” Jisung declares, wiping a green smear off his own cheek. “A true abstract expressionist.”

You laugh, the sound warm and easy, but a sudden, sharp ache makes you pause. You shift in your seat, your bra instantly feeling tight and damp. You glance down, the right side of your shirt is already blooming with a faint, telltale circle. You forgot to pump.

“Hold her,” you say quickly, standing up. “I need a towel.”

You move toward the kitchen, but Minho is already standing in the doorway, quiet, observant. He doesn't look at the mess on the baby; he looks directly at the damp patch on your shirt. He knows immediately.

Jisung is too busy cooing at the baby to notice. “Wait, Appa, she’s almost done with her finger painting!”

Minho ignores him, his gaze never leaving yours. “Watch her, Ji.”

Jisung, mollified by being put on baby duty, settles in front of the high chair. Minho silently guides you out of the kitchen and into the nearest quiet room.

“Clogged?” he asks, his voice low.

“No, just full,” you whisper, embarrassed, pressing your arms across your chest. “I meant to pump an hour ago. I don’t want to hand-express… It takes forever.”

Minho studies you. His gaze is intense, analytical, but devoid of judgment. His focus is on the problem and the need for relief. He steps closer, reaching up to gently touch the curve of your breast over your shirt. You gasp, the contact sending a sharp jolt of sensation through you.

“The pump is loud,” he murmurs. “And slow.” His eyes drop to your lips, then back to your eyes, a question hanging heavy and intimate in the air. “I can help?”

You don’t say no. You can’t. The ache is relentless, and the offer of his focused, intense care, disguised as something so primal, is overwhelming. You nod once, unable to speak.

He pulls you deeper into the room, away from the light. He unbuttons your shirt and slips down your bra with practiced ease. He reaches out, not with hesitant fingers, but with his mouth, wrapping it firmly and entirely around your nipple and areola.

It is a primal gasp of relief that escapes you as he begins to pull. He is warm, firm, and deliberate, suckling slowly, his tongue working to draw out the pressure that has been building for hours. He swallows, with a quiet focused sound that makes your eyes fly open.

Minho is focused, his hands cradling your breast, his eyes closed in concentration. The rhythmic pull is exactly what you need, but the small, satisfied noises he makes feel undeniably intimate, a new level of physical knowledge that only he possesses.

He pulls away only when the pressure eases and the leaking subsides. A drop of milk escapes, tracing a path down your breast. Minho follows it instantly, lapping up the drip with a slow, deliberate movement of his tongue, ensuring not a single drop is wasted. He looks up at you, his mouth wet with your milk, his eyes dark and honest. He just looks at you like you are the most natural, necessary thing in the world.

He gently wipes your skin with the edge of his shirt and slowly rebuttons your blouse, his knuckles brushing your collarbone.

“Better?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Yes,” you breathe, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

“Good.” He presses a quiet, firm kiss to your forehead.  He opens the door and guides you back toward the kitchen, but Jisung is already marching toward you, his arms crossed over his chest, lips pushed out in an exaggerated frown.

“You guys took, like, forever!” Jisung huffs, but his eyes are searching, noticing the slight flush on your cheeks and the careful way Minho is standing close to you. “What was the big emergency that I couldn’t help with? I’m good at towels!”

Minho just rolls his eyes, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. 

Jisung looks between the two of you, his pout softening into something genuinely needy. He throws his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you tight. “It’s not fair! You guys had a secret moment of intense care and I missed it! I want to be the one who gets to, you know, help with the private things sometimes, too. I’m an Papa!”

Minho gently detaches Jisung and bumps his shoulder. “Maybe later. Go get the baby down for her nap. I’ll make coffee.”

Jisung sighs dramatically, but the genuine worry leaves his eyes. He gives you one last, quick squeeze. “Promise I get included next time there’s a secret mission of comfort?”

“Promise,” you murmur, heart full.

You stand there alone, your body tingling, your mind spinning. This accidental family you’ve built has blurred every line, replaced every clause, and created a new need you didn't know you had. You close your eyes, consciously choosing to melt into the warmth, letting the terrifying, beautiful fear of loss wash over you. The conversation about staying is inevitable. But right here, right now, curled between the two fathers of your baby, you know you are already home.

Being best friends with Jisung is like living in a sitcom every day of your life. Everything about him is comical and endearing and you love every bit of him and his huge personality. You’d been friends with him for so long that when he sat you down, worried look on his face, and told you he liked both boys and girls you raised an eyebrow at him, “am I supposed to act surprised?”

“You’re not?” His expression changed from worry to confusion.

“As if we’re not a pair of bisexual assholes.”

“Wait, you like girls too?!”

“How have you survived this long?” You stood from your seat and pressed a mockingly sweet kiss to the top of his head, pulling him into a hug.

Nothing in your friendship had changed other than things were a lot more open between you and Jisung. The two of you shared love interests and swapped between them like clothes back and forth, generally no relationship going past anything other than a second date and maybe taking them home. You both even went to testing centers together to make sure neither of you contracted any of the nasty. Definitely fun, reckless things kids in college did. That was, until Jisung met Minho in your senior year.

Minho was a few years older than you both, had a permanent job and lived on his own. He was his own person that somehow wiggled his way into your duo to become a trio. You weren’t mad at it, by any means, Minho was one of the most attractive, intriguing, successful men you’d ever seen. For that reason, you questioned why he wanted to be friends with Jisung, and even more, friends with you.

It became evident early on that he wasn’t leaving either of you alone any time soon and you became used to his presence, eventually coming to the point where you wanted to be around him just as much as you did Jisung. The three of you were the pinnacle of friend groups. So bound at the hip, none of you ever realized how strange it looked on the outside.

But Jisung and Minho started spending more time together, without you. Sure it sucked and yeah, you were hurt that they never bothered to invite you, but Minho was always Jisung’s friend before he was yours. You always just thought the three of you were a package deal, not accessories to be mixed and matched.

They made up for it in time after you expressed your feelings and were gracious not to make it a bigger deal than you wanted it to be. There weren’t even any tears shed… by Minho. You and Jisung, on the other hand, were absolute jokes of a mess, faces red, covered in tears and snot running down your noses, weeping into each other’s arms because you’re both the most dramatic people any of you know. When you pulled Minho into the hug, squishing Jisung between your bodies, he thought he might’ve shed a tear with how tightly you held him. But as the two of you fell apart, Minho wouldn’t bring himself to unravel out of sheer need to protect his only two constants. So he wrapped himself around you and Jisung, blanketing you both until your breaths and heartbeats returned to normal.

“C’mon Min, it’s just a little get together. You don’t even need to bring anything other than your pretty, pretty face,” you smiled up at the brunette who was flowing about the kitchen while you sat on the counter.

“You’re in my way,” he murmured and reached around your body to grab whatever he needed.

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Not avoiding. Just ignoring.” 

“Rude.”

Just as you spoke, the sound of the front door rang through the apartment, “who’s rude?” Jisung sounded. He kicked his shoes off and joined you and Minho, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

“Your boyfriend. He doesn’t wanna go to Changbin’s party tomorrow.” Neither of the two reacted at the labeled nickname. They were used to you making jokes, even turning it around and saying they were your boyfriends, too.

Minho peaked his head out from around the refrigerator door to look at you, “you said it was a ‘little get together.’”

“Potatoe, potato.”

“Why don’t you wanna go to Changbin hyung’s thing? Didn’t you agree to give him some cookbooks as a housewarming gift or something?” Jisung snatched a crouton from the salad bowl Minho was preparing, earning him a sharp look from the older.

“I just don’t feel like socializing.” Minho groaned into the fridge, closing the door around his head, hiding.

Jisung stood and wrapped his arms around Minho to playfully shake him back and forth, “pleeease, hyung?”

“Pleeease, Min?” You copied Jisung’s tone, “it’ll be so much fun. We can drink and eat good food and–”

“Fine,” he pulled his head out of the fridge and pushed Jisung away, “but we’re leaving by 10.”

None of you left by 10, and the housewarming party was not little. It was like you were back in college with how many people you didn’t know crammed into one room. And like most college parties, everyone was wasted beyond belief, even Changbin who was meant to be hosting. You, Minho, and Jisung tried greeting him only to be met by his overly affectionate persona that showed face when he was drunk. He had slung his arm over your shoulder and slurred incoherent sentences in your ear that made you laugh.

Minho didn’t like that, he shoved Changbin off of you and let him fall to the couch to let someone else deal with.

As the three of you made your rounds to greet everyone that was sober enough to speak to, you came to the conclusion that you couldn’t let your friends be shit faced without any supervision. You took it upon yourself to watch over them, keep their face out of toilet bowls so they don’t drown and put a pillow under their heads when they finally passed out. Chan was sort of helping, though only for a little because Jisung convinced him to take a few more shots knowing how much of a lightweight he is, and Chan was soon down for the count as well and taking up space on the hallway floor. Felix and Hyunjin were nowhere to be found, you could only guess they either left early or occupied one of the bathrooms to share the toilet. Seungmin refused to let you help him make it to the couch, Minho had to throw him over his shoulder to cooperate, and Jeongin followed you like a lost puppy until you coerced him into Changbin’s bed beside him where they both fell asleep.

You were too absorbed in getting all the other strangers out of the house and making sure your friends didn’t die that you didn’t realize it had probably been hours since you’d spoken to Minho or Jisung. Even if you arrived with and planned to leave with them, you suddenly felt lonely.

Turning down the music and flicking on the lights, you picked up whatever trash you could to get ahead of cleaning when you heard voices coming from the kitchen. Surely, it was your best friends because they would never leave you behind. Without thinking, you headed for the garbage can in the kitchen and hoped to talk Minho into forgiving you for keeping them out so late. The voices fell silent, as did your footsteps when you tiptoed over a passed out Chan to step into the room. You laughed at his sleeping form, using his jacket as a blanket and one of the couch’s throw pillows tucked beneath his head. 

Just as you entered the kitchen’s doorway, your eyes fell upon what was both the most confusing and entrancing of scenes. Pinned between the countertop and Minho’s body was Jisung with his fingers carding through the brunette’s hair, tugging him closer while their lips moved in together in a delicate dance. The sound of their mouths colliding and lungs striving for air was the only thing you could hear, ringing in your ears like a siren song. Minho’s hands snaked around the younger’s waist and made him look small in his grasp. You particularly watched the way neither of them seemed to be in a hurry and how gently they held one another. Your hand moved on its own, coming up to your mouth to touch your lips like they were longing for the same warmth. The movement made the plastic red cups in your hold drop to the floor with a loud clatter, scaring you into dropping everything else, too.

The two boys pulled away from each other in the blink of an eye, immediately realizing that it was you. Their stares were wide and frantic and ears tinted red. Jisung scratched at the back of his neck and readjusted his shirt, Minho ran his fingers through his hair, and both their lips plump, glossy, kiss bitten. They looked between each other and back at you, then each other again before taking a step forward in unison towards you. You took a step back, still unsure of what to do. Neither of them pressed again, just watching your movements.

“I didn’t mean to intrude…” you laughed out of nervousness and embarrassment, moreso the latter hoping they couldn’t see the pink that covered your cheeks. “I’m… I’m gonna go home.”

“We’ll come with you,” Jisung was quick to speak, holding his hand out. You backed away another step, an anxious chuckle leaving you.

“That’s okay. I– I’m gonna sleep at my own place tonight.” Jisung backed down, knowing that the sympathetic smile on your face was enough to show you weren’t mad or upset, just needing space.

However, Minho looked like a lost puppy that was just kicked to the ground, more than hurt. The sheen that covered his eyes were painful to look at, as though you’d been the one to hurt him. As far as that was from the truth, you still had to blink a few overwhelmed tears away while simultaneously feigning a smile so hard your cheeks hurt. His hands were less antsy, clutching one over his chest. As you looked between them, you swiped the stray moisture from your eyes and gave them a thumbs up, “I’ll see you guys… uh… soon… Bye.”

With that, you left, hoping the night air would make the fog in your brain dissipate.

Out of all the things you expected the night to bring, seeing your two best friends kissing definitely wasn’t one of them. By no means were you angry, not at them, at least. Confused, sure, but who wouldn’t be? More than anything, you were curious. They seemed so comfortable with each other, as though they’d been doing it for years.

If you hadn’t alarmed them, what would have happened next? If you hadn’t run away, what would they have said? If you hadn’t reacted so badly, would you be asleep next to them and not in your own bed alone?

As you laid facing the ceiling, your mind wandered back to the night before. The sounds of their wet lips smothering one another, the grip of Jisungs fingers pulling Minho’s hair so sweetly and Minho caressing Jisung like he was fine china. You wondered when the hell that had happened, when they happened. There wasn’t a day since you had expressed feeling left out that they had neglected inviting you, so how the fuck did you miss all the signs? And why was it bothering you that you did? You should be beyond the moon that your two most precious people in the world are seeing each other, because they’re perfect. They’re perfect together and you couldn’t have picked anyone better to make them happy. Right?

Right. They’re carbon copies in different fonts, strangely perfect and perfectly strange. Why does your chest feel so tight? Since when did your heart beat in your stomach? There’s no way you could be jealous, or else you’d be an even shittier person than you thought you already were.

In the two days you had been ignoring their texts and phone calls– mostly Jisungs’s– you ran through every possible explanation your smooth brain could come up with. There was that they were drunk and it was a spur of the moment thing. Though, that wouldn’t explain either of their reactions, if that was the case then they would’ve laughed it off. You also theorized that maybe Jisung had food on his face, it was a common enough occurrence that you couldn’t rule it out entirely. Yeah, that’s the one. Minho was helping him because Jisung would rather aimlessly lick his tongue around his lips than use a napkin, and it just so happened that they—

Knock, knock, knock.

You weren’t expecting anyone, and deliveries can never make it up the six flights of stairs to get to your front door. Haphazardly, you tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. Jisung was bouncing up and down in his spot, ashy blonde hair messy like he’d just wrestled with a bear. His head snapped straight up to the dark side of the peephole, “Y/N, c’mon. I heard you walk up to the door.”

“Fuck,” you curse to yourself before letting him in.

Jisung pushed his way through before you even had the opportunity to open the door all the way, kicking off his house slippers and pacing around your living room. Slowly shutting it behind you, you leaned your back against the door and clutched onto your elbows. He waved his hands around like he was having an internal battle with himself. In fact, Jisung looked like he’d been fighting that battle for the past two days. He was still dressed in his house shorts and a ratty old shirt you remember him buying years ago, there was a hole in his sock where his big toe was and it made you smile small at his never ending hardheadedness even after both you and Minho told him to throw the pair away.

“Ji,” you called, voice cracking slightly. He stopped his stride and eyes shot teary daggers into your soul. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

“B– but I need to! Things are so much more complicated than it looked when you found us and you deserve answers because you’ve never once kept anything from us and–”

You took a few strong steps forward to catch him by the shoulders and came face to face. He was almost shaking in your hold, letting your hands warm the cold skin of his neck to sooth him. Jisung melted into your touch and you could feel him already beginning to calm, though his lip still trembled, so much he wanted to say but had no idea how to say it. So you spoke first, “you two are my most favorite people in the entire world. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“That’s the problem,” Jisung took your hands and guided them to his cheeks, keeping you from moving. He took a closer step into you, “you’re our favorite person. And the way you looked at us…” The way he referred to the pair of them made you feel just that much more sick in your gut. “I’d rather die than have you look at me like that again.” His hands held yours tighter, squishing your palms to his cheeks to the point of his lips puckering. 

You didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to calm down enough so that he could articulate himself the way he wanted. When he did, Jisung sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I need to tell you something but you need to promise me you won’t run.”

“You know I have a 14 minute walking mile time.” He laughed breathily and guided you both to sit on the floor, couch behind your backs with your hands still glued to his cheeks. “You can tell me anything.”

“Min wanted to wait, but I can’t stand not talking to you for so long–”

“It’s been two days.”

“Exactly. And I’m going crazy because I love you so much…” Jisung gritted his teeth as he said it, you filled the tense silence by whispering, “I love you, too.”

“No, no… Y/N. I love you,” his tone went higher the more he spoke, scared of the blank, expressionless look on your face. Your silence made him keep talking, “I’m in love with you and I’m in love with Minho and he’s in love with you, too. We’re in love with you and I can’t take another second without you knowing that.”

Either you felt everything at once or you felt nothing at all, though you doubted the latter was the issue. The problem was that you didn’t know what it was you were feeling, the two days of voluntary solitude wasn’t enough for you to understand the panging in your chest and how your heart was about to fall out of your ass or the way you wanted to jump Jisung’s bones and hug him until you molecularly phased into his body. All that, and all you could say was, “I love you, too,” again.

It seems he had the same thoughts you did because Jisung crashed his body into yours and sent you slamming into the floor with him keeping you in a bone crushing embrace. His head stayed buried in your neck and hand tangled in your hair, the way you remember him doing to Minho. The feeling of him pulling you in closer by the roots had you wrapping your legs around his torso so the two of you were shaped around one another like a vine. How long you stayed like this, you didn’t know, just that he left supple kisses along the junction of your shoulder that made your head spin with adoration. 

More than likely it was hours later that the two of you made your way into your bed with a laughable amount of snacks and coffee to keep you awake for another two days, snuggled beneath the covers. This was normal, in bed with him doing nothing but talking and sharing your thoughts was what you and Jisung did on a regular basis. Except now, he was on his side, head propped in his palm and looking at you like you held the world in your hands. Little to your knowledge, he always looked at you like that. It was only at this moment did you realize.

“When did you and Min… get together?” Your voice was soft, listening intently.

“The same time you got mad at us for leaving you out. That wasn’t intentional and I already knew how I felt about you. I was just… caught up in the moment for a little? God, I had never felt so shitty in my life, making you cry like that.” Jisung lifted his hand to thumb at your cheek as you smiled into his touch.

“Yeah, I didn’t really appreciate that either,” you joked. “So… you’ve known you liked me–”

“Love you,” he corrected.

“Loved me,” Jisung nodded in approval. “And you told Min before you told me?”

“I was scared! You don’t have the best track record with confrontation, babe.” You both giggled at the recall of the previous night, your head falling against his chest to hide the tinge of pink on your cheeks. His free hand held your cheek to his pec and soothingly massaged your scalp until you both relaxed.

It was silent again for a little as you readjusted to lay completely in his arms, engulfed in his scent and body heat. As you laid there, your mind went through all of the times where the three of you were together, you scanned the background of your memories for all the weird stares you’d get from passersby or comments your friends made, even the times where they’d call themselves your boyfriends and how easily it rolled off their tongues.

“Okay.”

Jisung looked down at you, humming with confusion, “okay?”

“Break it down for me.” You drew meaningless shapes into his skin through his shirt, feeling his heartbeat pick up just a little. “I wanna know how this is… all gonna work.”

“Oh! O– okay, well,” Jisung took in a large breath before reaching for your fidgeting hand and intertwining your fingers. “We’ll go slow, step by step, take as much time as you need to feel comfortable. Phase one, we do everything we already do just with a few… more than friendly perks.”

You lingered on the way your hand fit in his so nicely, skin soft and his pretty fingers decorated with rings. “What about Minho? You said he didn’t want you to tell me yet.”

Jisung sighed at the mention of the older. “We let him bring it up at his own pace. He scares away like a cat, y’know.”

The longer Jisung played with your hand, the longer you yearned to touch him, more of him. Mentioning Minho made you remember the tight grip he had in the brunette’s hair, how sweet he sounded when kissing him. You bit your lip at the thought and was suddenly raging with confidence. “So,” you sat up and looked at him, now towering over his figure. “If I wanted to kiss you, would I have to wait to do it infront of him?”

“Y– you wanna kiss me?” Jisung’s eyes widened, pads of his fingers coming up to press against his lips.

Taking his hand away, you guided it to your neck the way he did to you earlier. “Since we’re being honest, I can’t stop thinking about that night, you and him.” His grip tightened just a little as your hand splayed over his chest and slowly rose up. “Can I? Kiss you?”

“Oh my god, I’ve been waiting for you to as–”

Jisung pulled you into him before he could finish his thought, slotting against you with ambition. He felt just as you imagined him, eager but mindful in how to hold you, letting you set the tone with just closed mouth smooches as the sounds of your lips smacking bounced off the bedroom walls. Both his hands found their way into your hair and pulled you impossibly closer until your body fell onto him entirely. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, kissing your best friend until you were both breathless and needy, knowing better than to do anything more.

But oh, how you wanted to. You wanted to kiss him everywhere, make him cower into the sheets and make him feel how much you loved him. There was just too much right now, too much to be figured out. A night of desire wasn’t worth a lifetime of friendship.

So as you pulled away, reluctant Jisung whining and chasing after you for more, you let your forehead rest against his and let out a satisfied laugh. “Slow,” you whispered, letting him pepper kisses to your cheeks.

“Can’t we just jump to phase three?” He breathed against your skin.

“What’s phase three?”

Jisung’s lips made their way down your neck, his tongue leaving wet streaks the further he descended. “You, me, Min, a big ass bed covered in rose petals and candle light. Maybe a kick ass playlist to set the mood–”

The sound of your phone ringing made the both of you jump as if you were being caught doing something illegal. You broke into another fit of giggles when you found out it was Minho calling you. “Hey, pretty boy,” you answer him with a grin, still looking down at Jisung who stared up at you fondly.

“Jesus, Y/N. Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering? Are you home? I– I’ve tried calling you for days–”

“Two days, Min.”

“Days. It’s been days.” Jisung could hear his voice booming through the phone, laughing and shrugging at how it’s the same thing he’d told you.

“I’m okay.” You eased his worries with two simple words, hearing him sigh on the other end of the call.

“You’re okay,” Minho repeated, relieved.

There was a pause in his breathing, probably unsure of what to say as he walked on eggshells. You knew this about him, he needed careful approaching, as Minho doesn’t like what he doesn’t already know. “I’m coming over tomorrow,” you stated.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

Chuckling lightly, you let Jisung bring your fingertips to his lips and press a kiss to them. As you smiled at the man beneath you, you spoke into the phone, “love you.”

“Whatever… Love you, too.”

“Love you, too!” Jisung yelled into the speaker before you hung up, hearing Minho let out a strangled call of the other boy’s full name and the line went dead.

Jisung immediately took your phone and tossed it aside so he could kiss you again. And again, and again, and again, until both your lips were raw and bruised and chapped.

He slept over and the two of you went over to Minho’s the next afternoon. You were dizzy with how quickly things were changing in your trio’s dynamic, but chose to embrace it rather than question it. Jisung assured you that everything will move as you chose, there was no pressure to do anything you didn’t want to— except talking to Minho. That was something the two men previously agreed that that was Minho’s conversation to have with you. It made you nervous, but if you know him like you think you do, it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

Nothing was out of any sorts. The topic of the housewarming party was nowhere in sight as you ate lunch, stayed for dinner and even dessert, deciding to call it a night a bit later.

Days went by like that. In front of Minho, everything was the same. But when you and Jisung were alone, things began to get more and more heated. Hands roamed further, kisses became more desperate, you had to force yourself off his lap out of guilt that Minho didn’t know what was happening.

“Baby, you think I wouldn’t tell him? He knows,” Jisung explained after what was probably the fourth or fifth time that week you’ve stopped before you could even get started.

“He knows?! For how long?!” You fully slammed on his crotch, Jisung wincing in pain and accidentally knocking his head back against his headboard. Crossing your arms over your chest, you could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the heavy contact.

“For a few days— can you not sit—“

You intentionally sat deeper, crushing him. “When exactly did you tell him?”

“Three days ago— Y/N, my balls, please—“

“We could’ve had sex three days ago without me feeling like a guilty piece of shit?!”

“There’ll be no dick to have sex with if you don’t get up!” You lifted your hips with a roll of your eyes, Jisung sighing with relief as the pressure alleviated. “I briefly mentioned it in passing that you were a little weary about moving forward without talking to him.”

“Oh… Well, what did he say?”

“That he’s getting there. He’s just really embarrassed,” he caught your hands fidgeting again, holding them tightly in his own before guiding your palms against his chest.

“Embarrassed? About what?”

“How you found out. Let him tell you the details, I think it’s better that way.” You nodded, exhaling deeply as your heart sank a little that Minho was too embarrassed about the whole thing to even speak to you.

“Is he… embarrassed of me?” The sting of hot tears wanted to swell in your waterline, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that you caused him to feel such a way. You know Minho, you know Jisung, and you know that there has never been a time where you didn’t think you couldn’t go to them for anything. You were sure that if you killed someone, they’d get rid of the body to keep you out of jail. Or better yet, help you plan the murder so none of you were even considered suspects.

Jisung sat up and wrapped his arms around your torso to bring you in for a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. “Baby, baby, no. That’s not it at all!” Your small sniffle had him squeezing you tighter, “I can’t explain it to you the way that he can, but just know we love you. And we want to be with you. You know how weird his mind works. He’ll talk to you about it soon.”

Nodding in agreement, taking Jisung’s words to heart and letting your mind drift away from the brunette and back to the ashy blonde beneath you.

Pulling away from your hiding spot, the aching between your legs was still painfully present, as was the straining in his pants. Pushing his hair from his face while your other hand thumbed at his mouth, your eyebrows raised, “I’m guessing you’re not big on cock stepping?”

Laughing, falling back and taking you with him, Jisung’s hands slipped just under the hem of your shirt to feel your warm skin. “Not particularly. I’d like to have kids someday.”

You smiled as he kissed you, a simple peck that multiplied down his neck and across his exposed collar bones. He liked that area, you noted in the way his hips kicked up into yours and the grip around your waist grew stronger. His hands slipped higher until you decided to discard the shirt entirely, your bra clad cleavage proudly in his face. It wasn’t anything special, but Jisung’s eyes blew wide as though your covered breasts were the key to his life’s questions.

“How can you go from crying about our boyfriend to having your tits in my face? Like a fucking angel,” he ogled your chest unabashedly.

“I’m not even naked yet,” you giggled, blushing.

“Oh god, you’re right.” Jisung dragged his hands down his face while letting his eyes roll back and dramatically whimpering.

Leaning down to kiss him, you shot back up just as quickly, “our boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend, my boyfriend. The broody, moody guy that cooks for us sometimes and smells really good—”

“Han Jisung,” you interrupted him once more. “Ask me the question.”

“Y’know, I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Did you, now?”

“I was waiting for the right time to say it.”

“Mhm.”

“I was! I practiced it in the bathroom mirror and I gotta say, I’d definitely date me.” Nodding your head some more, you tapped your forefinger against his cheek. “Fine, fine. Cliff notes version,” your approving hum made Jisung clear his throat. “Please do me the honor of allowing me to be your one of two boyfriends.”

“Only because you said please.”

You were flipped onto your back in the split second it took to kiss him again, a squeal leaving your lips when your head hit the pillows. The room was filled with giggles from you and Jisung, hands roaming where they never had before but feeling as though they should’ve been the whole time. He never stayed away for too long, when he took his hands away to strip off his shirt, Jisung grinded his hips deeply into you, fabric on fabric good but not nearly enough.

You’d seen him shirtless more than enough times and each time you’d wanted to run your tongue through the lines of his abs. How badly you wanted to do that now as Jisung towered over you, looking down at your body, his to devour. His eyes were dark, tiniest of glimmers when he smiled deviously. Thumb pressing against your lips, Jisung tilted his head and pouted, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, baby.

“If it gets too much for you, call yellow, we’ll slow down. Say red and we’ll stop completely. Okay?” You nodded, understanding what you were getting into with him. There have been enough vague yet pinpoint detailed stories shared, making you all the more excited to finally experience it for yourself.

He didn’t need to force his digit past your lips, you let him in without a fight, immediately sucking and teasing him with your tongue. Jisung tsked at your eagerness, “what happened to going slow, hm?”

Teasing. He was teasing you, using your words against you because Jisung knew that’s where his strength lied. He knew he could say the nastiest of things and get away with it, he did it before everything happened and now he could say it with all intents and purposes. Your hips rutted up from under him, but Jisung’s body weight kept you pinned to the mattress. The more you squirmed the bigger he smiled. His chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths was taunting you, your free hand reaching up to trace your nails down his skin from his pec down to the hem of his pants. Jisung shivered at the feeling and you had the honor of witnessing his cock twitching.

Plucking his thumb away, Jisung smeared your saliva over your lips and cheek until his fingers tangled in your hair again, this time yanking you somehow even further against the pillows. Your wince was followed by a menacing giggle, provoking him into gripping the roots tighter. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, babe.”

“You’re so cute when you try to be scary,” you pouted up at him mockingly, laugh turning into a moan when he tugged your head up and leaned over to be centimeters away from each other.

“Is being intimidating only Min’s thing? You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Then teach me. How scared should I be of you, baby?”

Jisung huffed and threw you back down, climbing off your body entirely and stepping to the side of the bed. You laid on your side, looking up at him as his eyes raked up and down your figure, bra strap slipping off your shoulder and house shorts riding up to just barely show the outline of your aching cunt. Jisung’s mouth watered as you waited for his response, your face feigning innocence while your body was screaming for his touch.

His hand lingered over the button of his pants for a second before crouching to your eye level. “You want the beginner lesson?”

“Advanced.” Jisung pecked your lips once more before standing tall again, finally undoing his pants and relieving the pressure. His bulge fell over the zipper, covered only by his boxers and even those seemed too tight. You bit your lip, reaching out for him. Jisung slapped your hand away and scrunched his eyebrows together, “who gave you permission?”

“I did,” you answered immediately.

“You’re not the boss, baby. Not right now. I don’t have the patience to deal with your brattiness, you’ve kept me waiting for too long already.” He took his pants off and boxers along with it, length springing free in your face.

“Why’s that? You only let Min talk shit to you?”

“Nah, you’ll see. I’ve trained him real good, and I’m gonna do the same with you.”

Jisung manhandled you to hang your head over the edge of the bed, looking at him upside down. The way he threw you around like a ragdoll was painfully arousing, you knew he worked out, but not just how strong he was. “Oh, so you can use those muscles. Who knew?”

“You’re still making jokes? Aren’t you the one on your back?”

“Aren't you the one on a leash?”

“And who’s holding the lead? You?” Jisung scoffed, taking his cock in hand and slowly stroking. It wasn’t until you saw it in his grasp did you realize the extent of his size, you turned to get a better look but was shoved back into position instantly. “No, of course you aren’t. You’re too cock hungry to even control yourself. What ever made that pretty head think it could control me?”

Holding you down by the shoulder, your mouth opened and tongue fell out as Jisung gave a few soft slaps to your cheek with his dick. As degrading as it was, nothing was more humiliating than the fact that you couldn’t stop your legs from pressing together and your hands white knuckling the sheets to stop from shoving them down your pants. He chuckled and his own jaw went slack. “See? Just a slutty little puppy. Wanting to suck on anything and everything.”

You whined a little when he forced your mouth closed with his free hand and held you steady, smearing his precum covered tip around your lips. “Aw, you sound so cute. Cute pup.”

Hips kicking higher, you let them fall back down roughly and drawing his attention elsewhere. Jisung let your jaw go to shove his cock down your throat unexpectedly, making you gag and tears immediately flood. He didn’t give you room to even think, his balls pressing against your nose and leaning over your body to bury himself deeper. Just when you thought you were going to tap out, Jisung pulled away and had you gasping for air.

“Where’d you learn to take cock so well, pup? Mind if I help myself?” He didn’t wait for you to reply, propping himself up on either side of your torso and blindly entering your mouth again. Your throat constricted around it for a few seconds, letting himself succumb to the warm, wet walls. The muffled whimper made goosebumps rise along Jisung’s skin and pull out to the tip. You swirl your tongue around and around, suckling him like a lollipop and attempting to keep your hands to yourself. As if not touching yourself was torture enough, he took a handful of the front of your shorts and pulled, center seam rubbing against your clit easily with how wet you were.

“Didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” he laughed darkly and practically holding your lower half in the air by your shorts, frantically searching for friction. “You were even easier to tame than Min, just had to tell him how cute he was and he was a goner. You? All you want is a good cock to pacify you, hm? Who woulda thought.”

The mumble of your attempted response was intelligible until he pulled away to let his dick fall from your mouth, “what was that, pup?”

“Need your cock,” you breathed heavily, finally able to now that your mouth was free.

“Yeah you fucking do,” Jisung dropped your lower half and stuck his hand down the front of your shorts, fingers swiping at youre core and spreading your arousal beneath the fabric. “Gonna make you crave me all the fucking time.”

Finally being touched had your jaw hanging open again, but he didn’t seem to notice, entranced by the lewd sound of your wetness. He wasn’t rough but not gentle either, massaging the perfect amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves and made you rub your hips into his palm. You’ve been worked up for days, desperate to come, desperate enough to grab his hand and still him, using him to your pleasure without care. Jisung let you for the time being, stuck in a trance watching the way you moved. How small your hand looked wrapped around his wrist, it’d look even prettier around his–

“Gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fu–”

Jisung stole himself away just before you could finish, killing the impending high you so deeply wanted.

“No, no! Fucking hell, why?!” You whined loudly, legs spasming from denial.

He didn't answer you, not losing any adrenaline and still able to powerfully maneuver you away from the edge of the bed, strip away your remaining clothing, and have you sitting on top of him again in a moment’s notice. Jisung sat with his back against the headboard, though low enough that your head leveled higher than his, staring down at his sweaty, smug face.

“Fucking pillow princess,” you murmured out of spite, not thinking anything of it as you reached for his cock.

Grabbing your hand tightly, “the fuck did you call me, pup?” Jisung tilted his head back and dominatingly peered at you through sharp eyes, clearly not playing.

“Pillow. Princess.” You struggled to get out of his grasp. The denied orgasm had pissed you off, initially ready to let him have his way until he stripped you of the one thing he knew you’d been pining for. This was retaliation.

The light slap across your cheek sent you into a monetary daze, eyes going wide at the sting. Jisung was already looking at you when you peered down at him, clear in the way his chin tipped up at you that you had lost that battle.

“Don’t bite the hand that fucking feeds you, pup. Be my good fucking girl and ride.” Not like you were beaten into submission, moreso talked into it, you whimpered and lip involuntarily pouted. Jisung’s handle on your wrist loosened and allowed you to take his dick in hand, pressing the tip to your entrance. As a last desperate act, you circled it around the rim, gathering your essence and teasing the both of you. “Last warning,” he threatened, not bothering to look at you as the sight of him about to enter you was distracting enough.

When you sank down, slow, inch by inch, you melted into one another as you came to the hilt, shivering once your clit made contact with the warm skin of his pelvis. Jisung’s shoulders relaxed, his hands rubbing soothingly over the tops of your thighs and up your love handles. The two of you stayed like this for a while, his domineering act washing away a little as your lip continued to tremble. He smirked, cupping your cheek, “awe, too much for you, pup?”

His counterfeit sympathy was obvious, but you’d take what you could get, nuzzling into his palm and nails digging into his abdomen. Jisung nodded along with you, jutting his lower lip out while also reading your face for any sign of discomfort. He knew you had limits, just testing where they were knowing fully well you could stop if you wanted.

Though, you shook your head, no, brows scrunching together and eyes blinking away pleasureful tears. You were already breathless and overwhelmed, leaving red crescents into Jisung’s skin wherever you laid your claws, but he seemed to like the pain. He pushed your hands deeper into him and looked straight into your eyes, “ride.”

Experimentally, you leaned forward and lifted your hips, sinking back down almost uncoordinatedly with how excited and overwhelmed you were. Jisung could feel your thighs shaking as you sat down fully on him, he placed his hands on your love handles and gave an encouraging squeeze.

Raising again, you slammed down harder, repeating the action until you found a steady rhythm. Filling and emptying, again and again, you were dizzy with how good it felt. Heat flushed your body as you lost yourself in working against him, genuinely paying no mind to the man blushing beneath you. Jisung gazed at you in awe, adoration as you enjoyed yourself. He didn’t even feel the need to help you anymore, putting his hands behind his head and took in the sight of your tits bouncing with each motion. The longer you kept your pace, your knees and thighs burned and muscles began to grow tight. You changed the position slightly, propping one leg up and using that leverage to continue. But even that became tiresome, finding yourself growing much too emotionally saturated to bring yourself to orgasm.

Jisung could feel this, your frustration, and he felt somewhat bad that he hadn’t given you the first high. Only somewhat. Seeing you work yourself into a whining, moaning mess made him smile to himself and sit up to press his chest to yours. Jisung peppered kisses along your collarbone and softly worked you down to a slow grind. Your heart rate fell steady as he finally indulged you with a sweet kiss, stark comparison to the mean words he spat earlier.

He wouldn’t be Jisung if he didn’t leave you wanting more, pulling away prematurely and leaning back again, this time taking you with him. He guided your hands to hold onto the top of the head board and smother his face in your breasts. Marks he bit into your skin felt more pleasurable than painful, you wondered if the slap before truly hurt or if you were just shocked.

Your grip on the headboard tightened as his hands lifted you a bit more by your bottom and spread your knees wider. Jisung jutted up slightly, testing his and your patience. He did this again, shallowly thrusting just the tip into you, making you moan, “Ji, baby, pleeease.”

“Am I still a pillow princess, pup? You couldn’t even get yourself to cum, now I have to do all the work.” Even if it was mean, his tone of voice like mothering a toddler that was learning to eat on their own, gentle teaching.

“Hnghhh, nooo,” you mewled.

“No, what, pup?” Jisung continued his depthless ruts, egging you on.

“Can’t– need to– wanna cum–”

He could hear how fragile you were now, overall amazed by you to the point he wanted to ditch the entire facade and give you everything you wanted. Though, he needed to see it through till the end, more like to prove to himself that he could do it in the first place.

Adjusting his hands to grip your love handles firmly, Jisung kept you in place to thrust up into you. You were caught off guard at how quickly he gave into your needy pleas, knees almost giving out below you. But Jisung was quick to catch your weight, every thrust up as you fell down kept you bouncing once again, tits jiggling in his face delightfully smothering. The minor slap he left to your ass made your cunt clench and cry out louder, then repeating just to get a reaction. Jisung wasn’t sure what he loved more, how naturally your body responded to him or how you couldn’t seem to get enough.

Your hands moved from the head board to his shoulder, wrapping around his neck to brace yourself on and to feel as close as possible. Here, you were coming undone quicker than expected, having him doing the work now let you fall victim to the euphoria of his cock nudging the sweet spot within you, stars behind your eyelids. Ripples of pain from Jisung teething at your skin meshed with the pleasure, you didn’t realize how loud you had gotten until you couldn’t hear him nor the skin on skin anymore.

Body shaking, coveting for the high and well on its way, you snuck your hands into his hair and hardly needed to tug to have Jisung’s head falling back and looking up at you through his lashes. His thrusts kept a steadier rhythm, digging his heels into the mattress and coercing you into meeting his lips in a jolty, electrifying kiss. Just as your lips met, the tip of his cock hit your soft spot right on target, shoving you face first into the feeling you’d been dying for. Your body tensed and clenched around him, fucking you through your orgasm until it eventually subsided.

A bit longer you let Jisung use your body to chase his own, he deserved it for putting up with your sharp tongue. Even that didn’t take very long, Jisung had been fending off his orgasm for over twenty minutes, from even before you took your shirt off.

And when the white light blinded him, Jisung let out a string of curses and your name, hints of whiney whimpers in between. He was exceptionally quick to recover, immediately noting your state of mind and body and helped you to lay down.

You winced as he pulled out and used his shirt to catch any spillage, holding it to your cunt before he airlifted you to the bathroom. You had forgotten whose house you were in, that’s how hazy you’d gotten.

Jisung let you finish your business, kissing your forehead and wiping your body down with a wet rag once you’d called his name to help you back to bed.

The bed in question was beyond messy, fitted sheet undone and comforter on the floor. Did Jisung always sleep with just one pillow? No, there were the other three strewn about the perimeter of the bed, one somehow ending up at the foot of it. Jisung, seeing where your head was at as he set you down to lay back, said, “got a bit carried away, didn’t we?”

“We?” You joked, voice horse. He gave you a wink and ran off to grab some water before retreating into the space next to you.

Neither of you bothered to get dressed, laying naked in one another’s arms as you decompressed together. “You’re not as rough as I thought you’d be,” you admitted, rolling over and throwing a leg over his torso.

“I’m not? Noted,” Jisung raised an eyebrow and kissed your forehead again. “If we’re giving feedback, I’d say Minho is gonna have a hell of a time with you. He’ll like the whole brat thing.”

“Did you?” You look up at him, genuinely just curious.

“That’s not even a question,” he waved it off, scoffing because how could you not tell that he was internally cursing himself for not confessing to you sooner if that was the outcome? “Everything I could ask for and more.”

“I liked the nickname a lot. No one’s ever called me that before.”

“Yeah? It suits you. Cute puppy,” Jisung wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed tightly, knocking the air out of you. “But I’m curious,” his voice dropped just a little. “You think of us? Me and Minho?”

“Well— yeah. And honestly, I thought the roles would’ve been reversed.”

“You think he’s a top? Oh, sweet, sweet, baby.” Jisung pecked loving kisses to the top of your head, “he’s half a power bottom at best.”

“To be fair, I didn’t even know he liked girls,” the whisper in your tone softened along with Jisung’s touch, moving to gently run his fingers through your hair.

“He’s the real pillow princess, baby. You might have to knock some sense into him.”

Smirking up at him, “you’ll let me?”

“I’ll let you do anything you want to him.”

“Mmm, you wouldn’t mind if I mark him up?” Jisung’s eyebrow raised, intrigued, “let me cover him in pretty bruises?”

“I’d kill to see that, pup.” You were being smothered in kisses once more, closing your eyes and falling victim to his sweet touches. “But tell me what else you think about. You’ve piqued my interest.”

“You want me to tell you that I fantasized about my best friends making out?”

“Duh. Me, though, tell me what you think about me.” You could just tell he was wiggling his eyebrows with a sly smirk.

You groaned, “in the morning. Tired.”

Jisung took hold of your shoulders and shook you side to side, whining, “nooo, puppy, pleeease? Just a few compliments then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

Protests went in one ear and out the other with him, not letting you lay still until you gave him what he wanted. “You’re so lucky I like you, fucking menace.”

“Just like?” His mouth fell open into an “O.”

“Love. I love you.”

It was a lot easier to say when you had your face buried in his chest, not having to look him in the eye as you did. You knew that if you had been looking at him, you might’ve broken into tears, which would’ve made Jisung cry, too. That still didn’t stop your face from heating up and being hit with another rush of emotions.

“How much?” He teased, thankfully not seeing your eyes glaze over.

“I love you a lot. Like, a monumental amount and… Min, too. It’s scary,” your voice falling short and nuzzling your cheek into his skin.

Jisung let you take your time to slow your breathing again before he spoke, “I’d kiss you but I’m scared if I look at you, I’ll cry like a baby.”

“I know you will. Just hold me?”

He did, tighter, if that was even possible. “I will, just like this. Except when Min’s here, he’ll be right behind you to keep your cute booty warm when you fall asleep. You won’t have any space to move ‘cus neither of can stand to not be touching in some way. You’ll probably overheat and be on the verge of death by heatstroke, we give off heat like fucking furnaces. I’ll have a little snack on my side table in case you get hungry in the middle of the night, or you can roll over and get a few cuddles from Min, I won’t be upset, cross my heart.” You giggled at that. “We can move into his place since we all know he has the biggest bedroom, or we can look for another place to fit all three of us and give you a nice, big closet. Every night, we can take turns cooking and let Min throw a fit when we both burn the food so he ends up cooking for us anyways…”

Your chest was filled, warm and sickeningly sweet with the words Jisung continued to whisper in your ear until you eventually fell asleep. The nauseating feeling of waiting, wondering was nowhere near now that there was a clear landing for where you stood in their established relationship, at least, for now.

-

A/N: YAYAYAYAY phase one!!! idea: 10/10, execution: 4/10...I've been having a hard time connecting ideas lately and I think it's just stress but I'm hoping this lived up to expectations ://

feedback!! feed me!! I love love love hearing what you all think! it really does help me improve as a writer, even if it's constructive!

reminder to drink water, eat three meals a day, give your loved ones a hug. < 3

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @angelica-erin-caelius @dazzlingligth @lvrmin @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten

The gentle process of weaning has been complete for weeks now, and you're nearing nine months postpartum. The baby, now a chaotic little crawler, represents the beautiful end of your contractual obligation. You feel the original agreement breathing down your neck, even though you know you can't make yourself leave. The house is home now.

You are in the living room, attempting to organize the mountain of toys, when Minho and Jisung come in. They move together, years of being together has them mirroring each other unconsciously, their approach says they are about to deliver serious news.

Minho sits you down on the edge of the couch. Jisung nervously takes a seat opposite you, immediately fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie.

“The company pushed again,” Minho says, his voice low and serious. “They want the final contract documents signed by the end of the week. They want to know when we are scheduling your move.” He cuts his gaze to yours, intense and steady. “The answer is never.”

Jisung leans forward, his hands clasped tightly. “I mean… We can sign all the documents but- But we don't want you to move out. You made this baby for us, but you helped build this family with us too. We want you to stay. As her mother, and as our partner... If you’d like that”

The sheer weight of their offer is paralyzing. It is everything you want, but accepting it means committing to a future that breaks every rule you've given yourself and requires you to put yourself out there, vulnerable.

“I… I can’t- Right now…” you whisper, the words barely escaping your throat. “I need a couple of weeks. To think about what this means.”

Minho’s face hardens, but he nods, pulling Jisung into a tight hug as you leave the room. 

⋆｡°✩

The two weeks feel like an eternity. Everything is normal, yet everything is shadowed by your unanswered choice. Minho maintains a quiet distance, respectful of your space, giving you time to think, yet you catch him watching you with the baby, his eyes heavy with longing. Jisung, true to form, fills the silence with frantic energy, constantly seeking your proximity for comfort. You know they're anxious to hear your answer but it's not helping you relax at all.

Your baby girl is your anchor, as you drown in your thoughts, you spend hours on the floor of the nursery. An unconscious claim of your role. The baby, oblivious, has entered a phase of language exploration. She practices clicking sounds, puffs of air, and endless strings of da-da-da and ba-ba-ba. You're holding her while she attempts to demolish a soft block tower. Minho and Jisung are in the kitchen, their voices low as they discuss work, or maybe you… 

You lay the baby on the soft mat, playing with her, naming her features. She responds with gleeful gurgles and frantic kicking. Seeing your face, she reaches out a clumsy hand and grabs your nose. She stares at your mouth, mimicking the shape of your lips. Then, a distinct, deliberate sound leaves her lips, a sound she has never made before.

“Ma,” she coos, a clumsy, accidental affirmation. Her eyes are locked on yours, her face lit with pure triumph at having made a sound that got your attention. She repeats it, a little hiccup of sound. “Ma. Ma ma.”

Tears instantly blur your vision.  You press your face into her soft, sweet-smelling hair. You laugh, a full, rich sound that echoes slightly off the walls, and the baby stares at you, blinking slowly.

⋆｡°✩

Jisung has tried everything to break the serious tension, but tonight he attempts a makeshift date. He sets up the largest blanket fort you've ever seen, complete with twinkle lights, movie snacks, and a laptop balanced precariously on a stack of pillows.

“It’s a safe zone,” he whispers, pulling you inside. “No mindchurning allowed. Only bad horror movies and bad jokes.”

He settles beside you, and for the first hour, the date is exactly that. But when the jump scare hits, you don't just jump, you lean into his warmth. You rest your head against his neck, a silent gesture of comfort and choosing. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, before melting into the touch. He wraps his arm around you, holding you captive and secure against his chest.

Later, when Minho appears after setting the baby to bed, he observes the scene from the entrance of the fort. You look at him, smiling, and gently grabbing his hand and pulling him down. You hold him captive for a moment, before you doze off. 

⋆｡°✩

It's early morning, you are in the master bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. You're gently pulling a clean onesie over the baby's head, cooing at her as you dress her for the day. Minho and Jisung in and out, quietly starting their own routines, but their focus is entirely on you and the baby. They stand near the door, arms crossed, watching the effortless, domestic intimacy.

You kiss her forehead. "Who are you, my little sunshine? You're a princess, aren't you?"

The baby giggles at the kiss and tries to grasp at your hair. “Ma,” she coos, a clumsy sound but adorable nonetheless. Her eyes are locked on yours, she repeats it, a little hiccup of sound. “Mama.” She smiles like she knows she just got you in trouble.

Minho and Jisung freeze instantly. They saw the movement, they heard the word, and the silence that follows is absolute. You smile at her before turning to face the boys, you pick up the baby and carry her out to the living room, where Minho and Jisung instantly fall silent, their faces etched with anxiety. The look in their eyes, the sheer terror that you might actually be leaving, breaks your heart and solidifies your choice.

You walk right up to them, your voice soft.

“She’s done it before you know,” you state, looking directly at both of them.

Jisung gasps, burying his face in his hands. “She- what?”

You smile, a genuine, blinding smile that reaches your eyes. “She called me Mama.” You step closer. “I’m staying. I love her, I love this life, and I love you two.”

Minho’s composure finally melts. He lets out a single, rough exhale, and gently takes the baby from your arms. He steps aside just as Jisung launches himself at you, enveloping you in a tight, desperate hug that lifts you off your feet.

“We’re a family!” Jisung sobs, any other things he says come out mumbles into your shirt.

"We already were, you idiot." Minho steps into the embrace, bringing your little princess right between the three of you. The hug is tight, uneven, but so warm and gentle, at least until the baby girl decides she’s bored and starts pulling hair.

⋆｡°✩

Later that night, the house finally settles into silence. You and Jisung are curled up on the bed in the nursery, the soft glow of the table lamp illuminating the room. Minho is murmuring a story to your now-tucked-in little girl.

You hear his low voice drifting through the room, reading one of the worn picture books the boys had bought her. “...And here is Toto, too. And oh, Aunt Em! I'm so glad to be home again!”

Jisung leans over and kisses your temple, his touch lingering. He pulls the edge of the comforter higher over your shoulders.

“Happy?”

“Terrified, but yes,” you whisper back, smiling.

You let out a small, involuntary shiver as the cool air from the vent brushes your skin. Jisung smiles, he reaches over you to the wall unit, his thumb brushing the up arrow on the smart thermostat.

“It’s a bit chilly tonight,” he murmurs. “What temperature do you like best?” He looks at you, his eyes asking a silent question. 

"23"

"Is this better?"

You pull his hand down, holding it against your chest. “It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.”

Minho’s voice is soft and rhythmic, as he kisses babygirl goodnight. The numbers on the thermostat slowly tick upwards.