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19
seungmin biased 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
‘Cause every time we touch, i get this feeling, every time we kiss, i swear i could fly.’
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Requests open
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Hiiii idk if you accept requests but I wanted to ask if it’s possible to write a continuation of „your sisters a bitch“ but now reader isn’t only together with seungmin but they all finally realised they like each other an now it’s skz x reader(poly) and the sister doesn’t know it for quite a long time even if they’re all principled obvious and don’t hide but she then discovers it and idk tries something or just is in denial or anything
Love you 💋 xx
Hiiii thank you so much for the request i love getting them! I’ll get working on it right away but it may take a while as i’m aiming for a similar word count as my previous one but i’ll tag you in the post when i finish it <333
‘Your sister is a bitch’
Seungmin x f!reader (implied poly skz)
Synopsis: When your sister tries to steal Seungmin, he makes one thing painfully clear: he only has eyes for you.
A/n: omgg this took so long to edit ive been putting this off for ages but i finally did it! I also couldn’t help but sprinkle in some poly skz x reader lmaooa
Wc: 20.1k
The first warning came when your sister texted you three times that morning to ask exactly when you and Seungmin would be arriving. The second came when she opened the front door wearing a dress you distinctly remembered her describing as far too nice for family things.
You looked at her. She looked at you.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. Then Seungmin appeared behind you, one hand holding a neatly wrapped cake box and the other resting comfortably against the small of your back. “Hi,” he said brightly. Your sister’s entire expression changed.
“Seungmin.” She smiled as though she had been expecting him personally. “Finally.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. He glanced down at you. His eyebrows lifted slightly.
Finally? You bit the inside of your cheek. Your sister stepped aside to let you both in, although she somehow managed to position herself so Seungmin had to pass close to her. He murmured a polite thank you and guided you ahead of him with a gentle hand at your waist. You had been dating long enough that the gesture barely registered anymore. Seungmin was always touching you in small, absent-minded ways—his fingers brushing yours as you walked, his palm settling on your knee beneath tables, his hand finding the back of your coat when you crossed a road.
It was rarely dramatic. It was simply constant. Your sister noticed. Her gaze dropped to his hand before moving back to his face.
“You look different in person,” she told him. Seungmin paused while removing his shoes. “Do I?” “Better.”
You turned away before either of them could see your smile. Seungmin placed his shoes neatly beside yours, then leaned closer to whisper, “Am I supposed to say she does too?” “No.” “Good.”
You elbowed him lightly. He caught your arm and squeezed it against his side, looking pleased with himself. Your sister was still watching. “You brought something?” she asked, nodding towards the box in his hand.
“Cake,” Seungmin said. “Your mum said she liked the one from that bakery near our flat.” “That was thoughtful.” “She sent him a photograph of it with the address circled,” you said. Seungmin looked offended.
“She provided helpful guidance.” “She threatened to disown me if we arrived without it.” “Still thoughtful.” “You didn’t even pay for it.”
“I carried it.” “You made me carry it on the train.” “For part of the journey.” “You said your arm hurt.”
“It did.” “Because you spent the entire morning playing games.” Seungmin smiled at your sister. “She has no sympathy for my suffering.” “None,” you confirmed.
Your sister laughed a little too enthusiastically. Not because the conversation had been particularly funny, but because Seungmin was smiling while he said it. You noticed. You also noticed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear before asking, “Do you want me to take that for you?”
She reached for the cake. Seungmin shifted it away automatically. “No, it’s all right. I’ve been entrusted with it.” “He’ll cry if anything happens to it,” you said.
“I’ll tell your mum it was your fault.” “You see what I live with?” Seungmin bumped his shoulder against yours. “You love it.” You opened your mouth to disagree.
He looked down at you expectantly, the beginnings of a grin already pulling at his lips. You hated how well he knew you. “Whatever,” you said. “There it is.”
He bent and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before following the sound of your mother calling from the kitchen. Your sister remained by the door with you. She watched him leave. Then she looked at you.
“You never said he was that handsome.” You blinked. “You’ve seen photographs.” “Photographs are different.” “I suppose.”
“He’s taller than I thought.” You stared at her. She stared back, seemingly unaware that there was anything strange about the intensity of her assessment. “Do you need his measurements?” you asked. “I can check the label in his coat.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was only saying.” “Right.” “You don’t have to be weird about it.”
“I’m not being weird.” “You’re doing that face.” “What face?” “The face you do when you think you’re funny.”
“I am funny.” “Seungmin clearly thinks so.” There was something strange beneath the words. Something slightly too pointed. Before you could decide whether you had imagined it, she smiled and linked her arm through yours.
“Come on. Mum’s been panicking over lunch for an hour.” She pulled you towards the kitchen as though nothing had happened. You let her. At that point, it was easier.
౨ৎ
Your mum adored Seungmin. That was hardly news. She adored him because he arrived on time, complimented her cooking, remembered details from conversations they had months ago and always insisted on helping clear the table. Your dad liked him because Seungmin could discuss football with convincing enthusiasm and had once spent nearly forty minutes helping him fix a temperamental television.
Even your relatives who had only met Seungmin briefly tended to approve of him. He was polite without seeming rehearsed, funny without demanding attention and attentive in a way that made people feel remembered. Your sister had apparently taken all of these qualities as an invitation. At first, you didn’t think much of it.
She asked him about work. Normal. She asked about the other members. Also normal. She asked whether he enjoyed travelling, what food he liked and whether he preferred going out or staying at home. A little interview-like, perhaps, but not particularly suspicious.
Then she moved from the chair opposite him to the empty one beside him when your mother asked her to fetch another plate. You looked at the abandoned chair. Then at her. She smiled innocently and crossed one leg over the other.
Seungmin glanced towards you. You were sitting on his other side, close enough that your knees touched beneath the table. He nudged your foot. You nudged him back.
His mouth twitched. Your sister leaned towards him. “So,” she said, “what did you think when you first met her?” You nearly inhaled your drink.
Seungmin turned towards you slowly. “Oh, no,” you said. His eyes brightened. “Oh, yes.”
“Don’t.” “I thought she was very strange.” Your mother laughed from the other end of the table. You stared at him. “That isn’t what you said before.”
“You told me not to embarrass you in front of your family.” “And this is you behaving?” “This is me being generous.” Your sister laughed, resting her hand against Seungmin’s arm.
It was light. Brief enough that she could claim it meant nothing. Still, you saw it. Seungmin looked down at her fingers. Your sister removed them a moment later, smiling as though the contact had been accidental.
“What did you actually think?” she asked. Seungmin looked back at you. The teasing softened around the edges. “I thought she was pretty.”
The answer was simple enough to make warmth spread through your chest. Then his smile returned. “Until she spoke.” You kicked his shin beneath the table.
He flinched dramatically. “See?” he told your family. “Violence.” “You deserved that.” “I complimented you.”
“You immediately ruined it.” “I said you were pretty.” “You said I was strange.” “You are strange.”
Your sister tilted her head. “I suppose you must usually date girls who are quite different from her.” The sentence slipped into the conversation so smoothly that it took you a second to understand it. Seungmin frowned slightly. “Different how?”
Your sister shrugged. “You know. More… elegant.” Your father suddenly became very interested in cutting his food. Your mother looked up.
You glanced down at yourself. You were wearing a jumper and trousers. Nothing particularly inelegant, unless your sister was counting the tiny mark on your sleeve from where Seungmin had flicked sauce at you in the kitchen. Seungmin followed your gaze. Then he looked at your sister.
“No,” he said. “I like this one.” You pressed your lips together. “This one?” you repeated. He patted your knee beneath the table.
“My favourite.” “I’m so flattered.” “You should be.” Your sister laughed, but there was something strained about it.
“I only meant that you seem very put together.” “I’m not,” Seungmin said cheerfully. “She found me looking for my phone this morning while I was talking to someone on it.” He looked towards your mother. “You raised a very critical daughter.” Your mum smiled. “She gets it from me.”
“Good to know.” The conversation moved on, but your sister did not return to her original chair. Every few minutes, she found another reason to address Seungmin directly. Did he like the food?
Had he visited the restaurant she mentioned? Did he think her hair looked better dark or light? That one made you turn. She lifted a section of her hair between her fingers.
“I’ve been thinking of changing it,” she explained. “What do you think?” Seungmin blinked. “I don’t know.” “You must have a preference.”
“For your hair?” She laughed as though he had made a joke. “Generally.” He looked at you. You had stopped pretending not to listen.
A hint of mischief appeared in his expression. “I like hers.” You narrowed your eyes. “You said I’d look good bald.” “You would.”
“That doesn’t count.” “It shows versatility.” Your sister’s hand fell from her hair. “You’re lucky,” she told you.
The words sounded pleasant. The way she looked at Seungmin did not. You raised an eyebrow. “I know.” “I mean, you’ve never really cared about things like that.”
“Things like what?” “Your appearance.” Silence settled over the table. It wasn’t complete silence. Your father’s fork scraped faintly against his plate, and the clock in the hallway continued ticking.
But the conversation stopped. Your sister smiled as though she had offered you a compliment. “You’ve always been confident enough not to bother,” she added. You knew this routine.
It had existed long before Seungmin. Your sister would say something cruel with a pleasant expression, and if you reacted, she would insist you had misunderstood. That she admired your confidence. That she wished she could leave the house without making an effort. That you were lucky not to care what people thought. Normally, you could ignore it. Today, the comment felt particularly childish.
You opened your mouth, but Seungmin spoke first. “She spent forty minutes choosing that jumper.” You turned towards him in disbelief. Your sister laughed.
Seungmin continued, “Then she asked me which trousers looked better and ignored my answer.” You nudged his side with your elbow. He caught your hand before you could pull it away and linked your fingers beneath the table. The gesture was concealed from everyone else.
His thumb brushed once over your knuckles. You understood what he was doing. He hadn’t ignored your sister’s comment. He had simply refused to let it settle over you.
“She looks lovely,” your mother said firmly. “She does,” Seungmin agreed. Your sister’s smile tightened. “I never said she didn’t.”
“No one said you did,” you replied. Her gaze met yours. For a moment, something sharp passed between you. Then Seungmin squeezed your hand and leaned close enough that his shoulder pressed against yours.
“You have something on your face,” he whispered. You immediately touched your cheek. “Where?” “The other side.” You touched the other cheek.
“No, lower.” “Seungmin.” “A little lower.” You glared at him. “There’s nothing there, is there?”
He smiled. “You’re so easy.” You tried to pull your hand from his. He tightened his grip.
“Don’t be sulky.” “I hate you.” Your sister watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. You barely noticed.
౨ৎ
After lunch, your mother attempted to stop Seungmin from helping with the dishes. Seungmin ignored her. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, collected the empty plates and followed you into the kitchen. Your sister followed him.
Naturally. “You don’t have to do that,” she told him, taking a plate from his hands. “It’s fine.” “You’re a guest.”
“So is she.” Seungmin nodded towards you. You were leaning against the counter eating a piece of cake. Your sister looked at you.
“She’s family.” “She isn’t helping.” “I’m supervising,” you said. “You’re eating the dessert we haven’t served yet.”
“I’m checking it for poison.” Seungmin set the plates beside the sink. “And?” You took another bite.
“Still collecting evidence.” He reached towards your plate. You moved it out of reach. “Get your own.”
“I bought it.” “I paid for it.” “With our money.” “We don’t have shared finances.”
Your sister laughed again. “You two are funny.” You glanced at her. The compliment sounded genuine enough, but her eyes remained fixed on Seungmin.
He turned on the tap. Your sister stepped beside him. “I’ll wash,” she offered. “I can do it.”
“You dry, then.” You watched her pick up a sponge. Your mother called your name from the living room, asking whether you could help her find something. You pushed yourself away from the counter.
“Don’t eat my cake,” you warned Seungmin. “I would never.” “You absolutely would.” He placed one hand over his heart.
“Your lack of trust is upsetting.” You pointed the fork at him. “I’ll know.” “Go away.” You reluctantly carried the plate with you.
As you left the kitchen, you glanced back. Your sister had moved slightly closer to Seungmin. He was focused on rinsing a plate. You nearly stayed.
Then you caught yourself. It was your sister. Seungmin was your boyfriend. Nothing was going to happen because the two of them spent ninety seconds alone beside a sink.
You found your mother’s glasses on top of her head, endured several minutes of her insisting she had already checked there and returned to the kitchen. Your sister was speaking. “…must get tiring.” Seungmin passed her another plate. “What does?”
“Dating someone so different from you.” You stopped just outside the doorway. Seungmin didn’t appear to notice you. He frowned. “You’ve said that a few times.”
“I don’t mean it badly.” “What do you mean?” Your sister dried the plate slowly. “You’re very disciplined. Ambitious. You take care of yourself.”
He waited. “And she isn’t?” “She’s just more relaxed.” Seungmin looked down at the soapy water.
You knew that expression. He was choosing his words. Your sister mistook his silence for agreement. “I’ve always been more like you,” she continued. “Even when we were younger. People used to say I was the more responsible one.”
“Did they?” “And the more confident one.” Seungmin made a small sound that could have meant anything. Your sister smiled.
“It’s funny, really. Most people usually notice me first.” He glanced at her. “Okay.” You pressed your lips together.
She appeared thrown by the response. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant.” “Then don’t.” The answer was delivered so lightly that for a second, you wondered whether you had heard him correctly.
Your sister laughed uncertainly. “I’m only being honest.” Seungmin rinsed another plate. “About people noticing you?”
“Yes.” “Congratulations.” You had to cover your mouth. Your sister’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You must have noticed that we’re quite different.” “I’ve noticed.” “I’m probably more like your usual type.” Seungmin finally turned off the tap.
He looked at her properly. “What’s my usual type?” Your sister leaned one hip against the counter. “Confident. Sophisticated.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” “I’m guessing.” “You’ve guessed wrong.” She smiled as though he were teasing her.
“Have I?” “Yes.” Something about his tone should have ended the conversation. It didn’t.
Your sister lowered her voice. “She’s always been the sweeter one, I suppose. Men tend to like that.” Seungmin stared at her. Then his gaze moved past her shoulder and found you standing in the doorway.
His expression changed immediately. The irritation disappeared behind a slow, knowing smile. “How long have you been there?” he asked. Your sister turned sharply.
You lifted your plate. “Long enough to know you’ve been having a very interesting discussion about your type.” Seungmin dried his hands. “Apparently, I have one.”
“Do you?” “I’m learning a lot today.” Your sister straightened. “We were only talking.” “I heard.”
“There’s no need to make it strange.” You stepped into the kitchen and placed your half-finished cake on the counter. “I didn’t.” “No, but you’re doing that thing where you act territorial.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows rose. You laughed. “Territorial?” “You don’t need to hover every time another woman speaks to your boyfriend.” “I was helping Mum.”
“And then you came straight back.” “Because this is where my cake is.” Seungmin immediately reached for your plate. You slapped his hand away.
“See?” He looked wounded. “You care more about that cake than you care about me.” “The cake has never stolen my crisps.”
“It would if it could.” Your sister sighed. “You’re both impossible.” “Thank you,” Seungmin said.
You picked up your fork again. Your sister gave you a long look before placing the tea towel on the counter. “I’m going to see if Mum needs anything.” “She doesn’t,” you said. “Her glasses were on her head.”
Your sister ignored you and left. You waited until her footsteps had faded down the hall. Then you turned towards Seungmin. He was already looking at you.
A smile pulled at your mouth. “Your usual type?” He groaned and leaned back against the sink. “Please don’t.”
“Confident.” “Stop.” “Sophisticated.” “I’m warning you.”
“So much like her.” Seungmin reached for you. You dodged around the kitchen island, laughing when he followed. “I’m only being honest,” you said, mimicking your sister’s voice.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.” “Apparently she’s the woman of your dreams.” “My dreams have better conversational skills.” You gasped. “That was mean.”
“It was accurate.” He moved to one side of the island. You moved in the opposite direction. “I thought you liked confident women.”
“I like you.” “That wasn’t the question.” “It’s my answer.” “You’re only saying that because I caught you.”
“Caught me doing dishes?” “Seductively.” “I was wearing rubber gloves.” “Exactly. Very provocative.”
Seungmin stopped. You stopped too, watching him suspiciously from across the island. His expression softened. “Did that bother you?”
The question was quiet enough to dissolve some of your amusement. You considered it. “Not really.” “Not really?”
“I don’t think you’re secretly going to run away with my sister.” “That’s reassuring.” “I’d give you at least a week before you begged me to take you back.” “A week?”
“Maybe four days.” Seungmin looked offended. “I wouldn’t make it through the first evening.” You smiled. He continued to watch you.
“But?” he prompted. You looked down at your cake. “She does that sometimes.” “Does what?”
“Compares us.” You scraped your fork lightly through the icing. “She always has. She thinks she’s being subtle.” “She isn’t.” “I know.” “She also thinks I’m an idiot.”
You laughed. “Why?” “Because I’ve said I like you at least twelve times today, and she’s decided that means I’m interested in her.” “Maybe you’re sending mixed signals.” “I asked her to move because she was standing on my foot.”
“Very flirtatious.” “She apologised and touched my arm.” “Scandalous.” “She’s touched my arm six times.”
“You counted?” “I started counting when she asked whether I thought she looked better with dark hair.” You laughed again, and Seungmin smiled. Then he walked around the island.
This time, you let him reach you. His hands settled on your waist, drawing you between his knees as he leaned back against the counter. “For the record,” he said, “I don’t think you’re lucky.” “No?”
“No. I think I’m incredibly brave.” You flicked his shoulder. He caught your wrist and kissed your palm. “And lucky,” he added.
“That was nearly sweet.” “Don’t tell anyone.” You rolled your eyes, but your arms slipped around his shoulders. He tilted his head.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” “I’m fine.” “Your sister’s being strange.” “She thinks she can steal you.”
“Can she?” You pretended to consider it. Seungmin pinched your side. You squealed and tried to twist away, but he trapped you against him.
“Answer carefully,” he warned. “I don’t know. She is very sophisticated.” Another pinch. “And confident!”
He attacked your other side. You dissolved into helpless laughter, nearly dropping your fork as you attempted to escape. “Seungmin!” “Wrong answer.”
“She’s your type!” “Take it back.” “Never!” He caught both your wrists in one hand and used the other to tickle your waist.
You kicked uselessly at his legs. “You’re horrible!” “Take it back.” “Fine!” you gasped. “She isn’t your type.”
“And?” “And you don’t want her.” “And?” You stared at him, breathless.
His hair had fallen over his forehead during the struggle, and his smile was bright and boyish and entirely too pleased. “And you’re obsessed with me.” “There we go.” He released your wrists.
You immediately smacked his chest. Seungmin laughed and caught you against him again, pressing a noisy kiss to your cheek before you could complain. “You’re very annoying,” you told him. “You were laughing.”
“Against my will.” He kissed your other cheek. “Still counts.” Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
You both separated just before your mother entered the kitchen. She looked at Seungmin’s messy hair, your flushed face and the abandoned washing-up. Neither of you spoke. Your mother sighed.
“The dishes, Seungmin.” “I was doing them.” “He attacked me,” you said. “You provoked me.”
Your mother pointed at the sink. “Both of you.” “Yes, Mum,” you said. “Yes, Mum,” Seungmin echoed.
You turned to glare at him. He smiled innocently. Your mother left the room shaking her head. Seungmin bumped his hip against yours as he turned the tap back on.
“Pass me the sponge.” “You pass me the sponge.” “It’s closer to you.” “You’re closer to the sink.”
He looked towards the doorway, then lowered his voice. “Do you think your sister would do it for me?” You stared at him. He managed to hold a serious expression for approximately two seconds.
Then you shoved the sponge directly into his chest.
౨ৎ
When you finally prepared to leave, your mother packed enough food for several days into a bag and made Seungmin promise to visit again soon. Your sister stood in the hallway while you put on your coat. “You’re leaving already?” she asked. “We’ve been here for five hours,” you said.
“It doesn’t feel that long.” Seungmin bent to tie his shoelace. Your sister’s gaze lingered on him. “You should come over more often.”
“We will,” you replied. “I meant Seungmin.” He looked up. Your sister smiled. “You don’t need to wait for her. You’re practically part of the family now.”
There it was. Not quite enough to confront. More than enough to notice. Seungmin straightened.
“I think she’d be upset if I visited without her.” “I wouldn’t,” you said. “I’d enjoy the peace.” He placed one hand on top of your head and pushed down lightly. Your sister laughed.
“You’re very patient with her.” Seungmin looked at you. “No,” he said. “She’s patient with me.” For once, there was no joke attached.
His hand slid from the top of your head to the back of your neck, thumb brushing softly beneath your hair. Your sister’s smile faded for half a second. Then it returned. “Well,” she said, opening the door, “it was lovely seeing you.”
“You too,” Seungmin replied politely. She hugged you first. It was brief. Then she turned towards Seungmin.
You expected her to offer a wave. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him. Seungmin froze. His hands hovered uncertainly beside her shoulders.
Your eyes widened. Over your sister’s head, his gaze found yours. His expression was so openly alarmed that a laugh burst out of you. Your sister released him.
“What’s funny?” “Nothing.” Seungmin stepped immediately towards you. You were still laughing as he took the bag of food from your hand and placed his other arm securely around your shoulders.
Your sister glanced between you. “Text me when you’re home.” “I will.” She looked at Seungmin. “You have my number, don’t you?”
“No,” he said. “Oh.” She paused. “I thought you did.” “Why would he?” you asked. “In case of an emergency.”
Seungmin nodded. “I’ll call emergency services.” You choked on another laugh. Your sister’s mouth tightened. “I only meant if something happened with you.”
“He has Mum’s number.” “And her Dad’s,” Seungmin added. “And Chan’s,” you said. “And Minho’s.”
“He doesn’t need your number.” Your sister folded her arms. “You make everything sound strange.” “You asked my boyfriend whether he had your number.”
“For emergencies.” “Right.” Seungmin gently steered you through the doorway before either of you could continue. “Thank you for lunch,” he called politely.
Your mother called goodbye from somewhere inside the house. Your sister remained at the door while the two of you walked down the path. You could feel her watching. Seungmin’s arm stayed around you until you reached the pavement.
Then he leaned close. “Don’t look now.” You immediately looked back. Your sister was still standing in the doorway.
She lifted her hand when she saw you turn. You waved. Seungmin sighed. “I specifically said not to.”
“I don’t take instructions well.” “I know.” The door finally closed. You walked several more steps in silence.
Then Seungmin said, “Your sister wants me.” You stopped. He stopped beside you. The solemn expression on his face lasted less than a second before you both started laughing.
“Your confidence is disgusting,” you told him.
౨ৎ
Your sister arrived at your flat on Saturday afternoon wearing heeled boots, a fitted coat and enough perfume to announce her presence before you had even opened the door. You looked at her. Then at the small handbag hanging from her shoulder. Then back at her.
“You said you were coming to borrow my straighteners.” “I am.” “Are you planning to straighten your hair here?” “No.”
“Then why do you look like you’re going somewhere?” She frowned. “I’m meeting someone later.” “You didn’t mention that.” “I didn’t realise I needed to submit an itinerary.”
“You don’t.” “Then why are you interrogating me?” “I asked one question.” “You asked three.”
You stepped aside to let her enter. She walked past you, removing her coat as she went. The outfit beneath it was somehow even more carefully chosen. You watched her smooth the fabric over her waist before checking her reflection in the hallway mirror.
Interesting. Very interesting. “You could have texted,” you said, closing the door. “I would’ve brought the straighteners to Mum’s tomorrow.” “I was nearby.”
She wasn’t. Your sister lived nearly forty minutes in the opposite direction. You decided not to point that out. From the living room, Seungmin called, “Who is it?”
Your sister’s posture changed almost imperceptibly. Her shoulders pulled back. Her expression softened. You stared at her.
She ignored you. “Your favourite person,” you called. There was a pause. Then Seungmin replied, “Felix?”
You gasped. Your sister laughed. You marched into the living room, already preparing several punishments. Seungmin was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table.
A pale blue fabric headband held his hair away from his face, and there was a thin layer of clay mask drying across his cheeks because you had told him his skin looked tired. He had complained for eleven minutes. Then he had asked whether there was enough left for his forehead. Your left hand rested carefully on top of an old magazine while Seungmin held your right between both of his.
Three of your fingernails were painted. One was half-painted. The fifth had somehow acquired a streak of polish across your skin. Seungmin looked up as you entered.
The smile on his face widened. “There’s my second-favourite person.” You stopped in front of him. “Second?”
“Felix bakes for me.” “I cook for you.” “You once burned instant noodles.” “The packet was confusing.”
“You forgot the water.” “It didn’t say when to add it.” You placed one foot against his thigh and pushed lightly. Seungmin caught your ankle.
“No kicking near the nail polish.” “You deserve worse.” “You asked me to do this.” “And you’re doing a terrible job.”
He looked down at your nails. “They’re beautiful.” “There’s polish on my knuckle.” Your sister appeared behind you.
Seungmin glanced towards her. His expression flickered with surprise before settling into a pleasant smile. “Oh. Hi.” “Hi.”
Your sister looked him over. Her gaze paused at the headband. Then the face mask. Then your hand resting in his.
Her smile faltered, only slightly. “I didn’t know you were here.” You turned your head towards her. She knew.
You had mentioned it the previous evening when she asked what you were doing this weekend. Seungmin did not appear to remember that. “I live here sometimes,” he said. “You don’t,” you replied.
Your sister moved further into the room. “You look comfortable,” she said. Seungmin touched the edge of the headband. “This was forced on me.”
“You asked whether the bow should go in the middle,” you said. Your sister laughed, lowering herself onto the sofa behind him. “It suits you.” Seungmin looked up at her.
“The face mask?” “The headband.” He touched it again. “Thanks.”
Her smile brightened. You watched her tuck one leg elegantly over the other. Seungmin returned his attention to your hand. “Stop moving.”
“I’m not moving.” “You’re moving now.” “Because you told me not to.” He tightened his fingers around yours.
“If you smudge this one, I’m starting again.” “You’ve already smudged it.” “That was intentional.” “Was the polish on my skin intentional too?”
“Yes.” “What was the artistic vision?” “Annoying you.” You tried to pull your hand away.
Seungmin held on. “Stay still.” “You’re enjoying the authority.” “I rarely have any in this relationship.”
“Because you can’t be trusted.” Your sister leaned forwards. “You let him paint your nails?” You looked at her.
“He volunteered.” “I was coerced,” Seungmin said. “You said you could do it better than me.” “I can.”
You lifted your hand. He immediately lowered it again before the wet polish could run. “That remains to be seen.” Your sister tilted her head.
“I’d never ask my boyfriend to do something like that.” You glanced at Seungmin. He glanced at you. There it was again.
That tiny shared pause when both of you noticed something and decided, without speaking, whether it was worth reacting to. You smiled. “Good thing he isn’t your boyfriend, then.” Your sister’s expression tightened.
Only for a second. Then she laughed. “I only mean I’d feel bad making him do something so feminine.” Seungmin inspected your thumbnail.
“You think painting nails is feminine?” “Usually.” “Then I’m doing a very poor job of it.” You snorted.
He blew gently across your nail. Your sister watched his lips purse. “It’s sweet,” she said. “I just wouldn’t have expected it from you.” “What did you expect?” Seungmin asked.
“I don’t know.” She did know. You could tell by the way she leaned towards him. “Something more masculine, I suppose.”
Seungmin looked down at himself. He was wearing grey jogging bottoms, an old sweatshirt and your fluffy skincare headband. “I’m devastated.” “You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.” She smiled as though he were deliberately teasing her. “You seem like someone who’d usually want a very feminine girlfriend.” Seungmin’s brush paused.
You looked at your sister. She was looking at him. Not you. He lifted his eyes slowly.
“I do.” Your sister’s smile widened. Then Seungmin returned his attention to your hand. “That’s why I’m dating her.”
You pressed your lips together. Your sister glanced at you. You smiled pleasantly. Seungmin dipped the brush into the polish.
“She isn’t exactly what most people would call feminine,” your sister said. You raised your eyebrows. Seungmin’s hand stopped again. Your sister gestured towards you.
You were wearing one of Seungmin’s old shirts, a pair of shorts and fluffy socks. Your hair was twisted into a loose knot that had begun collapsing an hour ago. There was a faint smudge of clay mask beside your jaw where you had attempted to kiss Seungmin before it dried. You looked extremely comfortable. That had apparently become a flaw.
“I’m not?” you asked. “I didn’t mean it badly.” “Of course not.” “You’ve never cared about being girly.”
“I’m getting my nails painted.” “By your boyfriend.” “Yes.” “So?”
“So that feels relevant.” Your sister rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re not someone who gets dressed up around the house or worries about always looking attractive.” You looked down at yourself.
Then at Seungmin. His gaze had settled on your face. You recognised the slight narrowing of his eyes. Not anger.
Not yet. Attention. Your sister continued, “I just think it’s brave.” “Brave?” you repeated.
“To be that comfortable so early in a relationship.” You and Seungmin had been together for nearly two years. Apparently that remained early enough to maintain a constant state of glamour. “How does she normally dress at home?” Seungmin asked.
Your sister seemed pleased to have his attention again. “Like this.” “Right.” “She’s always been a little careless.”
“With clothes?” “With everything.” You laughed quietly. Your sister looked at you.
“What?” “Nothing.” Seungmin placed the nail brush carefully inside the bottle. Then he lifted your hand and examined his work.
“Perfect.” “It’s uneven.” “So are your fingers.” “My fingers aren’t uneven.”
“One’s shorter.” “They’re supposed to be different lengths.” “Convenient excuse.” He brought your hand towards his mouth.
You frowned. “What are you doing?” “Checking whether it’s dry.” “With your lips?”
“Yes.” “That makes no sense.” Seungmin pressed a delicate kiss to the side of your index finger, avoiding the wet nail. Then he kissed your knuckle.
Then your wrist. A smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself. “Dry,” he announced. “You didn’t touch the polish.”
“I’m an expert.” “You’re an idiot.” He kissed your wrist again. Your sister shifted on the sofa.
“You two are very…” She paused. “Affectionate.” “That sounded judgemental,” you said. “It wasn’t.” “It sounded a little judgemental,” Seungmin agreed.
“I only mean you don’t seem like the clingy type.” She was speaking to him again. Seungmin leaned back against your legs. “I’m not.”
You looked down at him. He looked up at you. “You’re currently using me as a chair.” “You’re comfortable.”
Seungmin smiled lazily, reaching behind himself until his hand found your knee. You threaded your fingers through his hair, careful not to disturb the headband. He immediately tilted his head into your touch. Your sister watched him do it.
Something in her expression hardened. “You always liked being fussed over,” she said to you. You looked at her. “What?”
“When we were younger. You always needed everyone’s attention.” The comment was casual. Almost playful. You knew better.
“I don’t remember that.” “You used to follow Mum around constantly.” “I was six.” “You cried whenever she left the room.”
“I was still six.” “You’ve never liked being alone.” Seungmin’s thumb stroked once over your knee. You shrugged.
“Good thing I don’t have to be.” Your sister’s eyes flicked towards his hand. “That’s what I mean. You need a lot from people.” There was a quietness beneath the words.
An implication she wanted Seungmin to catch. You were needy. Difficult. Exhausting.
The kind of girlfriend who demanded face masks and painted nails and constant affection. Your sister, naturally, would never require so much effort. Seungmin looked up at you. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” “Need a lot from me?” You pretended to consider it. “Well, you could make more tea.”
“I made the last one.” “You drank half of it.” “It became ours when you let me taste it.” “That’s not how sharing works.”
Your sister exhaled through her nose. “You make everything into a joke.” “You make everything very serious,” you replied. “I’m trying to have a conversation.”
“With my boyfriend?” “With both of you.” “You’ve mostly been looking at him.” The room went still.
Your sister blinked. Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. You hadn’t intended to say it quite so plainly. You weren’t upset.
Not yet. You were mostly curious to see what she would do when someone acknowledged the obvious. She recovered quickly. “I’m looking at whoever’s speaking.”
“He hasn’t been speaking.” “He literally just was.” You smiled. “All right.”
Your sister folded her arms. “You’re being strange again.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You implied something.”
“What did I imply?” “You know exactly what.” Seungmin’s hand slid around the back of your knee. His fingertips squeezed gently.
You looked down at him. He gave you a small, private smile. There was no concern in it. He knew you weren’t jealous.
Mostly, he appeared entertained. “You came for straighteners,” you reminded your sister. “I know.” “They’re in the bedroom.”
“Can you get them?” “You know where they are.” She hesitated. Her gaze moved towards the hallway, then back to Seungmin.
“I haven’t been in your bedroom since you moved things around.” “You’ll survive.” “I don’t want to go through your things.” “You’ve never had an issue before.”
Her mouth tightened. You smiled sweetly. “I’ll show you.” You gently extracted your hand from Seungmin’s grasp, holding your fingers carefully apart.
He immediately caught your wrist. “Where are you going?” “To get the straighteners.” “You’ll ruin your nails.”
“I’m walking, not digging a tunnel.” “You’re very clumsy.” “You painted them five minutes ago. They’re dry.” Seungmin tightened his grip.
“Wait.” “What?” He reached for the bottle of top coat on the table. “You need this.”
“You didn’t mention top coat before.” “I forgot.” “You just don’t want me to leave.” “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re holding my wrist.” “To protect my work.” “Say you’ll miss me.” “You’ll be gone for thirty seconds.”
“Then it shouldn’t be difficult.” Seungmin narrowed his eyes. Your sister watched the exchange. You waited.
He looked away first. “I’ll miss you,” he muttered. You grinned. “What was that?”
“You heard me.” “I don’t think I did.” “I’m not repeating it.” “Then I suppose I’ll have to stay.”
Seungmin looked back at you suspiciously. You lowered yourself onto the floor in front of him. His expression brightened. Then you reached for the top coat.
He held it out of reach. “You said you were staying.” “To do my own nails.” “No.”
“Give it to me.” “You’ll ruin them.” “They’re already ruined.” Seungmin gasped.
You grabbed for the bottle. He leaned away. You lunged across him, careful to keep your painted hand lifted. Seungmin caught you around the waist with his free arm.
“Behave.” “Give it.” “No.” “Seungmin.”
You tried to reach behind him. He shifted again, pulling you further into his lap. Your sister cleared her throat. You both looked towards her.
She was still sitting on the sofa. Watching. You had briefly forgotten she was there. “Sorry,” you said, although you weren’t particularly sorry.
Seungmin rested his chin on your shoulder. He still had one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Your sister’s gaze dropped to it. “Could you get the straighteners?” she asked.
“You know where they are,” you repeated. “I already told you I don’t.” Seungmin lifted his head. “I can get them.”
Your sister’s face brightened. You turned towards him. He was already beginning to stand, carefully guiding you off his lap. Your sister rose too.
Seungmin paused. He looked at her. Then at you. You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.
There was no reason for both of them to go. Your sister apparently believed your bedroom contained an unusually complicated straightener-storage system that required Seungmin’s personal guidance. “I know where they are,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”
“You can stay here.” Her smile faltered. “I don’t mind.” “I do.”
The answer was so immediate that you made a small choking sound. Your sister’s patience finally snapped. “Can someone please get them?” You and Seungmin both looked at her.
She smiled tightly. “The straighteners.” “Right,” you said. Seungmin pointed at you.
“Don’t touch anything.” “It’s my flat.” “My nail polish.” He disappeared down the hallway.
Your sister waited until he was out of earshot. Then she looked at you. “You don’t have to perform every time I’m here.” You stared at her.
“Perform?” “The constant touching. The little jokes.” “You think that’s for you?” “I think you’re trying very hard to prove something.”
You looked towards the hallway. Seungmin was rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, apparently having forgotten that you kept the straighteners inside your wardrobe. You turned back to her. “I’m sitting in my own living room wearing his shirt while he paints my nails.”
“Exactly.” “What am I proving?” “That you’re comfortable with him.” “I am comfortable with him.”
“You don’t need to make it so obvious.” A laugh escaped you. Your sister’s expression darkened. “What?”
“I genuinely don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.” “You’re acting territorial.” “I haven’t stopped you speaking to him.” “You don’t have to. You just keep interrupting.”
“This is my flat.” “So?” “He’s my boyfriend.” “I know that.”
“Do you?” Her eyes narrowed. You smiled. Still amused.
Mostly. But something sharper had begun pressing beneath your ribs. Your sister had always competed with you. Clothes. Friends. Attention. Compliments.
Anything you possessed became evidence that she deserved something better. You had simply never expected her to become this obvious. “You’re imagining things,” she said. “Am I?”
“Yes.” “Then why did you come dressed like that to borrow straighteners?” Her face changed. Only for an instant.
Then she scoffed. “I told you I’m going out.” “Where?” “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” “You clearly do.” “You’ve travelled forty minutes to borrow something you could buy for twenty pounds.” “I was nearby.”
“No, you weren’t.” She folded her arms. “Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind me being here.” There it was.
You looked at her. She looked pleased with herself. “Why would he mind?” “He’s been friendly.”
“He’s usually friendly.” “Not with everyone.” You nearly smiled. Your sister had known Seungmin for one afternoon.
Apparently she had already developed an extensive understanding of his social habits. “He complimented me last time,” she continued. “When?” “He said my dress was nice.”
“Mum told him to.” “That doesn’t mean he didn’t think it.” “No, I’m sure he has very strong feelings about the dress.” “You don’t have to be jealous.”
You stared at her. Then you laughed. You couldn’t help it. The idea was so completely detached from reality that amusement overwhelmed everything else.
Your sister’s face hardened. “I’m serious.” “So am I.” “Then why are you laughing?”
“Because you think Seungmin complimenting your dress means I should be worried.” “I didn’t say you should be worried.” “You said I was jealous.” “You’re acting like it.”
“Trust me.” You leaned back against the sofa. “I’m not.” Your sister opened her mouth. Seungmin returned before she could answer. He was holding the straighteners in one hand
He handed the straighteners to your sister. She accepted them. “Thank you.” “No problem.”
Her fingers lingered against his for a moment. Seungmin looked down at their hands. Then politely extracted his own. “I should probably go,” your sister said.
You looked at the clock. She had been there for less than twenty minutes. “Your plans?” you asked. “Yes.”
She picked up her coat. Seungmin returned to the floor beside you, already reaching for your hand. Your sister watched him pull you down beside him. Your sister opened the front door.
“I’ll text you,” she said to you. “Okay.” She looked towards Seungmin. “It was nice seeing you.”
“You too.” “You look good, by the way.” Seungmin glanced down at his sweatshirt. “Thanks.”
“The headband especially.” His hand rose to the blue bow. “Right.” She laughed softly.
Then she left. You waited until the door closed. Silence settled over the flat. Seungmin stared at it.
You stared at him. He turned slowly. “What?” You broke first.
Laughter burst out of you so suddenly that you nearly knocked over the nail polish. Seungmin caught the bottle. “Careful!” “The headband especially,” you repeated.
“Stop.” “You look good, by the way.” “I said stop.” You twisted in his arms until you were facing him.
Seungmin was kneeling over you, one hand planted beside your shoulder and the other wrapped securely around your waist. You looked up at him. “I like your headband.” “Thank you. I already have a beautiful girlfriend.”
You nodded. “Very natural.” “You’re ridiculous.” “And you’re obsessed with me.”
“There it is.” “There what is?” “You’ve been waiting to say that all afternoon.” “I haven’t.”
“You have.” “No.” “Yes.” You tried to push him away with your forearm.
Seungmin remained exactly where he was. “Admit it,” he said. “Admit what?” “That you’re jealous.”
“I’m not.” “Just a little?” “No.” “Not even when she touched my hand?”
“I thought about breaking her fingers.” Seungmin’s eyes widened. You hooked one leg around his hips and attempted to roll him onto his back. He anticipated it, shifting his weight before you could gain any leverage.
“You’re cheating,” you complained. “How?” “You’re stronger.” “That isn’t cheating.”
“It is when I’m losing.” He laughed. You used the distraction to push at his shoulder again. Seungmin caught both your wrists.
Your breath hitched, more from surprise than anything else. He pinned them lightly above your head, careful not to let your nails touch the carpet. His hair had begun slipping free from the headband. The clay mask had cracked faintly near the corners of his smile.
He looked completely ridiculous. And unfairly lovely. “Still think I enjoyed it?” he asked. You pretended to consider your answer.
His eyes narrowed. “Choose carefully.” You bit back a smile. “She is very feminine.”
Seungmin lowered his face closer to yours. “Wrong direction.” “And confident.” His grip tightened slightly around your wrists.
You laughed. “And sophisticated.” “Do you want to keep your newly painted nails?” “That sounds like a threat.”
“It is.” “You worked so hard on them.” “I can start again.” “You wouldn’t.”
“I have nowhere to be.” You squirmed beneath him. He shifted, trapping you more securely without putting his weight on you. “You’re impossible,” you said.
“You started this.” “She’s your type.” Seungmin stared at you. Then he released one of your wrists.
You immediately tried to escape. His free hand found your side. You squealed. “No!”
“Take it back.” “You can’t keep doing this!” “I can until you learn.” His fingers dug gently into your waist.
You dissolved into laughter, twisting helplessly beneath him. “The mask!” you gasped. “You’ll crack the mask!” “I don’t care.” “You were worried about it two minutes ago!”
“You’ve pushed me too far.” You kicked at the rug. Seungmin caught your leg beneath his knee. “You’re evil!”
“And?” “Controlling!” “And?” “Obsessed with me!”
His fingers stopped. “There we go.” You glared up at him, breathless. “That isn’t fair.”
“It’s completely fair.” “I was supposed to say you don’t want her.” “I know I don’t want her.” “You’re supposed to reassure me.”
“Are you worried?” “No.” “Then why do you need reassurance?” “Because I enjoy compliments.”
Seungmin smiled. The teasing faded gently from his expression. He released your other wrist and settled his hand beside your head instead. “You’re very pretty.”
“That was basic.” “You’re especially pretty when you’re wearing my clothes.” “Better.” “You’re funny.”
“I know.” “And irritating.” “That wasn’t a compliment.” “It’s one of my favourite things about you.”
You looked up at him. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek. “You’re my favourite person to come home to,” he continued. “My favourite person to annoy. My favourite person to do absolutely nothing with.” Your smile softened.
Seungmin’s did too. “And,” he added, “I’m so obsessed with you that I let you put this stupid thing on my head.” You touched the bow. “You love the headband.”
“I tolerate it.” “You’re avoiding the important part.” “What important part?” “The part where you admit I’m obsessed with you.”
You laughed. “You just admitted it yourself.” “I want to hear you say it.” “You’re obsessed with me.”
“And?” You stared at him. He waited expectantly. “And you don’t want my sister.”
“Obviously.” “And?” A slow grin spread across his face. You realised what he wanted.
“No.” “Say it.” “I’m not saying it.” “You know you want to.”
“I don’t.” Seungmin’s fingers hovered threateningly near your waist. You recoiled. “Don’t.”
“Then say it.” “You’re abusing your power.” “I’m waiting.” You glared at him.
He looked delighted. “And I’m obsessed with you too,” you muttered. “What was that?” “You heard me.”
“The face mask is restricting my hearing.” “That isn’t how masks work.” “Speak clearly.” You tried not to smile.
“I’m obsessed with you too.” “There we go.” He bent and kissed you. It began soft.
A pleased little press of his lips against yours. Then you reached for the back of his neck and accidentally brushed one wet nail against his cheek. Seungmin pulled away. You froze.
A bright streak of polish now cut through the dried clay mask. For one second, neither of you moved. Then you burst out laughing. Seungmin stared at you.
“You ruined it.” “I’m sorry!” “You did that on purpose.” “I didn’t!”
“You attacked me.” “You were on top of me!” “Because you accused me of wanting your sister.” Seungmin touched his cheek.
His fingers came away with polish on them. His mouth dropped open. You laughed even harder. “You look beautiful.”
“You’re sleeping on the sofa.” “It’s my flat.” “Then I’m sleeping in your bed alone.” “You wouldn’t last ten minutes.”
“I’d sleep perfectly.” You grinned. Seungmin tried to maintain his glare. He failed.
A laugh escaped him. Then another. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against your shoulder, both of you shaking with laughter on the living-room floor. You wrapped your arms around him.
“Your mask really is ruined.” “I know.” “And the polish is definitely smudged.” “I know.”
౨ৎ
Your sister invited herself shopping with you three days later. Technically, she asked whether you had bought your mum’s birthday present yet. When you told her that you and Seungmin were going into town on Sunday to find something, she replied that she had been planning to go that day too. You had stared at the message for several seconds. Seungmin, lying beside you with his head on your stomach, had tilted his phone away from his face and asked, “Why are you making that expression?”
“My sister wants to come shopping with us.” He had gone silent. You lowered your phone to look at him. “That was a very long pause.” “I was trying to think of something polite.”
“And?” “I couldn’t.” You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We are shopping for her mum too.” “Unfortunately.”
“She’s my mum.” “That’s why I said unfortunately. I like your mum.” “You’re horrible.” Seungmin had turned his head and pressed a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “Tell her she can come.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” “I’m thrilled. Maybe she can tell me more about what kind of woman I usually prefer.” You had flicked his forehead. He had bitten your finger.
The matter was settled.
౨ৎ
Your sister arrived twenty minutes late. You and Seungmin had already been standing outside the shopping centre long enough for him to complain about the cold four times, steal one of your gloves and attempt to warm his other hand by shoving it beneath the back of your jumper. You had slapped him away. He had waited thirty seconds before trying again.
“Your hand is freezing,” you complained, twisting out of his reach. “That’s why I need your body heat.” “You have pockets.” “They’re not as warm as you.”
“They don’t want you touching them either.” Seungmin smiled and caught the belt loop of your jeans when you tried to step away. “Come back.” “No.” “You’re abandoning me.”
“I’m moving half a metre.” “That’s still too far.” You rolled your eyes, but you let him pull you backwards until your shoulder rested against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and tucked his chin over your shoulder, immediately pleased with himself. “You’re very clingy today,” you said.
“It’s cold.” “You were clingy yesterday too.” “I was tired.” “You fell asleep on top of me. I couldn’t breathe.”
“And yet you let me stay.” His laugh warmed the side of your neck. Your sister found you like that. She slowed as she approached, taking in Seungmin’s arms around your middle and the way your hands rested over his. Then she smiled.
“Sorry,” she said, although she did not sound particularly sorry. “The train was delayed.” “You said you were driving,” you replied. She paused. Seungmin’s face disappeared briefly against your shoulder. You felt the silent shake of his laughter.
“I changed my mind,” your sister said. “Clearly.” She looked at Seungmin. “Have you been waiting long?” “Long enough for her to attack me.”
“I moved your freezing hand away,” you said. Seungmin tightened his arms around your waist. “Exactly.” Your sister laughed, her gaze lingering on him a little too long. “You poor thing.” Your sister looked at you with a small, knowing smile. “You’ve always been like that.”
“Like what?” “Rough.” Seungmin’s eyebrows rose. You looked down at your outfit as though you might find evidence of roughness on your coat. “I pushed his hand away.”
“I’m only joking.” “Right.” “She’s very frightening,” Seungmin said solemnly. “I live in constant fear.” Then he kissed your cheek and released you, taking your hand instead. “Can we go inside before I lose feeling in my fingers?”
“You stole my glove.” “It wasn’t enough.” Your sister walked beside him as you entered the shopping centre. You ended up on his other side.
It was not immediately strange. The pavement narrowed near the doors, people moved around you, and your sister had always been skilled at placing herself exactly where she wanted to be without appearing deliberate. But once you were inside, she remained there. She asked Seungmin what he thought you should buy. She asked whether he enjoyed shopping. She asked which shops he liked, whether he cared about clothes and whether he usually chose his own outfits. He answered politely.
Mostly. When she asked whether he had a favourite designer, he said, “Whoever makes comfortable trousers.” When she asked what colours he liked on women, he said, “Normal ones.” Your sister frowned. “I was asking a normal question.”
“I know,” you said. “His answer was stupid.” Seungmin swung your joined hands between you. Your sister glanced down. “I think you’d suit darker colours,” she told him.
“I wear dark colours.” “I know. They make you look more mature.” You looked across him. “What does he look like now?” She ignored you. “You have a very classic face.”
Seungmin turned towards you. “Do I?” “No.” He looked offended. “You didn’t even think about it.” “I look at your face every day.”
“And you’ve never thought it was classic?” “I’ve thought it was annoying.” “That isn’t a facial structure.” “It should be.”
Your sister sighed softly. “You never take compliments seriously.” “She rarely gives them,” Seungmin said. “I complimented you this morning.” “You said my hair looked less strange than usual.”
“That was generous.” “You also said I looked tired.” “You did.” “You make me feel very cherished.”
You stopped in the middle of the walkway and placed both hands around his face. “You are beautiful.” Seungmin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re mocking me.” “Never.” “You’re smiling.”
“Because you’re beautiful.” He stared at you for another second before his mouth betrayed him. A reluctant smile appeared. “There,” you said, squeezing his cheeks. “Pretty.”
Seungmin caught both your wrists and pulled your hands away. “Don’t touch my face in public.” “You love it.” Your sister had gone quiet. You released Seungmin’s face and started walking again. He slipped his hand into yours as though the interruption had never happened.
The first shop was useless. The second was worse. Your mum had said she wanted something for the house, which sounded simple until you were faced with fifteen aisles of objects she might already own. Your sister suggested a decorative vase.
You reminded her that your mum had six. Seungmin picked up a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown. You told him to put it down. “She’d love him,” he said.
“She’d ask why we bought her rubbish.” “He’s cute.” “He’s ugly.” “He can hear you.”
Your sister smiled at Seungmin. “I think he’s cute.” You looked at her. She was not looking at the ceramic dog. Seungmin, apparently unaware or pretending to be, placed the ornament carefully in your hands. “Hold him.”
“No.” “He likes you.” “You like him.” “He reminds me of you.”
You stared at the dog. The dog stared back with badly painted eyes. “You’re sleeping alone tonight.” Seungmin smiled. “You say that every week.”
“One day I’ll mean it.” “No, you won’t.” Your sister picked up a sleek glass vase and held it towards Seungmin. “What about this?” He glanced at it. “It’s nice.”
“She already has something similar,” you said. Your sister’s smile tightened. “Not exactly like this.” “It’s almost identical.” “It’s more modern.”
“Mum doesn’t care about modern.” “She might.” Your sister looked at Seungmin. “What do you think?” He looked between you both.
Then at the vase. Then at the ceramic dog still in your hands. “I think we should buy the dog.” You laughed.
Your sister did not. “You’re both impossible,” she said, returning the vase to the shelf. “That keeps coming up,” Seungmin replied. You carried the dog for another two aisles before secretly placing it on a display of cushions.
Seungmin noticed immediately. “Where is he?” “Who?” “The dog.”
“I don’t know.” “You abandoned him.” “He wasn’t ours.” “He could have been.”
“Not everything you like has to come home with us.” “You came home with me.” Your sister laughed. You turned towards Seungmin slowly. “Was that meant to be sweet?”
“Yes.” “It sounded like you found me beside a road.” “I rescued you.” “From what?”
“Yourself.” You shoved him lightly towards a stack of towels. He caught your elbow and pulled you with him, making you stumble against his chest. His free arm wrapped around your waist before you could fall. You tried not to smile.
You failed. Your sister walked ahead.
౨ৎ
After nearly an hour, you found a set of handmade serving bowls that your mum would genuinely like. Your sister thought they were plain. Seungmin thought one of them looked like a hat. You thought both of them needed to stop talking.
You were waiting at the till when your sister announced that she wanted coffee. “There’s a place downstairs,” she said. “I’ll go.” “I’ll come,” you replied. “I need the toilet anyway.” Her expression flickered.
Only slightly. Then she smiled. “You can stay with the bags. Seungmin and I can get them.” Seungmin looked up from the receipt in his hand. You looked at her.
She looked at him. There was a small silence. Then Seungmin said, “She knows my order.” Your sister recovered quickly. “You can tell me.”
“I’ll forget something.” “It’s coffee.” “He’s very demanding,” you said. Seungmin nodded.
Your sister laughed, although her eyes stayed on him. “I think I can manage.” You could have refused. Part of you wanted to, not because you thought anything would happen, but because your sister’s intentions had become so transparent that allowing her to proceed felt almost embarrassing. Then curiosity won.
You handed the shopping bag to Seungmin. “Fine. Get me something sweet.” “What?” “Surprise me.” “That always ends badly.”
“Only because you make poor choices.” Seungmin stared at you. You smiled. He sighed. “Fine.”
Your sister looked pleased. Far too pleased. You kissed Seungmin’s cheek before stepping away. “Don’t let her buy me anything with coconut.”
౨ৎ
Seungmin watched you disappear into the crowd. He knew exactly what you were doing. You had kissed him in front of your sister on purpose. Not because you were worried.
Because you were a menace. A message appeared on his phone before he and your sister had reached the escalator. Don’t fall in love while I’m gone x He smiled despite himself.
Your sister noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Was that her?”
“Yes.” “What did she say?” Seungmin put his phone away. “Nothing important.” Your sister stepped onto the escalator beside him.
For several seconds, she was silent. Then she said, “She checks on you a lot.” Seungmin looked at her. “Does she?” “She’s always texting you.”
“We text each other.” “I know. I just mean she likes knowing where you are.” He considered the comment. “She sent me a joke.”
“What joke?” “One you wouldn’t find funny.” Your sister’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know that.” “I know her sense of humour.”
“And mine?” “Not really.” The escalator carried them down another floor. Your sister rested one hand on the rail. “You and her are very different.”
Seungmin looked ahead. “You’ve mentioned that.” “I don’t mean it as an insult.” “You keep saying that too.” She laughed softly. “You remember.”
“I have a good memory.” “You do seem observant.” “Sometimes.” “That’s why I’m surprised.”
He turned his head. “By what?” She looked briefly uncertain, as if she had expected him to understand without making her say it aloud. “Nothing.”
Seungmin faced forwards again. The coffee shop was busy. A line curled away from the counter, giving your sister more time than she probably needed. She moved closer to him as they joined it. “I’ve always wondered how she ended up with someone like you.”
Seungmin’s expression did not change. “Someone like me?” “Successful. Disciplined. Mature.” “You think she isn’t those things?”
“I didn’t say that.” “You implied it.” Your sister sighed. “You’re very defensive of her.” “She’s my girlfriend.”
“I know.” “Then why are you surprised?” “I’m not surprised. I just think you misunderstand me.” Seungmin shoved one hand into his coat pocket. “Then explain.”
Your sister glanced towards the counter. The line had barely moved. “She’s always been the sweet one,” she said. “The one people feel protective over. I’ve always been more independent.” “Okay.” “She needs more reassurance.”
“Does she?” “You’ve seen how she is.” “I have.” “And that doesn’t get tiring?”
Seungmin looked at her properly. His tone stayed light, but his eyes sharpened. “No.” Your sister held his gaze. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” “I’m not.”
“She can be a lot.” “So can I.” “You’re different.” “You don’t know me.”
The words landed more firmly than anything he had said before. Your sister blinked. Seungmin looked back towards the counter. The line moved forward.
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she tried again. “She doesn’t tell people this, but she used to get overlooked a lot when we were younger.” Seungmin’s jaw tightened.
“Overlooked by who?” “People.” Your sister exhaled, clearly frustrated by his refusal to fill in the gaps for her. “Boys usually noticed me first.”
Seungmin waited. She smiled faintly. “She never minded. At least, she pretended not to.” He looked at her. “And?”
“And nothing. I’m only saying it’s probably nice for her to be the one someone chose for once.” Seungmin stared at her for a long moment. Your sister interpreted the silence as an opening. “You’re kind,” she continued. “You probably don’t even realise how much that means to her.”
“I noticed her.” The sentence was quiet. Immediate. Your sister’s smile faltered.
“I didn’t say you didn’t.” “You said people didn’t.” “I said they usually noticed me first.” “I didn’t.”
Something sharp passed across her face. Then she laughed. “You hadn’t met me.” Seungmin looked at her.
The confidence in her smile returned. It was not difficult to understand what she meant. If he had seen her first, things might have been different. If he knew her better, he might recognise what he had missed.
If you had not reached him before she did, perhaps he would have made the correct choice. Seungmin almost laughed. Instead, he said, “I’ve met you now.” Your sister’s smile remained fixed.
The line moved again. She stepped closer. “I think we have more in common than you realise.” “Do we?”
“We’re both ambitious.” “So is she.” “We care about how we present ourselves.” “She does too.”
“She doesn’t care what anyone thinks.” “That’s one of the things I like about her.” Your sister’s eyes narrowed. “You turn everything into a compliment about her.” “Yes.”
The answer was so simple that it left nowhere for the conversation to go. Your sister looked away. Seungmin’s phone buzzed again. He checked it.
Is she seducing you yet? A second message appeared. Blink twice if you need rescue Then:
Actually don’t. I can’t see you He laughed under his breath. Your sister glanced towards the phone. “She’s checking again?”
“She’s entertaining herself.” “She doesn’t trust me.” Seungmin looked up. “Should she?” Your sister went still.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. For the first time, she seemed uncertain whether he was joking. Then he smiled. Not warmly.
Not cruelly either. Just enough to make the question impossible to challenge. Your sister looked towards the menu. “What did she want?”
“Something sweet.” “That isn’t very specific.” “She likes trying new things.” “I know.”
“Do you?” Your sister frowned. “She’s my sister.” Seungmin slipped his phone into his pocket. “Then choose.” She looked at the display board.
After a moment, she suggested a coconut latte. Seungmin stared at her. “What?” “She hates coconut.”
Your sister hesitated. “Does she?” “She told you five minutes ago.” “I forgot.” “I didn’t.”
He ordered your favourite instead.
౨ৎ
You returned to find them sitting at a small table near the window. Your sister was speaking. Seungmin was looking at his phone. That alone told you almost everything you needed to know.
He was never rude enough to ignore someone without a reason. When he spotted you, his entire expression changed. His shoulders relaxed. His mouth curved into a smile. He put his phone down and lifted one hand towards you. “There you are.”
You slid into the seat beside him. Seungmin immediately hooked his fingers through the belt loop at the back of your jeans and tugged you closer. “I was gone for fifteen minutes.” “It was difficult.”
“You seemed fine.” Your sister looked between you. You picked up the drink in front of your seat and inspected it. “What did you get me?” “Try it.”
“What is it?” “I’m not telling you.” “Why?” “You said to surprise you.”
“I don’t trust you.” Seungmin pushed the cup closer. “Drink.” You took a cautious sip. It was sweet, creamy and familiar.
Your favourite. You looked at him. He smiled smugly. “You didn’t choose something new.”
“I chose something you’d like.” “That isn’t a surprise.” “You were surprised.” “I was surprised you made a good decision.”
Seungmin leaned towards you. “Say thank you.” “No.” “Say it.” “You’re very demanding.”
“I carried the bowls.” “They’re in one bag.” “A heavy bag.” “They’re ceramic, not concrete.”
Your sister interrupted. “He remembered your order.” You looked at her. There was something brittle in her voice. Seungmin rested his chin briefly on your shoulder and stole a sip of your drink.
You pushed his face away. “Of course he did,” you said. “He orders it more than I do.” “For you,” he corrected. “You steal half.”
“It tastes better when it’s yours.” “That’s because you’re a thief.” He smiled against your cheek. Your sister looked away.
You could practically feel the conversation you had interrupted sitting between them. You waited until Seungmin sat back. Then you asked, “Did you have a nice chat?” Your sister reached for her coffee.
Seungmin looked at you. His eyes were bright with the effort of not laughing. “Very informative.” “Oh?”
“I learned that I’m successful, disciplined and mature.” You nodded solemnly. “One out of three isn’t bad.” Seungmin kicked your foot beneath the table. You kicked him back.
Your sister sighed. “I was complimenting him.” “I know.” “She thinks I’m mature,” Seungmin said. “She doesn’t live with you.”
“I don’t live with you.” Under the table, Seungmin’s knee pressed against yours. You tapped it once with your own. He tapped back.
Your sister watched the movement. “I was only saying that you’re lucky,” she said. You looked at her. “Again?” “You are.”
“I know.” “She thinks you’re lucky someone finally noticed you,” Seungmin added. The words were delivered with deceptive casualness. Your sister’s head snapped towards him.
Your hand stilled around the cup. Seungmin lifted his drink. You looked at your sister. She looked suddenly furious.
“I didn’t say it like that.” “How did you say it?” “I said people usually noticed me first when we were younger.” You raised your eyebrows.
Your sister leaned back. “It was relevant to the conversation.” “What conversation?” “We were talking about relationships.” “You were talking about mine?”
“She asked whether dating you was tiring,” Seungmin said. You stared at him. He took a calm sip. Your sister’s face reddened. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“It was very close.” “You’re twisting my words.” “I remember them quite clearly.” You looked between them.
The ridiculousness of it arrived before the hurt could. Your sister had finally managed to get Seungmin alone, and she had apparently used the opportunity to explain why being with you must be exhausting. A laugh slipped out. Your sister’s mouth tightened. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you had fifteen minutes.” “What?” “You finally got him alone and that was your strategy?” Seungmin choked on his drink.
Your sister stared at you. You turned towards him. “Are you all right?” He held up one hand and coughed into the other. “You’re horrible,” he managed.
“You were thinking it too.” “I was trying to be polite.” Your sister placed her cup on the table more firmly than necessary. “Nothing happened.” You looked at her. “I know.”
“Then stop acting like you caught me doing something.” “I didn’t catch you. He told me.” Your sister stood. The legs of her chair scraped against the floor.
“I’m going to look at another shop.” You glanced at the untouched coffee. “We just sat down.” “I remembered something I need.” She grabbed her handbag.
Seungmin watched her. Your sister looked at him, waiting for something. An offer to come with her, perhaps. An apology.
A private look that confirmed all the things she had decided existed between them. Seungmin lifted his hand. For one hopeful second, she smiled. Then he pointed towards her cup. “Are you taking that?”
Her smile disappeared. “No.” “Can I have it?” You elbowed him.
“What?” he asked. “She isn’t drinking it.” Your sister walked away without answering. You watched her disappear into the crowd. Then you turned slowly towards Seungmin.
He was already reaching for her abandoned coffee. You slapped his hand. “No.” “She said she didn’t want it.”
“You don’t know what’s in it.” “Coffee.” “She might have poisoned it.” “Why would she poison her own drink?”
“She sensed rejection.” Seungmin laughed. You folded your arms. “What did she actually say?” He gave up on the coffee and leaned back in his chair.
“Exactly what I told you.” “She asked whether I was tiring?” “She implied that you need constant reassurance, said you’re a lot and suggested I probably chose you because I’m kind.” Your amusement faded a little.
Seungmin noticed immediately. His foot slid beside yours under the table. “She also told me men usually noticed her first,” he added. You looked at the crowd beyond the window. “She loves saying that.”
“I asked which men.” That made you smile. Seungmin’s knee pressed more firmly against yours. “She couldn’t name them.”
“You interrogated her?” “I asked good questions.” “You never ask good questions.” “That’s unfair.”
You looked back at him. He was watching you closely. Not pushing. Just waiting.
“What else?” you asked. Seungmin hesitated. “She implied I might have chosen differently if I’d met her first.” A strange little ache settled beneath your ribs. Not because you believed it.
The idea of Seungmin choosing your sister felt almost comical. But because she believed your entire relationship could be reduced to timing. That you had simply arrived first and seized something that should have belonged to her. You looked down at your cup. “And what did you say?”
“That I’ve met her now.” Your mouth twitched. “That’s all?” “I thought it was enough.”
“It is.” “She didn’t like it.” “I’m devastated for her.” “I also told her I noticed you.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around the cup. Seungmin’s expression softened. “What?” “Nothing.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I noticed you.” You fought a smile. You covered his mouth with your hand. Seungmin kissed your palm.
You pulled it away immediately. “That’s disgusting.” “You liked that too.” “You’re so pleased with yourself.”
“I handled a difficult social situation and bought you the correct drink.” “You want a medal?” “A kiss would be appropriate.” “You’re asking for payment?”
“I did hard labour.” “You stood in a coffee queue.” “With your sister.” You considered that.
Seungmin lifted his eyebrows. You leaned over and kissed his cheek. He turned his head at the last second, catching the corner of your mouth instead. You pulled back.
“That was cheating.” “You’re slow.” “You tricked me.” “You still kissed me.”
“Barely.” “You can try again.” “I’m not rewarding bad behaviour.” Seungmin rested one elbow on the table. “Then I’ll have to live with the memory.”
“You’re dramatic.” “I suffered for fifteen minutes.” “You were texting me.” “That was my lifeline.”
You laughed and nudged his foot beneath the table. Seungmin caught your ankle between his. “You know she’s going to tell herself you only rejected her because you knew I was coming back.” Seungmin’s expression became thoughtful. “Do you want me to say it more directly?”
You looked towards the direction your sister had disappeared. Part of you wanted him to. Part of you knew she would turn even that into evidence of something else. “She hasn’t actually admitted she wants you,” you said.
“She invited herself on our date.” “We’re buying Mum bowls.” “A highly romantic date.” Seungmin reached for your hand across the table.
His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles. “If she says something properly,” he said, “I’ll answer properly.” “You have answered.” “I mean without being polite.”
“That sounds frightening.” Seungmin squeezed your hand. “Tell her that when she tries again.” You looked at him. “When?”
He smiled. “You think she’s stopping?” You glanced once more towards the crowd. “No.”
“Neither do I.” There was a pause. Then Seungmin brightened. “Can we go back for the dog?” “No.”
“He could be part of your mum’s present.” “She would hate him.” “She’d learn to love him.” “You only knew him for ten minutes.”
“That was enough.” Seungmin smiled and lifted your hand to his mouth. This time, he kissed your knuckles slowly. You let him.
Your sister returned ten minutes later carrying nothing. Neither of you mentioned it. Seungmin did, however, remain close to you for the rest of the afternoon. His hand at your waist when people passed too close. His fingers laced through yours on the escalator. His chin briefly resting on your shoulder while you examined candles. His mouth near your ear when he whispered that one of them smelled like “an expensive wardrobe”.
Your sister tried to walk beside him. Seungmin kept drifting back towards you. She asked his opinion. He asked yours.
She suggested shops. He followed wherever you went. By the time you left the shopping centre, your sister had stopped speaking unless someone addressed her directly. The three of you stood near the station while she checked the time.
“My train’s in five minutes,” she said. Your sister adjusted her handbag and looked at Seungmin. “It was nice spending time with you.” “You too.” “We should do it again.”
You looked at him. He looked at you. Your sister noticed. “Without making it into a whole family thing,” she added.
You raised your eyebrows. Seungmin slipped his arm around your shoulders. “I think she comes with me.” Your sister laughed. “You’re allowed separate friends.” “I have friends.”
“She means her,” you said. “I know.” Your sister’s cheeks coloured. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” Seungmin asked. She looked at him. He waited. His expression was pleasant.
Curious. Entirely unwilling to rescue her. Your sister’s train arrived with a rush of noise behind her. She glanced towards the platform.
“I have to go.” “You should hurry,” you said. She hugged you briefly. When she turned towards Seungmin, he lifted the shopping bag between them.
Your sister stopped. He smiled politely. “Bye.” For a moment, she looked as though she might push around the bag and hug him anyway.
Then she stepped back. “Bye.” You watched her hurry towards the train. As soon as she was out of earshot, Seungmin lowered the bag.
“You used Mum’s bowls as a shield,” you said. “I panicked.” “You’re very brave.” “She hugged me last time.”
“Terrifying.” “I didn’t know what else to do.” “You could have hugged her.” Seungmin looked horrified. “Why would I do that?”
“She’s confident and sophisticated.” “Stop.” “More your type.” He pointed at you. “We discussed this.”
“She only needs an opportunity.” “You’re becoming annoying.” “Becoming?” “More annoying.”
You smiled. Seungmin stared at you for a second. Then he hooked one arm around your waist and lifted you just enough that your shoes left the ground. You yelped.
“Put me down!” “Take it back.” “We’re in public!” “I don’t care.”
You grabbed his shoulders, laughing as he carried you several steps away from the platform. Seungmin lowered you carefully to the ground. His smile softened. Seungmin took your hand again, swinging it once between you before pulling you towards the station exit.
“Come on,” he said. “We have to go back.” “For what?” “The dog.” “We are not buying the dog.”
“He’s waiting for us.” “He’s ceramic.” “He’ll think we abandoned him.” “You said I was the abandoned animal.”
“I can rescue both of you.” “You already complain that I take up too much space.” “He’s small.” “I hate you.”
Seungmin kissed the side of your head. He smiled and kept walking. You followed, because the station exit was in the same direction as the shop. Not because you had agreed to buy the dog.
Definitely not. When your mum opened her birthday present a week later, she found a beautiful set of handmade serving bowls. And, tucked between them, a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown. She stared at it.
You stared at Seungmin. Seungmin looked unbearably pleased.
౨ৎ
By the time you finished getting ready, Seungmin had changed his shirt twice, complained about both options and somehow blamed you for the fact that neither looked right. “You said the black one was nice,” he reminded you from the bedroom doorway. “It was nice.” “And then you told me to wear the blue one.”
“Because the blue one is nicer.” “So the black one was ugly.” “That isn’t what I said.” “It’s what you implied.”
You turned away from the mirror and looked at him. He stood with both shirts hanging from one hand, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and an expression of genuine betrayal on his face. “You’re having a crisis over two nearly identical shirts.” “They aren’t nearly identical.” “One is black and one is very dark blue.”
“Exactly.” You stared at him. Seungmin stared back. Then his gaze drifted slowly down your body.
The offence disappeared from his expression. You had chosen an outfit that made you feel good. You suspected you would regret that decision later, but Seungmin’s reaction made it worth it. He looked at you for long enough that you lifted an eyebrow. “What?” “Nothing.”
“You’re staring.” “I’m looking.” “At what?” “My girlfriend.”
You tried not to smile. “Have you not seen me before?” “Not in that.” “You watched me put it on.” “I was distracted.”
“By what?” “The shirt crisis.” You laughed and turned back towards the mirror. Seungmin abandoned both shirts on the bed and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You look pretty,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Only pretty?” His eyes narrowed at your reflection. “Don’t become demanding.” “You stared at me for thirty seconds. I expected something better.” “You look very pretty.”
“That’s the same thing with an extra word.” “You look so pretty that I’m reconsidering letting you leave the flat.” You smiled. “Better.” “I knew you were fishing.”
“I enjoy compliments.” “I know.” Seungmin kissed the side of your neck, then another spot slightly lower. You tilted your head instinctively before remembering you had spent far too long getting ready. “Don’t ruin my makeup.”
“I’m nowhere near your makeup.” “You’ll work your way up.” “That sounds like encouragement.” You caught his wrists and pulled his arms away. Seungmin resisted just enough to make it difficult, then released you with an exaggerated sigh.
“You don’t love me anymore.” “I’m trying to get us to the party.” “Chan said eight.” “It’s quarter past.”
“Exactly. We’re early.” You looked at him through the mirror. “For what?” “A party.” “That started fifteen minutes ago.”
“Social events have a grace period.” “You invented that because you’re never ready on time.” “I was ready.” “You aren’t wearing a shirt.”
Seungmin looked down at his bare chest, then at the two shirts abandoned on the bed. Your phone buzzed on the dressing table. You picked it up. Your sister had messaged.
Are you there yet? A second message followed before you could reply. Is Seungmin going straight from yours? You turned the screen towards him.
Seungmin read both messages. His face remained blank for one beat, then he placed his chin back on your shoulder. “She misses me.” “She saw you last week.” “A long separation.”
“She didn’t ask whether I was going straight from mine.” “She knows you’ll be there.” “She also knows you’ll be there.” “That must be why she asked to come.”
You laughed and nudged him backwards with your hip. “Put the blue shirt on.” “The black one makes my shoulders look better.” “Then wear the black one.” “You said the blue was nicer.”
“Seungmin.” He smiled and kissed your cheek before finally retrieving the blue shirt. You replied to your sister while he dressed. We’re leaving soon. Bring the drinks you promised Chan.
Her response came almost immediately. What’s Seungmin wearing? You looked up. He was buttoning the blue shirt.
You considered sending her a photograph of the black one lying empty on the bed. Instead, you typed: Clothes x Seungmin glanced over. “What did you say?”
“Nothing important.” “You’re smiling.” “I’m entertaining myself.” “Is she seducing me remotely now?”
“Apparently she needs to prepare.” “For what?” “To be more your type.” Seungmin finished the final button and walked towards you. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“It’s funny.” “Until she touches my arm fifteen times.” “Maybe she thinks that’s where your romantic feelings are stored.” “That would explain why I keep trying to get away.”
You laughed, and Seungmin’s smile softened. He reached out to fix the chain of your necklace where it had twisted, his fingers careful against the back of your neck. “Tell me if it stops being funny,” he said. The words were quiet enough to change the air between you. You turned.
Seungmin let his hands settle at your waist. “I will.” “Promise?” “You already made me promise.”
“I’m making you do it again.” “Very controlling.” “Very caring.” “Debatable.”
He squeezed your waist. “Promise.” You rested both hands against his chest. “I promise.” Satisfied, Seungmin kissed your forehead. Then he leant back and examined his shirt in the mirror. “Do my shoulders look strange?”
You pushed him towards the door.
౨ৎ
The party remained civilised for approximately forty minutes. Then Changbin brought out the shot glasses. Chan saw them from across the room and immediately shook his head. “Take it easy” “You bought the alcohol,” Changbin reminded him.
Jisung appeared beside the kitchen counter as though summoned by the word drinking. “Shots are normal.” “You said that last time and threw up in my shoes.” “That was unrelated.” “It was directly related.”
Felix slid into the space beside Jisung and began examining the bottles. You followed closely behind him, your own drink already mostly gone. Seungmin caught your wrist before you could reach for anything. “You’re not doing shots.” You looked at his hand around your wrist, then at him. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve already had three drinks.” “So have you.” “I can still walk in a straight line.” “I can walk in a straight line.”
Seungmin released you and pointed towards the hallway. You stared at him. He lifted his eyebrows. “You want me to demonstrate?”
“Yes.” You placed your empty glass on the counter and turned towards the hallway with as much dignity as you could manage. Felix and Jisung watched in complete silence. You took three perfectly respectable steps.
Then your hip struck the edge of the sofa. You stopped. Seungmin smiled. “The sofa moved.”
“It’s been there all night.” “It knew I was trying to prove something.” Jisung nodded seriously. “Furniture can sense weakness.” Minho, sitting nearby with his ankle resting over one knee, looked at him. “That explains why you keep walking into doors.”
Jisung placed a hand over his chest. “Why are you attacking me?” “Because you make it easy.” Jisung abandoned the counter and dropped onto the sofa beside him. Within seconds, his legs were stretched across Minho’s lap. Minho glanced down but made no effort to move them.
You pointed towards them. “He can’t walk straight either.” “He’s sitting,” Seungmin said. “He was walking badly earlier.” Changbin began pouring.
Hyunjin took the bottle from Changbin before he could overfill the glasses. “At least make them even. You’re pouring like you’ve never seen liquid before.” “I’m being generous.” “You’re trying to kill Jisung.” Jisung lifted his head from Minho’s shoulder. “Yes please.”
Minho pressed one hand against his forehead and pushed him back down. “You accept nothing.” You managed to claim a glass before Seungmin could stop you. Felix took one. Jisung reached for another, but Minho lifted it out of reach.
Jisung stared at him. “Give it.” “No.” “You aren’t my father.” “Thank fuck for that.”
“You can’t control me.” Minho looked at the legs still resting across his lap. “Stand up, then.” Jisung considered it. “No.”
“Thought so.” Felix passed Jisung his own glass beneath the edge of the table. Minho saw. He allowed it.
You caught his eye. Minho shrugged and took another drink. “Traitor,” Seungmin told him. “I’m off duty.”
“You were never on duty,” Chan said. “Exactly.” Changbin raised his glass. “To Chan finally letting us have fun.” “This is my party.”
“Then act like it.” Chan swore at him, but lifted his drink anyway. Everyone crowded closer. Your friend remained beside your sister near the end of the counter, amused but still slightly removed from the intimacy of the group. You caught her eye and held up your glass.
She lifted hers back. Your sister barely noticed. She was watching Seungmin. He stood behind you with one hand resting against your hip, his thumb moving absently beneath the hem of your top.
You leaned back into him. “To being hot,” Hyunjin said. Jeongin nodded. “Finally, something relevant.” Chan looked around the group. “Can we toast to something normal?”
“No,” everyone replied. The shot burned on the way down. Felix coughed. You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed the first solid thing you found.
It was Changbin’s arm. “Fuck.” Changbin laughed. “You agreed to it.” “That tasted like paint stripper.”
“You’ve never tasted paint stripper.” “Maybe I have.” Seungmin pulled you backwards against his chest. “And this is why you weren’t doing shots.” You turned in his arms. “I did one.”
“You nearly died.” “I recovered.” “You’re still holding Changbin.You could have held me.” You looked down to find your hand still wrapped around Changbin’s bicep and slowly released him. “Come back when you’ve got biceps, bud.”
Seungmin stared at you for a beat before catching you around the waist and pulling you firmly against his chest. “You seemed perfectly happy with mine earlier.” You placed a hand against his arm as though inspecting it. “They’re all right.” His grip tightened. “All right?” You smiled. “Maybe a little better than that.”
౨ৎ
Someone suggested a drinking game. Nobody later remembered who. You all ended up sitting in a loose circle around the living room with bottles, half-empty glasses and bowls of food scattered between you. Your friend sat beside your sister on the sofa. You were on the floor between Felix and Seungmin, with your back against Seungmin’s legs. His hand rested loosely at the base of your throat, occasionally brushing your hair aside.
Jisung had begun the game beside Minho. By the third round, he was mostly sitting on him. “Never have I ever,” Jeongin began, smiling in a way that immediately made Chan suspicious, “lied to get out of plans with someone in this room.” Nearly everyone drank.
Chan stared at the group. “Are you serious?” “You make too many plans,” Seungmin said. “I ask whether you want dinner.” “That’s still a plan.”
You lifted your glass. Seungmin looked down at you. “When did you lie to me?” You took a long sip. His fingers tightened gently at the back of your neck.
“When?” You smiled into your drink. “Next question.” “No. We’re staying here.” Felix laughed. “She said she was ill once because she wanted to watch a film with us.”
Seungmin stared at you. “You exposed me,” you told Felix. “I forgot it was a secret.” “You chose them over me?” Seungmin asked.
“You were working.” “You still lied.” “You would’ve sulked.” “I am sulking now.”
You twisted around to look at him. “Do you need a kiss?” Seungmin considered the offer. “Yes.” You kissed him quickly.
He kept one hand against your jaw and prevented you from moving away. “That was inadequate.” Everyone groaned. You laughed against his mouth before kissing him again, slower this time.
When you finally pulled away, Changbin threw a crisp at Seungmin’s head. “Some of us are single.” “You don’t have to watch,” Seungmin said. “You’re in the middle of the room.”
“Look somewhere else.” Hyunjin placed one hand against Changbin’s cheek and turned his face away. “There. Problem solved.” Changbin bit his palm. Hyunjin screamed.
The game continued. “Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this room,” Felix said. Silence fell. Then Jeongin drank.
Hyunjin drank. Changbin drank. Jisung lifted his glass, looked around and drank twice. Minho looked at him. “Twice?”
Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s shoulder. “I contain multitudes.” Minho took Jisung’s glass and drank from it. The room erupted. Jisung stared at him, eyes widening. “Was that your answer?”
“It was your drink.” “You have your own.” “I wanted yours.” “That is not an answer.”
Minho smiled into the rim of the glass. You turned towards Felix. He was already looking at you. Both of you burst out laughing.
“Don’t,” Minho warned. You covered your mouth with both hands. Seungmin’s chest shook behind you. Your sister remained completely still.
You could feel her watching. Felix nudged your knee. “You didn’t drink.” “I’m dating someone in the room.” “That doesn’t mean you never had a crush.”
Seungmin’s fingers slid beneath your chin and turned your face towards him. “You had better drink.” You stared at him. “Why?” “Because you had a crush on me.”
“That was never confirmed.” “You asked Chan for my number.” The group laughed. Your sister’s glass stopped halfway to her mouth.
Seungmin’s eyes flicked towards her, then back to you. Your smile softened despite the alcohol. Felix made an emotional noise. Minho pointed at him. “Don’t fucking start.”
Felix’s eyes had already begun shining. “I’m fine.” “You’re about to cry.” “I just think they’re cute.”
Seungmin felt you sniff. “No.” “I’m not doing anything.” “You’re crying.”
“Felix started it.” Felix wiped beneath one eye. “I’m happy.” “That makes it worse,” Seungmin said. You twisted and threw your arms around him.
He caught you automatically. “I love you.” Seungmin sighed, but his arms tightened around your waist. “I love you too.”
౨ৎ
The music became louder after that. So did everyone. Chan lost control of the playlist when you, Felix and Jisung began shouting over every song until he played something you liked. By then, the coffee table had disappeared beneath bottles, crushed cans and bowls of snacks nobody remembered opening. Somebody had spilt something sticky beside the sofa. Changbin had taken his shirt off for reasons nobody understood, and Hyunjin kept threatening to throw it out of the nearest window. You, Felix and Jisung dragged one another into the middle of the room.
At first, you actually danced. Felix knew what he was doing even while drunk. Jisung knew what he was doing until something distracted him, which happened every ten seconds. You possessed confidence far beyond your ability and therefore believed you looked incredible. Changbin encouraged that delusion by cheering whenever you moved. Hyunjin attempted to correct your posture once.
You told him to fuck off. He looked deeply wounded. “I’m trying to save you.” “I don’t need saving.” “You’re dancing like your limbs have separate plans.”
“They’re expressing themselves.” Felix laughed and caught your waist before you could stumble into the coffee table. Jisung pressed against your back, shouting the lyrics directly beside your ear while the three of you moved with very little coordination and enormous enthusiasm. From the sofa, Seungmin watched you. His blue shirt had come unbuttoned slightly at the throat, his hair had fallen across his forehead and his cheeks were warm from the alcohol. One hand rested around his glass while his eyes remained fixed on you.
Your sister sat only a few feet away. She attempted to speak to him twice. He answered politely, but barely looked in her direction. When you caught his gaze, you smiled and crooked one finger towards him.
Seungmin shook his head. You did it again. He lifted his drink as though that explained why he could not move. You pouted.
That worked. Seungmin put the glass down and crossed the room. Felix released your waist with a grin. Jisung remained attached to you until Minho appeared behind him, hooked an arm around his middle and pulled him backwards. Jisung laughed and twisted in his hold. “Jealous?”
Minho murmured something into his ear. Whatever it was made Jisung’s face turn bright red. Felix screamed. You screamed because Felix did.
Seungmin caught your face between both hands. “Why are you shouting?” You pointed vaguely towards Minho and Jisung. “Something happened.” “Nothing happened,” Minho said without looking at you. Jisung buried his face against his shoulder.
You grinned. “Something definitely happened.” Minho gave you a warning look. You immediately turned back to Seungmin and began adjusting his collar as though that had always been your intention. “Coward,” Seungmin murmured.
“You’re supposed to protect me.” “From the consequences of your own behaviour?” “You’re my boyfriend.” “That isn’t what that means.”
His hands slid to your waist as the song changed. You pulled him closer, and although he continued pretending not to dance, his body fell easily into the rhythm of yours. “There,” you said. “You’re dancing.” “I’m standing near you.” “You’re moving.”
“You keep dragging me around.” “You love it.” Seungmin lowered his mouth beside your ear. “I love you.” The softness of it caught beneath your ribs.
You turned and kissed him. He kissed you back without hesitation, one hand spreading across the small of your back while the party surged around you. Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else shouted at them to shut the fuck up. You suspected one of them had been Changbin. When you pulled away, Seungmin followed far enough to steal another brief kiss.
“You’re clingy,” you murmured. “You called me over.” “And you came.” “You pouted.”
“That’s all it takes?” “Unfortunately.” You smiled and kissed the edge of his jaw. His eyes closed.
“Again.” “You’re demanding.” You kissed his jaw again, and Seungmin’s grip tightened around your waist. Across the room, your sister emptied the rest of her glass.
You barely noticed. Seungmin’s attention had already wandered from dancing to pressing lazy kisses against whatever part of you happened to be closest—your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. When his lips brushed beneath your ear, you laughed and pushed lightly at his chest. “You’ve completely stopped dancing.” “I never started.”
“You came over.” “You summoned me.” “I moved one finger.” “Very controlling.”
His hand settled lower against your back, holding you close when somebody squeezed past. You reached up and fixed his collar again. “You look messy.” “You made me messy.” “That sounds suggestive.”
“It was meant to.” His smile turned slow and pleased. Before he could say anything worse, Felix collided gently with your side and caught your hand. “I need her.” Seungmin kept one arm around you. “You’ve had her for three songs.”
“The next one’s important.” “They’ve all been important,” you said. Seungmin looked at Felix. “You sound like her.” “That’s why she loves me.”
Felix pulled. Seungmin held on. You found yourself stretched between them. “Don’t make me choose.” Felix smiled. “You’ll choose me.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. “Choose carefully.” You pretended to consider it before twisting out of Seungmin’s arm, kissing him quickly and letting Felix drag you away. “Coward,” Seungmin called after you. “You still got a kiss!”
“Barely.” You laughed as Felix pulled you back into the crowd. The next hour dissolved into heat, noise and flashes of movement. Hyunjin danced as though someone might be filming him. Changbin attempted to copy him with enough force to make the floor shake.
Nearby, Minho took the glass out of Jisung’s hand and drank from it himself. Jisung watched him. “You said I couldn’t have that.” “You can’t.” “But you can?”
“Yes.” “That’s hot.” Minho looked away, but not before you saw him smile. Someone produced two microphones.
The karaoke began badly and deteriorated almost immediately. You, Felix and Jisung chose a song all three of you knew, which would have helped if any of you had agreed on when to start. Jisung came in too early. You missed half the first line. Felix attempted to hold the performance together and ended up laughing so hard that he could no longer sing. Changbin provided backing vocals without a microphone. Hyunjin acted out the lyrics from the sofa.
Chan kept trying to lower the volume and being shouted at whenever the music became even slightly quieter. By the second song, you had abandoned any pretence of performing well. You and Felix shared one microphone while Jisung used the other for increasingly dramatic ad-libs that had nothing to do with the actual song. Halfway through the chorus, you passed close enough to the sofa for Seungmin to hook his fingers around your wrist. He pulled.
You landed sideways across his lap, and the microphone struck his shoulder. “Shit. Sorry.” Seungmin took it from you before you could hit him again. “Ouch.” “I’m performing.”
“You’re screaming into expensive equipment.” He placed the microphone safely on the table. Felix shouted your name. You tried to stand, but Seungmin held your waist.
“I have responsibilities,” you told him. “You have absolutely no responsibilities.” “Felix needs me.” Felix and Jisung had abandoned the song and were arguing with Chan about whether the lyrics on the screen were wrong.
Seungmin looked towards them. “They seem busy.” “Then I need to help.” “You need to stay here for thirty seconds.” “Why?”
“I missed you.” Your expression softened before you could stop it. Seungmin smiled, knowing he had won. “You’re manipulative.”
You settled more comfortably across his thighs, one arm circling his shoulders. Seungmin rested his face against your chest and closed his eyes while your fingers moved through his hair. Across from you, your sister’s gaze remained fixed on his hand resting against your thigh. Your friend was speaking to her. Your sister nodded without listening.
By one in the morning, the party had split between the living room, the kitchen and the balcony. The music remained loud enough to vibrate through the floor. People drifted between conversations with drinks they had not poured and jackets that did not belong to them. Someone had opened a window, but the room was still hot with too many bodies and the sharp mixture of alcohol, perfume and whatever Changbin had sprayed after insisting he smelled fine. Your friend remained mostly with your sister. She laughed whenever the group became loud enough to include everyone, but she never tried to force herself into the easy physical closeness surrounding the boys.
You checked on her whenever you remembered. Each time, she assured you she was fine. Your sister always said the same. The fourth time you approached, your friend caught your wrist. “You are incredibly drunk.”
You looked down at yourself. “I’m standing.” “Barely.” Your friend laughed. Your sister did not. “She’s been throwing herself around for hours. She always gets like this when she drinks.”
There was something dismissive beneath the words. You recognised it even through the alcohol. Your friend did too. “She looks like she’s having fun,” she replied.
“I’m having an incredible time,” you announced. “I can tell.” Your sister glanced across the room towards Seungmin. “He must be exhausted.” You followed her gaze.
Seungmin was beside Chan, listening to Changbin explain something with far too much hand movement. He caught you looking almost immediately and lifted one eyebrow in silent question. You smiled. He smiled back. “Does he look exhausted?” you asked.
“He’s spent the whole night following you around.” “He likes me.” “I’m aware.” Before the conversation could sharpen, Felix appeared behind you and looped an arm around your shoulders. “There you are.”
“I’ve been here.” “You disappeared.” “I was checking on them.” Felix glanced towards your friend and sister. “Everything good?”
Your friend nodded. “We’re fine.” Your sister smiled at him. “We were talking.” “Great. I’m stealing her.” “You always steal her,” your sister said.
Felix laughed as though she had made a joke. “Everyone does.” He pulled you towards the kitchen. You looked back once. Your friend gave you a small, reassuring smile.
Your sister was already watching Seungmin again. In the kitchen, Jisung was sitting on the counter while Minho stood between his knees, holding a glass out of reach. “That’s mine,” Jisung complained. “It was yours.”
“I’m not finished.” “You said the room was spinning.” “It stopped.” “When?”
“When I closed one eye.” Felix immediately took Jisung’s side. “Give it back.” Minho looked at him. “You’re a terrible influence.” “You’re drinking too,” you pointed out.
“I can handle it.” “So can I.” Minho gave up and handed the drink to you instead. Jisung gasped. “That’s mine.”
“You’re too drunk.” “So are you.” “I’m handling it better.” Felix took the glass from you and drank before either of you could protest.
Minho laughed. It was becoming obvious that he was far drunker than he appeared. His movements were still controlled and his words remained clear, but his eyes had softened and he was smiling much too often. You stepped into the space beside him and wrapped both arms around his waist. Minho looked down. “What’s this?”
“I’m appreciating you.” “You’re crushing my shirt.” You rested your cheek against his chest. “You smell nice.” “None of you are getting another drink.”
“You ruined it,” you complained. “He ruins everything,” Jisung agreed. Minho caught Jisung’s chin and tilted his face upwards. “You can barely keep both eyes open.” “I only need one.”
“For what?” “To look at you.” Minho stared at him. You buried your face against Minho’s shoulder to hide your laughter.
Jisung looked unbearably pleased with himself. Minho’s ears turned pink. “You’re a fucking menace.” “You love me.” Seungmin entered the kitchen before anyone could comment.
He looked at Minho’s arm around you and Jisung hanging over his shoulders Then he looked at Minho. “You’ve collected them.” “I didn’t.” Seungmin approached and slid both hands onto your hips. “You keep disappearing.”
“You were talking.” “I can talk while holding you.” “That sounds inconvenient.” “I’m talented.”
Minho nodded towards you. “Take her before she asks for another shot.” You turned in Seungmin’s arms. “He’s trying to get rid of me.” “You’re attached to his shirt.” “I like him.”
“You like everyone tonight.” “I like everyone every night.” Seungmin’s expression softened. The next drinking game began in the kitchen because nobody could be bothered to move.
It was meant to be truth or drink. Within minutes, it became an excuse to ask invasive questions and shout whenever somebody refused to answer. Changbin joined first, followed by Hyunjin and Jeongin. Chan arrived last, realised what was happening and attempted to leave. You caught his wrist. “No.”
“I’m hosting.” “You’re hiding.” “I need to check the living room.” Jeongin looked towards the doorway. “It’s still there.”
Chan appealed silently to Minho for help. Minho poured him a drink. “Traitor.” “You chose to host.”
Everyone crowded around the counter and floor. You ended up sitting between Minho’s legs with your back against his chest because the chairs had disappeared beneath coats and bags. Seungmin sat in front of you, one hand wrapped loosely around your ankle. Jisung remained tucked against Minho’s side, his head on his shoulder and one leg draped over yours. Changbin pointed at you first. “Truth or drink?” “Truth.”
“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done because you were jealous?” Seungmin looked interested. You looked at Changbin. “I’m not jealous.” The entire room laughed.
“That wasn’t the question,” Hyunjin said. You raised your glass. “Then I’m drinking.” Seungmin’s hand tightened around your ankle. “Answer.” “You don’t get to interfere.”
“I’m probably involved.” “You don’t know that.” “I definitely know that.” You drank instead.
Everyone shouted. “Coward,” Changbin said. “That’s the point of the game.” “The point is to expose yourself.”
“That sounds like a different game,” Jeongin said. You chucked at that The questions became worse from there. Felix refused to reveal who had received a flirtatious message he sent to the wrong person.
Changbin demanded to know whether anybody had ever hooked up somewhere they could have been caught. Half the room drank. Chan stared at everyone with a raised eyebrow. “In my home?” “Not necessarily,” Jeongin said.
“That did not reassure me.” Jisung claimed he had never done anything humiliating because he was horny. The entire group drank on his behalf. “Fuck all of you.”
Minho leant close enough to murmur something beside his ear. Jisung’s face turned red again. You twisted around. “What did he say?” “Nothing.”
Minho looked unbearably pleased. Your sister stood at the edge of the kitchen beside your friend. She watched Seungmin’s hand move slowly over your ankle. Then she watched Minho’s arm settle across your middle when you leant back against him. Perhaps she expected Seungmin to object.
Instead, he reached forward, caught your chin and tilted your face towards his. “My turn,” he said. You kissed him. The kiss was brief, but intimate enough to inspire several dramatic complaints.
When you pulled away, Seungmin’s thumb brushed once beneath your lip. Your sister looked away. The game ended when Chan realised the music in the living room was loud enough to make the glasses vibrate. Everyone returned to dancing.
By then, nobody pretended it was organised. You, Felix and Jisung shouted lyrics you barely knew with your arms around one another. Sometimes you danced. Sometimes you merely jumped during the chorus and trusted somebody to catch you. Changbin joined whenever the song was good. Hyunjin joined whenever he considered the song worthy.
Jeongin joined only to make everyone else look worse. At one point, Minho caught your hand as you passed and spun you beneath his arm. You nearly completed the movement gracefully. Then you lost your balance.
Minho caught you against his chest. Jisung caught you from the other side. The three of you laughed, tangled together. Seungmin appeared behind you and closed both hands around your waist. “You’re stealing my girlfriend,” he told Minho.
Minho shrugged. “She came willingly.” “He spun me.” “You asked,” Minho reminded you. Seungmin looked down at you. “You ask everyone for things.”
“And they give them to me.” “That’s because you’re spoilt.” “By you.” “Mostly.”
He kissed your forehead. You leant into him, suddenly overwhelmed by the warmth of the room and how much you loved everyone in it. Across the room, your friend smiled at the sight. Your sister finished another drink.
By the time you needed the bathroom, you were far beyond pleasantly drunk. You were still awake, still talking and technically capable of walking, but the room tilted whenever you turned too quickly. Seungmin noticed you heading towards the hallway and followed. You looked over your shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“With you.” “I can piss alone.” “I’m making sure you reach the bathroom.” “That’s insulting.”
Seungmin caught your waist before you walked into the wall. “Exactly.” You allowed him to guide you down the hallway, although you complained the entire way. At the bathroom door, you planted both hands against his chest. “You can’t come in.” “I wasn’t planning to.”
“You looked like you were.” “I was opening the door.” Seungmin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be here.” “Why?”
“Because you’ll forget where the living room is.” “It’s one hallway.” “And yet.” You narrowed your eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.
When you came back out, your sister was standing in front of him. One hand rested against the wall beside his shoulder. Seungmin was leaning away. “You could come upstairs with me,” she said.
He blinked at her. “Why?” You stopped in the doorway. Even through the alcohol, laughter rose immediately in your chest. Your sister looked at him as though he were deliberately being stupid. “You know why.”
“I genuinely don’t.” She moved closer, forcing Seungmin’s back against the wall. “We could have sex.” For one long second, Seungmin simply stared at her.
Then his gaze found yours over her shoulder. You covered your mouth. The expression on his face made it impossible not to laugh. His eyes widened slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching as though he could not decide whether to be horrified or offended. Your sister followed his gaze and found you standing there.
Her face hardened. “Oh, please. Don’t act like it’s ridiculous.” That made you laugh harder. “I’m sorry. His face.” “You’re not helping,” Seungmin said.
“You asked why.” “It was a reasonable question.” “She invited you upstairs.” “She could’ve needed something.”
“At one in the morning?” “I didn’t know what she meant.” “You did,” your sister snapped. Seungmin looked back at her. “Apparently not.”
She folded her arms. “You haven’t even considered it.” “No.” “Why?” He stared at her.
Then he gave one short, humourless laugh. “Because I don’t want to.” “You don’t know that.” “I do.” “You’ve never given me a chance.”
“I’m not required to.” Your laughter faded. Your sister stepped closer and reached for his chest. Seungmin caught her wrist before she could touch him.
“Stop.” The word was calm. Firm. He moved her hand away and released it.
Humiliation sharpened your sister’s expression as she turned towards you. “You think this is funny because you assume he’d never choose me.” “I don’t assume it.” “You should stop speaking for him.” “I’m standing right here,” Seungmin said.
She ignored him. “You’ve always done this. You get something and act smug because you know somebody else deserves it more.” The alcohol inside you turned suddenly heavy. You steadied yourself against the bathroom door. “Somebody else?” “You know what I mean.”
“No. Say it properly.” Her eyes travelled over you. Your clothes had shifted from dancing. Your lipstick was smudged. Your hair was a mess and your balance remained questionable. You had never felt happier.
“Look at you,” she said. “You’re completely wasted. He’s spent all night following you around while you throw yourself over every man in the room.” Seungmin’s expression hardened. You laughed softly. “Is that what this is about?” “I’m saying he could do better.”
“With you?” “Yes.” The certainty would have been impressive if it were not so pathetic. Your smile disappeared.
Your sister noticed and pushed harder. “I’m prettier. I know how to behave. I don’t need eight men constantly touching me and telling me how special I am.” “Nobody is taking care of me.” “You can barely stand.”
“I’m drunk at a party.” “You’ve been climbing into their laps and letting them put their hands all over you. It’s embarrassing.” Seungmin stepped away from the wall and moved to your side. His hand settled securely at the back of your waist.
Your sister watched it. “She hasn’t embarrassed me once,” he said. “She’s been all over Minho. Felix practically had his hands under her clothes earlier.” “So?”
Your sister blinked. Seungmin’s thumb moved slowly against your side. “She loves them,” he said. “They love her. I know exactly where I stand.” “You should have more self-respect.”
His eyebrows rose. “You asked me to cheat on her beside a bathroom.” “You’ve spent the whole night trying to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, “and somehow I’m the slut?” Your sister glared at you. Seungmin continued before she could answer. “Don’t talk to either of us about self-respect.”
“You only say that because she’s standing here.” “I rejected you when she wasn’t.” “You knew she’d find out.” “I knew because I was going to tell her.”
“Why?” “Because she’s my girlfriend.” Your sister shook her head. “You don’t have to keep settling because she got to you first.” Seungmin went still.
There it was. The belief beneath every comparison and every attempt. You had simply reached him first. Had she met him earlier, dressed better, tried harder or pushed for long enough, he would eventually recognise that he had chosen the wrong sister.
Seungmin’s arm tightened around you. “I noticed her,” he said. Your sister scoffed. “You hadn’t met me.” “I’ve met you now.”
The hallway became very quiet. Music still thudded beyond it. Someone laughed in the living room. Your friend called your sister’s name once, distant and uncertain. Seungmin looked directly at her. “And I still choose her.”
Your sister’s face changed. For a moment, she appeared almost sober. Then the anger returned. “She isn’t better than me.”
“This isn’t about who’s better.” “It always is.” “No,” you said quietly. “It’s always been that way to you.” She looked at you.
You could feel Seungmin watching your face. At first, it had been funny. Her unnecessary outfits. Her fake excuses. The way she interpreted Seungmin’s basic manners as secret attraction. Even now, the idea that he might accept remained ridiculous.
But the joke had always required you to ignore the part where your sister could not want something without explaining why you deserved it less. “You can want him,” you said. “I don’t care. It’s humiliating for you, but it doesn’t threaten me.” Her mouth twisted. “What pisses me off is that you can’t admit you want him without telling him I’m ugly, exhausting, childish or not good enough. You don’t flirt with him. You campaign against me.”
“I’ve never called you ugly.” “You keep telling everyone you’re prettier.” “I am.” Seungmin made a disbelieving sound.
You glanced at him. “What?” “Nothing. I’m trying very hard to remain polite.” Your sister folded her arms. “See? You’ve turned him against me.”
“I didn’t have to. You did that by ignoring him every time he said no.” The words landed. Your sister looked at Seungmin. His expression did not soften.
“I thought you were being loyal,” she said. “I was being clear.” “You were trying not to hurt her.” “I was trying not to humiliate you.”
Her cheeks flushed. Seungmin’s voice lowered. “You’ve made that impossible.” Your friend appeared at the far end of the hallway. She looked between the three of you, taking in your sister’s expression and Seungmin’s arm around your waist. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” your sister said immediately. You laughed tiredly. “She asked Seungmin to have sex with her.” Your friend’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” your sister snapped.
“How should I say it?” “She’s drunk,” your friend said carefully. “So am I.” “I know.”
Your friend approached and touched your sister’s arm. “Come and sit down.” Your sister pulled away. “Everyone’s acting like I’ve done something terrible.” “You propositioned my boyfriend after he repeatedly told you he wasn’t interested.” “You don’t own him.”
“No,” you said. “I don’t.” That stopped her. You rested more heavily against Seungmin’s side but kept your eyes on her. “He’s a person. He said no. That should have mattered even if I didn’t exist.”
Your friend looked at your sister. “She’s right.” Betrayal flashed across your sister’s face. “You’re supposed to be here with me.” “I’m here because she invited me.” The answer was gentle but firm.
Your sister looked between you. Then she laughed bitterly. “Fine. Everyone thinks I’m pathetic.” Nobody answered. That seemed to hurt more than any denial would have.
Your friend held out her hand. “Come on.” After a moment, your sister accepted it. She allowed herself to be led back towards the living room without looking at either of you again. You remained in the hallway.
Seungmin rubbed one hand slowly over your back. You watched them disappear. Then you looked at him. “You really asked why.” His mouth dropped open.
The laughter returned before you could stop it. Seungmin stared at you. “You’re impossible.” “Your face was so confused.” “She was vague.”
“She had you against a wall.” “She said upstairs.” “At one in the morning.” “That could mean anything.”
“Name one other thing.” Seungmin opened his mouth. Nothing came out. You waited.
His expression grew increasingly offended. “Exactly.” He caught your waist in both hands and pulled you closer. “You’re very annoying.” “You love me.”
“I’m reconsidering.” “No, you aren’t.” “No,” he admitted. Your smile softened.
The alcohol made it difficult to hold on to one emotion for long. Amusement blurred into exhaustion, which blurred into the ache your sister’s words had left behind. Seungmin noticed. He always did. “Hey.”
You looked at him. His expression had gentled, eyes warm despite the alcohol. “Are you okay?” “I’m extremely drunk.” “I know.”
“She’s a bitch.” “She is.” “I can’t believe she said I throw myself over everyone.” “You do,” Seungmin said, completely unbothered. “Luckily, everyone seems very happy to catch you.”
“With all of you.” “I know.” His hand settled more firmly at your waist. “I’ve never complained.” “And you don’t care?” Seungmin looked genuinely confused. “Why would I?”
You shrugged. “Because she said—” “I don’t care what she said.” The answer came quickly enough to interrupt you. Seungmin lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles.
“I know you,” he said. “I know them. I know what all of this is.” His free hand gestured towards the living room, where Felix was shouting the chorus to another song while Minho told somebody to turn the music down without making any effort to do it himself. “You’re my girlfriend,” Seungmin continued. “That doesn’t mean you stop belonging with them too.” Something warm tightened in your chest.
“That was disgustingly sweet.” You kissed him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the kiss deepened. Nothing frantic. Nothing performed for anybody else. Just familiar affection in a dim hallway while the party continued metres away.
When you pulled back, Seungmin followed for one more kiss. Then another. “You’re doing too many,” you murmured. “I’ve lost count.”
“You always say that.” You laughed and rested your forehead against his. “There she is,” he murmured. Footsteps sounded behind you.
Felix appeared first, followed by Jisung and Minho. Felix’s expression changed when he saw your face. “Are you okay?” You nodded. Jisung looked unusually serious. “Your friend said something happened.”
“My sister asked Seungmin to sleep with her.” Jisung stared at Seungmin. Then at you. Then back at Seungmin.
“Why?” You burst out laughing. Seungmin pointed at him. “See? Reasonable question.” “That isn’t what I meant,” Jisung said quickly. “Why would she think you’d say yes?”
“That sounded better after clarification.” Minho stepped closer and touched the side of your face. “Are you actually all right?” You leant into his palm. “Mostly.” “Mostly isn’t yes.”
“She was being a bitch.” “I gathered.” From the living room, Changbin shouted, “If you lot are done fondling each other, we’re doing another round.” Chan shouted back that nobody was doing another fucking shot.
Jeongin appeared in the hallway holding four. The party carried on around you.
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Sorrryyy i haven’t posted in so long, ive been editing a pretty lengthy oneshot. But it should be ready sooon!
I’ve gone down the rabbit hole of soft dom minho with condescending praise and 🤤🤤🤤 i genuinely can’t read anything else now
Movie night gone wrong(right)
Minsung x f!reader
Synopsis: already established relationship - movie night derails after jisung gets needy and can’t keep his hands off you.
A/n: i’m not gonna lie i was super nervous to post this as i’ve never written smut before but i thought it turned out pretty good! Also soft dom minho🤤
Cw: pure smut
Wc: 1.2k
The living room was cozy and dim, lit mostly by the glow of the action movie none of you were truly watching. You were comfortably sandwiched between them on the big couch
—Minho on your left with his arm draped around your shoulders, and Jisung curled into your right side like an affectionate koala, head resting on your chest and one leg hooked over yours.
Jisung had been restless all evening. His fingers, which had started innocently tracing patterns on your thigh, slowly inched higher under the oversized t-shirt you wore. He pressed soft kisses along your collarbone, then your neck, letting out a tiny needy sound as his hand slipped between your legs. He rubbed slow circles over your panties, right against your clit.
You bit your lip, hips shifting into his touch with a small, playful smirk. Instead of stopping him, you parted your thighs just enough to give him more room.
Minho noticed right away. His sharp eyes caught the movement under your shirt, and a low, amused chuckle vibrated against your side.
“Well, well,” he murmured, voice warm but already carrying that teasing, condescending edge. “Our Sungie can’t even sit through a movie without getting his hands on you, honey? So impatient tonight.”
Jisung whimpered softly but didn’t stop, rubbing a little firmer, eyes glassy as he looked up at you. “Baby… please? Just a little?”
The word came out hushed and desperate. You carded your fingers through his fluffy hair and nodded, tugging him closer. “Yeah, baby. Keep going.”
Minho’s hand gently caught your jaw, turning your face to his. He kissed you slow and deep, tongue brushing yours while Jisung kept working tight circles over your clit. When Minho pulled back, his smirk was soft, eyes full of affection.
“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he cooed, thumb stroking your cheek. “Already getting so wet for us. My pretty honey, letting Sungie play with her like this right here on the couch.”
You arched a brow at him, that bratty spark showing as you rocked your hips against Jisung’s fingers with a little more attitude, challenging him silently.
Minho’s gaze darkened with fondness. “Ah, like that, hmm?” He tugged Jisung’s hair gently, pulling his head up. “Not like that, Sungie. If you’re going to take care of her, do it properly. On your knees. Taste her. Show her how much you missed her.”
Jisung’s eyes lit up. He slid off the couch eagerly, kneeling between your legs and tugging your panties down. Minho helped, lifting your hips smoothly before settling you back against his chest, arms wrapped around you from behind.
“That’s it. Good boy,” Minho praised, one hand staying in Jisung’s hair to guide him forward. “Start slow for her… yes, just like that. Lick her nice and gentle.”
Jisung moaned the moment his tongue dragged through your folds—broad, eager, and so devoted. He swirled around your clit, then dipped lower, tasting you with hungry little sounds. You gasped, thighs trembling as you gripped his hair tighter.
Minho held you open for him, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Look at him, honey. So hungry for your pussy. Our Sungie would stay right here for hours if I let him, wouldn’t you, Sungie?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Jisung hummed against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. He sucked softly on your clit, messy and perfect.
Minho chuckled lowly, the sound warm against your ear. “So eager. Such a perfect boy for us. And you—” He nipped at your neck, sucking a mark into the skin before soothing it with his tongue. “—you’re taking it so well already. My good girl. So spoiled, letting him worship you like this. Look how messy he’s getting, chin all wet because you need it so badly.”
You moaned, grinding against Jisung’s face with a defiant little roll of your hips. Minho’s hand slid down to spread you wider, helping Jisung bury his tongue deeper.
“Fuck—Sungie,” you breathed, voice catching.
“I know, honey,” Minho cooed,
condescending praise dripping sweetly. “He feels incredible, doesn’t he? Working so hard between your legs just to hear those pretty sounds. You’re dripping for us already. Such a sweet, needy pussy taking everything he gives.”
Jisung pulled back just enough to whine, lips shiny. “Mommy tastes so good… want you to come on my tongue.”
Minho guided him right back down with a gentle tug. “Then make her come, Sungie. Don’t stop until she’s shaking for us.”
The steady rhythm of Jisung’s tongue combined with Minho’s low, teasing words and the possessive way he held you pushed you over the edge. You came hard, thighs clamping around Jisung’s head as pleasure crashed through you. Minho kissed your neck through it, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. So pretty when you fall apart for us. Good girl… such a good girl.”
Jisung kept licking you gently until the tremors faded. Minho finally pulled him up, kissing him deeply—tasting you on his tongue—then turned to kiss you just as thoroughly, slow and full of love.
“Bedroom,” Minho said softly, voice warm. “I want both my babies spread out where I can take proper care of you.”
Clothes came off in a trail to the bed. Jisung was hard and leaking, whimpering as you pulled him on top. He slid inside you with one needy thrust, moaning against your neck as he started moving in shallow, desperate rolls.
“… so warm,” he whispered.
Minho knelt beside you, one hand stroking Jisung’s back, the other cupping your breast. He leaned in and bit your shoulder, leaving another pretty mark, then soothed it with his lips.
“Look at you two,” he murmured, affection and that teasing dominance blending perfectly. “So perfect together. Sungie fucking our honey so sweetly, and you taking him so well. My needy babies. You both need me to guide you, don’t you?”
You smirked up at him, rolling your hips to meet Jisung’s thrusts with a touch of playful defiance. Minho laughed softly, the sound so fond it made your chest flutter. “Bratty tonight, honey? That’s okay. I love it.” He reached between you and rubbed your clit in firm circles, making you clench around Jisung.
“Come on his cock for me. Let him feel how much you love it. That’s it… good girl. So tight and wet for us.”
Jisung whimpered, pace quickening. “Hyung—she’s squeezing me—”
“I know,” Minho cooed, kissing Jisung’s temple. “She feels so good, doesn’t she? Fuck her just like that, Sungie. Make her come again so I can have my turn with our pretty honey.”
You shattered around Jisung moments later, pulling him over with you. He moaned “Mommy—” breathlessly as he spilled deep inside.
Minho gave you both gentle kisses while you came down, then carefully moved Jisung to the side. He slid into you with a low groan, forehead pressed to yours.
“So full of us already,” he whispered, the dominant tone softening for a heartbeat as pure love shone through. “Love you both so much. My everything, jagiya.”
Then he started moving—deeper, steadier—while Jisung cuddled close, kissing every mark on your skin and whispering how beautiful you looked.
Minho’s praise flowed steadily. “Such a good girl, honey, taking everything we give you. So warm and perfect around me. Look how well you both listen when I take care of you. My sweet babies.”
You came one last time with Minho buried deep, his teeth grazing your neck and Jisung’s fingers laced with yours. Minho followed right after, groaning your names softly as he filled you, pressing tender kisses to your face.
LOVE LETTER — 001: "You said to knock, but curiosity is a terrible thing to fight."
TEARS RUN DOWN MY THIGHS !
Or: Han jisung buys a new toy, decides to use said toy, but has no idea that his roommate will be coming home early which leads to.... problems.
Fic includes: nerd!sung, smut, sub!han, toy usage, overstim, fem!reader, dubcon (if you squint maybe..), subspace, swearing, han jisung is LOUD and rambly, oral (m receiving), reader helps jisung jerk off, usage of "baby," (directed at Jisung), mommy kink, roommates to lovers(?)
Wc: 2.9k (Wowie!!)
Jiji notes: this is my first ever fic yippee!! This is inspired by one chinese post I saw on twitter HAHAHA so big credit to them. Reblogs, comments, and likes are very well-appreciated. Enjoy reading !!
To say Han Jisung was excited would be the understatement of the century.
After the most brutal couple of weeks he'd had at university, he thought he deserved a little treat for himself. Between tutoring his juniors, submitting requirements on time, acing tests and surprise quizzes, and—most importantly—finishing that godforsaken coding sheet Chan wanted for a robotics competition, he'd earned it.
Point is, Han Jisung was tired.
He also hadn't had much time to indulge himself lately, especially since you'd become his roommate.
Now, don't get him wrong—you were helpful, funny, and always willing to listen to his ramblings about music production and beat-making and whatever became his favorite fixation at the moment. You'd even sit through entire anime marathons with him.
But, God, you seriously needed to learn how to knock.
There had been far too many incidents of you barging in while he was changing or in the middle of an online class. And those were just the first few examples that came to mind.
So when he decided to buy a toy to indulge in himself and his needs exploring more of kinks too, he made sure to lock his door and told you he was doing something 'important' so you wouldn't disturb him.
And that brings him to today. He'd been buzzing with anticipation all day, constantly tracking the package and checking whether it was already out for delivery that Changbin even joked he must have a girlfriend blowing up his phone lately with texts to get him to be glued 24/7 to his phone. Meanwhile Jisung just rolled his eyes and kept insisting it was not a girlfriend and just a "simple package".
And when he finally got that rewarding notification that his package had been delivered, it immediately made him ecstatic, especially after such a long excruciating day. He practically sprinted home, leaving Changbin and Chan standing there in confusion to eat up all the dust from how fast he had been running.
When he was finally at the doorstep of your shared apartment, he immediately picked up the box and practically tripped over his feet opening the door, toeing off his shoes at the entryway and tearing into the package impatiently.
He was wondering at first why the apartment was so dark and quiet, but he remembered you were out for an after-class club or something along those lines, and, he thought to himself as being incredibly lucky right now, he can finally relax without any interruptions!
He wasted absolutely no time heading to his room.
Dropping his bag beside his desk, he sat down and opened the package. Excitement buzzed through him as he examined its contents. His jacket and pants were quickly discarded onto a nearby chair, leaving him in a simple white tee and his boxers, and he finally allowed himself a moment to relax after the long day.
"Okay... let's see what you can do..." Jisung murmurs, unboxing the item and inspecting it. The toy was a bullet stroker, or that's what it said on the box. He checks the information on its little manual "Sucking sensation.... helps with jerking off... wow, it really does everything huh?" He jokes, murmuring while he reads the rest. And embarrassingly, the thought of using it already got him hard in his boxers, some pre already leaking, darkening his boxers further.
Shimmying out of his boxers and propping his pillow upright to support his back when he'd lean on the headboard, Jisung finally let himself enjoy his new toy. Of course, he cleaned it up before use.
"Okay, let's see you in action then," Jisung concludes, grabbing some of his favorite strawberry-flavored lube from his bedside drawer, opening its cap with a distinct 'click!' that reverberated throughout the small space. He squirts it all over his very hard and erect cock as well as the toy, the cold liquid making him hiss a little as he slowly inserts it, wincing at the squelch that made him shiver.
He lets himself be familiar with the sensation first. It was warm thanks to the heat of his skin and the lube that was quick to warm up. It almost felt jelly-like and tight, hugging his cock tight once he started to move his hand a little
He slides the toy over the head of his penis, eyes shutting tight at the sensation, a shaky groan leaving his lips as he moves it in a slow up-down-up-down motion to spread the moisture. The toy gripped him like a vice, like a suction feeling that didn't want to let him go, a tight slide when he flicked his wrist again to build a steady pace.
Jisung's hands paw around at the bed, looking for the remote that came with it, fumbling for that little item, opening his eyes with effort as he presses the "on" button.
Once the vibration starts, Jisung's hips jerk up into the toy in surprise, “O-oh! Shit–! That's– haha that's pretty– hngk s-strong!” He whimpers, a heavy buzz at first, but once he pressed it firmly against his skin, it quickly turned to a soft, quiet hum, filling the room along with the soft squelches of the toy gliding when he moved his hand.
His fingers pressed the button again, a steady hum that was a little stronger than before. He starts to slide down the bed more, tummy tensing as loud moans leave his swollen lips, not deciding to even be quiet since technically he is alone at the moment
A particularly louder whimper steals his breath when he presses the toy against the underside of his cock, toes curling at the sensations. "F–fuck! 's good..." he breathes out, eyes half-lidded.
It went on like this for longer. He was progressively getting louder and louder the more he let himself succumb to the sensations, His breaths turning to ragged, shallow gasps. The wet slaps of the lube intensify as he finally starts to stroke the vibrating sleeve up and down in a frantic, desperate rhythm. (When had he even stopped moving his hand?)
His fingers tightened around the remote, fingers slipping as he pressed the button to turn it to his highest setting, a choked-out whine being punched out of his lungs
"O-oh my go–angh! Go-d!.. T-Too much–!" Jisung's voice pitches higher and higher once he starts getting closer to his orgasm, two hands clutching the toy as the wet slaps of the toy intensify once he starts fucking his hips up into it harder and harder.
The buzzing grew intense, his thighs started to quiver as he felt like his brain was leaking out of his ears. The sensations all the more felt like his blood was turning to liquid heat, rushing under his skin. “ 'm close– ngah! Gon–na c-cum!" He announces to no one, hips chasing after the pleasure almost frantically
But just as he was about to completely tip over the edge, he suddenly heard his bedroom door open. Your voice immediately fills the room, and he squeaks, pulling his hands away, and clamping his legs shut, pulling his blanket further up his chest. "J–jeez what the hell!!" He yells, flustered.
"Sorry! Sorry!" You apologize, fully entering his room now. You assumed he'd just been resting, but seeing that he's shirtless, maybe he just came back from the shower, and it was another one of those 'I almost walked into him changing again' moments.
You shut the door behind you, the 'click!' His door felt like a doom bell in Jisung's head because suddenly you started to.... chat with him?!
"Okay, I just HAD to get this out before I forget, listen— remember Ji-a from my biology class? Yeah, like the one that told me I've been stealing her things when I clearly HADN'T? Yeah– guess what she did today!" You kept rambling on and on, your hands completely expressing what you were trying to convey, your brows furrowing at whatever gossip you were telling him.
And while usually, Jisung would listen and be completely invested in whatever you said, all the words you spewed out felt like a buzz in his head. Because he had been so scared of you coming in to see him that he quickly covered himself with his blanket, he forgot to turn off his toy.
Which meant that right now, while you're babbling on and on about something he usually would've cared about, he can't bring himself to actually listen because his cock was leaking, the toy still hugging it tight while it kept vibrating on his most sensitive spots. His thighs tensing, his vision blurring with tears he kept trying to blink back.
His knuckles went white with how tight he clutched his blanket, small shaky hums, and "To-Totally!" Left his lips. He pinched his arm, trying to direct his head into something other than the overwhelming feeling of his orgasm getting closer and closer.
Though much to his horror, his body couldn't contain all this pleasure anymore and before he knew it, he's cumming and oh– he's cumming so so much that he felt floaty and lightheaded. He shut his eyes, desperately trying to fight back a moan, his lips bitten harsh enough to draw blood and the metallic tang floods his taste buds.
“Sung? Sungie– Hey??? Are you listening?” He hears you, though it starts to sound like he's underwater, your voice distant. He was still panting, chest heaving from the brutal and soul-sucking climax, the toy still vibrating on his dick. He didn't register it, but you stepped closer in confusion, tapping his thigh with much force which immediately sent him further as his entire body violently jerked, squirting all over as the blankets started to darken from the stain. His eyes rolled back, back arching once the second orgasm was pulled out of his oversensitive body.
“Jisung…? Did you just–” You murmur in disbelief, watching as he desperately tries to screw his eyes open, his eyes wide like saucers, pupils dilated as his tongue was practically rolling out of his mouth, drool starting to slip. He whimpers, the feeling of fear creeping in as he tries to pull back from you, creating some distance although his movements were clumsy.
“ 'm s-sorry I'm sorry–" a moan cuts him off. The apologies tumbling out of his mouth blurring to begs. "T–turn it o– ogkh–! Fuck! Off! Turn it off please, please, please!” He begs, a helpless, broken whimper caught in his throat as his thighs begin to shake uncontrollably all over again. He couldn't hold back anymore, his arm was all bruised up from trying to pinch himself quiet to no effort as he writhes on the bed. Meanwhile, you, who had been standing frozen in shock, snapped out of your haze at watching your roommate literally fall apart all from a toy that you could finally hear the buzzing of once you stopped talking.
You fumbled around the bed, fingers coming into contact with smooth plastic and you pressed the button, the incessant buzzing of the toy finally shut off leaving Jisung shivering and half-ruined, softly whining at the loss of pleasure as he pants, shaking fingers finally pulling away the toy from his swollen cock.
“hey, hey, sungie?” You kneel, the mattress dipping under your weight as Jisung subtly nods his head in reply. You quickly noticed his eyes were half-closed, glazed over, and his legs were trembling so violently the mattress shook “Hey… are you okay?” You cooed softly, voice laced with concern. Meanwhile, Jisung didn't even answer, just letting out a fractured, breathless whine while he stares blankly at the ceiling
Worried, You leaned over and placed your palm flat against Jisung's inner thigh to try and steady his shaking leg. But the instant her warm skin met his, his entire spine arched off the bed. A sharp, incredibly loud gasp tore from his throat, his fingers instantly clawing into the bedsheets. He wasn't pushing you away—his hips instinctively twitched upward, helplessly chasing the heat of your hand.
“Nghk–! Too much!” He moans. You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs as you realized just how incredibly raw and responsive he was.
Jisung looks up at you, eyes completely unfocused, silently begging for more but unable to form a single word. His throat clicked as he tried to swallow. The sheer vulnerability of his state sent a heavy, electric jolt straight to your stomach. And just as much your logical mind would go against it, you felt yourself getting wet under your skirt. The boundary was gone.
You didn't pull your hand back; instead, you slowly slid your palm higher and higher, tracing the fever-hot skin of his thigh until your fingers brushed against him. "You're so sensitive," you whispered, Jisung's breath hitched while your voice trembled. "Let me help you.”
You leaned down, your lips brushing against his hyper-sensitive skin before you finally took him into the melting warmth of your waiting mouth. The contrast to the cold plastic toy was too much. He let out a loud, cracked sob, his hands flying up to grip your hair, fingers tight begging to just hold onto something stable while his world spun. It sent a shiver across your skin once he tugs, making you moan against his cock
You started with small kitten licks to the head of his cock, then swirled your tongue over the wet head of his length, hearing him instantly start to unravel out loud. "Oh god, o-oh! fuck!, it's too warm, you're too warm," he babbled, his voice raw and frantic. "Please—fuck, I can't think, my head is spinning, everything is spinning…” Jisung moans, head hitting the pillow as he vocalises every feeling coursing through his veins once he starts to get close again.
Seeing him right on the ragged edge, you pulled back, shaking his grip on your head away, replacing your mouth with the slick, tight grip of your palm. You stroked him fast—much easier with his previous two orgasms—using his own slick moisture, looking right up at his glazed eyes.
"Look at you," you murmured, pumping him steadily. "You're doing so well for me, baby. You look so beautiful unraveling f'me." The praise sent an electric jolt straight to Jisung's core, shattering whatever tiny bit of control he (surprisingly) had left.
He didn't just groan; he started loudly rambling in a desperate, unfiltered loop as the third climax was hitting him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, mommy, it's so good, fuck, you're so good to me, please don't stop—fuck, it's close! It's coming—" His thighs convulsed violently as he wails.
His fingers clawed at the sheets, bunching the fabric into balls as he clenched his fists “gonna cum– mommy please I'm gonna— gonna cum—” loud ah ah ah's left his lips as he arched his back, hips stuttering as he thrusted up into your tight warm hand, mind so torn between pulling away and wanting more.
And at once, a sudden powerful spray of clear, watery fluid gushed over your hand. He kept crying out, eyes rolling and back bowing in a beautiful arch off the bed, his voice cracking into breathless, repetitive whimpers long after the fluid stopped, completely spent and entirely yours. He slumps back down the mattress, the powerful waves finally subsided, leaving the room quiet except for the ragged sound of his wet, broken pants.
He lay completely flat, chest heaving, his fingers still weakly tangled in the bedsheets. You didn't pull away. Instead, you crawled further up the mattress, the bed dipping as you hovered over his shivering frame.
His eyes were still glazed, pupils blown wide as he stared blankly up at you, his lower jaw slack. "Look at me, Sungie," you cooed softly, your hand coming up to gently cup his flushed, sweaty cheek. He let out a weak whimper at the contact, his head automatically tilting into your palm.
You leaned down, your lips catching his breath before you pressed your mouth firmly against his. The kiss was immediate, heavy, and sloppy. You slid your tongue past his parted lips, tasting the unmistakable, sharp tang of his own spent fluids mixed with your saliva. The sheer intimacy of it made Jisung let out a muffled, vibrating groan deep in his throat.
He didn't have the physical strength to hold you or push his hips up anymore, but his mouth eagerly, desperately chased yours, drinking you in like a lifeline. He was completely undone, his body still occasionally twitching beneath you from the aftershocks of the third round, but as you deeply turned the kiss, his frantic breathing finally began to slow. He was entirely safe in your hold, utterly ruined, and completely content just to melt into the mattress under your weight.
As you finally pulled back from the deep, lazy kiss, a thick thread of saliva stretched between your lips before breaking. Jisung lay beneath you looking like a thoroughly dazed, melted puddle, his eyes blinking slowly as the cognitive gears in his brain finally clanked back into place.
He stared at you, then down at the ruined, dark stain on his blanket, and then—horrifyingly—the memory of his own unfiltered mouth echoed in his ears. His eyes suddenly went wide as saucers, a furious, bright crimson blush exploding from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears.
"I... I called you... did.. I?? I did... oh my god," he choked out, burying his face entirely in his hands as a pathetic, muffled groan of pure embarrassment escaped him. You couldn't help but let out a soft, teasing chuckle, leaning down to plant a fond kiss right on his knuckles.
"Don't worry about it, roomie," you murmured playfully, brushing a stray piece of hair from his sweaty forehead. "But just so we're clear... you're definitely doing my laundry for next month.”
@hyvnesangel hi... haha... I was the new writer anon 💔💔 I hope you like it.. 😔😔 (I actually wrote this horny with 2 hours of sleep...)
💌 With love, Cupioyennie | Credit to bpdspain for borders!
If you're fifteen or older an still sleep with a stuffed animal please reblog this.
My friend is embarrassed and thinks she’s the only one and I said id prove her wrong.
I want jisung to eat me out as minho sucks hickeys onto me while he gives condesending praise is that so much to ask for
Things I Need:
1: Attention 2: An Orgasm 3: $10,000,000
Package deal
Lee know x f!reader (feat jisung)
Synopsis: han jisung as the third wheel who is not really a third wheel at all
A/n: ahh this had made me want to write for these two even more if anyone has any requests i would love to write them!
Wc: 3,267
Dating Minho came with rules.
Not official ones, of course. Minho wasn’t the type to sit you down with a serious face and a bullet-pointed list of relationship terms. He was more the type to silently place the last piece of meat in your bowl, glare at you until you ate it, and then call you dramatic when you got emotional about it.
Still, the rules existed.
One: Soonie, Doongie, and Dori were to be spoken to with respect at all times.
Two: if Minho cooked, you were expected to praise him properly. Not too much, because then he’d accuse you of being fake. Not too little, because then he’d sulk in silence for exactly twelve minutes.
Three: if you were dating Minho, you were also dating the fact that Han Jisung came attached.
That third rule was the one no one warned you about.
You had discovered it slowly.
At first, Jisung appeared on casual outings. A café trip here, a convenience store run there. Minho would text you, I’m outside, and when you opened the car door, Jisung would already be sitting in the back seat with a packet of crisps, waving at you like he had been invited.
“Hi,” he’d say cheerfully. “Don’t mind me.”
You would glance at Minho.
Minho would stare straight ahead, one hand on the wheel. “He was hungry.”
That was always the excuse.
He was hungry. He was bored. He looked lonely. He said he wanted coffee. He was whining. He followed me out. He has separation anxiety.
Jisung never denied any of it. In fact, he seemed rather proud.
Over time, he stopped sitting in the back seat.
Now, he sat in the passenger seat when Minho drove, because he claimed he got carsick in the back, even though everyone knew that was a lie. You sat behind Minho, reaching forward occasionally to poke his cheek or fix the collar of his jacket. Jisung would watch in the mirror, lips pursed.
“You never fix my collar,” he complained one afternoon.
“You’re wearing a hoodie,” Minho said.
“So?”
“So there’s no collar.”
Jisung turned around to look at you with wounded eyes. “Do you see how he speaks to me?”
You leaned forward and gently adjusted the drawstrings of his hoodie instead. “There. Better?”
Jisung immediately melted back into his seat, smiling smugly. “Much better.”
Minho clicked his tongue, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
That was how it always went.
Jisung complained. You fussed. Minho pretended to be annoyed. Then, when Jisung wasn’t looking, Minho would do something stupidly tender, like pass him the first bite of food or tug his hood up because the wind was cold.
It was impossible not to love them together.
It was also impossible to go on a normal date.
You had tried.
Not because Jisung was rude about it or anything. He wasn’t. That was the thing people didn’t always get about him.
For all his dramatic whining and his tragic little sighs whenever Minho said he was busy, Jisung knew when to step back. He knew when a date was a date. A proper one. The kind where you dressed up, Minho booked a table somewhere nice, and Jisung sent exactly one text saying, Have fun, bring me dessert if you love me.
Which, obviously, Minho pretended to ignore.
And then brought him dessert anyway.
That was how it usually went.
Tonight had been one of those proper dates.
You had spent too long getting ready, changing your outfit twice before settling on something you knew Minho liked. Not because he was hard to impress — he really wasn’t, no matter how much he acted like he was — but because the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention still made your stomach do stupid little flips.
When he knocked on your door, you opened it before he could text you something annoying like hurry up, I’m ageing outside.
Minho stood there in a black coat, hair soft over his forehead, one hand tucked into his pocket.
For once, he didn’t immediately say something sarcastic.
His eyes moved over you, slow and obvious, and his mouth parted just slightly before he caught himself.
You leaned against the doorframe. “What?”
He blinked, then looked you right in the eye.
“You look gorgeous.”
There it was.
No mumbling. No pretending. No weird
dodge.
Just Minho, looking at you like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and deciding, apparently, that you deserved to hear it.
Your face warmed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His gaze dipped again, softer this time. “Really pretty.”
You tried to play it cool. You failed immediately.
“Careful,” you said, stepping out and locking the door behind you. “Compliment me too much and I might start thinking you like me.”
Minho took your hand before you could overthink it, lacing his fingers through yours. “Shit. That would be embarrassing.”
The date itself was perfect in that quiet, sort of way.
He complained about the lighting in the restaurant and then still took a picture of you because he said you looked too good not to. He told you not to order something spicy because you’d regret it, then swapped plates with you halfway through when you did, in fact, regret it. He reached across the table to wipe sauce from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, called you messy, and smiled when you kicked him lightly under the table.
It was romantic.
It was just yours.
No interruptions. No Jisung dramatically appearing.
Because Jisung wasn’t a dick.
He might be clingy. He might text Minho twenty-seven times in a row because he saw a cat that “looked similar” to him. He might act like being left alone for three hours was the same as being abandoned in the wilderness.
But he respected you.
He respected Minho.
He respected the relationship.
And maybe that was why you liked letting him into it so much.
By the time dinner was over, you and Minho were walking back to the car hand in hand, your shoulder tucked against his arm, the night air cold enough to make you shiver.
Minho noticed immediately.
Without a word, he unwound his scarf and looped it around your neck.
You smiled. “You’ll be cold.”
“I’m strong.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“You’re gorgeous. Be quiet.”
You laughed, tugging the scarf closer around yourself. “You can’t just say that whenever you want me to stop arguing.”
“It worked.”
“It did, actually.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and for a moment, everything was calm and warm and easy.
Then his phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Minho didn’t even check it at first.
You did.
Not the messages, just the name lighting up on his screen.
Han Jisung.
You snorted. “Your son is calling.”
“He’s older than a son.”
You snorted again. “Your other half is calling.”
The phone buzzed again.
Minho sighed like the weight of the world had personally chosen him. Then he answered, putting it on speaker before you could stop grinning.
“What?”
Jisung’s voice came through instantly. “Wow. Hello to you too, sunshine.”
“What do you want?”
“First of all, rude. Second of all, nothing. I’m just checking you’re alive.”
“You texted me nine times.”
“Because you didn’t answer.”
“I was on a date.”
“I know! That’s why I only texted nine times. I was being respectful.”
You covered your mouth, laughing silently.
Minho glanced at you, his expression flat, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “What happened?”
There was a pause.
Then Jisung said, quieter, “Nothing happened.”
Minho stopped walking.
You stopped too.
His voice changed, not by much, but enough that you heard it. Softer. More focused.
“Han.”
Jisung made a small noise. “Don’t do the scary voice.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad. I just…” Another pause. “I finished my schedule and everyone’s doing their own thing and I’m bored as fuck.”
You looked at Minho.
Minho looked at you.
You leaned closer to the phone. “Did you eat?”
Jisung gasped. “Oh my God, hi.”
“Hi, Sungie. Did you eat?”
“Define eat.”
Minho closed his eyes. “Han Jisung.”
“I had crisps.”
“That’s not dinner,” you said.
“It was a big bag.”
Minho was already pulling his keys from his pocket. “We’re picking you up.”
Jisung went silent.
Then, suspiciously soft, “You are?”
You glanced at Minho, raising your eyebrows.
He shrugged like this hadn’t been his decision before you even said anything.
“Our date’s finished,” you said. “And Minho owes you dessert.”
“I do not,” Minho said.
“You bought it already.”
Jisung made a delighted sound. “You bought me dessert?”
“No,” Minho said.
“He did,” you said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You asked the waiter to pack an extra slice of cheesecake.”
“That could be for me.”
“You don’t even like cheesecake that much.”
Jisung’s voice wobbled with pure, ridiculous emotion. “You got me cheesecake?”
Minho unlocked the car. “I’m hanging up.”
“Hyung.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
Minho froze for half a second.
You watched him carefully.
His face didn’t change much, but his ears went pink again.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Stay where you are.”
He hung up before Jisung could make it worse.
You slipped into the passenger seat this time, still wrapped in Minho’s scarf, still warm from dinner and his compliments and the easy weight of his hand in yours.
As soon as he started the car, you looked over at him.
He didn’t look back. “What?”
“You’re cute.”
“I’m driving. Don’t annoy me.”
“You got him cheesecake.”
“He’s annoying when he wants something sweet.”
“You love him.”
Minho’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
For a second, you wondered if you’d pushed too far.
Then he said, very quietly, “So do you.”
You smiled.
“Yeah,” you admitted. “I do.”
He glanced at you then, quick and careful.
Not jealous. Not uncomfortable.
Just checking.
You reached over and rested your hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I love you too, you know.”
Minho’s face softened immediately.
“I know,” he said.
Then, after a beat, “I love you.”
You grinned. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Awful. Nearly died.”
“You’re so brave.”
He smiled then, small but real, and took one hand off the wheel just long enough to lift your hand to his mouth and kiss your knuckles.
By the time you pulled up outside the studio, Jisung was already waiting near the entrance in an oversized hoodie, bouncing slightly on his heels from the cold.
The second he saw the car, his whole face lit up.
“Oh, he is so pleased with himself,” you said.
Minho sighed. “Don’t encourage him.”
“You say that like we aren’t literally here to pick him up and give him cake.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“He’s pathetic.”
Jisung opened the back door before you could answer and immediately leaned between the front seats. “I heard that.”
“Good,” Minho said.
Jisung ignored him completely and looked at you. “Hi, pretty.”
“Hi, princess.”
His smile turned smug instantly.
Minho groaned. “Don’t call him that. He gets worse.”
“I deserve nice things,” Jisung said, climbing into the back seat and shutting the door. “I have suffered.”
“You were alone for two hours,” Minho said.
“Exactly.”
You turned around in your seat and reached back to fix the hood slipping off Jisung’s head. His hair was messy underneath, fluffy and sticking up at the sides.
“You’re freezing,” you said.
“I know, I’ve been suffering out here.”
Minho reached for the heater without being asked.
Jisung noticed.
You noticed him noticing.
Minho noticed both of you noticing and immediately looked pissed off about being perceived.
“Don’t,” he warned.
Jisung pressed his lips together.
You did the same.
The silence lasted three seconds.
Then Jisung said, “You love me so bad.”
Minho put the car into drive. “I’m taking you back.”
“No, you’re not. You have cheesecake.”
“Had cheesecake.”
Jisung gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
You reached into the bag at your feet and pulled out the takeaway box. “He wouldn’t. He was very serious about making sure they packed it properly.”
Minho muttered something under his breath.
Jisung leaned forward, eyes shining. “Can I have it now?”
“No,” Minho said.
“Yes,” you said at the same time.
Jisung looked between you both. “Mum said yes.”
Minho’s head turned slowly.
You burst out laughing.
“Do not call her that,” he said.
Jisung looked between you both. “Your gorgeous date said yes.”
Minho’s head turned slowly. “Don’t flirt with my date.”
“I’m complimenting her.”
“That’s flirting.”
Jisung smiled around his fork. “You’re jealous.”
You reached back and gently pinched Jisung’s cheek. “Eat your cheesecake before he takes it back.”
Jisung immediately clutched the box closer. “He wouldn’t. He loves me too much.”
He took one bite and immediately slumped back against the seat, eyes closing. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Minho glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. “Seatbelt.”
Jisung, still chewing, blindly reached for it.
You watched Minho watching him.
That was the thing about dating Minho. People who didn’t know him properly always acted like he was hard to read, like his love had to be dug out from underneath layers of sarcasm and blank stares.
But you had never really seen it that way.
Minho loved in a way that was almost impossible to miss if you paid attention. He held your hand without thinking. He fixed Jisung’s hood when it slipped off his head. He kept his palm warm against the small of your back when you walked through busy places, guiding you gently without making a big deal out of it. He bought the cheesecake. He turned the heating up. He told you that you looked gorgeous and said it like he meant every single letter.
He could tease, obviously. He could be dry and blunt and annoying as hell when he wanted to be.
But cold?
Never.
Not with you.
Not with Jisung.
Not when he looked at the two of you like you were something soft he had been trusted to take care of.
By the time you got back to the dorm, Jisung had already eaten three bites of the cheesecake in the car despite Minho telling him to wait until you were all inside.
He had agreed, very seriously, and then opened the box the second Minho looked back at the road.
“You have no self-control,” Minho said, unlocking the door.
Jisung walked in first, cheesecake tucked protectively against his chest. “I have joy. You should try it sometime.”
“I bought you the cheesecake.”
“And that was very sexy of you.”
Minho paused in the doorway.
You nearly walked into his back.
Jisung turned around, blinking innocently. “What?”
“Don’t say that while holding a plastic fork,” Minho said.
“Why?”
“It ruins the effect.”
You laughed, slipping past Minho into the dorm. “So there was an effect?”
Minho looked at you, then down at your outfit again, the same way he’d been doing all night when he thought he was being subtle.
“There is when you do it,” he said.
Your face warmed immediately.
You took your coat off, still smiling, and before you could reach for the hook, Minho stepped behind you and lifted it gently from your shoulders.
His hands lingered for half a second.
“You really did look gorgeous tonight,” he said, quieter now.
You turned your head slightly, smiling at him over your shoulder. “You’ve told me that already.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me again?”
His mouth curved. “Problem?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He kissed your cheek before hanging your coat up, quick and casual enough to make your heart feel stupid.
When you glanced towards the living room, Jisung was already on the sofa, cheesecake balanced on his lap, fork held loosely in his hand.
He wasn’t saying anything.
Which was, honestly, how you knew something was up.
Usually, Jisung filled every room he was in. A little hum here, a comment there, some dramatic noise just to remind everyone he existed and deserved to be looked at. But now he was just sitting there, lips pushed into the smallest pout, poking at the corner of his cheesecake without actually eating it.
You softened immediately.
Minho noticed too.
His eyes flicked over Jisung’s face, and all the teasing left him at once.
You sat down beside Jisung, still smiling, and reached over to fix the hood of his jumper where it had bunched awkwardly behind his neck. “Poor Sungie.”
Jisung’s pout deepened, but he leaned into you almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for permission.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled.
“No, you’re not.” You reached up and pushed his hair back from his forehead, gentle with it. “You’re sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“You’re holding your fork sadly.”
His eyes dropped to the fork in his hand.
Then, very quietly, he said, “Maybe a little.”
Your chest went all warm and soft.
You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “Did you want some attention too?”
Jisung didn’t answer straight away.
He just leaned heavier into your hand, cheeks going pink.
That was answer enough.
Before you could say anything else, the sofa dipped on Jisung’s other side.
Minho sat beside him, close enough that their knees touched, and reached over to take the cheesecake box from his lap before it could slide off.
Jisung looked at him.
Minho looked back, expression gentle in a way that always made your heart ache a little.
“You went quiet,” he said softly.
Jisung shrugged, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of his hoodie. “Didn’t wanna interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting.”
“You were being cute.”
Minho’s face softened even more.
Then he reached up and tucked a messy piece of hair behind Jisung’s ear, his fingers lingering there.
“You’re allowed to want attention,” he said.
Jisung blinked.
The room went quiet for a second.
Not awkward. Just soft.
Then Jisung mumbled, “That’s embarrassing.”
Minho smiled a little. “You’re embarrassing.”
“Hyung.”
“Cute, though.”
Jisung’s head snapped up.
You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt.
Minho didn’t look away from him. He didn’t roll his eyes or pretend he hadn’t said it. He just looked at Jisung like he adored him because he did. Like Jisung being needy and pouty was something precious, not annoying.
Then Minho leaned in and kissed his forehead.
Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut immediately.
The pout disappeared from his face so quickly it was almost funny.
You leaned in too, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Jisung made a tiny sound, pleased and shy all at once, before hiding half his face behind his sleeve.
“You’re both so mean,” he mumbled.
You laughed softly. “We kissed you.”
“Exactly.”
Minho’s hand slid to the back of Jisung’s neck, thumb rubbing there gently. “Spoiled.”
Jisung peeked over his sleeve. “Loved.”
Minho’s smile was small, but so warm.
“Yeah,” he said. “Loved.”
Jisung went quiet again, but this time it wasn’t sulking.
You settled closer against his side, and Minho stayed right there on the other, sandwiching Jisung between you both until his shoulders finally relaxed.
After a moment, Jisung picked up his fork again and took a tiny bite of cheesecake.
“There he is,” Minho murmured.
Jisung leaned into him, still chewing. “Don’t talk about me like I’m a cat.”
Minho brushed his thumb once more against the nape of his neck. “Then stop acting like one.”
You reached over and wiped a bit of cheesecake from the corner of Jisung’s mouth with your thumb.
He smiled, completely shameless now.
“Can’t help it,” he said. “I like being taken care of.”
Minho looked at him, soft as anything.
“We know.”
Im tired of dominant/top han jisung propaganda because just because the reader is a WOMAN doesnt mean we're all subby bitches!! #han
pls do a part two of almost confession when they meat again 💔
Here to stay
Han jisung x f!reader
Synopsis: part 2 of this fic- part 1
A/n: im so sorry this took sooo long i honestly didn’t know what to write, i don’t normally write part 2’s of my angsty fics. But im so glad u requested this as it was so fun to write. Hope you enjoy my lovelies <33
Wc: 1,671
The whole journey back felt longer than it should have.
Every train announcement, every passing streetlight, every second she spent staring at her reflection in the window only gave her more time to think.
And thinking was dangerous.
What if he didn’t feel the same anymore?
What if the confession had only meant something in the moment?
What if, while she had been away trying to sort her life out, Jisung had realised she wasn’t worth waiting for?
She hated that thought most of all.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as the taxi pulled up near the dorm building. She didn’t text him. She couldn’t. The whole point was that it was meant to be a surprise.
But now that she was here, standing outside the place she had imagined returning to a hundred times, she felt frozen.
What if he opened the door and looked disappointed?
What if he didn’t open it at all?
She swallowed hard, lifted her hand, and knocked.
A few seconds passed.
Then the door opened.
Lee Know stood there in a hoodie, his expression unreadable for half a second before his eyes softened.
“You’re here,” he said.
She blinked, nerves making her voice small. “Hi.”
He stepped aside immediately. “Come in.”
Her chest tightened as she walked past him. The dorm felt the same, warm and familiar, but there was something quieter about it. Like the usual chaos had been turned down.
She slipped off her shoes by the door, gripping her bag with both hands.
“Does he know?” she asked.
Lee Know shook his head. “No. I didn’t tell him.”
“Oh.” Her stomach twisted. “Is he… okay?”
Lee Know looked at her for a moment, and that was enough to make her heart sink.
“He’s been better,” he said carefully.
Her throat went dry. “What do you mean?”
He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “He’s been acting like he’s fine. Which usually means he really isn’t.”
Guilt settled heavily in her chest.
“I didn’t mean to leave like that,” she whispered. “I mean, I had to, but… after he confessed, I just—everything happened so fast. I thought maybe he’d regret it. Or forget about it. Or find someone else.”
Lee Know gave her a look.
She frowned. “What?”
“You’re both idiots.”
Despite herself, a weak laugh escaped her.
“I’m serious,” he said, though his voice wasn’t harsh. “He hasn’t found someone else. He hasn’t even looked at anyone else. He barely talks about you because when he does, he gets this stupid look on his face and then goes quiet for the rest of the day.”
Her eyes burned.
Lee Know’s expression softened a little more.
“He missed you,” he said. “A lot.”
She looked down at the floor, blinking quickly. “I missed him too.”
“I know.” He nodded towards the hallway. “He’s in his room.”
Her heart started beating so loudly she was sure Lee Know could hear it.
“Does he want to see me?” she asked.
Lee Know’s face shifted into something almost fond.
“He always wants to see you.”
That was all it took.
She set her bag down near the sofa and walked towards the hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last. When she reached his door, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle.
For a moment, she remembered the last time she had seen him.
His nervous smile. His shaky voice. The way he had finally said the words he had almost said so many times before.
I like you.
No, I think I’m in love with you.
And then her own awful timing.
I’m leaving tomorrow morning.
She closed her eyes, breathed in, and knocked softly.
There was a pause.
Then his voice came from inside, tired and muffled.
“Minho-hyung, I said I’m fine.”
Her heart cracked a little.
“It’s not Minho.”
Silence.
Then hurried movement.
The door opened so quickly she barely had time to prepare herself.
Jisung stood there in an oversized shirt, his hair messy, eyes wide like he wasn’t sure she was real.
For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.
He just stared at her.
She tried to smile, but it trembled. “Hi, Ji.”
His lips parted, but no sound came out.
Then his expression changed.
Not happiness. Not at first.
Hurt.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
“You’re here,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “I’m here.”
His eyes searched her face like he was waiting for the catch. “For how long?”
The question landed between them heavier than anything else could have.
She stepped closer, her voice soft. “That’s what I came to tell you.”
He looked away, jaw tightening. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. You had to go. You have your own life. I shouldn’t have said anything before you left. It was selfish.”
“No.” She shook her head quickly. “Jisung, no.”
He let out a humourless laugh, looking down. “I spent so long trying to say it, and when I finally did, you left the next morning. Kind of feels like the universe was telling me to shut up.”
Her eyes filled instantly.
“I didn’t leave because of you.”
“I know,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he believed it.
She stepped into his room, gently pushing the door mostly closed behind her.
“I need you to listen to me,” she said.
He went still.
She took a shaky breath. “I was scared the entire way here. I kept thinking you’d moved on. That you’d realised it was just the moment, or that missing me was too much trouble, or that you’d found someone easier to love.”
His eyes snapped back to hers.
“Easier?” he repeated, almost offended. “You think I wanted easy?”
She swallowed.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated now, but not at her. “I didn’t want someone else. I wanted you. I still want you.”
Her heart stuttered.
“Even after everything?” she whispered.
His face softened, the hurt slipping into something rawer.
“Especially after everything.”
For a moment, she couldn’t move.
Then she reached for him.
He froze when her fingers brushed his sleeve, like he was afraid that if he moved too quickly, she’d disappear.
“I came back as soon as I could,” she said. “Not for a few days. Not just to visit.”
His brows pulled together.
She smiled through her tears.
“I’m here to stay.”
Jisung stared at her.
“What?”
“I’m staying,” she repeated, voice breaking slightly. “I sorted everything out. It took longer than I wanted, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you properly, but I’m not leaving tomorrow. I’m not leaving you again.”
For one breath, two, he didn’t react.
Then his face crumpled.
Not dramatically. Just enough for her to see all the hope he’d been forcing himself not to have.
“You’re serious?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m serious.”
He let out a shaky breath and laughed, but it sounded dangerously close to a sob. “You’re so mean.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You let me think I was hallucinating.” His voice wobbled as he stepped closer. “You walked in here looking like that and said ‘hi, Ji’ like I haven’t been miserable for a month.”
A watery laugh escaped her. “Lee Know told me.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m going to throw him out of a window.”
“He was worried about you.”
“I was not depressed,” Jisung muttered.
She raised an eyebrow.
He looked away. “Maybe a little.”
Her smile softened. “I missed you.”
That made him quiet.
All the teasing faded from his face.
“I missed you too,” he said. “So much.”
Then he pulled her into his arms.
She melted immediately, burying her face against his chest as his arms wrapped around her tightly. Not gentle, not careful, but desperate in a way that made her realise Lee Know had been right.
He really had missed her.
Jisung held her like he was afraid she might change her mind.
“I’m here,” she whispered.
His grip tightened. “Say it again.”
“I’m here.”
“Again.”
She smiled against him. “I’m here to stay.”
He exhaled, shaky and relieved, and pressed his face into her hair.
They stayed like that for a long time.
Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at him.
His eyes were still glossy.
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “You really still like me?”
Jisung gave her a look so soft it hurt.
“I don’t think ‘like’ is the right word anymore.”
Her breath caught.
He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I loved you when I couldn’t say it. I loved you when you left. I loved you every day you were gone.”
Her eyes fluttered shut.
“I love you too,” she whispered back.
The words had barely left her mouth before he kissed her.
It was soft at first, almost disbelieving, like he was asking if this was really okay. She answered by holding onto his shirt and kissing him back, and then he smiled against her mouth, small and shaky and full of relief.
When they pulled apart, he didn’t go far.
“Please don’t surprise me like that again,” he murmured.
She laughed quietly. “You didn’t like it?”
“I loved it.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I also think my soul left my body.”
From somewhere outside the door, Lee Know’s voice called, “Are you both done ‘making up’?”
Jisung groaned, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder.
She laughed properly this time, her arms wrapping around him again.
“No,” Jisung called back. “Go away.”
Lee Know replied, “Gladly. But dinner’s in ten.”
Jisung lifted his head and looked at her, still holding her like letting go wasn’t an option.
“You’re really staying?” he asked again, softer this time.
She smiled, reaching up to fix a messy strand of his hair.
“I’m really staying.”
His smile slowly returned, bright and real and so completely Jisung that it made every mile, every fear, every second of doubt worth it.
“Good,” he whispered.
Then he kissed her again.
I just want Leeknow to suck my pussy , Han can join into 🩷🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚 is that to much to ask for
honestly real
𝓓OUBLE TROUBLE tamer!minho x brats!jisung&&fem!reader ꣓𑣿ྀི when you and sungie are both testing minho's patience, you already know it won't end well ! (｡ﾉω＼｡) warnings. oral sex, sex, minho helps reader ride jisung, hyung kink, idk im too lazy to add more but mdni obviously. and yes i half assed the end coz i got tired. only the first 2-4 paragraphs r proofread help
"uughh, come onn! you're always the one picking the movie!" you whined, trying to steal the remote from jisung. "nuh-uh!" he huffed and pushed you away from him, gripping the remote in his hands like it was a matter of life or death.
minho sighed. it was supposed to be a calm, fun movie night with all three of you, but he was starting to regret agreeing to it, seeing you two fight over the remote like spoiled brats. you two were clearly testing his patience.
"hyunngg!!! stop her! she's trying to steal the remote from me!" jisung continued his attempts to push you away from him, but clearly it didn't work. you grabbed the remote from his hands, stood up and held it up like a trophy. "aha! see? now i-" your words got caught up in your throat when suddenly..
minho wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down onto his lap, stealing the remote. "shut up. do you two seriously have to be this loud for a remote?"
"h-huh?! oppa, what the hell?! give me that!" you whined, squirming in his lap in an attempt to escape and get the remote back. meanwhile, jisung laid on the floor and stared up at minho with puppy eyes, acting as if he was helpless and vulnerable and that remote was his only hope in life.
"hyung! it's not fair! not fair, not fair.. not fair.. notfairnotfairnotfairnotfairnotfair!!!!" he yelled, throwing a tantrum on the floor like a fucking loser. he grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it, kicking his legs up. oh my fucking god.
you were both squirming and begging for the remote, movie night and popcorn on the coffee table now forgotten. it wasn't until a loud smack echoed across the room.
minho's hand harshly landed on your thigh, pausing before doing it again. "brats. both of you. wasn't your last punishment enough? now you two start going against your word about behaving and throwing tantrums over a remote?"
"'m sorry, oppa.." you whined, feeling his hand slap your thigh again. "i think you both need another punishment."
"n-no! we can be good! promise!" jisung sat up from the floor, placing his hands on his knees and looking up at minho with doe eyes. "after that? i don't think i can trust you two anymore.. always making promises about behaving then going and throwing tantrums the next day.."
minho spoke softly, combing your hair with his fingers. a few seconds later, he pulled on your hair roughly. he pressed his chin against your shoulder and looked at you with a mock of empathy as you felt a pool of warmth in between your legs. "'s been a while since you've been eaten out, hasn't it, kitten?"
"y-yes!!" you quickly nodded, letting out a whimper as minho's hand gently started rubbing you through your panties. "color?"
"g-green.. green.. please, i'm sorry for being a brat.."
"come here, jisung." minho patted your thigh.
jisung crawled till he was right in between your legs, staring up at the two of you with doe eyes. minho teared your panties apart. "h-huh- hey!" you squirmed in his lap.
"i'll buy you a new one soon, bunny." minho grabbed your hips and held you in place. meanwhile, jisung was staring at your pussy as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. he quickly dove in, fucking you with his tongue without warning.
you gasped, holding onto his hair. he ate you out as if he hadn't eaten in days, sucking on your clit and slipping a finger inside of you. minho watched with a smirk on his face, holding you down so you wouldn't squirm around.
"n-nngh! s-sungie! 's too much..!" you whined, leaning your head back against minho's shoulder. jisung slipped in a second finger, his fat tongue licking the juices off of your clit. "a-aah..! i-i'm so close!"
minho suddenly pulled on jisung's hair, stopping him from eating you out. you both froze and stared at him in confusion. "h-hyung, please.." jisung begged.
"no," minho paused.
"how about we take this to the bedroom? wouldn't want to make a mess here, hm?" he added, pushing you off of his lap.
"h-hhaah... hyung.." jisung whined, his wrists tied together. you sat on top of him with minho guiding you. "need you to be a good girl and sit on sungie's dick, okay?"
"o-okay.." you mumbled, doing exactly as he said. jisungs hard dick slipped inside you easily, considering how wet you were. minho grabbed your hips and started guiding you again.
he bounced you on jisung's cock, watching the man whine and push his hips up. you gasped, feeling the hard material poke at your womb.
minho fucked you down onto jisung's cock—his grip on your hip was almost enough to leave a bruise. jisung continued to whine and beg, staring at your tits bouncing in front of his face. "m-mmph.. y/n.. gon' cum.."
hearing that, minho grinned and increased the speed. you moaned, grabbing jisung's face and pulling him into a deep kiss. he kissed you back, letting minho get hard as he watched you two make out in front of him.
he watched as jisung nutted deep inside of you, his cum leaking out when you got off of him.
"you two 'are gonna behave from now on, right?" minho glanced at you.
"mhmm.."
The almost confession
Han jisung x f!reader
Synopsis: After months of almost-confessions, Jisung finally tells you he loves you. But the happiness barely has time to settle before you confess you’re leaving the next morning, turning a long-awaited confession into an almost-goodbye.
Cw: mostly soft/fluffy angst, crying, separation anxiety, bittersweet ending
a/n: this idea has been in my notes app for agesss i’m so glad i finally wrote it
Wc: 3,408
Part 2
The studio is quiet except for the soft hum of the computer and the tiny crackle of his speakers. Outside, Seoul is asleep, but inside the room, Jisung is wide awake, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands.
You’re on the sofa behind him, half-buried under his oversized jacket because you complained about the air conditioning twenty minutes ago. He had acted like giving it to you was no big deal, but he hasn’t stopped glancing back at you since.
“You’re staring again,” you mumble, eyes still closed.
Jisung jolts like he’s been caught stealing.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I was checking if you were alive.”
“At three in the morning? Romantic.”
The word makes him freeze.
Only for a second.
Then he laughs too loudly and turns back to the screen, hiding the way his ears turn pink beneath his hair.
You sit up slowly, rubbing your tired eyes. “Play it again.”
“You’re falling asleep.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re drooling on my jacket.”
“I am not.”
“You are. It’s cute.”
This time, you’re the one who goes quiet.
Jisung realises what he said a second too late. His fingers hover uselessly over the keyboard. His heart is suddenly doing that awful thing again — the thing where it beats too fast around you, like it’s trying to escape his ribs and confess before he can stop it.
He turns around.
You’re looking at him, soft and sleepy and wrapped in his jacket like you belong there.
He thinks, Now.
He thinks, Just say it.
He thinks, I love you.
Instead, the studio door opens.
Chan pokes his head in. “You two still here?”
Jisung nearly falls off his chair.
You laugh.
And the moment disappears.
౨ৎ
He almost tells you again in the car after practice.
It’s raining lightly, little silver lines sliding down the windows as the city blurs past. Jisung is exhausted, his hair damp from sweat, his cheek pressed against the seatbelt as he tries very hard not to fall asleep on your shoulder.
He loses.
His head drops gently against you.
You don’t move.
For a while, neither of you says anything. You just let him rest there, warm and heavy and trusting.
Then his voice comes out small.
“You’re too nice to me.”
You look down. “That sounds like a complaint.”
“It is.” His eyes stay closed. “Makes it hard.”
“What does?”
He swallows.
Your shoulder rises beneath his cheek when you breathe in, and for some reason that tiny movement nearly ruins him.
“Makes it hard not to…” He stops.
“Not to what?”
His lashes flutter open. He tilts his head just enough to look at you, and the car lights pass over his face in soft flashes — gold, red, blue, gold again.
He looks scared.
Not of you.
Of losing you.
“Not to get used to it,” he says finally.
Your expression changes. Softens. Hurts.
“You can get used to me, Ji.”
His nickname in your voice almost finishes him.
He sits up slightly, hands twisting in the sleeves of his hoodie.
“I don’t want to get used to you if you’re not—”
The car jerks to a stop.
The manager calls from the front, “We’re here.”
Jisung closes his mouth.
You both get out into the rain pretending nothing happened.
But his hand brushes yours under the umbrella.
Neither of you pulls away.
౨ৎ
The thunderstorm is worse.
It shakes the windows of the dorm so hard that you flinch, even though you try to hide it. Jisung notices immediately, because Jisung always notices you.
“You okay?” he asks.
You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Totally. Love thinking the sky is breaking.”
He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Another crack of thunder rolls overhead.
You jump.
Without saying anything, he reaches for your hand.
It’s simple. Natural. Like he’s done it a thousand times, even though he hasn’t. His fingers lace through yours and squeeze gently.
“Better?” he asks.
You stare at your joined hands. “A little.”
“A little?” he repeats, offended. “I’m risking my reputation as a very cool, very fearless man here.”
“You screamed when the toaster popped yesterday.”
“I was caught off guard,” he says quickly, cheeks pink.
You laugh, and there it is again — that feeling in his chest. The ache and the warmth. The impossible want.
He likes making you laugh.
He likes when you steal his food.
He likes when you send him stupid pictures with no context.
He likes when you fall asleep in the studio and pretend you were “just resting your eyes”.
He likes when you say his name softly, like it belongs somewhere safe.
He likes you so much it doesn’t feel like liking anymore.
The lights flicker.
You shift closer without thinking, your shoulder pressing against his. Jisung looks down at your joined hands, then at you.
“You know,” he says quietly, “when I’m with you, I don’t feel so…”
You wait.
“So what?”
Alone.
Scared.
Like I have to be funny to be loved.
Like I’m only worth keeping when I’m useful.
He can’t say any of that.
Not yet.
So he says, “Tired.”
Your thumb moves gently over the back of his hand.
“Then rest with me.”
And he does.
He rests his head against yours while the storm throws itself against the windows. You don’t speak. You don’t need to. For ten minutes, the world is just rain, thunder, and your hand in his.
Then his phone starts ringing.
One call. Then another.
Practice schedule. Messages. Reality forcing its way back in.
You let go first.
Jisung feels the loss all the way down to his bones.
౨ৎ
The fourth time, he almost tells you because he’s too tired to stop himself.
It’s after midnight, after rehearsal, after interviews, after laughing until his cheeks hurt even though his whole body feels made of static. You find him sitting on the floor outside the practice room, knees pulled to his chest, hood up, eyes lowered.
“Ji?”
He looks up.
The smile he gives you is automatic. Tiny. Worn out.
“Hey.”
You crouch in front of him. “You disappeared.”
“I’m here.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
His smile fades.
You sit beside him without asking, shoulder to shoulder in the empty hallway. Then you reach into your bag and pull out a packet of his favourite sweets.
He stares at them.
“You carry those around?”
You shrug. “You get cranky when you’re hungry.”
“I do not.”
“Last time you skipped dinner, you sulked for twenty minutes.”
“It took my money.”
“It was unplugged.”
He laughs then. Really laughs. The sound is quiet and tired, but it’s real, and you look so pleased with yourself that he wants to cry.
“You always do that,” he says.
“What?”
“Make things lighter.”
You look away, suddenly shy. “You make things lighter too.”
“No.” His voice drops. “I hide things.”
The air changes.
You turn back to him.
Jisung is looking at the floor, thumb picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.
“I hide behind jokes. Behind songs. Behind being busy.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I keep thinking there’ll be a better time to say things, but then the time keeps passing, and I’m still just…”
He stops.
You wait for him, patient as ever.
That almost ruins him.
“Still just me,” he finishes quietly.
Your voice softens. “I like just you.”
His eyes lift to yours.
And there it is.
The moment.
No door opening.
No manager calling.
No thunder swallowing his courage.
No phone ringing at the worst possible second.
Just you.
Just him.
And every almost that came before this.
Jisung’s lips part, but for a second nothing comes out. His heart is beating so loudly he’s sure you must be able to hear it. He wipes his palms on his joggers, laughs once under his breath, and shakes his head.
“I had a plan,” he admits.
Your eyebrows lift. “A plan?”
“Yeah.” His ears go red. “I was going to be cool about this.”
“You?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“You are literally smiling.”
“I’m fond.”
His eyes soften.
Fond.
The word sits inside him like something warm.
“I was going to write you something,” he says. “Or play you a song. Or wait until we were somewhere nice, not on the floor outside a practice room with my hair looking like I lost a fight.”
“You look fine.”
“I look traumatised.”
“You look like you.”
His breath catches.
There it is again.
You keep saying things that make it impossible for him not to love you.
Jisung looks at you for a long second, then gives up pretending he can survive another almost.
“I love you.”
The words fall out quietly.
No song.
No joke.
No careful timing.
Just the truth.
You go completely still.
For one terrifying second, Jisung thinks he has ruined everything.
Then your face changes.
It crumples so softly it breaks his heart before he even understands why. Your eyes shine, your lips part, and you look at him like he has just handed you something precious and unbearable.
“Ji…”
“I know,” he rushes out, panic rising. “I know this is probably terrible timing, and I know I should have said it earlier, and I know I’m being weird right now, but I can’t keep almost saying it. I can’t keep swallowing it and pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
Your eyes fill.
He keeps going because if he stops, he’ll lose his nerve.
“I love you. I love you when you steal my hoodies and say you’re borrowing them even though I never get them back. I love you when you send me voice notes just to tell me the moon looks pretty. I love you when you fall asleep while I’m working and still say you’re keeping me company.”
His voice cracks.
“I love you when things are easy. I love you when everything is awful. I love you when I’m tired and scared and don’t know how to be anyone except this messy version of myself.”
You cover your mouth with your hand.
Jisung smiles sadly.
“And you don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know. At least once.”
Silence.
Then you move.
You reach for him so suddenly he freezes, and then your arms are around him, tight and desperate. His breath leaves him all at once. For a second, he doesn’t even hug you back, too stunned to understand that you’re holding him.
Then he folds into you.
His hands grip the back of your shirt. His face presses into your shoulder.
You smell like rain and fabric softener and the sweet drink you bought earlier but didn’t finish. You feel real. Warm. Here.
“I love you too,” you whisper.
Jisung stops breathing.
You pull back just enough to look at him.
Your cheeks are wet now.
“I love you too,” you say again, voice trembling. “I’ve loved you for so long.”
His face breaks open.
Not into a full smile. Not exactly.
Something smaller. Softer. More fragile.
“You do?”
You let out a watery laugh. “You’re not exactly easy to get over, Han Jisung.”
He laughs too, but it sounds like relief and heartbreak mixed together.
“I thought I was being subtle.”
“You once gave me your jacket and then watched me wear it for twenty minutes with the expression of someone seeing heaven.”
His ears turn pink. “That could have meant anything.”
“It meant you were in love with me.”
“Okay, yeah. Maybe.”
You laugh again, and he does too, both of you crying a little now, both of you smiling like idiots on the hallway floor.
For one small, glowing second, it feels like the universe has finally done something kind.
Jisung reaches up and brushes a tear from your cheek with his sleeve.
“You love me,” he says, like he’s testing the words.
You lean into his touch.
“I love you.”
His smile wobbles.
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Jisung.”
He closes his eyes.
The words settle inside him.
Then he opens them again, softer than before.
“Can I kiss you?”
Your answer is to move closer.
The kiss is gentle.
So gentle it hurts.
His hand cups your cheek like he’s afraid of holding too tightly, like this moment might bruise if he isn’t careful. You hold onto the front of his hoodie, keeping him there, keeping him close, kissing him like you’ve been waiting just as long as he has.
When you pull away, he follows without thinking.
You laugh against his mouth.
“Needy.”
“Years of emotional repression will do that to a person.”
You smile, but it fades too quickly.
Jisung notices.
Of course he notices.
His thumb is still resting against your cheek. “What?”
You look down.
Something cold slips into the space between you.
“Hey,” he whispers. “What is it?”
You don’t answer straight away.
And that is when he feels it.
The change.
The way your hands tighten in his hoodie. The way your breathing becomes uneven. The way you look at him like you want to stay in this moment forever because the next one is going to ruin it.
His smile disappears.
“Y/N?”
You close your eyes.
“I need to tell you something.”
His stomach drops.
He tries to make a joke. It’s instinct. Defence. Fear.
“If you’re secretly married, this is a very cruel time to mention it.”
You don’t laugh.
That scares him more.
Your voice is barely above a whisper.
“I’m leaving.”
For a second, he doesn’t understand.
The word is too small for what it does to him.
Leaving.
Leaving the hallway? Leaving the dorm? Leaving him sitting here with his heart wide open in his hands?
“What do you mean?” he asks.
You swallow.
“My flight got moved.”
The silence after that is awful.
Jisung stares at you.
Your eyes are still wet from when you told him you loved him.
Only now they look guilty.
“When?” he asks, even though some part of him already knows.
Your lips tremble.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Everything stops.
The hallway.
The rain outside.
The warmth of your hand still curled in his hoodie.
His own breathing.
Jisung slowly lets his hand fall from your cheek.
“Tomorrow,” he repeats.
You nod, tears spilling over again. “I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
The word comes out sharper than he means it to.
You flinch.
He sees it and immediately hates himself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean—”
“No.” You shake your head quickly. “No, you’re right. You’re allowed to be upset.”
He laughs once, empty and disbelieving.
“I just told you I love you.”
“I know.”
“And you told me you love me.”
“I know.”
“And now you’re telling me you’re leaving tomorrow?”
Your face crumples. “I didn’t know how to say it.”
Jisung stands because sitting there suddenly feels impossible. He turns away, hands going into his hair. For a second, he just breathes. Once. Twice. Badly.
Then he looks back at you.
“You let me confess.”
Your expression twists with pain.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you knew.”
“I knew.”
His eyes shine.
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
That breaks you.
You stand too, wiping at your face even though the tears keep coming.
“Because I wanted to hear it,” you admit, voice cracking. “Because I’m selfish, and I wanted one moment where it was real before I had to leave. I wanted to know what it felt like to have you love me out loud.”
Jisung’s anger collapses immediately.
There is no room for it.
Not when you’re looking at him like that.
Not when he understands too well.
Because hadn’t he done the same thing? Waited and waited and waited because saying it felt impossible, because keeping the almost alive was easier than risking the after?
He presses his palms against his eyes.
“God,” he whispers. “We’re so stupid.”
A tiny, broken laugh leaves you. “Yeah.”
“I had so many chances.”
“So did I.”
“In the studio.”
“In the car.”
“During the storm.”
“When you gave me your jacket.”
“When you fell asleep on my shoulder.”
“When you looked at me like that and I pretended not to notice.”
He looks at you.
“You noticed?”
You smile sadly. “I noticed everything.”
For some reason, that hurts most of all.
Jisung steps closer.
“So what now?”
You stare at him, helpless.
“I don’t know.”
His jaw tightens. He nods, looking down, trying to be brave and failing badly.
“Right.”
“Ji…”
“No, it’s okay.” He smiles, but it’s shaky and wrong. “It’s okay. You have to go. You have your life, and I have schedules, and we both know love doesn’t magically fix distance.”
You cry harder.
He immediately softens.
“Don’t do that,” he whispers.
“I can’t help it.”
“You’re making it really hard to be mature and emotionally impressive.”
A laugh escapes you through your tears.
There. He did it again.
Made it lighter, even when he was breaking.
You step closer. “I don’t want this to be goodbye.”
He looks at you for a long moment.
Then he reaches for your hand.
His fingers tremble around yours.
“It doesn’t have to be,” he says. “But it’s still going to hurt.”
You nod.
“I know.”
He looks at your joined hands.
For once, he doesn’t let go.
“Can I kiss you again?”
You answer before he finishes asking.
This kiss is different.
The first one was soft with relief.
This one aches.
This one knows there’s a suitcase waiting somewhere. A passport. A boarding pass. A morning neither of you can stop. This one tastes like salt and almosts and all the time you wasted being afraid.
Jisung holds your face in both hands.
You hold onto his wrists like you’re scared he’ll disappear first.
When you pull apart, your foreheads rest together.
His eyes stay closed.
“If I had known,” he whispers, “I would’ve told you sooner.”
You shake your head. “I think we both would’ve found another reason to wait.”
He lets out a broken little laugh. “Probably.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
His mouth trembles.
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re leaving.”
You close your eyes.
“I am leaving.”
The words hit him even though he already knew.
Jisung pulls you into his arms.
This time, he holds you tightly. No hesitation. No almost. His face tucks into your neck, and yours presses against his shoulder. You stand there in the empty hallway, wrapped around each other while the building hums quietly around you.
Everything feels normal and ruined at the same time.
He smells like laundry detergent and sweat and the sweets you gave him. His hoodie is soft under your fingers. His heartbeat is fast against yours.
You try to memorise all of it.
So does he.
Eventually, he whispers, “When do you have to be at the airport?”
“Early.”
“How early?”
“Too early.”
He nods against your shoulder.
“I’ll come.”
“You have practice.”
“I’ll come.”
“Jisung—”
“I’ll come,” he says again, voice shaking. “Don’t make me say goodbye here. Not in a hallway. Not after this.”
You pull back enough to see his face.
His eyes are red now, his cheeks damp, his expression trying so hard to be strong that it hurts to look at him.
“Okay,” you whisper.
He nods, swallowing hard.
“Okay.”
For a moment, neither of you moves.
Then, because he is Jisung, because he is heartbroken and terrified and still somehow himself, he says, “When you come back…”
You blink through tears. “When I come back?”
His cheeks turn pink despite everything.
“When you come back,” he says more firmly, “I’m confessing properly.”
A tiny smile pulls at your mouth. “You already confessed.”
“No,” he says quietly. “I want to do it right next time.”
“It was very you.”
“Exactly. I can do better.” He sniffles, then tries to look serious. “Flowers. A song. Maybe a candle.”
“You’re going to burn the dorm down.”
“One candle,” he argues. “Supervised.”
You laugh, and he looks so relieved to hear it that your chest aches.
“And I’ll cry,” he adds. “But in a cool way.”
“There’s a cool way to cry?”
“I’ll invent one.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
Your smile wobbles.
“I do.”
Jisung’s hand finds yours again.
This time, he doesn’t let go until he absolutely has to.
Wrong person, right love
Kim seungmin x f!reader
Synopsis: After years of quietly loving Seungmin from the sidelines, you finally realise that being his safest place is breaking your own heart. So you walk away - not because you stopped loving him, but because you needed to stop waiting. Months later, Seungmin returns with the confession you once dreamed of hearing, only to realise he learned to love you too late.
Cw: none! Just a little angsty
A/n: this is quite abit shorter than normal, im sorrryyy
Wc: 2,062
The first time you realised you loved Kim Seungmin, he was laughing at something that wasn’t even funny.
It was late, too late for either of you to still be awake, but neither of you had ever been very good at leaving each other alone. He was sitting on your kitchen counter, swinging his legs like he belonged there, like your home had always had a place carved out for him. His hoodie sleeves covered half his hands. His hair was messy from the rain outside. His cheeks were pink from the cold.
And when he laughed, soft and breathless, you remember thinking:
Oh.
Not dramatic. Not earth-shattering. Not like the films said it would be.
Just oh.
Like your heart had finally found the name it had been trying to say for years.
You never told him.
Maybe that was where everything went wrong.
Or maybe everything had already gone wrong long before that — in every almost, every lingering glance, every night he called you first but introduced you to everyone as his best friend. His safest place. His person.
Never the person.
Just… his.
And for a while, that had been enough.
Until it wasn’t.
“Are you listening?” Seungmin asks, nudging your shoe with his under the table.
You blink, pulled back into the café, into the soft clatter of mugs and rain tapping against the window beside you. He’s watching you with that familiar half-frown, the one he wears when he’s pretending not to be worried.
You hate that you know him so well.
You hate that he knows you just enough to notice when something is wrong, but never enough to understand that it has always been him.
“Yeah,” you lie, wrapping both hands around your cup. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”
“You’re always tired lately.”
There’s no accusation in his voice, only concern, and somehow that makes it worse.
You smile because it is easier than explaining. Easier than saying, I’m tired of being in love with someone who only reaches for me when he’s lonely. Easier than saying, I’m tired of being your almost.
Instead, you shrug. “Work’s been busy.”
Seungmin hums, unconvinced. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Your fingers tighten around the cup.
There it is.
The thing you both knew, but neither of you had said out loud.
You look out of the window, watching people hurry past beneath umbrellas, their shoulders brushing as they walk close enough to share warmth. “I haven’t.”
“You have.”
“Maybe you’re just not used to me having a life outside you.”
It comes out sharper than you mean it to.
Seungmin goes still.
For one awful second, you wish you could swallow the words back down. But then he looks at you — really looks at you — and something in his expression makes your chest ache.
Not anger.
Hurt.
Confusion.
Like he truly has no idea how long you’ve been breaking beside him.
“What does that mean?” he asks quietly.
You laugh once, but there is no humour in it. “Nothing.”
“No.” His voice is firmer now. “Don’t do that. Don’t say something like that and then act like it’s nothing.”
You finally meet his eyes.
Bad idea.
Seungmin has always had eyes that make you weak. Not because they are soft all the time — they are not. He is blunt and teasing and sometimes so emotionally constipated it makes you want to scream. But his eyes have always given him away.
And right now, they are begging you to stay exactly where you are.
Exactly where he left you.
“I can’t keep doing this,” you say.
The words are barely above a whisper, but they land between you like a dropped glass.
His brows draw together. “Doing what?”
You breathe in.
Your throat burns.
“Being yours when you’re not mine.”
Seungmin doesn’t move.
The café continues around you like your entire world hasn’t just cracked open. Someone laughs near the counter. A spoon clinks against ceramic. Rain streaks down the window in thin silver lines.
He says your name, so softly it almost ruins you.
You shake your head. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s the problem, Seungmin.” Your voice trembles, and you hate it. “You never knew. I was right there. For years, I was right there.”
His lips part, but no sound comes out.
You look down before you start crying in front of him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. You promised yourself that when this moment came, you would be calm. Dignified. Untouchable.
But loving Seungmin has always made a liar out of you.
You stand before your courage can leave you.
Seungmin rises too quickly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Don’t go.”
And God, you almost listen.
Because it is him.
Because it has always been him.
But that is exactly the problem.
For years, every part of you has bent towards him like a flower chasing sunlight, even when all it did was leave you cold. You have loved him through every mixed signal, every midnight call, every careless touch that meant everything to you and nothing to him.
You have loved him so quietly that he never had to notice.
And now, for the first time, you are tired of being quiet.
“I have to,” you say.
His face changes. “Why?”
The question almost makes you laugh.
Not because it is funny.
Because it hurts that he still has to ask.
You look at him one last time — at the boy who knows your coffee order, your favourite songs, the exact tone of your voice when you are about to cry. The boy who knows everything about you except the one thing you have been begging him to see.
“Because I can’t keep being your safest place when you’re the reason I don’t feel safe anymore.”
Seungmin freezes.
You see the words hit him. You see the confusion turn into something sharper, something closer to realisation.
But not close enough.
Still not enough.
He says your name, barely above a whisper.
You shake your head. “Please don’t.”
“If I did something—”
“You didn’t do anything,” you say, and your voice finally breaks. “That’s the problem. You never did anything. You never chose me. You never asked me to stay. You just kept leaving enough space for me to hope.”
Silence settles between you.
For once, Seungmin has nothing to say.
You wish that made it easier.
It doesn’t.
“I loved you,” you admit.
The past tense makes him flinch.
And maybe that is cruel, but it is also true. Or at least, it is what you need to become true if you are ever going to survive this.
His lips part. “Loved?”
You smile, small and sad. “Yeah.”
It is a lie.
Mostly.
But maybe healing starts with saying something enough times until your heart gets tired of arguing.
“I’m done waiting, Seungmin.”
He looks at you like you have just taken something from him.
Maybe you have.
Maybe, after years of handing him your heart without him ever asking for it, you are finally taking it back.
You pick up your coat.
This time, he does not stop you.
And this time, you do not turn around.
⸻
Months later
The first thing Seungmin notices is that you look lighter.
Not happier, exactly.
That would have been easier to hate.
No, you look peaceful.
Like the world has stopped hurting you in places he never knew existed.
He sees you outside the small bookshop you used to love, the one tucked between the florist and the bakery on the corner. You are holding a paper bag in one hand and a drink in the other, your hair moving gently in the wind. Someone beside you says something, and you laugh.
Really laugh.
Seungmin forgets how to breathe.
For months, he has imagined this moment.
He thought seeing you again would feel like relief. Like coming home after being lost for too long.
Instead, it feels like standing outside a house that no longer has a door for him.
You notice him a second later.
Your smile fades, but not completely.
That hurts more than he expects.
Because you do not look angry.
You do not look like someone still waiting for an apology.
You just look surprised.
“Seungmin,” you say softly.
His name sounds different in your mouth now.
Less like a prayer.
More like a memory.
“Hi,” he says.
It is pathetic. After all the things he has practised saying, that is what comes out.
Hi.
You glance at the person beside you, then back at him. “Can we have a minute?”
They nod, giving Seungmin a polite smile before stepping inside the bookshop.
He hates how easily they listen to you.
He hates that they know where to stand.
He hates that they seem to understand something he spent years missing.
You turn back to him. “How have you been?”
The question is gentle.
Too gentle.
“I miss you,” he says.
Your expression shifts.
Not enough for anyone else to notice, maybe.
But Seungmin notices.
He notices everything now.
Too late.
You look down at the cup in your hands. “Seungmin…”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I know I don’t have the right to say that.”
“You don’t.”
The words are not harsh.
That makes them worse.
He swallows, nodding once. “I know.”
A silence passes between you, filled with all the things he should have said months ago. Years ago.
“I didn’t understand it then,” he says. “When you left. I thought I was losing my best friend, and I was so angry because I didn’t know why it felt like more than that.”
Your eyes soften, but you do not move closer.
“I know now,” he continues, voice cracking. “I know what you were to me. What you always were.”
Your grip tightens around your drink.
His heart stumbles.
“I love you,” he says.
There.
The words are finally out.
The ones he should have given you when they still could have saved something.
For a moment, you say nothing.
And Seungmin lets himself hope.
Just for a second.
Then you close your eyes.
When you open them again, there are tears there, but they do not fall.
“I wanted that so badly once,” you whisper.
His chest aches.
“Once?”
You smile, and it is the saddest thing he has ever seen.
“I waited years for you to say that.”
“I know.”
“No,” you say gently. “I don’t think you do.”
He looks at you, helpless.
You take a breath, shaky but steady. “I loved you until loving you started feeling like losing myself. And then I had to learn how to stop.”
Seungmin shakes his head. “You don’t have to stop.”
“But I already did.”
The world goes quiet.
He hears people walking past. The soft bell of the bookshop door. The wind brushing through the street.
He hears everything except his own heart, because it feels like it has stopped.
“You moved on,” he says.
You look at him with so much tenderness that it almost breaks him.
“I had to.”
His eyes burn. “Is there really no chance?”
You are quiet for a long moment.
Then you say it.
The sentence that will live inside him forever.
“You only loved me when I stopped waiting for you to.”
Seungmin flinches.
Not because you are cruel.
Because you are right.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
You nod, blinking back tears. “I know.”
“I really do love you.”
Your smile trembles.
“I believe you.”
That hurts most of all.
Because you believe him.
And you are still leaving.
The bookshop door opens behind you. The person from before looks out, not interrupting, just checking. You turn slightly, and something in your face changes — softens in a way Seungmin remembers wanting for himself.
That is when he understands.
This is not a punishment.
You are not trying to hurt him.
You have simply built a life that no longer has space for the version of him who took too long to choose you.
“I hope you’re happy,” he says, even though it nearly kills him.
You look back at him.
“I’m trying to be.”
He nods.
There is nothing else to say.
So this time, Seungmin is the one who watches you walk away.
And for the first time, you do not look back.
