hi bbs I’m so sorry for not posting.. don’t worry I’ll post a chapter today <3 I’ve been really busy w ALOT of assignments. I sometimes hate being an art student. PROMISE A CHAPTER WILL BE OUT TODAY! <33 love u guys sm.
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n accidentally catches the attention of notorious playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him, shooting his shot proves nearly impossible when y/n absolutely despises players.
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n accidentally catches the attention of notorious playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him, shooting his shot proves nearly impossible when y/n absolutely despises players.
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n accidentally catches the attention of notorious playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him, shooting his shot proves nearly impossible when y/n absolutely despises players.
genre : comedy, lots of cursing (lmk if missing any!!)
part 6
۶ৎ previous ۶ৎ next ۶ৎ series masterlist
!! sadly no more adding ppl into the taglist, it’s full!! sorry my bbs
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n accidentally catches the attention of notorious playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him, shooting his shot proves nearly impossible when y/n absolutely despises players.
!! sadly no more adding ppl into the taglist, it’s full!! sorry my bbs
reposts & comments are appreciated o(｀ω´ )o
+ can't tag some accounts but dw l've reached out to you! pls check if your account has any restrictions in letting me tag you 😽
(y/n is lowk is denial, long chapter !! sunghoon is just sunghoon and heeseung is sus… also the timing is off but please ignore that)
if you guys have any ideas or suggestions for this smau please please share them😽😽 I’m slowly running out of ideas, just drop anything that you want to happen in this smau!! <33
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n accidentally catches the attention of notorious playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him, shooting his shot proves nearly impossible when y/n absolutely despises players. !! (sunoo is just testing y/n’s and asa’s patience at this time LMAO, sunghoon lowk not being a dick for the first time?? and new character added👀👀)
y/n and asa exchanged a shocked look—more like an “i’m going to kill him” look. sunoo could only slowly walk over to where y/n and asa were standing.
“hiii, my beautiful beloved best friends—”
“WHY IS PARK SUNGHOON AND HIS LITTLE GANG WITH YOU?!” y/n raged, already looking very, very pissed. before sunoo could even mutter out an apology, a voice reached y/n’s ears.
“wsg, pretty.”
she rolled her eyes before looking at him.
“what do you want, park?”
y/n could only snicker before glaring back at sunoo, who gave both of his friends a guilty look.
“hey cutie.”
jay snaked an arm around asa’s shoulder.
“ew, get OFF of me.”
she shoved his arm away—hard. jake could only chuckle.
“hi, pretty ladies. i’m jake!”
y/n just rolled her eyes before intertwining her hand with asa’s and looking at sunoo.
“you owe us.”
as the two girls disappeared from their side, sunghoon watched them leave before saying,
“she wants me so bad.”
sunoo gave him a disgusted look before patting his back.
“whatever helps you sleep at night, bro.”
“ugh, i’m so killing sunoo.”
asa sighed as the two girls reached the bar, immediately ordering strong drinks to help them loosen up.
“ugh, seeing his face just pisses me off,” y/n grumbled.
the bass around them was loud, some weeknd song blasting through the speakers. the atmosphere was lively yet familiar. this had always been their go-to club—the three of them practically had a permanent spot here.
“that jay dude really likes you, huh?” y/n said as they thanked the bartender before taking a sip of their drinks.
“yeah…ig”
“ooo, i sense something.”
y/n shot asa a look that practically screamed tell me everything. asa could only roll her eyes playfully.
“i mean… he’s cute.”
y/n immediately grinned.
“then reply to his texts.”
“you mean the ones where he used ai to generate half of them?”
“at least there’s effort.”
“yeah, i’m good.”
she took another sip of her drink, y/n laughed.
“i mean, it’s still better than a ‘wsg’.”
y/n took a sip of her own drink before adding,
“but players aren’t my type. he’s just hot.”
y/n immediately met asa’s eyes. the amused look on asa’s face made her groan internally.
“you called him hot.”
y/n only shrugged, refusing to look at her.
“and?”
“and that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about park sunghoon.”
“please. i can acknowledge when someone’s attractive without liking them.”
“mhm.”
“i’m serious.”
“sure you are.”
just as they were enjoying their drinks, asa noticed someone staring. more specifically, someone staring at y/n.
“looks like someone’s interested.”
y/n frowned.
“what are you talking about?”
asa subtly pointed toward a guy across the room. sure enough, he was already looking at y/n. when their eyes met, neither of them looked away.
“oh my god,” asa groaned. “enough with the eye-fucking. go talk to him.”
“what? no.”
“y/n.”
“I’m literally sitting right here.”
“and he’s literally staring at you.”
y/n rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink, trying her best to ignore him. unfortunately, asa had other plans. before y/n could react, asa shoved her forward.
“ASA!”
“go!”
y/n shot her one last glare before stumbling in the stranger’s direction, already preparing a list of ways to get revenge on her best friend later.
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n accidentally catches the attention of notorious playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him, shooting his shot proves nearly impossible when y/n absolutely despises players. (y/n and asa are men haters 😹😹 and sunoo is jst questionable cus he folds easily for sunghoon(are we surprised))
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n accidentally catches the attention of notorious playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him, shooting his shot proves nearly impossible when y/n absolutely despises players. (sunghoon is a dick…..y/n is so pissed off w sunghoon it’s so funny)
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n accidentally catches the attention of notorious playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him, shooting his shot proves nearly impossible when y/n absolutely despises players.
02z & sunoo : park sunghoon , park jongseong , sim jaeyun
new character added !
lee heeseung : music producer, song writer
+ additional characters would be added further into the series
────୨ৎ────
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — in which y/n caught the attention of the playboy park sunghoon. unfortunately for him shooting his shot is impossible when y/n despises players.
愛 \( ˆoˆ )/｡ﾟ박종성꒱ ⌗ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⟢ non-idol jay x reader
• jay as your boyfriend #enha bf series ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟
⌗𝒘𝒄: 1k+ ┆ ⌗ hii im back aft 8months >_<… sry guys sch has been so hectic with finals coming up but im so glad to be back! decided to do a bf enha series so please look forward to the other members part !! NOT PROOFREAD !!
Y/N was sprawled across the couch in her oversized pajamas, barely paying attention until jay stepped in front of her.
A small basket dangled from his fingers.
“baby if you can fit anything in this basket, I’ll buy it for you.”
Y/N slowly looked up.
Then she smirked.
And that right there was the moment Jay knew he might’ve made a mistake.
“…why do I feel like I shouldn’t have said that?” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
She sat up, stretching lazily like she had all the time in the world, eyes never leaving his.
“you shouldn’t have,” she said simply.
Jay huffed out a quiet laugh, crossing his arms. “You’re overestimating yourself.”
Y/N stood, brushing past him without another word.
“where are you going?” he called after her, turning slightly.
Silence.
Jay stared at the hallway for a second… then let out a low exhale, running a hand through his hair.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟
Y/N walked beside jay, her hand wrapped tightly around his.
She suddenly stopped.
Jay barely had time to react before she turned, grabbed his collar and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
“watch me.”
And just like that, she was pulling him straight into Olive Young, the tiny basket swinging from her hand.
Jay let out a quiet scoff, but he followed anyway, eyes never leaving her.
This was a mistake.
She moved through the aisles eyes scanning rows of eyeshadow palettes, lip tints, skincare bottles. Every now and then, she’d pick something up, inspect it… then toss it into the basket without a word.
Jay didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush her.
He just watched her, hands in his pockets.
“having fun?” he asked lazily.
Y/N didn’t answer.
Instead, she turned.
Her gaze dropped from his eyes….to his wrist.
Jay noticed immediately.
“…don’t,” he warned, though there was no real bite behind it.
Too late.
She grabbed his arm, tugging his sleeve up without hesitation.
“stay still,” she said, already reaching for a tester.
Jay sighed, glancing down at his arm like it had betrayed him.
“you’re unbelievable.”
But he didn’t pull away.
He just stood there, letting her swipe shades across his skin like he’d already accepted his fate.
“…you’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered.
Jay had somehow ended up carrying her purse on his left shoulder, the tiny basket hooked in the same hand.
His right hand?
Completely occupied… more like being dragged around by Y/N.
His wrist was covered in streaks of color, different shades layered over each other from all the testers she’d tried. At this point, he wasn’t even questioning it anymore he just followed.
“…. you’re really using me like a sample board,” jay muttered under his breath.
She paused suddenly.
Jay almost walked into her.
“what now—”
As she stepped closer and reached up, holding a lip tint between her fingers and before he could finish his sentence, she swiped it across his lips.
“baby, wha—”
“shhh,” she cut him off smoothly. “you brought this on yourself.”
Jay froze for half a second.
Then exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly but there was no real resistance left.
“…..unbelievable.”
“press,” she instructed, tapping his chin lightly.
He smacked his lips together, slow and deliberate, then looked down at her like he was reconsidering every decision that led him here.
Y/N smiled, satisfied, before tossing the tint into the basket.
At this point, it was already overflowing. Jay glanced at it, brows knitting slightly. “that’s not even going to fit anymore, baby—”
She shot him a look that made him stop talking.
“right,” he corrected himself, shifting the basket in his hand. “my bad.”
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟
Y/N was now squatting on the floor, the tiny basket emptied out in front of her. Makeup scattered everywhere, eyebrow pencils, lip tints, eyeliners, small eyeshadow palettes.
All for one last item.
Jay stood a few steps behind her, watching with quiet amusement, arms loosely crossed.
“….you’re really doing all that for one more?” he asked.
No response.
Y/N was fully locked in.
She carefully picked everything up, rearranging the items with intense focus. Turning them, stacking them, shifting things around again and again like it was some kind of life-or-death puzzle but it just didn’t fit.
She tried again…. still didn’t fit.
Jay huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “baby, just leave it. It’s not going to—”
She shot him a glare.
“…right,” he muttered, lifting his hands in surrender.
Silence fell again, except for the quiet rustling of products being moved around…. until.
“…finally.”
Y/N slid the last lip tint perfectly into place. Well…half of the packaging was being squashed. She lifted the basket up with both hands, a proud, smug smile spreading across her face as she turned to him.
Jay looked down at it and a slow grin tugged at his lips.
“…that’s actually kind of impressive.”
She handed it to him like a trophy.
He took it without hesitation then leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.
“good job, baby.”
His hand came up to ruffle her hair lightly before he straightened, already turning toward the counter like this had been decided from the start.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟
By the time they reached the counter, jay set the basket down without a second thought.
Honestly?
He couldn’t even be mad.
Not when his girlfriend was practically glued to his arm, smiling like that soft and satisfied. The cashier started scanning the items one by one, jay didn’t even bother checking the total—just pulled out his black card and swiped.
He simply reached for the bags when they were handed over, taking them with one hand while the other immediately found Y/N’s again, fingers lacing with hers. She leaned into his shoulder as they walked out, gently swinging his arm between.
As they walked back…
She stopped.
Jay slowed, glancing down as her hand slipped out of his.
Y/N looked up at him, lips forming a small pout.
“…now I feel guilty.”
Jay blinked at her for a second… then let out a quiet breath, stepping closer.
“baby,” he said, voice softer now, “you barely put a dent in my bank.”
Her pout didn’t fully disappear.
So he leaned down—
and pressed a quick kiss against her lips.
“don’t start overthinking.”
He took her hand again, giving it a small squeeze.
“just enjoy it.”
And just like that, the pout melted.
^_^ hii I’ve been gone for too long but I promise I will start writing again. This couple trend have been coming up on my fyp way too much… and jay just fits so perfectly. Hope you all enjoyed it and stay tune for more bf enha series. <3
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — Jake chose Fortnite over his girlfriend for 4 hours. Now he’s hard, ignored, and emotionally destroyed. Lesson learned: Never skip skincare night for a Victory Royale.
⌗𝒘𝒄: 3k┆ ⌗𝒕𝒘: smut (MDNI), oral (male rec), suggestive themes, strong language, bratty reader, blue balls(kinda?), references to period sex, jake has zero shame/horny (are we surprised). Lmk if missing any!
⌗ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⟢ idol bf jake x female reader
⌗ 愛 like 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆 i‘ma need your skin, don’t give a fuck where the penis been ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Jake was in her goddamn chair again.
Her chair. The one she picked out in pastel pink and white, the one she assembled herself while watching “Love Island” reruns and drinking strawberry milk. But no, of course, he had claimed it like it was his birthright—just because she traded him the gaming space for unlimited takeout. A fair deal at the time, but she hadn’t known it meant selling her soul.
And what was he doing now?
Fucking Fortnite.
“BROOOOOOOOOO—GET FUCKED!! GET ABSOLUTELY SHITTED ON,” Jake roared into his mic like a frat boy in a Monster energy ad. His stupid-ass GFuel cup rattled beside him while his legs swung like a happy child on a swing.
On her bed, in front of her vanity, YN was trying to live her best life.
Pink bunny headband on? Yes
Face mask freshly spread? Yes
Taylor Swift playing softly in the background? Yes
Peace? NO
Because Ni-ki, over the headphones, screamed at the top of his lungs:
“JAAAAAAKE YOU NOOOOOOB, YOU GOT SNIPED BY A BOT?!”
She blinked at her reflection. Breathed in. Breathed out. Ignored it.
She continued applying her lip mask like a classy bitch, mouthing along to “Cruel Summer.” She had plans tonight. Plans to feel soft and pretty and hydrated, not listen to her boyfriend verbally assault teenagers on the internet.
But then.
Then.
“HEESEUNG YOU CAN’T AIM FOR SHIT, WHY ARE YOU EVEN IN THIS SQUAD?!”
Jake’s voice literally rattled her moisturizer bottles.
That was the final fucking straw.
She ripped off her bunny headband like a WWE wrestler ready to throw down and screamed:
“SIM JAEYUN, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
There was silence for a glorious two seconds.
“…Sorry baby,” he said, innocent. “I’ll lower it—”
He didn’t. He got louder.
Then louder, even louder: “NIKI COVER ME I GOTTA HEAL—AHH SHIT HE’S ON ME!!”
Oh.
Oh okay.
This motherfucker.
YN stood, her feet silent on the floor as she approached, the smirk already curling her lips. If he wanted to play games tonight, then so would she. Just not the kind with pixels and victory royales.
Because she was about to get him good. Distract him so hard he’d never look at a loot box again.
Four hours of gaming and zero hours of her?
Yeah.
Not on her watch.
ᯓ★
She had a plan.
A devious, sinful, girlfriend-of-the-year level plan.
Jake wanted to act like she didn’t exist? Bet.
In the bathroom, she slipped out of her bunny pajamas and into a tight black shorts clinging like a second skin, and that tank top—the one hugging her chest in all the right ways, the one with the slightly loose strap that always made Jake’s brain melt into soup. A peek of her lace bra for extra devastation.
He was gonna suffer.
She peeked out of the bathroom door like a little villain.
And what the fuck.
This man—her boyfriend, her love, the person who once cried over a scratch on her finger—had not moved. Not one fucking inch. He was still hunched over like a shrimp in her damn pink chair, headset on, mouth moving at the speed of light.
“YOU STUPID—NIKI, YOU USED THE RIFT TOO EARLY! I SWEAR TO GOD—”
“HEESEUNG, BACK ME UP I’M GETTING THIRD-PARTIED!!”
Voice louder than ever. Hands flailing. Jake was in full gamer mode.
She stared at him like he just slapped her with a fish.
Then—oh of course—the screen lit up with a glowing banner:
#1 VICTORY ROYALE
The characters on screen, all dressed in Fortnite-fied outfits, were now dancing to their own damn choreo. Their Fortnite emote. The bass of XO thundered through his headphones as they celebrated.
“LET’S GOOOOOOO,” Jake screamed like he just won the lottery. “WE’RE BUILT DIFFERENT!”
Niki was screeching. Heeseung was singing. Jake was basically twerking in her chair out of joy.
YN blinked.
YN sighed.
YN turned her ass right around and went back into the bathroom.
Fine.
She’d really doll herself up now.
If he wasn’t gonna pay attention to her willingly, then she’d make sure he had no fucking choice but to notice—and then suffer when she left him high, dry, and with a very inconvenient… problem to solve.
Because tonight?
The only thing Jake was gonna win was a raging case of blue balls.
ᯓ★
Smacking on her gloss with finality, YN stared hard at her reflection. Just gloss and a little blush. No heavy glam. No effort, really. And yet—she looked hot. Hair tied back, lips glistening, shorts practically painted on, and that smug little sparkle in her eyes.
Jake was about to get humbled.
Hard.
She stepped out, confident, ready to watch his jaw hit the fucking desk.
Instead?
There he was.
Still in the goddamn chair.
Her chair.
Lobby screen on.
Ready for another fucking round.
Mouse clicking like he was solving world hunger.
She blinked.
No.
Nope.
Not today.
She strutted toward him like a lioness to her prey, arms crossed, hips swaying with silent murder vibes.
“Jake,” she called, her voice sweet with venom.
He grunted. Not even a glance. Not even a full syllable.
Just a half-muttered, “Mm, sorry babe… one sec…”
Oh.
One sec?
Not a look. Not a turn. Just vibes of disrespect.
As she stood there, dead silent, she watched his screen—and saw the moment.
Jake’s health bar was flashing red. Panic in the game. Some 12-year-old Fortnite demon was taking him out with a gold pump shotgun.
And so—she did it.
She reached forward… and pressed Exit Match.
Just one little click.
And then—
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—BABE, WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Jake let out a scream so visceral, it could’ve summoned demons. He spun toward her, arms flailing like he just lost custody of his firstborn child.
“You ruined it! I was about to clutch! Heeseung gave me his flopper and everything—OH MY GOD I WAS TOP THREE, BABE, I WAS TOP THREE!!”
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t blink.
Just stared at him dead in the eye.
Unbothered. Lip gloss gleaming. Arms folded.
Jake, mid-rant, stopped.
And then he saw her.
Really saw her.
What the fuck?
His anger? Gone.
His words? Gone.
His breath? Gone.
His dic—yeah, never mind.
All that came out of his mouth was:
“…oh fuck.”
Jake was done.
Like—cooked, fried, and served.
Because what the actual fuck.
Why hadn’t he noticed earlier?
This wasn’t her usual pastel PJs with the little clouds on them. This wasn’t her bunny slippers and fuzzy robe.
No.
She was in that tank top.
Those shorts.
The ones he had specifically told her should be “illegal in this household.” The ones that had him malfunctioning every time she bent over to grab her charger.
And now?
She was standing in front of him, all glossed lips and evil smirks, like the goddamn final boss to his horny little heart.
Jake’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his teeth pulling at the bottom one as his eyes slowly dragged over her body like a man in a trance.
“Babe… you look—fucking hell, you look so hot right now,” he muttered, like he couldn’t believe it himself.
YN scoffed hard, rolling her eyes like it physically hurt her.
“Oh now I’m hot? What happened during the last four hours, huh? Did your mic deafen your common sense?”
Jake had the audacity to look sheepish, his hand rubbing the back of his neck like some rom-com himbo.
“…I was just, y’know… focused.”
“Focused?” she repeated. “Right. On Fortnite. Not your girlfriend.”
She turned to walk away, the shake of her hips pure evil—but he was fast.
Jake caught her wrist, tugging her gently back.
“Babe—c’mon. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just… got carried away. I missed you.”
She narrowed her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but the smirk on her face was already creeping back in. She resisted… or at least made it look like she was.
But they both knew.
Jake was weak for her.
And she? She thrived off it.
He pulled her onto his lap, one arm slipping around her waist while the other slid along her back, warm and possessive. She barely settled before she felt it—his hard-on pressing into her through his sweats.
“Oh my God,” she scoffed again, louder this time, eyes wide. “You’re actually hard? From that? Are you that easy?”
Jake groaned softly, burying his face into her neck. “Can you blame me? Look at you…”
She smirked as he kissed her skin, lips trailing up her jaw, hands gripping her hips like he was anchoring himself to reality. Their lips met—It started soft but only for a second.
Because then Jake kissed her like he was starving.
Teeth. Tongue. A low, muffled groan from his throat as she bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it just enough to make him growl under his breath. His hands roamed—sliding up her tank, gripping at the dip of her waist, tracing the curve of her spine like he wanted to memorize her skin.
She shifted in his lap, slowly grinding down, and God—Jake swore under his breath.
“Shit—baby,” he gasped, holding onto her tighter.
His lips left hers only to trail down her jaw, kissing down to her neck like he had no control. Like her skin was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.
One hand was already sneaking under her shirt, inching higher, fingertips brushing the edge of her bra—
Until she stopped him.
Deadpan.
Eyes locked on his.
“I’m on my period.”
Silence.
Jake blinked once.
Twice.
His jaw dropped open like someone had disconnected his Wi-Fi.
“You’re WHAT?!” he choked, voice breaking like a 13-year-old boy. “You—BABE. You did all that—grinding—and—and—making out—and you’re telling me NOW?!”
She shrugged innocently. “Didn’t think it was relevant… until you started acting like a horny puppy.”
Jake collapsed dramatically into her shoulder with a loud groan. “I’ve never been played like this in my life.”
“Aww,” she cooed mockingly, patting his head. “Poor baby.”
He looked up at her, eyes wide with desperation and zero shame.
“…But you can still help me, right? I mean—it’s not illegal. There’s other ways—”
SLAP.
Right across his arm.
“I am not jerking you off because you ignored me for Fortnite.”
Jake whimpered. “But you’re so hot when you’re mean.”
“Jake, shut up before I make it worse.”
He blinked. “Worse how—?”
She leaned close, lips brushing his ear, voice a soft dangerous whisper.
“Next time, I’ll put on the red lingerie you love… and then go to sleep. Alone.”
Jake’s soul left his body.
And YN?
Well, she’d never felt more powerful in her life.
YN walked off, hips swaying like a taunt, lip gloss still gleaming, shorts still hugging her just right—and Jake?
Jake was following.
Actually, more like stumbling after her. Sweats hanging dangerously low, hair a mess, breath ragged.
And yeah, he was still hard. Painfully. Desperately.
Tragically.
“Baby, please—fuck, you can’t just do that to me,” he groaned, voice wrecked, practically dragging his feet behind her. “You got me standing here with a full-on situation. This is evil. This is, like—relationship abuse.”
She snorted as she reached the fridge, casually pulling out a bottle of water like her boyfriend wasn’t behind her dying a slow, horny death.
He leaned against the counter, palming himself shamelessly like a man with zero pride left.
“I’ll do anything,” Jake said, eyes wild. “I’m literally begging here. Mouth, hand, I don’t care. You could breathe in my direction and I’d probably—fuck—please.”
YN turned slowly, sipping her water, completely unbothered. “You should’ve thought of that four hours ago, when I was putting on my face mask and you were yelling at Ni-ki for stealing your kill.”
Jake groaned like she stabbed him. “Ni-ki did steal my kill.”
“And now you want me to breathe on it now?” she asked, voice low, sultry. “Damn, Fortnite really got you down bad.”
“Fortnite didn’t do this,” Jake snapped, eyes dropping to her body for the hundredth time. “You did. Walking around like a fucking fantasy with those shorts and that top—baby, I swear to god, I’m one second away from dropping to my knees and praying for release.”
“Not my problem, lover boy.”
And then—then she dropped to her knees.
Right there in front of him, like a literal fantasy scene. Jake’s brain short-circuited on the spot.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, watching her fingers toy with the drawstring of his sweats. His breath caught as her fingertips brushed low, eyes locked on his while she tilted her head—smirking.
“Baby…” he whispered, hands already tangling in her hair.
She tugged the waistband slightly, just enough to expose the waistband of his boxers, just enough to see his hips twitch beneath her touch. Her lips curled into a smirk as she looked up at him.
He looked destroyed. Jaw clenched. Knuckles white on the counter. Eyes glazed over like he was trying so hard not to lose it.
“Babe,” he croaked. “Please.”
And then—
She stood up.
Looked him dead in the eyes.
And said, “Nah.”
Jake stared at her like he just got divorced mid-proposal.
“WHAT?!”
She winked, skipping past him like a Disney villain in booty shorts. “You got hands, baby. Use ’em.”
“Wait, wait—baby, please, I’m actually in pain. Like real, physical pain. My dick thinks we’re in a hostage situation.”
She giggled. Actually giggled.
And that sound alone made him throb harder.
Jake dropped his head against the fridge.
“I swear to God, I’ve never been played like this in my life.”
And that night, Jake learned two things:
1. Ignoring your girlfriend for four hours is never a good idea.
2. And cold showers? Do nothing.
ᯓ★
# 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆 — MDNI (18+)
Jake was barely holding himself together, every breath coming out shaky and thick with need. His hands trembled at her waist, eyes dark and desperate. “Baby, please… I’m this close to losing my goddamn mind.”
YN’s fingers slid under the waistband of his sweats, tracing just enough to make him shiver. “You want me to fix you, don’t you?”
He groaned, biting his lip hard, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth brushed against his hip, teasing at the edge of his waistband.
“Yeah,” he rasped. “Please. I need you… I need you to fucking take care of this.”
Her lips curled into a wicked smile before she dipped lower, tongue flicking teasingly over his skin as she slowly, deliberately peeled back the fabric.
His body tensed, every nerve ending alive as he trembled beneath her. His low, needy moans filled the room, his grip tightening, voice breaking with raw want.
“Fuck, babe… harder, please. Don’t fucking stop,” he begged, voice hoarse but urgent, eyes dark and desperate.
YN smiled against his cock, taking him even deeper to drive him wild, letting him unravel under her touch, drawing out every shudder and gasp.
Jake’s head fell back, a low, guttural groan ripping from his throat. “Fuck, babe… yeah—just like that.”
Her mouth moved with expert patience, warm and slick, every touch and flick designed to unravel him completely.
His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as his moans grew louder, desperate and raw. “God, you’re killing me. Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”
Her hands pressed firmly against his hips, steadying him as he trembled, breath catching in ragged gasps.
“Shit, yeah—right there,” he panted, voice breaking with need. “I’m gonna—fuck!”
With a strangled cry, Jake lost himself, his whole body shuddering as she worked him through every pulse and wave of release.
Jake was still breathless, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead as he leaned down, brushing YN’s cheek with a thumb—gentle, affectionate, eyes full of that stupidly soft post-release gaze.
“You did so good, baby…” he murmured, voice low and wrecked. “Like… Olympic gold medal level good.”
YN rolled her eyes, still catching her own breath, lips glossy and smug. “Yeah, well. Maybe next time don’t ignore me for four goddamn hours.”
He brushed his fingers along YN’s jaw with the kind of softness that almost made her forget he’d just spent four hours screaming about Fortnite.
“You’re literally… the love of my life,” he whispered, voice hoarse and still riding the high. “Like, if I died right now, I’d go peacefully. Possibly with a boner, but peacefully.”
YN raised an unimpressed brow. “Don’t start.”
“I’m serious,” he grinned, nuzzling into her neck. “I think my soul left my body. You gave me closure. You should charge for this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Romeo. Go take a cold shower.”
But Jake just hummed, dragging his fingers down her arm slowly. “Mmm… or… hear me out…”
“Nope.”
“What if,” he said, lips brushing her ear, “we stopped letting a tiny biological inconvenience get in the way of love? I’m talking… spiritual bonding. Ritualistic passion. Like ancient tribes did before tampons.”
YN pulled back slowly, blinking. “I swear to God, if this is about period sex—”
“I’m just saying,” Jake said, voice dipping low, lips dangerously close to her ear, “if it ever… drips or stains or, y’know, gets a little messy…”
She pulled back slowly. “Jake.”
“I don’t care.”
“Jake.”
He smirked. “I’ll clean the sheets. I’ll wash ‘em twice. I’ll throw out the mattress, baby—I’ll buy us a whole new bed. Hell, I’ll get it custom made. Blood and cumproof.”
YN stared, deadpan.
“A bed,” she repeated, “that’s blood and cumproof.”
“For us,” he said proudly, like he was pitching a Shark Tank idea. “Sturdy. Memory foam. Possibly water-resistant. And red sheets, so you won’t even notice the—”
She threw her hair tie at him so hard it snapped off his forehead.
“You’re unwell.”
Jake winced but laughed anyway. “Tell me that’s not the most romantic shit you’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, it’s something,” she muttered, walking away. “Something I’m reporting to the authorities.”
He followed her down the hallway like a puppy. “So that’s a soft yes? Medium yes?”
YN didn’t look back. “That’s a go sleep in your Fortnite chair.”
Jake groaned. “I’m not afraid of a little bodily fluid! That’s love!”
⌗ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — first time writing smut….. I tried, I really did sorry if it wasn’t that good cus I deadass dk how to write smut. Do you guys prefer the longer fics or just short ones like this? Lmk >_<. Thank you for reading <3
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — Ni-ki walked in for ink, not infatuation. It was supposed to be quick—just a tattoo. But the way YN’s hands gripped his skin, the way her eyes lingered a second too long, it all twisted into something dangerous. Neither of them planned it, but the tension crackled—taunting, forbidden, suffocating. Skin met ink… and suddenly, they both wanted more.
⌗𝒘𝒄: 4k ┆ ⌗𝒕𝒘: fluff(ish)?, explicit language, yn is a tease, enhypen dorms being chaotic(what’s new). lmk if missing any ! NOT PROOFREAD
Seoul’s night air kissed against his skin—cool, crisp, and irritatingly refreshing. Ni-ki stood there, hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring up at the familiar sign. He swore he had no reason to be here. The rational part of him knew it—itchiness was normal, tattoos healed like that… but the irrational part? Yeah, that side made his feet move anyway.
The shop looked exactly as he remembered it. Dim, intimate, laced with deep amber LED lights tracing the corners of the ceiling. R&B thumped low through the speakers, the type that crept under your skin and settled in your bones. Ink bottles lined the black shelves, neatly labeled, tattoo machines resting like weapons of art on the counters. The faint smell of disinfectant mixed with that lingering trace of antiseptic and ink—a scent he didn’t realize he liked until now.
Pushing open the door, the warmth of the shop wrapped around him, and so did the pair of eyes staring at him from behind the front desk. YN’s coworker blinked, leaning forward, clearly not expecting Seoul’s idol to be back so soon.
Ni-ki cleared his throat, fighting the awkward lump crawling up his chest. “Uh… hey,” he started, fingers flexing by his sides. “I… think something’s wrong with my tattoo. Kinda itchy? Maybe… infected?”
A slow blink. Then, an obvious once-over. “Didn’t see your name in the list.”
He scratched the back of his neck, lips twitching in a half-grin. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t book. Was just… passing by.”
A pause, then a slow grin crept onto the coworker’s lips. “You’re lucky. YN wrapped up her last client thirty minutes ago.”
His heart kicked up, steady rhythm picking up pace before he could stop it.
“Go ahead,” they waved, “she’s still in the back.”
Ni-ki exhaled through his nose, pushing through the familiar hallway again, footsteps heavier than before.
And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about the tattoo at all.
The room looked exactly how he remembered it—warm, low-lit, LED strips still casting that deep, inviting hue against matte black walls. That same soft R&B beat still pulsed through the speakers, smooth and slow like it was made for tension.
And there she was.
Same stance. Same back turned. Same fucking chaos inside his chest.
Except… this time, she wasn’t alone.
Ni-ki’s footsteps slowed the second he saw her. She was talking—laughing, actually—with some guy. A little older-looking. Broad shoulders. Familiar posture. And way too fucking close.
His hand was resting on her shoulder, comfortably. Like it belonged there.
Ni-ki blinked.
No fucking way. Who the hell was that?
He tried telling himself it didn’t matter. Friend. Client. Co-worker, maybe. Could be anyone. But the way the guy was standing next to her? That relaxed kind of closeness? Yeah—Ni-ki fucking hated it.
The guy noticed him first, eyebrows slightly raising before nudging Yn’s attention over.
She turned—and for a moment, her expression cracked with clear surprise.
Like she wasn’t expecting to see him. Like he wasn’t supposed to come back this soon.
Fuck.
The mystery guy gave her a quiet “later” and went in for a hug.
Ni-ki had to look away.
Jaw clenched. Hands shoved into his hoodie. He didn’t like this feeling. Didn’t like whatever the hell was twisting in his gut. And most of all, he hated that he had no claim—no reason to even feel it.
Once the guy was gone, the air felt a little lighter. But only a little.
Yn turned back to him, arms crossing loosely as she leaned against the counter. “Did something go wrong?” she asked, head tilted slightly. Casual. Like she couldn’t tell his entire mood had flipped upside down.
He shook his head, playing it cool. “Nah. Just got itchy. Thought it might be best to get it checked.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes scanned him for a beat too long. “Well,” she sighed, pushing herself off the counter, “have a seat, pretty boy. Same chair as last time.”
Ni-ki dropped into the leather seat, jaw tight and heart pounding.
Yeah. Same fucking chair.
But nothing felt the same at all.
The hoodie slid off his frame, fabric rustling softly as he peeled it away, revealing the inked ribs beneath. Niki couldn’t lie—his heart was fucking pounding. And it wasn’t from the tattoo.
Yn’s gaze flickered down, her fingers already gloved as she leaned in to inspect the redness. “This is normal, pretty boy. It’s healing fine,” she muttered, voice smooth, fingers cool and skilled as she dabbed antiseptic along the irritated skin.
Niki swallowed thickly. Her touch wasn’t supposed to feel this good.
She kept working, soft humming under her breath, swaying a little to the rhythm of the R&B pulsing through the speakers. But his eyes—yeah, they were glued to her. Tracking every little movement. Every time she leaned forward, every stretch of her wrist, every subtle inhale she took.
She felt it.
Her head tilted, lips curling into something sly without even looking up.
“What’s going on, pretty boy?” she asked, tone dipped in amusement.
Niki’s jaw flexed. He looked down, fidgeting with the strings of his sweatpants, hesitant.
“Spill it,” she pressed, more teasing now as her hands worked effortlessly, rubbing aftercare over his tattoo in slow, circular motions that had no right being that distracting.
He hated how sheepish his voice sounded.
“That guy… who was he?”
Her hands paused.
His heart nearly fucking stopped.
The weight of the air between them changed in a split second—thick, suffocating, hot.
Then she moved. Slow. Intentional. Leaning in, until her face was dangerously close to his—lips barely inches apart, breath brushing over his cheek, her gloved hands braced on either side of him, boxing him in the chair.
Niki gripped the seat handle like it was the only thing keeping him from combusting.
Her voice dropped, laced with sweet venom. “What’s wrong… jealous already?” Her smirk was wicked, dragging her gaze across his face, watching his ears burn and his jaw tighten.
Before he could sputter out an excuse, she leaned in just a little more, whispering against the shell of his ear. “Relax. That was my brother. Building owner.”
Niki blinked. Brain buffering.
Wait—brother?
“Shit,” he muttered, sinking back against the chair, heat flooding his cheeks. He’d never felt this stupid in his life.
Yn pulled back, grin smug and knowing, grabbing the last of her things while Niki buried his face in his hands.
“Cute,” she teased, walking away like she didn’t just fry every single nerve in his body.
Yeah, no—he was fucked.
The moment she stepped away, casually tossing her gloves into the trash bin and wiping down her station like she didn’t just have him spiraling into cardiac arrest, Niki tugged his hoodie on with shaky hands.
He was still internally combusting from that whole “that was my brother” revelation.
But then came the silence.
And he realized—if he didn’t do it now, he’d leave again. And maybe never get another shot.
“Be a man. Just ask for her fucking number. It’s not that hard. You survived a rib tattoo. You can do this.”
He inhaled. Took one step forward.
Paused.
Turned right back around, facing the door.
“Never mind. Fuck it. She’s too hot. It’s over.”
Then:
“FUCK IT.”
He spun around, damn near marched to her corner like he was going to war.
“Hey—uh, wait,” he blurted, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, nerves swallowing his voice.
Yn turned slightly, brow raised with that amused-you’re-back-again-already? look, lips curved like she already knew what was coming.
Niki’s voice cracked halfway through. “Can I… get your number?”
Silence.
Dead. Fucking. Silence.
She stared at him, unreadable.
Expression flat. Almost bored.
He swore the oxygen in his lungs evaporated.
Then—her lips twitched. Slowly stretching into that teasing, smug little smile he was so not prepared for.
“Took you long enough, pretty boy,” she purred, grabbing her phone from the table and tossing it his way. “I was starting to think the rib pain made you chicken out.”
Niki fumbled the phone mid-air like an idiot before catching it, biting back a laugh. “You’re evil.”
“I’m honest,” she replied, leaning on the edge of the counter, chin resting on her hand. “So? You gonna put your name as ‘shy tattoo virgin’ or you tryna impress me?”
He rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, thumbs typing fast. “Already impressed you. I survived.”
“You whined,” she teased.
“You flirted.”
“You stared.” She shot back, now full-on grinning.
He just chuckled, tapping her phone to save the contact under his name with a small smiley face. “Riki. No emojis. I’m trying to be cool.”
“Too late, smiley boy,” she smirked, grabbing her phone back. Their fingers brushed. His heart? Fucking gone.
As he made his way toward the exit, she called out behind him, voice smooth and smug,
“Text me if it gets itchy again… or if you miss me.”
He turned around, walking backward now, hiding his blush.
“Already does.”
She laughed—and damn, he’d replay that sound in his head all night.
As he finally stepped outside, the cool Seoul air hitting his face, he realized he was smiling.
Way too fucking hard.
Like, grinning like an idiot level hard.
But he didn’t care.
Because for the first time in forever—this shit felt good.
ᯓ★
The room was dim—lit only by the soft blue hue of his screen and the subtle pulsing of the LED strip behind his headboard. The low hum of old-school R&B played quietly from his playlist, the kind that melted into the night and blurred the edges of his thoughts.
Riki was sprawled on his bed, hoodie half on, thumb mindlessly scrolling through some edits fans posted—until ding.
A notification banner slid across the top of his screen.
And his whole body shot upright.
yn 🕷️
“Forgot about me, pretty boy?”
He nearly dropped the phone.
“Holy shit.”
He hadn’t texted her yet. Why hadn’t he texted her yet?
He fumbled like a man possessed, typing faster than his thoughts could catch up.
“hell no”
“i was just—”
“thinking abt you actually lol”
Smooth. Real smooth.
Her reply was almost instant.
yn 🕷️
“thinking abt how hard u stared at me or the way u nearly melted when i touched ur v-line?”
Riki slammed his phone against his chest, staring at his ceiling with wide eyes, trying not to scream into his hoodie.
“you are insane.”
He texted back.
“you’re not normal.”
“why are u like this.”
yn 🕷️
“ur cute when u pretend u don’t love it.”
Riki could feel his soul trying to leave his body. He was burning under the blanket even though the AC was on blast.
And then—fuck it.
“can i take you out?”
yn 🕷️
“bout time.”
His lips curled before he could stop them. Heart hammering.
“it has to be late tho… less fans around.”
yn 🕷️
“i figured. secret rendezvous with the pretty boy. i’m in.”
He stared at that screen for a good five minutes after she said goodnight, rereading every word like a lovesick idiot before finally switching off his phone.
Now he was just lying there.
Staring up at the ceiling.
Smiling like some high school loser who just asked his crush out for the first time.
Because he was.
And he loved every bit of it.
ᯓ★
The day finally arrived—first date energy radiating through the walls of the dorm, and Niki? He was a disaster.
His bed looked like it had been through a tornado. Hoodies, tees, jeans, jackets, even the occasional leather thrown in, all fighting for dominance on the mattress while Niki stood in front of his mirror, trying on yet another fit. Shirt tucked, untucked, beanie, no beanie, maybe a cap? He tugged on the hem, scowled, switched outfits again.
Lowkey practicing his smile like an idiot. Testing his nonchalant stare, then trying to smirk—yeah, fail. A full fucking fail.
Right until Jake barged in unannounced, paused mid-step, and just… stared.
Ni-ki froze—mid-bite on his bottom lip, head tilted like he was trying to serve effortless model vibes, one hand casually shoved in his pocket like he was posing for a cologne ad and both of them just… eye contact. Brutal.
Jake blinked slowly, fighting a grin.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“Get out,” Niki deadpanned, grabbing the nearest pillow and launching it into Jake’s face with deadly precision. The door slammed shut, and Niki stood there, muttering curses under his breath, cheeks on fire.
Eventually, after what felt like a whole fashion week runway meltdown, he settled on a fit. Black oversized jeans, oversized grey sweater, his chrome hearts chain peeking through, black cap, and fresh sneakers. Spritzed cologne—not too much, just enough—and checked the mirror one last time.
Yeah… passable. Kinda hot. Maybe.
By the time he emerged from his room, his hyungs were at the dinner table halfway through their meal.
“Yah…” Jay’s voice echoed first, eyes squinting.
Heeseung put his chopsticks down, sniffing the air dramatically. “Bro. You smell like a walking cologne ad.”
Jungwon tilted his head, brows raising. “Where are you going?”
Niki pretended to be cool. Hands in his pockets, nonchalant shrug. “Out.”
It didn’t work. They all stared harder.
Jake leaned over, practically snorting. “Out? As in… out-out?”
And here they go.
“Who is she?”
“Idol? Non-idol?”
“How old is she?”
“Does she have friends?”
“Wait—does she know you fake the whole nonchalant thing?”
The youngest tried to escape, but Sunoo was too quick, flinging a grape at his head while the others drowned him in loud-ass brotherly advice about respect and eye contact and holding doors open—as if any of them had any successful dating experience.
Jungwon, being the ‘leader,’ was the only one who toned it down, asking softly, “Is she nice at least?”
Niki shoved his shoes on, zipping up his hoodie, practically bolting for the door. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“USE PROTECTION—”
“SHUT UP.”
Door slammed. Blessed silence. Niki stood outside, exhaled deeply, hand dragging down his face. But underneath the mask, a grin was tugging at his lips. Cap pulled low, earphones in, R&B flowing.
ᯓ★
The ramen shop smelled like warm broth and comfort—quiet, dimly lit, tucked in the far end of Hongdae, just how Niki remembered it. A soft hum of jazz played low through the speakers, blending with the clinks of chopsticks and faint murmurs of other customers. Niki stepped in, tugging his cap lower and adjusting his mask. The shop was nearly empty-just a couple seated far in the back, and... there.
There she was.
Yn was already seated in the corner booth, phone in hand, twirling her straw in a glass of iced green tea. Her coat was off, hair soft and slightly tousled, and her skin practically glowing under the warm lighting.
Be a man. You’re Nishimura Riki. You’ve performed in front of stadiums. Say hi.
Deep breath. No going back.
He walked up, confident in every step (even though his palms were slightly sweaty), and slid into the seat across from her.
And yeah… he was done for. She looked up and smiled.
“Hey,” she said like they’d been doing this for years.
Niki blinked again, not speaking. His brain? Total white noise.
She giggled, leaned forward, and—snap! Fingers right in front of his face. “Earth to pretty boy.”
He coughed, snapping out of it. “Sorry. Just… zoned out.”
“Yeah,” she smirked, settling back. “I could tell. That or I looked so good you forgot how to breathe.”
He didn’t even deny it.
They placed their orders, and when she asked why he picked this place, he didn’t expect himself to actually say it, but it came out softer than he intended.
“I used to come here when I missed home. Back when I was still a trainee,” he explained, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin. “Reminds me of Okayama.”
She tilted her head, smile fading into something gentler. “That’s sweet… homesickness ramen.”
He let out a chuckle at that, cheeks pink.
The ramen finally arrived, steam curling through the air as he slipped his mask down and grabbed his chopsticks. He was just about to take his first bite when—
She moved.
Not just leaned—moved.
She got up and slid right into the seat next to him, not across. Their thighs are almost brushing. Niki froze mid-noodle lift, blinked at her in confusion.
“Uh…?”
Yn didn't even blink, casually resting her chin on her hand as she turned fully to face him, legs crossed beneath the table. "Protecting you," she said sweetly. "Your side profile's in full view from the door. You're cute, but not leak-a-whole-dating-scandal cute. So I got you.”
“We’re in a corner.”
“Still,” she said, resting her chin on her hand now. “You’re a pretty boy. Someone’s bound to recognize that jawline.”
He almost choked.
She was staring at him like he was dessert, her face propped on her palm, lips curling at the corners. Her eyes scanned him slowly, trailing from his lashes to the tiny mole near his cheek to the chain peeking under his collar.
"Besides," she added, voice lower, more playful, "this seat gives me a better view."
He looked back at her-and damn, her face was too close. She was practically studying him, eyes flicking down to his lips for a second before meeting his gaze again. The chin-on-hand position only made her look more amused, more smug, more dangerous.
"Y-You're so flirty," he muttered, picking up his chopsticks, trying to focus on anything but the heat crawling up his neck.
"Am I?" Yn tilted her head innocently, not moving an inch.
Niki cleared his throat and took a bite of his ramen-anything to avoid combusting right there in that damn booth.
But she was still watching him.
And he was still painfully aware of her thigh pressing against his.
Yeah... the tension?
It was still fucking there.
Niki was mid-bite, brain still short-circuiting from her being this close when—
“Open up,” she said casually.
He blinked. “Huh?”
She held up a piece of karaage chicken with her chopsticks, hovering it right in front of his face. And not even giving him time to argue before saying, “It’s so good, you gotta try it.”
In her other hand? A second piece, already shoved into her own mouth, cheeks puffed out like a hamster. She made a satisfied mmph! sound, nodding dramatically like she was experiencing a religious moment.
Niki deadass short-circuited again.
She looked too fucking adorable.
Cheeks full, eyes bright, and lips glistening from the sauce—and what the fuck she was already feeding him?
He didn’t even process it before his mouth opened on command. Reflex. He bit the piece she held out and chewed slowly while she chewed too, both of them facing each other, chewing like a domestic-ass couple in their third year of dating.
The chicken hit—warm, crunchy, savory—but Niki couldn’t even focus on the taste.
He was watching her.
The way her lips curled in satisfaction. The way she lightly fanned her mouth because it was too hot. The way her earrings swayed every time she moved. And then she looked at him, eyes still wide with her mouth stuffed, like wasn’t it so good?
And yeah… he was fucking gone.
Who gave her the right to tattoo like a badass and eat like an anime character in the same breath?
He could feel it—this heavy, embarrassing, full-body kind of crush creeping in fast. His brain screamed don’t fall too fast, idiot but his heart? Already nose-diving.
He watched her chew, cheeks full, eyes closed dramatically while humming a little in appreciation.
He swallowed his bite and muttered under his breath.
“Fuck…”
“Huh?” she asked with a mouth full.
Niki looked away, ears warm. “Nothing.”
But his eyes dropped again. Right to her lips.
He didn’t want to kiss her.
Okay, maybe a little.
But mostly? He wanted to squish her cheeks. With both hands. Just hold her adorable face hostage.
This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.
He poked at his bowl, hiding the smile crawling on his face.
He was so, so, so screwed.
ᯓ★
The date ended way too fast.
The night breeze in Seoul was crisp, the streets quieter now as they walked side by side. The occasional sound of a car or someone’s laughter echoing from a block away filled the silence. It was the kind of calm you didn’t get often—especially not in their world.
YN’s apartment building wasn’t far, but they took their time. Slowly walking. Silently hoping the route would stretch just a little longer.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said, nudging his arm lightly with her elbow. “Though I told you to let me pay for my half. What are you, rich or something?”
Niki let out a small laugh, cheeks flushed. “A little.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically, making him laugh harder. Her annoyed face was way too cute to be taken seriously. “Next time, I’m fighting you for the bill.”
“Promise?” he teased, hands in his pockets as he watched her.
“Deadass.”
But then… her voice softened.
“I saw the comments about your tattoo,” she said suddenly, eyes still on the road.
Niki’s heart dropped. Not in fear—but in that heavy, sinking way where you already knew what was coming.
He sighed deeply. “Yeah… of course you did.”
Her silence let him speak.
“I knew some people wouldn’t like it,” he muttered. “Knew they’d say it ruined my image, that it was ‘too much.’ I mean… fuck, I’m used to it at this point. Everyone’s always got something to say about what I wear, how I dance, who I talk to.”
His jaw tightened. “But this—my body? My skin? That’s mine. This was for me. Not for a concept. Not for a comeback. Just… something I wanted.”
There was a pause.
Then her voice—steady, quiet, but firm.
“I respect you for that. So much.”
He turned, eyes meeting hers under the streetlight. She meant it. He could feel it in the way she looked at him—no idol pedestal, no filters, no expectations. Just him.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like ‘Nishimura Riki, 4th Generation Dance Prodigy.’
He felt… normal. Human. Real.
“Thank you,” he said, voice low.
She smiled, brushing some hair from her face. “You’re kinda hot when you speak your truth, not gonna lie.”
“Oh my god,” he groaned, laughing as he shoved her shoulder playfully. “Way to ruin the moment.”
“Just saying,” she shrugged, grinning.
They talked the whole way to her unit. About literally everything—fandom brainrot, TikTok spirals, dumb trends, conspiracy theories about food dye and how cartoons shaped their childhoods. It was chaotic. But comfortable. And it felt like them.
Finally, they reached her building. Awkward smiles. Lingering silence.
“Tonight was fun,” YN said, adjusting her hoodie sleeves. “Simple. But kinda perfect.”
Niki nodded. “Yeah. I needed this.”
They stood there, still not quite ready to go.
“You better take me out again, pretty boy,” she added with a smirk, finger poking his chest lightly. “Or I’m blocking you.”
He smiled back, heart doing literal flips. “Guess I have no choice then.”
But then—her voice turned softer. Genuine.
“Really, though… thank you. For finding time for me. I know you’re busy. But it meant a lot.”
His throat tightened. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound like a confession. So instead, he just smiled and nodded.
As he turned to leave, footsteps echoed behind him.
“Riki.”
He turned—barely in time to see her run right into him.
And before he could even process it—
Her lips brushed his cheek.
Warm. Quick. Gentle. Real.
He froze.
Fucking hell.
He didn’t even move as she pulled away, laughing under her breath while heading back toward her door.
“Night, pretty boy,” she called.
The door clicked shut.
And Niki just stood there.
Hand slowly rising to touch his cheek.
He stood there for a good ten seconds, brain buffering. Then again. Replay. Replay. Replay.
He walked away. Correction: he floated.
Under the Seoul night sky, a stupid smile spread under his mask, heart hammering in his chest.
He knew the risks. He knew the chaos it would bring if this ever got out.
But in that moment?
He was happy.
And that’s all that fucking mattered.
⌗ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — finally a part two! last part how do we feel…. Just saw a tt of niki’s second rumoured tattoo on one of his wrist? If it’s true….. goodbye- he’s so fine it hurts. My next fic is lowkey cooking stay tuned….. hope you all enjoy it, ty for reading !
⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — Ni-ki walked in for ink, not infatuation. It was supposed to be quick—just a tattoo. But the way YN’s hands gripped his skin, the way her eyes lingered a second too long, it all twisted into something dangerous. Neither of them planned it, but the tension crackled—taunting, forbidden, suffocating. Skin met ink… and suddenly, they both wanted more.
⌗𝒘𝒄: 3.1k ┆ ⌗𝒕𝒘: heavy sexual tension, slow burn, explicit language, sensual but non-sexual touching, detailed tattooing process (needles, skin prep, pain), mentions of physical pain and reactions. lmk if missing any !
⌗ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⟢ idol niki x tattooist reader
The room pulsed with a quiet, sultry energy—dim lighting casting soft shadows on deep charcoal walls, faint gold accents glinting from picture frames filled with past inked masterpieces. The sharp, clean bite of disinfectant lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of ink and the faintest hint of burnt sage from a candle left flickering on the corner shelf.
The soft thrum of Make It to the Morning by PARTYNEXTDOOR bled through the speakers, low and smooth, adding to the late-night haze.
YN moved in rhythm, latex gloves snapping off her wrists, sterilized tools clinking softly as she wiped down the station. Her shoulders relaxed after a long day, mind slipping into autopilot—until her co-worker’s voice cut through the haze.
“Hey, your last client’s coming in soon… Riki.”
Her brows twitched. Riki? The name rolled around her head, faintly familiar, but distant. Kpop maybe? Some pretty boy with too much money and not enough pain tolerance. YN shrugged it off, uncaring. She wasn’t here for idols or fanservice—she was here for skin, ink, and the quiet satisfaction of bringing someone’s story to life.
Rolling her sleeves up, she set out fresh needles, prepped the stencil paper, and waited—oblivious to the storm about to walk through her door.
Ni-ki tugged his hoodie lower, ignoring the faint sting of Seoul’s summer evening heat. Jake had been the first to recommend this spot—talking it up like it was a hidden gem. Top-rated, private, no bullshit… and apparently, with a ridiculously attractive tattooist. Not the point, Ni-ki muttered to himself, fingers fidgeting with his phone. He was here for one thing: to finally get inked. Fans would scream, debates would trend, but he was so far past caring it wasn’t even funny. His skin, his choice—no approval needed.
He shoved those thoughts down as his feet finally stopped in front of the shop. With one deep breath, he pushed the door open.
A cool rush of air greeted him, way chillier than expected. Inside, the world shifted—walls adorned with dark, moody art, sleek matte black counters, splashes of crimson and gold, and the sharp clean smell of antiseptic and fresh ink thick in the air. The faint bass of an R&B track hummed in the background, matching the lazy buzz of a tattoo gun somewhere behind the walls. It was lowkey… his type of vibe.
“Riki?” a voice called from the counter, snapping him from his daze.
He looked up, greeted by YN’s coworker already motioning him over, walking through the usual rundown—what design, placement, payment, all the formalities. Ni-ki kept it short, direct, and before long, they pointed him toward the right.
“To the room on the right, she’s waiting for you.”
She? His jaw flexed, the tiniest hitch in his step before he headed in, unknowingly stepping straight into trouble.
Ni-ki stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The room felt different—heavier, warmer, like the air itself was watching him. The low thrum of R&B filtered through sleek wall speakers, LED lights pulsing faintly in muted crimson and deep blue, making the space feel intimate… dangerous.
At the center, YN moved with quiet focus, back to him as she adjusted fresh needles and lined up her machine. She didn’t even glance his way when she spoke—voice smooth, a little tired from the long shift.
“Take a seat. Couch’s right there.”
Ni-ki swallowed, jaw tightening as he drifted to the leather couch. He let his bag fall beside him, fingers fidgeting on his knee while his gaze drifted—definitely not to her, just… the room. Yeah, the room.
The vibe was sick—rich walls, subtle artwork, the soft scent of ink and leather, everything drenched in low lighting. But his eyes kept pulling back to her. The way her cropped top lifted slightly when she leaned forward, revealing a glimpse of dark ink curling over her ribs—a rose. Delicate, bold. And just beneath it, a black-inked vine trailing down her spine, the tail end of something bigger—fuck, a back tattoo.
His weakness. Well, one of them.
Not the point. Ni-ki blinked hard, redirecting his stare to the framed flash pieces on the wall. Didn’t work. His focus stayed magnetized to the curve of her waist, the way her shoulder blades flexed beneath the soft fabric, the subtle scrape of her rings tapping against the metal tray.
And then she turned.
Fuck.
The moment their eyes met, time stalled. His body locked up, throat dry. He hadn’t expected her to look like that—soft but sharp, casual but captivating, the kind of attractive that wasn’t manufactured, just natural and devastating.
Her brows quirked up slightly, like something clicked behind her gaze. Recognition, maybe. Not the ‘fangirl’ kind—more like, ah… so that’s who you are.
She didn’t say it. Didn’t need to. YN kept it professional, but there was a flicker in her eyes, like she’d just realized she was about to tattoo someone very known… but she couldn’t care less about the fame.
Ni-ki inhaled slow through his nose, chest tight.
This was gonna be a long session.
YN shuffled through the stack of stencil papers on the tray, fingers grazing over the crisp outlines she’d printed just minutes ago. Clean, sharp linework. She pinched the edge of the sheet between her fingers, holding it up to the light to check the detailing, lips quirking.
“One of one?” Her voice cut through the haze, curious and just a little amused.
Ni-ki blinked, rubbing the back of his neck before letting out a quiet, awkward laugh. “Yeah… uh… I kinda… drew it,” he admitted, words tumbling out like a half-confession, half-deflection. “Wanted something… mine, you know?”
YN’s gaze lingered on the lines, genuinely impressed as she traced a finger near the design’s edge. “You’ve got clean flow… I’ll give you that.” Her lips curled in a grin, something playful tugging at her tone as she met his eyes. “Didn’t expect an idol to pull decent linework. Respect.”
Ni-ki’s ears warmed, tension folding deeper into the room as she stepped closer, hands fluid, confident. “So… placement?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Rib,” Ni-ki answered without hesitation, tapping his side lightly.
YN’s laugh cracked the tension—rich, amused, but still laced with something wicked underneath. “Oh, you’re cocky,” she teased, rolling her wrist as she set the stencil paper down. “Sure you wanna do ribs, rookie? Shit hurts like a fucking bitch.”
He chuckled softly, shoulders loosening, and for a moment, it felt easy… until her fingers brushed against his side, prepping the skin, touch light but precise. Ni-ki glanced down, curiosity winning over his nerves. “Yours… on your rib,” he motioned toward her side, “did it hurt?”
YN’s lips quirked, glancing down at the dark bloom of the rose peeking from under her shirt. “Pain tolerance’s decent,” she mused, voice lower, smoother, “but ribs? It’ll humble you real quick.”
Her words were casual… until her eyes dragged, just a second too long, from his face down to his covered frame—hoodie and shirt still clinging to his body. She clicked her tongue, stepping back just enough for the teasing grin to cut through.
“Gonna need you to take it off.”
Ni-ki blinked, stupidly. “What—?”
YN’s grin stretched wider, head cocking to the side. “Can’t tattoo you if you’re dressed, pretty boy,” she drawled, gaze sharp, tone smooth as velvet with a bite underneath. “Need skin to… work my magic.”
Ni-ki opened his mouth, closed it. Swallowed.
Yeah… he was in trouble.
Ni-ki peeled off his hoodie first, then tugged his shirt over his head in one swift motion—but it didn’t feel swift. It felt agonizingly slow under her gaze. He’d been shirtless in dance studios, at shoots, even on stage, but here… here he felt shy. Exposed in a completely different way.
YN didn’t even pretend to look away—her lips tugged into a grin, eyes dropping instantly to trace over the lines of his torso, sharp jaw tilting just slightly as her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip.
“Damn…” she hummed, eyes glinting, voice slick as honey. “You work out, pretty boy?”
Ni-ki nearly choked on air, swallowing hard and immediately regretting it when she bit back a smirk. Was this normal? Did tattoo artists flirt like this? Because it was doing things to his brain—bad things. His mouth opened, but all he could manage was a quiet, breathless, “Uh… I guess… yeah.”
YN just clicked her tongue, grabbing her gloves and snapping them on, her hips swaying lazily as she prepped the antiseptic. “Guess? You don’t accidentally get a body like this, sweetheart.”
Ni-ki short-circuited.
Then came the cold sting of antiseptic against his ribs, making him flinch slightly—YN’s gloved hands were confident, firm but gentle, wiping the area clean before grabbing a razor and getting to work, her touch practiced and unapologetically thorough.
“Gotta get it smooth, can’t have you patchy, pretty boy,” she teased, tone light but gaze sharp, focused.
Ni-ki swallowed again, jaw tight as his eyes followed every step like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen—the fluid way she wiped down the area again, disinfected, grabbed the stencil, pressing it to his skin with steady, gloved fingers. Her head tilted, inspecting the placement before smoothing it out, pulling away slowly, revealing the crisp outline against his ribs.
YN gave him a once-over, stepping back, her grin damn near lethal. “You ready, pretty boy?” she asked, tone low, teasing, just a hint of challenge laced in her voice.
Ni-ki let out a shaky laugh, feeling the heat crawl up his neck, fingers flexing against the couch cushion. “Fuck… let’s do it.”
And just like that, the air snapped, tension thick and electric.
The second the needle kissed his rib, Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, a ragged breath spilling from his lips.
“Oh—fuck.”
His hand shot out, gripping the edge of the couch so tight his knuckles turned white. YN, meanwhile, barely glanced up, the corner of her lips curling into a slow, smug smirk.
“Didn’t peg you for a loud one, pretty boy,” she teased, her voice dipped in that dangerously low tone, the kind that slid under his skin and made his pulse spike.
He could barely get used to the sting when she suddenly paused, rolling her stool back and casually rummaging through one of the drawers. Ni-ki blinked, confused, before she turned back to him, offering a firm little stress ball.
“Here,” she grinned. “Thought you might need it.”
Ni-ki didn’t hesitate, snatching it from her hand like a lifeline… until she leaned in just a little closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.
“Would’ve told you to grab my waist instead… but we’re not there yet.”
His head snapped up, a noise caught in his throat—half groan, half desperate laugh—while YN spun back to her machine like she didn’t just fry every fucking brain cell in his body. The needle buzzed back to life, and Ni-ki sat there—skin burning from ink and words alike.
He tried to focus on something, anything… but his eyes betrayed him, locking onto her face, the way her lashes fluttered when she focused, that adorable little scrunch of her nose as she worked the finer details into his skin.
The stress ball? Pointless.
Staring at her? Yeah… that somehow helped… or made it worse, he couldn’t tell anymore.
“Halfway there, pretty boy,” YN purred without looking up, her tone playful as she pressed the machine deeper into his skin.
Ni-ki could only nod, muscles twitching beneath her touch, mind miles away from the tattoo and all over her—her touch… her voice… her.
And then there was the touches—the featherlight sweeps of her gloved hand over his abs, the accidental-but-not-really grazes along his v-line, the occasional shift of her body as she pressed closer, the scent of warm vanilla sinking into his lungs, addictive, maddening.
The worst part? Every time a low, involuntary whine slipped past his lips, YN just smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief, murmuring soft little apologies like she didn’t mean to do it… like she wasn’t very much doing it on purpose.
The needle dragged against a fresh stretch of skin—deeper, sharper, a fuck-you kind of sting that shot straight to Ni-ki’s spine. His breath stuttered, muscles flinching hard, and before he could stop it, a brutal string of curses ripped from his mouth.
“F-fucking—shit—ah—fuck.”
YN eased off immediately, pulling the needle back with a low, teasing laugh that made his head spin worse than the pain.
“Alright, alright,” she grinned, setting her machine down, rolling her wrist lazily like she had all the time in the world. “Drama king—take five.”
Ni-ki leaned back, chest heaving, every nerve burning under the heat of her smirk. She didn’t go far—just leaned over slightly, grabbing something from a nearby tray, fingers rustling through a jar before she popped a wrapped candy in front of his lips.
“Here,” she purred, pressing it into his palm, fingers brushing his knuckles a little too long, a little too soft. “Sugar helps cool the sting. Or at least distracts you from cursing my name.”
He chuckled, chest still tight, tearing it open and tossing it into his mouth just to keep himself occupied—keep his mouth full before it said something stupider.
YN’s lips quirked, head tilting. “You think your fans would approve of this?” she teased, playful lilt in her voice but curiosity hiding behind it.
Ni-ki huffed, leaning his head back, letting the sugar melt on his tongue before smirking, sharp and shameless. “Couldn’t give two fucks, honestly.”
That earned a real laugh from her—loud, unapologetic, full. The sound danced between them, and weirdly… it eased some of the sting in his ribs.
“Respect,” she grinned, picking her machine back up, flicking on the switch again. “I like a man who knows it’s his body, not the internet’s.”
Her words dug deeper than the ink, something sticky and slow settling in his chest as the buzzing returned, but… it didn’t feel as bad now. The pain was still there, biting at the edges, but the tension? The tension was worse—deliciously worse.
They didn’t talk much after that. No words… just lingering, charged glances.
Every time Ni-ki dared a glance at her, she was already watching him—eyelashes heavy, mouth curling in the faintest smirk, knowing exactly what she was doing. Her hands moved over his skin like she owned it, light brushes across his abs, quick swipes against his v-line, knuckles grazing a little too soft… making him tense, making him squirm just enough for her to notice.
And she noticed. Oh, she definitely noticed.
Ni-ki swallowed thickly, dragging his eyes away, trying to focus on anything but the slick pull of her gloves and the way she leaned in too close, vanilla swirling around him like a slow suffocation.
When she finally sat back, machine off, Ni-ki barely realized he’d been holding his breath until it rushed out of him—like a goddamn dam breaking.
YN was grinning as she grabbed the aftercare gel, her fingers expertly smoothing it over the inked skin, touch gentle… but her thumb pressing just a little too close to his lower ribs, right where his abs clenched beneath her palm.
“Congrats, pretty boy,” she murmured, voice dipping dangerously low as she worked the gel in slow, agonizing circles. “You survived.”
Barely.
Ni-ki’s jaw was tight, body tense under her hands as she explained the aftercare, what to avoid, how to sleep without ruining it, how the peeling would start… but his brain barely processed a word.
He was too busy watching her lips move, too aware of the heat rolling off her skin, too conscious of the fact she looked ridiculously hot even when casually explaining healing time.
And when she pressed the protective film against his ribs, her palm flattening over the fresh tattoo, her fingers flexing lightly into his side… his heart fucking stuttered.
The tension? Unbearable.
Ni-ki’s eyes fell to the ink, still glistening under the wrap… but all he could think about was her—YN, with those smug little smiles, filthy comments, soft hands, and addictive vanilla scent… standing right in front of him like she didn’t just ruin every logical thought he had.
Yeah.
He was fucked.
Absolutely, utterly fucked.
Ni-ki tugged his shirt back over his head, muscles still buzzing from the aftershock of pain and the lingering heat of YN’s touch. The fabric felt rougher somehow, almost suffocating after being under her hands for so long. He flexed his fingers absentmindedly, glancing around the space—her space—where the air still smelled of antiseptic, ink… and her vanilla perfume that stuck to his skin like a fucking brand.
Across the room, YN moved with ease, snapping off her gloves and cleaning up her tools with that same confident rhythm. No hesitation. No nerves. Like tattooing him hadn’t meant a damn thing. Like she hadn’t just sent him into a fucking spiral.
Ni-ki cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly on his feet.
“Thanks… for this. Seriously.”
YN looked up, lips pulling into a lazy smile—soft, knowing, devastating. Her eyes lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, locking with his, something wicked glinting behind them before she shrugged, effortlessly cool.
“Anytime, pretty boy. You sat through it like a champ… eventually.”
A breathy chuckle escaped him, chest feeling weirdly tight, fingers itching to say something—ask something. His gaze dropped to her hands, moving swiftly across the table, then back to her lips, and fuck—he needed to get out before he made a fool of himself.
But his feet wouldn’t move, caught in place as their eyes met again, sharp and intense, that same undercurrent of heat twisting between them. YN gave him a small, casual wave, fingers wiggling as she leaned back against the counter, completely unfazed.
“Don’t be a stranger,” she added, voice dipping just enough to make his heart skip.
Ni-ki swallowed hard, throat tight. Part of him wanted to turn back, lean against the doorframe, ask her out, ask for her number—anything. But something stupid—something cowardly—froze him in place.
He only managed a weak grin, awkward little nod, before stepping out into the hallway, the cool air slapping his face as the door clicked shut behind him.
Fuck.
His footsteps echoed in the quiet corridor, but after just a few paces, instinct kicked in—he looked back, one last glance at the door, the space where his world tilted slightly sideways for a few hours.
He didn’t know how or when, but something told him… this wasn’t the last time.
Not by a long shot.
The burn under his skin wasn’t just from fresh ink—it was her. And yeah, he was already planning his excuse to come back.
read part two here ! ONEOFONE
⌗ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — did I get this idea of niki’s rumoured tattoo? yes I did…. if you did enjoy do comment if you want a part 2!! Or if I should just leave it as a one shot…. ty for reading!!
