quokkascheeks
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“Are you—” he stammers, grip tightening on Jisung’s wrists, keeping him pinned, “Are you trying to ride my thigh?”
“Fuck,” Jisung whispers, his voice cracking, the word faint. “I’m sorry, hyung, I–” He sucks in a breath, eyes squeezing shut again. “It hurts so much.”
Minho's throwaway joke about curses comes back to bite him— literally —when Jisung turns up at his door in the middle of the night, hard, desperate and convinced Minho hexed him.
Bookmarked by quokkascheeks
13 Feb 2026
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“Why did you do it?” Minho’s voice almost gets carried away by the wind like a stray leaf, one Jisung would step on and be greeted with the dissatisfying lack of a crunch.
Jisung doesn’t need to ask what “it” is. Why did he leave without saying goodbye, why did he let what happened happen without the consequences, why did he let Minho feel the way he felt, and why did Jisung not allow himself the same luxury?
It's the same answer Jisung has as to why he’s anxious and sad sometimes; he just is. He just did it. But he didn’t. It was more.
“I don’t know,” Jisung says. It’s easier to lie.
(OR: When an interaction between rockstar Han Jisung and pop prince Lee Minho goes viral, management jumps on the opportunity for a joint press run. Minho and Jisung's history complicates things.)
Bookmarked by quokkascheeks
12 Feb 2026
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It starts with a box. A small square of cardboard sitting innocuously in the hallway in front of Minho’s door when he gets back from his Social Exclusion lecture. There’s a strip of silver tape across the top and a typed label with the address of the alpha dorm building but no name or return address.
That box is the sole reason for the calamities to press upon him.
Well, no, it isn’t but Minho occasionally endeavours to enjoy the luxury of blaming someone or something else for his hardships.
Bookmarked by quokkascheeks
12 Feb 2026
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Jisung knows he needs to change it. There is zero way he can submit episodes with a carbon copy of his lover as the literal protagonist. But, every time he tried to change the shape of the nose, or soften the lips, or dial back the thighs — his fingers betrayed him. Every line pulled itself back to the same place.
Minho’s place.
If Jisung had been a normal manhwa author, then maybe this would be okay. The drawing of Minho is as flattering and handsome.
The incriminating part comes from scrolling down to the next panel, which connects his soft but defined torso and heavy thighs into what is, obviously, his erect dick.
His erect, tentacle dick.
This is hardly the first alien dick Jisung's drawn, and he’d be surprised if it was his last. But it is admittedly the first he’s ever drawn that connects to his (almost) boyfriend.
or
Jisung is a BL manhwa author with a moderate (cult) following. Maybe this wouldn't be such an obstruction to his blooming relationship with Minho, if he could just stop being a pervert for five minutes.
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The rest of the world is underwater. Someone is saying something but Jisung can’t hear a thing over the static in his ears, high-pitched and ringing as he stares at Minho’s hand, split skin and smeared blood over his knuckles, all for Jisung.
One singular thought makes it through the noise.
I need to suck his dick.