estdionysus
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Summary
Jisung finally has a date, so he turns to his alpha hyungs for help regarding his inexperience with physical intimacy.
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Summary
“If I say it and you don't like it, promise you will just, like, forget about this forever.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.” Jisung tugs his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes going round with concern. Cute. It makes Chan want to give him whatever he wants, makes anyone want to give him whatever he wants. Jisung must know that.
“Just tell me.”
Chan's heart thumps, too hard; he's not sure why.
“We could edge ourselves,” Jisung says casually.
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“Wait.” Jisung cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at Minho.
Minho is almost sure he contained his pained sound, but can’t be certain. He pulls back just far enough that his dick isn't pressed against Jisung's hole and takes a deep, calming breath through his nose. “Yeah?”
“Is this, like… Ethical?” Jisung asks. “Am I a bad boss?”
“You’re a great boss,” Minho lies.
Jisung stares at him warily. Jisung is a beyond brilliant software engineer and a terrible fucking boss. They both know this.
“Please let me fuck you,” Minho adds, more desperate than he’ll ever admit.
“Yeahokay.” Jisung puts his forehead back on the desk and arches.
Minho gets a job at a tech startup. His supervisor has no leadership experience and a fat ass.
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It usually goes something like this: when he has the extra cash and spare time (and honestly not even just when those circumstances are met), Hyunjin arrives at Macho Macho. He watches people fawn over Changbin and tries not to turn green with envy. He watches the show and gets closer and closer to climbing up on the stage and wrapping himself around Changbin right there, in front of every single patron that dares to look at him. Afterwards, Changbin meets him in the back, they get ridiculed for near-public-indecency by the other workers, and then Changbin takes him home.
or: changbin works at a muscle bar, and hyunjin falls in love.
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“Oh shit—quick! Make a wish!” Jisung grabs Minho’s shoulder and jumps in place. He squeezes his eyes shut, nose wrinkled in concentration, previous conversation forgotten.
“What’d you wish for?” Minho asks, voice too soft, too reverent. Shit, he really can’t help himself.
Jisung peeks one eye open. “Aish, for you to stop looking at me like that,” he whines.
“Like what?”
Jisung circles his wrist and swings their arms lazily. The pressure of his touch sends shocks up and down Minho’s forearm.
“Like that.”
“With my eyes?”
“Seriously, hyung. Stop perceiving me.”
or
minho doesn't believe wishes can come true...
until Jisung turns invisible.