#switch jisung

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

“I wouldn’t sleep through my favorite movie.”

“Really?” You cocked an eyebrow up with a growing smile, meeting his eyes which had become as baggy as his shirt.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m pretty sure that I know every line from that movie; I used to watch it all the time growing up.”

You chuckled a little at his oh-so-common habit of forgetting the little things. “I’m pretty sure you have told me that before.”

“And I told you how I wanted to learn the piano song as well? And--”

“--and it was too hard for you to learn?” You snickered, “You’ve told me that as well. Someone’s sleepy brain needs to get some rest...can you put the laptop over on the desk for me real quick?”

“Sure.” He nodded, and tore off the fluffy down comforter off of the two of you. You had wished that he had given a warning considering the sudden blast of cold air that met your bare legs when he did so. At the same time, you could never stay mad at him for long, not when he looked like that.

Jisung looked perfectly cuddly in that moment--even more so than usual. His long white tee made it look like he wasn’t wearing his boxers at all, and his hair was perfectly tussled into an adorable looking mess from resting on you. You looked down to his legs and all you wanted was to have them entangled with yours. He turned to return back to bed when you noticed that the little mole on his right collarbone had made an appearance. You made a note to give it a kiss as soon as you got the chance.

As soon as Jisung was back in the bed where it was all toasty, everything felt right again. “Reach the light?

“M’kay.” You answered to twist the switch.

Once all of the lights were off, the two of you sunk into each other, completely wrapped up as close as you possibly could be, skin on skin, the softness of fabric; you could feel him gently breathing from where he had pulled your head into his chest.

He sighed deeply, exhaling. You were half expecting him to concede and tell you that he really was feeling tired, when he whispered the exact opposite. “Well now that I’m awake I can’t fall back asleep.”

“But I thought you said you weren’t sleeping...?” You let out a breathy laugh which made him draw you in closer.

“Shhhh.” He hushed. Jisung then took his hands to the back of your head where he began to play with your hair, massaging your scalp slightly. The sensation was amazingly relaxing and you started to feel your own eyes grow heavy...

You whispered into the dark room, “Mmm that feels so nice.”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I...heh...don’t get mad at me for this one but...I’m kind of...you know...”

You pulled your head back, knowing exactly what he meant.

“Right now?”

“...yeah.”

“Is there like a reason, or something? I mean, I wasn’t really doing anything--”

“--There doesn’t need to be a reason...honestly.” Even in the dark of the room you could feel his little nervous smile. “But I mean, we’re in bed, and I’ve got you: so soft and warm all around me, in my arms...are you surprised? You just do that to me.” Jisung’s hand migrated over to rest on your cheek, carefully caressing it with his thumb.

The more that he talked about it, the more you lost yourself in him...as usual. He really had an effect on you as well. You suddenly became even more aware of your legs intertwined and the pressure it created.

“We don’t have to, or-or we could keep it short, I know that you have work tomorrow.”

“Are you trying to convince me to mess around with you right now?” You asked with a creeping smirk in the corner of your mouth.

Jisung shied his head away slightly. “Kind of.”

Upon his words you felt it. Down where you had nearly straddled your legs around him, he was growing harder and you could feel him lightly throbbing. It was a lot to show just for talking.

His breaths quickened and he pulled your head in closer to his, ghosting his lips over yours letting his hot breath tickle your skin. You knew that he was aching to touch you, and you, him.

Jisung whispered on your lips, “Do you want to?”

Your response was quickly given to him when you crashed your lips into his, and he returned with so much hunger, you could have thought that he hadn’t been kissed in months--but of course that wasn’t true. The truth was you could never keep your lips off of him. He knew what it was like and how diligent you could be, making sure that he was covered in them, nothing untouched, and it drove him crazy.

You swung your leg over his hip, and pulled him into you with your thigh as he grabbed a huge handful of your skin to steady himself. His fingernails dug into you with a delightful sting, and you kept working on his mouth, dragging your lips over his both slow and fast, whatever he wanted, it was what you did. Your tongues met in the middle of the heat and slicked over each other with a taste that sent you reeling. Jisung moved his hands to your back where they snuck up your shirt and he traced gentle lines all over. To sweeten it all, you grinded down into his lap, seeking a sensation that your now soaked underwear craved.

“--fuck.” Jisung gasped into your mouth.

He hastily tugged your shirt to the side, lending eager hands to fondle your breasts while his lips never left yours. He had decided to slow down his pace a little bit as he ran over your mouth more, being careful like he didn’t want to scare you. His fingers started to twist your nipples lightly and they quickly hardened. Below your hips, your whole core started to whine with desire for the warmth of his mouth to give it attention. Jisung pinched your bud just right, and it sent you gasping for air against him.

“You like that?” He jested for a second, even you could still see his bright smile in the darkness of the room.

You nodded quickly, hoping he would keep going if you said less.

“God.” He marveled at you for a minute. “You’re just so--”

“--Are you about to say something cheesy Han Jisung?” You lifted your arms to trace the outlines of his shoulder blades behind him, giggling.

“You’re everything.” He leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead before letting his hands get back to work. He buried his head into your neck, fluttering kisses everywhere that he could only pausing to suck lightly. “You’re...my...everything.” He got out between kisses.

“You’re my...Jisung...” You tugged at his back while he kept flicking your sensitive buds between his fingers. When he was doing so you couldn’t keep your thoughts straight. You wanted so badly to tell him a million words and more about how he was your whole world too, but all you could manage was, “Please...more.”

“You want more baby?”

“Ye--”

He swooped down to bring his mouth to your hard bud, twisting his tongue around it while he cupped it too. With his tongue flat he looked up to you with his gorgeous brown eyes. From how good he was at just this, you could feel yourself getting closer by the second. Your legs crossed tightly to try and relieve some of the pressure. You scraped your nails up his back, getting impatient and eliciting a low groan from him.

“I’m ready.” You prompted and he immediately knew what you wanted, you didn’t even have to say a word.

Jisung cascaded kisses down your stomach, giving some well planned ones to your waist when he got there to give special attention the the stretch marks there. Ever since you had mentioned not liking them, he couldn’t keep his lips off them.

“Gorgeous.” He calmly said, and settled between your thighs.

Your body jerked when he took his thumb to lightly rub circles into your clit, bringing little moans and gasps from your lips. Jisung mischievously snickered to himself over the power that he held over you. He would stop rubbing every few seconds just to hear you whine. At last he pulled your underwear from your legs and you felt the touch of his fingers directly on your clit; he used his other hand to pull your leg back, digging into it like before and it made your whole body shiver. At this point, you had absolutely no control over the sounds coming from your mouth. Wherever he touched, you felt electric.

He darted his pointed tongue around your clit in circles, then would switch to lapping at it agonizingly slow. Over time, your whimpers became more and more desperate.

“Do you wanna cum?” He asked with cockiness laced in his voice.

Your thighs had began to shake without warning. “Ye-yes.”

“Then do it. Cum for me.” Jisung commanded, returning back to his work.

Your mind went completely blank once your orgasm hit you hard. It came it waves, and it only made you shake harder.

After a little chuckle in spite of himself, he brought himself back up to give you more kisses, holding your face is his hands once again.

You came down, feeling more energized than before, and even more desperate to do one thing.

“Your turn.” You commanded of him now, shoving him to his back, leaving a surprised look on his adorably squirrel-like face.

You hastily pulled his shirt up to ravage his chest with your mouth, dragging your burning lips all over the skin and tasting every bit of him that you could. From the sensation he appeared to melt into the bed, taking in shaky inhales while he tangled his fingers in your hair. Just a bit farther down, he was still throbbing under his boxers.

“You ready?” You quickly asked, and he nodded back, teeth catching his bottom lip.

He helped you snag off his boxers, revealing his dripping member pink and ready. You thought to yourself how it just was just so fucking cute when he was excited like that. Instinctually your mouth started to gather with saliva. You decided to use your hand first, pumping it slow and hard, just as you knew that he liked it.

“oh shit--” He moaned out. The words got caught a little in his throat, and that only made him sound even more heavenly.

His eyes were closed, but yours were drawn to him as you kept going. Watching him like this made you feel a surge of confidence that was like a drug. You could do this to him.

“m-more.”  

“Look who is asking for more now?” You grinned.

“Y/n. please. You’re driving me fucking crazy.” His grip tightened on your head.

“You want it like this?”

Without a warning you brought your mouth down to the tip and started licking around it in long strokes and bringing it in just slightly, you didn’t want him feeling all of you just yet.

“oh god.”

“Feels good?”

“Yes. Fuck yes. Just--keep going.”

You teased him for just a little longer than you usually did, just to see what would happen. Of course you should have expected, the longer you waited, the more of a mess he became.

“Y/n, fuck, please.”

You finally caved. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

You brought your head all the way down, taking him completely in and squeezing with your hand just as hard. You hollowed your throat down to take in as much of him as you could without gagging: over the past few months you had perfected it.

“shit-I’m close.” Jisung hissed and buckled his hips.

You took his announcement as an indicator to speed up, so you did. Jisung’s moans and frustrated sighs fueled you further with how beautiful and downright erotic as they sounded. When he came it was unreal, his breaths were so fast one after the other it was almost like he was suffocating with his own pleasure. You held him firmly in your mouth as he finished throbbing, not sacrificing one drop.

As soon as he had a moment to breathe, he pulled you back into his arms and attacked you with kisses all over your face, it didn’t matter where; he was smiling through every one of them. He would pull back then to admire you one more time and your hair which was now in knots thanks to his grip from before.

“that was...”

“Amazing?”

“Yes.” He grinned and gave you a peck to your forehead. “And now I’m tired. I guess we succeeded in more ways than one.”

The two of you put your clothes back on from the light of phone flashlights then crawled back in, sweeping the comforter over top of you once again.

“Jisung?” you nuzzled into him, inhaling his comforting scent all around you.

“Mmm?”