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YOU'RE MINE, I THOUGHT YOU KNEW THAT 〃 what makes onriyuhee jealous

あ . . . sion, riku, yushi, jaehee x fem!reader (separately) ⭑ possessiveness, slight angst in yushi and jaehee's part ⭑ 1.8k words for the whole piece

○   𝗌𝗄𝗒𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌.ᐟ    𖹭    i'm sorry anon, but i didn't include the nsfw part... making the masterlist, i notice how little sfw posts i have, so i decided to turn this one into a fluffish one. if i'm in the mood to write a nsfw ver. i will, truly!!

oh sion. ( 오시온 )

when someone makes you laugh out loud—you know, that kind of laugh that makes you lean into the nearest person and forget the world exists for a moment—he’ll just smile… and then go quiet.

he notices when you’re genuinely impressed by someone else’s talent or discipline, especially when it leaves you speechless or has you praising them nonstop without realizing it.

inside jokes he isn’t part of. moments he pretends not to see, even though his mind catalogs every single one.

and when someone remembers small details about you before he does—that stings his pride more than he’d ever admit.

sion’s jealousy starts in his chest, not in his head. it’s slow and contained, because he’s convinced that if he holds himself together firmly enough, it won’t show. what gets to him isn’t flirting—it’s intention. when someone earns your admiration without even trying, when you look at them like they possess something worthy of a nobel prize, sion feels subtly displaced. he prides himself on being dependable, on being the one you trust instinctively, the one you always turn to—so when another person slips into that role, even briefly, it wrecks him.

he won’t confront it directly. instead, he becomes more attentive, more present, as if he’s trying to remind you—again and again—that he’s there. the jealousy lingers even when you give him your full attention. he can’t let it go. he needs to be the center of your focus, constantly, or it feels like he’s going to explode.

you don’t notice it at first. you’re in the middle of a conversation—laughing, nodding, genuinely immersed. when you finally glance back, there he is. your boyfriend, sion. hands tucked into his pockets, expression unreadable, jaw clenched just enough to give him away.

you excuse yourself without fully interrupting the person you were talking to and call out to him. sion lets a smug little smile curve his lips.

“you look happy,” he says, easy and conversational.

“yeah,” you reply. “we were talking about—”

he nods before you can finish, stepping closer. not enough to be rude. just enough to reclaim his space, to make it clear—to you and to them—that you’re his. “did you eat?” he asks calmly. “you skipped lunch earlier.” his hand lifts, fingers brushing your cheek with practiced gentleness.

you blink, caught off guard. you hadn’t thought he’d noticed. you should know better by now—sion doesn’t miss anything about you.

“oh… no, not yet.”

“i figured,” he murmurs, that faint smile still there. “let’s grab something before you forget again.”

he takes your hand and gives the other person a reluctant little wave, polite but dismissive. they look awkward, unsure, as you’re gently pulled away.

later, when it’s just the two of you, walking through the streets toward the nearest restaurant, he listens to every word you say. when your voice trails off, he fills the silence without hesitation. “last week you mentioned that place near riku’s apartment,” he says. “small. quiet. full of things you like. we can go there next time.”

you look at him. “you remembered that?”

he shrugs, eyes fixed entirely on you. “of course i did, sugar.”

and he always does. every offhand comment, every quiet preference, every ordinary detail—you say it once, and it stays with him. to sion, every word you speak matters.

maeda riku. ( 前田陸 )

physical closeness that feels a little too casual. someone leaning in just a bit too close, taking your hand, sitting in his spot.

when you compliment someone’s confidence or attitude, he takes it personally—even if he doesn’t mean to.

being compared, even if it only happens in his head. you don’t have to say names; his mind fills in the blanks on its own.

when you defend someone a little too quickly. he’ll tease you about it later, half joking, half not.

riku’s jealousy is faster, more reactive. it sparks the instant he senses competition, even if no one else would call it that. what bothers him most isn’t the act itself, but the ease of it—how naturally someone slips into your space. he notices hands, distance, body language, tone. if someone makes you comfortable in a way that feels too effortless, he feels an immediate urge to reclaim his ground—sometimes through teasing, sometimes through exaggerated confidence.

riku hates the idea of being measured against someone else, even subconsciously, and that makes him reckless when jealousy hits. he laughs it off, jokes about it, but there’s always an edge beneath the humor—sharp enough to prove he isn’t just an option, but the right choice. riku is completely obsessed with you.

it hits him instantly—the laugh, the closeness, the way you don’t pull away. what does this guy have that’s so funny? the thought flashes hot and fast through his head. the plastic cup in his hand is already completely crushed. lucky for him, it’s empty.

“hey,” riku cuts in, a bright smile snapping into place. “what's so funny? i wanna laugh too!”

you turn, startled by your boyfriend’s sudden appearance. “oh—nothing, we were just—”

“clearly hilarious,” he says, draping an arm around your waist, possessive but casual, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you only laugh like that when something's really good. usually my jokes.”

you elbow him lightly. “that’s not true.”

riku leans down, voice low and playful, meant just for you. “it is, doll. i pay attention to you.”

to anyone else, he’s charming. effortless. to you, there’s something sharper underneath. it’s in the way his voice gets a little louder, the way he starts listing small facts about you—details meant to prove that he knows you. better than anyone else ever could.

later, when it’s just the two of you, he bumps your shoulder with his.

“are you always this friendly?” he asks. the tone is joking, but his eyes keep flicking between you and the room.

“riku.”

“what?” he laughs, hands raised. “just asking.”

but he doesn’t give you space for the rest of the night. he stays close. fingers brushing yours. comments timed just right, loud enough to pull your attention back where he wants it.

jealousy, for him, is kinetic. it lives in movement, presence, noise. a constant performance—almost like a peacock—anything to make sure he’s seen, remembered, impossible for you to ignore.

tokuno yushi. ( 得能勇志 )

emotional intimacy like late-night conversations, shared playlists, knowing looks, it wraps around his stomach in a visceral way.

someone understanding your moods without you having to explain. that’s sacred territory to him.

when you’re comfortable being vulnerable with someone else. that unsettles him more than outright flirting ever could.

inside knowledge—someone knowing your habits, your fears, your silences. he’d rather die.

yushi’s jealousy is quiet and internal, almost invisible unless you know him well. he isn’t jealous of attention; he’s jealous of understanding. what truly unsettles him is seeing someone reach you emotionally in a way he believed was reserved only for him. shared silence. mutual comfort. the feeling of being seen without explanation—that was his territory.

when he realizes someone else has access to that part of you, he withdraws slightly—not out of spite, but confusion. he wonders if he misread the closeness, if it meant less than he thought. instead of acting possessive, he turns inward, becoming more careful with his words, more deliberate with his presence, as if he’s trying to rebuild the intimacy brick by brick, even though it was never really broken. his jealousy is soft, but it runs deep.

he notices the change before you do. his voice softens, his posture opens, the conversation flowing more calmly, more deeply than before.

yushi doesn’t interrupt—he simply steps back.

later, when the space finally clears, he sits beside you in silence. it stretches on, comfortable, but with a slight weight to it.

“you tired?” he asks, fidgeting with his hands.

“a little,” you admit, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “we ended up talking for a while.”

he nods, eyes fixed on the floor. “it looked important.”

you turn to him. “and it was. it was too serious for him.”

there’s a pause. then, quietly, “do you remember the song you told me about once? that one you always listen when you can't sleep.”

you nod, staying quiet.

“i listened to it once again last night,” he admits. “it made me think of you.”

it’s an offering. he leans closer, shoulder brushing yours, reclaiming your intimacy through memory and affection. you curl into his arms, and he rests his chin against the top of your head, holding you there as if that closeness is the only thing that ever mattered.

kim daeyoung. ( 김대영 )

competence. someone being reliable in a way that makes you fully relax in their presence.

when you rely on someone else during stressful moments instead of instinctively turning to him.

being praised for thoughtfulness—especially when that’s something he prides himself on. what is it, anyway? he’s your boyfriend. that’s part of being a good partner. still, it leaves him feeling like he isn’t doing enough.

moments when he feels replaceable. that’s the real trigger, even if he never says it out loud.

jaehee’s jealousy is rooted in usefulness and trust. he wants to be the person you lean on when things go wrong, the one who fixes problems before they surface. when someone else steps into that role—calm, capable, steady—it hits a nerve. he doesn’t resent the other person; he resents the feeling of not being unnecessary in that moment. what truly unsettles him is seeing you relax because someone else has things handled.

he masks it well, staying composed on the surface, but internally he starts questioning his worth—replaying scenarios where he could have done more, been faster, been better.

everything is already resolved by the time you notice. schedules rearranged. calls made. problems solved. the stress neatly stabilized, like it never had the chance to grow.

“you didn’t have to do all this, daeng…” you say, looking over everything he prepared.

jaehee shrugs, calm and efficient as always. “it needed to be done anyway.”

you hesitate, lips twisting slightly. “she was helping me earlier.”

“i know,” he says a little too quickly, then smooths it over. “it's fine, i like doing this for you.”

“thank you, love.” you smile and kiss his cheek.

later, when you thank him properly, his composure cracks just enough to let something real slip through.

“just... don't like it when you're stressed,” he admits quietly. “and i don't like the feeling that i'm... late.”

“late?”

he exhales. “like i should've been here first.”

there’s no anger in his voice. no blame. just resolve. he straightens almost instinctively, already thinking ahead, already planning—making sure that next time, you won’t need to rely on anyone else.

jaehee’s jealousy isn’t about possessiveness. it’s about responsibility. about proving that with him, you’re safe.

taglist. @spacejip @lyvhie @strawikus @pgwkzworld @rikuhq @kurimurii @neovisions @lovesckaiwenn @sionsdihrider @pinkoko

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