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“You can–ah–” Jisung’s hips kick up but Minho’s right hand is quick to pin him right back down, easily. “If I fall asleep, just keep going–”
Minho stops. Blinks. “Jisung.”
Jisung begs, albeit sleepily. “Pleasepleaseplease don’t stop. Hyung, please.”
“We’ve never talked about this.” He takes Jisung’s lower lip between his teeth and tugs, like doing so would drag to the surface any of Jisung's remaining consciousness and he’d hear how ridiculous he sounds for suggesting Minho fuck him while he sleeps. “We need to talk about this.”
Ridiculous, he repeats to himself, trying to conjure some rationale in a place where it should’ve been so, so abundant and intuitive.
Right?
Or: With the next leg of the tour coming up, Jisung is exhausted. Minho tells him to sleep, but Jisung has something else in mind.
Bookmarked by BluePineapple
15 Jul 2026
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“I’d recognize that vein anywhere.”
Jisung. Sexting a stranger. Slowly realizing the stranger is his emotionally unavailable, disgustingly hot roommate.
Bookmarked by BluePineapple
09 Jul 2026
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“I dare number seven…” Hyunjin pauses for dramatic effect before continuing. “to sit on number one’s lap for the rest of the game.”
Time stops.
Jisung’s stomach drops through the floor. His mouth goes bone dry. He stares down at the 7 on his chopstick like maybe, just maybe, if he looks hard enough, it’ll morph into literally any other number.
It doesn’t.
Then—
“I’m one.”
Minho’s voice cuts through the room and Jisung goes completely still.
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The newest hyper fixation seemed to be bats. Over the weekend the couple had watched a documentary, and Jisung hadn’t been able to shut up about them since. It was cute. But not what Minho was expecting them to talk about when the rapper finally lowered himself onto the dancer’s hard cock.
There were other, better, ways to help the man focus. To free him from the jumbled mess his beautiful mind could become when he had too much on his plate, or was merely unable to sort out his thoughts on his own. Jisung was a brilliant man. Talented in ways Minho couldn’t comprehend. And, sure, having him bounce in his lap while rambling about his newest fixation was probably a terrible coping mechanism, but if bat facts were the way to bring the man he loved peace of mind, then he would happily listen to them for the rest of their lives.
Or
Unable to unravel the jumbled mess of thoughts in his head, Jisung does the one thing he can always count on to clear his mind: Ramble endlesslessly while riding Minho’s thick thighs
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“You’re the first person I’ve been regularly bottoming for. And my cats have never seen me in that way. So what I think, Jisung, is that my cats don’t like you because they saw you, like.” Minho’s ears are about to melt off from how badly they’re burning. “Dominating me.”
The silence between them is deafening. Jisung’s jaw is slack, eyes blinking. He looks like he wants to laugh.
“Don’t laugh,” Minho threatens.
Because he’s a dick, Jisung immediately laughs.
Minho develops an addiction to bottoming for his new boyfriend at the cost of all three of his cat’s respect.