#sub!minho

It starts small.

A seed, planted deep in his chest. A nagging feeling, more like an itch than anything else. It flares when Minho's around. Jisung thinks nothing of it, thinks that it's just another manifestation of the fondness he feels around his hyung. He's known Minho was special to him since day one, after all. He could feel it in his bones that, no matter how his career went, no matter whether they made the group or not, that he and Minho's fates were intertwined.

It might just be because Jisung's a hopeless romantic, the kind of guy who apologizes when he breaks a tree branch or stops to smell the air just before the rain falls because it reminds him of home. He knows what it's like to believe in some sort of thing bigger than himself, because he likes that idea that this life he was given was with purpose. That his place next to Minho had a rhyme and a reason, woven into the very fabric of the universe.

So he ignores the itch at first. Let's the dull throb of…whatever tug at his chest when Minho gets that big smile on his face, ignores the twisting feeling when his laughter breaks through the fog in Jisung's head and reminds him that he's still alive. 

The hardest part is that it doesn't blossom overnight. There's no fireworks, no explosions, no grand sign from the universe that something is shifting.

It's a subtle feeling that grows over the years. Everything about Minho is water on the soil - his laugh, his smile, his energy, the way his fingers find Jisung's when he needs it the most - and slowly, something starts to flower in his heart. It's a single blossom, weak against the wind and the weather, and Jisung almost laughs when he realizes what's growing.

It should be obvious, because Minho's his sun. His guiding force, the person he writes songs about, the person he turns to when he needs to remember what it feels like to breathe the fresh summer air. Because that's what Minho is - a breath of fresh air, nestled between the cracks of Seoul's concrete jungle. A warm ray of sunshine on his skin when the cloud over his head makes everything dark and cold. He finds a fond smile tugging across his face when Stay makes comments about how "every Han Jisung girl has a Minho girl on her side", because he hopes it's true. Hopes dearly that everyone out there has their Minho, the person who they know they can rely on. 

So the flower blooms bigger and bigger, until Jisung wakes one morning with warmth on his cheek and a blossom filling his chest. He presses his fingers to the skin there, feels the beat of his heart, feels the rise and fall of his chest as he calms his breathing. Feels the way the petals curl inside of him, reaching for something he knows he can't have.

What a fool I would be to let that grow, he thinks, and crushes it under his heel. The stem is frail, and the petals dye the sole of his shoe a brilliant red, but wear will fade the color in time. He holds his head high and lets the feeling fade, lets the crushed remains of the flower sink into the hole in his chest and pretends it's fine. Because it is. Sure, maybe his songs are a little sadder, maybe the bridge takes a minor key, but the songs are good, so it's worth it. The emptiness is filled only with fuel, and he fills the space with creativity, because it's all he knows how to do. He writes, he dances, he sings, and he produces until there's no space left for anything to grow anymore.

…the unfortunate thing about a crushed flower, though, is that it's surprisingly resilient. Its seeds spread the second its guts are splayed across the floor, life blooming straight from the jaws of death. They grow in the cracks of a sidewalk, pressing through layers of asphalt and concrete, a reminder that life always triumphs. Jisung thinks it's poetic, the kind of thing that he would pen a love song about, if not for the fact that it's happening in his own chest. He feels like a sidewalk, split open, a crack deepening further and further inside of him and letting things slip through when they're supposed to be buried.

The breaking point is silly, really, because it's not really a breaking point at all. 

They're filming for a CODE episode, the kind of thing where the day stretches on and on like a yawning cavern and somehow they only manage to get maybe an hour of usable content. Mostly the fault of Seungmin and Changbin today, the latter of which can't help but give in to the younger's whims, causing chaos the whole filming session. Jisung has money on the two of them being together under wraps against Felix, who is convinced that Changbin and Hyunjin are hooking up instead. Watching the two of them now solidifies Jisung's bet, because you'd have to be an oblivious idiot to miss the way that Seungmin melts when Changbin grabs him, manhandling him into his lap to "subdue the puppy" (or so he says. Jisung thinks it's to hide the half-chub he surely must be spouting after his potentially-secret boyfriend has been teasing him all day). 

The theme for today is romance, so he's sure that at least some of the footage of the two messing around will make it into the video, but it doesn't make him any less crazy. There's pink flower blossoms draped across the room, roses in pretty vases on corner tables, and a bunch of "romance games" for them to play. The lengths the company thinks they have to go for fanservice is crazy, Jisung thinks, when Changbin and Seungmin are right there, already giving them what they want. He knows the internet thinks he and Minho are the same, but Jisung just thinks that they're being the same as they've always been.

When staff finally gets everyone wrangled together enough to actually play another game, Jisung settles in across from Minho on the floor. They're guided to sit in a circle, the cameras getting rearranged so that everyone's face is in at least one shot, and he starts making faces at Jeongin (who's next to Minho) just to get a rise out of him. Jeongin's nose scrunches cutely, faux disdain written across his face, and Jisung giggles to himself, pleased. It's the little things, the little joys he gives to his members, that gets him through long days like this.

He only half-listens to staff instructions - the advantage of being the silly one is that he can mess up the rules and it looks like it's on purpose - until they're placing a pretty glass bottle in the center of the circle, and Jisung blinks. 

"I feel like a teenager again," Chan waxes sarcastically, eyes gleaming, "Do people even actually play spin the bottle?"

"Well, you were a teenager a really long time ago," Seungmin butts in, giving Chan a cheshire grin when he squawks indignantly, "Channie-hyung is so old, it only makes sense that his memory's going. I didn't realize dinosaurs even knew what spin the bottle is!"

"Kim Seungmin, be nice to your hyung!" Chan exclaims, and then points a finger at him, "That's it, it's decided! You go first."

Seungmin grumbles as Jeongin points and laughs, cackling at his misery.

He's not laughing for long, because Seungmin's spinning the bottle, and horror washes over his face when the top of the bottle slows to a stop on him. 

Are they really going to kiss on camera? Jisung wonders idly, wishing he had paid just a bit more attention earlier, that's wild, even for the company.

Jeongin is passed a box of Pepero, which he takes begrudgingly, and it clicks into place in Jisung's head that they're playing some hybrid of the two games. Thank god Chan hadn't volunteered him to go first.

Jeongin takes the bread part into his mouth and refuses to make eye contact with Seungmin as he leans in. The two of them are terrible sports, and Seungmin gets nowhere near Jeongin's lips before they're both pulling away, stiff and awkward. 

It's decided that everyone will go at least once, and Jisung realizes with a pout that he's going last, which means he's just going to sit here and watch everyone else almost kiss while his anxiety crawls up up up until he's practically shaking when it's his turn. Minho sends him a worried look, and Jisung hopes the smile he shoots him back is blinding and bright and not as strained and forced as it feels. 

Jisung is fine as the game goes on, enjoying watching the way his friends push and tease each other. When it's Minho's turn, though, something shifts in Jisung. His fingers itch to reach out and stop the bottle so that it lands on him, jolting at his side as the bottle spins and spins. He could play it off easily as a bit, knows that an exaggerated pout and a lot of whining can go a long way for him, but he stops himself. Why on Earth does he care who Minho plays with? It's just a game, a stupid childish one at that, so it shouldn't matter. Doesn't matter, he thinks, correcting his inner monologue. It doesn't matter at all.

Which is why there definitely isn't something bitter settling in Jisung's chest when the bottle lands on a too eager Chan, who's always just a little too touchy with Minho in the first place.

Jisung shakes himself out of it again. Chan is just as touchy with him, too, and Jisung revels in it. It doesn't matter, doesn't matter, doesn't matter-

Which is why his heart definitely doesn't drop to his ass when Chan and Minho's lips brush. It's a barely there touch, the moment lasting for barely a breath, but Jisung catches the way all the cameras zoom in, hears the way that everyone else oohs and aahs at them, poking fun. It's what Jisung should be doing. He realizes that he's probably been oddly quiet this episode, which would explain the worried look Minho sent him earlier, but he doesn't care. Not when there's a faint pink to Minho's ears, not when there's a bashful smile tugging at his lips, not when Chan looks so self-satisfied that Jisung thinks he might just rip his head off.

Woah. He needs to take a breath. Needs to get his shit together before the cameras catch him fuming, before Jisung does something stupid and loses his job forever. He really likes this job, after all.

He doesn't even realize they've made it to his turn, too focused on counting his breathing until it's steady and laughing when cued by the laughter of his members to realize they've made it through everyone else's turn. Everything is Minho Minho Minho, his heart thumping to the rhythm of his name on Jisung's tongue, and he blinks, wide-eyed, when Seungmin nudges him.

"Are you going to spin the bottle, or are you going to keep gawking at nothing?" He prompts, mean little puppy smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Seungmin's fingers brush his thigh, squeezing once, a grounding thing he does when he's worried but doesn't want to say it. The cameras will catch it as a tease, another thing to prod at Jisung, but he knows it's not. His feelings must be written all across his face for Seungmin, who often gets lost in his character when filming, to catch that Jisung is off.

"I'm going, I'm going," he huffs, leaning forward to reach for the bottle, "I was just thinking."

"There's a first time for everything," Changbin says, laughing when Jisung picks up the bottle and mimes hitting him with it, "Yah, alright, I'm sorry, hyung's sorry. Just spin the bottle already, huh?"

"Fine." Jisung says with a pout, slipping easily into his screen character, because he has to, or else he's going to lose it.

He makes eye contact with Minho as he spins the bottle, and there's…something, there. Jisung can't read it, but there's something. Concern, maybe? Minho can read Jisung even on his worst days, when Jisung is a closed book that refuses to open, so surely that must be it. Jisung leans back and lets the bottle spin, muttering some nonsense to fill the space because he has to be the funny one, has to be normal, has to be-

A hand reaches for the bottle and stops it. 

Jisung looks up, and Minho's looking down at his hand holding the bottle, almost like he can't believe it himself. Like the impulse that Jisung felt earlier had been passed on to him tenfold, so strong that even formidable Lee Minho couldn't control it. Jisung watches in real time the shift into character, the way Minho's face slips into something more playful, the way his little bunny teeth peek out as he grins coyishly at Jisung.

"C'mon Jisungie, don't you want to play with hyung?" Minho teases, grin stretching impossibly wider, "Hyung promises he's not up to something."

"We definitely believe you when you say it like that." Jeongin murmurs, and Felix giggles at the way Minho fakes innocence, blinking up at them through his lashes.

"I'm completely innocent," Minho says, amusement laced in his tone, "No one has ever been more innocent than me."

Someone passes Minho the Pepero box, and Jisung's vision tunnels. The blossom is there again, he can feel the roots wiggling through the concrete slats and reaching towards the sun. His fingers reach to rip it out, to yank until the flower crumples under his grasp, but then Minho is waggling his eyebrows with the Pepero between his teeth and Jisung is drifting across the circle like a moth to a flame. It's embarrassing, and he hopes the cameras miss the way his whole face softens as he gets closer to Minho.

"Those two." He hears someone say exasperatedly (Chan? Felix?), but he can't focus on them.

Minho grins around the Pepero, the candy held delicately between his teeth, and Jisung starts to bite. It's easy, and Jisung is comfortable with Minho, so he presses into his space without a second thought. One of his hands comes to cradle Minho's head, toying with the hair at the base of his neck. The other slips to his shoulder, steadying himself. He's so close now. Just a little more and I'll pull away, at least, that's what he tells himself, but it seems Minho has different plans. Because just as Jisung gets near the end of the chocolate, just when he's about to pull away, Minho's hands drift upwards, too quick for Jisung to catch until it's too late.

Minho presses his fingers into Jisung's side harshly, and Jisung, stupid stupid Jisung, falls forward in surprise.

The result is so much worse than a usual Pepero "kiss", because that's just the barest brush of feeling. This is a real kiss, the contact solid and full. Jisung's lips on Minho's, and Minho's lips on Jisung's. 

It's like he's hit with a rainstorm. It's no longer just a flower in his chest, it's a full bush, bristles and thorns and brambles tearing through his fragile heart as they explode inside of him. He pulls back with a gasp, and he realizes that there's no Pepero even left at all. He doesn't even know if he ate it, if Minho ate it, if maybe it's somewhere on the floor with the pieces of his heart.

"Minho-hyung," he wails instead, trying to hide the way that he surely must be bright red, "You cheater! That's against the rules, you pabo."

Jisung puts on his best pout and prays. Prays that they cut this part out, prays that the kiss was an accident, prays that the way that Minho's fingers are still loosely around his hips doesn't mean anything at all. He prays and prays and prays and the garden in his chest grows and grows and grows. 

He tells himself he'll cut it short again. Tells himself that he'll prune it eventually, because he knows Minho didn't mean it. Knows deep in his heart that his fate may be intertwined with Minho's, but it's not like that. 

It's only further reinforced that his garden must go when you show up.

It's late when Minho comes to his door. It's been years now, of moving and living around each other, and Jisung is endlessly grateful to have ended up paired up with Minho in their current dorms. He's never craved a space for himself - the silence of an empty house far worse than having to share his life with someone - and the duo dorm situation was made even better by the fact that he gets to live with his Minho hyung.

It's not abnormal for Minho to come by his room at night, to crawl into his bed and grab Jisung and hold him close, so close that Jisung's little garden grows a little bigger under the warmth of its Minho-shaped sun. What is abnormal is that fact that he knocked, a hesitant sound, like he's not even sure if he wants to come in himself.

"...yeah?" Jisung calls out, disbelief catching in his tone.

"Can I…can I come in?" Minho's voice echoes, muffled through the door.

"Obviously?" Jisung calls back, "When are you ever not allowed to come in?"

Jisung doesn't miss the way that hurt seeps into his own tone, making him feel immature. He has no right to be mad at Minho for not just barging in (honestly, he should be grateful that Minho's developed the sense to warn him before coming in) but it makes something weird settle in his gut. What could possibly be wrong that Minho is knocking, especially at this hour?

"Okay."

It takes a little too long for Minho to open the door, and Jisung studies him from his bed, curious. The low light of his lamp casts shadows across Minho's face, makes the sharp angles of his face even sharper, accentuates just how handsome Minho is, barefaced and soft. 

Minho pads over quietly, settles into the sheets next to Jisung. Instead of laying down like normal, he stays sitting, feet dangling over the edge of the bed. Alarms ring again in Jisung's head, but he keeps quiet, lets Minho move at his own pace. He knows his hyung is like a cat, easily startled and spooked away from opening up. Jisung isn't patient about many things, but if the roots in his chest are any indication, Jisung is endlessly patient about Minho.

"...I've started talking to someone."

Jisung blinks. Blinks again. Mulls the words over in his head. Nothing clicks. Why should Jisung care if Minho made a new friend? Why was Minho being weird, when he was doing such a normal thing?

"I'm not your keeper, hyung, you don't have to tell me every time you talk to someone new," Jisung says, wiggling up to sit next to Minho, pressing his thigh lightly to his hyung's, "Not that I mind you telling me! I'm glad you trust me with your everyday life, hyung. But seriously, I think it'd be weird if I cared who you talk to, huh?"

Minho flinches and curls in on himself, swallowing hard. Jisung wants to lean in and bite his Adam's apple, wants to curl himself around Minho until they fuse into one.

"No, Jisung, you don't get it," Minho says again, firmer this time, "I started talking to someone."

And just as quickly as Jisung felt the warmth of the sun, it's stolen away from him in a breath. 

He thinks he's drowning. And floating. And doing nothing and everything all at once. The feeling that sweeps him is overwhelming in its force, a tsunami and an earthquake and a tornado and everything everything everything until Jisung is nothing but dust in the wind.

"...oh." He responds lamely, because he doesn't know how else to respond, without opening the garden gates to Minho.

"Oh? That's all you have to say?" Minho teases, though Jisung can hear the vulnerability behind it, "No 'I'm happy for you hyung'? No 'who is it, hyung'? C'mon jagiya, I expected better from you."

"I'm happy for you, hyung," Jisung grits out, robotic, still spinning-drowning-floating, "Who is it?"

Minho says your name, and Jisung parrots it, feels the weight of it on his tongue. He wonders in that moment if he can ever meet someone with your name again without the bitter taste of bile filling his mouth like it is right now. Wonders if Minho can read the sourness on his face, if he can taste it in his words.

Minho opens up easily, like he can't feel the way that Jisung's gone stiff next to him. He tells Jisung how you met (in the cat cafe Minho's been wanting to go to), how you're just the sweetest, how you remember the little things without Minho even having to say a word. How you read him so easily, how everything is so easy around you, how he's sure that Jisung would love you. 

The brambles in his chest get sharper, meaner, a blooming red warmth bleeding into Jisung's chest. He's going to throw up and cry and scream all at once as he watches Minho's face get soft and shy, talking about how he's going to ask you out soon.

"Sungie, how would you want to be asked out?" Minho asks, sincerity in his voice, pretty eyes glistening in the low light as he turns to look up at Jisung.

Jisung thinks for a moment, lets himself dream. Imagines him and Minho, somewhere warm, somwhere comfortable. Curled up in the comfort of Minho's bed, a Ghibli movie that Jisung insisted on watching playing on his computer in front of them. Fingers loosely tangled under the blanket, skin pressed to exposed skin like a secret. Minho's voice, soft and nervous, telling Jisung he wants to ask him something. The music building in the background as Minho leans close, tells him he loves him-

"I'd want it to be personal," Jisung admits, voice sounding just as broken as he feels, "Somewhere where we both feel safe. Curled up in your bed, or under the stars, or tucked away in some private little place where it feels like it's just us. And then I'd just want you to be honest. Tell me straight up how you feel, seal the deal with a kiss, you know, the whole nine yards."

Minho watches him with the kind of scrutinty that makes Jisung shrink. Why does he feel like he's the one under the microscope, when he should be grilling Minho about his mystery talking stage? Why does it feel like that answer wasn't what Minho wanted?

"You really don't care? That I'm talking to someone?" Minho asks, quiet, lip catching between his teeth in a way that makes Jisung want to lean forward and soothe the skin with his tongue.

"Why would I, hyung?" Jisung chokes out, vines and thorns filling his lungs, "I want you to be happy. If they make you happy, then I'm happy."

His mouth tastes like copper and bile, and for some reason his little garden just keeps to grow. He shouldn't want Minho anymore - he can't want Minho anymore - and yet that feeling continues to grow. He still leans towards his sun, because he can't help himself, and he craves whatever warmth he can get.

He meets you for the first time and it just makes the space in his chest fill even more.

Because you are perfect for Minho. You know how to match his witty sarcasm, you don't let his digs get to you, you tease him back so easily that Jisung wonders how there ever was in Minho before you. The two of you are made for each other, your own fates woven together in the universe just as Minho's and Jisung's, and Jisung doesn't even have it in him to feel jealousy.

The worst part is that you're endlessly sweet to him, too.

"Jisung, right? I've heard so much about you," you had told him, bringing him into a hug like it was only natural, "You're the soulmate, yeah?"

And it's just so easy from there on out. Minho had been right that night, because Jisung did love you. It was begrudgingly at first - Jisung didn't want to like you, not when you stole his Minho away from him - but soon something else began to grow in his chest, another delicate flower, the kind that has to strain just to catch the sunlight. But it leans around the overgrowth in his heart somehow, gets just enough sun to push through the weeds and the thorns. 

People started asking Jisung where you and Minho were, because they assumed he would just know. It had always been Minho and Jisung, and somehow now it had become Minho and Jisung and you overnight. He always felt bad that he was around all the time, but the two of you were almost insistent that he comes along to things. Howl's is re-running in the theater downtown? You already got three tickets for Friday night without even asking if he's free. The cat cafe is doing a crossover deal with the boba store next door? Minho's waking him up at an ungodly hour in the morning and telling him to get dressed and get ready to go, loser. Minho wants feedback on choreography? You and Jisung are holed up with him in a practice room until the sun's peeking over the horizon, despite the fact that Minho should really be asking Hyunjin or Felix these questions, not the two of you. Amongst all of it, Minho still calls him jagiya, like it's a completely normal thing to call your roommate in front of your partner. 

Jisung stopped calling him it back. 

The second flower becomes its own bush soon too. Jisung's given up on pruning the feelings in his heart, given up on trying to tame whatever desire curls in his chest because it's all forbidden anyways. He can't have Minho, he can't have you, but he can want. So he wants and wants and wants, until there's a whole ecosystem making home in his chest and his stomach. Butterflies swirl in his stomach, birds sing love songs in his ears, and the brambles close tighter and tighter around his heart.

Being between the two of you becomes habit, a new normal that Jisung wasn't prepared for. The two of you curl around him when you're watching a movie on the couch like it's second nature, like it's only natural that you're sandwiching your boyfriend's best friend between you on your date. Minho's breath is warm on the back of his neck, and you're splayed across Jisung's lap, toying with the string of his hoodie absentmindedly - really, how was he ever supposed to control his beating heart when the two of you just add fuel to the fire? Or water to the soil, he supposes, the vines curling tighter around his heart when you snort at something on screen and he feels it move through the three of you.

A second breaking point is reached when Chan, his sweet, perfect hyung, pulls him aside to talk one day in the studio.

"Dude, I'm so happy for you and Minho, but you guys need to be a little more…subtle," Chan tells him, refusing to let Jisung open his notebook until they've 'had a little talk', "Seriously, we can't keep cover for you guys anymore. Minho got caught with their tongue down his throat the other day in a dance studio, do you know how much paperwork I had to do after that? I'm so happy for you guys - really, I am! - but you guys literally have your own dorm to do…those kinds of things in."

"Like Seungmin and Changbin weren't down each other's throats yesterday after recording," Jisung deadpans, "And dude, what in the world are you talking about? Why are you talking to me about what they get up to?"

"Because you are their boyfriend?" Chan says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "And somehow you've managed to avoid getting caught by staff so. You must be doing something right, and I need you to get the other two to uhhhh…'lock in', I guess?"

Jisung blue screens, staring at Chan with his mouth wide open. His jaw might as well actually be on the floor. Pollen explodes in his chest, greedy flowers spreading more and more and more, and Jisung thinks he must be dreaming. 

Chan looks at him nervously, scratching at his neck, "Sorry, I should've worded that better, Sung-ah. But if your partners don't stop making out all over the god damn building, I'm going to start making you guys do all the paperwork."

"They're not- we're not-" Jisung stammers, looking at Chan with wide eyes, "Channie-hyung, what?"

Chan looks just as confused as Jisung feels. He squints at Jisung like he's the crazy one, like he's the one who just said that he's dating his best friend and said best friend's partner, not Chan. Chan's mouth works itself into a confused little line, and then Chan speaks slowly, like he's talking to a spooked beast.

"I'm asking the three of you to please stop being…so public about your guys' relationship," Chan says, trailing off like it's a question, not a statement, "...please? We are idols, after all."

"Hyung that's not- hyung, I'm not questioning you because of that." Jisung replies, still reeling.

"What else could you possibly be questioning?" Chan says, a confused laugh slipping out of his mouth, "Jisung-ah, are you okay?"

"Hyung, I'm not with them." 

Silence catches in the air, swells, fills the space until it's almost suffocating. It fills his lungs until he's taking quick little gasping breaths, just enough air to survive but not so much that it fills his lungs, puts pressure on the tangle of thorns buried in his chest. 

"...are you being serious?" Chan splits the silence in to, sliding his chair closer to Jisung so that he can press a hand to Jisung's arm, "You guys aren't- you arent…?"

Jisung shakes his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and Chan at least has the decency to look embarrassed.

"Shit, I'm sorry…I just thought…" He trails off, studying Jisung's face carefully, "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but when did you and Minho-yah…break up? Hyung's always here for you, you don't have to deal with this alone anymore."

Jisung can't stop the tears this time. They freefall down his cheeks, dig rivers into his skin, burning hot as they warm his face. He doesn't even know why he's crying, why he's so surprised that Chan thought he and Minho were together, why the fact that everyone thought so and it still wasn't true hurt so much more than these past months have. Chan is such a good hyung, pulling him closer without making him say a word. He cradles Jisung to his chest, lets Jisung cling to him like a second skin until his hoodie is covered in tears and snot, and carefully picks him up when Jisung's sobs start to become weak little hiccups instead. Brings them both to the couch and holds him impossibly close, lets Jisung shake in his arms and doesn't say a word. It's the softness that Jisung's been missing, that he hasn't been allowing himself to have from Minho, that breaks him. The little thread that's been holding him together, that's kept the jungle in his chest from swallowing him whole, snaps all together in the safety of Chan's embrace.

Because Chan is right. Some little part of Jisung knows that. He knows that it's Minho and Jisung and you, not Minho and you, and that it feels so right to him. He knows that if he were to butt out of your relationship, if he were to give the two of you space and withdraw, that you would both pull him right back in. It's not an unfair assumption for Chan to make, and that's what makes this so much worse.

"Minho-hyung and I were never together in the first place," Jisung murmurs into Chan's hoodie, once words are something he can access again, "I thought you all knew that."

Chan stays silent, letting Jisung fill the space, and Jisung's endlessly grateful for his perfect, patient hyung, who really had better things to do than comfort him right now. The world is on Chan's shoulders, and yet he still finds space for Jisung's love life problems to rest there, too. 

"I know we all joked about it a lot, about hyung and I," Jisung says, voice wobbling a bit as he continues, "But that's all it's ever been. Jokes. Minho-hyung came and talked to me about asking them out months ago, and that's as involved in their relationship as I've been."

He doesn't acknowledge the bitterness seeping through his tone, or the way that the two of you tote him around like he's your dog or something. Is that what he is to the two of you? A little parasite that the two of you can't help but love? Something they keep around out of pity, or maybe for your own sick amusement?

Chan butts in before Jisung can spiral too far, squeezing him a little tighter, "I'm sorry I assumed. I just…"

He pauses, rolls his tongue in his mouth, like he's not sure he's allowed to speak his mind. Jisung pulls back to peer up at him, and Chan's forehead is creased and his eyes are avoidant, like he's considering saying something he's not supposed to.

"It's okay hyung, I won't be offended by whatever you're going to say." Jisung tells him, even though he's definitely lying. He will be offended, or hurt, or embarrassed, or whatever Chan's worried about. He just won't do it in front of Chan.

Chan sends him a look, like he knows Jisung's a big fat liar, but continues on anyways, hesitance laced through his tone. 

"Minho said something…a year or so ago, I think, that made me think that the two of you were together, is all," Chan says, voice tight like he's spilling a secret, "And you're so…close to both of them. I'm probably not supposed to tell you this, but Felix has money on you being the one to ask both of them out."

"What was your money on, hyung-ah?" Jisung says, because his coping mechanism will always, always be humor, and there is something at least slightly amusing about watching the tips of Chan's ears go red and his eyes go a little wide.

"Jisung, I would never-"

"Hyung."

Chan's lip catches between his teeth and his eyes look anywhere but Jisung's. "...I had money on you asking Minho out."

Jisung cackles (can Chan tell it's a little hollow? He hopes not) and Chan has the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"Minho didn't make a move for years, I assumed you were the one who reached the breaking point and just told him!" Chan defended, frowning when Jisung starts to giggle, "Or wrote him a song and did some cheesy little guitar thing for him. We both know Minho's a bit of a secret romantic, and it's no secret that you are. Stop laughing at me, Han Jisung!"

Jisung can't. His giggles explode into real laughter, shaking him and Chan until he can't breathe. He can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe until the laughter turns into hiccuping sobs all over again, because it hurts. 

Chan's little confession opens a jar of "what if"s that Jisung's kept tightly closed in the back of his mind, buried under his other responsibilities so he couldn't touch it. But Chan has wrangled it out, because Jisung is a romantic, a hopeless one at that, and he's pictured it a million times.

He tells Minho he does care that he's asking someone out. He pulls him close and tells him that he's in love with him, that he can't let Minho ask someone else out because he should be asking Jisung instead. Minho looks up at him with those pretty, sparkling eyes, lips parted, and breathlessly tells Jisung to kiss him. Jisung reels back, blinks at him like he's crazy, pinches himself for good measure (and to hear Minho's pretty, exasperated laugh), and then swoops in. Fireworks, butterflies, an entire god damn fourth of July burns inside of him. Minho's lips are softer than he could ever imagine, and he tastes so sweet against Jisung. Minho's little rabbit fingers curl into Jisung's shirt and pull him closer, and Jisung melts into him. His own hands find Minho's hips, and then his tongue is brushing Minho's lip, and-

Jisung smacks his cheeks a few times, snapping himself back into reality. He's in Chan's lap, in the studio, and very much still single. No amount of daydreaming, no matter how vivid it feels, will change that fact. He's also pretty sure he's going to have to buy Chan a new hoodie with how much snot and tears are now embedded into the shoulder and the chest of it. 

The studio session is cancelled for the day as Chan brings him back to his dorm. Jisung insists that he can go back to his own dorm, that he's perfectly fine, thank you, but Chan refuses to let him go. He keeps some sort of contact with Jisung the whole way home - a hand on his shoulder, a pinky linked through his, a thigh pressed against his in the car - and Jisung lets himself float, knowing that Chan has him tethered. He hopes this doesn't mean Chan's going to have to push himself tomorrow, to make up for the work lost today. He hopes, as Chan punches in the code, that he hasn't just become another burden on another person today, another weight that someone feels obligated to lug around out of the kindness of their heart. 

Jeongin's in the kitchen when the two of them press in, and he greets them kindly, not making a single comment on the obvious snot-tear smear on Chan's hoodie or the way that Jisung's eyes are red-red-red and puffy. He just pours Jisung a cup of tea, fresh from a kettle he must've been brewing, and tells the two of them sweetly that he'll be in his room if they need him. He grabs his own mug and pads off quietly, not without another small, kind smile back to the two of them.

He sleeps in Chan's bed that night, held close to his hyung, who helps him in the only way he knows how. He doesn't breathe a word of it after Jisung leaves the next morning, so Jisung's back to tending his overgrown, weed-filled garden alone. He doesn't water it - doesn't have to, when the two of you are around all the time to do it for him - and still it tears open his chest. He spends his days feeling raw and red, his heart an open wound that bleeds and bleeds everyday but still fails to kill him. His songs get sadder and sadder, until Changbin (who hasn't asked, but can certainly tell that something's up) tells him that he's banned from song-writing until, quote, "he stops writing K-dramas and starts writing music we can actually play without getting sent to a therapist, man". He's sure Changbin's just trying to help, trying to get him to stop hyperfixating on the pain so he can move on, but no songwriting means he has nothing to hide behind. 

It means that he's about to reach his third and final breaking point, almost a full, painful month after Chan cornered him in the studio.

It starts like every other night for Jisung - his glasses are askew on his face, his guitar is perched across his lap, and his fingers are calloused and raw from playing for hours. His stubbornness has had him drowning in playing his guitar lately (writing songs on his guitar is technically not the songwriting Changbin banned him from, Jisung reasons with himself), his bedroom door closed and the only light illuminating his sorrow from the LED lights lining the perimeter of the room. They've been set to a melancholy blue, a deep, dark color that makes him feel like he's underwater. Everything has been muffled lately, like the music in an underwater stage of the video games Jisung can't even convince himself to pick up anymore these days. The world around him warps and bends, a blurring whirlpool that's pulling him under until all he can taste is saltwater on his tongue. There's no one left to save him, not when he refuses to be saved. 

He tastes it now, his mouth full of saltwater, as he plucks aimlessly at his guitar again. He feels the chords under his skin, the vibration of the guitar against him strong enough for him to feel in his bones, but he can't hear it. His fingers move on autopilot - a I-V-vi-IV chord structure, like a true yearning artist (he hopes Noah Kahan is proud) - and words pour out of his mouth, a broken warble that doesn't reach his own ears. He doesn't even know if he's singing in tune. He distantly finds that he doesn't have it in him to care anymore. 

The sound fills the room, bouncing off the walls, and Jisung feels his voice getting louder and louder, sadder and sadder, until he's in a chamber of his own wallowing. He opens his chest and lets the flowers bloom and grow out of it, wrapping around his waist and his throat and all the way down his fingers until they're the one playing the song, not him. There's fruit growing on the bushes in his garden, glistening and red, but they're wrapped in thorns. Jisung's fingers bleed as he reaches and stretches for them, so hungry for even a taste that he ignores the pain, the way that his own feelings are tearing him apart, for even a chance to feel the sweetness on his tongue, to drown out the saltwater that fills his mouth. He wants and wants and wants and wants and-

And his bedroom door is creaking open without his permission, and the hallway light is blinding, and Jisung wonders if there's an angel leaning through the door, if this is finally the end for him. The light halos around their head, and Jisung thinks it's the most beautiful thing that his eyes have ever seen, and then they're pressing into the room, and oh, there's two of them, pretty and soft and worry crinkled in their eyes.

His fingers stop, his voice cracks and breaks, and he lets the two of you guide him out of the room. You take his guitar gently out of his hands, putting it back on its stand as Minho guides him to stand. No words are spoken, not out of awkwardness, but out of the fact that the three of you don't really need words. He knows what this is, and so do the two of you.

There's fairy lights neatly strung up around the living room, his favorite blanket on the couch, the stupid dinosaur squishmallow that Jisung had been eyeing everytime you guys go to the store perched on top of the blanket, and his favorite snacks are in bowls across the coffee table. The TV is already pulled up to Grave of the Fireflies, a box of tissues sitting on the side table, and Jisung thinks quietly he might already need them.

Because the two of you don't even know. You don't even know how much he needed this. How much he wishes he didn't. How much the two of you haunt every moment of his every day. The shadows in his room look like you, the clouds spell Minho's name, the wind whispers in the tone of your voices, and his dreams are plagued with phantoms in the shape of you and Minho, swirling around him and taunting him.

You don't know that you're the cause of Jisung's pain, and his saving grace from it. You soothe the very wound that you cut into him, and he can't help but lean into your blade, even when it burns, because in this moment, everything feels lighter. He feels like he can hear again - the whir of the A/C, the low sound of the movie trailer that started auto-playing, the way that Minho's breathing is just a little faster than normal because he's worried, the way you pad back down the hallway to join the two of them in the living room - and that's what crushes him.

He tastes the salt on his tongue again, and he doesn't even realize it's real until Minho's letting out a soft little "Oh, bug" from next to him and wiping the tears from his cheeks with the gentlest of touches. You slip past the two of them to sit on the couch, sliding under the blanket and patting the space next to you expectantly. 

Jisung lets himself be led to the couch, lets the blanket be draped over him, lets the stuffed dinosaur get passed into his arms, lets the two of you sandwich him between you like it's second nature, lets you curl up into his shoulder, lets Minho's fingers lace through his. He lets the tears keep flowing, lets you softly dab them away with a tissue, he lets the two of you do whatever you want to him, because a part of him knows that it's his place. That, even if it's not your truth, that his truth is that he belongs to the two of you, through and through.

"Minho," you murmur, with a meaning that Jisung can't read, "Minho, I know we said tonight, but-"

"No," he interjects, voice sharp but still kind, "It has to be tonight."

Silence opens its jaws and swallows the room whole, letting the three of you settle in its gut until Jisung feels like he's going to snap. His tongue is his own again, a steady weight in his mouth that he can finally, finally control, and he speaks up before he can stop himself.

"Please don't speak around me in codes, I don't think I can take that tonight," Jisung says wetly, letting himself look at both of you weakly, "I'm just - actually, can I go first? Before the two of you try and speak in riddles I don't understand again like I'm some stupid baby?"

"We don't think you're a stupid baby," you say quietly, hurt in your tone, just as Minho says:

"Hey, only I'm allowed to call you stupid, jagi."

"Stop calling me that!" Jisung snaps, wiggling his way out from between you both and finding his feet again, "Can the two of you stop? Can't you see that you're the reason I'm acting like this?"

He accompanies the statement with an accusatory jab of his finger in your direction, and the two of you both look up at him with wide eyes. There's a pain in both of your faces, though Minho's face hardens back into something neutral quickly. Jisung knows it's a defense mechanism, knows it's the only one that Minho has, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. Your face crumples as Jisung's curls into something angry and broken, your lower lip caught between your teeth and your fingers awkwardly fiddling in your lap, and the vines tighten around his lungs. He thinks he's going to choke if he doesn't spit it out right now, so he does. Everything that he's been holding in for months (or for years, in regards to Minho) comes spewing out of his mouth, red-hot and angry. He feels like a trainee again, tongue sharp and mean, his emotions too big for someone who feels so small to keep inside.

"It's not fair, okay?" he sobs out, swallowing his tears before they trip up his words, "It's not fair. Do you know how hard it is to watch the person you're in love with fall in love with someone else? Do you know how hard it is to fall for them, too? To watch the two of you fall in love like some sort of drama leads and I'm here on the outside, left to rot? I tried to accept that I'm just the funny side character, the comic relief friend who never gets to find love of his own because that's not what he's here for, but I can't anymore. Hyung, I've been in love with you for years, for probably longer than I even knew myself, and I can't keep pretending I'm not."

He takes a deep, shaking breath, giving both of you a glare that neither of you deserve, before continuing, "So leave me out of it. I'm happy for you both, because I love you both. There, I said it: I love you both. I love you both so much that it's consuming me whole. And I know there's no place for it here, that I'm just your stupid little best friend that you tote around like a god damn chihuahua in a purse, so the 'pity Han Jisung' party can end, alright? I don't want to be in the middle of whatever the hell this is anymore. I'm done. Leave me out of your relationship, leave me out of your stupid fucking drama love, and leave me the fuck alone. I'm tired. Tired, tired, tired. Tired of this, tired of my feelings, tired of you. I'm going to go back to my room, and the two of you are going to leave me alone. Got it?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, just turns around and storms off, ignoring your voices and slamming his door behind him and, for the first time in his many years of living with Minho, locking the door. The click! echoes in his room like an execution bell. Here marks the end of Han Jisung, it rings, fool who fell in love with his best friends. He finds his noise-cancelling headphones, pulls them on, and blares the playlist that he pretends isn't about the two of you loud enough to drown out his own thoughts. It doesn't really work, but he tries to pretend it does as he crawls into his bed and cries. The tears are silent, the sobs shaking his body quietly but never letting any sound escape him. His chest is wide open and bleeding and he's let himself bare it to the two of you. Chan was right - Jisung did snap and confess, though it didn't quite go the way it probably did in their heads. He wonders if Felix and Chan should both get their money anyways, wonders if anyone had any bets on them not being together. The thought has his chest feeling tighter, and Jisung lets the pressure crack his ribs and enclose his lungs, until he feels like he's barely got any room left to breathe.

He doesn't hear the knocking on the door, doesn't hear your voices calling his name, doesn't hear the way that someone's fiddling with the lock until it's too late, and light is spilling into his room from the hallway again.

He rolls over and sits up to hiss something angry out again, to spit venom on the two of you so you just leave him alone, but he can't when he sees your faces. 

There's tear tracks on your cheeks, and there's snot on the sleeve of the hoodie you're wearing. Your eyes are puffy, and you're sniffling like you're trying to hold the tears back. They keep falling anyways, silently, just like Jisung's, and his ribs crack for a different reason now. He realizes that hoodie you're wearing is his, and the pressure in his chest makes his lip wobble.

What really breaks him is Minho's face. There's a panic there, a wildness in his eyes that Jisung has never seen before. There's a bent bobby pin pressed tightly between his fingers (did Minho pick the lock?), and Minho, strong, steel-faced Minho, has tear tracks on his cheeks too, glistening in the low light of Jisung's room like a confession. He's heaving, big, heavy breaths wracking his whole body, and there's a tremble to him that makes Jisung want to pull him close and remind him to breathe, jagi, breathe. 

"Jagiya, my jagiya," Minho says, bobby pin dropped and forgotten as he crosses the room in three big strides, "My Jisung, my soulmate, my everything."

He pulls Jisung in before he can even say a word, before he can unpack a single thing that Minho just said, and squeezes him so tight that Jisung thinks he might pop like a balloon. 

Minho's arms feel like coming home, like the sun on his skin again after a long, grey winter, like the smell of homemade cooking after tour. Jisung knows he shouldn't, knows that Minho's only here because he was worried, because Jisung is a burden that he thinks he must carry, but he lets Minho embrace him anyways, because he's greedy. His own arms come to wrap around Minho tightly because he can't help himself, can't help but crave what he's been denying himself for so long.

He doesn't hear you coming, just feels you drape yourself across his back, feels your warmth against his skin and your face buried in his shoulder. Everything clicks back into place, and Jisung feels complete. He tastes the sweetness on his tongue that he's been reaching for, like fresh-picked strawberries on a hot summer day. It's cruel, how he can only feel himself when he's surrounded by the two of you. But if the two of you are willing to give him what he wants, if only for a moment in time, Jisung isn't going to complain.

"...did you really think that we didn't want you?" Minho says quietly, when the silence has settled for a beat too long to be comfortable, his words muffled against the fabric of Jisung's too-big hoodie.

Jisung freezes, a mouse in the coils of a snake, trapped between the two of you with no way to escape. Words fail him, and you must be able to tell, because you speak up too, pulling your face off of him in a way that has your breath tickling his ear.

"Jisung, why do you think that we invite you everywhere? That we take you on our dates, that we refuse to go to places without you, that we cuddle with you on the couch during movie nights?" You ask, like it's crazy that Jisung would ever consider a world where he wasn't important to you both.

"...because I'm your best friend, and you feel bad for my single ass?" He responds, though it sounds stupid, even to him.

"Pabo," Minho breathes, "We love you too. So much more than you could ever know."

"Did you know that when he asked if I wanted to go out on a date with him, that he said we couldn't officially start dating until I was 'Han Jisung approved?'" you say with a little laugh, one that Jisung feels all the way through his whole body, "We didn't officially start dating until after that first time we met. You've always been the most important person in his life, and you become one of the most important people in my life, too. We've been trying to ask you out for like, months now. Someone kept pussying out, though, so-"

"Hey!" Minho whines, popping his chin up on Jisung's shoulder to pout at you, "You could've asked him out too, you know-"

"You said you wanted to do it, I didn't want to steal your thunder!" You retorted, leaning around to stick your tongue out at Minho, "Plus, you've known him for longer, it's only fair-"

"It's not fair, you just didn't want to do it yourself-"

"You guys love me?" Jisung interrupts, his brain finally catching up, "Oh my god. You guys actually love me?"

The two of you stop bickering, and the sudden weight of both of your eyes on him makes him want to shrink into a little ball and cease existing. 

"Obviously."

"Duh."

The two of you say it at the same time, like he's the idiot for not knowing, and Jisung laughs. He laughs and laughs until he's out of breath. The two of you must think he's a madman, but you let him get it out, let him catch his breath and speak again without interjecting. The way the two of you leave space for his emotions has Jisung feeling all sorts of ways, but it's not the time for him to lament or wax poetry about how much he appreciates how the two of you treat him.

Right now, he's going to get Chan and Felix that god damn money, please and thank you.

"Go out with me," Jisung says, voice far more steady and confident than he feels, "Both of you. I'm in love with you, and you're in love with me, and I was the one who had the balls to say anything in the first place, so I get to ask you both out, actually."

"Yeah, I suppose that's fair," you say jokingly, though you sound out of breath, "Obviously, we say yes."

"Hey now, don't speak for me," Minho says, and you raise an eyebrow at him, "Okay, well, obviously the answer is yes, I just wanted to say it too. Yes, Han Jisung, we'll go out with you."

"Always stealing my thunder." You joke, before curling around Jisung to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Before Jisung can whine about being left out (despite being sandwiched between you two), Minho pulls away and looks him once in the eyes before leaning in and capturing his lips in a kiss.

Jisung had been right - fireworks explode behind his eyes, and the thorns stabbing his heart retract to let it beat freely again. Minho tastes like the strawberry chapstick he pretends to hate, and his lips are so soft that Jisung wants to glue himself to Minho's lips forever, to kiss him and kiss him and then kiss him again until the end of time. 

And he would, had he not felt you shifting around him, felt the bed dip in front of him and Minho. He feels Minho pull away, whining at the loss of his lips, but they're quickly replaced by yours, and oh, you're so much more aggressive than Minho. There's no doubt who's dominating the kiss, your mouth rough and fast against his, and when your tongue swipes across his bottom lip, he lets you in willingly. Minho's now pressed between you both, and Jisung feels him squirm a bit. If Jisung opened his eyes he would catch the way your hand finds the back of Minho's throat and gives him a warning squeeze. Instead, he feels Minho go slack against him, a quiet sound escaping his throat, and it's almost too much for Jisung.

He hasn't touched another person since he realized his feelings for Minho. Well, he had tried, once, with a kind hyung with pretty eyes and an even prettier mouth, but he had barely let the hyung put his cock in his mouth before Jisung had to pull away, apologizing over and over as the hyung assured him it was "fine" if he "wasn't in the mood". Jisung didn't have the heart to tell him that he was picturing someone else and was feeling guilty, so he had just apologized again and bolted. A celibacy created by his own mind was torture, and it also meant that Jisung hadn't been touched in so long.

Which is why, when Minho's hand shifts to where Jisung's already straining against his sweatpants, Jisung lets out an embarrassingly loud whimper into your mouth and bucks up his hips so hard that it nearly knocks you and Minho back. Had it not been for your steadying hand against Minho's back, it probably would've, but Jisung doesn't need to know that. He pulls back from your mouth, face red and eyes bashful, but you don't let him get far, your free hand coming around to cup his chin before he can curl away from you.

"Don't be embarrassed, jagiya," you coo, delighted in the way the petname makes him shiver in your hold, "Let us show you just how much we love you."

Minho nods eagerly, looking up at Jisung with pretty, blown-out eyes, pupils swallowing his irises already, and Jisung shakes off your grip to grab the collar of Minho's shirt and pull him into a bruising kiss. Minho makes a surprised sound and you let out a breathless chuckle at the way he instantly melts against Jisung, already pliant and soft and Jisung and you haven't even done anything yet, not really. 

You shift to properly press against Minho's back, snaking a hand around his front to paw at his crotch. He's already hard, which is to be expected from your sensitive baby, and Jisung swallows the sound he makes as you apply just the right amount of pressure to tease him. Enough for him to feel, but not nearly enough for him to properly get off. The touch is just to work him up and you both know it, to get him needy and desperate so that he begs all pretty. This might be to show Jisung how much you both love him, but a part of you wants to show off Minho a little bit too, to show Jisung what he gets to have whenever he wants now.

Jisung pulls back and presses a hand to Minho's chest to keep him from chasing after him, drawing another long whine out of Minho. Minho looks a mess already, cheeks and ears a blooming bright pink, hair ruffled and out of place, and his eyes already starting to glaze over.

"Look at you," Jisung says, awe tingeing his voice, "Even prettier than I could ever imagine."

"Isn't he?" You coo, voice endlessly fond, "He'll be so good for us, won't you, baby?"

The English petname sounds good on your tongue, and both Minho and Jisung shiver when you say it. You grin, so saccharine sweet that it's almost a little mean, and Minho nods quickly, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"I will, I'll be so good for you both." He whimpers, and Jisung curses quietly, already overwhelmed by how easily his hyung folded under no pressure.

"Is he always so easy?" Jisung asks, which he would feel bad for asking if Minho didn't whine all pretty when he did.

"Mhm," you hum, still palming Minho ever-so slowly, "Isn't that right, Min? Just so easy for us, aren't you? Why don't you tell him what you did earlier, hm?"

Minho flushes impossibly redder, the blush spreading all the way down his neck and past the collar of his shirt, head tipping back to rest on your shoulder. He shakes his head twice, embarrassed, and you squeeze his cock in retaliation.

"C'mon now, tell Sungie what you did," you say, though it sounds far more like a command than a statement, "Tell him how naughty and dirty his hyung is."

"Yeah, Minho-hyung, you said you would be good," Jisung says, feeling bold and he presses forward into Minho's space, fingers dancing up his thigh, "Won't you be good for us?"

Minho, clearly not expecting Jisung to be so forward, moans out loud, eyes rolling back a bit before shyly staring up at Jisung.

"Hyung, uhm…" Minho trails off, clearly embarrassed, but presses on when Jisung's fingers dig into his thigh, "Hyung opened himself up earlier, because-hngh-because he was hoping you would…hopingyouwouldfillhimuplater."

He says it so fast Jisung almost misses it, so fast it almost felt like he imagined it.

"I don't think he heard you Min, I think you need to say it again," you say, pressing a kiss to the exposed column of Minho's throat, "Right, Sungie?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jisung agrees, even though he certainly heard it, "Hyung's not being very good right now."

"'m sorry, sorry Sungie," Minho pants out, hips bucking up as you increase the pressure on his clothed cock, "I-ahn! I opened myself up earlier, b-because I was hoping you might-hah, shit-might fuck me later."

"Good boy." Jisung coos, hands sliding up to grip at Minho's hips as he leans forward and kisses Minho as a reward.

You weren't expecting Jisung to so easily take a dominant role with Minho, but you're certainly not complaining, loving the way that Jisung keeps Minho's hips from bucking into your touch as he presses his tongue into Minho's mouth. You watch with lidded eyes as they make out in front of you, Minho's back pressed to your chest and his cock pulsing under your hand.

You realize that the focus has been on Minho's pleasure, not Jisung's like it was supposed to be, and quickly search to find a remedy for it. You remove your hand from Minho's clothed cock (much to his chagrin) and untangle your arm from around Minho to tap at Jisung's shoulder. He pulls back from Minho's mouth, a string of spit connecting the two of them as he pulls away, and you resist the urge to kiss him silly to sneak your fingers under Minho's shirt and lift it. 

Jisung helps you guide Minho's arms up so you can slip the shirt off of him, eyes wandering down the sharp curves of Minho's upper body appreciatively. His fingers trace up from his hips across his abs and chest, teasing brushing past Minho's nipples just to watch him arch into the touch. 

"As much as I love watching Sung play with your tits, I think I want to get to the main course," you murmur, "Let's get you out of these pants so you can get that fucking you wanted, okay jagi?"

Jisung groans out loud at your vulgarity, but scooches back to give Minho room to kick his pants off. He fumbles frantically, already so needy that his fingers are shaky, but he manages to pull both his pants and underwear off and toss them across the room. They land somewhere on the floor, but Jisung doesn't have time to care about where his pants ended up, because Minho's cock slaps wetly against his abs, and oh, he's just so pretty. 

His tip is a pretty pink, flushed a bit darker with need, and he's just the perfect size for Jisung to want to shove his cock down his throat. Not too fat and not too long, just the perfect length for Jisung to feel but not to choke on. He wants to feel him on his tongue, wants Minho to cry as he fucks into Jisung's mouth desperately, begging to be allowed to come. Jisung wants to edge him with his mouth until Minho can barely form words, wants you to force Jisung's head down and hold him still, force him to breath through his nose while Minho tries not to buck into the heat of Jisung's lips around him.

"I want to suck you off," Jisung says dumbly, almost drooling while looking at Minho's cock, "Can I? Can I put your pretty cock in my mouth, Minho-yah?"

Jisung dropping the honorifics makes Minho moan, a broken sound that catches in his throat, and Minho nods frantically back.

"Want that so bad," he breathes out, desperate eyes searching Jisung's face, "Wan' it, wan' your mouth, please? Please Sungie, want-"

You shush him, shaking your head, "It's not about what you want, Min. Plus, I don't think that's what you should be calling him, hmm?"

You say it like you know something, something that Jisung doesn't, because he watches with interest as Minho's eyes go wide and his head snaps to the side to look at you pleadingly. He shakes his head minutely, and you grin like a wolf, nodding once, firmly. Minho's eyes squeeze shut, the flush crawling even further down his chest, his lips pursing like he's trying not to cry. Jisung wants to bite him so hard he bruises, wants to kiss you senseless for making Minho look like this.

Unceremoniously, you shove Minho forward, and he lands with a quiet oof! against Jisung, face pressed into Jisung's chest. Jisung catches him by the shoulders, and gives you a quizzical look as you stand up.

"Where's your lube, baby?" you say, voice laced with a quiet need that you're clearly trying to hide, and it clicks in Jisung's head what you're about to do.

"Top drawer of my nightstand." He tells you, cringing when you pull it out and it's only half full.

"Mhm, someone's been busy," you tease, and Jisung flushes, avoiding your eyes, "Do you imagine it's me or Minho you're fucking? Or maybe both of us?"

Jisung stays silent, though the way his ears almost glow red gives him away.

"C'mon, Sungie, you can tell us," you coo, though there's a warning laced in your tone, "We want to know what you've been fantasizing about."

You drizzle lube across your fingers as Jisung speaks, circling your pointer finger around Minho's entrance just as he starts to confess to his fantasies.

"...I imagine watching the two of you," he admits, face warm and eyes avoidant, "I imagine you on all fours above me, and, uhm, hyung fucking into you. And he's…holding your hair, so you can't bury your face in my neck. And…"

He trails off, clearly embarrassed, just as you finally press your finger into Minho, revelling in just how tight he still is, despite being prepped and clean. You fuck it into him slowly as you look at Jisung over Minho's head expectantly, tilting your head when Jisung purses his lips nervously.

"...I imagine him telling you to moan my name as he fucks you." he says, so quiet you almost don't hear it.

Both you and Minho moan at that, Minho pressing into Jisung's chest to muffle his sounds, desperate fingers curling into the sheets next to Jisung's legs as he does. Jisung has the audacity to look embarrassed still (like he didn't just say the hottest thing ever), and you lean forward over Minho to kiss the embarrassment away.

The change in angle pushes your finger deeper into Minho, and he whimpers between you both, feeling so small, pressed into his dongsaeng's chest and with you hovering over him. You press another finger into him from this angle, and Minho can barely keep himself upright when you crook your fingers just right and brush his prostate lightly. It's just a tease, but it's enough to have electricity shooting up his spine, a pop of pleasure that he wasn't ready for so earlier on. Usually, you're a bit meaner, missing that spot inside of him on purpose, but right now, you want to coax those noises out of him, so you fuck your fingers into him with purpose.

You pull back to look into Jisung's eyes, heat curling in your stomach at the way he heaves in a shaky breath when your lips release his.

"Min?" you ask once, grinning when he makes a quiet, affirmative sound, "When I press into that spot, can you moan Sungie's name for me?"

Jisung's eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack (how cruel of you, to pull out his fantasy so soon after he confessed it), and Minho nods against his chest, hips arching to fuck back into your touch.

You insert a third finger, stretching him open wider. You avoid that spot on purpose at first, watching Jisung's features get a little desperate, too, because you just can't help but tease both of them. Minho wails as you spread your fingers wide, stretching his little hole to be ready for Jisung. You can't see Jisung's cock, but the sweatpants he's wearing leave little to the imagination, and you can tell for certain that Minho's going to need to be properly stretched to be able to take Jisung's length and thickness. 

Just when Jisung opens his mouth - to beg or to tell you to hurry up, you don't know - you curl your fingers just right, pressing hard on Minho's sweet spot, and it punches an almost feral sound out of Minho's mouth.

"Ouuugh, Jisung!" he all but screams, falling forward as his arms give out, face landing on Jisung's thigh.

His breath fans across Jisung's clothed cock, so very close to Jisung's neglected dick, and it makes Jisung keen, a pitchy little sound that breaks when you press that spot against and Minho lets out a little broken call of his name again.

"You're cruel," Jisung breathes, looking at you with half-lidded eyes, "Do I have to beg to fuck him now? Surely he's ready for me now."

"I don't know, baby, you look awfully big," you start, grinning when Minho blinks open his bleary eyes to stare at the bulge in Jisung's pants with wide eyes, "Hmm…Minho, beg Jisung for his cock."

You fuck your fingers into him a little harder just to hear the way his words catch on moans, grinning when he clenches around you. Jisung looks down at Minho expectantly, and when Minho bends his head awkwardly to catch his eyes, he lets out a long, drawn-out moan at the need written across Jisung's face.

"Please, please, please, Sungie, wan' your cock, please?" Minho begs, voice breaking as he lets out a frantic whine, "Oooh, Sungie, please, wan' to feel you stretching me open, wan' you to stuff me full, wan' to feel your big cock breaking me, please?"

Jisung looks like he's about to give in and beg himself, so you interject before he can, "That's not what you're supposed to call him, Min."

You say it like it's a fact, and Jisung's mind races. What the hell are you talking about? What could Minho possibly call him but his name? Sir? Master? Did you want him to call him his full name, as a show of power?

"Nooooo, I can't!" Minho whines, and then makes a noise that sounds like a sob as your fingers still inside of him, "Can't."

"You can, jagiya," you murmur, voice knowing, "You're the one who brought it up, so don't act all shy now."

Minho presses his face into Jisung's thigh and murmurs something into it, so quietly that Jisung doesn't hear what he says. 

In a flash of boldness, Jisung's fingers find Minho's jaw and squeeze, angling his face upwards so that he has no choice but to look at Jisung.

"C'mon Minho-yah, you're so close," Jisung says patronizingly, like Minho's just a dumb little thing, "You can do it, can't you, jagi? For me?"

Minho squeezes his eyes shut and inhales shakily. When he opens them again, they're even hazier than before, a needy, glassy sheen over them. He looks like he might cry. A sick little part of Jisung hopes he does.

"...hyung." Minho says, still so so quiet, but it's there.

"You can do better than that," Jisung says meanly, though his cock twitches desperately in his pants, because what the fuck Minho just called him 'hyung' that's the hottest thing Jisung has ever heard in his life.

"Hyung, Jisung-hyung, please!" Minho sobs, your fingers finally starting to move again now that Minho's begging properly," Wan' hyung-ah's cock, wan' him to fill me, please please please! Jisung-hyung, hyung, please, wan' it, wan' you, please-ahn!"

He cuts himself off with a long moan, glistening eyes looking up at Jisung as his mouth parts wide open. Jisung can't help but press his thumb into Minho's mouth, revelling in the way that Minho closes his mouth around his fingers and sucks desperately.

"Yeah? Want hyung to fuck your tight little hole?" He says breathlessly, eyes finding yours, asking for permission.

You think about it for a moment, and then give him a small nod, pulling your fingers out of Minho. His head snaps back and he makes a desperate sound, clearly unhappy to be so empty, eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he makes another incoherent sound as you pull further away.

"Relax, we're just giving you what you want, you big baby," you tell him, helping Jisung guide Minho's head onto the pillows at the head of the bed and onto his back, "Be patient, and we'll give you what you want, yeah?"

He nods shakily, looking up at both of you with big, needy eyes, and you quickly help Jisung out of his clothes, desperate to see the two of them together. When you guide Jisung's length out of his underwear, tossing the garment across the room vaguely in the direction of his shirt and pants, your breath catches.

Because damn, Han Jisung is big.

He's big both in length and in girth, bigger than anything you think you've ever taken. It's so heavy it can't even stand up all the way, and he curves just a bit upwards, the perfect shape to kiss Minho's prostate if he fucks into him just right. You clench around nothing, though you're not even sure you could even take him without a metric ton of prep. 

Minho looks just as shocked as you, even though you're sure he's seen his cock in passing before. All eight of the members of Stray Kids had seen all the other members in just about every state of undress, after all, though you suppose Jisung might not be nearly as impressive soft as he is hard. And boy, is he impressive.

"'s not gonna fit," he whines, though he's spreading his legs wider to let Jisung slot between them, "Jisung-hyung 's so big."

Jisung looks almost bashful about his size, though when he lays it down on top of Minho's stomach so the two of you can see just how far he's going to reach, he seems a little proud. 

"It's gonna be okay, baby, I'll go nice and slow," Jisung coos, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Minho's mouth, "Hyung will make sure you feel good, Min."

Minho whimpers, and you hazily reach for the discarded bottle of lube, pouring a generous amount on your palm. You reach to spread it across Jisung's length, squeezing his tip teasingly as you pull your hand away, because you knew he'd make a pretty little sound when you do. Jisung doesn't disappoint, a clipped-off whine escaping his throat and his hips bucking into the air as you pull away. He's so sensitive you wonder if he's even going to last in Minho, though Minho's so worked up already he probably won't need much to come.

You come around to sit up next to Minho as Jisung presses in ever-so slowly. Minho's hole stretches obscenely around his tip already, and Jisung's hands fly to grip his hips to hold him still.

"Stop squirming, baby," Jisung grits out, voice strained, "I'm trying to take it slow, and you're making it real hard to not just fuck into you, jagi."

"Sorry, 'm sorry, hyung," Minho breathes, voice barely a whisper, "Min's sorry, he's sorry, jus'-just-please."

"Please what, Min?" you ask, bringing a hand to run through his hair soothingly, a stark contrast to the harsh streeeetch of Jisung opening him up, "You're a big boy, you can use your words."

"So mean to him," Jisung says before Minho can reply, though his tone is laced with sarcasm, "He's just a little cock-dumb, you know he doesn't have any thoughts in that pretty little head of his right now."

The way Jisung talks about him like he's not even really there has Minho whimpering again, trying to strain against Jisung's grip but finding that he can't. He knew Jisung had been going to the gym more lately, but he really was so strong, and it makes Minho's cock spurt out another pathetic jet of precum across his stomach. He gets lost in the way that Jisung's abs flex as he holds himself back from fucking into him, lost in the way that sweat drips down his pretty tattoos, making them glisten. If Jisung wasn't holding him in place, Minho would lean forward and bite into the tattoo across Jisung's chest, marking him up so bad that Jisung couldn't take off his shirt in front of anyone else for weeks.

You read his mind, shifting from your place next to him to press a kiss first to Jisung's mouth, then to his neck, then to his shoulder, and then your teeth sink right into the 'B' of 'Blessed'. You grin against his skin as you feel his hips buck minutely, pressing further into Minho. Both of them groan simultaneously, Minho's a little pitchier than Jisung's, and you suck at the skin there until you're certain it'll bruise a pretty purple-red. 

"Shit, that's cheating." Jisung whines, though he doesn't seem too mad when he pulls one of his hands off Minho's hips to grab the back of your head and yank your mouth to his.

Minho uses the momentary lapse in grip to buck his hips down, pushing a couple more inches of Jisung into him in one go. Jisung's mouth disconnects from yours and falls into your shoulder as he groans, and Minho's mouth opens and closes uselessly, already so full and he's barely taken half of Jisung's massive length. 

"You're both conspiring against me," Jisung tries to joke, but he's so breathless it mostly comes out desperate, "Fuck, Min, don't clench so fucking tight-"

He cuts himself off with a grunt, eyes squeezing shut as he presses another inch into Minho's tight hole. You pull away to settle back next to Minho. His hand fumbles upwards to grasp for you, and you lace your fingers through his, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"You can do it, jagi," you tell him quietly, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his forehead, "Just a little bit more, you've got it. Relax a bit for him, won't you?"

"Kiss?" He asks, big shining eyes blinking up at you hazily.

Who would ever say no to Lee Minho when he's in this state? You curl forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, though he deepens it, and you let him drool into your mouth and Jisung presses allllll the way in, his balls slapping gently against Minho's ass as he fucks the last few inches in all in one go. It's a little mean, and Minho cries out into your mouth, but it's a cry of pleasure. He'd never admit it, but Minho loves the burn of a good stretch, wants it to hurt just a little bit, because it means he'll really feel it tomorrow. Every time he sits down, he'll feel the shape of Jisung inside of him, and shit, if that isn't insanely hot.

"Can I-shiiiit-can I move?" Jisung pants, looking at Minho with crazed eyes.

You pull back enough for Minho to respond, though he's drooling and can barely even get a nod out, he's already so fucked dumb. Your thighs clench together involuntarily looking at him, and you give Jisung another reassuring nod to signal that it's okay.

"Go ahead, Sungie," you say, voice low and heady, "Fuck him like he was dreaming of earlier, when he stretched himself out in the shower for you."

It's a mean tactic, to remind them both of how needy Minho was before he even knew that Jisung would want this, and it has Jisung pulling back all the way and bucking back into Minho with one harsh thrust. It punches little ah-ah-ah!s out of Minho's throat as he picks up his pace, too needy to keep it slow like he promised.

Not that Minho minds, with the way that his eyes are almost permanently rolled back into his skull and he fingers are clenching your so hard you think he might be cutting off circulation. His other hand reaches forward to grip at Jisung's bicep, though he can't get a solid grip, and instead drags his nails down his arm instead, leaving angry red streaks on his skin. Jisung whimpers and fucks into his harder, the headboard clanking against the wall harshly. If somehow the neighbors didn't already know what was happening by the obscene sounds coming out of Minho's mouth, the knocking of the headboard would certainly alert them. 

Not that any of you cared, not with how good everything felt. Every desperate fuck of Jisung's hips into Minho jolted the bed and sent heat curling through your body as well. Even though he wasn't fucking you, it sure felt like he was, with how your body was rocking with Minho's.

Minho couldn't manage any other words other than 'hyung' and 'please', though neither of you were quite sure what he was begging for. Jisung was in a similar state, Minho so tight-hot-wet around him that he couldn't get out much more than desperate moans and grunts as Minho clenched around him needily.

"Bet he feels so good, doesn't he, Sungie?" you say, grinning when Jisung struggles to answer, "Aww, are you both fucked dumb? My pretty boys look so good together. Look here, Sungie."

You reach your free hand out for Jisung's, and he lets you guide his hand to Minho's stomach, and fuck. That was him, wasn't it? He could feel his cock moving through Minho's stomach, feel the way he was stretching Minho's insides to remember the shape of him. He groans, eyes rolling back, and fucks his hips up into Minho's prostate, desperate to make Minho come before he does. He knows he's not going to last much longer, not with Minho clenching so perfectly around him and with you looking at him like that. How you're affecting him so much without even having to touch him is beyond Jisung, but he doesn't have time to think about it, because Minho's opening his bleary eyes and tilting his head to stare at you.

"Please, can I?" he says, voice strained from how much he's been moaning.

"Can you what? Gotta tell me what you need, jagi, I can't read your mind." You respond, though you certainly know what he's begging for.

Minho lets out a whimpers that turns into a full moan when Jisung fucks even harder into his prostate in retaliation.

"C-c'mon, Minho-yah-hngh, fuck! You can beg better than that." Jisung grits out, clenching his teeth when Minho's walls pulse around him, trying to milk him for all he's worth.

Minho's eyes are still on you, big and wet and wide, "Please, wanna-ah-ah-ah! Wanna come, wanna come so bad, I'm begging you, please!"

He starts really crying now, the dam finally breaking, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he hiccups, fingers digging into yours. 

"Hmmm, I think you should ask Sungie, jagi, he's the one fucking you, after all." You say, giving Jisung an expectant look.

He wants to curse you out for dragging this out any further, for making Jisung hold his own orgasm back, but he just groans again, cock twitching inside of Minho when he turns that big, teary gaze to Jisung.

"Hyung, Jisung-hyung!" He cries out, sobbing and hiccuping like he can't help but choke on his words when Jisung fucks him so good, "Please, can Min come? Wanna come, wanna come around your cock, wanna feel you filling me up, please, Jisung-hyung? Please, let Min come, please, hyung?"

He can't get any more words out after that, crying so hard all his words get choked off by sobs, and god, Jisung would do anything that Minho asked him in this state. Shit, he'd quit music forever if Minho told him that's what he wanted right now.

"Come, baby, come for hyung."

That's all it takes for Minho's back to arch off the bed and for cum to spurt out of his cock across his stomach. He comes so hard that a streak of it reaches his chest, and it makes him clench around Jisung. The rhythmic pulse of Minho's walls are enough for Jisung to send you a desperate look, hoping you understand what he's asking with his eyes. You nod once, giving him a cheshire grin, and he's crying out both of your names as he finishes inside of Minho.

The comedown is a blur, Jisung feeling like he's ascended to heaven. He still can't believe that this isn't a dream, that the two of you are dating him now, that you actually wanted him back just as much as he wanted you. As you're carefully wiping him and Minho clean, you press little butterfly kisses across any skin you can reach - Minho's soft stomach and his chest, Jisung's palm and his cheek - and guide them under the sheets. You strip out of your own clothes, just wanting to feel them against your skin, and grin as you watch Minho roll over lazily, giving Jisung a needy, sleepy look over his shoulder. Jisung snorts through his nose and curls around Minho's back, holding him close, and you come to the front of Minho, letting him bury his face in your chest.

"Thank you, Sungie." You say quietly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips over Minho's head. Minho's arm loops around you and pulls you closer, and you laugh a little as he nuzzles into your chest.

"For what?" He asks, blinking at you sleepily.

"For letting us love you," you murmur, eyes heavy and drooping, "And for loving us back."

You drift off just like that, and Jisung looks at you fondly, the peaceful look on your face and the warmth of you both against him lulling him to sleep, too.

– – –

To: Channie-hyung

>whoever else is in on your stupid bet owes you and Felix money btw

>thought i would let you know

>and before you say anything yes i will try and tell them to stop making out in obvious places in the building

>no promises, though

>thanks for believing in me, hyung

Bangchan

He's so cute when he's in heat

Superrrr needy and whiny

Rubbing his face against you and clinging onto you almost always

You always know when he's in pre-heat

He gets extra submissive and clingy with you

Constantly looking at you with the sweetest heart eyes

He'll feel very warm, his cheeks, ears and neck will be dusted pink

Until eventually he ends up either in your lap humping your thigh or laying cuddled up to your side and rutting into your hip

He never leaves the room in his heats

And doesn't like having you leave even if it's to get food or something to drink but you reassure him you'll be back soon

In a constant daze, always looking flushed and tired

He LOVES you taking complete control of him

Pinning him down and manhandling him to your liking

Knotting him as many times as you'd like

If he becomes very overwhelmed when you're fucking him so good he'll sink his canines into your shoulder

The prettiest muffled cries and moans ripping through him

He'll always trigger your rut

His scent is just so addicting to you

He's always so sweet and adorable during his heats yet loves how rough and relentless you are

Having him bent over, his ass in the air as your gripping his arms behind his back. His face smushed into the pillow as your growling and grunting behind him

Fucking him so deeply whilst he just whines and whimpers so beautifully

His slick dripping down his thighs and making such a loud squelching sound as your cock drills into him

Will beg you to knot him

Will beg you to cum inside him

Will beg you to choke him

Will beg you to just ruin him

And the way he pleads is so sweet you can't resist, you'd do anything for your little omega

Lee Know

Super bratty during his pre-heats but when his heat comes he's surprisingly obedient

Don't get me wrong he can be feisty

Might bite you then and there but he'll let you do what you want with him

During his pre-heats he likes to act out alot but a just give him a warning growl and he'll back off

He won't really tell you when his heat starts but he'll find a way to let you know

He'd probably sit on your lap for a while until you feel his slick begin seeping through and onto your trousers

Or he'd be constantly at your neck, sniffing, licking and biting

You love how red he gets whilst you're fucking him

From his ears down to his chest and BRIGHT red and so hot to the touch

Loses control sometimes and forgets his place and ends up shoving you onto your back and riding you so hard you feel your dick may fall off

You can't say you'd complain about it, it feels fucking amazing the way he slams himself down onto your cock

He prefers you fuck him on his back so he could wrap himself around you tightly

He loves how big your cock is and how deep it reaches everytime

His slick is something that could send any alpha into rut from a mile away

It smells and tastes of honey

There's been many times where you'd just have him on his stomach whilst you eat him out

He'd definitely mark you

He's a big biter

You have many marks and scars from where he's bitten you and you love them

Changbin

He's so cute during his heats I wanna eat him

No like literally I can't

He's covered with many bite marks from you and your ruts cause you get so much cuteness aggression from him

He's just so twitchy and sensitive you can't keep your hands off him

His titties get...bigger and insanely sensitive

He'll cry through most of his heat wether your fucking him or not

He just gets so emotional

And that turns you on alot...I mean...He's so cute when he cries (and so is lix)

Tiny leaky cock 🤏🏻

He's usually quite quiet when you're fucking him but they'll get louder the rougher you get and the closer he's getting

You love touching his ears and tail

He'll let out a little whimper when your fingers brush across them lightly

You love to tease him

He's so pathetic and you're so mean to poor binnie

Stopping right as he's about to cum, brushing your fingers against his ears and getting him all wet just to leave him, pinching his overly sensitive nipples and making him cum all over himself and then laughing at him whilst he lays there sobbing and hiding behind his arms

Your knots so big it's almost a struggle to push it in him every time but he finally manages after getting him to relax a little

You love to hold him so tight whilst your waiting to be detached from him

Kissing him softly as he just whines with tears streaming down his cheeks

Hyunjin

Sluttiest omega ever

It's like he gets possessed by something

Will show himself off infront of you

Put on a little show

Strip himself down whilst you sit back on the bed and watch

Will crawl on the bed towards with dark lust filled eyes looking like he's ready to devour you

You may be the alpha but doesn't stop him from teasing you and making you beg for his hole

Laying down on his back with his legs up in front of you whilst he fingers himself

So much slick is dripping down the bed and his fingers, it's making your cock twitch

He'll finger himself until he's had enough and is needy for your cock

He'll climb into your lap and slide himself down onto you

He'll ride you slowly

He basically tortures himself

Gets himself so worked up to the point he's tearing up and begging you to ruin him

Sweat dripping down his face as he looks so fucked out

You'll finally flip him over and give him what he's been begging for

Wrapping your hands tightly round his throat hard enough it makes him slightly gasp for air

Will smile that that fucked out manic smile he does as your losing all your control over him

Your primal instincts start to creep up, your mind confusing horny and aggression and mixing them into one

At that point hyunjin's a goner

His facade of having you beg for him long gone as your primal instincts kick in

Growling out that he's yours and only yours, how if anyone dares to lay a hand on him you'd rip them apart

Takes your knot so well

Lays there completely limp after, you'd think he's dead

Han

He's so needy during his heats

Constantly fucking himself back onto you

Touching you at every chance he can get

Grinding his ass against you to get your attention

He basically lives on your lap when you're not fucking

So loud omg

His moans are so pretty though

Just makes sure if he's in heat that there's nobody else in the house cause he WILL keep them up all night with his loud cries and moans

Huge pillow princess

Will make you do EVERYTHING

Will lay there and take it so well though

No complaints, he'd just let you do whatever you'd like

If you're feeling mean though, then you'll make him ride you

He's so pathetic when he's desperately trying to ride you

Whining as he grips your shoulders and attempts to bounce himself on your cock

He'd eventually give up, legs going weak as he flops down and just grinds his cock onto your stomach

Definitely the type to lick you

He's sitting in your lap and wrapping himself around you as he lick at your neck every so often

It's his way of trying to get your complete attention and tell you he's needy again

His legs tremble when he cums it's so cute

Felix

Produces so much slick you'd think he would be bone dry by the next day

But ofc he isn't, he produces just as much...maybe even more

Such a wet, slippy mess when you fuck him through his heats

But his slick makes you completely animalistic

You lose all sense of control when he's bent over in front of you, slick pouring down his thighs and pooling at his knees

You have to change and wash the sheets every day through his heats

He always soaks through his underwear

It's a very easy glide when you first shove your cock into him and he's always so warm

The sweetest little omega

In both ways

He's constantly thanking you for everything you give him, every heat you've helped him through, how well you take care of him, how good you fuck him

And also sweet as in his slick

It's like cotton candy, you could eat away for hours until you feel as if your teeth may rot

He's got a huge thing for the size difference between you both

He's so tiny and cute whilst your so big and intimidating, yet very kind and caring on the inside

Your cock bulges in his stomach it's so big

With the amount of slick he produces it's an easy fit luckily but he loves the feeling of being stretched so wide

Your knots a whole other story

It makes him cry

Not sad tears, very very happy tears

He fucking LOVES your knot and will beg so much for it

Seungmin

We all know he purposely pisses you off just so you can manhandle him

We all know he loves that shit and gets off on it

The way you grab him by the throat and growl in his ear for him to behave

The way you hook his arms behind his back and hold him in place as you do whatever you want to him

He just smiles and giggles the whole time

It's his happy place being thrown around by you

Especially when in heat

He could cum just by you putting him in a headlock

Which you do often

Having lay on his stomach, your arms hooked around his neck and locking in place as you pound your cock into him

He just lays there and cries out the most pathetic moans

He has a little thing for slight asphyxiation

Loves when you choke him to the point he's going dizzy and gasping for air

He's so slutty during his heats and you love it

Wiggling his perky little butt at you or putting his hand right over your crotch and acting all innocent when you glare at him

Would definitely stick his tongue out and pant when you've got him bent over and fucking his brains out

He'd love to ride you thigh as his slick drips out all over your trousers

Won't admit it but he loves being knotted by you

The feeling of being attached to you so intimately makes him feel so fuzzy inside

I.N

Super shy during his heats

Reluctant to touch you or initiate anything

He'd go as long as he could through his heats until you finally find out he's in heat

You try encourage him to start telling you but he's too embarrassed

Though he has asked once but it's because he was insanely desperate and was basically losing his mind

He's so blushy when you begin stripping him down which just makes you wanna devour him

He definitely knows how to set your primal instincts off without trying

You become so protective over him

He gets flustered when you growl at anyone who steps even anywhere near him

He shakes a little when you tower over the top of him, gulping as you touch his body teasingly

His moans are so adorable

He tries holding them back but when you're being so rough with him he can't help but let them slip out

Can't help but claw down your back when you're fucking him into the mattress

His claws are quite sharp so he'd accidentally make you bleed a little

Not that you mind

Let's out a very loud gasp when your knot slips in

He's never used to the size of it

Was very confused the first time you ever knotted him since you were his very first and he had no knowledge or experience

Took him by surprise when suddenly something even thicker slipped in and suddenly become attached to the inside of him

You just laughed and kissed him before explaining what happened

you and minho fought often, so often that it had become second nature to you. being stuck in the same group—being roommates— only made it worse. it was constant, and frankly suffocating.

“no, I'm serious,” he said, taking a step closer, “we practiced that turn a hundred times.”

“and I did it right a hundred times,” you shot back. 

“one mistake doesn’t mean you get to tear me apart! besides, don't act like you didn't use the wrong foot while switching into the diagonal step.”

minho scoffed, folding his arms— staring at you like you slapped him.

“wrong foot?” he repeated. “i made up for your late count.”

you scoffed—did he think you were a joke? “made up for your late count?” 

was he coming up with excuses, or did he genuinely believe that messing up the step counted as helping? 

“you didn’t make up for anything. you panicked.” you snapped back, stabbing your finger into his chest. 

“you rushed and threw off my balance.”

“shit, so now it's my fault you couldn’t land it?” he pressed, stepping even closer, eyes darkening—the air between you felt thicker.

"I would've landed it if you hadn’t yanked me early!” you retaliated, your chest rising and falling, frustration taking over.

minho stepped closer with a glower, eyes narrowing—as if he was daring you to push further. 

“we failed because you froze.” he said, voice low and sharp.

“no,” you responded quickly, bitterly laughing. “we failed because you don't know how to dance with someone—only over them.”

for a moment, he looked stunned.

“...what did you just say?”

“i said,” you took a deep breath before continuing. 

“you don't like to dance with people,” you repeated, not backing down. “you dance like you're alone, and everyone else just has to keep up or get dragged.”

silence rung out between you.

minho’s stare hardened, disbelief turning into something colder— ready to fight back— until a hand gripped his shoulder, trying to hold him back, that hand belonging to felix. 

“can you guys please relax?” he huffed, a concerned look on his face. “you both made mistakes—so stop fighting. it's not going to change the fact that we failed because of you two.”

minho's jaw clenched, but felix's grip kept him from lunging forward. you were staring at minho half in disbelief and half in frustration. a part of you wanted to provoke him, but the other was telling you to drop it. 

felix shook his head, letting go of minho. “seriously guys, what's done is done. you two messed up your duet, and we all faced the consequences. yelling at each other won't fix shit.”

minho’s glare snapped towards you, but he didn't argue.

before you two killed each other, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. hyunjin slowed to a stop in front of you both, eyes wide and grinning.

“guys,” he said, catching his breath. “we’re getting a second chance!”

both you and minho froze. 

“...second chance?” felix asked, confused.

hyunjin nodded, voice stable now. “yeah, the professor knows the mess with your duet affected the rest of us, buuuut… he's giving us one more shot. basically—fix your part, or the whole group suffers.” his ecstatic tone when he first arrived shifting into something more serious.

minho blinked, mouth open slightly. “fix it…? together?”

“yes,” hyunjin stared at him, exhaling like he couldn't believe he was saying it. “how else are you supposed to perform a duet? anyways, this means you actually have to cooperate. no more screaming in hallways, holding grudges, and for god’s sake stop flirting in front of us!”

“what? okay, i”m going to stop you there,” you quickly cut off hyunjin. “in what world would I ever flirt with that narcissist?”

minho’s gaze flicked to you for a second—clenching his fists like he was going to defend himself, until hyunjin's voice stopped him.

“sure, whatever— i don't care if it's flirting or fighting. you guys need to put aside your pride for once and make sure we dont fuck this up okay?” his voice firm—making sure he got his point through your heads.

“so what, are we supposed to just pretend that didn't happen?” minho responded, getting worked up all over again. 

felix exhaled loudly as he stepped forward—preparing to step in if something happened. “no.” he paused before looking directly at both you and minho, “you’re supposed to shut up and not make it worse.”  

“yeah, you guys can do whatever you want after we pass.” hyunjin leaned onto the wall, agreeing with felix.  

“seriously, how do you guys argue this much? does it not get tiring?” felix's eyes flicked between the two of you, genuine confusion painting his face.

“minho’s ego is clearly too high to accept that I'm just as good of a dancer as he is—so he constantly nitpicks every little thing I do. It's like he's obsessed with me or something.” you responded flatly, maintaining eye contact with minho.

“me?” he scoffed, a humourless laugh slipping out, “obsessed with you? you wish.” 

felix ran a hand down his face, exhaustion coloring his voice. “you know what? forget I even asked.” he glanced at hyunjin, who shrugged helplessly. 

“just— go home and work things out, okay? we can't risk losing our last chance because you two can't stand being in the same room for five minutes.” 

minho grabbed his bag from the corner, already heading towards the door. “fine, whatever.”

you followed him out, the door slamming shut behind you. the campus was quieter now, most people gone for the night. the only things you could hear were a few voices in the distance and the footsteps of both you and minho.

the walk back to the dorms was suffocating. minho walked a few steps ahead, with his hands shoved in his pocket—you kept your distance, staring at the pavement—wondering how you would try and work with him.

by the time you reached the building, your chest felt heavy—you couldn't tell if it was anxiety or anger. minho pushed through the entrance without looking back, and you caught the door before it could shut in your face.

“seriously?” you muttered.

he didn't respond. didn't even flinch.

up the stairs, down the hall, and finally—your shared dorm room. minho unlocked the door and stepped inside first, tossing his bag onto the couch like he’d already forgotten you existed.

you closed the door behind you— a little harder than necessary, and stood there for a moment, staring at him before you sat on the couch, keeping your distance.

“so what now?” you asked, breaking the silence. “we just pretend that didn't happen?”

minho turned slowly, leaning against the arm of the couch. “what do you want me to say?”

“i don't know—maybe acknowledge the fact that you were being unreasonable?” you said, frustration bleeding into your voice.  

“unreasonable?” he let out a breathless chuckle and shook his head, “youre the one who can't take criticism.”

you let out a forced laugh before retaliating, “that's rich coming from you.” minhos gaze dropped onto your crossed arms, “someone seriously needs to put you in your place.” 

minho's mouth opened, then closed. his eyebrows shot up, and for a second, he just stared at you—like he couldn't quite process what you just said.

“i—what?” his voice came out slightly higher than usual, and you watched as his ears turned pink. “put me in my—are you serious right now?”

you shrugged, trying to keep your expression neutral. “yeah. someone really should.”

he let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. “that's—you can't just say shit like that.”

“why not? it's true.”

minho’s gaze snapped back to yours, something flickering in his eyes that you couldn't quite read. he opened his mouth like he was gonna argue, but no words came out. 

“you’re unbelievable,” he whispered, but his voice had lost its bitterness.

“why?” you tilted your head, a small grin appearing on your face. “did I finally find a way to shut you up?”

“shut up,” he said, but there was no anger behind it—just embarrassment he was very desperate to hide. he cleared his throat— trying to avoid making eye contact with you. “it's getting late…can we just— can we figure out the choreography tomorrow? Please?” 

you glanced at the time on your phone. he wasn't wrong—it was late—you were both exhausted from the performance and the argument that followed. 

“fine.” you said, uncrossing your arms. “but you’re actually going to work with me this time, not against me.”

“i always work with you,” minho protested weakly, finally meeting your eyes again. 

“sure you do.” you stood up from the couch, grabbing your bag from where you dropped it, "that's why we failed today.”

he winced slightly at that, and you almost felt bad for bringing it up. 

almost.

the silence that followed felt heavier than before. minho looked away, jaw working like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. 

“i’m going to bed,” you said, finally breaking the tension. you couldn't do this anymore tonight—the arguing, the back and forth. you were exhausted.

“yeah,” minho said quietly, still not looking at you, “okay.”

you turned towards your room, taking a couple steps, but stopped and hesitated for just a second. part of you wanted to say something else— maybe apologize for your comment, but you were too tired to deal with anything. 

“we’ll figure it out tomorrow,” you added, softer this time. 

minho’s eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, and he nodded, “yeah. tomorrow.” 

you gave him one last look before heading into your room and closing the door behind you. the moment you were alone, you dropped your bag on the floor and collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

tomorrow. 

you’d fix everything tomorrow.

you just hoped it would actually be that simple.   

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the next morning came too fast.

you woke up to sunlight shining through the blinds and the muffled sound of movement in the space outside your room. for a moment you just laid there— replaying last night in your head, you regretted a lot of things.

you groaned, dragging a pillow over your face—ready to scream, until a sharp knock on your door jolted you upright. 

“are you up?” minho's voice came through, flat and cautious.

“yeah,” you called back, shoving the pillow aside and swinging your legs off the bed. “i’ll be out soon.” 

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the practice room felt different.

emptier.

colder.

felix and hyunjin were already there when you arrived. felix was sitting against the wall—earbuds in, eyes closed like he was mentally preparing himself for whatever chaos would unfold. hyunjin was sitting next to him, scrolling on his phone—but the way he kept glancing at the door told you he’d been waiting.

“morning,” you greeted them, dropping your bag by the wall—beginning to stretch.  

felix pulled out one earbud. “hey.”

hyunjin straightened up, rolling his shoulders back. “okay so—are we going to do this, or are you two going to need another minute to… i don't know, get it out of your system first?”

“we’re fine,” you responded quickly.

“sure you are.” hyunjin didn't sound very convinced.

minho walked past you, already pulling his arm across his chest to stretch. “let’s just start. the sooner we fix this, the sooner we're done.”

you shot him a look. “wow. how motivating.”

"i wasn't trying to motivate you,” he muttered, not even looking at you. “just being realistic.”

“right.” you bit your tongue, resisting the urge to say something that would start another argument.

not today.

felix stood up and sighed loudly. “okay, let's go over the group part first—just to make sure we’re all on the same page, then you two can work on the duet.”

you and minho nodded at the same exact time.

hyunjin let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “you guys are so weird.”

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you thought everything was going well. the counts were clean, the transitions smooth, and for once you weren't second-guessing every movement.

then minho opened his mouth.

“your footwork’s sloppy.”

you stopped turning to face him. “yeah? well your back isn’t straight.”

“it doesn’t need to be straight for this step, dumbass,” he shot back, crossing his arms 

“sure,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “but you should practice it anyway to make sure you don’t fuck it up a second time.”

minho's eyes widened for just a second before his expression hardened. he took a step towards you, voice dropping. 

“fuck it up? are you seriously going to stand there and act like yesterday wasn't on you?”

“it wasnt—”

“yes it was,” he cut you off jaw tight. “stop trying to rewrite what happened just because you don't want to admit it.”

your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. you lowered your voice, leaning in just enough so that he could hear every word. “keep talking like that and I’ll make sure your footwork isn’t the only thing that’s sloppy by the end of the hour.”

minho blinked. his mouth opened slightly, then closed—staring at you, clearly caught off guard.

“yeah?” he finally managed, voice rougher than before.

hyunjin groaned loudly from across the room. “could you guys whisper any louder? i was just starting to hear my own fucking counts.”

felix rubbed his temples, as if a headache was forming. “i think we should just stop for today—“

“what? no," minho said quickly, breaking eye contact with you. “i can’t leave yet. i’ve got so much to go over.” 

hyunjin and felix glanced at each other momentarily, before hyunjin stepped forward.

“perfect! you and minho can do whatever it is that you need to do and felix and i can relax. i’m sure you two wouldn’t understand, but carrying a group project on your back isn’t very easy,” 

hyunjin slung his bag over his shoulder, turning towards the both of you to give you a final look, “make sure to work on your duet sections before you have any extra fun.”

hyunjin and felix didn't waste any time. they headed for the door, not even bothering to glance back. you didn't think much of it—not until the door swung shut behind them.

then you heard it.

the lock.

a soft, deliberate click.

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i really hope u guys enjoy it so far because this genuinely took years off my lifespan while writing it..

lmk in the comments if you would like to be added to the taglist for chapter 2 !!

taglist: @minho4luv @daises-and-domming @gabimmat @mxmx09

read chapter two here.

Minho wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was a virgin.

Untouched and "pure", undirtied by the hands of another some might even say. Specifically you, teasing him with light kisses and gentle touches.

And sure, he'd gotten to 2nd base in a high school relationship and older drunken mishaps but never anything more. Never as so far as to...feel certain things from another person.

Or from himself for that matter.

But no, wasn't ashamed that he was a virgin but he was maybe, perhaps, just a little bit embarrassed.

And he had absolutely zero idea how to breach the topic with you much less approach it.

You, who knew he was a virgin. Always so patient and careful with him.

Obviously, it should be expected that in the heat of the moment you stop when he freezes up or slows when he tenses up. But none of his previous partners had ever treated him so nicely, without getting angry or miffed off after at the very least.

They hadn't kissed his cheeks gently with a smile and conceded into a cuddle after it happened several times. They hadn't wrapped him up in their arms and turned on a movie, or delicately asked to talk about it after the fact.

You did though.

With no questions and no pressuring and no guilt-tripping. No anger.

He loved it. He loved you...as long as that had taken for him to come to terms with, with you and with himself.

He loved you.

And he was ready.

To...to, yeah.

And what better way than to just come out and say it? But that's embarrassing.

"I think I wanna...you know."

"Darling, sorry, can you speak up?" You looked up at him, yawning and setting your phone down on the coffee table.

He flushed and turned away, "um..." and he could feel every ounce of confidence in his body drain out of him like that.

Under your eyes, like this, you so attentive to listen to him. So nice, giving him your whole attention like he was the only thing that mattered.

You patted the couch next to you and he had no choice to sit down, falling into your arms like he was the missing piece to your puzzle.

He was quick to nuzzle his face into your throat, hiding against you. You just made him so nervous. Why did you make him so nervous still? After dating for this long, you shouldn't make him feel this way still.

Fluttery and gooey and nervous.

He'd say he hated it. The way you made his heart flutter...as sappy and love-drunk as that sounded.

He'd say he hated it when your hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. But he didn't hate it. Not one bit.

"I love you."

A grin split across your face, lighting up in that way you always did when he said those three words. No matter how many times he's said it, it would still drive you crazy like it was the first.

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose gently. "Say it again for me darling? Just one more time, please?"

Now you were teasing him. But you couldn't help it. You loved teasing him so much. Loved fluttering kisses over his face and hearing him say those words again and again and again.

You didn't think you could ever get sick of it.

"Fuck you," He groaned but his tone with filled with anything but malice, making you laugh; letting him bury his head into your neck. "Fuck you for being so..."

"So what?" You challenged. "Hmm?"

His voice was muffled against your skin, barely legible, "So...insufferable." But he must like suffering then. "And intolerable." And he must have built up some tolerability, maybe because he was around you so much, indulging in you far too often.

You pulled his body against yours, leaning back to slot his body onto yours.

He was too eager to follow your lead.

To let himself be maneuvered so his hips were pressed against yours and your chest was aligned with his, so softly you moved him, so carefully you treated him.

He could feel your heart beating in time with his, fluttering and quick. He loved the feeling like he loved everything about you.

Fuck you for making him feel like this.

For the butterflies in his stomach. And the flush on his cheeks. And the hard-on between you and him, wishing desperately you wouldn't notice.

But of course you would.

You pulled his face from your neck, hands holding either side of his face, keeping him in place - like he'd want to be anywhere else.

"So I'm insufferable and you're...what?" Your lips pouted and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss them. To kiss you. Hard and fast and the way he needed.

He pretended to think but was only sidetracked by the feeling of your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, tracing his lips and following down to his jawline.

"Mmm, I'm...handsome. And, uh," he let out an embarrassing breathy sigh when you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth so softly he wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't watched you.

"And...?" You prompted, smiling coyly. You knew the effect you had on him.

You peppered kisses over his face, following where you'd touched him with your fingers seconds before. You nipped at his cheek and pulled away before he could properly reply.

"...pretty?" Though the words came out more as a question than anything else. "I mean-"

A giggle escaped your lips, "Hell yeah you are," you brush your nose against his, looking at him in a way so scarily intimate he has to look away first.

"Pretty..." you mutter, sighing. "Y'know, I think I can accept being insufferable and intolerable if you can accept being pretty," you whisper, guiding him back to you with a delicate kiss, finally to his lips. "And handsome," you murmur, smiling against him as he deepens the kiss, hands grasping at the fabric of your shirt.

You pull away with a small teasing smirk, "And beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunnin-mmph!"

His hands fist the fabric, pulling you in before you can continue with your stupid rant. Before you can focus on the way his heart pounds when you add on another praise.

You hum and recede into the motion, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth, sloppyily, in the way oddly reminiscent of the way horny teenagers kiss.

In a matter of seconds he's turned the kiss from sweet to something not-so-sweet.

Exactly what he wanted, and maybe he wouldn't even need to suffer through the awkwardness of asking.

Everything he put in was returned by you in the tenfold, one hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, the effects making you laugh against his lips. His form shivering into yours, full-bodied and obvious.

"Sensitive?" You pulled away, with a breath, mouth curling up. "It's okay, it's cute-mmph!"

He crashed his lips against yours again, effectively cutting off your words and your thoughts. Even if you continued to play with the nape of his neck, fingers teasing over the spot. The feeling only made him more and more desperate.

But if he was needy, you were nothing but eager to reply, deepening the kiss like you were trying to consume him whole.

"Darling," you mutter, too soft. "Minnie," you groan, holding him to you gently.

But you were too soft, too gentle.

He wanted more, he wanted you.

Unrestrained, doing what you wanted for once, using him like you wanted. Because he wanted it.

Wanted to not be treated like he was a piece of glass, in danger of breaking every moment. He loved how carefully you treated him but now he wanted to be treated rough, he needed to be treated rough.

But he didn't want to say it.

Slowly, he pressed his hips against yours, shuddering at the fizzle of friction sending sparks through his nerves.

"Minho," you sighed, nails scratching against his scalp making him whine. "Darling," with a particularly harsh nip to his lips, almost hard enough to break the skin - that was what he wanted.

A whimper built up in his throat only to be swallowed down. He wasn't that desperate yet. Even if every one of his movements seemed to argue otherwise, finding a clumsy rhythm in grinding against you, replicating and intensifying those sparks.

Building them up to what he hoped was more.

Even if the motions were clumsy and new. Curious but wanting all the same, the way he moved was raw, exploring and ruining. It made his head spin and everything else go foggy.

You dragged your mouth away from his, tugging his head up by his hair to lick your way down his neck.

A lick and an open-mouthed kiss, making him shudder and shake, heat emanating from the areas you touched and the places you pressed together.

Separated by stupid clothes but not enough to stop him.

He must look pathetic the way he thrusts against you, each discordant grind getting more desperate, more sloppy with the skim of your mouth. With the drag of your tongue down his jaw and pulse-point, heart thrumming beneath your lips. With every shockwave of euphoria that tingles down his spine, with every moan and whisper of his name that leaves your lips.

"Minho," "Minnie," "Baby," "Darling,"

His head is too fuzzy to worry about anything else. To think about the needy noises that leave him, he's sure he sounds lewd, and dirty.

From just dry-humping against you.

But it's not enough. He wants you rough and hard and on top of him. Showing him what to do, telling him what to do. To make him feel good, to make you feel good.

He falters imperceptibly. Should he...?

No, he doesn't want to. He can't. Because how is he supposed to ask you to-

He's caught up in his head but his body works on autopilot, reacting to the sensations that are bringing him closer and closer to cumming in his boxers.

Caught up in his thoughts but not so much so that he forgets about you,

and he certainly doesn't miss anything you say, like the words "Such a fucking good boy," nearly growled into his throat, voice husky and ragged as your teeth scrape down his skin.

Good boy?

He freezes. Heat pools deep inside of him, warm and making him painfully, painfully hard. The words push him nearly to the edge, and he can feel himself on the precipice of-

And then he's being shoved back, hard.

Harder than you meant to, but necessary for what you were about to do.

You pant, as does he, both of you flushed and trying to catch the breath stolen from your lungs.

No, no, not when he was finally getting somewhere, not when finally, finally he was getting what he wanted. Not when you were actually unrestrained and-

"I'm sorry."

His gaze snapped to yours.

"What?"

Your lips were red and parted, he was sure his weren't in much better shape. All he wanted to do was kiss them again, and again, and again.

He wants to hear you call him a good boy again.

"I-I'm sorry," you ran your hand through your hair. "I should've...I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry Minho." This time you were the one looking away.

"The fuck do you mean?" He snaps. It came out a little harsher than intended, he admits. But really, he was sitting here, horny and pent-up and just wanting to get fucked, and here you were, pushing him away and apologizing?

You blink, slowly, surprised.

And here he is, fuming.

Why won't you just fuck him?

"I'm sorry-" would you just stop saying that? His glare shuts you up. "Um," You only looked confused now, a furrow between your brow.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch it.

He wishes you'd just make the first move.

Because now he was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you. Not just mumble some nonsense and hope that you'd pick it up.

"I want you." He said simply, inching closer to you.

You nodded but made no move to continue anything. "Okay..." then a sigh. "I'm going to need you to elaborate just a little, Minho."

The flush across his cheeks spreads, down his neck and over his collarbone. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was made of glass or something? Like you cared about him so much it made him melt.

Fuck, he loved you.

"Look at me baby." You gently cup his face, turning him to meet your eyes. "You can tell me."

You definitely knew.

He could see it in your eyes, the worry giving way to a teasing look. Now you just wanted to humiliate him huh?

He hated you.

"Shut up."

You smiled, pulling him into your chest again, laying between your legs. Just like you were before. "Well that's not what good boys say, now is it?"

He pulled his face away, burying it into your shoulder to hide from your eyes. "I don't like you." His voice came out muffled into your shirt.

You only scoff out a laugh. "We both know that's not true darling. You love me." Voice dropping to a whisper, you lean into his ear. "Do I make you nervous baby?"

Someone just kill him now.

Put an end to his misery.

"N-no;" his voice still muffled in the fabric of his your shirt. "you're just-"

"Just what?" You challenge, fingers teasing into his hair, the way you know he likes it. "You're a big boy, you can use your words, can't you?"

He shudders and swears he can hear your smirk. "I...- fuck you."

You tug on his hair, making him face you. You swear he has a eye-contact problem. Or maybe he just gets too nervous looking you in the eye.

Either way, he's too adorable not to coo at.

"I was imagining this the either way around, but whatever rocks your boat~" you purr. "All you have to do is tell me what you want."

His hips jolt against yours, heat filling his body. As soon as he does though, your free hand stills his hips, fingertips teasing under the hem of his shirt while you look at him expectantly.

He wants to hide again, but you hold him in place. Pinning him against you, not letting him look away, not letting him move.

He wants you so bad.

"Touch me..." He mutters, and your hand slides just a bit higher on his abdomen, your thighs squeezing just a bit tighter around his hips.

It's over for him. He knows as soon as your lips turn up just a bit more into a coy smile. "Where?"

When he doesn't reply soon enough you skim your hand up and over his ribcage. Breathing growing heavy as your other leaves his hair, trailing down his neck and over his shoulder, slipping just beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Here?"

Such a simple touch makes him feel hot.

"Or here?"

Slowly, your hand under his shirt makes its path towards his chest.

He gasps lightly when your fingers tweak over his nipple, delighting in the way he quivers, rutting against you. You click your tongue at him. "You know, I really can't do anything to you until you tell me what you really want." Lips ghost over his ear, nipping lightly at the shell. "Too bad, really. I could take such good care of a cute little virgin like you~"

His voice cracks under the weight of your touch; trying to clear his throat while biting back a moan. "I'm not cute-"

You cut him off with a kiss, tentatively, like you hadn't stolen his breath with a kiss only minutes ago. Like you're afraid to break him.

But he wants you to break him.

The kiss is too short for his taste but it effectively cuts off his thought process, making him nearly dumb against you. Not dumb enough to not catch the smile against his skin, "I'm not cute." But he sounds so cute. It only makes the smile widen, turning your attention to trail kisses down his neck, murmuring between each press of your lips.

"Yes you are." Kiss.

And for some reason, he can't argue.

"Remember?" Kiss.

"I'm...what was it?" Smile, kiss, lick.

"Intolerable?" A pause, but only for a second, taking the moment to drag your tongue across his throat.

"And you're cute," Stopping to suck on the spot where his pulse thrums, feeling his heart beat under your lips.

"And pretty..." Kissing, once again, over the pretty mark you've left on his pale skin.

"And beautiful...and stunning...and..." you pull away, looking to see his eyes hooded and pupils blown. "...not getting anything more until you can tell me what exactly you want here."

You pinch his nipple one more time before pulling away, leaving him cold, whining, grinding desperately between your legs.

He's hard enough, you wonder if he would've cum in his pants if you hadn't stopped.

"I..." he starts and you wait patiently for him to continue. If you've learned anything about Minho, it's that he's nothing if not embarrassed to voice his wants. Especially the ones like this.

You remember how he blushed and couldn't stop wringing his hands when you worked him up to ask to kiss you for the first time.

The way he couldn't look you in the eye, focusing anywhere else.

But he knows by now, you're nothing if not a tease, willing to play the long game to get him to tell you what he wants.

Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He's so hard though, it hurts. And his skin nearly burns with the need to be touched, to feel you on him again. And all he wants to do is let you have your way with him.

Something that won't happen until he tells you.

"Please," he whines. Though he knows it's not enough. He just wants you. "Please?" On him, touching him, teasing him, kissing him, consuming him. "I need it." pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. "Just fuck me, I want you so, so bad." He pants, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Wanted you so bad, for forever now."

God, you can't wait to fuck him.

A grin blooms across your face, one that he can barely process. "Thought you'd never ask baby."

Not before you're pushing him onto his back, onto the soft cushions of the couch, switching your positions before crawling on top of him.

"M' gonna make you see stars baby." You purr, and he can do nothing else but nod dumbly, looking up at you with wide eyes like you're something of a goddess on top of him.

And you will make him see stars. Not yet anyway.

His vision goes hazy though as your hands quickly move to pull his shirt over his head, leaning down to kiss him again.

Deep and hard, filled with promises and care.

You lace your fingers with his against the couch cushions as you kiss down his jaw and down his neck and his chest and-

He gasps when you lick over his nipple, wrapping your lips around one to suck on it lightly.

Your tongue swirls around it, free hand tweaking at the other, making sure not to ignore it.

His cock is so hard, he can feel it throbbing in his sweats. He's sure he's already leaked through his underwear.

He swears he could cum from this alone.

"Don't!" He gasps and you pull away quickly, concern etched across your brow before you see his face clouded with pleasure, mouth hung open to let out breathy moans. "Please don't." He squeezes your hand in his. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

You melt, filled with the overwhelming need to make him cum by just playing with his nipples. How cute he'd look from having his tits played with.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" You coo.

Maybe another day though. Right now, you'll give him what he wants. What he's wanted for 'forever'.

"Shut up," he scowls though it's quickly wiped away when you pinch his nipple one more time, making him gasp.

Finally, you glance down at his sweats, tenting with his boner. "Well someone's excited for me." Seeing you stare at his crotch makes him excited. His already hard cock twitching in his pants. "You're so sensitive for me, aren't you, Min?"

He hates you so much, covering his face with the back of his arm. The fact that you're only telling the truth makes him want to hide his face into your chest again.

But you're too far away, and too focused on watching his boner through his pants, fascinated by how hard you've made him with so little.

"Please," he whispers, but the way you watch him, eyes full of hunger makes him throb even more.

Somehow, he gets a kick out of you just watching him, softly moaning at his eagerness, as he lets out a hushed whisper, "Please. Please y/n, don't tease me like this. I'm already horny." His legs spread open shamelessly.

"Awe, why? Can you not handle it?" You look up at him, at his blushing face and his needy eyes. You wanna kiss him so bad.

And so you do, getting close to his lips, your warm breath tickling him. Your hand runs over his clothed cock, teasing your nails gently over the head of his dick. His eyes widen as you begin to touch him over the fabric.

But your lips quickly silence him as you kiss him again. He moans into it, the feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking him lightly and your lips on his.

Your tongue pushes through his lips as you stroke him a few more times, squeezing him lightly in a way that has his back arching off the bed, pushing into your hand even more.

Panting, you pull back a little. "Such a good boy for me, Minnie." Before you're pinning his hips to the couch and looking at him one more time for conformation.

Then you pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift movement.

And then he does see stars as you slide yourself over his hips, grinding against his bare cock.

He thinks he tells you he loves you, that he worships you, that he adores you more than anyone on this planet. He thinks his hand squeezes yours so hard that you bring it to your lips, kissing his hand and telling him to relax. He thinks you grind against him slow and gingerly, watching to see his reactions.

Like he'd ever tell you to stop.

He'd rather die.

Shoot him in the head if he ever tell you to stop, because it sure as hell isn't him.

Again, he thinks. But he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything really right now.

His head is a mess of sensations and feelings, whines pouring from his mouth until you kiss him again and again and again.

Whispering that he's a good boy.

He's going to cum, he's going to cum.

Stars explode behind his eyes as they roll back and he isn't even inside of you yet.

And then you stop.

And he thinks tears might be rolling down his cheeks. He needs you, he needs you so fucking bad.

"Please, please, please." He pants, trying to roll his hips up against you, failing to find any contact as you sit back on your haunches, just out of his reach. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you so bad!"

You push sweaty hair out of his face, kissing the back of his hand one more time before you pull away entirely. He whimpers and you coo. "Be patient baby, just need to do something."

He watches blearily as you pull off your shorts and tries to calm his racing heart and heavy breaths as you roll a condom over his length.

"One more minute baby," you hush as you kiss him. "Are you ready?"

He nods desperately, of course he is. He's waiting for this for so long. He's wanted you for so long. He's going to go insane if you don't-

He gasps.

You groan as you slide down his length, slowly burying him inside of you until he bottoms out.

If he though grinding was intense, this was like nothing he could've ever imagined. His mouth gapes open, an endless stream of whiney moans and needy whimpers flooding into the room, feeding into you as you lift up and sink onto his again, groans of your own mixing with his.

He can't think anymore - he doesn't want to. He only wants to fall into the feeling of your walls squeezing around his dick, warm and wet as you ride him and the feeling of your hand once again finding his.

Whispering into his ear that you love him so much as you turn his head into mush

"I…I can-" Minho tries his best to talk, to tell you how good he feels. He really does, but whenever the thought comes to mind, it just gets cut off with the liquid heat coursing through his veins.

By the intense feeling of everything that is you.

He's an idiot for not asking you to fuck him sooner.

"Yeah, baby?" You chuckle breathlessly when he fails to complete his sentence. "You feel yourself inside?" You bring your interlaced fingers to your lower abdomen, "You feel it?"

All he can do is respond with a loud sob as he nods his head to your question, hips bucking up into you, desperate to chase the high quickly approaching ever since you've touched him.

He's not going to last much longer.

"You fit so well inside me," you murmur.

He's going to cum. Of this, he's sure.

"Please!' He hiccups, but he's not sure what he's pleading for. "P-please!" For more? For less? For something - anything to stave off the inevitable, he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want it to ever end.

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. You flutter kisses over his face, so softly compared to how you're fucking him into the couch so roughly.

"I love you, Minho."

"I love you so much!" He pants and squeezes your hand, his other grabbing onto the nape of your neck as he shoves your lips against his.

He's fucking beautiful, you think. Cute and pretty and beautiful, under you, falling apart.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your own name against you lips, pleading between sloppy kisses for you to let him cum, to let him cum for you. 

You show your approval with a collision of lips and teeth and tongue as he tips over the edge and you follow suit. He sobs as he cums, shivering violently as waves of pleasure roll over his body, his back lifting into an arch, pushing himself deep into you with a followed whine.

Each moan and whine are muffled by your tongue pushing into his mouth but his hips still grind as he pushes himself into overstimulation, whining until you have mind enough to still his hips.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, both catching your breath as you pull away, looking at him.

"Minho?" His eyes are shut and his cheeks are painted red. "You okay baby?"

He murmurs something you don't catch, but you don't tease as you push the hair out of his face, sweat-soaked and tired, kissing his forehead once.

You make a move to get up off of him but he only wraps his arms around you, holding you in place. "Don't leave," he whispers, looking up at you with tired eyes. "Just stay, please. For a little bit?"

His sleepy eyes make your heart skip a beat. "Who are you and where's my Minho?" You tease softly, but give in nonetheless.

"Fuck you." But his tone is with filled with anything but malice, as he nuzzles into you like a happy cat.

"I just did." You giggle.

"I love you so much." He mutters, kissing your shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."

"And I love you too."

a/n: I did it ^-^, who's proud of me!! also haven't written reader being penetrated in a looooong time, so if it's shit, oh well :p

“t-too good,” he’d whine, attempting to cage your head between his trembling thighs; it’s no use with the way your arms lock his legs down so you could concentrate. chan’s desperation to orgasm washes over him as you lap up at his sweet clit, taking your time to taste his juices in between flicks. the savory taste of his folds paired with the delicious whimpers only spur you on. you could eat him out for hours.

“y-y/n,” he stutters, “i’m close!” and he instinctively tries to push you away from his cunt, but your lips are attached to his aching clit and it feels so good. too good. chan’s head spins even more when you shove your fingers inside him and you clamp his clit in between your lips and tongue. chan creams all over you, embarrassed at how wet and sticky his cum is, but you eat it and show your tongue to his shy face.

“you’re so sensitive, channie.”

— minho

it’s no surprise that your favorite catboy has one hell of a pussy to play with. there’s something about his that screams addictive to you: maybe it’s the taste of it. he’s particularly sweet, surprising for a boy who creams more than he squirts. it doesn’t help that of all the places on his cunt, his hole is heartwarmingly delicious, as if it was made for your tongue to stick inside. minho loves it when you’re casual with it. any agenda of his to out-brat your other boys is thrown out the window every time you caress his pussy and stick a finger inside his creamy walls.

“so needy for a boy who claims to hate this,” you smirk, “aren’t you such a liar?”

“i’m not,” minho’s voice vibrates, “just stop making it feel good!”

but of course, you don’t stop. you keep going. you dip your head down to his cunt and replace your fingers with your tongue every now and then, sometimes biting his thighs when he dares to close his legs around you. he barely speaks until he’s a squeaking mess, begging and creaming on your fingers in an endless orgasm that just won’t stop.

“don’t pull out,” minho pleads with wide eyes while he shoves your fingers back inside his sticky cunt. “i want to feel full.”

— changbin

puffy, pretty, and pink. his hole hides cutely behind chubby lips and it’s delightfully sensitive along the sides. he loves being penetrated most, his nerves connecting and jolting best when you stretch his tight hole with yourself. whether it be fingers or a cock, changbin gets shy yet increasingly more greedy with every thrust of anything that enters his cunt.

“am i a good boy?” he asks every now and then. you reassure him with kisses that yes, he’s indeed so good, taking the biggest dildo so well even if it’s pushing his limit. he’s unsurprisingly a size king, which is surprising considering how tight he is. even if the monster cock toy leaves him gaping, his pussy has the magical ability to revert back to being too small for your two fingers right after.

“i want to cum!” he whines over and over, chasing your lips for another kiss while he bounces on the dildo again. he loves workouts but his body is so sore from bouncing. it doesn’t help that, instead of helping him finish, you simply push down on his puffy tummy and let him feel the whole size of the toy inside him.

you ask “is it good?” and he nods speechlessly, only to respond seconds later with a loud whimper. you look down to see his cream leaking down the dildo, coating all of it in his juice. when you finally pull the toy out, changbin whines into your warmth, hiding his pretty pussy as his cum seeps out all the way onto your thighs.

— hyunjin

hyunjin’s biggest kink is to get creampied, so he did something behind your back. he ordered a cumming dildo, and of course, used it right away. his cunt couldn’t be any more excited — the only thing rivaling how sopping wet he gets is when you’re actually playing with him. hyunjin could settle with this for now, his pussy only dripping more until his panties got soaked as he connected the cum lube to the toy.

from how wet he was, the big toy slid in with ease; he felt like crying as soon as it hit his limit, squishing his insides even if the toy hasn’t filled him up with cum yet. so, as he would do with you, he moved his hips to “please” the dildo and felt the toy all the way inside. his instinct to be bred, one that came along with having a cunt as beautiful as his, overloaded his system as he greedily rode the toy. he definitely minded when you came in the room to help him, though.

“y/n, please, breed me!”

cutely enough, his moans fill the room as you pressed the mole on the side of his pussy. your laughter along with your hands helping his hips down made him leak cum, but he didn’t dare stop. you grabbed the end of the toy and squeezed cum to load out of it, which only urged hyunjin to keep going. the cum filled him up slightly, but not quite — the boy kept bouncing so as to “empty” the cock inside him. that was, until the toy finally emptied, hyunjin’s body spent after five consecutive orgasms. the cum seeped out, flooding out of his beautifully folded lips like a waterfall of delight.

“good boy,” you say, “how about you get the real thing, hmm?”

— han jisung

his pussy is the freakiest, having tasted it all from your antics: he’s taken vibrators in public and he lost his pussy’s virginity to you. who wouldn’t treat it as cruelly as you do? why not, when jisung tends to leak his wet essence messily each time you play with it, especially since he’s tried so many toys with you?

the one toy jisung hasn’t tried yet was a dildo machine. he can immediately feel the heat pooling in his core at the mere sight of you stroking the dildo, teasing him by previewing the speed controller. his legs instinctively closed and tightened firmly to hide the wetness running down his leg. but jisung blinked twice, and unbelievably instantly, he was suddenly on all fours in front of the machine.

“wait—” he asked, but you didn’t hesitate one bit when you slid the dildo into his cunt.

the machine starts pumping slowly into the boy, stretching him fully and filling him up to his limit before slowly pulling back to leave him empty. then it would thrust back inside again, the squelching of his leaky pussy filling the air alongside his moans and cries. jisung held his ass up high as he melted onto the carpet, drooling and relishing in the picked-up pace.

an orgasm started before he could even prepare, jisung whining loudly not even five minutes into the machine action, before the toy slides out — jisung squirts everywhere without warning, his clear and sweet cum making its way on your thigh even if you were on the couch. that’s how messy he always gets, but he’s never came this fast.

“that’s all? i didn’t buy this for you to cum in three minutes,” you smirk, pushing him back down on the toy.

— felix

something about a freckled pussy is just too cute to you. you loved kissing felix’s cunt for the sole reason that it was just so adorable. the shape of it, the color of it, even the starry sky of freckles littered around his pussy. there’s a lot to kiss, a lot to love, a lot to destroy.

given the oversensitivity of felix’s nerves down his crotch area, it’s easy to overstimulate him. even something as light and lovely as the pecks you leave on the beauty marks and freckled skin gets him writhing. “but i love your pretty pussy,” you justify, leaving lipstick marks all over his cunt in the process.

feeling your lips on his pussy lips is heaven to him. felix grabs onto the sheets, too scared to pull on your head, jutting his hips upwards so that you could kiss him better. it’s all over when you kiss his clit though, all of his nerves reigniting at once as lightning strikes through his core. he instantly gets wet, essence spilling on your bottom lip and chin in the process.

“s-sorry, didn’t mean to…” he could almost cry from the pleasure and the rising need. he feels you smile, even if your face is hovering over him now and not touching his skin in the slightest. he still feels it without looking — he’s too shy now, burying his face in the pillow to the side.

but you’re not done.

you take two fingers down his slit, teasing his severely wet entrance, but it’s all a distraction. felix waits for you to put it in, let him cum, get it over with. the rare impatience grows within the usually patient boy until he feels pain shoot up.

you bit his clit. and it feels so good that he squirts under you, wiggling under you like a poor little boy.

— seungmin

what you don’t expect of seungmin is for him to admit that he’s a squirter. he confessed it in a dirty party game once and ever since then, it’s been your life’s mission to see it in action. you knew that he’d always been so incredibly wet every time he came, but he apparently squirts like a fountain personally sculpted by god.

as you slide your fingers through his cunt, his pussy squelches sinfully. it drenches the sheets beneath him, coating everything in a savory essence that can only be described as a natural aphrodisiac. the wet sounds paired with seungmin’s shy whimpers fills you with an aggression you can’t express without a necessary gentleness on his pussy. as poetic as it is literal, even the scent of his cunt is enough to drive you down between his legs, ready to ruin him.

“no, n-no, don’t do that! i’ll squirt—” seungmin chokes on his own words as your fingers hook his sweet spot, clit violated by your tongue and lips. he practically screams as you bite through your lips, jolting everywhere as his body readies itself for a full orgasm. “i-i can’t take it, too much, too much!”

begs and pleas fill the room for you to both stop and keep going, his grip on your head either pushing you away and pulling you in, he doesn’t know either. but before he could even spare a second thought, he jolts his hips up, followed by a powerful stream of wet cum. he soaks you fully, apologizing with his face behind his hands. you open his fists and kiss his cheeks happily, making him smile contently.

— jeongin

there’s nothing more for him to be confident about than of his freshly shaved pussy. he promised to be a good boy for you on this date night, and in the off-chance that you were going to treat him, then he had to be at his best. now here you both were, making out on the couch, jeongin whimpering because the both of you were still fully clothed after an hour of teasing.

“what’s wrong?” you ask. “i wanna show you my pussy…” jeongin shyly asks, every shroud of prior confidence leaving him as the desperation kicks in. you only chuckle in response, the delightful sound making his clit firm in excitement. but you don’t do anything. it’s a part of your teasing, sure, but he’s been waiting so excruciatingly long for you and it shows through his needy whines.

jeongin finally takes it upon himself to tug at your tie; you pull down at the hem of his pants , revealing his panties, only to shove both down in only two swift moves. it catches jeongin by surprise, but it’s nothing compared to the shock on your face to see his clean pussy.

you love him hairy and you love him clean, you don’t really mind either. jeongin’s still the same, the prettily creamy folds presenting themselves to you along with a hidden slit that can only be described as angelically cute. you finger it immediately, all teasing discarded along with both your clothes, and your haste brings him over the edge. “y/n,” he pants, your name being the only thing on the tip of his tongue as he immediately creams all over your hands.