Archive of Our Own

Jisung gets home from class one day, exhausted and starving. He woke up late that morning, like he always does, too late to eat breakfast or pack a lunch. Too broke to buy anything the whole day after spending all his money on cheap weed and beer. 

He opens the front door expecting the usual silence of his house, but instead he’s met with muddled voices and something akin to… laughter? 

Fuck, that probably means his mom’s drunk again, laughing at some tv show that’s not even meant to be funny, just too drunk off her ass to realize the difference between comedy and true crime. 

He thought he had more time in the cycle. He knows how this usually goes. She drinks, she fucks up, she apologizes and gets “sober”, she does great and awesome and happy family yadda yadda yadda. Then about six months in, she drinks again and starts the whole thing over. 

But this time, it’s only been a month and a half? Maybe 2? Something must have triggered her spiral sooner. 

He makes sure to neatly place his shoes on the shoerack instead of leaving them on the floor, he doesn’t need another reason to piss her off. 

He groans as he walks to the living room, following the sounds of laughter that echo all the way to the front door. He hates when she turns the volume on the tv all the way up, and of course if he turns it down while she’s passed out, she somehow wakes up, screaming at him about how she’s not allowed to do anything in her own home, in the house that she pays for. 

In the house that has leaks in every room, cracks in the ceiling, and termite damage in the garage. The house that he helps pay for with the money that he makes from his multiple part time jobs and side gigs, but she can never seem to remember that part.

He gets to the living room, trying to school his face as he turns the corner, she doesn’t like when he grimaces or rolls his eyes. His mood affects her mood, and he’s not allowed to be upset because it makes her upset. Funny that she never seems to be happy when he’s happy, granted it doesn’t happen very often.

He steps into the room, confusion riddling his face when he sees it empty and the tv off. 

He hears the laughter again. 

He quietly shuffles down the short hallway, trailing the sound.

“Eomma?” He wouldn’t normally call out like this, but his confusion’s thrown him out of his routine. 

“In here, honey!” He hears her call from the kitchen. 

“Honey? What the fuck?” That couldn’t have been what she said. Even on her good days, she’s never called him that.

He walks into the kitchen to see his mom standing with two men, laughing and smiling. She’s trailing her hands up and down the older man’s arm as if she’s known him for years. 

She notices him walk in, and practically bounces on her heels, almost skipping over to him. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen her like this. If he’s ever seen her like this. 

“Honey! You’re home! I have people for you to meet!” She tugs at his arm as she brings him over to the strangers standing in their kitchen. 

“This is Jiyong.” She says, beaming for some reason. 

Jisung introduces himself politely, bows and shakes his hand lightly. Still no idea why the man is in his house. 

His mom turns to him slightly, “And this is Minho.” 

Jisung’s eyes freeze, trapped in a snow storm. His mouth falls open, practically drooling as she introduces him. The man is beautiful. He couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than him. 

“Your new step-brother.” 

His mom’s voice is slurred in his head as he tries to pull himself together. The blood rushes to and from his ears, getting whiplash from seeing the most beautiful he’s ever met to…

“My what?” He shakes his head, trying to drain the blood from his ears and his cock. He must have gone slightly insane for a second. Just lost in Minho because that couldn’t have been what she said. 

“Step-brother!” She shouts as she stands next to Jiyong, holding his arm with both hands. “I’m getting married!” She shoves her hand out in front of her, showing him a diamond ring bigger than he’s ever seen. Although, to be fair, he’s never actually seen one before.

His eyes shift between his mom and the man and the ring and Minho and all so fast that his head starts to spin. “Married?” 

She drops her hand harshly, the slapping sound on her thigh so loud it reverberates. “Yes, married. Aren’t you happy for me?”

“I just have no idea who this man is. I’ve never even met him before, but all of a sudden you’re getting married?” 

“Jisung, it’s my life. It’s my decision.” 

“Okay, sure. But I live here, too. How long have you even known him? Why didn’t we meet before you decided to get married?” It’s all hitting him at once. How much things will change if she gets married. Things aren’t perfect for them here, he knows that. But what if things get worse? What if this new man is horrible to her? What if he kicks him out? What if he leaves her and Jisung is the one left to pick up the pieces?

Jiyong steps forward, just slightly. “Look, this is a lot, I know. I haven’t known your mom too long, maybe 6 or 7 months. But I really love her. I think we can be happy together.” 

“Okay, how do I know that? I don’t know anything about you other than your name and now I’m supposed to what, call you Daddy?” 

“Actually, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” Jiyong chuckles lightly. “I promise I’ll try not to change too much around here. And I’m sure you and my son will get along great, too. Your mom tells me you go to the same college.” 

Jisung somehow actually forgot that Minho was here. He was blinded by his anger and the announcement of his dearly beloved mother’s betrothment. 

He turns to Minho. “We do?” 

Minho takes a step forward, as if he’s trying to diffuse the situation. “Yeah, I’ve actually seen you around a few times. I think we even had a class together last semester.” 

Jisung’s shocked, but not surprised he didn’t notice Minho. He’s beautiful, yes, but Jisung tends to keep his head down when he goes to school. He focuses on his studies and classwork, only really looking up when he needs to, like for group projects. He wants to make sure he graduates with good grades and on time so he can start working full time as soon as possible. 

Jisung is trying to think straight. But his thoughts are all twisting and looping around like a derailed rollercoaster. He turns back to Jiyong. “Look, you seem nice enough, but who’s gonna be the one to clean up the mess once you leave?” 

“Once I leave?” Jiyong sounds surprised. 

Jisung folds his arms, bringing his shoulders back, “She drinks, you know that, right?” 

Jiyong shakes his head, confused. “Wha–”

“And she yells and screams, throws things when she’s mad enough.” He has no idea what’s gotten into him. He feels like everything he’s been holding in is erupting out of him, a volcano of suppressed trauma bursts from his throat, spewing from his mouth unfiltered and raw. 

“Hey, that’s not–” Jiyong starts to say.

“Jisung, what the fuck?” His mom cuts him off. 

There she is, mommy dearest. He knew she wouldn’t be able to wear the mask for long. 

He’s always wondered what would happen if he didn’t let his fear control him, if he told her all the things he wanted to. And now that he’s started, he doesn’t want to shove it back down anymore. He’s tired of feeling suffocated by holding it all in. His chest already feels lighter, like he can breathe easier, just from letting out these few words. 

“Am I lying, mother?” His voice oozing sarcasm. 

“That’s right. I am your mother, so you–” She tries to hit back. 

“That’s funny because you’ve barely acted like it in the last 23 years.” 

She stumbles for just a second, as if she didn’t expect him to talk back. Because he never did. “I did everything I was supposed to! Sorry if I drink sometimes. I’m here taking care of a little shit like you all by myself, sue me if I need a break once in a while.” 

“Breaks, yes. Not whole bottles.” Jisung hears himself say. 

“You know what? I don’t care what you think. Because as long as Jiyong wants me, that’s all that matters. So, I’m getting married whether you like it or not.” She intertwines her hand around Jiyong’s arm. He brings a hand up, letting it rest on hers. 

Jisung locks his eyes on his mom, not letting her piercing gaze make him cower. “You’ve never cared about what I think so why would you start now?” He clearly says, then pushes past them, walking to his room and slamming the door. 

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

Jisung heads to the campus cafe after class, trying to think of anything other than his mom and what happened the other day. He knows his mom is dead set on getting married to the man she’s known less than a year, but he can’t help but think of a way to stop it. 

He pulls his sandwich out of his lunchbox, cringing at his flavorless lunch when someone sits down at his table. He’s not in the mood for company, he just wants to sit and stew in his anger and plot ways to get rid of Jiyong and…

“Minho?” Jisung says, wondering if he actually said that out loud, surprised by Minho sitting next to him. “Uh, ssi. Minho-ssi. Sorry. I was just thrown off.” 

“Hyung’s fine. I mean, we are gonna be brothers soon, apparently.” Minho smiles, nudging Jisung with his elbow.

“Fuck, can you please not remind me? There’s no way I’m letting that happen, by the way.” Jisung winces and looks at Minho, curling his shoulders in a bit. “No offense to you or your dad. Just, what I said about my mom is true, you know. She’s a fucking mess and I know I’m gonna have to clean it all up when everything goes to shit.” 

“I mean, who knows. Maybe it won’t go to shit.” Minho takes a bite of his bibimbap. 

It looks fresh, homemade. Jisung cringes even more at his bland sandwich, shoving it back into his lunchbox. “It will, trust me. This isn’t the first time she’s gotten caught up with a man this fast. I will admit it’s the first time she’s gotten engaged, though. But I assume it’s because no one’s ever been dumb enough to ask her.”

Jisung can’t quite interpret the expression on Minho’s face. It looks like something caught between pity, shock, and trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of here. “Uh, no offense to your dad, again, sorry.”

“I mean, look. It seems like you and mom have…” Minho looks at Jisung, who raises his eyebrows at him, daring him to find something good to say. “Differences. And I still don’t want to assume anything about her, but my dad really is a nice guy. He tends to go for people that need… help. It’s kinda why he likes your mom. Probably feels like he can fix her or whatever.” 

“There’s nothing he can do to fix her, trust me.” Jisung rolls his eyes. 

“You know her better obviously, so you’re probably right. But, you never know. Maybe my dad can make her happy.” Minho toys with his chopsticks, glancing down. 

He really does seem like he’s trying to help, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s saying the right things. But Jisung just doesn’t care. He can’t look past his rage to see the good in the situation. But he can push past it to see Minho. For just a second, he lets his fury dwindle. He had been so angry that he had actually forgotten how pretty Minho is. 

Fuck, so not only is Minho beautiful, but he’s nice? And understanding? Sweet? What kind of hell is this? It would make things a lot easier if he was an asshole, or if he just ignored him altogether, pretended like he didn’t exist. It would make it a lot easier for Jisung to hate him. 

“Look, if your dad is as nice as you say he is, then he really doesn’t deserve to get stuck with someone like my mom. She’ll drive him insane. Do you really want him to end up fucking crazy like me?” 

Minho smirks. “I don’t know. You don’t seem too bad.” He pushes his lunchbox towards Jisung as he stands. “Well, I gotta go, I have class. Wanna finish this for me?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer as he leaves. 

Jisung scrunches his eyebrows. “I don’t want your fucking leftovers.” He grumbles to himself as he picks up the chopsticks, making sure that Minho’s gone. He stuffs his mouth when he sees that the coast is clear and almost audibly moans at how good it is. “I swear to god, if he made this…” He mumbles as he stuffs his mouth again. 

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

Jisung finds himself feeling like some kind of hormonal angsty teenager ready to unleash his anger upon the world. He tries to do everything he can to piss off his mom. Especially when Jiyong is around. He wants to get her to show him her true self, so that he can see who he’s really agreeing to marry, who he’ll be spending the rest of his life with. 

He started off with little things, like leaving his shoes next to the rack instead of on it when he comes into the house. Then he made dinner, but didn't make her any. He bought groceries, but didn't buy everything on the list. He used all the hot water before her shower, he turned the volume down on the tv, left a dirty dish in the sink, listened to his music without headphones, and none of it worked. 

Every little thing that would normally set her off, she’s somehow pushed aside, acted like it didn’t bother her.

And that pisses Jisung off even more. He’s spent his entire life walking on eggshells, avoiding doing very typical everyday things that people do so that it wouldn’t send her into a fucking frenzy, and here she was, perfectly capable of letting these things slide all for the sake of a man she’s known for a whole 6 months. 

But not for Jisung. 

Not when he came home bloodied and bruised after getting jumped for wearing torn, worn out clothes to school. No, he was yelled at for not taking his shoes off when he came in, for dragging dirt in and accidentally smearing blood on her precious wall when he leaned on it from being too exhausted to hold himself up anymore. Every ‘Are you okay?’ was meant for her house instead of him.

He needed to do more. He needed to go further. He needed her to crack and he needed Jiyong to see it. 

He scrolls through the dating apps on his phone, only half paying attention as he matches with anyone he deems “not ugly.” He’s not here for any type of real connection, he’s here for his plan. Albeit, a kind of fucking crazy plan, but this is just where he is now.

He brings the first guy home and spreads himself open on the couch in the living room, taking his time. He stuffs three fingers into himself, sitting halfway up on his knees, back arched, facing away from the man he invited. Only turning his head back to watch him moan and fist his cock as he watches Jisung fuck himself. 

If nothing else will set his mom off, he knows this will. But her schedule has changed and hours varied and he can’t seem to keep track of her anymore. He needs her to catch him, but it’s turning out to be harder than he thought it would be.

So, he goes slow. He makes the man watch him fuck himself until he can’t hold on anymore, until he’s begging to be fucked in the living room out in the open, where anyone can see, where hopefully his mom and Jiyong will walk in and see. 

But they never do. 

The man fucks him so hard his toes curl and his vision goes white when he cums. 

He showers after the man leaves, then heads to the kitchen to see if he can scrape up enough food together to call it a meal. When he gets to the kitchen, he stops in his tracks. “Minho-hyung? What are you doing here?” 

Minho’s shuffling through grocery bags, putting items in the fridge and in the cupboards, not looking at Jisung yet as he talks. “Ah, hey, Jisung-ah. I guess we’re having dinner here tonight.” 

“So you brought groceries? Why not just order something?” 

Minho puts the last item in the fridge, then turns to Jisung. “I like to cook.” He shrugs. 

“Any chance you got any cheesecake in there?” Jisung pauses, then his jaw drops. “Wait, so you did make the bibimbap?” 

“Uh, no cheesecake, sorry. But yeah, I made it. Why? Did you like it?” 

“It was okay.” Jisung says, trying not to let the drool spill from his mouth as he remembers how every flavor bursted on his tongue. 

Minho’s lips curl into a smirk as he drags his eyes over Jisung. “Just okay, huh?” 

Jisung’s suddenly aware that he’s in just a towel. He didn’t get dressed after his shower. He prefers to dry naturally, so he’s lucky he even opted for the towel this time. Although, from the way Minho’s gaze trails down, maybe not so lucky. 

“Hey, eyes up here.” Jisung snaps his fingers. 

“Please, Jisung. You’re dripping all over the floor.” Minho tilts his chin toward the ground, water pooling in the grout lines of the tile. 

Jisung feels his face heat up, he shrinks in on himself, embarrassed.

Minho turns to the cabinets, pulling out a pot. “Well, go get dressed. We’re gonna eat soon and I’m sure you’ve had a busy day. Probably worked up an appetite.” 

His words sound pointed, but Jisung does not want to be wrong again. So he pads his bare feet carefully around the water on the floor, trying not to lose his balance or what’s left of his dignity. 

Dinner goes smoothly, to Jisung’s dismay. He doesn’t serve his mom, but serves everyone else. Ignores her when she talks to him, chews with his mouth open, and still, nothing. 

When they’re done eating, Minho grabs everyone’s dishes, “Jisung-ah, you wanna help me clean up?” 

Jisung shrugs as he starts to stand. 

“Oh, yes! Help him, Jisungie! Not having to clean would really help me out, I need to relax a little.” His mom sighs a breath of relief, leaning back into her chair. 

Jisung doesn’t look at her. “Relax, Eomma. I’m helping Minho-hyung, not you.”

His mom sits up again, a fiery look in her eyes. “You know you can keep your mouth shut sometimes, Ji–”

“Alright, thanks, Jisung, for the help. I really appreciate it.” Minho interrupts, taking the last dish from the table and nudging Jisung towards the kitchen. 

They stack the dishes in the sink as Minho grabs the soap and sponge. “You don’t really need to help, you know. You just looked like you needed a break.” 

“I can help.” Jisung pretends to pout. 

“Sure, but do you want to help?”

Jisung pretends to ponder, staring up at the ceiling. “Hmm. No.” He says as he hops up to sit on the counter next to Minho. 

“I know what you’re doing, you know?” Minho says.

“Sitting here, looking pretty? I know, I do it really well, huh?” Jisung twirls his fingers in his wavy hair, fluffed up and unbrushed. 

Minho keeps washing as he rakes his eyes over Jisung. “You kinda do, huh?”

Jisung gets so flustered that he blushes, actually blushes. He can physically feel how red his cheeks get. He didn’t expect Minho to play along with what he said. It throws his confidence for a second, watching Minho’s eyes trail over him. But when Minho finally turns back to the dishes, he notices he misses the feeling.

“I meant with your mom.”

Minho’s voice snaps him out of his head, “Huh?”

“Your mom.” He repeats. “I know you’re trying to piss her off. Make her like, break or whatever.” 

Jisung shrinks in on himself again, confused about how Minho seemed to pinpoint his plan so quickly. “How did–”

“You’re pretty obvious about it, honestly. My dad thinks you’re just trying to scare him off.” 

“Well, in a way. But it’s for his own good. Don’t you want your dad to know who he’s dealing with?” Jisung swings his feet from the counter. 

“Eh, kinda. It’s not really my business, honestly. I mean, he’s an adult. He can make his own decisions.”

“Yeah, but it affects you, too.” 

“Well, yeah. But I’m graduating this year and I already have a job lined up. I mean, like I said, my dad’s a really nice guy, but it can be kind of to a fault sometimes.” Minho puts the last dish on the rack, rinses his hands and turns off the water. 

“What do you mean?” Jisung asks, handing him a dish towel. 

Minho waves him off. “Let's leave the dishes to dry here.” 

“But my mom will get ma–”

“I know.” Minho smirks, turning to lean his back against the counter, his elbow resting close to Jisung’s knee. “Anyway, he can get too wrapped up in people. Always swears he sees the good in them when there really isn’t any there to see. It’s caused some problems for us before. So, I’d just rather keep my head down until I can get out, you know?” 

Jisung does know. It’s what he’s been aiming for his entire adult life. But now he just can’t seem to let everything go. It feels good, refreshing, to let himself lean into his anger. He feels like his mom deserves it, like he deserves it. 

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

“Fuck, yes. Keep going, ah, oh my god.” Jisung moans out, whining as he’s bent over the kitchen table. 

He tried to be patient with this one, to wait for his mom and Jiyong to catch him. But well, he also wanted to get fucked. And when the man pulled his cock out and stuffed it in his mouth, the way it hardly fit inside got him flushed and leaking all over the kitchen floor. 

He wants to piss off his mom, sure, but that won’t take away from the fact that he’s still a slutty size queen. Sue him. Patience has never been his strong suit anyway. 

The legs of the table drag and squeak across the floor as the man fucks into him. “You look so pretty in your little skirt like this.” The man tugs at the fabric, letting it go and snapping it against Jisung’s ass.

Jisung grips the sides of the table, his knuckles turning white. “Wore it -ah- for you. Harder, fuck me harder, please.”

The man pounds into him, pulling onto his skirt so tight the elastic of the waistband starts to burn on his skin. But Jisung doesn’t stop, he rocks his hips back and forth harder, deeper, until he’s crying out, spilling all over his lace panties and mini skirt. 

The man’s hips grow erratic, stuttering as he gets close, pulling at the seam of his skirt so hard it tears. The sound of the fabric ripping barely heard over Jisung’s moans. “Ah, fuck. I’m gonna cum.” 

Jisung arches his back, holding himself open as the man thrusts into him until he’s whining and overstimulated. 

The man holds the broken elastic in his hand, grip tight, using it as reins to pull himself in and out of Jisung’s hole until his cock throbs, emptying inside of him and filling him up.

Jisung catches his breath as the man pulls out. He reaches for his skirt, holding up the ripped material. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy or whatever.” He laughs lightly, still gasping for air. 

“What? What does that mean? I don’t get it.” The man asks dumbly as he pulls up his pants. 

“Just… it’s nothing. Here, I’ll walk you out.” 

He heads back to his room to change into something comfortable, surprised to hear shuffling down the hall. He grabs a small bat he had hidden, slowly following the noise. 

He hears a crashing sound and raises the bat to swing when he turns the corner. “Who the fuck–” He lowers the bat, stunned. “Minho-hyung. What are you doing here?” 

Minho smirks at him, not an ounce of fear on his face. “What were you even gonna do with that bat? It looks like it’s for a toddler.” 

“Little League, 4-6 Division, I’ll have you know.” 

Minho scrunches his eyes at him. 

“4 to 6 years old. And I only went for like three weeks ‘cause my mom kept forgetting me at practice and then showed up to my first game drunk, so I got kicked out.” Jisung says casually, like he’s talking about a regular Tuesday. “But anyway, this thing can do some damage, okay? So, what are you doing here anyway?” 

“Your mom told me I can start bringing my stuff over.” 

“Your stuff? Like, you’re moving in?” 

“Apparently we’re gonna be staying here until they find a house they like for the both of them. Supposedly one that’s big enough for all of us.” He says, smiling quaintly. “So, she said I can use the extra room until then.” 

“One big happy fucking family.” Jisung says sarcastically, swinging the tiny bat around. 

“That’s the plan.” 

“Maybe for them. I have a different plan.” Jisung sets the bat down. 

“Ah. So, you’re still doing that, huh?” 

“It’s gonna work, hyung. It’s foolproof. Trust me.”

“Of course, it will. How could I ever doubt you?”

“I don’t know, but our lives would be a lot better if you never doubted me again.” A shocked grin covers Jisung’s face as he reaches into a box, pulling out a stuffed animal. “And who do we have here?”

Minho grabs for the plushie. “Hey, give me that. That’s Mr. Whiskers.” He holds the plushie close to his chest. 

“Mr. Whiskers, huh?” Jisung raises an eyebrow at him. “But I don’t see any whiskers on him.” 

“So?"

“So, why is his name Mr. Whiskers if he doesn’t have any whiskers?” 

“Mr. Whiskers is his name. Your name is Han, and obviously you’re not big.” 

“Hey! I am not small!”

Minho stalks towards Jisung, crowding against him, looking down. 

Jisung shrinks in on himself, getting even smaller. “Okay, well… I’m not small everywhere.” 

Minho drags his eyes down, drawing his mouth into a pitiful frown. “Aw.” He tsks at him.

“You’re weirder than I thought.” 

“Good. Now get out of my room.”

“Don’t get used to it, hyung. That wedding is getting cancelled.” Jisung calls as he walks out of Minho’s room.

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

Jisung gets home from class completely drained. He’s had midterms and projects and papers and work and everything has seemed to be piling up on top of his plan. 

He toes off his shoes and heads straight for his room, his head empty, only thoughts of crashlanding on his bed until he wakes up so confused he doesn’t know if it’s day or night. 

But when he gets to his room to forget about the world, he’s thrown off by a nicely wrapped giftbox gently set in the middle of his bed. He creeps towards it, careful and slow, almost as if it’s a threat. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gotten a gift, or if he’s ever gotten one. 

He picks it up as if he’s expecting it to explode in his hands, holding it with just the tips of his fingers. He looks outside of his room, down the hall, listening to see if anyone else is home, but just hears silence and the crinkling of the wrapping paper shifting in his hands. 

He sets it back down on his bed, staring questioningly at it as if it might come alive and attack him. 

“It’s just a gift, you fucking weirdo. Just open it.” He tells himself as he sighs, dragging his hands down his face. 

His fingertips tug at the ribbon tied on top, pulling until it unravels completely. “Pretty.” He gently tears the paper, taking the top off slowly, still cautious, seeing tissue paper stuffed inside. 

He lifts it up, revealing a ball of fabric he can’t quite make out. He glances back at his door, still checking to see if anyone is there, to see an empty doorway and a silent hall. 

He picks up the gift, unfolding it to see a red and black plaid skirt. A small black ruffle at the bottom hem, and a thin chain hanging from the belt loops. “What the fuck?” 

A small note falls from between the folds of the fabric. 

Thought you might need a new one. 

For no reason. 

-Your favorite brother :) 

“Your favorite brother? Minho? What the fuck?” 

Jisung runs to the hallway again, checking that the coast is clear two, three more times. Then rushes back into his room, yanking off his pants so quick his feet turn inside out. He pulls the skirt up over his hips, zipping it up on the side, and admires himself in the full length mirror on his closet.

He swings his hips side to side, patting at his thighs, lifting and swirling the skirt as he softly spins. 

“I knew you’d like it.” 

Jisung jumps at the voice, almost biting his tongue as he curses at the scare. He swallows loudly, his breath shattered from his lungs. “Minho.” 

“You look pretty, Jisung-ah.” Minho taps his fingers on the doorframe, his eyes raking down Jisung’s body, pausing on his thighs and dragging slowly down his legs. 

“Th-thank you.” Jisung gulps. 

“I’ll see you for dinner.” Minho taps again, then leaves Jisung to swiftly spiral in his room alone. 

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

Minho still hasn’t mentioned the skirt, and Jisung hasn’t asked about it. Hasn’t asked what the note meant, or why Minho knew he needed a new one. 

And he doesn’t think he wants to know. 

He has a plan, and he needs to stay on track. If Minho saw Jisung getting fucked on the kitchen table so good he wanted to buy him a gift, well, that’s something for Minho to sort out. Jisung has a wedding to ruin. 

And guys to fuck. Or fuck him. 

This time, he decides to go bolder, bigger, louder. He changes his dating app bio to “looking for threesome no strings attached”. He’s hit with about a thousand matches and messages almost instantly.

He browses through everything, including the solicited dick pics, until he finds two guys he wants, explaining the details and inviting them over. 

He wastes no time when they get there, pulling them in and dragging them to his room, peeling their clothes off before they’ve even hit the mattress. 

“How do you want me?” The first guy asks. 

“Let me suck you off while he fucks me.” Jisung tips his chin to the other guy. 

They both nod at him as he lays on his back on the mattress, head hanging slightly off the edge. The first guy loosely strokes himself, his cock bouncing off Jisung’s cheeks as the second guy stuffs two fingers inside him, scissoring and opening him up.

Jisung’s cock twitches at the sight. One man above him, waiting to stick his cock down his throat and another man below him, waiting to fill his tight little hole. All on a regular weekday evening. It feels like a dream, and he’s wondering why he didn’t stop caring a long time ago. 

“Ready. ‘m ready. Fuck me, please.” 

The man above him slides his cock into Jisung’s mouth, his throat already warm and loose in anticipation, making the glide smooth. 

Down below, the second man pushes his cock in slowly. He takes his time, listening to the small whimpers and moans Jisung makes. “Such pretty noises from such a pretty whore.” 

Jisung’s thighs shake as the man toys with his nipples as he bottoms out, the man above massaging his throat as he fucks into it. 

His body goes limp, pliant as he gets wrecked from every angle. He falls into a state of complete bliss, unaware of his surroundings, lost in the pure pleasure of being used. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” Jisung hardly processes the warning before he feels warmth flowing into his throat, the taste of salt coating his tongue. 

He swallows down everything he’s given before being flipped to sit up on his knees, his back pressed against the other man’s chest as he fucks into him. The first man kneeling next to him, curling his fingers around his cock and stroking him in time. 

Jisung’s never felt this high. His whole body tingles as he gets closer to the edge, letting go completely, and covering the man’s fist in his cum. 

The second man bends him forward, face pressed into the mattress, ass in the air as he chases his own release. 

Jisung’s still coming down, his vision still blurry when he catches movement in the corner of his eye. 

This is it, he thinks. He’s finally getting caught. 

But it’s not his mom that’s caught him. Or Jiyong. 

No. It’s his soon-to-be step-brother. 

His really sweet, very nice guy, step-brother Minho. 

Standing in the doorway, his eyes blown wide, irises swallowed whole. He stays still, hardly a muscle moves, but Jisung doesn’t miss the way his eyebrows flit, or the way his lip struggles between his teeth. 

He watches his chest stop moving as the man cums in him, filling him up. His eyes follow it as it spills from his hole when he pulls out, trailing it as it dribbles down his thighs. 

His expression blank and face steeled, but Jisung sees the way the color of his ears shifts from a deep pink to a dark crimson. 

Jisung also sees the way the outline of his cock jumps in his gym shorts. Subtle, like he’s trying to hold it steady, but he’s losing himself. 

Jisung looks up at him, eyes shining and round, tears streaming down his face, cum still spilling out of him, to see him smiling at him. It’s soft, almost missable, but unmistakable. It looks knowing but unreadable. Something stuck in between calculating and fond.

And Jisung can’t help but think that there's a darker side to his sweet new step-brother, something twisted and unseen. 

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

The plan. He has a plan. Stick to the plan. No distractions. 

Well.

No.

Unless?

Maybe he can use Minho for his plan while also getting to watch him unravel. Jisung knows there’s more to him than just being a nice guy. He can sense it in his… well, mostly his cock honestly, but still.

He can’t stop thinking about his little bunny teeth gnawing on his lip as he watched him get destroyed by two strangers, two men he still doesn’t even know the names of. Doesn’t wanna know, doesn’t care. 

He has a plan. He has a wedding to ruin. 

And guys to fuck. 

And Minho can be one of them. 

What better way to piss off your mom than by fucking your new brother?

Right?

 “Fuck me.” Jisung drops his pathetic lunchbag on the table Minho’s sitting at in the cafeteria. 

“No hi, hello, how are you?” 

Jisung rolls his eyes, cramming into the seat next to him. “Hi, hello, how are you? Fuck me.”

“Is this part of your plan?”

“Yes, and what better way to piss off my mom than for her to catch my new, sweet older brother plowing me into the mattress?” Jisung bats his lashes at him, his eyes twinkling. 

Minho looks at him, head tilting, eyes slit and a crooked smile covering his face and Jisung knows he’s got him hooked. He reaches for his knee, squeezing a bit, then slowly starts to trail his hand up his thigh. 

Minho’s eyes darken as he grabs for Jisung’s hand, the pressure of his grip almost blinding, then moves his hand back to his own knee. “No.”

“What the fuck? Why not? I know you want to. I saw the way you were looking at me while those guys fucked me. You were drooling all over yourself. And I don’t mean from your mouth.” 

“Well, yes, Jisung. I was watching a live sex show. Of course, I was turned on.” 

“So, you don’t wanna fuck me?” 

“No.” 

“Well, will you do it anyway?” Jisung pouts.

“What the fuck?”

“Come on, it’s for the plot.” 

“The plot?”

Jisung arches an eyebrow at him.

“Right, the plan.” Minho opens his backpack, taking out a full lunchbox and slides it over to Jisung. “Well, sorry. Guess you’ll have to find a new plot point in your weird story arc.”

“Whatever, Bottom Fingers.” Jisung rolls his eyes.

“What is… did you just call me ‘Bottom Fingers’? What does that even mean?”

Jisung wraps his hand around Minho’s wrist, lifting his hand to his face. “See these? Tiny fingers. You’re not opening anyone up with those. Hence, Bottom Fingers.” 

Minho turns his hand over, flipping Jisung off. “Hey, I bottom if I wanna bottom.” 

Jisung’s throat goes dry. “Do… do you actually bottom?”

“Eh, sometimes. I mostly top, though.” Minho shrugs, nudging the lunchbox closer to Jisung. 

Jisung snaps himself out of it. “What is this?” 

“I think it’s food, Jisung.” Minho answers like he’s talking to a curious toddler. 

“I know what it is! I mean, why do you keep giving me food?” Jisung complains, but opens the lunchbox anyway. 

“Hey, I can let you keep bringing your sad brown bag lunches if you want.” Minho pokes the hardly eaten, underfilled sandwich in front of Jisung.

Jisung’s eyes fall as he huffs a dry laugh, but stays silent. 

“You need to eat, Jisung-ah. And I like to cook. It’s not a big deal.”

“So, you’re already making this stuff for yourself anyway, then?” 

“Yep.” Minho stuffs his mouth with food.

The light slowly comes back to Jisung’s eyes. “And here I thought you were making it especially for me.” Jisung opens the container, to see it filled with rice, kimbap, kimchi, all homemade. And in the top corner are small squares of cheesecake bites. 

Jisung looks over at Minho’s lunch to see no cheesecake bites in sight. Not only that, but his whole lunch looks completely different. “Making it for yourself anyway, huh?”

“Making it for myself, Jisung.” Minho hooks his ankle around Jisung’s. 

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

Minho is fucking infuriating. Who just does things like making someone special lunches just to be nice? Who does things like buying someone a gift just to be nice? 

But he still won’t fuck him?

Jisung hates not getting what he wants. Even more so lately now that he’s let go, now that he’s leaning into his anger. He saw the way Minho looked at him. He can’t be wrong, can he? 

He tries not to let it get to him. He’s told himself countless times he doesn’t need distractions, so this is probably a good thing. 

He doesn’t need Perfect Boy Minho trying to foil his plans and he’s been so busy lately that it’s been way too long since he’s had anyone over to fill his holes.

This time when he scrolls through his dating apps, he takes his time before messaging someone. For no reason other than he’s feeling particularly picky today and wants to be fucked by someone pretty. He gets himself dolled up and pouty and sends a selfie with his little cock poking through his panties, making his best doe eyes for the camera. He waits for the guy to send a dick pic back before inviting him over. He wants to be put through the mattress by a pretty, well hung man today. For no reason. 

And when Jisung tells the man to come over at 4 after seeing a picture of his monster cock, it’s just a coincidence that that’s the time that Minho usually gets home. It’s literally for no reason.

Jisung puts on his best performance, pulling whimpers from the man as he takes his entire cock down his throat without so much as flinching. 

He doesn’t even have to play up his own moans when the man shoves his tongue in and out of his tight hole. But he might make his voice a little breathier, the moans a little whinier. 

And when the man bends him over on the couch and pushes his cock inside, he might adjust his volume just a bit. But when he hits the spot inside of him, he lets himself scream, unfiltered and echoing as he hears the front door open and shut. 

“Fuck. Yes, right there. Don’t stop.” He begs, pushing his hips back onto his cock. 

He looks over at the entryway, watching Minho lean against the wall, amusement scrubbed from his face. 

The man looks up at Jisung, then over at Minho, but doesn’t stop fucking him. “Who the fuck is that?” 

“Ugh, that’s just my brother.” 

“Is he just gonna stand there and watch us?” 

“Apparently.” Jisung leans back, pressing his back flushed to the man’s chest. 

“He can join if he wants. I’ve never fucked brothers before.” 

“Ah, fuck. He… he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t wanna fuck me.” Jisung looks over at Minho, making his eyes pouty and soft. “Right, big brother?”

Minho doesn’t answer. He keeps his eyes focused on Jisung. On the way his body moves against the stranger while he fills him full of his cum, the way his eyebrows flit when he starts stroking himself. 

Jisung’s body is on fire under his gaze, heavy and unrelenting. He stares back at him, watching his fingers twitch and dig into his folded arms as Jisung’s cum covers the couch. 

Minho finally moves, walking towards them, stalking, calculating. Jisung’s heart thrums in his chest as he watches him get closer. 

Minho swipes two fingers through his cum, pressing them against Jisung’s lips. 

He opens his mouth obediently and silent, without question. He trails his tongue along the digits, sucking them clean until Minho removes them with a pop. “Clean up your mess, Jisung.” He eyes the other man, then walks away. 

“Fuck, that was hot. Can I fuck your brother next?” 

“What? No, get the fuck out of here.” Jisung tosses the man’s clothes at him, scrambling to get dressed. 

He slams the door shut on the stranger and hurries over to Minho’s room. “What the fuck was that?” 

Minho doesn’t look at him as he takes his things out of his backpack, setting himself up on his desk. “What was what?” He asks, casually.

“When are you gonna stop playing these little games and just fuck me?” 

“I’m not gonna fuck you, Jisung.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t wanna be a pawn in your weird, little game with your mom.” 

“Yeah, or maybe you’re embarrassed because you’re bad at it. Maybe your dick is fucking tiny.”

Minho huffs a dry laugh, smirking. “I’m not embarrassed.” 

“Oh, really? You think you can fuck me better than the other guys? I mean, you watched me get every hole filled at once. How are you gonna fuck me better than Skirt Guy?”

“Skirt Guy?”

Minho still doesn’t look up at him and Jisung wants to throw his fucking laptop against the wall. “Yes, Skirt Guy. He fucked me so hard he literally ripped my skirt off me.” 

“Oh, I know he did. You don’t even know their names, do you?” 

“I don’t need to know their names. I’m just here to get fucked and to get your dad to cancel the wedding.”

Minho sits in his desk chair, opening his laptop. “Right. Well, it’s not a competition. It’s not about whether or not I’d fuck you better than they do.”

“Then what is it about? Because I know you’re not good at it. You’re too nice, nice guys can never fuck.”

“I don’t know about how nice I am. I mean, I’m not a self proclaimed nice guy, but I don’t think I’m a bad guy.” Minho starts typing on his computer.

The sounds of the clacking of his keyboard makes Jisung want to scream. “Okay, so prove it. Fuck me. Show me how nice you aren’t.”

Minho scoffs as his fingers hit the keyboard harder. Almost aggressive, as if he knows how much it’s driving Jisung crazy. “You don’t deserve it.”

Jisung drops a hand over Minho’s to finally quiet the fucking keyboard. “Yes, I do.” 

Minho finally looks at him and stands, towering over him despite the small height difference. “You do what?” 

Jisung cowers immediately, withdrawing into himself. “D-deserve it?” He says like a question.

“Do you?” 

Jisung’s feet back up slowly as Minho cramming him against the wall. “Y-yes.” 

“You don’t sound too sure of yourself. What happened, Jisung? You were so cocky before.” 

Jisung stands taller, bringing his shoulders back and clearing his throat. “I do. I deserve it.” 

Minho arches an eyebrow at him, waiting.

Jisung swallows down whatever pride he has left as he mumbles under his breath. “Please.”

“Hm, I could’ve sworn you said something, but I couldn’t hear you. Guess I was wrong.” Minho tuts as he turns to walk away. 

“Please.” Jisung says bolder, louder.

“Please who?” Minho asks over his shoulder.

“You’re fucking annoying, you know that? Maybe I was wrong, maybe you’re not actually a nice guy.”

“Okay.” Minho says, casually, heading towards the door. 

“Hyung.” Jisung says clearly, hanging his head. “Please, hyung. Fuck.” 

Minho finally stops, turning back around and walking towards Jisung. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Jisung grits his teeth. “Will you just fuck me now?”

Minho leans in, his breath hot against Jisung’s lips. Then pulls back. “No.” 

“What the fuck? After all that?”

“After all what, Jisung? We’ve just gotten started.” Minho smirks at him, a glint in his eyes.

“Why? What am I waiting for? Just fuck me now.” 

“Doesn’t food taste better when you eat after you’ve been starved?”

“I’m not starving. I’m not gonna wait around for you to fuck me. I have other guys to help me with my plan. You were just gonna be a bonus.” 

“Okay, then I’m not gonna fuck you.” 

“Why not? Are you jealous?” Jisung pushes, his cocky grin back on his face.

“Yes.” Minho states.

“O-oh.” Jisung mumbles, thrown off balance.

“Look at you, Jisung.” Minho steps towards him, tipping his chin with his finger. “You really think I’m gonna let anyone else fuck you?” 

Jisung swallows harshly. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

Minho leans into him, his face so close he can feel his warm breath against the shell of his ear. “No. I can’t. But I’m not gonna fuck you if you’re letting anyone else touch you.” 

Jisung can hear his heart pounding in his chest and Minho’s so close he’s sure he can hear it too. 

Minho draws his head back, his feline eyes glaring at him. “Your decision.” He says as he backs away, heading to the door. 

“Wait.” Jisung says, his voice so raspy he’s not convinced it’s his own.

Minho stops, his shoulder leaning on the doorway. “Hm?”

“I’ll do it.” 

“Do what, Jisung?” 

“I…” Jisung’s chest heaves, his breathing rampant. 

“I need you to say it, Jisung. So, I know we’re on the same page.” 

“I won’t let anyone else fuck me.” 

Minho stalks forward, his eyes slanted and glowering. He runs his finger along Jisung’s bottom lip, plump and quivering under his touch. “I know you won’t.” 

“So, will you fuck me now, hyung? Please?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jisung deflates. His whole demeanor changes in an instant into someone he doesn’t recognize. Someone delicate, vulnerable. “Do you not… not… want me?” 

Minho softens at that, too. Like he hadn’t expected Jisung to say that. “Sung, do you really have to ask that? Of course, I do.”

“Do you think I’m a whore?” Jisung’s voice is fragile. He doesn’t know why he feels so small all of a sudden, begging for approval. 

“Jisung.” Minho thumbs softly at his cheek. “I’ve watched you get plowed by like, ten different guys.” 

Jisung blinks, his eyes starting to shake. He can feel his lip starting to wobble. He tries to hide it, tucking his chin into his chest. “Oh, ok–”

“But I don’t care about any of that.” 

Jisung blinks again, his vision flashing.

“I get what you’re trying to do, okay? I believe you about your mom. But this is still a weird situation, and I don’t wanna see you get hurt… so, I’m just not sure it’s a good idea, you know? I really do have to think about it.” 

“O-okay, hyung.” 

Jisung gets to his room and crawls into his bed. He pulls his knees up to chest as he shrinks into himself wondering what the fuck just happened. 

Why did he fall so frail in front of him? He had felt so naked and exposed, but safe and protected. He’s never let anyone see him like that. A part of him wanted to crawl back into his cave and hide deeper inside, but another part of him felt so relieved. Like finally letting pressure out of a balloon that’s been overfilled and ready to pop. 

He’s never begged for anyone before. The sheer thought of even the option of rejection was too crushing. So, why did he crumble so easily around Minho?

He spends the night harping on what he should’ve done differently and how he managed to lose the little game they were playing. Trying to figure out where he goes from here. So, he does what Jisung does best. He shoves it all down and pretends like nothing happened. 

A Han family specialty. 

And apparently Minho does the same. 

They sit close during movie nights, enveloped in each other’s laughter and ridiculous commentaries, but Minho’s always the first to pull back. 

He makes him homemade lunches and snacks, stuffing them in his backpack without him knowing, then sits across from him at the table instead of next to him as they eat. 

Weeks go by and everything stays the same. The soft touches, the subtle glances, all fueled and smothered by Minho. 

So, Jisung gives up. It was just a game, he thinks. Some weird game of cat and mouse that he lost. Just some heated back and forth tension that they both got caught up in. He gets it, he does. The tension is fun, but he has a plan. And he’s running out of time. 

So, he unlocks his phone and invites the first guy he matches with over. He doesn’t care about them being pretty or well hung, he just needs the warmth of a body, any body. And the chance to have his mom catch him.

He spreads himself open on the living room rug as the man watches, stroking himself in uncoordinated jerks and drooling all over himself already.

It’s fine, not every fuck is gonna be good. He’s just a game piece on the playboard, anyway. 

The man lines himself up, tip about to press in when a voice rips through the air, calm, but heavy.

“Jisung.” 

He looks to the voice. “Oh, hey, hyung. I didn’t know you were home.” 

“Out. Now.” 

Jisung’s chest caves. “What? Why?” 

The man freezes, withdrawing and already looking for his clothes. “Is… is this your boyfriend?”

“No. It’s not. He’s no one.” Jisung’s voice turns callous, blistering in his throat. 

“I don’t wanna get involved.” The man practically crawls away, running outside before he’s even fully dressed. 

Minho slams the door behind him, his hands balled into fists as he goes to his room. 

Jisung throws on his pants, running after him. His voice loud and spilling over with anger. “What the fuck, hyung?”

“Who the fuck was that? Why was he here?” 

“I don’t know, it doesn’t matter who he was. And you know why he was here.”

“For your plan?”

“Yes, for my plan. That is still happening. Now I have to find someone else to come over.” Jisung pulls out his phone, opening one of his many dating apps. 

“No, you don’t, what the fuck?” Minho reaches for Jisung’s phone, tossing it on the bed.

“Yes, I do. Unless you’re gonna help me. Are you gonna fuck me, hyung?”

“No.” 

“So, what was that whole spiel about not letting anyone else fuck me, then? Why kick him out? Why take my fucking phone? Why make me say all those things if you’re not even gonna fuck me yourself?” Jisung’s voice feels like fire in his chest, bubbling up and spewing out words he doesn’t understand.

He shouldn’t care this much. He shouldn’t care at all. This was just supposed to be part of the plan.

“Because I’m selfish.” 

“What?” Jisung’s eyelids flutter in confusion. Minho is just supposed to be a part of the plan. 

“It’s true. I know we shouldn’t be doing this, but I just didn’t wanna see anyone else touching you. I’m selfish, okay?” 

This doesn’t feel like part of the plan. “Can you…” Jisung tries to clear his throat. “Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?” Minho’s voice sounds ragged. Like every ounce of water in his body has run dry.

“Say things so bluntly. So straightforward.” Things that aren’t part of his plan. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know how else to be around you. It’s like around everyone else I have to try to be more like myself. I have to force myself to think of things to say to them or try to be comfortable around them. But with you it’s like I have to be less like myself.”

Minho was just supposed to be a bonus. “Why don’t you wanna be yourself around me?” A way to speed things along. 

“Because being myself makes me say stupid things.” 

His plan is crumbling.“What kind of stupid things?” 

“Stupid. Inappropriate.” Minho falls to sit on the edge of his bed. His voice sounds tired, his hands look defeated.

And Jisung caves. He steps forward, his heart thrumming in his chest. He curls his trembling fingers around Minho’s chin. “Just tell me.” 

Minho’s feet shuffle outward, his thighs opening almost instinctively for Jisung. “Like… like I need you.” 

Jisung crawls into Minho’s lap, his fingers resting under his chin, thumb caressing his bottom lip. “Then take me.” Minho is not part of the plan. And he’s not sure he ever was. Because he’s more than that. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Jisung.” 

“Why not?” Jisung lightly runs his fingers over the bulge forming in Minho’s pants. “Looks like you wanna be doing this.” 

“Because… because we’re gonna be brothers soon.” 

“I thought you were trying to convince me not to wanna do this.” Jisung presses his lips against Minho’s jaw.

“You… that makes you wanna do this more?” 

“Doesn’t that sound hot to you? You being wrist deep in me while getting called for dinner.” Jisung shifts in his lap. “You having to call out ‘Be right there, Eomma!’ while you push your fingers in and out of my cute, little hole?” 

“Jisung. Fuck. That’s…” 

“I know you want it too, Minho. It’s okay.” Jisung presses his hips into Minho, letting them relax, their clothed cocks flushed and straining against each other.

“Is that what my little brother wants then?” Minho pushes the loose hair from Jisung’s face, tucking it behind his ear. 

Jisung shivers in his lap, visible and strong. 

Minho rolls his hips up. “Yeah? You want your big brother to fuck you, Jisung? Hold you down, make you take what I give you?” 

Jisung goes boneless, his breath shaky and hot. “Please, Minho. Force me down, make me take it, please.” 

Minho flips them over, pushing Jisung’s face into the mattress and yanks his pants and boxers down, so rough the seams almost split. “Take these fucking clothes off.” 

Jisung’s feet scramble below him, struggling to get his pants off his feet all the way. 

Minho pulls Jisung up by the hair, bringing him up to face him. His mouth so close to his he can feel the outline of his plush upper lip. “Go get dressed.” 

Jisung stares at him, confused. His skull burning from the pull. 

“I want you to look pretty for me while I take what’s mine.” Minho whispers against the shell of Jisung’s ear. 

Minho lets go and Jisung scrambles off the bed so fast he crashes into the floor underneath him. 

“Such a clumsy little whore, aren’t you, baby?” 

Jisung stands, his arms laced together, embarrassment coloring his face. 

“Say it. Say you’re a clumsy, little whore.” Minho says, his tone firm. 

Jisung swallows. “I’m a… I'm a clumsy, little whore.”

“Good boy. Now go get pretty for me.” 

Jisung starts to run from the room, then stops suddenly and turns back, his fingers playing with the lock on the doorframe. “Um, is there anything specific you want me to wear? Or like a look?” 

“I trust you, baby.” Minho shakes his head. 

“Okay.” Jisung smiles softly, leaning against the doorway, getting lost gazing at Minho. 

“Jisung.” 

He snaps out of it. “Huh?” 

“Go.” 

“Oh! I’m going, sorry. Going.” He jogs to his room, already planning his outfit in his head. He knows exactly what he’s going to wear. 

The gift from Minho.

The black and red plaid skirt that’s too short to cover his ass. And the fishnets with the holes large enough for Minho to fuck him through.

He pulls a black crop top over his head, watching himself in the mirror as his cock swings from side to side, still hard, fluttering and cute. 

He tucks himself away and sits at his vanity, brushing glitter on his lids and glossing his lips. Then musses and fluffs up his hair, winking at himself in his reflection. 

He struts back over to Minho’s room, confident, but careful.

When he gets there, Minho’s sitting at his desk, looking bored and uninterested, typing on his computer. 

Jisung taps on his door, making his voice soft and pouty. “Minho, big brother, can you help me?” He asks, swinging his hips back and forth. 

Minho doesn’t look up, he stays typing and focused. “Huh? What is it, Jisung? I’m busy right now.” 

Jisung pouts deeper, walking into his room. “It’s just… I have a problem I need help with.” 

“Let me guess. You want me to take care of it for you?” 

“Please, hyung. I just… I just feel so empty.” 

“You need your big brother to fill you up, Jisungie? Is that it?” Minho clicks the buttons on his keyboard. 

“Please, hyungie. I need it. Need you.” 

“I’m really busy right now, Sungie.” 

Jisung walks over to Minho, falling to his knees, running his hands up his thighs. “But I thought… you wanted to make me take it.” 

Minho taps his keyboard again. “Yes. But now I wanna watch you to beg for it.” 

“Please let me suck your cock while you work, please, hyung.” Jisung mouths at the bulge in Minho’s lap. 

Minho glances down at him, lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t you have any shame, Jisung?”

“Not with my big brother.” Jisung rounds his eyes up at him. 

Minho turns away, still looking bored. “Alright. You can suck me off if you want, then.” 

“Thank you, thank you, hyung. Thank you.” Jisung reaches into Minho’s waistband, pulling out his cock, red and leaking at the tip. His eyes go wide, bulging out of their sockets. “You’re… you’re big.” 

“Don’t get shy now, baby brother. Not after you were begging so sweetly for it.” 

Jisung licks his lips, swallowing down the saliva pooling in his mouth. He circles his tongue along the head, sucking feebly as he stretches his jaw. “Fuck, you taste so good, hyung.” 

Minho stays staring forward, working and unbothered. 

Jisung widens his jaw before he’s ready, the ache crushing but his need for Minho’s cock stronger. It’s heavy on his tongue, warm and thick. The veins bulging on the sides forming ridges on his tongue as he sucks and gags around it.  

Minho’s lap is covered in Jisung’s drool, but he still doesn’t look at him. Still types away on his computer. 

Jisung pushes himself farther down Minho’s cock, out of breath and gasping for air. His own cock neglected and flushed, angry. 

But he doesn’t touch it, doesn’t give himself any relief.  

All consumed by the thought of his big brother being inside of him. 

He reaches back as he tongues at the slit of Minho’s cock, letting the taste of him linger on his lips. He presses a finger inside himself, impatient and desperate, dry.

He fucks himself open while he gags. Adding a second finger while Minho still stares forward, his breathing still steady. 

“Hyungie, just need..” Jisung pulls his fingers out, walking them up to Minho’s lips. “Just need you to taste me.” He presses his fingers inside. 

Minho’s eyes flutter shut for just a second. Jisung can feel his breath hitch against his fingers, but he still stares straight ahead as the taste of Jisung fills his tongue. 

He pulls his fingers back, pressing them back inside himself, whimpering at the glide and scissoring himself open. 

Jisung pulls off, climbing up and into Minho’s lap. Straddling him and curling into his chest. He wraps his arms around his neck, leaving room for Minho to keep looking at his computer, to keep working. 

Minho finally talks, but his voice is breathy and scattered, like he’s fighting to keep it even. “Jisung, what are you doing? I told you I'm busy.”

“I can’t help myself, hyungie. Need your cock in me now. Keep working, won’t bother you, promise.” 

Jisung holds out his fingers for Minho to taste. And Minho obliges, taking them into his mouth and slicking them up. His eyes rolling up into his head and back down slow enough for Jisung to notice. 

“See, not bothering you.” Jisung smiles softly, pulling his fingers out and lining Minho’s cock up against his rim underneath him. 

He relaxes his hips, pressing inside, whimpering against Minho’s neck. The warmth of his own breath enveloping him as his hips meet Minho’s thighs. 

“Ah, fuck.” 

It slips out, small and fragile, but he hears it. Hears Minho losing himself below him. 

“Still not bothering you. Right, hyung?” Jisung arches his back, lifting and dropping his hips. 

“No, you could never bother me, Sungie. Such a good little brother, always taking care of me.” 

Jisung bounces faster, his cock pressing against his fishnets, threatening to spill out. 

Minho finally takes a hand off the keyboard, reaching down and freeing Jisung’s strained cock, stroking him loosely as he increases his speed. 

“Hyung, please. Gonna cum if you keep doing that.” 

“You gonna make a mess in your pretty skirt for me, Sungie?” Minho strokes him faster, one eye on the computer and one eye on Jisung’s cock. 

“Please, hyung. I won’t last. Need you to cum first. Need to make you cum first.” 

“I’m close, baby.” Minho has both eyes on Jisung now, stroking him faster, rougher. “Need your big brother to fill you up, Sungie?” 

“Yes, yes. Please.” He breathes out, raspy and wet. 

Minho strokes him again, ribbons of white covering his fist as Jisung keeps bouncing, working himself through it. 

“You… your turn, hyung. Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” Jisung’s thighs shake as he begs. Quivering from the burn as Minho’s cock throbs inside of him, tensing and pulsing as he fills him full. 

Jisung’s body falls lifeless against Minho’s, his head resting on his shoulder as they catch their breath. “Hyung, my legs hurt.” 

“I know, baby. Don’t get up. Just stay here for a while. I wanna feel you.”  

“Me too. I wanna feel your cock get soft inside me.” 

“Okay, baby. Let’s just stay here for a little bit, then.” 

Jisung laughs lightly into Minho’s neck. “Who knew all it took was some incest play for you to finally fuck me? Big bro.” He pokes him.

“I learned something new about myself the other day.”

“I knew I saw your dick twitch when I called you big brother.”

They sit in Minho’s uncomfortable chair until their limbs go numb, aching and sore from being cramped up. 

“Baby.” Minho starts to squirm. “I gotta move. Everything hurts. My body hates me.” 

Jisung pushes himself up, using Minho’s chest as leverage. “Fuck, me too. Why did we sit here so long?” 

“Because you’re comfortable. But I think my body wants revenge now.” Minho starts to pull out. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jisung says, reaching for his phone, handing it to Minho. “Can you record it?”

“You wanna watch it later, baby?”

“Yeah, I wanna watch your cum drip out of me.” Jisung lifts his hips slowly, tugging his cheeks apart and arching his back. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Minho dotes as he checks the camera, making sure he’s got the right angle. 

Jisung wiggles his hips, still holding himself open. “Perfect for you, hyungie.” 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I gotta start making dinner soon.”  Minho pats his ass. 

“Are they coming?” Jisung rubs at his legs as he stands, massaging the indents on his calves. 

“Yeah, my dad just texted me.” 

“What are you gonna make?” 

Minho wraps his arm around Jisung’s waist, guiding him down the hall to the restroom. “I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?” 

Jisung’s eyes light up. “My mom hates pasta.” 

“What do you mean she hates pasta? Like, all pasta?”

“I told you she’s insane.” Jisung says, grabbing a towel from the hall closet."

“Looks like we’re having pasta for dinner.” 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you after I shower.” 

“Hey, wait.” Minho tugs on the towel in Jisung’s hand, spinning him back around to face him. “I forgot something.”

He pulls Jisung in by the waist, pressing his lips into his. It’s slow, deliberate. 

Jisung throws his arms around his shoulders, his fingers digging into his skull as he deepens the kiss. 

His stomach fills with butterflies, fluttering through his chest and out his throat. The kind of feeling he’d only seen in movies his mom would pass out drunk on the couch to. 

Minho picks him up with one arm, maneuvering him up against the cabinets. Then drops to his knees in front of him. 

“What are–” 

Minho smiles, gentle and innocent, his eyes gleaming as he looks up at him. He presses hip lips to Jisung’s cock, hanging soft through the hole of his fishnets. 

He hisses at the feeling. “Ah– sensitive, sensitive.” 

“I know, baby. I just wanted a taste.” Minho nips at the flesh of Jisung’s thighs, sucking until he leaves a trail of bruises like stepping stones. 

Minho trails his lips up Jisung’s body, leaving soft kisses on the way. 

“That’s what you forgot?” Jisung grins. 

“Yeah. Now, go shower before I try to fuck you again.” Minho grabs a handful of Jisung’s ass and squeezes. 

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

“Sorry, Ms. Han. I had no idea you didn’t like pasta. I can make you something else, if you want.” Minho apologizes, reaching for her plate, food untouched. 

“No. No, it's okay.” She waves him off. “No sense in you making me something completely different.”

Jisung helps Minho clear the rest of the table, their eyes low as they give each other hidden smiles. 

They bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen, tossing the food scraps away and rinsing them off. And then Jisung places the dishes in the dishwasher. 

He doesn’t bother to wash them by hand, or towel dry them, or set them in the dishrack. 

“We’re gonna go get something for me to eat since–” His mom starts to say, dipping her head in the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“The dishes. What does it look like?” Jisung answers with a straight face. 

“In the dishwasher?” 

Jisung can see the crinkle in between her eyebrows and the frown lines around her mouth. “Yeah. It’s easier. And it still gets the job done.” 

The vein on her forehead looks like it’s going to burst. “Minho, can you excuse us? Just for a second, please?”

Minho swallows nervously, glancing over at Jisung. 

He tips his head at him, curling the corner of his lips in a small smile. “It’s okay.”

Minho leaves the kitchen, but stops at the doorway, listening. 

His mom leans into Jisung’s space, her breath like fire against him but sending a chill up his spine. “Whatever it is that you think you’re doing. It’s not gonna work. Jiyong is never gonna believe you. Now, do the dishes like you’re supposed to before you regret it.”

“Ready, hun?” Jiyong calls out from the front hallway. 

She perks up instantly, fake smile and eyebrows lifted, the mask painted back on her face already. “Ready!” She calls out, her voice soothing and pleasant. She turns back to Jisung, voice low and gritty again. “And don’t go influencing Minho with your bullshit. He’s actually a good guy, unlike you. I wish I had a son like him.” 

Jisung plasters a wide smile on his face, his eyes melting into his full cheeks. “Have a good meal, mother.”

He doesn’t do the dishes. He leaves them dirty, pasta sauce drying and cream cheese from the garlic bread flaking along the ceramic. 

He lays splayed out on his bedroom floor staring up at the ceiling. His eyes following the flashing trails of beaming headlights that peek through his window as cars drive by. 

Minho stands in the doorway, quietly watching him from a distance. 

“Will you lay with me?” Jisung reaches his hand out towards him. 

Minho takes it, holding it in his, not letting go as he lays down next to him. “So, what are we doing?” 

They stay there, hands intertwined, getting lost in the blank pattern of the ceiling. “Forgetting the world.” 

“You wanna go somewhere else?” 

Jisung nods, unblinking, still staring upwards.

“Okay. How about…” Minho thinks. “We go camping. But we gotta make a list.” 

“A list?” The side of Jisung’s mouth curls into a smile, soft and upside down. 

“Yeah, you wanna help me?” 

He nods again. 

“Okay. I’m gonna bring… a microwave.” 

“A microwave? Is this like glamping?” 

“Could be.” Minho shrugs lightly. “So, what are you gonna bring?” 

“Hmm. I’ll bring… sleeping bags.” Jisung answers. 

Minho shakes his head. “Nope. You can’t bring that, sorry.” 

“What do you mean? What kind of camping is this?” Jisung’s chest gets lighter.

“You just can’t. I don’t make the rules.” 

“I think you do, actually.” 

“Maybe. Okay, I’m gonna bring…. mittens.” 

“Mittens, huh?” Jisung muses. 

“Yep. Your turn.” He pokes his hip with his pinky.

“Fine. I’m gonna bring a flashlight.” 

“Nope. No flashlights, sorry.” He says, amused with himself. “I’m gonna bring music.” 

“Music? Like, to play or to listen to?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m just bringing music.” 

Jisung softly kicks at his foot. “Seriously, what kind of list is this?” 

“Come on, it’s your turn.” He squeezes his hand. 

“I will bring… jokes.” 

“There we go. You found something you can bring.”

“This is not a list!”

“Yes, it is! Just keep going. Okay, I’m gonna bring a mountain.” 

“A mountain.” Jisung repeats. 

“Yup.”

“Okay, so you’re bringing a microwave, mittens, music and a mountain, whatever the fuck that means.” Jisung laughs, pointing at himself. “And I’m bringing jokes.” 

“So far, yeah.” 

Jisung stares back up at the ceiling, the flashing of red brake lights shining through the blinds. “Okay, then I’ll bring a jaguar.”

“Yes! I love jaguars. That’s a good one.” 

“Can I pick one for you?” Jisung asks.

“Yeah, go.” 

“A mouse.” 

“Perfect!” Minho lifts their hands, still tangled together, celebrating.

Jisung giggles, nudging Minho’s shoulder. Then exhales a sigh as he closes his eyes, sleep slowly pulling him under. 

“I’m sorry, Sungie.” Minho’s thumb traces along Jisung’s.

“It’s not your fault, hyung.” 

“No. But you deserve more, better.” 

Jisung’s voice is fading as he gets closer to sleep. “Not according to her, I don’t.” 

Minho inhales, shallow and rigid. “Come on, Sung.” He sits up, pulling Jisung with him. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Can’t you just leave me here? I don’t wanna get up, I’m tired.” Jisung relaxes his body, falling into dead weight.

“Nope. Come on. I’ll lay with you.”

Jisung’s eyes pop open. “Really?” 

“You’re so predictable.” 

“Am not.” He whines. 

“And needy.” 

“Okay, that’s true.” 

“Oh, I know.” 

“Need you, hyung. Sleep with me, please.” Jisung finally sits up, making grabby hands at Minho.

“I will if you get up.” Minho pulls Jisung to stand. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.” 

They brush their teeth side by side, bumping hips. They change into pajamas, trading clothes and laughing about how they fit the other so differently. They stay up late, giddy and laughing about nothing and everything, Jisung curled up into Minho’s side, his arms wrapped around his waist. 

Jisung lays in bed feeling loved for the first time since… ever. He has chills and feels warm and soft and heavy and light and everything in between. It’s the first time he’d rather stay awake than fall asleep.

So, he can feel the veins on Minho’s hands that are interlaced with his. And the puffs of air on his neck when he laughs. 

He found solace in his high pitched giggle. 

He found a home in Minho.

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

“Oh, fuck.” Jisung moans out in his sleep, his voice slurred and gravelly. “Fuck, baby. That feels–” He rolls his hips up, thrashing his head side to side as he slowly starts to wake up. 

His hands roam the mattress, fisting the sheets, the pillow, working their way down to his cock. He freezes when his fingers land, feeling movement underneath them. 

His eyes shoot open. “Minho?”

Minho pops off, circling his tongue and suckling at his tip. He slides his body up Jisung’s chest, slipping his tongue through his parted lips. “Good morning.”

Jisung melts into the mattress. “Good morning?” He huffs, still half asleep. 

“You’re a deep sleeper. I almost thought you were gonna stay asleep while I fucked you.” 

“I am, ye– fuck.” His eyes roll to the back of his skull as Minho wraps his hand around his cock, using his spit to ease the glide as he strokes him. 

Jisung’s still not fully convinced this isn’t a dream. He digs his nails into Minho’s arm, pinching and prodding at the flesh.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Minho flinches.

“Sorry, just trying to see if I’m dreaming.” 

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself, Jisung.” 

“Yeah, but that hurts. I’m sensitive.” He juts his lip out in a pout. 

“You are sensitive, aren’t you?” Minho circles his tongue around Jisung’s nipple, smirking at the way his body jolts. He makes his way back down, stretching his small mouth over Jisung’s cock, the fit perfect. 

“I like how big your tiny mouth makes my dick look.” 

Minho gargles around him, drool spilling from his lips. “It’s so cute. The perfect size for me.” He takes him back down, his tip hitting the back of his throat as he swallows. 

Minho reaches his hand up, pressing his fingers to Jisung’s lips. 

He curls his hand around Minho’s wrist, taking his fingers in mouth, and swirling his tongue around them. 

Minho pulls them back, circling Jisung’s rim, pushing two fingers inside. 

“Ah, fuck, Minho.” Jisung tugs at Minho’s hair, pulling him up. “Kiss me.” 

Jisung curls both hands around his face, locking his eyes on his, watching his irises fade and disappear. 

Minho presses their lips together, swallowing down Jisung’s whines as he stretches him open. 

“Fuck me, hyung. I’m ready, please. I don’t wanna wait again.” 

Minho pulls back, lining himself up. “Me neither.” 

Jisung’s eyes dip, his mouth turning into a soft smile. “Really?”

“Yesterday was so fun, baby.” Minho kisses the corners of Jisung’s mouth. 

“That was fun.” Jisung’s cheeks bunch up.

“But fuck, it was so hard pretending I wasn’t into it, into you.” He presses his cock to Jisung’s rim, pushing in slowly, just past the tip, watching as it goes in. “Fuck, you’re still so tight, baby. Even though I just fucked you.”

Jisung pulls Minho into him as he bottoms out, their hips and thighs pressed together. “Then tell me. Tell me everything you wanted to tell me yesterday.”

Minho starts to pull out, just up to the head, then thrusts back in. Slow, but deep, curving at just the right angle. 

Jisung whimpers at the feeling, tears already clumping in his lashes. 

“I love the way you sound, Jisung. The way your mouth falls open when my cock goes in.” He starts to pick up the pace, rolling his hips deeper. “The way your eyes shine while you gag around me.”

Jisung stays quiet as he listens to the words Minho’s saying, to the way it sounds like he actually means them. His eyes glimmer at the airy sound of his voice, still so soft even in the morning, even after his cock was just down his throat. 

“You’re so pretty like this, baby.” 

Jisung’s lungs inflate, his whole chest feels like it’s gonna burst. 

“But I also loved the way you begged for me. Such a good little whore for me, Sungie.” 

The switch has Jisung’s stomach tied in knots, all the air pushed from his ribs. “I–”

“Minho?” Jisung’s mom calls out through his door, jiggling the locked handle. “Jisung, is Minho in there?” 

Minho reaches up, his hand covering Jisung’s mouth, holding it down with firm pressure as he fucks into him. “Don’t say a fucking word.” 

Jisung’s eyes go wide, mumbling under his palm.

“No, you’re too fucking loud. You’ll give us away.” He whispers into his cheek. 

Jisung shakes his head, low murmurs slipping through Minho’s fingers. 

“I’m in here, Ms. Han!” Minho calls out. 

She shakes the door handle again. “What are you doing in there?” 

Minho looks down at Jisung as he thrusts into him. He watches his eyebrows flit, feeling the vibrations of his whimpering under his palm. “Nothing, we just fell asleep in here watching a movie last night!”

“You know, Minho, your dad and I are getting married soon. You can start calling me ‘Eomma’ if you want.”

Jisung clenches around him, a smirk on his face so wide Minho can see it under his hand. 

“Fuck, that feels good, Eomma.” Minho slips. 

“What was that, Minho?” 

He clears his throat. “I said that sounds good, Eomma!”

“Alright, well, your dad and I are gonna go look at a house, so we’ll be back later.” 

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll let Jisung know, too!” 

“That’s alright, you don’t have to. We’ll see you later, Minho.” 

Jisung starts to roll his eyes and Minho presses his hips into him harder, a pounding thrust that pulls a whine deep from Jisung’s chest. 

They hear feet shuffling back to the door. “What did you say, dear?” 

“Nothing! Just yawning, see you later!” 

They listen for the sound of retreating footsteps fade into silence, then Minho’s flipping Jisung onto his stomach, pulling his ass up in the air. 

“Oh, my god, do you have a mommy kink now? Do you want me to put my skirt back on so you can call me ‘mommy’ while you fuck me?” Jisung grins.

“Yeah, kinda. You gonna call me ‘daddy’ while I fuck you?” 

“Yes, fuck. Fuck me, daddy. Please.” Jisung pushes his hips back on Minho’s cock. 

“You’re so fucking loud, Jisung.” Minho slaps the flesh of Jisung’s ass, watching as it bounces back. “I bet you want her to hear you. Want her to hear the pretty sounds you make.” 

Jisung clenches tighter around him. “Fuck, hyung.” 

“Those sounds are only for me now. You understand me, Jisung?” Minho pulls him up, Jisung’s back pressed into his chest. 

“What if… ah— I want her to hear me?” 

“Then I stop fucking you.” Minho thrusts again. 

“Don’t stop, hyungie. Want her to hear how good you fuck me.” 

“You’re mine now, Jisung. No one else gets to fuck you, no one else gets to hear you. I don’t even want anyone else to look at you. You hear me?” Minho pulls Jisung in, his body slamming into his. 

“Yes, yes, hyung. No one else. Just you.” Jisung pushes himself back as Minho thrusts in, their bodies moving in time. “Gonna cum.”

Jisung reaches for his cock to stroke himself. He’s so close, just needs a little more, but Minho slaps his hand away. “Cum on my cock, Jisung.”

Minho thrusts up into him one more time, hitting the perfect spot inside of him that sends him over the edge. Jisung cries out, his whole body clenching and tingling as his cum dirties the sheets below them. “Cum in me, hyung. Please, please.” 

Cum spills from Minho’s cock before Jisung finishes begging, filling him up with warm spurts, his cock throbbing from his release. 

Their bodies collapse, crashing into the mattress. 

“Fuck. That was…” Jisung starts to say, his breathing still shaky.

“Yeah.” Minho tries to agree, only able to form one word. 

Jisung’s eyes bolt open. “Hey, what the fuck?” 

“What?”

“Why’d you make me be quiet? She could’ve finally caught us.” 

“Hey, this is your game, not mine. I’m just along for the ride.” Minho throws his hands up. “Why’d you even listen to me if you wanted to get caught?”

Jisung inhales, wondering why himself. “I think… I just… wanna keep doing this. For a little while longer, if that’s okay.” 

Minho pulls him into his chest, his fingers toying with the lobe of his ear. “Of course, it’s okay.”

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

Time slips away from them. They work and continue their studies as the weeks fly by. But this time everything is different. The soft touches, the subtle glances, all fueled and set ablaze by them both. 

They spend movie nights wrapped up in each other, prepare lunches and snacks together. Or Jisung sits on the counter, swinging his feet while Minho prepares them. But now they sit next to each other instead of across, nestled in tight and comfortable as the world spins around them.

Maybe Jisung is a little distracted, and maybe his plan has been slightly altered, but he still hasn’t given up on it. But it’s hard when he has the most beautiful man in his bed every night. Telling him how pretty he is, and telling him jokes that only they’d think are funny. 

And doing things only they’d understand. 

“Fuck me, mommy.” Minho holds Jisung under his thighs, maneuvering his hips as he bounces on his cock. 

Jisung’s skirt rides up as he straddles him, his ass on display, and tights snagged and ripped just enough for Minho’s cock to slide through. 

Jisung sits up on his knees, lifting a leg and planting a foot on the mattress, using the leverage to roll his body into Minho.  

Minho’s eyes flutter shut, his fingers twitching against Jisung’s thighs. 

Jisung grips his chin between his fingers. “You like the way Mommy fucks you, baby?”

Minho’s whole body goes numb, pliant for just a second. Then a visible shiver wracks through him, goosebumps covering his skin. “Yes, Mommy. Fuck me, please.”

Jisung’s thighs start to burn, his cock pulses in his tights. “Fuck, such a good boy, baby. I’m so close.”

“Gonna squirt on me, Mommy? Cover me in your cum?” Minho reaches for Jisung’s cock, ripping the tights open, letting it hang free.

“Ah, fuck.” Jisung cums before he can process what’s happening. Warm spurts covering Minho’s thighs, stomach, shooting out in all directions as his cock swings as he thrashes his hips.

Minho snaps his hips up, the pace brutal as he chases his own high. Jisung’s soft cock droops, hanging pathetically, as Minho fucks up into him. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna–”

Jisung arches his back, reaching back to pull the hem of his skirt down. “On the skirt. Cum on my skirt, please. Paint me with it.” 

“Gonna look so pretty painted in my cum, huh?” Minho pulls out, ribbons of white covering the fabric in hot spurts as he drags his cock over Jisung.

Jisung’s body falls, landing next to Minho as they catch their breath. “We probably need so much therapy.” 

“Probably.” Minho says, his voice raspy. “Can I be the mommy next time?” 

Jisung’s eyes slit. “That would probably be more of a hate fuck.” 

“Exactly.” Minho chuckles. “We should get cleaned up. I gotta start cooking and you have that big talk with them before dinner.”

“You know you don’t always have to cook, right?” 

“I know, but I like it, remember? It’s not a problem.” 

“Do you know what they wanna talk to me about, anyway?”

“No idea. Do you want me to stay? I can sneak my hand in your pants while they talk to you.” 

“Aw, you’re so sweet.” Jisung presses his shoulder into Minho’s. “But it’s okay. I’m not worried.” 

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

Jisung sits on his mom’s favorite chair in the living room. His feet pulled up and resting on the floral fabric as her eyes burn holes in his soles. 

Jiyong presses his palm to her knee, trying to be soothing, but Jisung doesn’t miss the way she flinches at the touch. “So, we just wanted to check in with you and see how you’re feeling about the wedding. See if maybe you’ve changed your mind or feel better about it at all?”

“No.” Is all Jisung gives. 

The flame in his mom’s eyes burns brighter, glowing a deep scarlet and fuming.

“Well, is there anything we can do to change your mind?” Jiyong tries.

“No.” 

“Look, I know you think your mom has a few faults, and I’m not saying that’s not true, but she really is trying to turn a new leaf.” Jiyong turns to her, smiling, and Jisung watches the fire in her eyes extinguish. Fading and clearing out before his head is even turned. “And we’re really trying to work together as a team.”

“Oh, really? How so?” Jisung sinks down in the chair, dragging his feet along the arm. 

“Well, I know her drinking is one of the issues you mentioned at the beginning, so we’ve made an agreement about that.” 

“And when that fails?” 

“If that fails”, Jiyong emphasizes the word. “Then we’ll figure it out together.” 

His mom takes Jiyong’s hand in hers, so gentle it’s almost convincing. “I am trying, Jisung. I am.” 

“How?” He asks sharply.

“How what?” 

“How are you trying? What are some things that you're doing?”

His mom leans forward a bit, the fumes in her eyes back again. “Well, Jisung. I threw away all the alcohol in the house. And I also attend AA meetings a few times a week. It’s why I haven’t been home much lately, not that you’d notice.”

“I’m very proud of her, Jisung.” Jiyong squeezes her hand lightly. “And you should be too.”

She brings a hand to Jiyong’s chin, softly caressing his cheek. “Thank you, baby.” 

“Of course.” He leans into the touch. “So, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving. Should we go eat?”

“You go ahead. I’m gonna have a minute here with Jisung.”

Jiyong presses his lips to her hand as he stands. “Okay, I’ll just go see if Minho needs any help.”

The second Jiyong steps out, her smile drops, the temperature of the room falling with it. The atmosphere turning icy and cold as she takes a seat next to Jisung. 

Goosebumps cover his skin. From the cold, from her shrill voice, from the chilling look on her face as she crowds him. 

“I told you it was never gonna work, Jisung. I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. Think about this the next time you try to be clever.” She stands to leave. “And get your fucking feet off my chair.” She slaps his legs down as she walks by. His feet crashing to the floor with a thud. 

He sits still in the chair, poised and proper. Like everything is fine, normal. 

He listens for her to sit at the table, giggling about how excited she is to eat with her family, with the people she cares about. 

When the screeching sound of her chair being pulled in quiets, he gets up calmly, heads to her room, and then heads to the dining room. 

He sits at the table, bottle of wine in hand.

Jiyong eyes him, his face flushed. “Jisung. I thought we just talked about this. We’re not drinking right now.” 

Jisung pours himself a glass. “Right. We're not drinking. Are we, Eomma?” 

“Jisung, how much have you had to drink already?” Jiyong asks.

“This is my first glass. Why?” His eyes are relaxed, his face neutral and calm. 

“That can’t be your first glass. We just got that bottle as a gift. How did you even get that? Your mom threw it out.” 

“She did, huh? Because I found this locked in the cupboard in her closet.” Jisung holds up the bottle, swooshing around the liquid inside. “And it’s already more than halfway gone, so.” He raises his eyebrows. 

“Jisung.” Minho says softly into Jisung’s side. 

“And if this is my first glass, that means someone else must have drank it. Was it you?” He tips his glass to Jiyong. 

Jiyong’s eyes shift, shaking his head so small it’s almost missable. 

Jisung looks to Minho. “Was you it you, Minho-hyung?” 

Minho keeps his head down, chewing on the inside of his cheek, gently shaking his head. 

“So, that only leaves one person then, yeah? But that can’t be right, because she just said she’s not drinking. That she’s ‘really trying.’” 

The room falls silent and uneasy. The tension so thick you can see it filling the room like fog. 

And then, she breaks. 

Her patience, the plates, the glasses. Everything gets thrown and shattered in an instant. Like a flip has switched, like the fuse that was lit in her had finally detonated and ignited. 

“This is what you wanna marry, Jiyong-nim? A monster?” 

“You set her off, Jisung! She’s not a monster.” Jiyong tries to defend her as he tries to calm her down, dishes still being broken and tossed around the room. 

“She was lying to you! She's been lying this whole time! Why are you still defending her?”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Jisung!” His mom’s voice is shrill and sharp. It cuts deep through his chest, reverting him back to the person he was just a few months ago. Back to a small child, begging his mom to help him clean up his cuts and bruises, but her adding to them instead.

He gets overtaken by fear. Goes quiet, frozen in place, suddenly wanting to apologize, to do everything he can to make everything perfect. To make her happy again. 

Until Minho’s soft voice breaks through the high pitched shrieks. His warm hand running down his arm, breaking him out of his flashback and bringing him back to reality. 

His fingers are firm but gentle, wiping away the tears that are streaming down his face that he didn’t know were there. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay. It’s just me. Let’s go.” 

Minho pulls Jisung from the chaos. The cool chill of the air outside setting him free and reminding him who he is now. Who he’s been since he finally decided to stand up for himself. 

And who he’s been since he met Minho. 

Not the scared child trapped in an adult like body, not someone who was too scared to laugh or to cry or to be vulnerable. 

But someone who had finally found himself. Someone who let himself open up. Someone who let himself love. 

By someone who taught him patience. By someone that loved him back. 

Or he hoped so, at least.

“Is this real for you?” 

Minho's skin flushes, his eyes go wide. “What?” 

“Us. Are we real?” Jisung’s voice goes dry, shriveling inside him, the buds of his tongue scraping the roof of his mouth. 

“Jisung.” 

“I’m not going back in there. Even if she changes her mind. I can’t. I’m not doing it.” 

“I–”

“I love you, hyung. Come with me. Please. We can start over somewhere else. Just us.” Jisung claws at Minho’s chest, clinging to the fabric of his shirt. 

“Where are we gonna go, Jisung? We have nothing. No money, no place to stay.” 

“It doesn’t matter. As long as we’re together. As long as I have you. ”

“Why couldn’t you just wait a little longer, Jisung? Just a few more weeks, that’s all we needed.” Minho curls his hands around Jisung’s jaw, his fingers caressing his cheeks. 

“Needed for what? I was fucking dying in there, Minho. She’s never gonna change. I don’t know why I ever thought I should stay. I should have just let your dad take her from the beginning. I can’t fucking do this anymore, Minho. I can’t.”

“I know. I know, baby. It’s just… I had a plan, Jisung. I just needed a little more time.”

Jisung shrinks. “You had a plan?”

“Yeah, I had a plan.” 

Jisung’s chest heaves. He wets his lips, trying to soothe the tears that ripped through his dry skin. “Like, your own plan? A plan… for yourself?” 

“No, Jisung.” Minho presses a hand against Jisung’s chest. “A plan for us.” 

“Well… Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I just… I didn’t know if it was crazy. I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, about me.” Minho thumbs at Jisung’s collar. “I just wanna to be able to take care of you, but I wanted to make sure everything was in place before I told you.” 

“I don’t need you to take care of me. I just need you to be with me.” Jisung exhales, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder and nestling in. 

Minho curls his hand around Jisung’s neck, toying with the waves of hair that hang low. “I know you don’t need to be taken care of.” He presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I just wanted to love you the way you were always supposed to be loved.”

Jisung’s breathing skips, then evens out. The way it always does around Minho. That sense of familiar calm he brings him settling in his chest. “I have money.”

Minho’s fingers freeze. “You do?”

“I stopped paying bills as part of my plan.” He smiles into Minho’s warmth. “So, I started saving it.”

“You… Really? How… how much did you save?” 

“Enough to get us by until you get your new job.” He raises his head, eyes round. “Graduation’s soon. You said you already have a job lined up, right?”

Minho looks down at him, his face soft. “Yeah.” 

“So, we use the money I saved until then. And I’m still working, so we’ll still have money coming in. Not a lot, I know, but still.” Jisung’s voice starts to get higher, like it does when he’s excited about something. Something he’s learned about himself since meeting Minho. “And when you get your new job, we’ll be able to take care of each other. You can take care of me, the way you wanted.”

Minho shakes his head, a gentle puff of laughter pulled from him. “You have everything planned out, don’t you?”

Jisung’s eyes gleam, bright and reflective in the pinks and oranges of the evening sun. “So, you’ll go with me?”

“Do you really have to ask?” He huffs again.

“No.” Jisung swallows. “But I need to hear you say it. Please say it, hyung. Say you wanna leave with me.” 

Minho tightens his grip around the base of Jisung’s neck, scruffing him and pulling him in. “Yes, I wanna leave with you, Jisung. I’d live in a fucking trashcan with you as long it meant we’d be together.” 

“Really? You’d make me a little trash bed?” 

“Yup, and I’d curl in next to you.” He tips Jisung’s chin up with a finger. “Jisung, I… I love you so much, you know that, right?”

Jisung squeezes the flesh on Minho’s side. “Do you really have to ask?”

Ი︵𐑼 ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

Jisung adjusts Mr. Whiskers on the sofa, fluffing up the pillows and wiping down all the surfaces. “I can’t believe we’re having a dinner party. We’re so mature now.” 

“I don’t know about mat–”

“Oh, my god. You should fuck me in the bathroom while everyone’s here. And they’ll all be like, ‘Wow, they’ve been gone for a while now. I wonder what they’re doing.’ And you’ll be in the bathroom bending me over the sink.”

“Like, I said. I don’t know if ‘mature’ is the right word.” 

Jisung arranges the chairs. Then rearranges them. Then rearranges them again.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be fun, okay?” 

“Do you think they’ll come?” Jisung chews on the skin around his fingernails. 

“Of course, they will. Trust me.” Minho presses his hand to the small of Jisung’s back, guiding him to the couch. “Come on, relax for a bit until they get here.” 

But before he can take a seat, they hear the chiming of the doorbell. 

Jisung’s eyes light up, his teeth still gnawing at his skin. 

Minho opens the door to gleaming teeth and shining eyes.

“Felix! Chan! You guys made it!” Jisung bounces on his heels, wrapping his arms around them and pulling them into the apartment. 

“Of course, we did, Sung. We told you we’d come.” Felix hands Jisung a tray. “I made brownies!” 

“Oh, thank god. That was like, the only reason he invited you.” Minho teases. 

“It was not!” Jisung swats him on the shoulder. “It was one of the reasons.” 

“And I brought this.” Chan hands Minho a bottle of wine. “But Felix picked it out ‘cause I don’t know anything about wine. Are the rest of the guys coming?” 

Jisung looks nervous again, his thumb tearing at the skin on his index finger. “They said they–” 

He’s interrupted by the sound of the doorbell again.

“Our lives would be a lot better if you never doubted me again.” Minho smiles at him, pinching his cheek. 

“Stop stealing my lines.” Jisung opens the door, bright eyed and giddy.

The rest of their friends pile into their apartment, loud and chaotic. 

But not the chaos Jisung used to know. The kind that sent shivers through his spine and caused ringing in his ears. 

This is a calm chaos. The kind Minho and his friends showed him. The kind born from laughter that echoes and swinging arms that stay playful. 

They sit comfortably at their dining room table while Changbin’s voice booms through the air as he tells over the top jokes. Hyunjin giggles at his side, telling him to stop being so loud while still egging him on. 

Jeongin sits next to Jisung, complaining about the assignments they have left in the year while Seungmin complains about his complaining. 

And Jisung takes it all in, how different things are now.

Plates getting passed instead of thrown, bickering instead of arguing. And ending the night watching a movie that he picked with the volume turned low. Wrapped up in Minho on the couch that they bought, for the apartment they live in, surrounded by friends that became family.