flashovrr

even if it repeats, the ending is the same, i'm no way back

[nishimmortal]

replay

an up and coming dj catches your eye...and you catch his 😛

content: smau ⟡ dj!jake x reader ⟡ profanity ⟡ suggestive ⟡ jake is downbad

a/n: dikeu...sorry this is a little shorter than usual i just wanted to post something 🥀

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[eunscence]

i have to have sex with 7hypen at least once. all 7 at the same damn time

[cherryw0n]

enhypen jay smut request!! rough shower sex the morning after the freaky night they had pls (reader is sore from the night but she lets him do it to her once again) 👅

too much? | park jay

pairing: bestfriend!jay x reserved!reader (afab)

synopsis: letting your childhood best friend fuck you while you're in a happy relationship isn't something you could tell to anyone—not when he fucks you this good.

genre: smut, pure filth

contains: profanity, unprotected sex, infidelity, no remorse for cheating, morally grey characters, unethical behavior

smut warnings: shower sex, overstimulation, begging, teasing, pussy eating, use of showerhead, clitoral stimulation, breast play, impact play, cockdrunk!reader, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, creampie

a/n: we believe in jay manifesto era supremacy so the pussy drooling haircut is back for this fic

part two -> not enough?

NOT PROOFREAD!

MDNI!

The hot water ran over your body, soothing the sore muscles under the skin that throbbed with each slight movement. Your hands went up to the back of your neck, giving it a light squeeze in an attempt to ease the sharp sting that made you shudder the moment you moved your neck. You left light squeezes all over the shoulders as you gritted your teeth at the pain, but nothing was helping.

You groan out in frustration at the poor attempt to at least slightly give yourself some kind of relief—no use. Before you knew it, you turn the warm water way hotter. A hiss escaping you as it hit your hair, trickling down your arms and legs. It felt unbearable, but a few seconds were enough for your body to adjust, muscles finally giving a reaction and twitching under the stream of the shower.

You dragged your hands down your face, head tilting up towards the boiling stream rubbing your thighs together, switching foot to foot. The ache between your legs have not persisted, only seemed to swell more. It definitely wasn't a pleasant feeling—sore, aching and throbbing in the most discomforting way.

The fog slowly filled up the bathroom, white clouds dancing around the tiled room, trapped and swaying. You close your eyes at an attempt of relaxing inhaling sharply through your nose, filing your lungs with the humid air before exhaling through your mouth. Just as you were trying to trick your mind that your muscles weren't cramping anymore, the sound of the bathroom door opening echoed through the air, a slight rattle of the doorframe was felt as they went closed.

Your head snapped toward the sound, eyes searching for his figure in the midst of fog before they landed on his silhouette. Your heart jumped at the blur image of him stripping, the wet humid glass of the shower only lessening the view. Your eyes were stuck on him, the familiar movement of his limbs, the familiar build—all too familiar.

The moment his figure was getting closer to the shower, your head snapped back toward the wall, playing it off as he opened the glass door. You tried not to look, dragging the palms down your face in an poor attempt to hide the way your body stiffened. The glass door shut, the sound of wet steps seemed closer and you glanced at him, fingers running through your hair and pushing it back.

All of a sudden it felt suffocating—not because of the warm water, not because of the white smoke surrounding you, but because of him.

You cleared your throat the moment he stopped right next to you, taller frame eating your smaller one up, shoulders strong and broad, jawline sharp and flexing as he let it go slack, feeling the water enter his mouth. His dark blue hair was pushed back, undercut nothing but perfect, the two fresh lines sat right next to his hairline, pulling the look together.

The water trickled down his naked body, hands passing over his chest lightly, rubbing and caressing it. Too close. He was too close. Your eyes danced awkwardly around the wall that you two were facing, arms crossed over your breasts as you rubbed your shoulders, thumbs digging over the collarbones before.

Jay's head turned to look at you, sharp eyes boring into the side of your thoughtful face. You could feel it. His gaze devouring you just as you stood by him under the heavy stream of water. Jay chuckled, the vibrations getting to you as the sound bounced off the tiles together with the rush of running water. You turned to face him, eyes meeting with a sharp tug at your chest. The big stream ran over both of you, caressing your skin as each drop now felt heavier against your own body.

Jay fully turned to you, gaze flicking down to your lips, then your arms over your chest. A grin tugged at his lips, hands grabbed your wrists as he pulled them away from your front and yanked you closer to him—his head dipping down to catch your lips.

Your lips meet in a slow kiss. His plush lips moving against yours with sensual grace, and you let him, kissing back in no time. The grip he had on your wrists was strong, becoming steadier with each move of yours, afraid that you will pull away. Your bodies glued, his chest wet and firm as the kisses became hungrier, sloppier. Your breathing picked up, skin on fire at just the feel of his bare body against yours—the throb between your legs shot up your already sore muscles, screaming for a rest. But when Jay's hands let go of your wrists, and ran over your naked front as he left kisses down your wet neck—it all went to hell.

You hissed at the squeeze he delivered to your breasts, thumbs teasing the already hard nipples making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your arm found an anchor—his shoulders, as you tilted your head back in a pain that seemed to only build up into the shallow pleasure when his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples. "Ah fuck..." You mumbled under your breath, ears already drumming with overwhelming warmth that had you clinging onto his figure that assaulted your already sensitive body. His tongue flickered against you nipple fast, mouth slurping up the water that trickled between your bodies before he tugged at it with his teeth, rolling it painfully against them before releasing. You gasped, a slight tremor passing through you in an attempt to dull the sharp sting. Your legs felt like jelly, and the ache that's supposed to burn in desire, only seemed to pulse in a poor scream of 'too much'. Your mouth felt dry, one leg hooked onto his thigh.

But was it too much?

Jay looked up at you, his tongue following the column of your throat, hot tongue traveling up to your chin, leaving behind a burning sensation. He gripped your waist, as he straightened himself, and before you knew it, your back was against the tiled wall. You gulp, eyes flicking up to meet his. Jay's expression was unreadable now—no grin, no teasing, just focus. His grip tightened at your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to ground you, to keep you upright when your knees threatened to fold.

He caught it, the slight tremble of your knees, the tense shoulders. He smirked. "Already giving up?" His thumb dug harder into your waist, a warning more than a touch, holding you firmly in place as the water thundered down around you. Jay leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath against your cheek, not kissing, not touching—making you wait.

"Stand up." He muttered. "I've got you."

You swallowed, forcing your legs to obey as another shiver tore through you. The tiles were cold against your back, the contrast brutal with the sensitive heat pooling low in your body. Jay's gaze stayed locked on your face, tracking every reaction, every breath you failed to control. "Don't look away." He added calmly, lifting your chin just enough to make sure you didn't.

The moment stretched—heavy, suffocating—before he pulled back a fraction, just to watch you breathe again. His grip never loosened, fingers still bruising, anchoring you there as if daring you to collapse.

"Good." He said simply, satisfaction flickering across his face. "Now stay still." The rain shower continued to pour over you both, heavy and relentless, but Jay's attention shifted. His gaze dropped just briefly to the side, toward the unused handheld docked against the wall. You noticed it immediately. The shift in his focus. The intent.

The pressure on your body didn't ease for long. His other hand stayed firm, pinning you there as he reached for the smaller shower head, fingers curling around it with intent. The hose rattled softly as he pulled it free, the sound sharp in the enclosed space.

The stream changed pitch as he adjusted it—more focused, harsher than the rain above you. You tensed instinctively. Jay glanced back at you, catching it immediately. "I said still." He didn't rush. Tested the spray against the tile beside your hip, water splashing back against your skin, close enough to make your breath hitch without actually touching you yet. The contrast—heat, pressure, proximity—had your muscles locking up on reflex.

His grip tightened in warning.

"Don't make me repeat myself." He muttered, calm, almost bored. Your chest rose up and down in an uneven loop, hands flat against the cold tiles, steadying you. A sudden slam of his knee between your thighs made you shudder as he spread them. The hand that was on your hip was fast enough between them, a teasing drag of his middle finger against your swollen slit—tender and testing. A sharp inhale exuded you, eyes closing in pure restraint.

His finger dragged slowly, feeling the slimy arousal coat his fingertips, mixing with the water that clung to his hand. Jay's fingers pressed into your heat, swallowed by the pulsing folds. A low moan escaped you, head hitting the wall behind you, feeling the water run down between your bodies, slippery and hot. He spread you, his pointer and middle pulling the folds apart agonizingly slow, earning a choked sound from you, eyes squeezing tighter. He moved back an inch, head tilting down to look at your spread slit.

He clicked his tongue, gaze glued to the red and sensitive flesh, observing it—studying. "I should have went a little softer, don't you think?" He cooed, eyes moving up to your dazed face. A teasing suppressed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—eyes glimmering with mischief. You pushed your head off the wet wall, clit pulsing hard against the open air making your hips roll involuntarily in a search of something more.

You gulped, hips pushing forward. A nod from you made him chuckle, hand still holding your pussy open and eyes flicking over the raw, glistening mess. "Was too much last night?"

You nodded, yourself not knowing the answer, but your body screamed for a rest. "Yeah. Can't stand properly." The honesty made its way out of you in a soft tone, words getting to Jay before he hummed in response. "Good." He added slyly. "Gonna ruin this pussy till he can't touch it for a week."

A gasp erupted from your chest as the stream of water hit your most sensitive skin. Jay's fingers ingraved on your lips, holding you mercilessly exposed to the sharp spray of water—making you shiver and arch. Jay's eyes never left your face, watching every flinch, every breath, every subtle twitch. His cock already burning and aching, pre cum dripping down his leaking tip, painfully getting harder and harder by each passing second.

The pressure on your pussy felt overwhelming, you squirmed against the stream searching for more—hips moving helplessly as a cry of overstimulation escaped you. Jay smirked, bringing the showerhead closer and angling it just where he knew will leave you trembling—you gasped. The stream now hitting your puffy clit, sending tremors down your thighs.

The water roared around you, hot and heavy, steam curling thickly in the tight space. He shifted slightly again, controlling the angle, letting the spray hit exactly where he knew it would make you cry, your body betraying itself despite your attempts at restraint. "Fuck— yes..." You whispered, eyes lazy adorned with pleasure, relaxing your body and surrendering it to the ecstatic torture.

You moaned, hole clenching under the pressure of the water stream, breathing shaky and unstable. Jay pressed himself flush against you, sandwiching you between the cold wall and his hot body. He pressed the showerhead right onto your clit—hard and harsh. "Jay!" You cried out, hands clawing at his wrists, trying to stop him, to stop the overwhelming feeling that burned between your legs gradually devouring your whole body.

He hummed softly, arms strong and not moving an inch against your poor attempts at pushing him away, he only pressed more. The sound of the gush against your clit and your cries were the music to his ears, fueling him. "Already shaking?" He cooed, pressing his chest harder against you, feeling the perks of your smashed tits rub against him—gliding with ease against his wet skin as you squirmed, eyes locked onto his slanted ones.

"It's too—fuck Jay! It hurts—it hurts so good!" You grinded against the cold metal, now holding his hands in place, breathing raged as you chased the heat that was pooling at the pit of your abdomen, the warmth that seemed to coil lower with each drag of your hips against the sharp stream. The harsh quiver of your thighs made Jay grin feverishly. One finger finding his way between your throbbing bud and the cold showerhead—grazing your clit before leaving slow agonizing taps against it. "A-ahh..." You let out a broke sound, you voice giving out, eyes dropping down his wet body. The water trickling down his shoulder, chest, dissappearing right where you two were mushed together—your nipples hard against his pecks, begging for attention with every subtle raise of his chest that provided them with slight friction.

"You're already gone and I haven't even tried." He scoffed. "Pathetic much." He dipped his head down, letting his wet lips graze your neck, right under your ear. Goosebumps rose over your damp skin, the warmth of his breath something that's burning you more than the almost boiling water running down your naked bodies. He pressed a tender kiss, finger still working between your legs in tandem with the water caressing your heat, slow and deliberate taps on your clit sent shivers you never felt before down your spine. Your arms shot up onto his shoulders, engulfing him in a sloppy hug as you clung onto him, legs shaking and at the brink of giving out. "Yes, don't stop." You chanted in his ear, hot air fanning his neck feeling his muscles contract under your grip. One of your legs hooked onto his hip with wobbly strength you somehow mustered, angling your hips for him.

Jay smothered your neck in kisses, teeth grazing the burning skin—teasing, feeling and exploring. "So needy." He breath out. "Letting me use this sore cunt. You are gonna let me fill it up again, yeah? " Jay murmured against your ear, filthy words sending you into a frenzy

"Yes!"

Your thighs shook, hips stuttering back as he started rubbing fast tight circles on your clit. You let out a cry, eyes tight shut as you nuzzled into his neck one hand already into his locks, pulling and gripping—trying to ground yourself. Teeth grazed at your shoulder, dipping into the aching muscle giving it a painful bite. His finger didn't stop, it sped up against the gush of water that made your head spin as you cling to him. "Fuck...there you go."

The pressure built too fast, too sharp, your body locking up before you could brace for it. Your breath hitched, then shattered, the sound tearing out of you as the tension snapped all at once. Every nerve lit up, overwhelming, blinding—heat crashing through you in a relentless wave that had your grip tightening, nails digging in as if you might slip away if you let go.

Jay didn't slow. If anything, he held you there, unyielding, letting the aftershocks roll through you until your thighs trembled violently, muscles oversensitive and screaming. You gasped against his skin, helpless to the way your body reacted, to how every lingering sensation felt magnified, too much and not enough all at once.

"Easy." He muttered, not soft, not kind—steadying you as the wave faded, your mind cloudy as he finally moved the showerhead away from your used core, finger stopping all the action and finally letting your folds meet. You hissed at the feeling, arms dropping from his shoulders trying to ground you against the cold tiles.

The water kept pounding down, loud and unforgiving, steam curling thick around you as you stood there, still shaking, still raw—your body slow to come back down, nerves buzzing. You were on the verge of collapsing, legs trembling, your pussy throbbing with overstimulating aftershocks. Your eyes went closed, your breathing raging and before you could register what was going on, Jay was already placing the showerhead back, knees fast on the wet floor as he pushed his hair back out of his face, letting the rain pour over his features as it dropped down in harsh drops.

At feel of his palms feeling your thighs up your head snapped down, eyes meeting. "Jay—" He bit his lip in response, a teasing smile tugging at the corner as his gaze dropping down to your mound before he raised one thigh onto his shoulder. His eyes danced over your pussy, wet, pulsing, puffy and red. Jay licked his lips, desire burning deep in his chest at just the mere clench of your hole against his gaze. "Fuck..." His voice came out low and needy, mouth watering at just the sight. His cock throbbed, standing hard against his lower stomach, pulsing with need and arousal. He let out a low moan as his fist tugged at his length, stroking it teasingly before abandoning himself, his palms now holding your hips in place, mouth attaching to your clit in a matter of milliseconds. You gasped, hips pulling back—but he held you there. Right at the mercy of his feverish mouth lapping up your juices that mixed with the hot pouring water, tongue dancing against your sensitive bud fast.

You cried desperately, gasps and sobs leaving your parted lips. "Mmm..." His voice vibrated against your cunt, making you grind your hips against his tongue that ravenouly toyed with your clit. Rolling it, sucking harshly, licking it and pressing it flat as he bobbed his head against your heat. You arched into him, eyes tearing up as you bit your bottom lip in pure endurement head falling back against the wall, eyes tight shut.

The back of your heel dug into his midback, pushing him desperately against your pussy with your hips trying to move back but was met with the damp wall—your body experiencing conflict in real time. You cried out when his teeth bit down at your puffy bundle of nerves that was screaming for rest. "Fucking shit, can't get enough of this pussy." A slap echoed through the closed off space, making you jolt and yelp in surprise and pleasure. His hand left a hand print on your thigh, glowing red from the force he hit you with. Jay's tongue was back on you, now playing with your hole as he pushed the tip in and circled it around—feeling you tense around his hot muscle. "I can taste myself from last night fuuck—" He spoke before he licked a filthy strip up to your clit. "Bet he tastes me everytime without even knowing"

He placed his tongue flat onto your bud, pressing down onto the swollen throbbing flesh before he moved his head side to side—fast and hungry. "Jay!" Your hands were fast into his dark blue locks, pulling and gripping it, breath hitching and ragged as your eyes were glued onto his mouth right over your cunt. Gasps filled the air, sobs following here and there. The coil in your abdomen seemed to get big fast, the tension that threatened to snap with each fast and rough move of his head. You rolled your hips against him, but it turned just into a try as he held your hips tightly, mouth devouring you impatiently.

"I—I'm..." Your voice trembled. "—close." The word barely made it out before it broke apart completely.

The pressure snapped without warning. Your body seized, breath stalling as the sensation tore through you all at once, sharp and overwhelming, stealing the strength from your legs. Your grip tightened in his hair as if that was the only thing keeping you upright, a broken sound ripping out of you as the wave crashed hard and unforgiving.

Jay didn't pull away. He held you there through it, unrelenting, letting it wash over you until your thighs trembled violently, muscles locking, nerves screaming at the intensity. Every shake of his head felt amplified now, too sensitive. Your body still reacting even as the peak began to fade.

Your head tipped back against the tile, chest heaving, vision swimming as the aftershocks rolled through you in uneven bursts. You shuddered, breath coming in short, wrecked pulls, hands slipping weakly from his hair to his shoulders as your strength finally gave out. But his mouth still worked on you with the same rhythm that never persisted. You squirmed against him tiredly, wincing at his greediness. You whimpered and sobbed desperately, but still rolled your hips against his savage mouth and trying to move your numb leg that was still dangling onto his shoulder. But there was no need for that because he was fast up on his feet, wiping his chin and lips with the back of his hand before harshly turning you and pressing face-first against the cold tiles. You moaned out, mind mushy nor able to form a coherent thought.

He pulled your hips toward him and you felt it. His hard cock against your ass cheeks, hard and pulsing. You couldnt think, couldn't speak, only surrender to Jay's merciless touches. The water from above hit your lower back, dipping right over your waist and ass as it poured down, feeling it trail where you were burning up and hurting—right between your bodies. It slid down your ass cheek and caressed your folds, mixing with your arousal as it dropped onto the tiled floor. It made you grind back against Jay, pressing against him in search of relief.

Jay's hand grabbed his cock, stroking it before he dragged it down between your folds, mixing his own precum with your wetness. He hissed at the contact, eyes dark as they never left the place where he teased you. You moaned, cheek flat against the tiles, hands supporting you as you arched into him, begging to be filled. And with no warning he slammed into you, hips working your walls open infuriatingly hard and fast. He slipped in with ease, hips slamming against your ass repeatedly as he groaned at each sound that ripped from your throat. His fingers threated through your slippery wet hair, fisting your roots as he pulled your hair straining your already painfully sore neck. His breath fanned your ear, teeth pulling at the red skin. "Such a slut—" His hips pounded into you, his length reaching deep, rubbing the velvety walls with a brutal pace. You hummed at his words, only focused on the wall he was splitting you open, his balls now and then hitting at your clit the more you arched.

"Letting your childhood friend who you grew up with fuck you like this." He continued, pace brutal and precise—like he knew exactly the angles, the rhythm that made you shudder, lose it altogether.

Maybe because he did.

He knew every part of you, your life, your body. It's like your autonomy became his—and that was the worst part of it. There was no mystery here. No learning curve. Just familiarity sharpened into something dangerous.

Your body responded before your thoughts could catch up. It always did with him. Like it remembered things you never consciously agreed to give away. Every reaction felt automatic, trained, humiliating in how natural it came. This wasn't new.

It was inevitable.

And the way your body kept answering him—despite everything you knew you shouldn't want—made it impossible to pretend otherwise.

The smacks echoed the bathroom, water running down onto your moving bodies, adding to the glide of his cock into your soaked hole. His hand gripped your hair, not moving as his other went to wrap around your arched waist. "What would our parents say, huh?" Your walls clenched at his words, and he felt it. A chuckle escaped him as you moaned lowly in response. "Knowing everytime they told me to go to your house, while they were not there to keep you safe. I was all up in their daughter's pussy." He let out a dry laugh, cynical. "Matter of fact—" He yanked your hair, making you face him and eyes lock onto his. "What would your sweet boyfriend Jungwon say?"

Your just stared back at him, look dazed and high, lips parted. Jay felt his cock twitch, hips slamming into you, feeling your walls tighten at every syllable that left his mouth. "Who you go to after I'm done with you. My smell all fucking over you and cum dripping down your thighs." He spat out, eyes dropping to your lips, admiring the way you didn't think, couldn't—just straight up listening to his filthy words, eyes barely open. He laughed in mockery.

"Fucking slut. Can't even speak because of my dick."

You tried to get closer to his face, smash your lips together, but he kept you firmly by your hair, scoffing at your attempt. You whined in response, feeling your pussy pulse, throbbing in overstimulation. But still you moved your hips back with the strength you had left, meeting his thrusts halfway. Jay groaned at it, moving back to take a look at where you two met. Your puffy folds swallowing him as you fucked yourself back, meeting his harsh hips. A string of moans left you, cheek pressing back against the wall, his hand pushing it onto the hard tiles. A smack of his palm against your ass made you jolt, nose wrinkling in pain as a whimper escaped. Another smack. And another.

You cried out, hands dragging against the slippery surface, squirming as his hips pushed into you furiously with each drag of his cock against your cunt. "You are swallowing me, fucking sucking me in." He breathlessly spoke, eyes fixated on the way you took him, walls squeezing and sucking him in greedily. Your mind was fuzzy, legs shaking as you felt your pussy burn, nerves on fire with each pound of his.

Then in the midst of it all—the sound of skin on skin, breathless moans and the water running—a ringtone. That ringtone that specifically made your heart flutter, made you smile like an idiot before answering as you run to grab it. The ringtone no other person in your phone had.

Jungwon.

The phone vibrated against the counter right outside the glass shower, the cute specific melody echoing the space making Jay sneer as he pounded you harshly, his grip tightening onto your hair. But this time, the ringtone didn't even make you flinch—your focus only on the man behind you ravishing you.

"Won't you answer?" Jay asked, feeling his cock twitch, tip more sensitive then ever as the pressure started raising in his pelvis. You bit your lip, orgasm building up as the sting on your scalp made you moan out in pain. The melody didn't stop, vibrations sending the phone dancing around the marble counter. "Your cute little boyfriend wants to ask you how you slept, did you eat, hm?" Jay asked in a baby voice mockingly, his arm holding your waist, preventing you from collapsing right there and then between him and the slippery wall. Your ears started to ring, pleasure building fast and sharp, every nerve end seemed to burn and pulse in need—need for the release.

Uncontrollable moans spilled from you, hips moving back in pure ecstasy. Jay could not stop the sneer that escaped him again, cock at the brink of spilling his seed deep into your warm pussy—wanting nothing else then to fill you up. To leave a piece of him behind. But he gritted his teeth, fucking you harder and faster, tactical thrusts hitting that one spot inside you, and it all crumbled.

"Jay fuck! Yesyesyes—" You chanted out pleas as a mantra, eyes tight shut, hands turned into fists knuckles turning white. Everything shut down for you—and then flared back to life in aftershocks. Pleasure rushed through you in waves, stealing your voice, your thoughts, everything but the feeling of him right there, grounding you as you came undone.

Jay felt it instantly. The way your body clenched, the way you broke around him. His rhythm faltered for half a second, a low sound leaving his chest as his control finally started to crack. He stayed close, the arm around your waist, the one that gripped your hair instinctively moved by your head, palms flat against the cold wall—bracing himself, hips stuttering as he felt you spasm around him. His name repeatedly hitting his ear drum, your voice shaky and unstable as you slowly came down from your high, gritting your teeth as his cock still plunged inside you. You arched into him, giving him a better angle—just how he liked it.

And it was all it took for him to spill inside you. His orgasm came crashing down onto him in harsh waves, sending his hips stuttering as his white seed shot deep into you. His head dropped right by your ear, deep breaths fanning your damp skin as he fucked the remnants of him into you, making sure not a single drop ends up wasted. "Ah fuck—" He cursed, thighs spasming and arms trembling. You felt like you would black out any second, the weight of him over you and the heat of his body were overwhelming.

The rain over you still pouring down onto your flushed bodies, providing some kind of relief. The water turned lukewarm without both of you noticing—bodies tired, sore and aching.

He pulled out, the sudden feel of emptiness making you wince as the soreness took place again—worse than earlier, painful. You stood there trying to move your thighs, to lean fully against the wall, but you couldn't. Jay noticed it, a smirk on his lips as his eyes flicked over your pussy stuffed with his release, some coating your folds as the most dripped out of you and onto the floor in a trickle, mixing with the running water.

You swallowed, breath uneven as you made yourself move somehow, shoulder meeting the wall. Your gazes collided, breath slowing, the moment settling into place like muscle memory. He stood there with you under the water, trying to calm his own breathing as his back met the tiles right by you.

The silence was comforting, familiar, something you always enjoyed. It was until your phone dinged, signaling you received a message. Jay turned his head to you, scanning your exhausted face before he spoke;

"You should call him back."

______

! this is all work of fiction. in no way this is a representation of enhypen members nor do I believe this is how they behave in real life or condone these actions!

[lavishluzt]

genuinely baffles me when I think about the fact that there are people out there who see yang jungwon as only cute….are you not seeing this man??!

[encorediary]

lipstick - park jongseong💄

bf!jay x gf!reader🤍

genre: smut 🔞 (mdni) | wc: 1815.

pairing: jay really loved your lipstick that it drives him insane.

warnings: kissing, flirting, making out, dom!jay, dom!reader, moaning, nipple kissing - sucking and biting, unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), clit rubbing.

!it’s my first ever smut, please be nice😩

Jay notices things.

That’s the problem.

He notices everything.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous.

The way you always steal the strawberries from his desserts.

The way your eyes disappear when you laugh too hard.

And unfortunately for him…

He notices your lipstick, too.

Today it’s a cherry red one.

Yesterday it was a soft pink one.

Last week it was a color so close to your natural lips that he spent twenty minutes trying to figure out why you looked different.

It’s ridiculous.

He’s aware of that.

But every time you smile at him across the room, he’s suddenly incapable of remembering what he was doing.

“You’re staring again.”

Your voice pulls him back to reality.

Jay blinks.

You’re standing in front of him now, arms crossed, trying -and failing- not to smile.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

A laugh escapes your lips.

And for a second…

All he can think about is how that lipstick would probably leave a mark if he kissed you.

He leans closer and places a hand on your neck with such gentleness that it sends shivers down your spine, then slowly moves it behind your head, pulling you close.

"This lipstick looks great on you, you know that?"

He confesses, looking into your eyes.

"Do you like it?"

You reply, aware of the effect it has on him.

"Mmh mmh"

He leans closer to your lips,

caressing your cheeks with both his hands.

He kisses you slowly at first,

which intensifies when you run a hand over his chest.

The gesture drives him crazy,

and, breaking away from the kiss,

he remains a few inches from your lips.

"You're so gorgeous, that’s dangerous."

"Dangerous why?"

You say with a grin and tilting your head slightly to feign innocence.

"Because I wouldn't leave you for even a second"

He says as his hands end up on your back, massaging up and down.

"You can do whatever you want."

That sentence makes him pause for a second.

Then with the most mischievous look in the world, he kisses you again.

He steps back, and he touches the edge of the couch, sitting down.

You're on top of him now, still with your lips on his.

You start kissing his neck, leaving lipstick marks, and he can't help but moan.

"Have you really become that weak for my lipstick?"

You say while leaving kisses on his soft skin.

He takes your chin with one hand, when you finally look at him, his hand slowly slides from your neck to your chest, resting it on your hip.

"Yes, because whatever you're wearing looks divine on you, you're perfect."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"You're so sweet, I almost feel guilty for thinking I could drive you crazy for a while,"

You tell him with a pout, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand.

He removes your hand from his cheek.

"Don't worry, I give you permission, make me yours."

You smile at him and in an instant you're kissing him with a hunger you've never felt before.

You break away from the kiss and move further and further down, from his neck to his chest.

In two seconds, you unbutton the shirt he was wearing, until it's completely off.

You leave a trail of hot kisses all over his chest, reaching his stomach.

You look up at him for a second and notice he was about to explode, but he made you continue.

When he sees you're looking at him, he raises his hand and grabs a lock of your hair.

"You're so sexy when you want to dominate me, and with that red lipstick..."

"And I'm just getting started"

You reply, and you return to kissing him from where you left off.

You move back with kisses until you reach his neck, sitting on his hips again.

You move closer to his face, but without kissing him, you take off your top, leaving you in your bra.

He watches your every move intently with eyes like those of a puppy desperately begging for food.

He looks at your chest and then up at your eyes, his gaze a mixture of admiration and desire.

He kisses your neck without saying anything, sucking the skin and biting just enough to make you moan.

"You smell amazing"

He says as he continues kissing your neck, moving down to your shoulder.

You don't respond immediately, you're busy enjoying the kisses he's leaving you.

And damn, he’s so good at kissing you like this, that for a second your vision blurs in pleasure.

He knows every one of your sweet spots, and when he wants to drive you a little wild, he knows just what to pull.

"Jay..."

You say, panting and tightening your hand in his hair, pulling him closer to you.

"Yes, honey?"

He says without leaving your skin.

"I want more."

He pulls away from you and, without saying anything, he lays you down on the couch.

He leans on top of you, holding onto his forearms near your shoulders.

He looks at you intensely, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen onto your forehead.

"You need me, princess?"

"Yes, please!"

You grab his neck and kiss him with an intensity that you can already feel his hardness under you.

You start laughing into the kiss.

He notices it and, without saying anything

he reaches a hand down your back and unhooks your bra, exposing your breasts. He looks at you as if he’s asking for your permission to touch you.

"Can I?"

He asks in a soft, calm voice that makes you smile.

You nod without answering.

When you give him permission, he moves closer to the middle of your breast and leaves kisses right there.

His lips are so warm, making you arch your back and gasp softly.

Then he moves closer to your right breast, first gently brushing it with his nose.

Then when he reaches your nipple, he kisses it.

Then he starts sucking it and lightly biting it.

You, surprised, let out a louder moan and jump a little because you weren't expecting it.

"Sorry, love, but they're so beautiful I can't resist"

He says without looking you in the eyes, and continues sucking your nipple.

With his other hand, he takes your other breast and plays with it.

You keep moaning, he knows how much you like it when he plays with your breasts.

So he keeps sucking both your nipples and your skin, leaving little hickeys on them.

He slowly pulls away from your breast and looks at the hickeys he's left.

"So sexy"

He then looks at you with a mischievous grin.

"You're so sexy, you know that?"

You lift your head from the pillow and sit back against the back of the couch.

"You are, look at you, covered in my kisses and lipstick marks"

You say, running a finger over his chest.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed, it feels like I've become your canvas."

You let out a laugh, rising slightly to sit on top of him.

"Now it's my turn"

You say, and he looks at you with wide eyes, but you can tell he's been waiting for nothing else.

You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him intently.

"Shall we get straight to the point, mmh?"

You say, tilting your head to give him a single kiss on the neck.

"Go ahead, love"

He says, holding his breath for a second. You stand up and begin unbuttoning your shorts, pulling them down along with your underwear.

He looks you up and down with his mouth open.

You move closer to him and place a hand on his v-line, very close to the hem of his pants.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want you so bad"

You unbutton his pants too, and he helps you pull them off along with his boxers.

Now you're both naked, but before doing anything, you ask him.

"We'd better get on the bed, what do you think? We'll be more comfortable that way."

He doesn't respond, just looks at you and follows you like a puppy.

You get to the bedroom, and he immediately lies down, waiting just for you to get on top of him.

You sit on top of him, between his legs and knees, looking into his eyes. You gently grab his dick and begin to move your hand up and down, leaving Jay in a sweet mess full of moaning.

Then you get on your knees and lower your head until you reach his cock.

First you lick the tip, then his length. You look at him and see how his head is leaning back while rolling his eyes in the pleasure you're causing him.

Then you put it in your mouth and suck it, making his legs tremble slightly.

"Okay, that's enough before I cum right away"

He says to you, with a broken voice.

So you get up and lie down next to him.

"Okay then, I'm all yours, Jay."

He looks at you with a mischievous half-smile and positions himself between your legs, slowly parting them.

He runs a finger between your entrance.

"You're already so wet for me."

At his touch, you moan and tilt your head back.

"And so sensitive too"

He tells you before moving his dick closer. to your entrance.

He enters your vagina slowly, as if he’s afraid of hurting you.

But then, seeing how much pleasure he's making you feel, he starts to go faster with stronger thrusts.

While he's inside you, he approaches your lips and kisses you, and you both moan into the kiss.

You pull away slightly.

"Don't stop, oh god-, it feels so good"

You say, moaning more and more.

He lets out an amused sound.

"You too, baby, you're so tight, and your pussy feels so good around my dick."

He raises a hand and places his thumb on your clit, making circular motions.

His touch makes you see stars, and you grab the sheets and squeeze them tightly, arching your back.

"Jay I think I'm about to come"

You say, intertwining your arms around his back and digging your nails into it. Making him grunts.

"I think I'm about to come too, baby."

He continues to thrust into you harder and harder.

You both come at the same time, filling the room with your moans.

He collapses on top of you, breathing quickly, trying to catch his breath.

You both are lying down there, breathing heavily, entwined together.

When he looks at you.

"Look what your lipstick did. If it always ends up like this, you should wear it more often"

He says before giving you a sweet kiss on the lips and intertwining your hands with his.

“Oh, i will definitely doing that”

[luv1sour]

this is the most insane video of enhypen ever

[flashovrr]

hot men just look hotter mad

synopsis: enhypen arguing with you, watching you storm off, immediately regretting everything, and doing whatever it takes to get their favorite person back.

pairing: enhypen ot7 x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, arguments, relationship comfort, making up after a fight, emotional intimacy, mutual pining in established relationships, soft enhypen, boyfriend!enhypen, tension, yearning, hurt/comfort, affectionate enhypen, low angst happy ending

warnings: arguments, hurt feelings, mild language, mentions of crying,

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i js saw a vid on tiktok of enhypen when theyre mad n all i can say is...holy.fine.shyt. also...heeseung, ot7 wyd here 👀👀😂😂😂 (jk!!.....)

HEESEUNG

the argument starts over something stupid. most of your arguments do. not because either of you are immature, but because you're both the kind of people who get stuck inside your own heads and accidentally convince yourselves you're communicating when you're really just thinking out loud at each other. by the time heeseung realizes the conversation has gone from frustrated to genuinely hurtful, you're already standing up from the couch. you don't yell. you don't slam the door. you just shake your head once and walk away, and somehow that's infinitely worse.

he sits there staring at the spot you'd been occupying less than a minute ago, jaw tight, arms folded, trying very hard to stay annoyed. unfortunately, annoyance has never lasted very long when it comes to you. the second the apartment goes quiet, all he can think about is the look on your face before you left. not angry. disappointed. like you expected better from him. he hates that look. hates being the reason for it even more.

when he finally finds you, you're sitting on the floor beside the bed scrolling through your phone with the kind of concentration people only fake when they want to be left alone. heeseung lingers in the doorway for a moment before crossing the room and lowering himself onto the carpet beside you. neither of you says anything at first. the silence stretches long enough that he starts wondering if you'll make him work for this, and honestly, he hopes you do.

"i'm still mad at you," you mumble eventually.

"i know."

"good."

he nods. "i deserve that too."

the response catches you off guard enough that you finally look up. heeseung looks tired now, all the sharpness gone from his expression. there’s something unfairly sincere about him when he’s apologizing, something that makes it impossible to stay angry for as long as you planned. his shoulder brushes yours when he shifts closer. then again. neither of you moves away.

the tension changes before either of you acknowledges it. one second you're glaring at him, the next you're noticing how close he's sitting. how his gaze keeps lingering. how his hand is resting on the floor inches from yours. he notices when your voice softens. you notice when his eyes drop briefly to your mouth before immediately returning to your face.

"stop looking at me like that."

"like what?"

you roll your eyes.

he smiles for the first time all evening.

somewhere between his apology and your reluctant forgiveness, the distance disappears completely. his hand finds the side of your face almost absentmindedly, thumb brushing against your cheek as though he's reassuring himself you're actually there. the argument feels very far away now. all that's left is the lingering ache of missing each other while living under the same roof, of spending the last hour pretending you didn't want to be close.

when he finally leans in, it's slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to. you don't. his forehead presses against yours first, his hand settling at your waist, and the tension that had been coiled between you all evening finally gives way. afterward, neither of you remembers who won the argument. only that somehow you ended up curled together on the floor, his arms around you, both of you far more interested in each other than whatever started the fight in the first place.

JAY

jay is the type of person who needs ten minutes alone before he realizes he's wrong.

for those ten minutes, however, he is absolutely convinced he's the most reasonable person on earth.

the argument ends the second you walk away. not because either of you reached a conclusion, but because you simply stop participating. he watches you disappear down the hallway, expecting you to come back after cooling off. when you don't, he spends the next several minutes pacing around the kitchen replaying every word in his head. the problem is that the more he replays it, the less convincing his own side becomes. eventually he's standing in front of the refrigerator with absolutely no idea why he opened it.

when he finally finds you, you're sitting on the balcony wrapped in a blanket despite the fact that it isn't remotely cold outside. the city lights glow below, reflecting faintly in the glass door behind you. jay leans against the frame for a moment before stepping outside, hands shoved into his pockets.

"you know," he says, settling into the chair beside yours, "i had a really good argument prepared."

you don't look at him.

"tragic."

"it was."

"i'm devastated."

the sarcasm should annoy him. instead, it makes him feel relieved.

because you're talking to him.

jay sighs, tipping his head back toward the sky. "i was being stubborn."

"that's a nice way of putting it."

"i'm trying to grow as a person."

that finally earns a laugh.

small.

brief.

but enough.

the smile that appears on his face is immediate. you hate that. hate how quickly he notices every tiny shift in your mood. the conversation softens after that, neither of you quite ready to admit the fight was stupid but both of you knowing it anyway. somewhere along the way your blanket slips from your shoulder. jay reaches over automatically to pull it back into place.

neither of you comments on it.

neither of you comments on the way his hand lingers, either.

the air between you changes slowly. almost imperceptibly. one second you're discussing the argument, the next you're hyperaware of how close his chair is to yours. how he's looking at you now. how every time you glance away, his gaze follows.

"you're still mad," he says quietly.

"a little."

"fair."

"you should probably apologize again."

jay laughs under his breath. "trying to milk it?"

"absolutely."

he shakes his head, but he's smiling when he reaches for your hand. his thumb drags slowly across your knuckles. the gesture is so familiar it almost hurts.

"i'm sorry."

this time, there isn't a joke attached.

the silence afterward feels heavier than before. softer too. when you finally look up, he's already looking at you. neither of you says anything. you don't need to. 

all that's left is the way his hand tightens around yours and the expression on his face that always appears right before he forgets how to hide what he's feeling. by the time the balcony door slides shut behind you both, the city has disappeared completely from your attention, replaced by something infinitely more important.

JAKE

jake hates fighting with you.

not in the normal boyfriend way where arguments are unpleasant. he genuinely cannot function when you're upset with him. it's almost embarrassing. the second you walk away from the conversation, every ounce of confidence leaves his body.

the fight itself isn't even that dramatic. something about plans or communication. the fact that both of you have been stressed for weeks and are suddenly acting like the other person can read minds. by the end of it you're frustrated, he's frustrated, and neither of you is actually talking about the original problem anymore.

when you leave the room, jake immediately follows. you shut the bedroom door. he stops outside.

waits. counts to thirty, then knocks.

"what?" your voice sounds annoyed.

jake visibly brightens. because annoyed is much better to him than silent.

"can i come in?"

"depends."

"on?"

"whether you're about to be annoying."

"that's not looking good for me."

despite yourself, your lips twitch. 

jake notices.

of course he does. he notices everything about you.

the second he enters the room, he sits beside you on the edge of the bed like he's afraid you'll disappear if he leaves too much space between you. for a while, he just talks. not defending himself. not trying to win. simply explaining. apologizing. admitting he handled things badly.

it's frustrating because he's being sincere. and because he's looking at you with those stupid puppy eyes that make staying angry feel impossible.

eventually you groan and shove his shoulder.

jake immediately grabs your wrist, not forcefully, just enough to stop you.

the movement leaves both of you frozen for a second.

suddenly aware.

his expression shifts, yours does too. 

he's still holding your wrist and you're still sitting far too close together, and neither of you seems interested in changing either fact.

"you forgive me?" he asks softly.

"maybe."

"that's promising."

"don't push it."

his grin appears instantly.

there's something dangerous about a happy jake. he becomes impossibly affectionate. once he realizes you're no longer genuinely upset, he starts inching closer like a man with absolutely no self-control.

your shoulder touches his.

then your knee.

then your arm.

every time you move away, he follows.

eventually you stop trying.

his smile softens.

so does yours.

the argument fades into the background until neither of you remembers why it seemed important in the first place. all you know is that the room feels smaller now, warmer somehow, and jake is looking at you the same way he always does when he's overwhelmed by how much he loves you.

by the time he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against his side, the fight is completely forgotten. the only thing either of you cares about anymore is being close again.

SUNGHOON

sunghoon's biggest flaw during arguments is that he becomes quieter the more upset he gets.

most people assume silence means calm. with him, it usually means the opposite. every frustrating thought gets trapped inside his head until eventually he says something colder than he intended. the second the words leave his mouth, he regrets them.

unfortunately, by then you've already heard them.

the look on your face makes his stomach drop.

you don't argue back. you don't even raise your voice. you just stare at him for a second before turning away and disappearing into the guest room.

sunghoon remains frozen exactly where he is.

he hates when you get quiet.

hates it because you're normally expressive. emotional. impossible to read incorrectly.

when you stop showing him what you're feeling, he knows he's messed up.

fifteen minutes later he's standing outside the door wondering why apologizing suddenly feels harder than the argument itself.

when he finally walks in, you're sitting on the floor beside the bed sorting through absolutely nothing. a pile of books sits beside you untouched. your phone is face-down on the carpet.

you don't look surprised to see him.

which somehow makes him more nervous.

sunghoon lowers himself onto the floor across from you, legs stretched out.

the silence lingers.

then lingers some more.

eventually he sighs.

"i didn't mean that."

you keep looking at the floor.

"i know."

his chest tightens immediately.

because that somehow sounds worse.

you know he didn't mean it.

and you're still hurt.

sunghoon rubs the back of his neck, visibly frustrated with himself. "i wasn't listening."

"no."

"i was trying to prove a point."

"yeah."

another pause.

then, quieter this time, "i'm sorry."

finally, your eyes meet.

the sincerity on his face is impossible to miss.

sunghoon has never been particularly dramatic with affection. he isn't the type to give long speeches or make grand declarations. when he loves someone, he shows it in smaller ways. making sure you get home safely. remembering things you mention once and never again. paying attention.

which is exactly why seeing him struggle through an apology means so much.

he shifts closer before he seems to realize he's doing it.

then closer again.

the distance between you gradually disappears.

neither of you comments on it.

his shoulder brushes yours.

stays there.

the room suddenly feels much smaller than it did five minutes ago.

"still mad?" he asks.

"a little."

"fair."

you glance at him.

sunghoon glances back.

and just like that, something changes.

the tension isn't angry anymore.

it's something softer.

warmer.

the kind that appears whenever two people spend too long pretending they don't desperately want to be close again.

by the time his hand finds yours, the argument feels like it happened days ago. his thumb traces absent patterns across your skin while neither of you says anything. the silence that follows is infinitely different from the one before, filled with the quiet certainty that you'll both be okay.

eventually you end up leaning into him, and the relief on his face is immediate. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer without hesitation, and for the rest of the night neither of you has much interest in discussing the argument ever again.

SUNOO

sunoo cries when he's really hurt. the problem is that he also cries when he's really angry. which means arguments between the two of you can become confusing very quickly.

this one starts because both of you are stressed. it escalates because neither of you knows how to stop once emotions get involved. by the time it's over, you're both frustrated and slightly embarrassed.

you disappear into the bathroom.sunoo immediately regrets everything. every single thing.

he spends the next ten minutes pacing around the apartment looking increasingly miserable. by the time he finally knocks on the door, he's already prepared three different apologies and rejected all of them.

when you open the door, his expression somehow makes you feel worse. because he looks devastated.

"hi."

you sigh.

"hi."

"can i apologize now?"

"depends."

"on?"

"whether it's a good apology."

sunoo places a hand over his heart dramatically.

"wow."

despite yourself, you laugh.

the relief that floods his face is immediate.

he follows you back into the bedroom after that, talking the entire time. not because he's trying to avoid responsibility. because he's nervous.

sunoo gets nervous when your relationship feels off balance.

he hates distance.

hates tension.

hates feeling disconnected from you.

eventually the joking fades and the sincerity takes over. his apology becomes quieter. more genuine. he tells you exactly why he was upset. exactly why he reacted badly. exactly why he never wants either of you to go to bed angry.

by the end, neither of you remembers how the fight started. all you know is that he's sitting impossibly close. close enough that your knees touch. close enough that every glance feels loaded with something neither of you is naming.

sunoo notices first, you can tell.

"you're staring."

"you started it."

"did not."

"did too."

because suddenly neither of you is pretending anymore. the affection that had been hidden beneath the frustration all evening rises back to the surface, stronger than before. sunoo reaches for your hand without thinking. you let him.

and just like that, the distance disappears completely.

JUNGWON

jungwon is annoyingly logical during arguments.

normally that's a good thing. until it isn't.

because while you're trying to explain why your feelings are hurt, he's trying to solve the problem like it's an equation. eventually both of you become frustrated for completely different reasons.

the argument ends when you throw your hands up and walk away.

"seriously?"

"i don't want to do this right now."

the second your bedroom door closes, jungwon knows he should leave you alone.

the problem is that he doesn't want to. he lasts maybe seven minutes. eight if he's being generous.

when he finds you, you're standing at the kitchen counter making tea despite the fact that neither of you actually wants tea. you just needed something to do with your hands.

jungwon watches you quietly for a moment.

then reaches past you for a mug.

you immediately narrow your eyes.

"what are you doing?"

"making tea."

"you don't even like tea."

"i'm adapting."

the response is so ridiculous that you almost laugh.

almost.

jungwon notices.

his smile appears instantly.

"there she is."

you roll your eyes.

"don't."

"don't what?"

"be charming."

"i'm not trying to be charming."

he absolutely is.

the worst part is that it's working.

within minutes you're both standing shoulder to shoulder at the counter, the argument slowly unraveling into something much smaller than it felt before. jungwon apologizes eventually, though in a very jungwon way. direct. honest. surprisingly vulnerable once he stops trying to sound reasonable.

he admits he was listening to your words instead of your feelings.

you admit you probably could've explained yourself better. the tension eases.

but not completely. because now you're suddenly aware of how close he is. how his arm brushes yours every time either of you moves. how he keeps looking at you when he thinks you aren't paying attention.

"what?"

"nothing."

"liar."

jungwon grins.

caught.

the look he gives you afterward makes your stomach flip unexpectedly. not because it's intense. because it's familiar.

because it's the same expression he gets whenever he forgets to hide how much he adores you.

the kitchen falls quiet. neither of you reaches for your tea. neither of you seems particularly interested in moving away either.

the argument fades gradually, replaced by something much harder to ignore. the warmth between you feels almost tangible now, built from all the affection neither of you was willing to acknowledge while you were angry.

when he finally reaches for your hand, it feels inevitable. when you let him pull you closer, it feels even more so. and when the tea eventually goes cold on the counter beside you, neither of you notices.

NI-KI

ni-ki's problem is that he gets cocky when he's frustrated.

not intentionally. not because he's trying to hurt your feelings. but the more emotional a conversation becomes, the more likely he is to hide behind teasing, sarcasm, or that infuriating grin he wears whenever he's trying to pretend something doesn't affect him.

normally, you find it charming. today, you absolutely do not.

the argument builds slowly. one comment becomes another. then another. eventually you're both talking in circles, neither willing to admit that the actual problem has very little to do with what you're discussing. when ni-ki makes one joke too many, you just stare at him.

then you leave. the grin disappears immediately. he remains frozen in place for a second. then another.

"oh."

because suddenly he realizes what happened and suddenly the joke isn't funny anymore.

for the next twenty minutes, he attempts to convince himself you're overreacting. unfortunately, the longer he sits alone, the more obvious it becomes that you're not. eventually he gives up entirely and goes looking for you.

he finds you curled up on the couch in the spare room with a blanket pulled over your legs. the television is on, though you're clearly not watching it.

you don't even look surprised when he walks in, which somehow makes him feel worse.

ni-ki lingers in the doorway before slowly making his way across the room. instead of sitting beside you, he drops onto the opposite end of the couch. you immediately raise an eyebrow.

"what?"

"nothing."

"why are you sitting over there?"

"i thought you were mad at me."

"i am."

"right."

a pause.

then, dramatically, "this feels very far away." you roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.

the reaction makes him smile despite himself. there you are. he's missed you. which is ridiculous considering you've only been angry for thirty minutes. (still...!)

the realization settles heavily in his chest.

eventually the teasing disappears. the apology takes its place. not immediately. not gracefully. ni-ki struggles through it more than he'd ever admit out loud. but it's genuine, and that's what matters. you can see him trying. you can see how much he hates the distance between you. and unfortunately for your pride, that makes staying angry significantly harder.

somewhere in the middle of the conversation, he slides closer. neither of you acknowledges it. then closer again. still nothing. by the time your knees are touching, pretending not to notice has become impossible.

ni-ki notices it immediately. of course he does. his eyes narrow slightly. not suspicious.

amused.

"what?"

"nothing."

"you're looking at me weird."

"you're one to talk."

that earns a laugh.

a real one.

the first one all evening.

the sound brightens his entire face.

for a second, neither of you says anything afterward. you just look at each other. the room suddenly feels much smaller.

the couch too.

the argument seems impossibly distant now, replaced by something warmer and infinitely more dangerous to your concentration.

ni-ki reaches for your hand first.

you let him.

then he pulls you closer without hesitation, like he's making up for every second spent on opposite ends of the couch. the relief in his expression is immediate, almost unfairly honest for someone who spends so much time pretending to be unaffected.

eventually you're tucked against his side while he absentmindedly traces patterns across your arm, neither of you paying any attention to the television anymore. the fight is forgotten completely, buried beneath the quiet comfort of being close again, and by the end of the night the only thing either of you is interested in arguing about is whose fault it was in the first place.

[flashovrr]

under par

synopsis: golfing with jay should be easy. unfortunately, he's attractive. and even more unfortunately, he's good. what starts as a laid-back afternoon on the course turns into a full-blown competition the second he realizes you're a lot better than he expected. between the teasing, bruised egos, beers, and way too many distracting compliments, the game slowly stops being about golf at all. by the time you're alone in a golf cart watching the sun go down, neither of you seems to care much about the final score.

or

jay loses a golf game, decides to become everyone's problem about it, and spends the entire drive back making sure you know he'll be getting his "revenge" later

pairing: jay x fem!reader

tags: busy!heeseung, career-focused reader, late night drives, midnight walks, yearning, emotional intimacy, "i missed you", making out in the car (yay my fav to write), love languages, quality time, mutual understanding, workaholics in love, quiet romance, soft heeseung, established relationship but they're still obsessed with each other

warnings: making out, mild language

wc: ~1.9k

a/n: those predebut golf pictures jay posted on weverse genuinely cracked me up bro (they still do) 😂😂😂 but like shiii i didnt know we played the same sport this whole time 👀👀👀

the worst thing about golfing with jay was that he kept pretending he wasn't competitive.

he'd stand there looking completely relaxed, one hand tucked into his pocket, sunglasses sliding down his nose, acting like he couldn't care less about the score. meanwhile, he'd spent the last three holes keeping track of every shot, every putt, every ridiculous comment you'd made about his game.

"that was lucky."

jay turned toward you slowly.

"lucky."

"mhm."

"the ball went exactly where i aimed."

"that's what makes it lucky."

his jaw tightened.

you immediately started laughing.

"you are unbelievable."

"and yet i'm still winning."

"by one."

"winning is winning."

the look he gave you should've been annoying. instead, it made you grin even harder.

the problem was that somewhere around the seventh hole, the dynamic started shifting. up until then, you'd been perfectly content playing the role of professional hater. every decent shot he hit earned an insult. every successful putt became an opportunity to accuse him of cheating. everything was going according to plan.

then you accidentally reminded him that you were actually good.

not decent.

good.

the kind of good that made people stop talking halfway through a sentence.

you stepped up to the tee, adjusted your grip, and sent the ball sailing down the fairway with enough precision that even you felt a little proud of yourself.

when you turned around, jay was staring.

"what?"

he blinked.

"nothing."

"say it."

"i didn't realize you were taking this seriously."

"i'm not."

"that's somehow worse."

you bit back a smile.

jay shook his head and grabbed another beer from the cooler attached to the cart.

"you've been setting me up."

"for what?"

"to underestimate you."

"and?"

his eyes narrowed.

"it worked."

after that, the compliments started slipping out accidentally.

every time you lined up a difficult shot, he'd suddenly become very interested in watching. every successful putt earned a low whistle or an impressed shake of his head. at one point you hit a shot from an awful position near a bunker and landed it exactly where you'd intended.

jay stared.

then looked at you.

then looked back at the ball.

"okay, that's ridiculous."

you immediately looked pleased with yourself.

"thank you."

"that wasn't a compliment."

"it sounded like one."

"don't get used to it."

"too late."

the worst part was that he seemed genuinely flustered by it. not dramatically. not enough for anyone else to notice.

you noticed.

every time he caught himself watching your swing.

every time his attention lingered a little too long.

every time you looked up and found him already looking.

by the time you reached the back section of the course, the afternoon sun had softened into gold. the air felt warm. the beers had long since stopped being refreshing and started becoming a very bad influence.

there weren't many people around anymore.

just long stretches of grass.

distant trees.

and the occasional golf cart somewhere far away.

you climbed back into the passenger seat after another hole, still feeling smug from your last shot, when jay suddenly glanced around.

once.

twice.

like he was checking for witnesses.

you narrowed your eyes.

"what are you doing?"

"nothing."

"that's suspicious."

"you're suspicious."

"that doesn't even make sense."

jay laughed quietly and started the cart.

for about five seconds.

then he stopped it again.

you barely had time to question him before his arm hooked around your waist and pulled you closer across the seat.

"jay."

"hm?"

"what are you doing?"

"thinking."

"that's somehow worse."

his grin widened.

the golf cart suddenly felt much smaller than before.

one of his hands remained loosely on the steering wheel. the other rested against your side, warm and steady and entirely too distracting. he looked at you for a second.

then another.

then another.

you could practically see him trying not to smile.

"you've been showing off all day."

"have not."

"you absolutely have."

"someone had to make this interesting."

"i was doing fine on my own."

"debatable."

you rolled your eyes.

he looked pleased.

dangerously pleased.

the silence that followed felt different.

not awkward.

not uncomfortable.

just full.

full of every glance that had lasted too long that afternoon. every compliment disguised as an insult. every moment you'd caught him watching when he thought you weren't paying attention.

jay's gaze drifted briefly toward your mouth before returning to your eyes.

it happened so quickly you almost convinced yourself you imagined it.

then it happened again.

you definitely didn't imagine it that time.

"what?" you asked softly.

"nothing."

"liar."

his smile faded slightly.

not completely.

just enough.

"probably."

for a second neither of you moved.

the course stretched endlessly around you. somewhere in the distance a sprinkler clicked to life. the world kept going exactly as it always had.

yet somehow everything felt suspended.

waiting.

then jay reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

the gesture should've felt casual.

it didn't.

his fingers lingered briefly against your cheek before falling away.

your heart immediately betrayed you.

judging by the look on his face, his wasn't doing much better.

and then, in a moment that felt less like a decision and more like a surrender, he leaned in.

the kiss started softly.

not hesitant.

careful.

like he was letting himself enjoy something he'd spent the entire afternoon pretending not to want.

his hand settled against your jaw as his lips found yours, warm from the sunlight and faintly tasting of beer. for a second neither of you seemed willing to move beyond that simple contact. the entire day collapsed inward—the teasing, the competition, the stolen glances—until all of it existed inside one impossibly small moment.

then you smiled.

he felt it.

and immediately smiled too.

which somehow made everything worse.

or better.

probably both.

when the kiss deepened, it happened naturally. your hand found the front of his shirt without thinking, fingers curling into the fabric as though holding yourself steady. jay's breath caught softly, the sound brief enough that you almost missed it.

almost.

his forehead brushed yours when you finally pulled back.

neither of you went very far.

close enough to share the same air.

close enough to see the smile trying to form at the corner of his mouth.

"you know," he said quietly, eyes still fixed on yours, "i was planning on winning today."

you stared at him.

"that's what you're thinking about?"

"it's important."

"you're impossible."

"and yet."

his thumb brushed lightly across your cheek.

the look he gave you afterward made it very difficult to remember what you were annoyed about in the first place.

for a moment, neither of you spoke.

then jay pulled away completely.

started the cart.

and immediately accelerated.

"jay!"

the cart lurched forward.

you nearly slid sideways.

"jay!"

he was laughing now.

full-on laughing.

the kind that made it impossible to stay irritated.

"you are the worst."

"i know."

"i'm serious."

"i know."

you smacked his shoulder.

hard enough to make him laugh harder.

the cart bounced over a small hill, and suddenly both of you were laughing so much that neither of you could breathe properly anymore.

the golf cart rolls steadily down the path, sunlight flickering through the trees as the course slowly gives way to the clubhouse in the distance. neither of you seems particularly interested in getting there. your scorecard has long since been abandoned in one of the cupholders, and the conversation has drifted so far from golf that neither of you remembers who brought up the game in the first place.

jay's hand is still wrapped around yours.

not loosely.

not absentmindedly.

every so often his thumb moves across your knuckles in a slow, distracting rhythm that makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. you try looking out at the course instead. it lasts all of five seconds before you glance back and find him already watching you.

he doesn't even pretend otherwise.

if anything, he looks amused by the fact that you caught him.

"what?" you ask.

the smile that appears is immediate.

"nothing."

liar.

the word practically hangs between you.

jay's gaze lingers for another second before dropping briefly to your joined hands. when he looks back up, something about his expression has changed. not dramatically. just enough to make your stomach tighten.

he looks entirely too pleased with himself.

"you've been very confident today."

"because i won."

"technically."

you roll your eyes.

"there's no technically."

"maybe."

"jay."

his laugh is quiet.

warm.

dangerously self-satisfied.

and for some reason that makes it significantly worse.

the silence that follows stretches comfortably between you. the cart hums along the path. somewhere in the distance, another group is finishing their round. neither of you pays attention.

jay is still looking at you.

you wish he would stop.

you wish he would stop mostly because every time he does it, your thoughts immediately derail.

the worst part is that he knows.

he absolutely knows.

you can see it in the way the corner of his mouth keeps threatening to lift whenever your eyes dart away first.

eventually he shifts slightly in his seat, turning toward you just enough that your attention immediately locks back onto him.

"you know," he says quietly, "i think i'm owed something."

your heart stumbles.

immediately.

the confidence completely leaves your body.

which is unfortunate.

because jay notices that too.

of course he does.

his eyes brighten with unmistakable satisfaction.

"what?"

the single word comes out far less confidently than intended.

his smile widens.

there it is.

exactly the reaction he wanted.

"for emotional damages."

you stare at him.

he remains perfectly serious for approximately half a second.

then his mouth twitches.

"jay."

"what?"

"you're ridiculous."

"probably."

the answer comes easily, but his attention never leaves your face. not for a second. it's like he's studying every reaction as it happens, storing them away for later.

and somehow that thought makes everything worse.

your face feels warm.

you hate it.

he notices that too.

you hate that even more.

"you should see yourself right now."

"don't."

"i didn't say anything."

"you were about to."

"maybe."

his thumb slides once across the back of your hand.

the movement is small.

barely noticeable.

yet somehow it feels impossible to ignore.

jay glances down at your joined hands before lifting them slightly. his head dips and he presses a brief kiss against your knuckles, the gesture lasting only a second before he lowers them again.

the problem is the look he gives you afterward.

because he isn't smiling anymore.

not really.

there's still amusement there.

but there's something else underneath it now.

something calmer.

more confident.

the expression of someone who knows exactly what's happening and has absolutely no intention of helping.

"when we get home," he says quietly, "i'll think of something."

your breath catches before you can stop it.

jay immediately notices.

the smile returns.

slowly.

victoriously.

and suddenly you understand that this entire conversation has been a trap.

every second of it.

he wasn't trying to make a point.

he wasn't trying to win an argument.

he was trying to get exactly this reaction.

and judging by the look on his face, he considers himself wildly successful.

when you finally shove his shoulder, it's mostly to give yourself something else to focus on. jay only laughs, catching your hand before you can pull it away and lacing your fingers together again.

the cart speeds up slightly as the clubhouse comes into view.

jay looks entirely too satisfied with himself.

the worst part is that you have a feeling he's only getting started.

[flashovrr]

i lowk have sm drafts pilled up that i can FINALLY post now that i fixed my theme 😭😭😭 soooo js be ready for hella spam for a good week until my drafts are all cleaned out!!

AND YES...pls feel free to send me any requests bc i love hearing evbs awesome ideas :))) i will try to respond to them asap!!

[flashovrr]

wavelength

synopsis: being in love with heeseung is easy; finding time for each other isn't. after weeks of missed schedules and late nights, an unexpected midnight drive gives you both a chance to slow down, talk, and finally make up for all the time you've spent apart.

or

you and heeseung accidentally get a date night after two weeks of being too busy to function.

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, established relationship

tags: busy!heeseung, career-focused reader, late night drives, midnight walks, yearning, emotional intimacy, "i missed you", making out in the car (yay my fav to write), love languages, quality time, mutual understanding, workaholics in love, quiet romance, soft heeseung, established relationship but they're still obsessed with each other

warnings: making out, mild language

wc: 1.8k

a/n: in honor of me finding out me n heeseung r apparently the same mbti?? (were both js nonchalant intps 😂😂😂😂😂)

you know how it feels when you’re both busy in the same ugly, inconvenient way: not the productive kind that makes you feel proud at the end of the day, but the kind that leaves you staring blankly at your phone while trying to remember whether you replied to someone three hours ago or only thought about replying. it has been almost two weeks since you and heeseung last saw each other properly, and the worst part is that neither of you can even be mad about it. he is working hard. you are working hard. both of you are stubborn enough to treat exhaustion like a scheduling issue instead of a warning sign, so your relationship has learned to survive on voice notes, unfinished texts, photos sent without context, and the occasional call where one of you falls asleep before saying goodnight.

you pull into the parking lot close to eleven, one hand still loosely gripping the steering wheel even after the car stops. your whole body feels delayed, like your mind got home five minutes before the rest of you did. you’re reaching for your bag when another car turns in, headlights washing across your windshield for a second before angling away. you don’t look up properly until the driver’s door opens, and then you freeze, because of course it’s him. heeseung steps out in a hoodie, hair slightly messy, glasses sitting low on his nose, looking exactly as tired as you feel.

for a moment, neither of you says anything. it’s almost funny, the way you both just stand there across the parking lot as if you haven’t exchanged twenty-seven texts that week. then he blinks, like his brain has finally caught up with what he’s seeing. “you’re home late,” he says.

“so are you.”

“yeah,” he says, glancing toward the building, then back at you. “i was going to pretend i wasn’t.”

you huff out a laugh, closing your car door. “that’s a terrible strategy.”

“it usually works when no one is around to witness it.”

there’s a pause after that, a comfortable one. he looks at you with that quiet, unreadable expression he gets when he’s thinking three steps ahead but hasn’t decided whether the thought is worth saying out loud. you know that face too well. it usually means he’s either about to say something painfully sincere or suggest something completely unreasonable with the calmest voice possible.

“do you want to go somewhere?” he asks.

you stare at him. “right now?”

“yeah.”

“it’s eleven.”

“i noticed.”

“we both have work tomorrow.”

“i also noticed that.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but he only looks back, expression mild, waiting. that is the problem with heeseung. he doesn’t have to beg. he just presents an idea like it’s a strange little object he found and sets it between you, leaving you to decide whether you’re curious enough to pick it up. unfortunately, you usually are.

“where would we even go?”

he shrugs. “somewhere outside.”

“that’s not a location.”

“it’s a category.”

you hate that this makes you smile. you hate even more that the ache in your chest, the one you have been ignoring for days, loosens a little just from standing near him. “fine,” you say. “but if i regret this, i’m blaming you.”

his mouth curves, small and pleased. “reasonable.”

the drive starts with no destination, which should annoy you but doesn’t. heeseung keeps the music low, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the center console like he’s trying not to reach for yours too quickly. the city passes by in quiet pieces: closed restaurants, red lights with no cars waiting, convenience stores still glowing too brightly for the hour. neither of you talks much at first. the silence sits between you like something familiar. after so many rushed calls and half-finished messages, it feels almost luxurious not to explain yourself.

eventually, he points at a building with almost every window lit. “what do you think they’re all doing awake?”

“ummm... probably making bad decisions.”

“that’s broad.”

“accurate, though.”

“some of them could be working.”

“that counts.”

he laughs under his breath, and the sound is soft enough that you almost miss it beneath the music. then, because both of you are both tired and apparently incapable of having a normal conversation, you spend the next fifteen minutes debating whether the people in those apartments are more likely to be working late, doomscrolling, crying, eating cereal, or staring at a wall while pretending they’re about to sleep. heeseung argues that at least one person is reorganizing their entire life at 11:18 p.m. with no actual plan. you argue that it’s probably you in another universe. he says that makes sense.

by the time he parks near a quiet trail overlooking the city, the air has cooled enough to make you pull your sleeves over your hands. the place is almost empty, just a few distant streetlights and the faint sound of traffic moving somewhere below. you step out and immediately feel the difference between being tired indoors and being tired under an open sky. one makes you feel trapped in your own skin. the other makes it easier to breathe.

you walk side by side without touching at first. your shoulders bump once, then again, then neither of you moves away. the trail curves gently along the overlook, the city stretched beneath you in clusters of yellow and white, all of it looking much calmer from far away than it ever feels up close. heeseung walks with his hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly down, and you know he’s thinking because he goes quiet in that specific way, not absent, just somewhere deep inside his own mind.

“i missed this,” he says eventually.

you glance at him. “walking around at midnight like we’re unemployed?”

“technically, it isn’t midnight yet.”

“that’s your defense?”

“part of it.” he looks at the skyline, then back at the path. “i meant this. being around you without having to summarize my whole day in five minutes.”

something in you softens before you can stop it. “yeah,” you say. “i missed that too.”

he nods once, like the answer confirms something he already knew but needed to hear anyway. that is another thing about him: he never forces sincerity into a dramatic shape. he just says something quietly and lets it land. sometimes it is worse that way. sometimes it makes you feel more seen than any long confession could.

you stop near the railing when the trail opens up to the best view. the city below looks almost fake, like a model someone spent too long building. heeseung leans his forearms against the metal, and you stand close enough that your sleeve brushes his. neither of you speaks for a while. you don’t need to. the silence feels full, not empty, and you can feel the weight of the past few weeks slowly settling somewhere outside your body instead of on top of it.

“i think i forgot how much i like being near you,” he says.

you turn your head. “that sounds fake.”

“it’s not.”

“you forgot?”

“not forgot. more like…” he pauses, frowning slightly, searching for the exact word with the same seriousness he gives everything. “i got used to missing you. so this feels strange.”

you look at him for a second longer than you mean to. his face is half-lit by a streetlamp, tiredness sitting under his eyes, mouth relaxed now that he isn’t acting to be fine for anyone. “you’re so annoying when you say things like that.”

“because they’re accurate?”

“because i don’t know what to do with them.”

he smiles faintly. “you don’t have to do anything.”

that makes you look away first. not because you’re embarrassed, exactly, but because there are certain kinds of tenderness that feel almost too direct when you’re already exhausted. you check your phone mostly for something to do and see the time: 11:57. somehow the night has stretched without either of you noticing.

“it’s almost midnight,” you say.

“we should go back.”

“we should.”

neither of you moves.

heeseung notices. you know he does, because his smile deepens by a fraction. “very responsible of us.”

“extremely.”

“impressive, honestly.”

“we’re such role models.”

he lets out a quiet laugh, then finally pushes himself away from the railing. the walk back feels slower than the walk there. not because either of you is stalling, exactly, but because the air between you has shifted into something warmer, something more aware. his hand brushes yours once. then again. the third time, he catches your fingers lightly, like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to. you let him.

by the time you reach the car, the parking lot is empty. he unlocks it, but neither of you gets in. the headlights flash once and then go dark again, leaving you in the dim spill of the nearest lamp. you stand beside the passenger door, fingers still loosely threaded with his. heeseung looks at your joined hands first, then at you, and the quiet changes again.

“what?” you ask, though you already know.

“nothing.”

“you always say nothing when it’s clearly not nothing.”

“maybe i like consistency.”

“maybe you’re bad at lying.”

“also possible.”

his thumb moves once over your knuckles. it’s such a small touch, barely anything, but it makes your breath catch anyway. you are suddenly, intensely aware of how long it has been since you were close enough to notice the details: the little crease beside his mouth when he’s trying not to smile, the tired softness of his eyes, the warmth of him standing just in front of you.

he looks at your mouth. only for a second. then back at your eyes. “come here,” he says quietly.

you do.

the first kiss is gentle, almost careful, like both of you are testing whether the moment is real. then his hand comes up to your jaw, warm and steady, and you make a small sound against his mouth before you can stop yourself. that seems to undo whatever restraint he had left. he pulls you closer, not rough, just certain, and the kiss turns slower, deeper, the kind that makes the rest of the night go blurry at the edges.

you hold onto the front of his hoodie, fingers curling into the fabric, and feel him smile briefly when you tug him closer. “missed me?” he murmurs, lips still brushing yours.

“don’t start.”

“so...yes?"

“maybe...shut up”

he listens immediately, which is unfairly effective. your back meets the passenger door, and his hand shifts to your waist, careful even when the kiss grows less careful. there is nothing hurried about it, not really. it is more like both of you are making up for all the time you spent pretending that voice notes and goodnight texts were enough. his mouth moves against yours with a patience that makes you dizzy, and when you break away to breathe, he doesn’t move far. he just rests his forehead against yours, breathing unevenly.

“hi,” he whispers.

you laugh softly. “hi.”

“i missed you.”

this time, he says it plainly. no metaphor, no joke, no careful phrasing. just the truth.

you look at him, and whatever teasing response you had ready disappears. “i missed you too.”

his expression shifts, almost imperceptibly, but you catch it: relief, affection, something heavier underneath. then he kisses you again, softer now, lingering at the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your temple, as if he has all the time in the world even though both of you know he doesn’t. maybe that is why it matters.

eventually the cold starts to slip through your sleeves, and you shiver. heeseung notices immediately. “car,” he says, voice low.

you raise an eyebrow. “bossy.”

“observant.”

“annoying.”

“cold,” he counters, opening the passenger door.

you get in mostly because he’s right, and he joins you a second later, shutting the door behind him. the inside of the car is dim and warmer, carrying the faint scent of his cologne and late-night air. neither of you reaches for the engine. for a few seconds, you just sit there, looking at each other across the center console, both of you pretending you are about to be sensible.

then he leans over and kisses you again.

it is awkward for half a second because cars are never built for romance no matter what films suggest, and you both laugh into the kiss when his elbow knocks the console. but then his hand finds your cheek, yours finds the back of his neck, and the laughter melts into something quieter. you kiss him until the windows begin to fog at the edges, until the clock on the dashboard slips past midnight, until the tiredness in your body becomes something softer and less lonely.

when you finally pull away, your lips feel warm and your thoughts are scattered in every direction. heeseung looks no better, hair messier than before, glasses slightly crooked, mouth pink and curved like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“we should go home,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convincing.

“we said that thirty minutes ago.”

“we were right then too.”

“didn’t help.”

“no,” he agrees, smiling. “it didn’t.”

still, after another minute, he starts the car. the drive back is quiet again, but not the same quiet as before. this one is heavier, sweeter. his hand rests on your thigh for a moment at a red light, then returns to the wheel, and you look out the window so he won’t see the way you smile.

when you finally reach home, neither of you rushes inside. you walk up together, shoulders touching, fingers brushing in the hallway. at your door, he pauses behind you while you search for your keys, his presence warm at your back. you can feel him there without turning around.

“you’re coming in?” you ask, though it isn’t really a question.

he leans down, lips grazing the side of your head. “unless you’re suddenly very committed to sleeping early.”

you unlock the door.

“i’m not that responsible.”

his quiet laugh follows you inside, and the door closes softly behind you.