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@haeigoo
come as you are ♡ ⋆｡˚
ˋ°•*⁀➷ welcome ˘͈ᵕ˘͈
i′m pat (20+ ; s/h) and these are my self-insert drabbles
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
found you (zcl): short drabble about that time chenji made awkward eye contact in the bathroom and never spoke about it again. [08.23.23]
compass (sjh): short drabble about graduation worries, only for johnny suh to come into your life. [08.23.24]
hi czennies, friendly reminder that big corporations reach such extreme levels of economic, political, and social power bc they are so well designed to take advantage of your intelligence and manipulate your perception of them using highly sophisticated marketing strategies that allow them to monopolize the masses and influence their customer base like pawns in a big game of oppression chess 😍
they only care about money and self-interested business ventures!! and as every american knows, prolonged war is the most profitable business of all 🥰
please don’t embarrass yourselves by coming to their defense and trivializing their war crimes just bc it’s easier than unpacking your crippling attachment to the concept of mark lee that you hold in your mind 😇
exo we are one saranghaja
the need to know (l.dh) —part one
PAIRING. sneaky link!fwb!haechan x fem!reader GENRE. smut, fluff, mild angst, some humor CONTENTS. mentions of marijuana, explicit smut (unprotected sex, oral (receiving), overstimulation, praise kink, dom!haechan, switch!reader, breast play, nothing too crazy in this fic dw) WORD COUNT. in total, 40.4k, 13.5k in part one SUMMARY. you and haechan have undoubtedly had tension for the majority of your friendship. what happens when you act on it? PLAYLIST. the need to know (feat. sza) - wale // notice me - sza NOTES. i hope you enjoy! if you’re subscribed to my patreon, this fic is already published in full over there :) the next part will be up on wednesday, december 11th! :) friendly reminder that leaving nice feedback is incredibly sexy and very appreciated!
“I feel like we’ve been in line for these bumper cars for twenty minutes,” Haechan groans.
You check your phone and roll your eyes. “It’s been eight.”
“Well, eight too many! What’s taking so long?” he complains, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the numerous heads in front of you.
“Patience is a virtue,” Jihyo chimes in, and Haechan huffs.
“Well, I’m running out of virtue.” he mutters, and you snort. He looks over at you with a small grin. “You liked that, huh?”
“Yeah, that was kinda funny.” you admit, and his smile widens as he turns fully to face you.
“Well, you know what they say about funny guys,” he muses, and you look off into the distance thoughtfully.
“I don’t think I recall.” you say after a moment, and he narrows his eyes at you.
“They say funny guys are dangerous. They’ll make you laugh and chuckle and then they’ll make your knees buckle.” he announces proudly, and you shoot him a look.
“Literally who is saying that?”
“They are!”
“Who’s ‘they,’ Haechan? I want names and receipts, because I feel like you made that up.”
“Well, I don’t have names or, like, timestamps, but—”
“You have nothing to back you up, is what I’m hearing.” you reply with raised brows, and he scowls at you.
“You’re no fun. Why are you my favorite?” he mutters to himself, and you laugh.
“I’m your favorite?” you coo, leaning onto him with a smile, and he looks over at you with a smile he tried and failed to restrain.
“Unfortunately.” he grouches. “Hey, look, we’re moving!”
“See how time flies when you stop complaining?” you say as the eight of you move up. Shifting slightly behind you, Haechan steps on the back of your shoe, making your heel slip out of your sneaker. “What is your deal?”
“What are you talking about?” He’s the face of innocence, if you ignore the mischievous glint in his eyes.
“You did that on purpose.” you point out.
“What’d he do?” Jiwoo asks curiously, and you turn to her with a pout.
“He stepped on my shoe so it came off.” you complain, and Jiwoo rolls her eyes in Haechan’s direction.
“I did not!”
“You’re a bad liar.” Mark points out, and you smile, satisfied that your friends have your back.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” he replies, maintaining his innocence, and you huff, glowering at him before turning back around. When the line moves up, he does it again, and you growl under your breath, whirling around to face him once more. “Hi.”
“Shut up.”
“Ouch?” He places a hand over his heart like he’s been wounded, and you roll your eyes dramatically. “Words hurt, you know.”
“Not nearly as much as I wish they did.”
He gasps, loudly and obscenely, and points at you accusingly. “You want to hurt me?” He looks you up and down with budding intrigue. “Why is that kind of hot?”
You sigh loudly, resting your hand on his shoulder as you fix both of your sneakers. “You’re insane, and you’re a nuisance, Haechan.”
“Only to you,” he coos, and Renjun clears his throat pointedly from his spot in front of you two.
“Not true. I also find you to be a nuisance.” he adds.
“I thank you for the support, Renjun, but you find most things to be a nuisance… so that’s not really a surprise.” you say carefully, and his brows knit together thoughtfully before he shrugs, nodding in agreement.
“Fair point. On the bright side, we’re almost at the front of the line,” he points out, and you shift to Haechan’s side as you all step up.
“Aw, you wanted to stand next to me?” he teases.
You blink at him. “You can’t fuck with me if I’m standing right next to you.”
“Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.”
“And if I throttle him?” you announce to your friend group.
“He’d probably moan,” Jaemin says regretfully, and Haechan nods, eyes wide with glee as he presents you with his neck.
“I definitely will. Go for it.”
“Have you no shame?” Jaemin remarks, scandalized, and Haechan pauses to think.
“No.”
“Lovely. Great.” Jaemin mutters to himself, and Haechan smiles, pleased. “Can this line move so I can hit Haechan with my bumper car?”
“Agreed,” Jihyo says.
“Amen,” Mark chimes in.
“Retweet!” Jiwoo adds.
“Period.” you agree.
“Damn, even you?” Haechan exclaims, looking at you with a frown.
“Do you have short term memory loss? Did you forget how you deliberately made my shoes come off, like, two minutes ago?” you ask incredulously, and he rubs his chin thoughtfully.
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I’m going to harm you physically.”
“Maybe come stand next to me,” Jihyo offers, gently pulling you forward in the line towards her.
“Yeah, and you come here.” Jeno suggests, yanking Haechan backwards in line by the collar of his jacket.
“I don’t wanna stand next to you!” Haechan complains. “You smell like weed.”
“I took an edible today.” Jeno remarks plainly, and Haechan wrinkles his nose.
“The stench is embedded in your clothes.”
“I washed this jacket yesterday.” Jeno answers flatly.
“Well, in my defense, how was I supposed to know that?” Haechan huffs.
“Can you shut up and move up? We’re next, I think.” Jeno pushes Haechan forward in the small of his back, and Haechan crumples with a wail, stumbling forward to clutch onto you.
“He stabbed me!”
“Poor baby,” you coo, embracing Haechan as he clings onto you.
“I cannot, for the life of me, make sense of you two.” Jihyo chuckles with a shake of her head, and you shrug, the movement difficult due to Haechan holding onto you.
“He’s cute when he whines.” you answer, and Haechan coos at you fondly, nuzzling his nose into your neck affectionately.
“I think you’re the only person who thinks that,” Jeno chuckles, and you shrug again.
“Don’t listen to him,” Haechan mumbles, words muffled by his face being squished against your neck. “He’s mean. He stabbed me.”
“I poked you.” Jeno sighs with a roll of his eyes.
“You jabbed me!” Haechan counters, and you stroke Haechan’s hair, shushing him gently.
“It’s okay,” you hum soothingly. “You’re safe over here as long as you don’t get on my nerves again.”
“I’ll be such a good boy,” Haechan promises, and your eyes widen in surprise, your sharp intake of breath catching in your throat and making you cough for a second.
“Did not expect you to say that,” you mutter when you recover, and he chuckles, tilting his head up to look at you.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” he teases, and you blink down at him blankly.
“Shut up before I make you stand with Jeno again.”
“Shutting up.”
Finally, your group moves up to the very front of the line, the attendant briefly going over the rules. The eight of you agree to follow the guidelines and he lets you in, all of you scurrying to get in a car. You spot a cute, baby pink bumper car and get in that one, strapping yourself in and quickly familiarizing yourself with the controls.
The attendant hits the buzzer to begin the timer for your session, and you all start to drive around the course, quickly getting the hang of the controls and maneuvering the small vehicles.
You’re careening down the course when you’re bumped from the side, sending your car veering into the guards on the wall. You glare over at the culprit, Haechan grinning flirtatiously as he surges forward, repeatedly bumping your car closer and closer to the corner and more off-course.
“Haechan, pick on someone else.” you complain, and he scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.
“You’re so fun to mess with, though.” he says with an attractive pout.
“God, you’re lucky you’re cute.” you mutter, missing too late the way his eyes flash with satisfaction and budding mischief.
“What was that?” he calls over to you, placing a hand behind his ear.
“I didn’t say anything.” you huff, and he raises an eyebrow skeptically.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Too bad? Not my problem.” you reply with a shrug, and he narrows his eyes.
“Don’t make me come over there.”
“How are you gonna come over here when we can’t leave our bumper cars?” you ask, rolling your eyes.
“I’ll get out and come over there and climb right onto your bumper car.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Jeez—” you mutter, huffing and puffing before admitting, “I said, ‘you’re lucky you’re cute.’”
He grins widely and runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it up casually before he speaks. “How lucky am I, hm?”
You shoot him a wary look. “Haechan, what are you talking about?”
“I wanna get lucky tonight.” he says slowly, wiggling his brows, and you blink at him, waiting to see if he’s serious before an incredulous scoff-laugh escapes you involuntarily.
“I suggest you get real acquainted with your hand, Haechan.” you chuckle, starting to drive forward and bump him out of your way.
“You’re cruel,” Haechan laments. “What happened to me being cute?”
“You’re still cute,” you assure him, blowing him a kiss. “Just not that lucky.”
“Next time,” he calls out to you as you drive away, and you wave him off dismissively.
You half-wish you hadn’t brought up the image of Haechan touching himself, because now it’s all you can think about; his hand gripping himself, the way he might stroke—fast, slow, tight, with a flick of the wrist—
“Pay attention, girl!” Jihyo laughs, bumping into you as she drives by. Rapidly blinking out of your reverie, you realize you’ve been slowly veering in towards the center of the rink, your car riding along the guard rails, and you do your best to clear the Haechan-induced fog in your mind.
The rest of the bumper car session passes fairly quickly, with shrieks and giggles of delight and Haechan repeatedly bumping into you “by accident.” When you get out of the bumper cars, your legs are a bit wobbly, but the light, bubbly feeling you have in your heart more than makes up for it.
“Can we please go on a roller coaster next?” you say hopefully, and Jihyo frowns instantly.
“Those make my stomach drop… I’m gonna pass this time.” she says apologetically, and you nod in understanding, although your face falls a bit.
“We just ate corn dogs and funnel cake, like, right before the bumper cars, and if we go on, we might blow chunks.” Jeno explains, gesturing between himself, Mark, and Jaemin.
Jiwoo looks over at them in confusion. “When did you have time to get food?”
“We snuck off,” Jeno admits sheepishly. “Well, I snuck off… Mark and Jaemin just followed me.”
“You just sensed corn dogs and funnel cake so you wandered off?” Jihyo snorts, and Jeno looks even more embarrassed now than he did earlier.
“I smelled them…” Jeno admits quietly, and you blink, surprised.
“Okay, bloodhound.” you joke, and Jeno snorts in amusement. “So Mister Super Sniffer and his greedy nosy companions are out, Jihyo’s out… I can tell by the look Renjun’s giving me that he’s also out…”
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Jiwoo? Haechan?” you ask hopefully.
“I’m sorry, girl, I’m just—I’m kinda scared.” she admits quietly, a small frown on her face.
“Aw, okay,” you reply sympathetically, squeezing her hand gently. You look over at Haechan hopefully, and to your relief, his face softens into a fond smile. “That’s the smile you give me when I’m about to get my way,” you say excitedly, and he chuckles, something warm and inviting in his eyes.
“I’ll go with you.” he agrees, and you squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck for a hug. “Careful, now, before I ask you to ride something else.” he murmurs in your ear suggestively, one hand moving to clutch at your waist, and you gasp, releasing him instantly.
“You’re gross.” you scold him.
“What’d he say?” Jiwoo asks curiously, and you narrow your eyes at Haechan before waving your hand at her dismissively.
“You don’t want to know. Let’s go, Haechan!” you chirp, grabbing his hand and pulling him after you to the biggest, baddest roller coaster you can find.
When you get in the line, Haechan sighs loudly as he looks at the numerous people ahead of you.
“We’re gonna be in this line forever, you know.” he complains.
“Worth it if I get to ride this thing.” you say, looking at the rollercoaster lovingly.
“You are so cute.” Haechan coos, squishing your cheeks until your lips pucker out.
“Can you unhand me, you fiend, you?” you huff, pushing his arms until he releases you with a frown. “You like being treated like a baby; I don’t.”
“Oh, really?” he asks, brows raised in a challenge. “So if I offered to hand feed you and tie your shoelaces and coo at you all the time, you wouldn’t like that?”
“Oh, I’d love that. But that’s being pampered, not being treated like a baby.” you say, and Haechan rolls his eyes.
“Same thing.”
“Nuh-uh! Pampering is treating me like a princess, not a baby.”
“Is that right?” he muses thoughtfully. You nod, and he chuckles, continuing on to say, “So I’m dealing with a little pillow princess, huh?”
“Hey!” you exclaim, looking over at him in surprise.
“Relax, I happen to love pillow princesses.” he assures you, and you eye him warily. “I do! Something about the idea of a pillow princess lying back and letting me do whatever I want to you…” he trails off with a dreamy smile, and you blink rapidly in alarm.
“Her?” you suggest, and he looks over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Huh?”
“You said ‘you’ instead of ‘her,’” you point out, and he nods slowly, clearly not getting your point. “The way you said it made it seem like you were fantasizing about… doing that… to.. me…” you say, trailing off slowly as his brows lift as if to confirm what you’re saying. “Oh.”
“Oh,” he copies you, stepping closer with a grin. “Now what, hm? What’s so wrong with me thinking about you like that?”
“We’re friends, Haechan. Friends don’t typically fantasize about their friends.” you remind him.
“Friends should be allowed to fantasize about their friends,” he counters, “as a treat. Especially when their friends look as good as you do.”
“You’re such a flirt.”
“You know you’re lowkey into it.” he replies confidently, and you hate that he’s right.
“Move up, I think we’re gonna be in the next group.” you say, deliberately shifting the topic.
Haechan eyes the moving line ahead of him and looks back at you with a smile that says he knows exactly what you just tried to do, but relents and moves forward regardless.
As he turns to move, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, realizing that maybe, just maybe, Haechan’s a bit more serious about his flirting than you thought he was, and you have yet to determine how you feel about that.
The smell of cheese and pepperoni pizza fills the bowling alley, almost a pleasing enough aroma to mask the faint but still present smell of sweaty socks and shoes. You sip your diet Pepsi and look around the room; there are birthday parties for children, teenagers congregated by the fountain soda machine, and a smattering of tired parents sitting in the chairs by the bowling ball dispensers—and then there’s your group of friends, eight twenty-somethings far more rambunctious and chaotic than the younger age groups present.
“You’re up,” Jihyo calls to you, nudging you gently, and you sigh heavily before setting down your drink and standing up, making your way to the bowling balls.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you announce loudly to your friends, and you pick up a sparkly pink ball, walking over and just rolling it down the lane with no thought towards strategy or physics or anything of the sort.
To your surprise, you manage to hit three of the corner pins, your ball coming dangerously close to landing in the gutter, and you hear Haechan snicker behind you.
“Laugh it up, Haechan; not everyone is good at bowling. Some of us have other strengths.” you huff, glowering at him, and he raises his hands in defense.
“Hey, I didn’t say anything!”
“You laughed. That’s arguably worse than saying anything.”
“Maybe you should stick to the influencer thing… live life on easy mode, you know?” he says with a wry grin, and you watch as Jiwoo freezes, Jaemin audibly gasps, Mark smacks Haechan on the arm, and Jeno and Renjun exchange a look of disapproval.
“Oh, that’s not–” Jihyo starts, but you hold up a hand to silence her.
“Haechan, do you have any idea how difficult my job is? Just because I don’t spend my days learning the intricacies of Cobra—”
“Python,” Haechan corrects.
“Whatever! Just because I don’t have to submit pages upon pages of technical jargon to my boss, that doesn’t mean I have it easy.” you huff, placing your hand on your hip as you stare him down.
“How hard can it be to be an influencer?” Haechan says with a dismissive roll of his eyes. “I have to submit a code to my boss by midnight, and you have to, what? Do a TikTok?”
You glower at him. “You’re horrible. My job comes with the constant pressure of maintaining public approval, and you know how they have hive minds on TikTok! One day, you’re good, the next week, you could be nothing and everyone’s in your comments talking about, ‘Oh, you fell off,’ or, ‘Not you flopping.’”
Haechan levels his gaze at you, raising an eyebrow. “You get to go on social media and shake your cute little ass for a living… stop whining.”
You blink at him for several beats, processing which part of his statement to address first. “...Did you just call my ass little?”
He rolls his eyes and stands up from his spot, walking in the narrow space between you and the bowling ball dispenser. “More importantly, I called it cute.” he points out, and you can’t help but smile. “Personally, I think your ass is perfect.” He murmurs in your ear, and you hum softly in acknowledgement.
“Oh, yeah? Is that why you spend so much time looking at it?” you ask, and he grins.
“Absolutely. How else do you think I made such an astute observation?” he chuckles, picking up an emerald green bowling ball and lifting it in the air. You watch as his forearm muscles tense with the strain of managing the extra weight of the ball and do your best to hide your staring. “Why? Does that bother you?” he wonders, raising his eyebrows handsomely.
You think about it for a second. “It probably should, huh?”
Haechan grins brilliantly. “Does that mean you like it?”
“I never said that.” you reply, shooting him a look. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
He chuckles and turns from you briefly to bowl, the ball rolling down the lane in a perfect straight line before it hits the center pin and subsequently knocks every other pin down. He turns back to you, smiling smugly, and says, “It’s all in the subtext, baby.”
“Baby?” you echo incredulously.
“Yes?” he answers as if you’ve called him, eyes glinting with mischief, and you roll your eyes with an undeniable smile growing on your lips.
“You’re too much.” you mumble, laughing softly, and he smiles at you, his eyes twinkling.
“Can’t handle it?” he murmurs in your ear as he passes by you, heading back to his seat.
“Never said that, either,” you say as you walk over to him and sit beside him. “Just think it’s kinda crazy to call me ‘baby.’”
“Why is that crazy?” he hums, reaching behind you to rest his arm on the bench behind you, his fingertips grazing your shoulder. “Should I call you something else? Honey, baby girl, angel, babe—”
“Shh!” you giggle, reaching to cover his mouth, but he dodges your attack smoothly, eyes alight with mirth as he joins in on your laughter.
“What? Pretty, gorgeous, cutie, sexy—” he continues, dodging your attempt to silence him again and grinning cheekily. “I could do this all night.”
“Please don’t,” Mark and Jeno pipe up in unison. You look over at them with a slight jump, having temporarily forgotten you and Haechan aren’t even remotely alone in this building.
“Killjoys.” Haechan mutters mostly for your ears, and you laugh quietly, covering your mouth to remain inconspicuous. “It’s your turn again,” he points out with a jerk of his chin at the lanes as he pops a piece of gum in his mouth, and you manage to tear your gaze away from his jaw and the attractive way it moves as he chews for long enough to stand up and walk over to the lanes again. “Want them to put up the rails?” he teases, and you turn back to glare at him. “I’m just trying to help you out,” he says, hands raised defensively, and you raise an eyebrow.
“Maybe you should come show me how to do it, then.” you suggest with a small smile, and he chuckles before rising to his feet and striding over to you.
He’s quick to place his hands on your sides, squeezing gently before carefully repositioning you. It doesn’t take long for his hands to slide down to your hips, pulling you back against him so close you can feel his chest rising with every inhale he takes.
“You wanna start with your feet like this,” he murmurs in your ear, manually moving your legs by holding under your thigh just above the back of your knee until he’s satisfied.
“Like that?” you muse softly, looking over your shoulder at him, and he sucks in a breath before chuckling to himself under his breath and nodding.
“Just like that.” he assures you, but the way his voice dips when he says it leads you to believe there’s a suggestive meaning to his words. “Next, you’re gonna bend your arm like this and hold the ball just a bit in front of your shoulder.” he instructs gently, and when you do as he says, he smiles, pleased. “That’s it,” he encourages you, his voice dropping to a deliciously low pitch with that same suggestive lilt. “Bend your knees a little bit and put the foot that’s gonna slide slightly behind the foot that’s gonna stay still.” You do, looking back at him for approval, and he nods proudly. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” you say confidently, and he squeezes your hips slightly before releasing you. You send the ball rolling down the lane in a perfectly straight beeline for the center pin, the ball knocking it and all the pins behind it over, and you squeal with excitement, wrapping your arms around Haechan’s neck and pulling him in for a hug. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer, and just like that, the vibe of the hug shifts, his touch electrifying you as he tucks his face in your neck, breathing in deeply.
“Good job,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, lips grazing your skin ever so slightly but making you shudder nonetheless.
There’s a loud, obscene retching noise from behind you two, and you both break apart in alarm, turning to look at the source of the noise, Renjun sitting with a very displeased expression on his face and his arms crossed.
“Can we help you?” Haechan asks slowly.
“Yeah, you can get a room.” he says with a grossed-out scowl, and you remove your arms from around Haechan’s neck sheepishly, warmth blooming in your cheeks.
Haechan doesn’t release you just yet, though, still maintaining a firm grip on your waist and the small of your back until you clear your throat gently and his gaze shifts from glowering at Renjun to looking down at you with a question in his eyes. Your throat dries, not expecting his full attention so suddenly, and he lets out a tiny chuckle, lips quirking up into a smile before his eyes drop to your lips.
Your lips part subconsciously, and his grip on you tightens slightly before Jeno clears his throat pointedly, garnering your attention once more.
“Yes?” Haechan asks impatiently.
“A room. Get it.” Jeno remarks with a grimace, and you carefully pry Haechan’s hands off of you, since it seems like he won’t be doing it himself.
“Don’t be a hater,” Haechan remarks with a huff. “It’s not a good look on you.”
“Desperation isn’t a good look on anyone, either, but here you are.” Jeno counters, and Haechan frowns before he looks back at you with a pout.
“He’s so mean,” Haechan whines dramatically, pulling you to stand in front of him. He points at Jeno accusingly. “He hurt my feelings.”
“Don’t worry, Haechan,” you coo, turning to face him. “I happen to think you look very cute when you’re desperate.”
He grins. “Thanks.” His brows furrow in thought a second after, and you wait patiently, eyebrows raised expectantly, for the rest of the sentence to kick in. “Wait—hey!”
“There it is.” you chuckle. “For a software designer, your processing is surprisingly slow.”
“You’re mean, too.” he laments, pouting in a way that’s somehow both cute and handsome. “You’re lucky I kinda like it when you’re mean.”
“Oh, do you?” you muse thoughtfully, reaching up and running your hand through his hair. His eyes flutter shut and a blissful smile makes its way onto his face. “Do you prefer it when I’m mean or nice?”
“Nice, for sure.” he sighs happily as you repeat your motions of playing with his hair. “I like when you dote on me.”
“Is that why you’re such a whiny baby?” you chuckle, and he nods.
“Only for you.”
“Aren’t I lucky?” you drawl sarcastically, and Renjun snorts.
“I’d consider the rest of us deeply unlucky for having to witness it.” he chimes in, and you look back at him.
“Then close your eyes.” you hum dismissively, and Renjun gasps in disbelief.
“I think they’re worse when they’re on the same page.” he remarks to Jeno, who nods.
“They’re definitely worse together, if you ask me.” he agrees, and Haechan opens his eyes to narrow them at Jeno.
“Good thing I didn’t ask, then.” you reply, and Haechan grins at you.
“That was hot.”
“Down, boy.” you warn him playfully, and he wets his lips slowly and deliberately, grinning when your gaze drops to his mouth. “What did I just say?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.” he says with a cheeky grin. “Got distracted.”
“By what?”
“Take a guess.” he suggests, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he looks you up and down.
“There’s, like, no hope for you, is there?” you laugh, and he shakes his head.
“No, ma’am.”
(You ignore the way the term of respect makes something tingle inside of you.)
“Guys, I think Deadpool tickets sold out,” you say worriedly as you enter the movie theater.
Jihyo looks over at you, confused. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, it says ‘Deadpool sold out’ right under the movie time listings, so… that kinda gave me a hunch.” you explain, pointing right at the sign, and Jihyo frowns.
“Maybe that’s an old sign,” Haechan says, striding over to the front desk confidently. “Hi, can we get eight tickets for Deadpool, please?” You don’t get to hear the woman’s response, but you do see her point behind herself at the sign you very much just pointed to. Haechan’s shoulders slump slightly and he walks up to your group once more. “They’re sold out.”
“Gee, how unfortunate. If only there was some way we could have known… some sort of sign, perhaps… maybe one that your dear friend already pointed out…” you lament sarcastically, and he narrows his eyes at you.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Oh, I can. Not only can I, but I will.” you retort, and he scrunches his nose at you.
“Well, can you two stop doing that weird foreplay banter thing you do so we can pick a new movie to watch?” Mark asks, and you splutter, surprised.
“That is not what we’re doing—” you start to defend yourself, but Haechan cuts you off.
“No, no, no, that is what I’m doing.” he says, and you slowly turn to look at him in disbelief.
“You shut up.” you huff, crossing your arms. “What are we gonna watch now?”
“We could watch The Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” Renjun suggests. “They’re re-releasing it.”
“How about we not?” Haechan says instantly, brows knitting together in distaste.
“No, I think it’d be fun!” Jiwoo chirps.
“I’d rather actually be able to sleep tonight, thanks.” you disagree, shifting to stand next to Haechan.
“Well, how about we just split up and see what we want?” Jihyo suggests, and you shrug, looking over at Haechan.
“Wanna see a romcom or something?” you ask him, and the corner of his lips quirks up into a smile.
“Sure thing.” he replies, and Renjun gags.
“Can we go get the tickets now?” he half-requests, half-pleads. “I can’t bear witness to whatever these two have going on for much longer.”
“You dramatic ass whiny baby.” you scoff, and Renjun glowers at you.
“You call me a whiny baby, but when Haechan goes on his whiny baby tirade, it’s all ‘poor Haechan,’ and ‘poor baby;’ what about me?!” he complains, and you raise an eyebrow in amusement.
“Renjun, if you want me to baby you, you could just ask.”
“No, you can’t,” Haechan cuts in, taking your hand and pulling you towards the ticket booth.
“Wh—Haechan!” you laugh incredulously.
“I’m the only one you can dote on,” he huffs petulantly at you before turning his attention to the attendant at the ticket booth. “Good evening; could we get two tickets to, uh…” he looks over at you and you roll your eyes with a smile before scanning the movie listings briefly.
“We Live In Time,” you finish, and he nods resolutely.
“We Live In Time,” he echoes, and the attendant smiles and nods, typing something into the computer.
“That’ll be $20,” she says, and Haechan reaches into his back pocket and pulls his phone out, tapping it to the card reader.
“Ooh, and you paid? What a gentleman,” you pretend to fawn over him, and he chuckles.
“You know I’ve got you, baby.” he remarks casually, and his sincerity stops you in your tracks.
Why was that so attractive?
The attendant prints out two tickets and hands them to Haechan, who takes them with a smile and a “thank you” before looping his fingers with yours once more and leading you further into the movie theater.
You want a snack from the concession stand?” Haechan asks as you two walk by it, and you look over at him.
“Maybe? Why; are you buying?” you half-laugh, not expecting him to agree.
“Yeah, come on.” he urges, leading you over to the snacks. “What do you want?”
“Sour Patch Kids,” you answer, pointing at the box. “The strawberry ones.”
“Good choice,” he remarks, amused as he takes the box from the display and hands it to the guy behind the counter. “Can we also get a large popcorn?” He turns back to look at you. “You want something to drink?”
Taken aback by but admittedly attracted to this energy from him, you nod—obediently, even. “Sprite, please—no ice.”
“Large Sprite, no ice, and a large Mountain Dew, please?” he finishes the order and you step forward to stand beside him, trying your best not to look at him with hearts in your eyes.
When you two get to the theater where they’re showing your movie, Haechan gestures for you to lead the way, so you do, picking a spot close to the back of the theater and sitting down.
He sits down next to you, setting the popcorn between your seats, and drapes an arm over the back of your chair.
“How smooth,” you drawl sarcastically, and he grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“You know you like it.” he replies confidently, and you try to hide your smile as you focus your attention on the screen as the trailers start to play.
It’s about thirty minutes into the movie, and paying attention is harder than you thought, considering Haechan’s doing everything in his power to make you focus on him instead.
At one point, you reach for popcorn, startling yourself when instead of feeling a buttery popcorn kernel, you feel the warmth of Haechan’s fingers.
“It was fate,” he coos sweetly at you, and you narrow your eyes at him playfully.
“Move your hand or I’ll throw popcorn at you.” you threaten, and he laughs, tipping his head back in mirth.
“You’re so cute,” he sighs in delight, eyes twinkling as he watches you fondly. “Fine, I’ll move my hand—”
“Great.”
“But you have to feed me a piece of popcorn.” he says with a smirk, and you blink at him incredulously.
“You’re really something, you know that?” you chuckle, picking up a piece of popcorn and bringing it to his lips. “Open.”
He obliges, sticking his tongue out flat, and you place the fluffy popped kernel on his tongue, trying the whole time not to think about how nice his tongue looks, glistening in the light from the movie screen.
“Thank you,” he hums, chewing happily, and you snap out of it, clearing your throat and returning your attention to the movie. “What a coincidence that it’s just the two of us,” Haechan remarks quietly, and you turn your head to look at him. “Are you sure you didn’t just want a chance to be alone with me?”
You sigh. “Haechan, this movie was my idea. You followed me in here.”
“Watch that cute little mouth of yours before I revoke your snack privileges.”
“You touch my snacks and I’ll make you wish you were at the mercy of that Texas Chain Saw Massacre killer.” you promise him, and he exhales quietly through his nose in amusement.
“Don’t worry, baby; I wouldn’t actually dream of getting between your snacks and your little sweet tooth.”
“Good.”
“Actually,” Haechan muses, and you turn to look at him again. “That’s probably why you and I get along so well.”
It’s your turn to exhale through your nose in a quiet laugh. “Why, because you have a sweet tooth, too?”
“Because I’m sweet.” he answers plainly, like it was obvious, and your snort of amusement is loud enough that someone else in the theater shushes you.
“Is that what your mom tells you?” you tease, and he glowers at you.
“Hey! I’m a delight!”
“Didn’t say you weren’t,” you reply with a smile, and he matches it, leaning a little closer as his eyes drop to your lips.
“Wanna see how sweet I can be?” he asks softly, and you find your breath hitching as he leans even closer.
His lids drop slightly in preparation for the kiss, but you press a Sour Patch Kid treat to his lips instead, smiling innocently when he opens his eyes with a slow flutter.
“What was that for?” he whines slightly, and you raise your eyebrows.
“You seemed like you wanted to taste something sweet.” you hum, and he frowns handsomely at you.
“You know what I wanted.” he huffs, and you shrug, returning your attention to the movie.
“Pay attention to the movie.”
“I’d rather pay attention to you.”
“And as much as I love attention, I’m trying to pay attention to the movie, which I am struggling to do with your repeated attempts to put the moves on me.”
“Oh? I’m distracting you?” he murmurs, a smug smile audible in his voice. “Sorry, baby.”
“It’s okay, baby,” you say as he pops a piece of popcorn in his mouth, and he sucks in a sharp breath, promptly choking on the piece of popcorn and making you whip your head around to look at him in alarm.
He glowers at you as he recovers, your eyes bright with amusement once you’ve assessed that he’s in no real danger. “That was evil.”
“I’m evil.”
“That’s hot.”
“Haechan?”
“Yes, baby?”
You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “Pay attention.”
“Maybe I could if you weren’t flirting with me.”
“Get real, Haechan.” you snort.
“Baby, there’s no one realer than me.”
“Baby,” you say, stressing the pet name, “pay attention and stop flirting with me before I stuff more popcorn down your throat.”
“Damn, that’s kinda hot.”
“Haechan!” you whisper loudly, laughing in surprise and incredulity, and several voices shush you from around the theater.
“Can’t help it; you’re kinda hot when you’re bossing me around.” he defends himself, and you roll your eyes.
“Get a hold of yourself.” you huff, and he frowns.
“I’d rather get a hold of you instead.”
“I’m sure. Too bad.”
“God, you’re a tease.” he sighs dreamily, and you shoot him a funny look out of the corner of your eye.
“Sure, if that’s what’ll make you shut up.”
“I kinda love it.”
“Shut up before you get us kicked out!” you whisper insistently, your cheeks warming at his incessant flirting.
“Mm, yes, ma’am.” he groans, the sound so suggestive you whip your head around to look at him in surprise, scandalized. “I like when you’re bossy.”
“I’m ignoring you now.”
“You can try.”
“I will succeed.”
“You’re already failing,” he points out with a grin, and you scowl at him, pointedly looking forward at the screen without another word.
Even with the music filling the room and the numerous bodies in between you two, Haechan’s staring is getting harder and harder to ignore. His eyes bore into you from all the way across the room where he stands talking to Jeno and Mark, and it’s so intense it’s almost palpable, prompting you to meet his gaze with a raise of your eyebrows.
He grins, flicking his eyebrows upwards, and you chuckle, turning your attention back to Renjun’s rant about his neighbor.
“...and then he had the nerve to tell me to ‘keep my music down’ as if he’s not up at the asscrack of dawn doing construction in his apartment!”
“What a hypocrite,” you say with a grimace, and Renjun nods vigorously, relief written all over his face.
“I’m surprised you even heard any of that,” Jihyo remarks, raising an eyebrow at you as she sips at the straw sticking out of her drink.
You shoot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“Well, with all the eye-fucking you and Haechan keep doing, I figured you were a little preoccupied.” she comments, and you narrow your eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, turning your nose up with a sniff.
“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t lie to me.” she says with a playfully stern look. “Now, what’s going on with you and Haechan?”
“Yeah, what is going on with you and Haechan?” Renjun asks curiously, leaning forward in anticipation to hear you better.
“Nothing!” you say defensively, and Jihyo arches an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah? Then why is he coming over here?” she asks with a knowing smile that only grows when you subconsciously fix your hair as, sure enough, Haechan approaches, eyes on you the whole time. “Hi, Haechan.”
“Hey,” he replies distractedly, tilting his head to the side as he regards you. “Hi,” he says to you, his lips quirking up into a smile.
“Hi,” you answer, mirroring his expression.
There’s a beat of silence before Renjun speaks. “‘Hi, Renjun. How was your day? I totally see you standing to my right, and I’m definitely not ignoring you like a piece of lint—’”
“Hi, Renjun.” Haechan says with a laugh, and Renjun glowers at him, muttering something under his breath about going where he’s appreciated before stalking off, presumably to subject another one of your friends to his tirade about his neighbor. “You having fun?” he asks you, and you nod, prompting him to smile widely and puff out his chest slightly before saying, “More now that I’m here, right?”
“Sure, Haechan,” you reply with a small laugh, and Jihyo just raises her brows at both of you.
“I’m gonna go find Jiwoo,” she says, shooting you in particular a secretive smile before disappearing into the crowd of people.
Haechan immediately steps into the space she occupied, now much closer to you, and his smile widens even more before he speaks, murmuring, “I like your top. You look so good tonight, but I’m sure you knew that.”
“I did,” you confirm, and he snorts. “But thank you. You look good, too.”
“Oh, yeah? We’re kind of matching.” he points out, gesturing to your black lace up top and his dark gray Nirvana t-shirt.
“Are we? That’s gray.” you reply with a growing smile.
“Dark gray and black are practically the same color.”
“But are they actually the same color? No.”
“Why are you being difficult?” he says with narrowed eyes, and you shrug.
“It’s my specialty.” you answer with a beguiling smile, and he rolls his eyes, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he feigns exasperation.
“Anyway,” he stresses the word, shifting the conversation. “Do you wanna get some fresh air with me?”
“Mm, not really; it’s kinda cold outside.” you say with a small pout.
“You can wear my jacket,” he offers, and you pause, thinking about it.
“Maybe later. For now, do you wanna come with me to the kitchen? I want a snack.” you ask, and he smiles at the invitation before nodding.
“Lead the way, baby.” he coos, and you roll your eyes with a smile as you do just that, reaching back to link pinkies with him.
“So we don’t get separated,” you explain.
He beams. “Good idea.”
You two make your way through the throng of bodies and into the kitchen, where you promptly start raiding the cabinets.
“I love Jeno and Jaemin to death, but their snack selection is shit.” you huff in disappointment, turning back to Haechan to see that he’s propped himself up against the kitchen counter, watching you with amusement and intrigue.
“Jeno went on a snack purge the other day,” he reminds you. “Said something about overly processed foods and saturated fats.”
“Well, sorry if I like my foods overly processed and my fats saturated.” you gripe, and Haechan laughs, pushing off the counter to walk over to you.
“I think they have fruit in the fridge,” he says, leaning into your space to open the refrigerator door. He pauses before he pulls back, eyes trained on your lips and his own lips part in a soft sigh, tongue poking out to wet them.
“The snacks?” you remind him with a growing smile, unable to resist glancing at his very tempting mouth.
“I’m looking at one,” he breathes, and you burst out laughing, pushing him back gently.
“That was very cheesy.” you giggle, and he shrugs shamelessly.
“It made you laugh, so I consider it a win.” he says with a soft, fond smile.
Your cheeks flare with warmth, not used to the gentleness and sincerity in his eyes, and divert your attention to the now open fridge, picking out a container of grapes that you hope are washed as you pop one into your mouth and chew. The burst of sweetness is very welcome on your tongue, and you lean back onto the fridge, closing your eyes in bliss.
“Better?” he chuckles, and you nod.
“Want one?” you say, offering him a grape, and he nods, leaning in to eat it from your fingers. Before he pulls back, he looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his sultry gaze too much for you at the moment and making you return your attention to the container of grapes with an urgency that doesn’t go unnoticed by Haechan.
“Cute.” he murmurs softly, and you huff, trying (and failing) to hide your budding smile at the compliment.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you say, carefully extracting yourself from the small space he’s got you cornered in.
His eyes twinkle with amusement as he raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Was that an invitation?”
“It most certainly was not.”
“Aw, man. Next time?” he asks hopefully, and you snort.
“Don’t count on it.”
You do your best to hold your breath as you make your way through the hallway, stopping by the window for a moment before sticking your head out and breathing in the fresh air gratefully. After a moment of relief, you decide to open the window wider, climbing out and sitting on the windowsill, feet carefully resting on the fire escape attached to the side of the building.
It’s quieter over here, you note, pleased with your newfound situation as you scroll through your phone. Sure enough, when you open Instagram and tap on Jeno’s story, you see two boomerangs; one of him and his friends sitting in a circle around his bong, and one of him blowing smoke out of his mouth.
You tap the heart for both posts before footsteps pull your attention away from your phone, making you turn your head to see the newcomer.
Haechan stops about a foot away from the window, leaning against the wall. “I thought I’d find you out here. Thought you said it was too cold?”
“It is, actually, but this air doesn’t reek of weed.” you explain, and he nods in understanding.
“Mind if I join you?”
You wordlessly scoot over to make room for him, and he smiles, climbing out and sitting beside you. The side of your leg presses against his as he makes himself comfortable, but you don’t really want to move it.
So you don’t, and you just silently appreciate the warmth radiating from his body as he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.
“Thank you,” you say sincerely, and he smiles at you, nodding.
“The city looks so pretty like this,” Haechan sighs, and you direct your gaze straight ahead of you, taking in all of the city lights in the nearby buildings and the bridges in the distance. “It’s almost as pretty as you,” he says, nudging you with a cheeky grin, and you exhale through your nose in amusement.
“It is pretty,” you agree. “Someone’s feeling flirtatious, I see.”
“Can you blame me? You show up tonight looking as good as you do and expect me not to want to be all over you?” he snorts, and you raise your eyebrows, slightly surprised by how forward he’s being.
“‘All over me?’” you repeat, and he nods, looking you directly in the eyes. “Like… all over me?”
“You interpret it however you want to, baby.”
“You’re gonna have to stop calling me ‘baby,’ by the way; it’s starting to confuse me.” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow.
“How so?”
“I think I kinda like it,” you confess, and his gaze drops to your lips instantly, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.
“Oh, really?” he murmurs suggestively, running one finger around one of the rips on the thigh of your jeans, and he chuckles softly as you shiver slightly, goosebumps raising on your arms. “Cold?”
“Something like that.” you reply evasively, and he snorts, his smile widening.
“Back to what you were saying… about liking when I call you ‘baby,’” he quickly returns to the previous topic, and you roll your eyes slightly in amusement. “What’s so wrong with that?”
“Friends don’t typically call each other ‘baby.’” you point out, and he shrugs.
“Maybe we can be special friends.”
“Oh, yeah? Special how?”
“Maybe we call each other cute names… touch a little bit… kiss a little bit…” he trails off, and you look over to see that he’s watching your lips again, a small grin on his lips.
“Mm, that could get messy though.” you murmur, and he gazes at you, longing openly written all over his handsome features.
“Life is messy.” he points out.
“This doesn't have to be.” you reply, gesturing between the two of you. Haechan links his fingers with yours and sets your linked hands on top of your touching thighs, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “That feels nice,” you sigh, leaning against him slightly.
“I bet I could make you feel even nicer.” he muses suggestively, and you snicker.
“Won’t lie and say I’m not a little curious.” you admit, and he sucks in a sharp breath of surprise.
“Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs. “I don’t particularly feel like holding back right now.”
“Oh, is that what you usually do?” you reply, speaking as soft and low as he just did.
He nods. “You always tempt me, actually—I’m just not feeling like beating around the bush right now.”
You raise your eyebrows in surprise and—you won’t lie—intrigue. “And what’s making you feel like that right now?”
“A number of things,” he replies. “How unbelievably good you look tonight, the way I can see the goosebumps on your skin when I touch you, and,” his voice gets even softer but carries an urgency you don’t believe you’ve heard from him before, “the way you’re looking at me.”
“And how am I looking at you?” you question, tilting your head to the side curiously.
“The same way I’m always looking at you.” he answers, and you don’t need him to elaborate.
“So if that’s all true,” you muse, regarding him carefully, “then why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
“I like what we have,” he says in reply, and you smile. “Wouldn’t want to ruin it.”
“And what if I said I kind of want you to ruin it?” Your words are quieter than ever, tentative even, but by the way the fire in Haechan’s eyes intensifies, you know he heard you all the same.
“What did I just say about tempting me?”
“It wasn’t a temptation,” you say carefully. “It was an invitation.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “You know, I’ve never been one to ignore my urges before,” he admits. “If I want something, I get it.”
“Oh, yeah?” You can’t even try to hide the arousal building in you as you watch his lips with uninhibited longing.
“Yeah.” His gaze matches yours, unbridled desire swimming in his eyes as he slowly leans in, and you find yourself mirroring him, the two of you moving painfully slowly as you get closer and closer.
“And what is it that you want right now?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
“I bet you can guess,” he murmurs as his lips brush the corner of your mouth.
“Give me a hint.” you reply, and he grins, turning your face towards him gently and bringing his lips to yours.
It starts slowly, his lips gently moving with yours, before he pulls back ever so slightly, your eyes opening to see him watching you carefully.
“Good?” he murmurs.
“Good,” you confirm, and he smiles before leaning back in to close the gap between your lips. This kiss is much less tentative, his lips parting to suck gently at your bottom lip, and when you whine softly, he pushes forward, reaching up to cup your cheek as he captures your lips with his over and over again, each kiss more dizzying than the last until his mouth is moving fervently against yours, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth with a quiet groan.
Your hand finds its way to his thigh, and as soon as it makes contact, it’s like a switch flips in Haechan, his lips leaving yours to kiss the corner of your mouth, your cheek and along your jaw before finally settling comfortably on your neck, mouth kissing, sucking, and licking at your pulse point.
“Haechan,” you whimper, and he hums against your neck, but you can tell he’s not really listening. “Haechan,” you sing-song softly in another attempt to get his attention, but he just slips his hand under your thigh farthest from him, scooping your legs up and moving them to drape over his lap. “Haechan,” you whine urgently, and his kisses finally falter, the male pausing but not moving away from you as he waits for you to speak. “Can we go somewhere more private and… less chilly?”
He pulls back, lips deliciously puffy from kissing, and nods with a dazed look in his eyes. “Jaemin’s room?”
You don’t even have it in you to be considerate of your friend, the lust clouding your mind and doing away with your judgment as you nod. He grins and ducks back into the apartment, helping you do the same before leading you to Jaemin’s room, never once letting go of your hand.
When you two get to Jaemin’s room, you’ve barely cleared the doorway before Haechan shuts the door and pushes you up against it, kissing you ardently and clutching your waist to drag you closer to him. He nips at your bottom lip briefly before kissing down your neck and sliding his hands up to cup your breasts, squeezing them and looping his finger in the string tying your top together.
“Why don’t we take this off, hm?” he murmurs, slowly pulling the string with a growing grin as the bow—the one Jiwoo so carefully tied for you earlier this evening—comes undone, leaving no resistance when Haechan pulls your top over your head.
He eagerly returns to kissing you, hands groping at your chest as he traces circles around your slowly hardening nipples. He pulls back from the kiss slightly and moves like he’s about to kiss down your neck, only to whine and bring you back in for another kiss, panting against your lips, “I wish I had more mouths.”
“You what?” you say, bursting into giggles so strong that you can barely manage to kiss him back, and he joins you in your laughter.
“Stop, I’m being serious!”
“I know—I think that’s why it’s so funny,” you say through your laughter, and he growls in lighthearted frustration before whirling you around and all but shoving you onto the bed. You squeal in surprise, giggling still as you bounce on the bed, and he rolls his eyes, climbing on top of you. “What kind of eldritch horror are you thinking of becoming? Like how many mouths and where?”
“Can we just—forget I said that?” Haechan whines, and you shake your head with a gleeful giggle.
“I don’t wanna,” you say with a pout, wrapping your legs around his waist, and he groans in exasperation. “I’m kind of a monsterfucker, so you saying that really got me going.”
“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” you ask, looking up at him, and he slowly shakes his head—whether it’s in disagreement or in disbelief, you’re not sure, but when his lips start trailing down to your collarbone, you’re not entirely sure it matters anymore.
“I’d want mouths on the palms of my hands,” he grunts, cupping your breasts again through your bra, “so I can kiss you and suck your tits at the same time.” Before you can respond, his wet, swollen lips fall to your chest, tongue trailing all over your exposed skin before he’s tugging the cup of your bra down and taking your nipple into his mouth.
A whimper escapes you, spurring Haechan on further, and he wraps one arm around you, pressing between your shoulder blades to bring your chest closer to his mouth. His tongue is warm and wet as it flicks at your nipple, Haechan groaning as he swirls it around and around your stiffened bud.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he mumbles around his mouthful of your breast, and his other hand trails down your body to settle between your legs, Haechan delivering two gentle pats to your inner thighs in a wordless request for you to spread them. When you oblige, he smiles around your nipple before wetly licking and sucking his way from one breast to the other. His fingers quickly and deftly unbutton your jeans, barely yanking them down before his hand slips into your pants, stroking along the seat of your underwear, pressing down harder when you whine.
“Haechan, please,” you moan, running your fingers through his hair and tugging gently when you reach the ends.
“Mm, what is it, pretty? What do you want?” he teases with a quiet laugh, looking up at you as he pushes your underwear aside and trails two fingers up your slick folds, hissing in delight. “Is this what you want?” he asks, dipping his fingers into your entrance slightly and relishing the groan of frustration you let out.
“Yes,” you moan, tugging his hair a bit harder in retaliation for his teasing.
Finally giving into your demands, he pushes his middle and ring finger into your core, lapping at your nipple as you whimper loudly in relief. “Shh, shh, shh—I know, baby, I know.” he soothes you in a hushed murmur, slowly starting to pull his fingers out before pushing them in deeper.
“Feels good,” you exhale shakily, and he coos in understanding.
“It’ll feel even better in a second,” he promises, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. “Just gotta open you up first.” He releases your nipple, giving it one last lick before moving back up to hover above your face, gazing down at your pleasure-filled expression in wonder before he’s leaning down to kiss you, silencing your cries of pleasure as he starts to twist and scissor his fingers inside of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet. All this for me? Hm?”
“No, it’s for Renjun,” you huff sarcastically, breaking the kiss momentarily to glower at him. “Of course it’s for you, dummy.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “There is a time and place for your sass, and it’s not when my fingers are literally inside of you. Besides,” he says, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gasp in pleasure, “why would you be mean when I’m making you feel so good, hm?”
“S-Sorry,” you stammer as his curled fingers massage at your inner walls in search of your g-spot, which he finds quickly, eliciting a sharp whimper from you as you clench around his fingers. “It’s all for you,” you confirm breathlessly, and he grins before kissing you again.
“Good girl. You’re gonna have to make it up to me, though.” he murmurs against your lips, and you pout, prompting him to coo fondly and kiss you again. “Even with that cute little pout.”
“I said sorry,” you complain, and he shrugs, fingers quickening their pace inside of you.
“I’m sensitive.” he replies simply, kissing down to your neck and sucking and biting at various spots until you’re sure there are marks blooming all over your skin. “It’s okay, though—I know how you can make it up to me.”
“H–How?” you ask warily, voice catching as the pleasure builds inside of you, his repeated stimulation of your g-spot bringing you closer and closer to climax as your insides tighten in anticipation.
“Cum for me?” he grunts, and you can’t tell if it’s a request or a stated demand, but you nod, breath hitching and your cries escalating in pitch as you start to do just that, your climax washing over you as your abdomen tenses repeatedly, your body curling in on itself as much as possible given that Haechan’s practically pinning you in place.
“That’s it, baby,” he purrs, coaxing more of your climax out as he keeps fucking you with his fingers, milking your orgasm for everything he can get, your entrance drooling clear evidence of your arousal all over his fingers and into the seat of your underwear. “Making such a pretty little mess for me,” he breathes, kissing you again as his fingers urge the last convulsions of your climax out of you.
You’ve barely recovered before your hands reach for his pants, fingers clumsily unbuckling his belt, undoing his button, and yanking down his zipper. He chuckles fondly and pushes them down to his knees, your eyes locking in on the imprint of his length in his boxers as he palms himself through his underwear.
“You like what you see?” he teases, and you furrow your brows.
“Your underwear’s in the way.” you grouch, and his eyes brighten with amusement, thumbs hooking into his boxers and pulling down until his length springs free. “Much better,” you hum, pleased as you rest your head down on Jaemin’s pillow.
“Look so pretty laying like that.” he grunts as he slowly fucks his fist. “Wish I could take a picture and keep it forever.”
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully.” you say, and he raises a brow expectantly. “Please fuck me.”
The brightness in his eyes remains, but now there’s a heavier, darker edge to his gaze as he leans over you, lips teasing yours apart.
“Did you just beg for me?” he coos tauntingly, and you sigh.
“I did not beg. I asked nicely.”
“Sure, baby. I’ll give you what you want,” he promises, lining the head of his cock up with your entrance and slowly pushing into you, making your breath catch in your throat. He exhales deeply and dips his head down to your neck, latching onto your skin and sucking as he starts to drag his length out and back in, building a teasingly slow rhythm.
“So full,” you gasp, and he chuckles, kissing up your neck to your lips.
“You feel so good, pretty girl. Tight little pussy keeps sucking my cock back in; you like this that much?” he coos, one hand groping your breast.
“Don’t tease me,” you huff, and he grins widely.
“How are you gonna stop me?” he counters smugly, choosing that moment to speed up the movements of his hips until the sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, each thrust punctuated by a whimper from you. “You’re not going to do anything about it; you’re just gonna lay here and take this dick nice and deep in your little pussy until you cum all over it.”
“Fuck, Haechan—” you mumble, dazed by his thrusts and even more by his filthy language.
“You love it, don’t you?” he teases, capturing your lips in a filthy kiss where he plays with your tongue almost lazily.
“Uh-huh,” you can barely manage to get out, and he hums in satisfaction.
“Show me how much you love it.” he urges, rolling his hips against yours sensually. When you start to move your hips against his, rocking up into his every thrust into you, he rewards you by sucking on your bottom lip and flicking your nipple back and forth with his thumb. “Fuck, that feels so good, pretty girl, keep doing that.”
You fuck him back to the best of your ability, that familiar tightening sensation in your stomach alerting you to your impending climax. “Haechan, think I’m gonna cum—” you warn him, and he nods, pinching your nipple just enough to make you squeal.
“Cum, baby; wanna feel you clench around my cock.” he purrs, and your climax hits a moment later, a cry slipping from your lips as your back arches, your hand clutching his arm for something to ground yourself as your body curls in on itself involuntarily. “That’s it, pretty girl—doing such a good job—squeezing my cock so tight, baby, fuck—”
By the time your climax has passed, you’re still trembling slightly as aftershocks of pleasure travel through you with every thrust from Haechan, and you’re so wet you can hear his length moving in and out of you, hear your pussy sucking him back in as it hugs his length tightly, and heat rises to your face.
“My turn, baby; think you can take my load?” he grunts, and you nod instantly, clenching around his length every time he bottoms out in you. “That’s my good girl,” he coos fondly, his brows knitting together as he starts to release into you. “Milking me dry, baby, fuck—” he hisses, and you smile in satisfaction as he shudders, lowering himself to kiss you as he fucks the last bit of his cum into you.
Finally, when his length stops throbbing inside of you, he pulls out and lies down next to you, both of you breathing heavily.
“Hey,” he says, turning his head to face you.
“Hi,” you reply with a smile, and his lips curl into a matching smile.
“You okay?” he asks gently, and you nod.
“Better than okay.” you assure him, and he sighs, relieved. A thought comes to your mind and you nudge his leg with your knee. “Hey.”
“Hi?” he answers curiously, and you roll onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow.
“If you had multiple mouths—”
“Please let it go, it was silly—” he interjects with a half-chuckle, half-groan.
“I like silly!” you counter, and he looks over at you skeptically, his features relaxing when he reads the sincerity in your face. “If you had multiple mouths, would you have them anywhere besides your hands?”
He thinks about it for a moment before he nods. “I’d have one on each thigh… so while I’m kissing you, I can grope your tits with my hand-mouths and have you sit on my thigh so I can eat you out, too.”
You shudder slightly, and he raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I got a little excited.”
“You’re joking… damn, you’re kinkier than I thought. That’s hot,” he grunts appreciatively.
“I think we should get up before Jaemin comes in here and chops our heads off.” you say suddenly as the reminder that this is not somewhere you want to be caught fucking dawns on you.
“You’re so right,” he agrees, sitting up and helping you off of the bed. You both hurriedly redress, Haechan stumbling as he pulls his pants up and making you both giggle. “Ready?” he says finally, fully redressed.
You ruffle his hair, messing with it until it’s back in place, and hold the strings to your top out to Haechan. “Tie it for me?”
He smiles fondly and steps closer, tying a cute bow into your top and leaning back to inspect his handiwork. “You’re good, baby.”
“Thanks,” you say sincerely, opening the door and heading back to the party. You two give each other a knowing look before you enter the living room and go your separate ways, Haechan heading for Jeno and Renjun while you head for Jiwoo and Jihyo. “Boo!” you say from behind them, and Jiwoo whirls around, clutching her chest.
“Shit!” she exclaims. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry,” you reply without a hint of remorse.
“Where’d you go?” Jihyo asks curiously.
“I was on the fire escape,” you explain, deciding to tell a half-truth. “I didn’t want to smell Jeno’s weed.”
“Ah, fair.” she answers with a nod.
“Hey, your bow is different.” Jiwoo points out, pointing at the bow on your shirt that Haechan tied. “Did you take your top off or something?” she snorts, amused with her little joke, but Jihyo looks over at you carefully, shrewd gaze scanning your body for anything else out of place.
“No, I just had to re-tie it because one of the strings got caught on one of the screws on the fire escape and it looked all wonky,” you lie, and Jiwoo nods in understanding.
“Copy that. Well, I’m hungry; wanna go raid their fridge?” she offers, and you start to nod, but you freeze when you feel something drip out of your core.
“I am totally in, but I have to use the bathroom first.” you say, clasping your hands together in a pleading gesture. “Wait for me?”
Jihyo’s still staring at you like she’s silently interrogating you, and you won’t lie and say you’re not unnerved. “Earth to Jihyo?”
She blinks slowly before focusing her gaze on you once more, eyes now softer and less scrutinizing. “Sorry, I was just… thinking. Yeah, we’ll wait for you.”
“Cool,” you say, relieved, before making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. You make quick work of peeing and sorting yourself out, washing your hands and drying them before heading back to the living room where Jihyo and Jiwoo and, to your surprise, Haechan stand. “I’m back!” you chirp before looking over at Haechan. “You weren’t here a minute ago.”
“Jeno and Renjun started bickering about something, so I left.” he replies with a shrug. “You don’t mind if I join you guys, right?” he shoots you a knowing look with a secretive smile, and it takes everything in you not to start giggling like a schoolgirl.
“I guess you can,” you say nonchalantly, and he beams at you.
“Great! Where are we going?” he asks curiously, and you point towards the kitchen.
“To find snacks!” Jiwoo says eagerly, and you all walk to the kitchen, you and Haechan starting to fall to the back of the line until he’s side by side with you.
“You already said their snack selection was garbage,” he remarks, confused, and you shush him.
“Yeah, but I’m not getting a snack; Jiwoo is. So we’ll let her figure that out for herself,” you explain, and he nods in understanding.
“I see,” he hums thoughtfully. “Well… did you tell them? About earlier—”
“No,” you answer, and he sighs in relief. “Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.”
“Copy that,” he chuckles, fingers brushing against yours before they intertwine and he squeezes your fingers gently. When you look down at your linked hands and back up at him, he smiles cheekily. “So we don’t get separated,” he says with an upwards flick of his eyebrows.
You roll your eyes but pull him forward, finally entering the kitchen in time to see a cranky Jiwoo.
“Their snack selection is ass. What am I, a rabbit?” she laments, and you smile in amusement.
“They’re great at house parties, bad at refreshments.” Haechan says, and Jihyo looks over at you two before her gaze drops down to your linked hands, an eyebrow raising in suspicion.
You carefully and casually let go of Haechan’s hand by running your fingers through your hair, and Haechan fixes his mouth to complain before he looks in Jihyo’s direction and seems to understand, relaxing slightly.
Between Haechan’s need for attention, your inexplicably magnetic attraction to each other, and Jihyo’s deeply suspicious and perceptive gaze, you know you have quite a night ahead of you.
The following morning finds you back at home sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through your phone and checking your engagement before a text banner notification drops down from the top of your screen.
haechan [10:08am] good morning 😌 did you miss me? you [10:10am] sorry……who’s this? haechan [10:11am] you’ve GOT to be joking 😟 you [10:13am] i very much am 💖 good morning haechan ☀️ haechan [10:15am] don’t play with me like that i almost crashed out haechan [10:15am] can i come over? i have a question for you you [10:16am] haechan what are we doing rn haechan [10:17am] ….talking? you [10:17am] right… and would you consider talking a synonym for ‘having a conversation’ or no? haechan [10:18am] ……….yes……….. is this a trick question you [10:20am] so if we’re already having a conversation, by your definition….. why, pray tell, can’t you just ask me NOW 🤨 haechan [10:22am] *Message sent with Invisible Ink* maybe i just wanted a reason to see you ☹️ you [10:24am] oh… well that’s cute actually haechan liked your message “oh… well that’s cute actually” haechan [10:25am] awesome…… so can i come over? 😁 you [10:26am] ofc you can 💖 haechan [10:27am] great can you let me in 😁
You tilt your head, confused by his message, but a knock on your door makes you practically jump out of your seat. You make your way to the front door and look through the peephole, barking out an abrupt laugh when you see Haechan sporting a cheesy grin on the other side of the door.
“You are insane,” you laugh as you open the door for him, inviting him inside. He enters, still sporting the playful smile, and shuts the door behind himself.
“In, like, a cute, hot, sexy way, though, right?” he asks hopefully, and you roll your eyes with a smile before shrugging and nodding, watching as relief floods his features.
“Your question?” you ask, getting straight to the point, and he visibly balks, the normally shameless Haechan becoming quiet and shifty. “Haechan?” you call his name with a tinge of worry in your voice.
“Did you have a good time last night?” he asks, and you raise your eyebrows.
“That’s your question?” you question, in disbelief.
“I’m building to it,” he explains. “Now: did you have a good time last night?” he repeats, and you blink at him impassively before sighing in slight defeat.
“I did,” you answer, not sure if he meant the party or… well, the sex… but you had a good time regardless of which he meant. “Did you?”
“I had an amazing time.” he says sincerely.
“Great,” you reply, just as sincerely. A small silence passes before your impatience gets ahold of you. “Haechan…”
“Yes?” he responds, nervousness creeping into his voice.
“Your question?”
“Right,” he mutters, clearing his throat as he prepares to speak. Meanwhile, you move to sit back down in your chair, swiveling around in the seat as you wait for his question. “Um—look—I really enjoyed last night. It was amazing, actually, and—I’m talking about the sex, by the way.” he stammers, his sudden clarification at the end making you giggle, regarding him fondly.
“I figured, yes.” you assure him, and he nods, somewhat relieved. “Go on,” you urge him gently, and he swallows visibly.
“I would love to, um… do that again… but I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship right now. I’m still getting used to juggling my job and my social life, and I really don’t want to fuck up our friendship—”
“And you want to be friends with benefits,” you finish for him, and he pauses, body tense as he rapidly tries to read your reaction.
“...Yes?”
“Okay,” you agree, and he just about crumples with relief, leaning against the kitchen island for support. “I’m down. But if we don’t want it to ruin our friendship or the friend group, maybe we shouldn’t tell them?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” he sighs, significantly more relaxed than he was a moment ago. “Plus, it could be kinda fun, y’know? Us… sneaking around… together…” he says, gesturing between the two of you with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.
“I couldn’t agree more.” you say sweetly, and he beams at you, all traces of his earlier nerves gone. “Do you think we should have some ground rules? So we don’t complicate things?”
“Sure, yeah,” he agrees instantly, and you smile, patting the chair next to you invitingly as you pull up the Notes app on your phone.
“So we want sex with virtually no emotional connection, right?” you clarify, and he nods, his reaction a second too late to process as casual. Ignoring it politely, you continue on. “So, maybe ‘no cuddling’ should be a rule.”
“No cuddling?” he laments, and you nod resolutely.
“Cuddling encourages emotional intimacy.”
“Fine,” he sighs, frowning slightly. “Can I still hug you?”
“Hugging and cuddling are… not the same thing, so yes.” you answer with a laugh as you type the first rule, and he smiles, chuckling lightheartedly.
“Maybe… we shouldn’t spend the night after we have sex?” he suggests, and you nod, typing it into the note you’ve made.
“Is this, like, exclusive?” you ask, gesturing between the two of you, and he tilts his head thoughtfully.
“I guess not…” he says, an air of reluctance to his words that makes you pause and look at him carefully.
“Haechan, speak now or forever hold your peace.” you warn him, and he nods firmly.
“We don’t have to be exclusive if you don’t want to be. It’s up to you.”
“How about we leave that part open-ended for now, but make the next rule ‘no jealousy?’” you offer as you type in the next rule.
“Okay, that sounds good.” he says, nodding slowly in agreement. “Next rule?”
“Um, no romantic gestures? Like, no buying each other special gifts you wouldn’t buy for another friend, no flowers, no making each other romantic playlists—stuff like that.” you say, and he looks off into the distance pensively.
“What about pet names?” he asks warily, and you half-sigh, half-laugh.
“Haechan, I think you would pop a blood vessel if you had to restrain yourself from calling me pet names.” you state, and, eyes wide, he nods vigorously in agreement, making you laugh.
“It’s true!” he insists, and your laughter grows.
“I know! That’s why I said it,” you giggle as you type in the next rule, and he starts to chuckle before joining in on your laughter. “So pet names are fine, but—”
“But?” he asks hesitantly.
“‘No PDA’ should definitely be a rule.” you suggest. “It’d definitely blow our cover.”
“Okay… agreed.” Haechan says slowly, his subsequent nod more confident than his words.
You type in the new rule and sit back, regarding the list carefully. Haechan peers over your shoulder at your phone screen, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Does this look good to you? Do you think we’re missing anything?”
“No, I think it’s perfect,” he says, sounding sure of himself, and that’s enough to comfort you.
“Well, great!” you say, taking a screenshot of the list and texting it to him. His phone pings on the kitchen table with your incoming text, and he looks at it briefly before tucking it into his pocket. You rise to your feet, Haechan straightening back up as you stand, and turn to face him, extending your hand. “Wanna shake on it?”
He takes your hand with a small smile, lips quirked up in amusement before he looks up at you and tugs gently, pulling you against his chest. “Honestly? I’d rather kiss on it.”
You blink twice, stunned slightly by the sudden intimacy, but you nod. “We can do that.”
He grins, tilting his head and nudging your nose with his gently. “Good,” he breathes before he kisses you. It doesn’t take long for his hands to move, one hand cupping your jaw and the side of your neck while his other arm wraps itself around you, resting on the small of your back as he pulls you in close. His lips mold with yours so smoothly that it’s like you’ve been doing this for a lifetime, but every nip and suck from him winds you up even more than you thought possible, making for a beautiful combination: all of the comfort, no stilted awkwardness, with all of the excitement.
When you two finally break apart, it’s for air, your hand gently resting on his chest, still clutching his shirt—you don’t even know when you started doing that—as you both attempt to catch your breath.
“Good talk,” you pant, and he grins.
“Great talk.” he agrees breathlessly. “I actually have to go home to work on a code for this new program we’re building, but I’ll see you? Hopefully before our trip to Fire Island with everyone else, but if not, then I’ll text you?”
“It’s kind of criminal that you have to do work on a Sunday when you have actual work days to work on stuff.” you say with a pout, releasing his shirt and gently smoothing out the small wrinkles you caused. “Yeah, I’ll see you for the Fire Island trip.”
“I know.” he agrees with a frown. “Alas—not all of us can make it in life by being cute and likable.” he teases, and you shoot him an empty glare, making him laugh. “But I’ll see you soon, pretty girl.” he says, thumb carefully brushing your cheek.
“Okay,” you hum, trying your best to avoid leaning into his touch and closing your eyes.
“Later,” he says, reluctantly releasing you and walking backwards to your front door until he bumps into the corner he has to go around, a sheepish chuckle escaping him as he waves once, turning and exiting your apartment after you wave back.
Now alone, you look at the list you two compiled, carefully reading over each word.
1. No cuddling. 2. No sleepovers after sex. 3. No jealousy. 4. No romantic gestures. 5. No PDA.
They seem like simple enough rules to follow; straightforward and to the point, carefully designed so you don’t blur the lines too much between platonic and romantic.
But, given the way he embraced you earlier and the way you so badly wanted him to stay longer, you can’t help but wonder if the lines were already blurred to begin with.
tada!!! i hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for part two, coming out on wednesday, december 11th!
DON’T WANNA WAIT? parts two and three are currently posted on my patreon here :)
office ; z.cl
chenle x fem! reader ˗ˏˋ ꒰ peek : voice caught in your throat as you felt him dragging down the dress zipper by his mouth. “I'll make it quick." ｡° warnings : swear words, unprotected sex, light degradation, edging, orgasms, dirty talk, use of names !! mdni ¡¡ ꒱
Tapping of the leather of the sofa, your eyes flickered towards the door knob as it began to twist.
In came your husband. His hand automatically pushing his hair back, other hand carrying a cup of coffee before he pushed the door behind him close by leaning on it. A sigh left his mouth and his vision landed on you.
His eyes lit up before darkening as his gaze trailed down your body. “You’re here?” He asked, voice breathless, setting down his coffee.
“Well you asked for me, didn’t you?” You exhaled before getting up as you walked over, hands immediately fixing his tie. “Yeah.” Chenle said, looking at your new dress that hugged your body way too good.
“Chenle, seriously, how could you forget those files?”
“Well, at least I get to see my wife, don’t I?” He cracked a grin causing you to throw your head back in frustration, a small laugh escaping your lips nevertheless, “Thank god you own the company so you’re not getting in trouble. What am I gonna do with you?”
Detaching your fingers from his tie, you walked around turning away from him, looking at the documents on his table, making sure they were the right ones for the upteenth time.
“Well for starters,” Chenle walked over, hands in pockets and his coral hair shining under the sunlight leaking through the blinds in his office. His figure right behind yours that slightly leaned against the table.
“You can be a good girl while I backshot right into you.” He whispered, his voice hitting your nape as you snorted, “The fuck?” Your attention diverting towards his hands that had started to travel from your sides to your thighs from behind.
Sending a warning glare towards him from the side you kept your hands over his, “Your meeting literally starts in 30 minutes by the way and we’re in your offi-”
Voice caught in your throat as you felt him dragging down the dress zipper by his mouth. “C-Chenle.” You said, trying to appear as stern as possible.
“I’ll make it quick.” He mumbled as his hands grabbed yours situating them over his belt. As if you already know what to do, your fingers already started unbuckling.
“Chenle we shouldn’t,” You breathed out as he rotated your hips, turning you around, “We shouldn't.” He nodded before tilting his head, smashing his lips, mouth all over yours.
Mouths moving fast and rhythmically against each others as your hands landed on his chest, “We should stop…”
“Totally.” He said before latching his mouth to your neck as the both of your hands landed on the table for support. His hand gripping your waist and the other dragging your zip completely down. The way his mouth sucked everywhere, leaving kisses and the way his tongue knew just how to turn you on. You could already feel yourself getting wet.
He was one of the most stubborn man you knew.
And before you know it, You were turned around again, against the table this time.
Feeling the air hit your bare back and bottom, you hissed. “Chenle, not here.” So intoxicated by him, you didn’t even when he unzipped himself and got his dick out.
“As you say.” He said and there it was. His cock entering you from behind as you held your breath, eyes shut and eyebrows pulled together. Though you couldn’t see him you know damn well how hard and throbbing his pale, pink dick must've been. “Couldn’t even hold back for a few minutes, could you?” You got out through your gritted teeth, head against the glass table.
“I didn’t even get this dick moving yet so fucking wet, aren't you?” He snapped back. The cockiness almost making you let a curse you before you felt him plunge into you. A loud moan left your lips before you slapped your palm to the mouth.
“Be a little quiet if you don’t want the entire management team to press their ears against the doors.” He said before gripping your sides, moving faster.
Body shaking with every thrust and you felt your knees get weaker. You struggled to keep your balance, your palms slipping slightly on the glass surface. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making it harder to stay silent.
Chenle leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. “You love this, don’t you? Being fucked where anyone could walk in at any moment.”
You bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible.
He chuckled darkly, his pace quickening. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”
The way his cock, now coated with your fluids slid in and out, The pace making you see stars. He stretched you out so good, the position was too good, The feeling of him hitting each and every spot- it was all too good. Your grip tightened on the table as you felt the pressure building inside you. The risk, the thrill, it was all too much. You were close, so close.
“Sir?” A knock was heard from outside as your eyes widened. It were almost like a glass shattering inside your head as you came back to your senses.
Pushing him out of you, you quickly got up, zipping your dress back.
Chenle cursed loudly before composing himself, “Yes?” He said, loud enough for his secretary to hear from the outside.
“Sorry to interrupt you sir, I’ve come to remind you that the meeting starts roughly in 5 minutes.”
Your hands flew to your mouth, ears turned red as chenle rolled his eyes, annoyance visible in his tone “Yeah, you might as well leave now.”
“Fuck, the entire building is gonna find out” You screeched into your palms in distress as chenle groaned.
“That fucker donghyuck, I was about to hit it!” He exclaimed dramatically, “Let’s see how long his nosy ass lasts in my comp-”
“Chenle, zip yourself!” You gasped as your hands flew to his crotch, tucking his hanging load back in as you let out a bewildered laugh,
“Baby, should I cancel it?” He whined into your ears, hands around your hips.
You gasped again, turning him around as you pushed him by the butt towards the door, “You better get your ass into that meeting now!”
He laughed loudly, way too loudly, getting out the door as he winked your way, mouthing ‘wait till we get home.’ before he shut the door close while you chuckled to yourself.
ཐིཋྀ˚彡
Chenle didn't play when he meant wait till we get home.
The way he was devouring you wasn't helping. His tongue diving into every crease of yours only fueled to your high. the way his hot mouth sucked on your core as if he were some starved ass animal, the way his eyes occasionally looked up at yours just to admire that pretty face of yours, all fucked up and out of it just because of him.
Your thighs tense and red in contrast to his pale hand gripping your legs to keep you wide open. Trails of moans leaving your mouth as he finally found your spot, teasing you with it.
"C-Chenle please oh.." You got out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at your man below.
"Please what, baby?" He asked lowly, his breath hitting your open core. The sensation only making you squirm as you frowned. Chenle tutted before dragging his thumb along your slit, testing your patience.
You almost cried out, wanting him so bad. "Oh, please fuck me chenle fuc- OH FUCK" a squeal left your lips when you felt him suck on your sweet spot. His tongue and lips absolutely wrecking you. your eyes rolled way back your head and the grip of your hands over the sheets intensified.
"Just l-like that" You encouraged, tangling your fingers through his pink hair guiding him into yourself as he increased the friction without a complaint. His tongue moving in circles around the spot as you felt yourself get light headed almost. The feeling of it lighting up a fire in your stomach as you felt it coming. "Baby, I'm gonna- gonna cum" Were your last words before you burst and chenle watched you drip.
"So pretty, my baby." He murmured as he grabbed your hands, kissing the knuckle top.
Too fucked out too even process him on top of you until you felt his lips on yours. Reciprocating the kiss back, you felt his dick tease at your entrance.
your hands that gripped the couch transferred over to his hair as you groaned into his mouth, wanting more.
You had taken one step into the house and chenle had already locked the door, flung the curtains close and pinned you over to the couch right away before tearing your dress off you. God forbid you breathe peacefully one night even, your pussy had not known peace since you married this man. This man, also the love of your life.
"Oh fuck, you're gonna take me in baby?" Chenle asked against your mouth as your head dipped further against the armrest, frowning as you hummed in response.
His dick, hard and solid from replaying the picture of you bent over all meeting long, slid inside you as your mouth fell agape, at a loss of words. Not even given enough time to process and your legs were over his shoulder. His hands gripping your thighs as your legs thrown over him were already shaking.
"chen- oh fuck" was all you could get out when your husband started moving. No warning, no cockwarming nothing but straight up bang bang bang into that pussy.
Your cursed into air as his slams grew relentless. Each thrust sending a shock in your body as the moment felt way too good to be true. your nails dug into the couch as your body jolted up and down with his thrusts.
The sound of skin slapping against each other filling the room. You moaned as you felt him hit a certain spot. Chenle slowed down, a smirk fixed on his face as the grip on your thighs never left, "Oh is that your spot baby?"
Too fucked out to even hold an ounce of shame you moaned loudly as his tip dragged across the particular area, slow and torturing. "Chenle please.." You whispered out, wanting him more than ever. He raised his brows slightly, "Words, baby." He loved, absolutely loved the sight of you fucked out, contrasting from the character you were on a daily basis. Always as egoistic as him and Collected, but under the influence of his dick you turned nothing but his whore.
"Chenle please fuck me, I need to feel you deep inside me ple...- oh."
The sight was driving him crazy. Your hair messy, face flushed and eyes closed, brows pulled to a frown, lips caged by your teeth holding back the shameful lewd noises you wanted to moan out loud to let the whole city know how good this cock was, sweat covering your body, tits bouncing slightly and nipples hard as he thrusted slow into your tight cunt, full of your juices that leaked out whenever he moved back.
"Fucking hell" He groaned as he pulled out, gaze glued to your pussy, swollen, puffy and wet- wet would be an understatement, flooded actually. His attention quickly catching up to the stringy whines leaving your mouth.
Wasting no time, He gripped your inner thighs with force as he rammed his cock back. The feeling already awakening the rippling sensation in your stomach again as your hooked your ankles from the behind oh his neck, bringing your cores closer as chenle grunted. Your moans breathless loud and pitched than before with thighs thunderously shaking under his palms gave chenle the signal he needed.
He slipped on of his hands below, over the connection of your bodies, immediately pressing his thumb over your bud as you choked on your own moan. gasping loudly as you moaned his name over and over again.
His sloppy girthy dick plumbing into you along with the added stimulation of his fingers over your clit, rubbing in circles harshly made you lose your mind almost. The moans of your both bouncing off the walls as chenle practically thrashed you against the couch.
You didn't even know the couch could shake until today.
"Fuck, fuck fuck, I'm gonna.." You trailed off, attention diverted towards the wave of pleasure of your high washing over you as you arched your back to a maximum against the leather. Your slick flowing out of your hole over his dick making a mess. Chenle never stopped his dick, nor his fingers, pumping you over and over again as his grunts began frequently.
"C-chenle" you whimpered out, pussy already swollen, drenched and overstimulated. Yet the beast on top of you wouldn't budge a bit.
"Fuck I'm gonna fill your pussy up, I'm gonna have my load all over you, sit up." Nodding out of your daze, you slowly rose up, moving your thighs off his shoulders as chenle continued to fuck you. The way he had been pounding this dick into you since the past three hours, you just know you were bedridden for the week.
Giving final jerks into you, he moaned out as he flooded you. The warmth filling you from the inside as you felt complete. when your hole was leaking to the brim, he pulled out. Bringing his dick to your face as he fisted the remaining of his liquids out. His cum decorating your face, dripping off your chin right onto your nipple.
The sight so fucking unreal he thought he could come over again just by looking. "fuck baby" he breathed out before getting off the top of you, his palms over your knees as he spread you out. Your legs opened as he got a view of your core.
Almost as if he were beyond stunned he let his eyes rake over the sight. pussy still tight, bright, throbbing. fully swollen and coated with your slick. Your entrance oozing out his cum, white liquid dripping down, he was gonna go insane. As if hypnotized, he got his finger out, gathering and stuffing his seed back into you.
"Oh hell no, stop it" you groaned into your palms, feeling your conscious and shame take over. Chenle rose to his feet, fingers still burried deep in you, coating your walls white with his fingers, "Baby, can you take one mor-"
His sentence cut short before you detached yourself, thrashing a pillow over his face suffocating him almost as the poor guy below raised his hands by the side in defense.
With a huff, you got up already making your way to the bathroom with your wobbly legs as chenle pulled the pillow off, letting his laughter die down, "Baby wait, you can't walk I need to help you."
His arm extended out grabbing a towel as he quickly followed behind, "I heard if you fuck an even number of times, the universe grants you a long life so we might need to make that nine rounds a ten lets shower se-"
"ZHONG CHENLE!"
an original iceonneo work.
altar boy sins [3]
summary: mark, a devout pastor’s son finally claims the girl he’s loved—and obsessed over—in secret. their wedding night marks the fall from grace, as desire, sin, and holy vows intertwine. what begins with a sacred union becomes a descent into lust-fueled obsession, as he vows not just to have her—but to breed her.
pairing: mark lee x fem!reader
genre: smut, religious corruption, marriage.
warnings: loss of virginity, blood mention, unprotected sex, religious guilt, sacrilege, breeding kink, possessive behavior, cumplay, dirty talk, creampie, backshot position, rough sex, manipulation, pregnancy kink, overstimulation, mention of church/mass, power imbalance, non-explicit dubcon undertones.
MDNI 🔞
part i - part ii
you always thought that when you finally gave yourself to your husband, it would be under god’s blessing—pure, sacred, a union meant only to bring life and honor to the church. you believed that marriage was a sacred covenant, free from the selfish desires and sinful urges that often clouded men’s hearts. your whole world was built around that faith, the unwavering hope that your union would be a testament to god’s grace.
but everything changed the moment you met mark.
just a few days ago, mark had approached his father with a serious look, speaking quietly but confidently. he told him it was time to settle down—that he wanted to ask for your hand in marriage. he knew his father adored you, saw you as the perfect traditional wife, the embodiment of devotion and purity. mark said he wanted your father’s blessing before taking the next step.
you heard the conversation from across the room, heart pounding. part of you was terrified—what if this meant everything you had tried to protect would unravel? but another part of you felt a strange warmth, a hope that maybe, with mark, the future could be different. maybe love and desire could coexist under god’s watchful eyes.
as you look at mark now, your secret and your sin, you wonder how much you’re willing to give, how much faith you can carry, and whether the path ahead will be one of light… or shadows.
the flames of the church’s bonfire crackle softly as night settles over the woods, the congregation still humming hymns behind you, far enough that their voices sound like ghosts.
but you're not listening. your eyes are locked on him.
mark stands with his hands tucked into his coat, the firelight soft against his face. he's not smiling—not yet—but his expression is peaceful, like he's found something holy in the silence between you.
“they think we’re praying,” he says finally, voice low. “but i’ve already made my decision.”
you blink at him, heart lurching. “decision?”
he takes a step closer, so close the scent of pine and smoke clings to your clothes between you. he doesn’t reach for you yet—he never touches you where someone might see—but his eyes are warm, fierce. unwavering.
“i told my father i want to marry you.”
you feel the wind leave your lungs. mark doesn’t look away, not even when you stagger a little under the weight of his words.
“he approved,” he continues. “said he’d known all along.”
your eyes begin to sting.
“he told me to pray on it. to make sure it wasn’t temptation.” mark’s jaw clenches, almost like he’s ashamed. “but i already knew. i’ve always known it was you. not temptation. not sin.”
he finally reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a tiny box.
“this was my mother’s,” he says softly, flipping it open. the gold ring inside glints, thin and elegant, inset with a modest sapphire. “she said it was meant to be passed to the woman god made for me.”
tears spill before you can stop them.
you nod, and it’s all you can do. just nod with a choked little yes and let him hold your hands between the glow of the fire, his eyes shining like he might cry too.
“i’ll ask your father tomorrow,” he whispers. “we’ll be wed by the end of the month.”
mark wore his cleanest shirt and bowed his head as he asked for your father’s blessing. he held your hand the whole time, fingers trembling, even when he spoke like a man of god.
your father gave his blessing. your mother wept. the entire church rejoiced.
it was all so fast, so pure, so... correct.
you’re dressed in ivory silk, modest and high-necked, with lace gloves hiding the trembling of your fingers. a veil covers your face, and yet mark cannot stop looking at you like he sees everything through it.
the ceremony is traditional. biblical. sacred.
a choir sings as you walk the aisle. everyone watches as the pastor—his father—blesses your union under the eye of god.
“do you, mark lee, take her as your lawfully wedded wife, to honor and keep, in sickness and in health—”
“i do.”
“and do you—”
“i do,” you whisper, not even letting him finish. your voice cracks, but your hand doesn’t shake in his.
he kisses you once. brief. gentle. reverent. as though he’s still afraid of wanting more.
but then—
then the night comes.
the cottage is quiet. candlelit. your gown lies folded over a wooden chair, your gloves tucked beside it like offerings left at the foot of an altar.
you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, bare under the weight of your new title—wife.
mark locks the door behind him, chest rising and falling a little faster now. his tie’s already undone. his white shirt unbuttoned just enough to see the cross around his neck.
he looks at you like a man starved.
“stand up,” he says softly, voice deeper than usual.
you do.
he walks over, slow and reverent, but when his hands reach your waist, there’s nothing holy about the way he grabs you.
“mine,” he whispers. “you’re mine now.”
you nod, lips trembling. “i am.”
his mouth crashes onto yours, not gentle this time. his hands run down your back, bare skin burning beneath his touch. when he pulls away, his eyes are wild, dark with a hunger that’s no longer restrained.
“you know what’s going to happen tonight, right?” he murmurs against your lips. “you know i’m gonna ruin this sweet little body for anyone else?”
your breath hitches. “m-mark...”
his hand slips between your legs, cupping your heat. he groans, head falling to your shoulder.
“still untouched,” he whispers. “fuck—i can feel how tight you are already. haven’t even put my cock near you yet and you’re throbbing.”
you gasp, your hips shifting unconsciously against his palm.
“you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” his voice is almost mocking, but it’s full of adoration. “so patient. so obedient. but tonight... tonight i get to teach you what your body’s really for.”
he presses you down onto the bed, crawling over you like a man possessed. his shirt comes off. you stare, wide-eyed, at the lean strength in his body, the small golden cross swinging between his collarbones.
“are you scared?” he asks, crawling between your thighs.
you hesitate. “a little.”
he smiles, soft but sinful. “good. makes it sweeter.”
you expect him to rush, to push in and take, but he doesn’t. not yet. his hands part your legs, thumbs brushing your inner thighs, gaze locked on the place he’s about to claim.
“i want you to remember this,” he says low. “the first stretch. the burn. the blood. i want it to haunt every thought you ever have about pleasure. i want you to think of me.”
you whimper, your body trembling under his stare.
he strokes himself once, twice, thick and already hard, precum glistening at the tip.
“look at me,” he growls, lining himself up. “you give this to me willingly?”
“yes...” you whisper, breathless. “please, mark. take it.”
he pushes in slow, inch by inch, and your body screams at the intrusion. it hurts—raw and real—but his groan is feral when your tight heat finally begins to take him.
“fuck—so tight—s-so good—” he curses, clutching your thighs as he sinks in deeper.
you cry out, hands gripping the sheets. “it hurts—”
“i know, baby, i know,” he pants, but he doesn’t stop. “you’re perfect. taking me so fucking well. god made you just for this.”
when he bottoms out, the pain blooms sharp, and you feel it—the tearing. the sudden wet warmth between your thighs that isn’t slick but blood.
your first time. your virginity. claimed.
by him.
mark shudders above you, his eyes fluttering shut. “you’re bleeding,” he whispers, reverent. “fuck, baby... look at this mess you’re making for me.”
he pulls out slightly, then thrusts back in harder, and you gasp again, tears springing to your eyes.
“shhh... that’s it... cry for me,” he coos, rocking into you with slow, punishing rolls of his hips. “hurts, doesn’t it? i know. i know. that’s what happens when you’ve never been touched. and now no one ever will. just me.”
you cling to him, your legs trembling around his waist. pain and heat and fullness swirl inside you like a fever.
he fucks you slow and deep, savoring every inch like a man drinking straight from the chalice.
“you feel that?” he pants. “that stretch? that’s my cock, baby. your husband’s cock. it’s gonna split you open every night from now on.”
“m-mark—” your voice cracks, body shaking.
“i want it to hurt,” he growls. “i want you sore in the morning. limping in church. sitting with your legs tight because your pussy still remembers what i did to it.”
his thrusts deepen, faster now, the bed creaking under the rhythm.
“i’ll fuck a baby into you,” he groans. “fill you up. make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”
you cry out, the pain blending into a sharp kind of pleasure, dizzying and hot.
“oh god—”
“don’t say his name,” mark snarls. “you beg for me. you pray to me now.”
his fingers find your clit and rub fast circles, the added sensation pushing you closer to the edge. the pain is still there, dull and throbbing, but the pleasure—the fullness—drowns it out.
“you gonna cum on my cock for the first time, sweetheart?” he hisses. “gonna milk me like a good wife?”
you sob, nodding, your entire body tensing.
“that’s it. cum for me. fuck—cum while i’m deep in your virgin cunt—”
you break with a cry, your walls fluttering around him, tight and overwhelmed. mark follows with a growl, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he spills inside you, thick and warm.
he doesn’t pull out. not for a long time.
when he finally does, his cum drips from between your legs, streaked with red. he watches it for a second, breathing hard, eyes dazed.
then he presses a kiss to your stomach.
“god forgive me,” he whispers, “but i’ve never felt anything holier than this.”
the room is still warm with the scent of sweat, sex, and candlewax.
you’re trembling in the sheets, heart racing, thighs sticky and sore, and mark—still hovering over you—is staring down at the mess between your legs like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever seen.
“look at that,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “my blood. my cum. all of it inside you.”
you blush, squirming under his gaze, but he hushes you gently.
“don’t move, baby,” he whispers. “let me take care of you.”
he disappears into the little bathroom for a moment, and you hear water running, the rustle of cloth. when he returns, he’s shirtless, flushed, eyes still dark. in his hands: a warm, damp cloth.
he kneels between your legs like he’s kneeling at a holy altar.
“open for me again, sweet girl.”
you obey with a soft whimper.
he parts your thighs gently, reverently, and begins to wipe you clean—slow strokes of the cloth over your folds, careful over the tender soreness, the trace of blood and thick seed.
he breathes heavily through his nose.
“fuck… it’s still leaking out,” he says, voice trembling with hunger. “i really did break you, didn’t i?”
your cheeks burn, but your body clenches at his words.
he wipes a little deeper, letting the cloth slip between your folds, dragging it slowly, maybe too slowly, over your still-sensitive clit. your hips twitch.
“mm—mark…”
he smirks.
“you liked it,” he says, his voice thick and satisfied. “i could feel it when your pussy fluttered around me. you liked me taking it. even when it hurt.”
you look away, embarrassed. he grabs your chin and turns your face back to him.
“don’t hide from me now,” he growls. “you’re my wife. my good little bride. i get to see all of it—your pain, your pleasure, your filth.”
he tosses the cloth aside, not done—not even close.
“turn around,” he says, voice lower now. hungrier. “on your knees. let me see how you look from behind.”
you hesitate.
“mark, i’m still—”
“i’ll be gentle,” he says, already helping you shift onto all fours. “just wanna see.”
but when you’re in position, your face down, hips up, your swollen folds still dripping for him, he groans out loud.
“fuck. fuck, baby. you look ruined.”
his thumbs spread you open and he leans in to spit—spits right on your cunt and watches it drip down your slit.
you whimper.
“sorry,” he breathes, kissing your lower back. “i lied. i can’t be gentle right now. not when you look like this.”
you gasp as he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance again, still thick, already hard again.
“mark—wait—”
“shhh,” he says, wrapping one arm around your waist as he starts to push in. “just a little, baby. i’ll go slow. i swear.”
but he doesn’t.
he sinks in fast this time, wet with spit and cum and leftover blood, and the stretch makes you cry out into the pillow.
“oh god—”
“you’re so fucking tight from this angle,” he groans, thrusting deeper. “so wet and raw. i can feel every part of you clinging to me.”
his hips slap into you, heavy and slow, and he watches the way your ass bounces, how your walls suck him in again and again.
“this is how i want it,” he pants, gripping your hips. “every night. bent over. legs shaking. full of me.”
your fingers grip the pillow, knuckles white.
he fucks you slow but deep—intentional, savoring the aftershock of your first time, the way your body shudders under every push.
“look at this mess,” he hisses, pulling out just enough to see the creamy ring around his cock before slamming back in. “my innocent little wife, dripping all over me.”
you moan into the sheets, tears threatening again from the overstimulation.
he leans forward, chest to your back, lips to your ear.
“do you know how many nights i touched myself to this?” he growls. “this exact position? thinking about you on your knees, begging me to fuck you?”
you can’t speak.
“say it,” he demands. “tell me you want it. tell me you like being on your knees with my cock deep in your pussy.”
“i—i like it,” you whisper, shaking. “mark, i l-love it.”
“yeah?” he grits, hips snapping harder now. “you like me fucking you where you bleed?”
you nod desperately, tears finally slipping down your cheeks.
he growls, pulling your hair to tilt your head back.
“good girl,” he pants. “you’re gonna take all of it. every drop.”
his pace grows frantic, sloppy. the room echoes with the sound of skin on skin, the squelch of your soaked cunt, the broken cries leaving your throat.
he reaches between your legs again, fingers finding your clit.
“cum for me again,” he growls. “milk my cock. i want to feel you gush.”
you do—too fast, the pleasure tipping over the edge like a dam breaking. your body arches, walls pulsing around him violently, drawing a deep, choked groan from his chest.
“fuckfuckfuck—i’m gonna—”
his thrusts stutter, then slam deep one last time as he spills inside you again, hot, thick, his cum flooding your womb in waves.
he stays buried in you for a long time, breathing hard, holding your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
then, slowly, he pulls out—and you both watch it drip again: blood, cum, slick. a perfect, unholy mess between your thighs.
he kisses your spine softly.
“that’s two,” he whispers. “i’m not done yet.”
god won’t hear you this morning
the sunlight is soft through the white curtains, warm over your bare back.
you wake to the sound of birds, the smell of pine, and the weight of an arm draped heavy around your waist.
mark’s hand.
you stir gently. the soreness between your legs is still there—a dull ache that reminds you of everything that happened hours before. the blood. the claiming. the way he whispered prayers against your skin while pushing deeper into sin.
“mm... you awake, baby?” comes his voice, low and rough behind you.
you nod.
his nose nuzzles into your neck. a soft kiss. then another. his hand slides over your belly, pulling you tighter against him.
“you okay?” he asks, brushing your hair aside.
“a little sore,” you whisper, cheeks flushing.
he hums. “good. means i did it right.”
you giggle quietly, but it’s breathy, nervous. his lips graze your jaw.
“kiss me,” you whisper.
he turns you gently, and your lips meet—slow, lazy, lips barely parting. it’s sweet. warm. the kind of kiss that feels safe.
but then you feel it. his cock, hard again, pressing against your thigh.
you open your eyes.
he’s looking down at you, expression darker now. hungrier.
“we should get ready for church,” you say softly, as if that’ll make the heat between you disappear.
his hand moves down. between your legs. he touches you like he owns the space between your thighs.
“mm,” he hums. “god can wait.”
“mark—”
“don’t pretend you didn’t dream about it,” he murmurs against your lips. “you were grinding against me in your sleep. moaning.”
you blink, embarrassed. “i—I didn’t know—”
“oh, baby,” he chuckles darkly. “your little pussy knew.”
his fingers glide through the mess still lingering there from the night before—his cum, dried and sticky and warm again from your heat.
you gasp.
“you’re soaked,” he growls. “and we haven’t even started.”
you moan when he circles your clit.
“mark… please…”
“you want it?” he says, voice low. “again?”
you don’t answer. can’t.
his fingers slide inside you slowly, and you cry out.
“your body wants it,” he hisses. “look at how greedy she is. already sucking me in.”
“it’s not right,” you whisper. “it’s morning. it’s—”
“it’s sunday,” he says, pulling his fingers out and sucking them into his mouth. “let’s worship.”
and then he rolls you over. pushes you flat on your stomach.
his hands spread your thighs again.
he growls—growls—at the sight of your cunt, pink and swollen and messy with everything he’s left inside you.
“fuck. i want to breed you.”
you shudder.
“mark—”
“i mean it.” he leans over, cock hard and throbbing against your ass. “i want to fill you again and again until my cum takes. until you’re swollen with my baby.”
your breath catches. the filth in his voice. the fire in your stomach.
he presses his cock against your entrance.
“you’d look so beautiful,” he whispers. “waddling around the church with my child inside you. the pastor’s daughter-in-law, pregnant and ruined and everyone knowing who did it.”
you bite your lip, whimpering.
“say it,” he commands. “say you want me to knock you up.”
“i—i want it,” you cry. “i want your baby, mark.”
he thrusts in deep. slow. your mouth falls open.
“fuck,” you moan. “oh my god—”
he snaps his hips forward, and the stretch opens you again, deep and raw. you’re already wet—soaked from both your desire and the filth he left inside you—and he glides in smoothly, thick and throbbing.
“that’s it,” he groans. “take it. take my cock like a good wife.”
your hands claw at the sheets as his thrusts build in rhythm, slow but deep, dragging along every sensitive spot inside you.
you’re not quiet this time.
you moan. you sob. you say words you were never allowed to say.
“fuck—mark—so deep—oh fuck me harder—”
he slaps your ass.
“language,” he growls. “filthy little girl.”
“yes—yes—i’m filthy—so fucking filthy for you—”
his rhythm gets rougher. desperate.
“god won’t hear you now,” he pants. “not when you’re begging me to fuck a baby into you.”
your walls tighten. your climax rises sharp and fast.
“cum for me,” he hisses. “cum like a whore. my whore. my wife.”
and you do.
you scream into the mattress, body shaking violently as your orgasm crashes through you, pulsing around him.
“shit—fuck—gonna fill you again,” he snarls. “breed this tight little cunt.”
his thrusts lose rhythm, grow frantic, and then—
he spills.
hot. thick. so much.
his cock twitches deep inside you as he empties himself, groaning into your neck like he’s dying.
when it’s over, he collapses over you, still pulsing.
your legs are shaking. you can barely breathe.
and between your thighs, you’re leaking again.
this time, it feels like even more.
like a baby might really come of it.
he kisses your cheek.
“i’m gonna do it again tonight,” he whispers. “until it sticks.”
altar boy sins [2]
summary: the pastor’s son fingers you in the back room of the church, promising god’s forgiveness while ruining your last shred of purity.
pairing: mark lee x fem!reader
genre: smut, religious corruption, dark romance.
warnings: explicit sexual content, anal virginity, church setting, religious guilt, oral (m receiving), squirting, degradation, sacreligious language, coercion under trust, creampie, overstimulation, power imbalance, aftercare (light), public risk, no vaginal penetration.
part i. - part iii.
MDNI 🔞
the days after that event in the church passed in a strange blur—quiet, heavy, stained with something you didn’t have the words to name. guilt, maybe. shame. or maybe something darker, something you weren’t supposed to feel in your chest every time you thought of him: need.
you’d avoided mark at first. not in an obvious way—just in the way a girl who’s scared of her own body might avoid the boy who took her apart with it. you thought he might pull away too, grow distant after what he did to you. maybe he’d pretend nothing happened, or worse, pretend he didn’t mean it when he whispered he’d marry you.
but he didn’t.
if anything, he became more present. more constant. more yours.
he started showing up around your house with excuses—books he thought you'd like, notes from scripture he said might help you reflect, leftover pastries from the church bake sale he said had your name on them. when he smiled at your mother, she glowed with approval. when he spoke to your father, it was always with respect and devotion. he never slipped. never let on. never gave them a reason to question how filthy his hands had been all over their daughter.
and then he told his father—the pastor—that you had a gift. that you were kind, patient, gentle with the younger kids in bible class. that maybe you should help out, become a catechist in training.
you almost choked when your parents brought it up over dinner. “he said that?” you’d asked, eyes wide, fork frozen mid-air.
“yes,” your mother beamed. “such a good boy. not like others his age. he thinks of the church, of the children, of god.”
you agreed, of course. because how could you not? because your parents looked at you like it was a blessing. because mark had smiled at you across the pew the next sunday and mouthed, i’m proud of you, like none of it was wicked.
and so you went.
every saturday morning, you showed up before mass and helped corral a dozen children into tiny wooden chairs, helped them fold their hands in prayer, helped them understand what it meant to be good and pure in god’s eyes. and sometimes, in the quiet space before their parents arrived, mark would stop by. he’d lean on the doorframe, watching you, eyes slow and dark and unreadable.
“you look cute when you’re being holy,” he’d whisper once, pulling you into the broom closet after class and kissing you so hard you forgot your name.
those kisses had become more frequent. hidden, greedy. fingers sneaking beneath your cardigan. his hand cupping your thigh as you gasped against his lips, terrified someone might open the door. you never let it go too far again—but the air always turned hot when he was near. the world always went still when he touched you.
today had been quiet.
your class had gone well—crafts and scripture, singing soft hymns while the stained glass bled sunlight over the children’s heads. when the last parent arrived to take them home, you’d tidied up, gathered your things, and returned to the small gravel path leading back to your family home. the streets of town were mostly empty, everyone tucked into their usual saturday chores. you waved to mrs. garcía sweeping her porch. crossed paths with the baker’s daughter carrying a tray of loaves. everything felt… calm.
you’d just tied your apron around your waist and started chopping vegetables beside your mother when the phone rang.
the one mounted on the kitchen wall. the only one in the house.
your mother dried her hands quickly and picked it up. “hello?”
her voice lit up at the name. “oh! mark, sweetheart. how are you?”
you froze. your fingers paused over the carrots.
“yes… oh, how careless of her.” her tone shifted, just slightly, that disappointed edge all mothers have. “i told her—always forgetting things.”
you already knew what he’d said.
“she left her bible at the church,” she mouthed at you, covering the receiver.
you looked down. heat crawled up your neck.
“you’re such a good boy,” your mother continued, now smiling again. “always looking out for her. she’s lucky to have your friendship, you know.”
friendship.
you swallowed hard.
you could hear the faint hum of mark’s voice through the line, though not the words. whatever he said made your mother laugh softly.
“yes, yes—i’ll send her right over. thank you, mark.”
when she hung up, she turned to you with a sigh. “honestly, you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached. go on, before the church locks up.”
you nodded, wiping your hands and untying the apron. your heart beat a little faster than before. something in your gut twisted.
because you hadn’t forgotten your bible. you never did.
and mark knew that.
you step into the empty church, the air cool and scented with old incense. the wooden pews stand silent under shafts of late-afternoon light. at the far end, mark leans against the pulpit pillar, bible in hand, eyes dark as he watches you approach.
“you came,” he says, voice low. “i knew you would.”
you pause, hand trembling as you reach for the bible on the lectern. his long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you against him so your back presses to his chest. you gasp, the hard line of his body anchoring you in place.
“mark, let go,” you whisper, cheeks burning. “i just… i need my bible.” he laughs softly, breath warm against your ear. “you and that bible. but really, it’s me you need.”
he brushes a finger under your chin, tilting your face to his. “i can’t stop thinking about that night,” he murmurs. “about the way you squirted all over me. the way you begged me—fuck, you begged me like a little sinner craving my cock.”
you press your lips together, shame coiling in your belly. “stop—please,” you murmur, voice shaking.
he smiles, amused. “stop? baby, i know you love it when i say these things. god won’t punish you for being hot.” he slides one arm around your waist and with the other tugs the hem of your dress up over your hips. the fabric gathers at your waist and rides up your thighs, exposing the curve of your ass.
“i don’t want… not yet,” you whisper, knees weak.
“that’s fine,” he replies, easing you back to sit on his lap on the wooden pew. you feel the tent of his jeans pressing through his pants, hard and thick, but he doesn’t push. instead, he presses both hands to your hips, guiding you against him.
“mark,” you whisper, cheeks flushing, “please... not like last time. i’m saving myself for marriage.” your voice is barely audible, laced with vulnerability. “please don’t put your fingers inside me.”
he pauses, a slow smile curving his lips, the playful glint in his eyes softening into something tender. “we can wait,” he murmurs, fingers tracing a light line along your waist. “i promised i’d cherish you, and i will. we’ll wait until the altar, princess.”
slowly, he runs his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just enough to slip his fingertips beneath. you bite your lip as his cool touch meets your heated skin. he slides a finger to the very edge of your cleft, tracing gentle circles across your clit.
“you feel so wet,” he growls, one hand bracing on the pew behind you as he teases you. “so desperate. look at you—dripping for me.”
you close your eyes, breath hitching. the world narrows to the flicker of candlelight and the press of his body. “mark,” you whisper, voice tremulous.
he chuckles, crooked and low. “i promised i’d take care of you,” he says, thumb brushing your clit in slow, firm strokes. “and i will.”
his touch becomes more insistent, each circle of his thumb sending jolts of pleasure through you. your hips begin to rock against his hand without thought, riding his thumb as it presses faster, harder. you can’t hold back the moans now—soft at first, then louder, more desperate.
“ah—mark—i…” you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders, your back arching.
“you’re doing so well, baby,” he whispers, voice thick with pride. “so good for me. so precious.”
you close your eyes and lean back against him, drawing strength from the warmth of his body, the slow, worshipful rhythm of his touch. “mark... please,” you breathe with voice fragile.
his finger presses gently to your lips, silencing you. “shh,” he soothes, “you’re safe. it’s just you and me here. god won’t punish you for this. he’ll see how much i adore you.”
his fingers glide with slow devotion, tracing soft, worshipful circles just around your clit, never pressing too hard, never pushing past your limits. the slow burn of pleasure coils in your belly, building steadily like a flame fanned by a gentle breeze.
“that’s it,” he murmurs, breath warm against your neck. “every gasp, every shiver... it’s all for me. you’re mine, and you please me so perfectly.”
he leans forward, lips at your neck. “come for me, baby,” he whispers. “come all over me.”
with a shuddering cry, your body tenses and releases in waves. a hot pulse of pleasure ripples through you, and you come hard on his thumb, heart pounding as your juices spill down the front of his leg.
he holds you through the aftershock, his hand steady on your hip. when your breathing slows, he tilts your chin up. “see? nothing to be ashamed of,” he murmurs, eyes soft but hungry. “god might judge, but i don’t. you’re mine.”
he holds you close through the aftershocks, pressing tender kisses to your temple. “i worship you,” he whispers, voice thick with awe and need. “my perfect girl. i could praise you forever.”
you rest your forehead against his, body still trembling. in the silence of the empty church, you feel both convicted and strangely free—bound to him by something far stronger than any promise or prayer.
and in the quiet light of the empty church, wrapped in his arms and drenched in the heat of your first release, you believe him completely.
after you leave the church, mark walks quietly beside you down the narrow village streets, the evening breeze cool against your flushed skin. the sky fades into a soft purple as lamps begin to glow, casting warm pools of light on cobblestones. your heart still races from the tender moments shared, and every step feels heavy with unspoken tension.
when you arrive at your family’s modest home, your parents greet you both at the door, their faces bright with excitement. your mother’s eyes shine as she welcomes mark inside. “we’re so glad you could join us tonight, mark,” she says warmly. your father nods approvingly, his smile wide and genuine.
the table is set carefully in the dining room, candles flickering softly, casting shadows on the walls. as the meal begins, your parents chatter eagerly about church events, the catechism class, and the promising future they imagine for both you and mark. you feel the weight of their expectations, the watchful eyes on you, but beneath the surface, your own secret conversation with mark unfolds.
across the table, mark’s eyes catch yours, a slow, knowing smile curling his lips. his gaze is both playful and possessive. your fingers brush lightly against the edge of his knee under the table—a subtle, electric touch. he responds instantly, shifting just enough to let his hand glide slowly along your thigh, fingertips tracing lazy circles beneath the fabric of your dress.
you bite your lip, holding back a breath as the heat pools low in your belly. your eyes meet again, a silent promise exchanged between you. the room buzzes with the polite noise of dinner, but in this quiet connection, the world narrows to the secret intimacy shared beneath the table.
and there, in the soft candlelight, with your parents none the wiser, the slow-burning fire between you and mark flickers gently, waiting for the moment to flare again.
THE PROMISCUOUS TUTOR (M) | PART TWO
SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is the final half of part three of a series! read part one & two for context!
PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader
SYNOPSIS | na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.
WC | 17.7k
WARNINGS | cursing, mentions of alcohol & weed, sexual comments, explicit smut, breeding kink, wall fucking, mirror fucking, complete mess of mc's inner thoughts, big muscled jaemin :), jaehyun says annoying perverted things. uh angst at the end i'm sorry, please forgive me.
A.N | tumblr is being stupid and won't let me put it all in one part, so i'm splitting it into two. the first part will be linked on the masterlist. please send asks after you finish reading. i want to hear your thoughts!
Jaemin doesn’t care when you point out Haechan’s shoes near the entrance.
He merely kicks them to the side and pushes you up against the wooden door, hands instinctively finding your waist. They dip under the hem of your shirt and brush against your stomach – forcing a shiver out of you. He was so warm, hands soft against you.
“H-hyuck.” You stammer out.
Jaemin nips at your bottom lip, “Sorry angel, my name's Jaemin.”
“No, Hyuck's home.”
He casts a cursory glance toward the dark hallway, “And?”
“And what if he comes out of his room?” He couldn't catch you making out with Jaemin - hell would break loose.
Jaemin rolls his eyes, leaning in to kiss you again. “He won’t.”
“Jaem,” you whine, clutching on to the tops of his shoulders.
“He’s probably jerking off to some e-girl, he won’t.” Jaemin reaffirms, pressing his lips against yours to stop you from babbling on about Haechan. He was kissing you. You shouldn’t be thinking about someone else.
His hand abandons your waist and finds home on the side of your face, fingers curling underneath your jaw so he could taste more of you. He kisses you slow, afraid that if he does what he really wants, he’ll overwhelm you. But when you part your lips, just slightly enough to where Jaemin can taste the alcohol on your tongue, he thinks he might just lose it. He sighs into your mouth, tongue dipping slightly – testing the waters.
You open up more, letting him bully his tongue into your mouth. It’s hot and wet and desperate – the way he licks up your own tongue, hands fervently inching higher up your waist until your shirt is caught just beneath your bra. You think he’s going to stop there, but he doesn’t. He keeps going until his hands are hooked underneath your arms and then he’s pulling you in the air – instinctively, your legs find his waist, arms circling his neck.
God damn. You knew he was strong, but not that strong.
“What, didn’t think I’d be able to pick you up?” he questions, both hands grabbing your ass to keep you from falling. You shake your head, afraid to speak or move. The last thing you wanted him to do was drop you. “Angel,” he purrs, “Why do you think I’m in the gym all the time? Gotta make sure I’m able to surprise every woman I’m with.”
“Don’t really wanna hear about other women right now Jaem.” You mumble.
He lets out a barely audible chuckle as he continues to carry you to his room. It takes a moment for him to push open the door; throughout, your head remains on a swivel, silently pleading to whatever higher power that Haechan wouldn’t open the door and catch you swept up in Jaemin's arms.
As Jaemin fumbles into the room, he suddenly hoists you up and swiftly hurls you onto his bed with a whoosh of air, catching you off guard with his unexpected strength. You land with a startled thud, momentarily stunned by the forceful motion. Wide-eyed, you gaze up at Jaemin, surprise and exhilaration coursing through you. His playful grin tells you that he enjoys catching you off balance.
“Told you I was stronger than I looked.”
He’s pleased with your reaction, getting cockier the longer you sit there and stare up at him in awe. You were cute like that; a little dazed, with parted lips and windblown hair. He wanted to devour you.
“You can’t do that!” you hiss, righting yourself onto his bed, until your back hit the solid wood headboard. You draw your knees up and swing an arm around them.
Jaemin’s jaw drops dramatically, “Why not?”
You jerk a thumb at the wall – the one that Haechan shared.
Jaemin rolls his eyes, and yells so loud you think you might just die from embarrassment, “Yo! Hyuck!”
Through the wall you hear Haechan yell, “What?”
Eyes going wide, you slap a hand over your mouth. Was Jaemin crazy? What the fuck was he doing?
Jaemin just grins at you like this was the funniest thing in the world. “I got a girl in here so don’t come nosing around!”
A faint grunt sounds through the wall, no doubt from Haechan playing some video game, “Whatever man. Just keep it down, I got a test to study for.” You hear a slew of curses from Haechan’s room. Even though he had a test tomorrow, he surely didn’t intend to study.
“There, happy?”
Your furrowed brow clearly expressed your discontent. Jaemin, once more, rolls his eyes in exasperation before hopping onto the bed. His fingers, icy cold, grasp your ankles and tug you towards him. You struggle to suppress the shriek threatening to escape your throat, your whole body tensing against the sudden movement.
Jaemin isn’t fazed though. Instead, he settles on leaning over your figure, his arms braced on either side of your body to hold up his weight. With you underneath him, he can’t help but admire the sight. You looked fucking beautiful.
He wants to kiss you again.
And Jaemin always gets what he wants.
"He’s not gonna come in here." Jaemin hushes your worries as he starts kissing you. You wanted to protest, but his lips begin trailing sloppy wet kisses down the side of your neck and the words get caught in the back of your throat. "You like that? You like it when I kiss your neck?"
You nod your head, scared that if you spoke, your sentence would be less of a sentence and more of a moan.
"I want you to use your words, baby." Jaemin nudges his knee between your legs as he urges you to give him a vocal response. "I want to hear you say that you like it when I kiss your neck. Like this." He swipes his tongue against the soft skin of your neck and lightly blows, your body shivering at the cold sensation, but relaxing as soon as he presses another warm kiss to your neck.
"I- Jaem... I love it when you kiss my neck." You whimper out, squirming impatiently underneath his touch.
Jaemin snickers at you, "Oh, Y/N, look at you. You’re that desperate for someone good to please you?”
It’s embarrassing that he was right. You were that desperate. It’d been a while since the pleasure was about you. In fact, it wouldn’t be so crazy of a statement to say that you’d finished more times with yourself than you had with another man. But if you told Jaemin that, you’re not sure if he’d laugh or take it as a challenge.
“I’m so embarrassed—” You blurt out.
Jaemin sits up straight as if on cue. His hand grabs your jaw so that you were looking into his eyes. “Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. It’s a safe space, okay?” You nod your head as much as his hand would allow, “You tell me what you’re comfortable with. And if I do anything wrong, tell me to stop. I’ll stop the second you say something.”
“Okay.” You whisper.
Maybe it was because he was being understanding, and sweet. Or maybe it was because he looked so god damn sexy, watching you through hooded eyes – but you grab a handful of his shirt and tug him back down.
His lips find yours first, soft and commanding, coaxing a whimper out of you. Moving in rhythm, he presses into you, feverishly consuming your taste like it was a fucking drug. When you try to pull away, he chases, not wanting to let you go just yet.
He parts his lips, mumbling against yours, “Oh, don’t get cocky now…You’re mine for tonight and I plan on getting my fill.”
His words send a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach. Jaemin tilts his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue flicking against yours with a slow, deliberate tease. His hand slides down your neck, fingers grazing your collarbone before trailing lower, mapping your body like he wants to memorize every dip, every reaction.
You arch into him as he moves closer, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The warmth of his palm finds the exposed skin at your waist, thumb stroking slow, calculated circles that make your breath hitch.
"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear.
Your fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer. "I just…want you."
Jaemin hums, pleased, as he kisses down the column of your throat. "That’s all I needed to hear."
His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers skimming up your ribs, teasing just under the curve of your breast—but before he can go any further, he pauses, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.
"Can I take this off?"
The second you nod your head, Jaemin is up and moving.
He takes your clothes off in record time. It’s nearly hysterical how you’re completely dressed one second, and the next, your outfit has joined the pile of others on the floor. He gets himself undressed equally as fast, but when you watch it’s like time slows down.
You want to remember all of this, intently observing when he lifts his shirt over his head. His torso was toned, abs tensing and relaxing with the effort of tossing his shirt into the corner of his room. Faint veins peak through the skin of his forearms, and his hands…. his hands. So large and veiny, you can’t help but want two of his thick fingers between your thighs, right then.
“Like what you see?” He comments, fingers already working fast to undo the buttons on his pants.
You don’t respond, too infatuated by the sight that was Na Jaemin. You can’t wait to appreciate what the fuck he was hiding behind the heavy denim fabric. But just as he’s about to pull them down and give you a taste of what you were craving to see; he stops himself.
“Don’t know why I’m taking these off,” he says it like it slipped his mind. “This is about you.”
Jaemin doesn’t give you time to protest before he’s guiding you back onto the bed, lips never leaving your skin. He kisses down your body like he’s savoring every inch, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth and desperation in his wake. His lips graze over your collarbone, your sternum, the sensitive spot just below your ribs. Every kiss is a promise, a whispered devotion against your skin.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips like he’s trying to ground himself. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
His mouth moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, tongue flicking out to taste the soft skin. He hums against you, satisfied, dragging his lips lower, lower, until he’s just above where you need him most. His breath fans over your inner thighs, and you twitch beneath him, anticipation making you lightheaded.
“Relax, baby,” he coos, looking up at you through dark lashes. “Gonna make you feel good.”
He presses one last teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh before gripping your hips and flipping you onto your knees. The movement makes you gasp, hands scrambling against the sheets as he settles onto his back beneath you.
“Sit down,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. He tugs you forward, urging you to straddle his face, but you hesitate, knees pressing into the mattress beside his head.
His hands find your thighs, fingers kneading the flesh as he urges you down. “Don’t make me say it again,” he breathes, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
Jaemins fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to cry out, “I said sit the fuck down.”
“But what if I–”
“Y/n, I don’t care!” his fingers tighten again, biceps flexing with the exertion of trying to get you to just give in and ride his face.
“Suffocation.” you declare.
“What?”
“What if I suffocate you.”
Jaemin laughs and you can feel his breath against the inside of your thigh. Embarrassment licks your spine. You should have just shut up and gotten on with it.
“Okay one,” he starts, tilting his head to the side to kiss your leg, “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” he catches your gaze and licks a long stripe up your inner thigh, “And two, even if it did happen theoretically. I think any man would be happy to be suffocated by you. I mean look at you—” he gives another trail of kisses on your other thigh, “Such a pretty girl. Such a pretty pussy”
“Jaem–”
“You’re already straddling my head, just sit down and enjoy yourself.” His eyes soften, “I promised you at least one orgasm.”
Your breath stutters as his words settle in, heavy and warm like his hands on your thighs. His grip is firm, but there’s patience in his touch, an unspoken promise that he won’t rush you—at least, not yet.
“Jaemin…” His name is barely a whisper, more of a plea than a protest now.
“Yes, baby?” His lips graze your skin, teasing, waiting. His voice is silk, smooth and coaxing, laced with the kind of confidence that makes your stomach tighten.
You don’t have a response—not one that makes sense, anyway. Your fingers curl into his hair, your hesitation dissolving with every deliberate kiss he presses to your thighs. His hands slide up, guiding, encouraging.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”
The last of your resistance crumbles as you let yourself sink into his touch, into him—because if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that Jaemin always keeps his promises.
His hands slide further up, gripping your hips firmly as he pulls you down, guiding you to settle against his mouth. The first slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue sends a shock through your body, making you grip onto his hair tighter, a soft gasp tumbling from your lips.
Jaemin groans beneath you, the vibration making your thighs shake. He eats you like he’s been starving for it, like he’s wanted to do this for so long. His tongue flicks against your clit, teasing, before he seals his lips around it and sucks.
“Fuck,” you whimper, hips stuttering against his face.
He hums in response, clearly satisfied with the sounds you’re making. His grip on your hips tightens as he presses you down harder against his mouth, his tongue working you over with precise, devastating strokes.
“Jaemin,” you pant, trying to lift yourself off, but he’s not having it. His arms flex as he locks you in place, a quiet, muffled growl leaving him.
Jaemin’s fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to cry out.
“Suffocation,” you blurt out again.
Jaemin chuckles against you, the vibration making your whole body shudder. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
His tongue flicks against your clit with devastating precision, alternating between slow, teasing circles and deep, hungry sucks that have your thighs trembling around his head. He’s relentless—lapping at you like he’s memorizing every sound you make, every little shudder, every sharp gasp.
Your hands fist into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, and the groan that rumbles from him is downright sinful. He likes this—loves this, having you like this, falling apart above him with no escape. The control is his, and you’re drowning in it.
He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips shining, eyes dark with something dangerous. “See? Still breathing,” he teases, before diving back in like he has no intention of stopping anytime soon.
And with the way he’s holding you, tasting you, worshiping you—you don’t think you’ll be able to stop either.
Jaemin, I—”
“I know, baby,” he coos, one hand leaving your thigh to slide up your spine, pressing firm between your shoulder blades to keep you exactly where he wants you. “I got you.”
His mouth closes around your clit again, sucking just hard enough to have your back arching, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue working against you fill the room, and you don’t know whether to feel embarrassed or completely undone.
But Jaemin wants you like this—desperate, messy, his.
“Come on,” he murmurs between drench kisses, his voice dripping with something dark and coaxing. “Let go for me.”
Your thighs start to tremble, heat coiling tight in your stomach, spiraling higher and higher as his tongue works you over. He notices, of course—he always notices—his grip tightening as he murmurs, “That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”
You try to hold back, try to ride the edge a little longer, but Jaemin doesn’t let you. He flicks his tongue faster, lips sealing around your clit with one last devastating pull, and it’s over. Your release crashes through you, your body jerking, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as pleasure swallows you whole.
Jaemin groans beneath you, drinking it down like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, his hands gripping you through every shudder, every twitch.
When the aftershocks finally subside, your body slackens, thighs trembling as you try to catch your breath. Jaemin presses one last lingering kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you, smug, satisfied, and completely wrecked.
“Told you I’d take care of you,” he murmurs, one hand reaching up to wipe at your face. A tear just rolled down your cheek and you didn’t even realize. “I haven’t even given you my cock yet and you’re already crying?”
Your body is still buzzing, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as you blink down at him. This is it, you think. You’re done. Your legs feel like jelly, and the warmth of his hands on your skin is grounding enough to bring you back down to reality.
You can't believe you just sat on Na Jaemins face.
Still in shock, you move, sliding down from your place above him, hands reaching for the waistband of his pants, ready to return the favor, to touch him, to finally satisfy him—
But Jaemin catches your wrist, stopping you.
“Did you think I was done?” His voice is sweet, teasing, but there’s another promise behind his words that makes your stomach flip. His grip tightens just slightly, his thumb rubbing slow circles against the inside of your wrist.
“Oh, no.” His other hand moves, tracing up your still-sensitive thigh, fingertips grazing higher and higher until they slip between your legs, making you jolt.
“This is about you, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, groaning at how wet you still are. “And I can make you come again.”
Your breath catches, body still sensitive from the first orgasm, but Jaemin doesn’t give you time to recover. Two fingers slip inside you with ease, curling immediately, finding that spot that makes you see stars.
His pace is slow at first, teasing, letting you feel every inch of his fingers as they move inside you. The stretch is perfect, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge of sensitivity, the remnants of your last orgasm making you gasp at every motion.
“You can give me another one, can’t you?” he taunts, lips dragging along your inner thigh. “I know you can.”
Your fingers grip at his wrist, not sure if you’re trying to stop him or pull him deeper. “Jaemin—”
“Shh, I got you,” he soothes, his voice pure sin. His thumb circles your clit in slow, devastating strokes, and your whole body tenses.
He watches you, completely enthralled, eyes dark with something unreadable—something possessive. His fingers pick up the pace, pressing deeper, curling just right, and your thighs twitch with the overwhelming pleasure.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, lips quirking in satisfaction when he feels you clench around him. “Fuck, you like being called mine, hm?”
The heat inside you builds too fast, Jaemin’s touch sending you spiraling again, and before you can stop it, the pleasure snaps—your body jerking, another broken moan leaving your lips as you come undone for the second time.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” he coos, his thumb pressing against your clit as he works his fingers deep, stretching you open. “Come on NaNa’s fingers.”
Jaemin works you through it, easing his pace, letting you ride the high as he coaxes every last bit of pleasure from you. When your body finally sags, his fingers slip out, his hand smoothing over your hip to soothe you.
“There you go,” he whispers, kissing the inside of your knee. “Knew you had one more for me.”
Your head spins, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But before you can fully process it, Jaemin is shifting, his lips finding yours in a slow, indulgent kiss.
And then, he pulls himself up on the bed so that he’s laying on his back with you snuggled against his chest.
“I can give you another.” He grabs your hand and presses it to his bare chest, eyes glinting in the dim light filtering through the window, “You want another, baby?”
Gingerly, you nod your head, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was faster than it should be.
He smiles, “Greedy girl…I like it.”
Pushing himself up onto his knees, he shimmies backwards on the bed until his head in pushed between your thighs again. He looks up at you, lips curled, and eyebrows raised. “You want my fingers or my tongue?”
You’ve had both tonight…but you want more. “Want your cock.”
“Oh baby,” He chuckles, “I told you this was about you, not me.”
“But it’s what I want!” You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows.
You can’t see his reaction, but he licks a long stripe up the inner part of your leg, forcing a shier out of you. “Not tonight, angel. So, tongue, or fingers.”
God, this was gonna be a long night.
The sunlight streaming through the curtains casts a harsh glow on your face as you begin to stir. Disoriented and exhausted, you roll over to escape the brightness, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep.
Realization hits you like a semi-truck.
This bed is not your own.
The sheets feel different, the mattress unfamiliar. Your eyes snap open, and a fleeting moment of confusion sweeps over you.
Oh.
Jaemin’s room—familiar yet disorienting—greets you.
The cream-colored walls are plastered with luxury car and playboy posters, shelves showcasing an impressive array of camera models and strips of film. The floor is strewn with clothes – including your own. His desk sits abandoned of textbooks, and his backpack, which was there last night, is gone.
Looking towards the other side of the bed – it’s apparent that he’s gone too.
At least he had the decency to let you sleep.
Beneath the covers, you become aware of your state of undress, a blush warming your cheeks as the memories of the night flood back.
Just as you start to collect your thoughts, the room’s silence is shattered by the insanely loud ringing of your phone. Panic sets in as you fumble around the bed, searching for the source of the sound.
After a moment of frantic searching, your gaze lands on Jaemin’s desk. There it is – your phone, innocently plugged in to charge.
And the decency to plug in your phone? Unheard of, really.
With a hasty movement, you extricate yourself from the tangled sheets and leap to answer the phone.
Mark’s name flashes across the screen.
“Shit.” You curse, fumbling to press the answer button. Before he can get a word out, you’re already mumbling apologies and promises to make it up to him.
“Dude, calm down.” Mark's voice, though edged with frustration, carries a note of understanding. You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves as you continue to explain.
"I overslept, Mark, seriously. I lost track of time. I'm on my way to the library right now. We can still work on the project, I promise."
There's a brief pause on the other end, and Mark finally answers. "I already came back to my dorm. If you wanna meet here, I don’t mind. My roommates are here though."
Shit.
Mark was one of the unlucky students this year that got placed in the freshman dorms due to a shortage of upperclassmen housing. Instead of sharing an apartment with one other person, and getting his own room, he was cramped with three other guys. And he had to share his room.
“You don’t wanna meet back at the library?”
On the other end of the line he sighs, “I waited for you to show up for an hour dude. When I left, my seat was the only one open. I’m sure it’s taken now.”
Apologizing again seemed futile. “I’ll just come to you. Be there in no time.”
“Ok, just knock when you get here. See ya.” And with that Mark hangs up.
You take a deep breath and set your phone back on the desk.
It’s only when you catch sight of yourself in his full-length mirror that you remember you’re standing naked in the middle of Jaemins room. Your tits are completely out, and judging by the dark bruises painting your chest like some kind of twisted art piece, you were definitely put through it last night.
Jesus, was he trying to brand you? Like, yeah, you get it, he’s good—but was this necessary? Now you have to strategize every outfit for the next week so you don’t look like you got into a street fight with a vacuum cleaner.
The four orgasms were totally worth it though.
You sigh, understanding that this probably wasn’t the moment to bask in the after-non-sex glow, and that you really need to get dressed and get the fuck up out of Jaemins room before 1. Haechan decided to come snooping around or 2. Mark chose to cut you loose from the project and do it himself.
You reluctantly bend down and gather your clothes from the pile on the floor. Frowning, you hold up a crumpled shirt to your nose, wrinkling in distaste. It smelled like a week-old mini bar.
Of course, the one drink you had last night would make an impression on your clothes. It’s clear that decision have consequences, and now you have to deal with the aftermath, because there’s only one option.
Borrow something from Jaemins closet.
Shit.
The closet beckons from across the room. You approach it tentatively, knowing you're crossing into personal territory. Opening the door, you scan the hangers, searching for something that won't scream 'borrowed.' But there aren’t many options for that. You see, Jaemin had three options in his wardrobe: tank tops & gym shorts, oversized hoodies & sweats, and button ups & dress pants.
Sighing, you reach for the closest hoodie, and rifle through the bottom drawers for some sweats. After a moment, you find the ones that weren’t going to be too big on you – a simple grey hoodie that had the logo of NCTU plastered across the back, and the matching pants. At least this combination would give you the cute ‘wearing your boyfriends clothes around campus’ aesthetic. Except he wasn’t your boyfriend – just your best friend who ate pussy like a starved man.
You tug the hoodie over your head and try it make it fit as comfortably as possible. It’s a little too big, but beggars can’t be choosers. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you take in your disheveled appearance.
A part of you wants to nose around the bathroom to find a hairbrush, maybe a spare toothbrush, but that’d be too much of a risk. Haechan could not catch you in a position like this.
After taking a final look around the room, you gather your belongings and prepare to make a hasty exit. The door creaks open, and you freeze, half-expecting Haechan to walk out and catch you in the act.
With one peek around the hallway, you see his door swung wide open. Chancing it, you take a couple steps out and realize that his room is empty.
The universe keeps granting you pardon after pardon.
This string of luck continues as you fumble your way out of the dorm and bolt down the stairs – still no Haechan in sight. In fact, you don’t see a single soul until you find yourself outside of the freshman dormitory. Students lounge on the hammocks situated in front of the building and you walk by without a word.
You’d only been to Marks dorm one other time, and it takes a moment to recall his room number. Honestly, each door looked the same. By some miracle you find the right one – or what you hoped to be the right one.
Delivering a semi-confident knock, you sway awkwardly. You really hoped this was the right room.
From the other side, you hear shuffling and then the door is being swung wide open.
“Hello…” This is not mark. However, the only telltale sign that you were at the right place was this guy’s bright ass silver hair. Looks like someone had fallen victim to Marks hair dye tendencies. “Can I help you?”
He leans against the door frame and crosses his arms over his chest, giving you a once over.
“I’m here to see Mark.” You reply, hoping he’d just let you in.
Of course not.
“I’m Chenle.” He responds.
You don’t know what to say, “Okay, nice to meet you.” What was this kid going to do? Interview you? Interrogate you?
“Are you a freshman?” He asks.
After about three seconds of hesitation, you respond, “Can you let me in? I’m late to meet Mark for our project.” You didn’t want to be mean, but you were over guys flirting with you. There was some actual schoolwork that needed to get done. And this scrawny, silver haired kid was in the way.
“Mark’s not here, but you can come chill with me.” His smirk lights up his entire face, eyes crinkling in delight.
“Chenle, fucking move and let her in.”
Mark’s voice comes from behind Chenle and the boy in question moves backwards in a huff. “I was just getting to know her.” He pouts.
Mark gives you a half-hearted wave and a smile, beckoning you into the dorm. As you step inside, gently closing the door behind you, you realize at how cramped the freshman dorms really were. How could four men live in these conditions?
Barbaric, really.
“Sorry about Chenle. He likes to flirt with anything that walks.” Mark gives a pointed glare to the younger boy, and it makes you giggle.
"Looks like you got a mini Jaemin on your hands” you joke, looking around the room. The small space is cluttered with textbooks, clothes, and various other items – definitely a men’s dorm.
"I was just being friendly," Chenle protests, flashing a charming smile in your direction. "Unlike someone, I know how to make a girl feel welcome."
Mark scoffs, “Oh, please.” He grabs your wrist and starts to tug you to his room, “Come on Y/N, let’s go do this project.”
As Mark pulls you away, Chenle calls after you, "If you get bored, I’m out here.”
You think his determination is kinda cute. Apparently, this offends mark “She’s never gonna go for you dude! Give it up!”
And with that, Mark slams his door shut.
See, it wasn’t that you were stupid, but composing, creating, and editing an entire song longer than a minute and a half wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. Which, by the way, literally had nothing to do with theory.
Thankfully Mark knew guitar, could sing, and already had the song written. You decided to stick to the editing part.
Before long, the assignment was complete and turned in. And it only took half an hour – most of which consisted of trying to figure out the controls on the soundboard without deleting the recorded parts.
It took you a minute, but you finally got the hang of it.
After finishing up, Mark suggested grabbing lunch, and you agreed. The two of you headed to the campus cafe, chatting about everything from music to hockey (that conversation was fleeting), to the latest campus-wide trend of jumping into the fountains.
As you eagerly settled into your seat, ready to indulge in the heavenly experience that awaited you with the loaded tacos, a familiar voice pierced the air.
“Y/N!”
God-fucking-damn-it.
Two seconds later, a wind-blown Hyuck joins your table. His hair was in wild tangles at the top of his head, jacket precariously hanging off one shoulder, and his cheeks sported a subtle shade of tinged pink.
Mark, busy shoveling a forkful of green beans into his mouth, couldn't help but comment, "Why do you look like that?"
"Took the words right outta my mouth," you mumbled, side-eyeing Haechan.
Haechan scoffed, "Why do I look so beautiful, handsome, and sexy?"
"You wish.”
The new addition to your table shoots a glare at you. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
Mark chimed in, “You look like you got caught in a tornado.”
Haechan bangs a fist onto the tabletop, making your water ripple in your glass, “I had to run here.”
“To the café?” You question, taking a tentative bite of your taco.
Haechan rolls his eyes, “No, to the architecture building – yes, to the café.”
Mark, ever the voice of reason, took a drink of water before asking, “Why?”
Haechan gave a dead serious look, treating you and Mark like you were the dumbest people on Earth. "Because it’s taco day."
“So tacos equal running?” You giggle.
Haechan glares at you again, giving you a once over. His eyebrow pops up, “Why are you wearing Jaemins clothes?”
You choke on your taco.
Swallowing hard, you respond, "What? No, these are definitely mine."
Haechan narrows his eyes, clearly skeptical. "Come on, Y/N. I’ve literally scene him wear that exact outfit, like, last week."
Of course you had to pick the one outfit Jaemin wore recently. What were the odds? Actually, knowing your luck? One hundred percent. Should’ve grabbed something from the back of his closet. Maybe a damn tuxedo, just to throw Haechan off your scent.
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, attempting to downplay the situation. "Well, maybe it's just a similar style. Lots of people wear sweat suits like this."
Mark, clueless as could be, chimes in through another mouthful of green beans, "Yeah, Haechan, don't jump to conclusions. It's just an outfit."
Haechan, however, wasn't convinced. He leaned in, scrutinizing the fabric. "I know Jaemin's style like the back of my hand. I’m literally his roommate."
Your heart raced as you desperately tried to deflect his suspicion. Perhaps the best thing to do in this situation was gaslight him. "You're imagining things. It's probably just a coincidence."
He narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mischievous mind audibly turning. "Maybe, but you can't deny it looks good on you. Fits better than it ever did on Jaemin."
That catches you off guard and you struggle to reply, stammering out, “Well, um, I guess people have different body types, right?"
It made no sense. This hoodie literally swallowed you whole.
Mark couldn't contain his laughter, and Haechan throws him an annoyed look. "Stop laughing, Mark. This is serious business."
“Yeah,” Mark wipes away the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, “If you count hitting on Y/N as serious business.”
As Haechan turns to defend himself against Marks allegations, your phone buzzed on the table. A sense of relief washes over you as you check the caller ID. It was Jennie. "Sorry, guys, gotta run. Duty calls," you announce, seizing the opportunity to escape this disappointing lunch date.
Haechan, still fixated on the fact that you were definitely wearing Jaemin’s clothes, smirked. "Sure, dodge the question. Perhaps I’ll go ask Jaem about it later."
Rolling your eyes, you shot back, "You're just mad I went with him last night instead of you."
It was his turn to stammer out a half-muttered response, the apples of his cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. So, what if you’d chosen Jaemin over him? It’s not like he really cared. Okay maybe he did, but really that’s only because he didn’t trust Jaemin to take care of you like you should be taken care of.
Oh, the things he didn’t know.
“Whatever,” he brushes off casually, “I’m eating your tacos if you’re leaving.”
“Have at it.” You retort.
With a quick farewell, you stepped away from the table, answering Jennie’s call as you made your way through the bustling dining room. “Hey, what’s up.”
“Y/N, it’s an emergency! Literally capital E! Can you meet me at the quad foutain? I’m begging you; I desperately need your help! This event is spiraling into a complete disaster!”
You almost get hit in the head with a flying football the moment you step out of the cafeteria doors.
Ducking just in time, you glance around and find the culprit – a shirtless boy in cargos and a beanie – weird combo.
“My bad.” He apologizes, jogging to where you were still reeling. He scoops up the ball and spares you a glance, “You okay?”
“’M fine.” You mumble, brushing off the close call.
He gives you a grin and jogs back to where his friends were waiting impatiently. You feel like you knew him from somewhere – Johnny, you think his name was. You shrug it off and continue walking.
Just another typical day at this stupid university.
With your backpack slung over one shoulder, you navigate through clusters of students, the chatter of voices filling the air. The sun beats down warmly, casting long shadows across the pathway as you make your way towards the heart of the campus—the quad.
The quad, with its lush greenery and towering trees, serves as the central gathering point for students. As you approach, you catch glimpses of the glistening fountain at its center, water dancing in the sunlight.
Students lounge on the grass, textbooks sprawled open, while others toss frisbees or kick soccer balls around. You make sure to keep an eye out for more flying objects.
Laughter mingles with the sound of music drifting from portable speakers as you draw closer to the fountain, searching for Jennie’s familiar figure among the crowd. Yet, as you reach the edge of the quad, your heart sinks a fraction. Jennie is nowhere to be seen.
Instead, standing by the fountain like some Greek god of fuckboy temptation, is Jaemin—crisp white t-shirt, grey sweats hanging just right, and that faded pink hair. You should turn around. You should pretend you never saw him. You should call Jennie and fake an emergency. But nope. Here you are, walking straight toward your doom.
If it weren't for the grin that lights up Jaemin's face as he spots you approaching, you would have probably just walked past him without a word. “Nice outfit.” Jaemin teases, carding a hand through his faded pink hair.
You glance down at yourself, remember you're clad in Jaemin's hoodie and sweatpants, and now you’re face to face with him. A faint blush creeps onto your cheeks. "Uh, thanks," you mumble, tugging at the hem of the oversized hoodie self-consciously. "My clothes smelled like alcohol…I’m sorry if–”
"Y/n, It’s not a big deal," he interrupts, his tone light as he gives you a playful wink.
You nod, grateful for his easy acceptance. "Okay good.”
As you're about to explain your presence, Jaemin beats you to the question. "So what’s up? Whaddya doing here?"
You hesitate, wondering how much to disclose before deciding to keep it simple. "Jennie called, said she needed help with something."
Jaemin's eyebrows raise in amusement. "What a coincidence, me too."
Before you can inquire further, a commotion at the edge of the quad catches your attention. Your eyes widen as you watch Jennie darting through the crowd, her figure unmistakable, clad only in a bright green bikini.
"Girl, what's up?" you exclaim, wondering why your roommate was running through campus barely dressed.
Jennie skids to a stop in front of you, panting slightly but grinning ear to ear. "Hey, sorry I'm late! I called you guys because I need both of you to help with our event.”
You raise an eyebrow, but before you can respond, a few obnoxious catcalls pierce the air, directed at Jennie. Your jaw clenches instinctively, ready to defend your friend, but before you can react, Jennie flips the offenders the most glorious middle finger you've ever seen.
“Perverts.” She grumbles, “Anyways, it’s simple. Walk and talk, okay?”
You and Jaemin nod, following behind her as she guides you through the crowd while explaining what the hell was going on.
"Okay, so," she begins, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation, "Delta Gamma and Pike are hosting a car wash event to raise money for one of the local hospitals. It's all part of our philosophy, you know, brother-sister Greek life thing, whatever." Jaemin shoots you a glance, and you just shrug. You didn’t know much about Greek life either.
"But literally only four sisters and six brothers showed up – which is another problem entirely because I swear half of those new recruits are gonna get dropped for putting me through this much stress." You roll your eyes, knowing she would never do that. "And with only ten people and…"
"Holy shit," you breathe out, stunned by the sheer number of cars lined up.
The three of you halt at the roundabout on the edge of campus, two lines of cars waiting to be washed. There had to be at least thirty, all gleaming in the sunlight, eagerly awaiting their turn for a scrub-down.
Shirtless frat boys were washing one line of cars – spraying the hose water all over their chests and hurling soap bombs at each other. Laughter echoes as soap bubbles fly through the air.
On the opposite side, sorority girls in matching bikinis handle the other line of cars with finesse and charm. Their smiles are as radiant as the sunlight, their laughter tinkling like wind chimes. Despite the heat, they maintain their composure, efficiently scrubbing away dirt and grime while maintaining their impeccable appearance. Boys hang out of their cars, hooting and hollering and cheering.
Jaemin whistles lowly, his eyes scanning the line of vehicles. "Looks like we're in for a busy day," he remarks, a hint of excitement in his voice.
For a split second, you wonder if he’s checking out the girls, but he turns to you and gives you a smile.
Jennie nods, her expression determined. "I know.” she declares, a spark of determination igniting in her eyes. "If you could help out, even for half an hour, I’d appreciate it."
"Of course," Jaemin replies with a grin, his enthusiasm contagious. "We're here to help however we can."
You nod in agreement, "Count us in," you say, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. If Jaemin was staying, you sure as hell weren’t leaving—because what kind of idiot passes up the opportunity to watch six feet of pink-haired temptation scrub cars in slow motion?
“It’s not really about cleaning the cars. Just look sexy and pretend to scrub!” Jennie explains, setting her hands on her hip. She cocks her head to the side, practically begging.
Jaemin grins, “Well, if that’s the case, I can do sexy.”
You snort, “Okay. Fine. Let’s do this.”
Jaemin swiftly hoists his shirt over his head, casually discarding it on the ground. You can't help but notice how good he looks—toned chest, and a stone wall of abs. As he stretches, the muscles in his arms and torso flex and contract, and you watch in fascination.
He jogs over to the boys' side, greeting them with enthusiasm. Their ritualistic embraces appear almost painful to the untrained eye—open hands slapping backs and clasped fists.
However, for you, there was one problem: you didn’t have a bathing suit. So, you opt for the next best thing. With a hint of uncertainty, you peel off Jaemin's hoodie, standing there in your bra. Sure, it was a lacy delicate thing, but it covered up the areas that needed to be.
“Y/n!” Jennie nearly shrieks. You can sense a few other pairs of eyes turning your way, including Jaemin’s. His gaze darkens the second he sees you, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His fingers curl slightly—like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you. There’s something heavy in the way he looks at you, as if he’s fighting an internal battle between restraint and instinct.. “What are you wearing.”
“What?” You grumbled, hands peppering your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that– or maybe Jaemin’s gaze made all this worth it. “I know it’s not a bathing suit, but what can you expect on such short notice? I’m gonna keep the sweats on anyway.”
She shakes her head, “I have a spare bathing suit in my car if you wanna go change into that.” It’s obvious she isn’t going to take no for an answer, so you oblige, snatching the keys out of her hand.
You jog over to Jennie’s car parked in the lot down the brick path. Unlocking the car, you climb inside, glancing around nervously to ensure no wandering students catch you in the midst of your impromptu wardrobe change. Thankfully, there’s parked cars on either side of you, blocking you in. You just hope their owners don’t come out wanting to take a midday drive.
The car’s interior is stifling, heat clinging to your skin like a second layer. The scent of worn leather and faint perfume from Jennie’s air freshener fills the small space as you hurriedly peel off your clothes, the fabric sticking slightly to your damp skin. You hope the tinted windows provide enough cover. The spare bathing suit is a tucked into the pocket on the back of the passenger side seat, and you struggle to get it on without elbowing the car door.
As you struggle with the straps, a pair of familiar eyes catches you off guard. Jaemin, passing by, raises an eyebrow in surprise. Panicking, you duck behind the backseat, using it as a makeshift shield.
Three seconds later there’s a sharp rap on the window.
When you look up, Jaemins face is peering in.
You grab the handle and push open the door – thankful that you at least managed to get on most of the bikini.
“Well look at you.” He grins, climbing into the backseat and closing the door behind himself.
“Jaem–”
You don’t get to finish your sentence because the boy in question grabs your jaw and pushes his lips against yours. It takes you by surprise, but you find his rhythm almost immediately. It’s sweltering in the car, but nothing compares to the heat radiating off his chest as he pushes his body into yours. His tongue drives shamelessly into your mouth, and you open wider, letting him taste you.
His hands slide under you, strong and unyielding, pressing you flush against him. The heat between your bodies is suffocating, but you don’t pull away. One of your legs instinctively wraps around his waist, the friction sending a sharp jolt through your core. He exhales sharply, his breath fanning against your lips, his grip tightening ever so slightly—like he’s holding himself back.
“You look good.” He mumbles against your lips, before pulling back and tugging on the bottom one with his teeth, “Can’t believe everyone else gets to see you like this.” You don’t even realize your eyes are shut before they’re fluttering open. He rests his forehead on your own, “Thought it was just for me?”
You laugh breathlessly, “What happened to it only being friends helping out friends.”
He shares the laugh, “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kinda got a problem and could definitely use your help. It’s your fault after all.”
His confession makes pride bloom in your chest.
Reaching a hand down between what little space there was between you, you grab him through his shorts – a heavy hand palming his growing hard-on. “Oh, this problem?”
“Yeah.” He groans, hips bucking into your touch. “That one.”
You grin up at him, making sure to look deep into his eyes, “Well, I hate to disappoint…”
“No!” He groans, rutting against you to try and feel any dwindling friction, “Don’t say that!”
His response makes you giggle, “If we stay in here much longer, Jennie's bound to come looking.”
He pouts, bottom lip jutting out, eyes like a puppy dog. When he finally understands that he won’t – that he can’t get what he wants, he smiles and steal another kiss. This one is shorter but still makes you shiver.
“After?” You ask, the hope evident in your tone.
“You just can’t get enough of me.”
“Not true!” you swat his arm, “But seeing you out there all buff and shirtless, well, I’ll probably have a problem later too.”
His response is instantaneous, “And I’ll be more than happy to help you out with that…after.”
It was your turn to steal a kiss from him. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you halfway sit up and nip at his lips. He catches you and pulls you deeper – and he keeps going into your head grows thick, and you become dizzy.
“Okay, okay.” You assert, banging weak fist on his shoulder, “We got to go.”
“Want some help with the top? I saw you struggling with it. Let me tie it for you.”
You see, Jaemin was so damn sweet sometimes – especially when he was horny and wanted something – someone. And right now, all he wanted was you.
Twisting around in the cramped back seat was hard, but you manage, and Jaemin expertly ties the back of the bikini so that it wouldn’t fall off halfway through washing someone’s beat up Toyota.
“Thanks.”
"Don’t mention it.” He dismisses the gratitude with a wave, and you push open the door, stepping out. The heat that had built up in the car hits you, and as you emerge, you feel the immediate relief of being able to finally catch a breath.
When he doesn’t immediately follow, you bend down to peek back into the car, “Are you coming?”
“You’re gonna have to give me a minute to…cool down.” He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing to his lap that sported a rather impressive tent.
“Okay.” You laugh, shutting the door and leaving Jaemin to ‘cool down’.
The smile on your face doesn’t dissipate at you walk back to the growing line of cars waiting to be washed by hot sorority sisters in skimpy bathing suits – and Jennie notices, but for the wrong reason.
“You like the bathing suit?” she chirps, “It’s kinda small on you but it looks good!!”
“I love it.” It made Jaemin climb into a hot car with you in the middle of campus, what was there to hate?
She beams, “I knew you would! Now, it’s really simple, just grab a bucket, a sponge, and claim a car that pulls up. The rest is up to you, but as we’ve learned so far, people tend to tip if you put on a little show.” She points to where one of her fellow sisters was leaning over the hood of a Jeep Wrangler and practically using her boobs to wipe around the soapy water. The frat guys leaning out of the windows hoot and holler and cheer for her.
The last thing you wanted to be doing today was putting on a show for sleazy frat boys, but you’d do anything for your roommate.
“I really appreciate this y/n.” she remarked, pulling you in for an embrace.
Like you said, you’d do anything for this pure soul.
“Don’t mention it girl.” You take a look around at the waiting line of cars. There had to be at least fifty. "‘Now, where’s my bucket? And preferably, someone rich enough to make this performance worth it."
Washing cars isn’t so bad – you only get soap in your eye once.
The only reason you got soap in your eye?
Na Jaemin.
Because how were you supposed to focus when he looked like that?
Water sprayed against his chest, each droplet clinging to the ridges of his abs like it had nowhere better to be. His pink hair dripped, plastered to his forehead, and when he ran a hand through it—fuck—you forgot how to breathe for a second.
Was dragging him back to Jennie’s car a bad idea? Probably. Was it on your mind? Absolutely.
But before you could entertain the thought any longer, Jaemin caught your stare—and winked. And like a complete idiot, you freaked out so hard you ended up blinding yourself with soap.
His laugh carried across the row of cars, embarrassment climbing your spine.
But he was looking too. In fact, Jaemin was staring. No—Jaemin was mesmerized. He thought your tits were distracting—but this? This was something else entirely. Because when you turned, revealing bare skin and that goddamn thong bikini, Jaemin forgot how to function. His brain short-circuited, mouth going completely dry, and suddenly, he understood religion. Because this? This was divine intervention.
He must have been staring too long, because Yuta elbowed him—hard.
"That your girl?" Yuta grinned, knowing damn well Jaemin was acting like a man down bad.
Jaemin nearly choked on air. "N-no, she’s just a friend."
Yuta didn’t believe that for a damn second."*
Yuta looks back and forth between the two of you, catching the way you peek up through your lashes in search of Jaemin. When you catch Yuta looking, you duck your head.
“She’s pretty.” Yuta breathes, reaching for the bucket of soapy water he had put down five minutes before.
Jaemin nods his head absentmindedly, “Yeah she is.”
Yuta is no stranger to love. His girlfriend, Chloe, and him have been together for years – ever since they were inexperienced freshmen at NCTU. Chloe was the light of his life, his forever. And the way that Jaemin was eyeing you right now was exactly how Yuta had looked at his girl during orientation at NCTU. A gaze filled with adoration and longing. Yuta bet that if he took Jaemins pulse right now it would be elevated as fuck.
Just as Yuta is about to tell Jaemin to go over there and ask you out, a sleek BMW pulls up to the curb with a soft purr.
The owner parks the car and Jaehyun steps out.
Jaemin can't hear from where he's standing, but he watches as Jaehyun strolls up to you and Jennie with a shit-eating grin.
“Excuse me one second.” Jaemin voices, dropping the sponge in his hand on the sidewalk.
If they weren’t dating yet, it wouldn’t be long, Yuta thinks.
Jaemin reaches you just in time to catch the tail end of Jaehyun’s sentence—and honestly, it takes every ounce of self-control not to swing on him right then and there.. His fists clenching at his sides, Jaemin forces a tight-lipped smile. The sight of you, standing there with a hint of uncertainty in your eyes, serves as a reminder to keep his composure.
"Hey, Jaehyun," Jaemin interjects, his voice steady despite the itch of anger climbing in his throat. "Glad you could make it. We've got plenty of cars to wash."
He doesn’t understand the source of his anger. There's no logical explanation for it. Jaehyun hasn't done anything wrong to you. Perhaps it's because Jaemin has unofficially claimed you as his own, even if only temporarily.
Jaehyun chuckles, “I’m not here to wash cars, this isn’t NEO’s philosophy. Our philosophy is military related. But we’re having a volleyball tournament next week where people can bet, and the money will go to families of fallen soldiers. You can swing by if you’d like.”
"I'll keep that in mind, Jaehyun," Jaemin replies, his voice softer now, the edges of his frustration smoothing out.
Jennie speaks up, “I’ll definitely be there.”
Jaemin’s anger slowly dissipates. He can’t really be mad at a dude that did charity.
“I am here to get my car washed though.” Jaehyun continues, and he turns to look at you.
You don’t say a word, instead, Jennie takes charge, “Well lucky for you, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Don’t worry about payment.” She gives him a smile and Jaehyun doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.
“I was really hoping y/n here could do it?” You didn’t really know what to say. Why Jaehyun was specifically requesting you was odd. If he thought there was something between the two of you last night, he was sadly mistaken. The last thing you wanted was to be subjected to his banter.
And Jaemin wouldn’t let that happen anyways.
You exchange a hesitant glance with Jaemin, who stands beside you, his jaw set. When you look at Jennie, you can tell her heart deflates a little.
Jaehyun's request hangs in the air, and you feel a knot of unease tighten in your stomach.
"How about we all help?" Jaemin's voice cuts through the tension, his words a veiled warning to Jaehyun.
With a forced smile, you nod in agreement, grateful for Jaemin.
All four of you walk over to where Jaehyun’s car is parked, buckets and sponges in hand. Jaehyun persistent gaze lingers on you, and when Jaemin catches him staring at your ass, his anger flares up again.
When you bend down to place your bucket by your feet, Jaehyun leans in a little too close, his voice dripping with perversion as he addresses you directly. "I must say, y/n, I've been looking forward to spending some time with you again."
Your stomach churns at his words—the implication is clear, no matter how polite he tries to sound. This isn’t what you signed up for
With a subtle shift, Jaemin steps forward, effectively intercepting Jaehyun's advances. "Let's get started," he declares, his tone authoritative.
The task at hand becomes a welcome distraction, the rhythmic swish of water against the car offering a momentary reprieve from Jaehyun’s flirtation.
Well, until he opened his mouth again.
"So, have you always been this skilled with your hands?" Jaehyun's voice comes from behind you and when you look at him, you catch him smirking. "Or is it just with cars?"
Jaemin snaps.
"Okay, you know what?" he lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, hurling his bucket onto the ground with a loud slap. "I think we’re done here."
Jaehyun smirks. "What, can’t take a joke?"
Jaemin takes a step forward. "Oh, I can take a joke just fine. But here’s the thing—I don’t think Y/N finds you very funny."
You blink, caught off guard, and Jaemin doesn’t miss it.
Your heart breaks a little for your roommate. It was apparent that Jaehyuns move on you hurt her even more. And there was nothing you could do about it because you made this happen. It was your fault.
Jaemin doesn’t care to listen to Jaehyuns stammered out apology. You don’t either. You just let Jaemin grab your hand and tug you down the path. The pile of his clothes from earlier lies forgotten on the ground, completely abandoned.
Like last time, Haechans shoes sit tauntingly at the front door.
Unlike last time, Jaemin wastes no time in dragging you to his room, closing the door, and locking it.
His words come out in a low growl while he paces the room, “Don’t know why that guy thinks he can flirt with you like that. It’s so fucking weird. I mean, I know you look good,” he stops mid rant to look at you, eyes widening at the small bikini barely covering your exposed body, “So fucking good…but that doesn’t mean he can be a perv.”
Yeah, okay, hypocrite.
“Jaemin.” You whisper.
He throws a hand out, back to pacing. You watch his muscles contract and ripple with the force of his breathing. It didn’t make sense why he was getting so worked up.
“No, I get it. He’s a good-looking guy. But you…He shouldn’t even think about you. It’s like you’re here.” Jaemin puts a hand up over his head, and one far below his waist, “And he’s down here. You’re way too good for him.” Jaemin lets out a breathless chuckle, “And to do it in front of me, no less. Bastards got some really big balls.”
You barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes. The way he’s talking, you’d think Jaehyun was a bridge troll. Sighing, you sit back on the bed, not caring if you get it wet. “Not that big.” You mutter to yourself.
He ignores you again.
And you’re about sick of it.
“I mean, could he have been any more fucking pathetic? ‘Have you always been skilled with your hands? Or is it just with cars?’ Like what kind of shit is that. Any pickup line he could’ve chosen and he went with that?”
Jaemin's words echoed off the walls, his frustration palpable in the air, while you come to the realization that your slightly damp bathing suit was rather uncomfortable to be lounging around in.
And perhaps if he saw you without the bikini top, he’d finally stop his ranting and do something useful.
Like, say, fuck you into next week.
Because watching Jaemin pace shirtless, ranting about how other men didn’t deserve you, looking like he was one sentence away from going full caveman and staking a claim— well, it made you all hot and bothered.
You hated to use that phrase, but it was true.
With deft fingers, you unfastened the ties of your bikini top, the fabric slipping from your shoulders as you held it aloft in your hand. With a swift and calculated motion, you tossed it gently in Jaemin's direction, the fabric fluttering through the air before landing squarely on his path.
"Hey, what the—?" Jaemin's voice trailed off as he stooped to pick up the discarded bikini top, his confusion giving way to amusement as he held it up before him. "Well, well, well..." Jaemin turned towards you, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Looks like you're missing something there, sweetheart."
You meet his gaze, feeling light and playful, warmth bubbling in your chest at the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s finally snapped out of his irritation and sees you for what you are: his.
“Oops! Must’ve slipped off,” you quip, stretching out lazily on the bed like you’ve got all the time in the world. “Thanks for catching that for me.”
Jaemin’s laughter fills the room, shaking his head as he steps closer, tossing the bikini top back in your direction, the fabric landing softly at your feet.
"Anytime," Jaemin replied, his tone biting.
His gaze drags down your body, taking his time, drinking you in like he doesn’t know where he wants to touch first. His jaw tenses as his fingers twitch at his sides.
“You think you’re funny, huh?” He tilts his head, voice dipping lower, more serious now.
You smirk, confidence flooding through you at the way he’s looking at you—hungry, wanting, aching. “I think you’re talking too much.”
Jaemin exhales a sharp breath through his nose, like he’s trying to hold onto the last bit of restraint he has left. Then, in a blur of movement, he’s on you—one knee pressing into the mattress, hands grabbing your hips, dragging you toward him like he owns you.
“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice laced with something dark and promising.
And you can’t fucking wait.
His mouth is on you before you can even breathe, kissing you with enough force to knock every last coherent thought from your mind. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into the soft skin as he presses you down beneath him.
“You wanna tease me, baby?” he murmurs against your lips, nipping at your bottom one. “You wanna throw your little bikini at me like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing?”
You hum against his mouth, hands slipping up his bare chest, nails raking lightly over his toned muscles. “What if I did?”
Jaemin groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “Then I’m gonna have to remind you who you belong to.”
His hands move fast, slipping beneath your body to grip your ass, lifting you against him. You can feel the heat of him through his swim trunks, his hardness pressing right where you need him most. The sensation makes you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair.
Jaemin takes the sound as an invitation, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, pausing only to suck a mark into your collarbone before moving lower. His lips trace over the tops of your breasts, teasing, never quite where you want him, and it makes you squirm beneath him.
“Jaem—”
He tuts, dragging his teeth over your sensitive skin. “Patience, pretty girl.”
His tongue flicks against your nipple, a slow, agonizing tease before he finally closes his lips around it, sucking just enough to send a sharp wave of pleasure through you.
Your back arches instinctively, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and Jaemin groans at the sound, switching to the other breast, lavishing the same attention before continuing his descent down your body.
He pauses just above the waistband of your bikini bottoms, glancing up at you with hooded eyes. “You gonna stop me?”
You shake your head quickly, breathless. “Not a chance.”
Jaemin smirks, fingers hooking into the damp fabric, slowly peeling them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time.”
Jaemin doesn’t waste time.
One second, you’re sprawled beneath him, breathless and burning from the way his lips and hands explore your skin, and the next, you’re being lifted. A startled gasp leaves you as Jaemin hauls you up effortlessly, arms securing you against his chest like you weigh nothing.
“Jaemin—”
You barely get his name out before your back meets the wall, his body pressing flush against yours, caging you in. The cool surface is a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him, sending a shiver down your spine. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, hands clutching at his shoulders.
Then you realize which wall he’s pinned you against.
The one that separates his room from Haechan’s.
“Haechan.” You murmur.
Jaemin freezes for half a second before his grip on you tightens, fingers pressing deeper into your thighs where he holds you against the wall. His eyes flick to yours, dark, curious.
"God, why are you so fucking worried about him?" His voice is rough, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s daring you to say more.
"I-I just don’t want him to hear us," you whisper, even though your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.
Jaemin’s lips curl into a slow smirk, his hips rolling just enough to remind you of the position you’re in. "You know what?"
"What?" Your breath hitches when his hands shift, pressing you harder against the wall.
"Let’s play a game." His voice is low, dripping with amusement. "It’s called ‘don’t get caught.’"
Your stomach flips, heat rushing through you. "How do you p-play?"
Jaemin leans in, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear, voice nothing but a sinful whisper. "Well, I get to fuck you against this wall, and you have to try and keep your pretty little mouth shut."
Oh.
Oh, no.
Your pulse spikes—not just at his words, but at the absolute confidence in his tone. The way he’s so sure he’s about to ruin you.
Which, okay—fair assumption.
But keeping quiet?
With Jaemin?
You were already losing.
Your head falls back against the wall with a quiet thud, a shaky breath leaving you as his words sink in. You shouldn’t be this turned on. Not by the risk, not by the idea of Haechan being just feet away, completely unaware of what’s about to happen.
But you are.
And Jaemin knows it.
"You like that idea, don’t you?" He tilts his head, pressing a soft, taunting kiss to your jawline before dragging his lips down the side of your throat. "Bet it makes you even wetter."
You let out a shaky exhale, fingers curling into his shoulders. "Jaemin—"
He cuts you off by rolling his hips again, pressing the hard length of him right against your core. A strangled sound catches in your throat, and his smirk only grows.
"Shhh, baby," he coos, mockingly sweet. "You wouldn’t want him to hear, right?"
Your face burns, but you still can’t find it in yourself to stop him. You don’t want to. The thrill, the way Jaemin looks at you like he wants to devour you—it’s all too much.
His lips ghost over your collarbone, hands gripping tighter. "You trust me?"
You swallow, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah."
Jaemin hums in satisfaction, his tongue flicking over the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "Then be a good girl and take everything I give you."
His hands grip your thighs tighter, pressing you further into the wall, the cool surface grounding you for all of two seconds before he shifts his hips and drags the thick length of him against your soaked core. The friction alone sends a shudder through you, and Jaemin chuckles lowly, completely aware of how wrecked you already are.
“You really don’t want him to hear, huh?” His voice is dripping with amusement, teasing, as he rolls his hips again, letting the head of his cock nudge against your entrance but not pushing in. “Then you better keep those pretty little noises to yourself.”
You swallow down a whimper, biting your lip as your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Jaemin, please.”
He hums, pretending to think about it before shaking his head. “Nah. I like hearing you beg.”
Without warning, he pushes in, stretching you open in one slow, torturous thrust. Your breath catches in your throat, body tensing at the sheer pressure of him inside you. Jaemin groans at the feeling, forehead pressing against yours as his fingers dig into your skin.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice rough. “So tight for me.”
Your nails scrape down his back, mouth parting as you struggle to keep yourself from moaning out loud. The stretch is too much, too good, and Jaemin knows it. He gives you a second to adjust before rolling his hips again, thrusting deep, setting a pace that has your head spinning.
The sound of skin against skin fills the room, each movement pressing you harder into the wall, the force of his thrusts making the drywall creak. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as Jaemin buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking a mark into your skin.
“Jaemin—” You choke on your own voice, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.
“Shhh,” he warns, nipping at your jaw. “Don’t want our best friend knowing you’re getting dicked down by your other best friend, right?”A deep thrust punctuates his words, knocking the breath from your lungs. Jaemin pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with something possessive. “But, since you can’t keep quiet, how about you open that pretty mouth and moan a little louder, yeah?” His smirk is wicked, taunting. “Give him a taste of what he can’t have.”
Your whole body tenses, shame and arousal intertwining into something dangerously intoxicating. “Jaemin, you’re such an ass—”
“But you love it,” he interrupts, grinning. “You love knowing he’s right there. That he could hear if you get too loud.” Your walls clench around him involuntarily, and Jaemin groans, his grip tightening on your hips. “Yeah, just like that. Let him know exactly how good I make you feel.”
You try to fight it, try to keep yourself quiet, but Jaemin’s pace is merciless, dragging pleasure out of you with every snap of his hips. Your thighs tremble around his waist, nails leaving half-moon marks on his skin as the tension inside you coils tighter and tighter.
“Go on, baby,” he coaxes, voice pure sin. “Let him hear you.”
Jaemin can feel you unraveling, your legs tightening around him, body trembling with every deep thrust he drives into you against the wall. But he’s not done.
Not even close.
With one last punishing snap of his hips, he pulls back, arms still secure beneath your thighs as he carries you away from the wall. You barely have time to whimper a protest before your back hits the mattress, the shift so sudden that it knocks the air from your lungs.
Jaemin hovers over you, eyes glazed, lips slick and parted as he drinks in the sight of you spread out beneath him. “Thought I was gonna let you off easy?” he taunts, gripping your chin between his fingers. “You should know me better than that.”
You barely have a second to respond before he flips you over, forcing you flat on your stomach, his body pressing over yours. A warm, heavy weight settles at the nape of your neck as he leans in, voice rough in your ear. “You feel that, baby?” He drags his cock through your slick folds, teasing, making you squirm. “Still so fucking wet for me.”
A strangled whine leaves you, and Jaemin chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my girl.”
Then, with no warning, he thrusts back inside you, punching a moan from your lips as your fingers fist into the sheets. The angle is brutal—deeper, sharper, every inch of him dragging against your walls in a way that has your mind short-circuiting.
Jaemin doesn’t ease into it. He’s lost now, completely caught in the way you take him, how your body sucks him in like you were made for him. His bicep curls around your throat, locking you in place, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you senseless.
“Look at you,” he groans, his jaw slack, eyes fixed on the mirror in front of you both. The reflection is obscene—your body rocking against his, his arm flexing where it holds you still, veins peeking from beneath his flushed skin.
His grin spreads, animalistic, as you let out a choked sound, your face growing hotter the longer he keeps you in that hold, pressed against hard muscle, body burning from the sheer intensity of it all.
“You can take it, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand dragging down your spine, pressing into the small of your back. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.”
His pace falters for half a second—just a fraction—before he lets out a shuddered breath, head dropping against your shoulder. He’s losing his grip, caught in the way you clench around him, how perfect you feel.
“She’s so pretty,” he thinks to himself, mind spinning, thoughts slurring as he fucks you through his own haze. “Need to—fuck—need to breed her.”
His teeth sink into your shoulder, a possessive growl ripping through him as he drives into you harder, deeper, lost in the only thought circling in his head:
Jaemin is gone.
There’s nothing left in his head but you—the way your body squeezes him so perfectly, the way your voice breaks every time he thrusts deeper, the way you’re letting him ruin you.
His grip around your throat tightens just a little, keeping you pressed against him, keeping you where he wants you. His breath is ragged, uneven groans slipping past his lips as he watches the way your mouth parts, the dazed look in your eyes reflecting in the mirror.
“Fuck, baby,” he grits out, thrusts turning erratic, desperate. His fingers dig into your hip, holding you down as he pounds into you. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t—shit—can’t hold out much longer.”
You don’t think you can either.
Your entire body is trembling, pleasure pooling low in your stomach, so tight it’s unbearable. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can only feel the way Jaemin is slamming into you, his muscles flexing beneath you as his control slips entirely.
“J-Jaemin—”
“Yeah, baby,” he pants, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “I know. Just—fuck, just let go for me.”
And then—
A loud bang shakes the wall.
Your eyes snap open in horror, and Jaemin stills for half a second before a voice—Haechan’s voice—cuts through the air.
“Can you two shut the fuck up?! Some of us are trying to sleep!”
A sharp, startled gasp rips from your throat, but Jaemin—Jaemin just laughs.
The sound is low, deep, cocky, vibrating against your back as he picks up his pace again, rolling his hips into you with new determination. “Oh, baby,” he taunts, voice dripping with amusement, “you hear that?”
You can’t respond—you’re too busy trying to not completely fall apart, but Jaemin doesn’t care. His hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate circles that make you arch into him, keening.
“Guess he heard after all.” His voice is rough, laced with a breathless chuckle. “Pretty girl getting fucked so good she’s keeping Haechan awake? And she likes it?”
You shake your head wildly, but your body betrays you, walls clenching around him so tight he nearly chokes on his own moan.
“Oh, you do,” Jaemin groans, thrusts turning punishing. “God, you fucking do.”
You can’t take it. The pressure, the tension, the way everything is building so fast—
“Jaem—”
“I got you, baby,” he grits out, fingers moving faster, hips snapping against yours. “Come for me. Come with me.”
One last thrust—deep, perfect, devastating—and you fall.
A choked cry slips past your lips as your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot pleasure consuming you whole. Your entire body convulses, squeezing Jaemin so tight he snaps, burying himself to the hilt as he follows you over the edge.
A guttural moan rips from his throat as he spills inside you, hips jerking in short, stuttering thrusts, riding out both of your highs. His arms tighten around you, holding you through every pulse, every tremor, every aftershock that leaves you utterly spent beneath him.
The room is thick with heat, with the sounds of heavy breathing, with the weight of what just happened.
Jaemin should stop.
He should be too spent. But he’s not. He can’t be.
Even as he shudders against you, panting against your shoulder. Even as his arms tremble from holding you so tight. He’s still moving. Still rolling his hips into you. Slower now but deeper, grinding himself into your swollen, overstimulated walls like he never wants to leave.
“J-Jaemin,” you whimper, voice wrecked. Your body still twitching from your orgasm.
He groans; mouth hot against your neck. His breath is ragged. “Just a little more,” he murmurs. Desperation thick in his voice. “Just—fuck—just let me give you all of it.”
His pace picks up again. Sharp. Desperate thrusts drag overstimulation through you. Making you gasp. Making you cling to him. He’s whining now. His breath hitching as he forces himself through his own sensitivity. Chasing something only he understands.
“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes. His forehead presses into the crook of your neck. “So fucking perfect—fuck—”
His body is shaking. His fingers bruising where they grip your hips. His thrusts erratic. Mindless. Every muscle in his body working toward one thing—
Filling you up. Making sure you get all of him.
His jaw slackens. Eyes flutter shut. His head drops back. His mouth parts around a helpless moan. “God, baby—taking me so well—taking all of it—”
And then he’s coming again.
His whole body seizes. A wrecked cry breaks from his lips as he spills into you. Warmth floods deep inside you. Making your head spin. His hips jerk. Pushing himself as deep as he can go. His cock twitches with every last pulse. Every last drop he forces into you.
He’s whimpering. Gripping you tight. Hips stuttering through the aftershocks. Milking himself dry.
It’s too much. Too good. You don’t even realize you’re moaning his name again until Jaemin shudders and collapses on top of you.
The weight of him. The heat of him. The feeling of him still buried inside you. It’s all too much.
But you don’t want him to move.
Neither does he.
The warmth of Jaemin’s body lingers against yours, the weight of him heavy, grounding. His breath is still uneven, ghosting over your shoulder as his chest rises and falls in ragged intervals.
For a moment, neither of you move. The room is thick with heat, with the scent of sweat and sex, with the quiet hum of something that feels good. Right.
But then, Jaemin shifts.
His muscles tense beneath your touch. His hands, once gripping you like he never wanted to let go, loosen and slide away. Before you can register what’s happening, he’s pulling out, the loss of him sudden, leaving you sensitive and dazed.
You recline comfortably on the bed, the softness of the sheets embracing you like a warm hug. Jaemin stands by the door, his bare torso glistening in the soft light filtering through the window. With a mischievous grin, he slips out of the room, leaving you alone.
As the front door creaks open, confusion flits across your mind. Where could he be going, and why now? Your thoughts race with possibilities, each more curious than the last. You strain your ears, trying to catch any sound that might offer a clue. Did he really just leave the fucking dorm?
Minutes stretch into eternity until, finally, the door swings open once more, and Jaemin steps back into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. In his hands, he carries two plastic take out bags, their savory aroma filling the air.
“I ordered us food when we were on the way back,” Jaemin announces with a grin as he approaches the bed, setting the tray down before you. “I got you chicken nuggets!”
It’s two am when you’re jolted awake by nothing in particular.
You suspect it has something to do with Jaemins low snoring – just softly into the shell of your ear. His arms are slung around you, one curled over your hip, the other underneath your neck acting like a makeshift pillow. Despite his hard lined muscles, he was surprisingly soft.
And it all felt a little too domestic.
Not that that’s bad – but it’s Jaemin you’re talking about here, and when did he ever do domestic.
As you lay there, a subtle panic begins to creep in. You couldn’t stay the night. Not when you were wide awake and freaking out over him cuddling you. But the sheets were so warm – he was warm – and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes and just sleep.
No. You couldn’t. No matter if you wanted to or not.
Carefully disentangling yourself from Jaemin's embrace, you glance at the clock, anxiety settling in as you calculate the time it would take to slip out unnoticed.
The room is dimly lit – just enough for you to fumble through the pile of clothes on the floor and find his clothes you were wearing earlier. It’s kinda shitty that you’re stealing his clothes and dipping at the same time, but you don’t think he’ll mind.
You grab your phone off the desk and stuff it in your back pocket. Now was the tricky part – opening the door without it creaking and waking up the entire dorm floor. But just as you reached for the doorknob, Jaemin's voice broke the silence. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, his eyes barely visible in the dim light.
Startled, you turned to face him. Of course, he’d wake up and ruin your attempted escape plan that you spent five minutes freaking out over.
Jaemin sat up, his expression unreadable.
"I didn't want to be here when Haechan woke up." you explained in a hushed tone.
Jaemin nodded, understanding evident in his gaze. "You don't have to sneak out, you know. It's not like you're one of my hoes. You're a friend, and you can stay as long as you need. You can crash on the couch if you want?"
Surprised by his nonchalant response, you stammered out a thanks. "I really should just get back. Haechan asks too many questions. Plus, he already thinks something up because of the outfit thing.” You sway awkwardly in front of the door, “By the way, with the clothes and everything, I’ll wash them and bring them back when I can…"
Jaemin interrupted with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. Friends help each other out. It's not a big deal."
Relieved, you thanked him again. When you’re about to turn around and book it, Jaemin's speaks up, catching you off guard.
"Are you going to Jeno's hockey game tomorrow?" he asked, a casual note in his voice.
You nodded, "Yeah, I was planning to."
"Great," Jaemin replied. "Get home safe, Y/N. See you tomorrow."
With that, he rolled over, settling back into bed. His fluffy pink hair being the only thing you could see.
Well, that was a lot easier than you thought.
When you get home, the first thing you do is sit on your bed and stare at the wall.
Because what the fuck just happened?
You fucked Jaemin.
Like—actual, real-life, no-going-back, holy-shit-it-finally-happened fucked Jaemin.
It still doesn’t feel real.
Like, there should have been a warning, some kind of celestial sign that this was the day you’d cross that line. Maybe an earthquake. A shooting star. Haechan suddenly becoming abstinent from redbull.
Something.
But instead? You’re here, legs still wobbly, brain still fried, and the most whorish man you’ve ever met is currently leading the leaderboard of the best dick you’ve had in your entire life.
So, naturally, there’s only one thing left to do.
You grab your journal.
Like Haechan’s rating, there isn’t really a system—just gut feelings, raw statistics, and some level of pettiness. But that doesn’t matter.
Pen scratches against the paper as you start taking notes.
Points for multiple orgasms. (Your soul left your body at least twice.)
Points for teasing. (Menace. Absolute menace.)
Points for reassuring you. (Somehow both the softest and filthiest man alive.)
Points for talking you through your orgasm. (What the fuck was that? Like, actually?)
Major points for acting like everything was normal after. (Like he didn’t just ruin you against a wall.)
And finally, points for ordering takeout after. (Chicken nuggets? Unreal.)
After much deliberation, it’s decided. Jaemin receives a 9.3/10.
You pause.
Then suddenly scribble in an extra half point for Haechan and his voyeuristic ass at the library, bumping him up to a 7.9/10.
For a moment, you debate adding Jaehyun. He wasn’t part of the challenge, but keeping a record of all your endeavors might be beneficial.
Beneficial for what, you don’t know.
Still, after a minute of deliberation, you write his name down. And next to it?
1/10. So sad. Too bad.
With a satisfied sigh, you lean back and admire your work.
Congratulations, Jaemin.
You are currently ranked as the number one best fuck in the friend group.
For now.
Everything’s fine.
Everything is jussssst fine.
Except the two boys – your best friends to be precise – are sitting on either side of your body in a densely packed stadium, and perhaps your adrenaline is at an all-time high.
Like, who even cares that you took Haechans virginity. And honestly, fucking Jaemin was going to happen sooner or later…he was running out of fresh bodies on campus.
Right?
Right??
“You want a hotdog?”
Jaemin, clad in an NCTU hockey jersey, turns his attention to you, breaking you out of your thoughts. His pink hair falls into his eyes and you resist the urge to brush it away.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” You mumble. It felt like he’d caught you in something. For a moment, you wonder if he could tell you were slightly panicking.
But if he did, he doesn’t show it. He just gets out of his seat and starts heading up the concrete stairs towards the concession stand.
Haechan watches him leave, voice whiny, “Why didn’t he offer to get me one.”
Alone now, the crowd's buzz envelops you, the distant echo of cheers mingling with the hushed anticipation of halftime. Haechan's disappointment hangs in the air like a lingering question mark, drawing your attention to the empty seat beside you.
“Want to grab one yourself?” you snark, gesturing towards the concession stand where Jaemin disappeared into the crowd.
Haechan huffs, crossing his hands over his chest, “No need to be mean.”
Jaemin returns ten minutes later, clutching a steaming hotdog wrapped in foil. The aroma wafts through the air, triggering a wave of nausea that swirls in your stomach like a tempest. He settles back into his seat beside you, a grin lighting up his face as he unwraps the hotdog with eager anticipation. “Missed out, huh?” he teases, gesturing towards the now-opened concession.
You manage a weak smile, trying to ignore the churning in your stomach. “Yeah, looks like it,” you murmur, your voice strained against the rising discomfort.
As Jaemin takes a bite, relishing the taste of the hotdog, you fight the urge to turn away, the scent overpowering your senses. Each breath feels heavier, laden with the aroma that now threatens to engulf you.
Desperate to escape the suffocating smell, you rise from your seat, a wave of dizziness washing over you. “I think I need some fresh air,” you mutter, your words barely audible over the crowd’s clamor.
Jaemin’s expression shifts, concern flickering across his features as he watches you retreat. “You, okay?” he calls after you, the worry evident in his voice.
You offer a weak nod, a feeble attempt to reassure him as you navigate through the throng of spectators. You don’t notice Haechan following behind until you pass security and step out of the arena doors.
“Hey,” his voice cuts through the cool night air, “You sure you’re okay?”
Your steps falter for a moment, “Yeah,” you manage, your voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of cheering within the arena. “Just needed a breather.”
Haechan nods, his gaze unwavering as he studies you. In the quiet stillness of the night, the distant echoes of the game fade into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your shared breaths.
“Thanks for checking on me,” you offer, gratitude genuine in your voice.
A soft smile graces Haechan’s lips, “Just because you’re mean to me doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
His words hang heavy in the air, and once again, you’re reminded of what Mark said, ‘It meant so much more to him’.
You want to believe that he’s saying this as your friend. That it’s just a friendly gesture and nothing more. But one look at his face tells you it’s not. This is something he’s been wanting to say for a while – and your stomach coils at the thought.
“Haechan.” How were you supposed to navigate this…this rejection. “We can’t do this.”
He doesn’t bother teasing you. Doesn’t bother pretending like he doesn’t know what you mean.
"I know," he murmurs, "I just had to say it." There's a palpable ache in his words, as if they’re restrained. Oh, there’s so much more he wants to say.
"I appreciate you, Haechan," you offer, your voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze meets yours, and you fight the urge to back track on everything you just said. The look is broken beyond repair – his water line already filled with tears that threatened to spill on his honey gold cheeks.
“Y/n.” he starts, taking a step towards you. When he reaches his hand out, aiming to land on the side of your cheek, a touch that was surely to end in a kiss, you take a hesitant step backwards.
“Haechan, don’t,” you murmur, the words catching in your throat like a plea for understanding.
His hand hesitates mid-air, fingers curling back as if recoiling from the sting of rejection. The anguish in his eyes mirrors your own turmoil.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice a fragile thread, "I didn't mean to push you."
You swallow thickly, “We can’t.”
“But we can.” He counters, taking another step towards you. His eyes search yours for any ounce of longing. It couldn’t be one sided. It couldn’t. “Just give me a chance, please.” His voice breaks on the last words and so does your heart.
This was so out of the blue. You came to watch Jeno’s hockey game, and instead you’re breaking your best friend’s heart. Why did you have to be the bad guy all the time.
Haechan reaches for you again and this time you have to brush his hand away. “We can’t.” You affirm. You hated this. “I’m sorry if you’ve gotten the wrong idea–”
“So, it meant nothing?” His voice is rising, eyes swimming with anger, with hurt, “Everything that happened, everything we did…it meant nothing?”
“It didn’t mean nothing, but we already discussed–”
“Yeah.” He spits angrily. “I remember. Trust me I do. I lay awake at night going over that fucking conversation like clockwork. Over and over and over again. I’ve been getting drunk just to stop thinking about it.” His hands tear at the roots of his hair in frustration, “Fuck, y/n, I can’t get you out of my head and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Haechan…” You want to reach out, give him a hug, get your friend back. Something. Anything.
He takes another step forward, grabbing your shoulders, grip tight with desperation. “Please. I need you. I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad. It’s killing me.” You think he’s about to lean in for a kiss, but he just cocks his head to the side, “Please.”
Your heart clenches as his words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You're thankful that this side of the stadium laid empty, because onlookers would have made this so much worse.
“It was a one-time thing.” you mumble, voice firm despite the tremble in your words.
“But it wasn’t.” he whispers, “The library, remember? That’s how I know this can’t just be a me thing. You have to feel something too. I know you do.”
"I..." Your voice falters, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Haechan, I care about you, but..." The words catch in your throat.
Tears glisten in his eyes as he takes a step back, the anguish written across his face. “Y/n…”
“Don’t say it, please, don’t say it.”
But the words tumble from his lips, a final plea, “Y/n, I love you.”
Everything comes to a crescendo, sounds and thoughts clashing together. The choked sob rips from your throat, and you let it. You let him see the pain you were feeling too. But you couldn’t return his testament. You couldn’t.
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.” His voice is strong, even if the tears were streaming down his face and his throat felt thick, “I do.”
What the hell were you supposed to do. He wasn’t listening to you.
“Haechan, go home.” You plead. He couldn’t keep this up. Not here, not now. But he stands there, rooted in place, his gaze fixed on yours with a fierce determination that sends shivers down your spine.
“You have to feel the same.” He murmurs, more to himself than you.
He wasn’t going to stop this until you broke his heart completely. You might be the villain, but he wasn’t giving you any opportunities to be the hero here.
“I don’t.” You declare, not bothering to look him in the eyes. You couldn’t. “I don’t love you, Haechan. I never did, and I never will. I’m sorry.”
Avoiding his gaze, you hear him laugh bitterly. He spits on the sidewalk and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “Wow.” He breathes, “Jennie was right. You really are a cold, stone-hearted bitch.”
What? Jennie?
You don’t have the opportunity to ask him what he means, because when you look back up, he’s already walking away, his figure fading into the night like a ghost.
He should have never followed you. Should have kept his mouth fucking shut. How could he be so stupid? To think you’d want him the same. What did he expect? That you’d throw yourself at him? That you’d accept him as yours. He should have known girls like you didn’t want to be tied down. Especially not to guys like Haechan.
Tears blur your vision as you watch him go, the weight of his words cutting deeper than you care to admit. You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to hold it together, but the floodgates open, and you're left gasping for air amidst a torrent of emotions.
Haechan's accusation echoes in your mind, a painful reminder of the fractures in your facade, the cracks in your carefully constructed armor. You overthink every word, every action, wondering if you truly deserve the label he's bestowed upon you.
You told him on night one that this wasn’t going to be anything. That it couldn’t. Yet, he was still hopeful. You ruined him.
Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a flicker of defiance ignites within you—a reminder that you are more than the sum of his accusations, more than the pain etched into his departing figure.
His hurt is not your own.
You just hope you haven’t lost him forever.
With trembling hands, you wipe away the tears, steeling yourself to go back into the stadium. You didn’t want to. You wanted to go home and cry until you passed out with puffy eyes and a stopped-up nose. But Jaemin was waiting for your return, and Jeno needed you as his good luck charm.
You couldn’t disappoint everyone tonight.
When you return to your seat, Jaemin immediately knows something is wrong.
He shoots you a concerned glance, but you brush off his constant questions. You admit that Haechan went home, but you lie, saying it was because he was feeling sick.
As the hockey game continues before you, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, unable to focus on the action unfolding on the ice. Not even when Jeno nearly gets into a fight with the opposing team does it manage to capture your attention. You merely watch the refs get between the clashing boys, holding on to Jeno’s fist that was already bloody from beating on the other guy’s helmet.
Jaemin doesn't press you further either, deciding to leave you alone entirely.
You only half-heartedly clap and cheer when Jeno scores the winning goal, securing victory for the NCTU hockey team. The crowd erupts in hoots and hollers, but your mind remains elsewhere.
As the final buzzer sounds and the crowd begins to filter out of the stadium, you and Jaemin make your way to the plexiglass that separates the rink from the seats. The victory celebrations fade into the background as you focus on finding Jeno amidst the chaos.
Finally spotting him, you and Jaemin exchange a glance before pressing your hands against the cold surface of the plexiglass. Jeno's eyes meet yours, a mixture of exhaustion and triumph reflected in their depths.
"Congratulations," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but the genuine warmth behind your words is unmistakable.
Jeno offers a tired smile, his fist bumping against the glass in silent acknowledgment.
That was all you could do before his coach started yelling for him to get in the locker room. Watching him skate away, you turn to Jaemin. “You going home?”
Jaemin looks at you, concern etched into his features. “Yeah, do you need me to walk you home?” he asks gently.
You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “No, I think I’ll wait around for Jeno,” you reply, “You can go ahead.”
Jaemin studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of reassurance. “Are you really okay?” he asks.
He knows something is up. He wished you would just tell him.
You offer a weak nod. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I just... I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”
Understanding flickers in Jaemin’s eyes as he steps closer, wrapping you in a comforting hug. “I’m here if you need anything,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the confusion raging within you. You cling to the embrace for a moment longer, drawing strength from the warmth of his presence. And as you pull away, a sense of resolve settles over you.
He walks away with a smile, his steps echoing through the nearly empty stadium. Turning back to the locker room, you wait patiently for Jeno, your heart heavy with anticipation. Minutes stretch into eternity as you watch the hockey players leave one by one, the coach giving you a curious glance but saying nothing.
With a deep breath, you gather your courage and approach the locker room door. “Jeno?” you call out.
The door creaks open, revealing Jeno’s tired face. “Come in,” you hear him say faintly.
You push open the door and see him sitting on a wooden bench surrounded by dark blue, metal lockers. The one in front of his hunched figure is open, hockey gear spilling out. Jeno sits shirtless, nursing the hand that was bleeding earlier.
In the dimly lit locker room, silence hangs heavy between you and Jeno at first, each of you lost in your own thoughts.
“You were amazing out there,” you finally say, breaking the silence. He had been amazing, even if you hadn’t been paying attention – too caught up in Haechan’s admittance.
Jeno meets your gaze, gratitude shining in his tired eyes. “Thank you,” he replies. “The team is going out to celebrate,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “Are you... are you going with us?”
“Didn’t know I was invited,” you laugh.
He cracks a smile too, “Well, I wasn’t going to go, but I will if you go with me.”
You consider it for a second but shake your head. “I’m a bit tired. Probably just gonna go home.”
Jeno nods, “Same. I’ll probably just go back and smoke.”
You sense a shift in the atmosphere of the locker room. Something calmer – less high-tension. Jeno's next words catch you off guard.
“My coach really thinks I’m going to get scouted for the NHL,” he says, a mixture of excitement and apprehension in his voice.
“That’s amazing,” you reply, “It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
He leans forward and reaches into the locker, retrieving white gauze. Carefully, he unwraps the roll and starts to tightly wind it around his hand. You want to help him, but you didn’t know how. You were far from the medic friend – that was Jaemins job.
“I know.” He replies, “Means I gotta be on my best these next few games though.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You murmur.
He nods but doesn’t say anything, so you decide to sit next to him on the bench. When you sit down, he leans into you. His chest was burning, despite the frigid temperature, and you feel the heat seep through your jersey. Despite playing a long game, he smelled good. Like cologne and mint. A good combo.
He starts humming some random tune, and you find your eyelids drooping. You were beyond tired. Beyond emotions. Beyond words. If anything, you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. The comforting presence of being beside one of your best friends in the entire world.
Before you know it, Jeno is shaking your shoulder. “Y/n.” He murmurs. You snap your eyes open, and his face was dangerously close to yours, “You dozed off.” A smile breaks out on his face, and a heat creeps up your spine.
“S-Sorry,” you blurt, standing up a little too fast. The room starts to spin and Jeno has to grab your shoulders to keep you from falling down.
“Are you okay?” He questions, eyes piercing your own.
You rub your eyes tiredly, “Yeah, I’m just…fuck, I don’t know Jeno, I just feel off.”
Jeno's brow furrows with concern, and he pulls you into a comforting embrace. In that moment, everything you’ve tried keeping hidden away for the last hour, tumbles out, and you find yourself completely losing it, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest. He doesn't know what to do at first, his arms awkwardly encircling you as you cry. But then, with a gentleness that belies his strength, he brings your face into his hands and asks softly, “Are you okay? What's wrong?”
You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “I don’t know,” you manage between sobs. “I just... I feel lost, and I don’t know what to do.”
His thumb brushes away your tears, his touch a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. And looking up at him, you realize this is what you need. Not clingy like Haechan, not overly sweet, like Jaemin. You needed strong, steady, understanding.
You needed Jeno.
You don’t know if it’s genuine. Or if it’s the challenge. Or if you just welcomed the distraction, but words are tumbling from your lips before you know it. “Kiss me.”
He's so close. inches away, no, centimeters away. His breath, warm and enticing, mingles with the taste of mint and ice. The room contracts as he leans in. you open your mouth, he opens his.
"I can't, not like this," the words hang, lingering in the air. Tension doesn't dissipate; it transforms, a subtle shift in the locker room. "I'm not Jaemin."
“W-what?”
You may not be Jaemin, but don’t worry Jeno, you’ll get your turn.
A. NOTE. read the the note at the beginning of this post. and don't forget to reblog :)
TAGLIST. @newdeobi @jijihyunah @saintlyhyuck @mrkis @peachjaem00 @angelwonie @aliceinwhateverland @cabaretyun @allaboutthedongs @donutswithjaminthemiddle @bundleleeknow @sunshinedhyuck @kuingjuing @haechanalpha @thiccfullsun @jenoxygen @ishireads @greentealatte97 @aquamxrina @whymarkieyournameismark @marklexleaf @its-taeil-time @j4d @dearj43 @roohnyk @stargrll13 @hykwrld @leeluc @haechie @xuxisins @rainyjeno
THE PROMISCUOUS TUTOR (M) | PART ONE
SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is part three and a half of a series! read part one & two for context!
PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader
SYNOPSIS | na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.
WC | 15.3k
WARNINGS | cursing, mentions of alcohol, sexual comments, vouyerism, explicit smut, choking, hair pulling, so sorry to the jaehyun stans this chapter :(, pink-haired jaemin. mc does some hoe shit idk.
A.N | tumblr is being stupid and won't let me put it all in one part, so i'm splitting it into two. the next part will be linked on the masterlist / uploaded in a few! please send asks after you finish reading. i want to hear your thoughts!
Typically, the University dining hall is one of the loudest places on campus at any given time.
However, you’re becoming increasingly aware of how eerily silent it is at the ass crack of dawn – and how unbelievably loud Jaemin is.
It’s one thing if he was whisper-yelling about midterms coming up, but the dude was dishing some very personal details while sifting through a pan of scrambled eggs. And there was no whispering.
None.
None at all.
Jaemin wanted to make sure you heard his frustration. So, loud and proud, with his entire chest, he piles a heaping serving of eggs on his plate while conversating at the top of his lungs.
“...then we flipped positions, but she got the angle wrong and bent my dick–”
Jaemin's voice carried across the dining hall, prompting you to offer an apologetic smile to the staff member stationed at the food line. However, he just yawns tiredly and turns around to continue flipping pancakes on the griddle.
They obviously didn’t get paid enough to care about Jaemin and his dick bending episode, so you moved along behind the boy, piling up your own plate with the dining halls incredibly mid breakfast.
“. . . and I didn’t even mean to fall asleep, but we went so many rounds I just closed my eyes for two seconds, next thing I know it’s five am and I wake up to Haechan calling me –”
The mention of his name makes your head snap up. “Haechan?”
Jaemin stops at the soda machine and pours a cool glass of Gatorade into a clear plastic cup. “Yeah, he was totally freaking out, wondering why I hadn’t come home.” He chuckles before moving on to find a table. You grab a water bottle and scurry to keep up. “Like I don’t disappear for pussy all the time.”
At this early hour, you could have had your choice of seats in the café, but in typical Jaemin fashion, he zeroed in on an elevated platform encircling the main dining area. It was a nice spot – next to a cluster of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the quad and few academic buildings. But again, at this hour, especially with it being a Sunday, there wasn’t much to look at. Just a few workers maintaining the lawn and a solitary squirrel.
It wasn’t like you were going to be staring out the window much though. His words had captured any wandering attention.
"...and he asked if I had heard from you, which is why I texted.” Jaemin scoops up a hearty forkful of scrambled eggs and eagerly pops it into his mouth, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.
The jolt of surprise that courses through your veins is unmistakably reflected in your expression. "Me? Why would he be asking about me?" you blurt out, your nerves getting the best of you.
Shit.
So Haechan had woken up and noticed your absence. A pang of guilt tightens your chest and makes you cringe on the inside. What a shitty thing to do. Take his virginity and then all but bail on him.
But he was cool with it being a one-time thing, you argue with yourself.
Jaemin interrupts your internal debate through a mouthful of pineapple, “I don’t know but he seemed kinda mad. You didn’t piss him off, did you?”
To avoid an immediate answer, you shove a forkful of syrup slathered pancakes into your mouth and chew slowly. When you swallow, it feels like a lump is stuck in your throat. But maybe that was just your guilty conscience trying to choke the life out of you.
“I don’t think I did anything.” You shrug, the words sounding less convincing than you’d hoped. A thought pops into your head, diverting the conversation momentarily, “Wait. You went home to shower, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
You lean in a bit, your tone hushed, “So… did you see him?”
Jaemin cards a hand through his faded pink hair and shakes his head, “I mean yeah, but he just said good morning and shut his door. I invited him to breakfast, but I don’t think he heard me.”
As his words sink in, a mix of relief and concern mingles within you. The last thing you needed was Haechan tagging along to a morning-after-breakfast. That would have made things mega awkward.
The boy you had just fucked and the boy you were wanting to fuck. Add in the fact that they had no idea you were even completing this stupid drunk-induced challenge…
Oh yeah, the challenge. Why the hell did it keep skipping your mind? Like it wasn’t the very thing that got you in this position.
Just the thought of it… well, it made your mind wander (as if it hadn’t been wandering this entire time). And somehow it landed on just how good Jaemin looked this morning.
He obviously had the after-sex glow - his skin was looking smooth and radiant, eyes bright, and lips a subtle shade of darker pink. The thought of why they were puffy made your thighs quiver - and underneath the dining table, you have to squeeze them together just to breathe properly again.
Was it from Yeji biting them last night? Passionate kisses turning into something much more aggressive? Could it be from him pushing open her thighs and coaxing her through ecstasy with just his tongue?
The vulgar thoughts circle your brain while you take in the rest of his sleepy, early morning outfit. A bright red hoodie hangs off his shoulders, covering any sort of muscle definition your eyes were itching to see. Not that it truly mattered – your memory was still pretty vivid from the party two nights ago. However, that night, your focus had been solely on Hyuck, which now seemed like an unfortunate missed opportunity.
Especially when he gets up to dump his plate in the dirty dish bin, and your eyes follow his tight cargo pants. What exactly was hiding beneath the black fabric?
Technically, you already knew thanks to the video he shared the night all this challenge stuff was created.
But a little reminder couldn’t hurt.
Jaemin returns to the table with a fresh glass of blue Gatorade, and when he sits down, his eyes wash over your body like he was mirroring what you were just doing. Did he catch you? Is that why he did that?
He doesn’t give any hints. Just raises an eyebrow playfully, the rim of his cup poised between his lips. "I know you were avoiding the question, but why are you up this early?" he teases, his voice a blend of curiosity and amusement.
A chuckle escapes your lips as you spear a piece of fruit with your fork. It was good to think quick in these situations, but the answer that comes out of your mouth might have been the stupidest thing you’d ever said, "I was planning to go on a run."
You don’t run. Especially not on a Sunday morning.
His lips curl into a mischievous smile, his gaze dancing with a hint of skepticism. "But your hair is wet."
Glancing down at your slightly damp hair, you feel a blush tint your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized. After your dizzying thoughts of Jaemin in the shower, you had been so excited to meet him for breakfast that you forgot to blow dry your hair, "Yeah, I showered."
Jaemin leans forward, his expression mockingly serious. "Before the run?"
Your laughter bubbles forth, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. "Well, you wanted to grab breakfast, so I thought I’d take a quick shower.”
A grin tugs at Jaemin's lips, his intrigue growing. "But you're a night showerer."
With a playful roll of your eyes, you respond, "Is this a full-scale investigation now? Am I on trial?"
Jaemin breaks into hearty laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just trying to solve the mysteries of the morning, you know."
Relief stretched through your body like an adrenaline chaser. “Well, I hate to disappoint Mr. Detective, but there’s no mystery here. I just got up early and was gonna hit the gym, but you texted me first.” You put the fruit back onto your plate, too worked up to take a bite, “Next time, I’ll ignore your text.”
“Hey!” he frowns.
“Kidding.” You remark, “But I think I’ll skip the gym instead and take a nap. I’m not used to waking up this early…”
“Just make sure you’re at the library by one. Would hate to miss your free tutoring session.” He pushes back from the table, and you do the same, gathering all your half-eaten dishes from the world’s fastest breakfast date.
“Do you want me to pay you? I have no problems giving you cash.”
“Nah, I like helping out a friend.” He bumps your elbow as you walk down the ramp to the main dining floor. The surge of electricity that snaps through your body takes you by surprise. Maybe this breakfast was a little higher tension than you were aware of.
You drop all your dishes into the dirty dish bin and walk side by side with Jaemin out on the quad. There was still no one in sight, even as the sun started to bloom full light over the bright green shrubbery.
“Don’t say I never offered to pay.” You giggle.
“Nah, don’t worry. If I wanted something in return, it wouldn’t be money.” He just stares at you, a deadpan look with no emotion.
You, on the other hand, have many emotions crossing your face – shock, disbelief, curiosity, intrigue.
“I’m kidding.” He snorts.
You stumble over your words, “Y-Yeah, duh.”
“Alright, I’ll catch you at one. Don’t be late!” He reminds, walking backwards as he wiggles a warning finger at you. He spins around, almost tripping over a loose brick on the pathway in the process.
As he retreats into the backdrop of trees, headed back to the boy's dormitory on the far side of campus, you find yourself wishing to follow. Maybe you could catch some sleep in his bed, enveloped by the sweet smell of Jaemin (that being hair dye and Dior Savauge).
Instead, you begrudgingly drag your feet in the opposite direction. Back to your lonely dorm where you would fall asleep in an empty bed that smelled like nothing but yourself.
“We’ve wanted this for a while.”
Haechan looks up at you from between your legs and licks his puffy lips. His finger draws lazy circles around your clit, and it feels wonderful.
You could watch him like this forever, but what drags your attention away is the second set of lips attaching to your neck. Nothing had warned you of his presence before, but now you were on full alert. He sucks bruises against your skin, hands running up and down your body until you were left shaking into his touch.
“Jaemin?”
The pink haired boy draws back and sits on his heels, a goofy grin spread out.
“Yes princess?”
Your head is on a swivel now. From Haechan’s chocolate brown eyes and mischievous smirk to the way Jaemin was eyeing your exposed chest.
“You okay sweetheart?” Jaemin takes a singular finger and tips your chin upwards, “How about you just lay back and let us take care of you.”
Haechan speaks up, “Tell us which one makes you cum harder, okay?” Two fingers pinch your clit, making you jerk against Jaemin, “Like a bet.”
Like a bet.
Like a bet.
In the hazy realm between dreams and reality, your eyes flutter open, greeted by the harsh reality of full sunlight streaming through the curtains. Panic instantly surges through you as you glance at the clock – it's later than it should be. With a sudden jolt, you sit up, your mind racing to comprehend.
The realization hits like a tidal wave: you're late for your tutoring session with Jaemin. You fumble with the sheets, untangling yourself in a hurry, and your heart pounds with each passing second. Your phone, lying neglected on the nightstand, taunts you with its unmissed alarms.
“Oh fuck.”
The room spins with the remnants of the vivid dream. Jaemin and Haechan... at the same time. Jaemin’s arms around you, Haechan between your thighs. The wetness there now seems unavoidable, but there was no time.
Your phone lights up with another text from Jaemin. Grabbing it, you hastily read through.
(1:01 PM) Manwhore: yo, you on ur way?
(1:04 PM) Manwhore: helloooo?
(1:07 PM) Manwhore: don’t tell me you forgot
(1:08 PM) Manwhore: if you don’t text me back or get here in the next five minutes, I’m literally going to fuck your roommate again.
Wish you would fuck me as a punishment, you think, but type out a different response.
(1:09 PM) Y/N: you’d fuck her anyway.
(1:09 PM) Y/N: I overslept. Be there in five.
Another glance over your messages and you realize the same roommate he was threatening to fuck has also been bombarding you with a flurry of messages.
(10:01 AM) Roomie!!: I feel like I never see you
(10:52 AM) Roomie!!: I wanted to wake you up but you weren’t here literally all night…
(11:09 AM) Roomie!!: I left you a muffin on the counter <3
(12:36 PM) Roomie!!: Can we please talk tonight? Or hangout? Or go to the movies? Literally anything??? I miss you!
You shoot her a quick message, saying sorry and promising to catch up with her tonight. Man, you've really missed her. There's this itch to spill everything, spill the beans about the stupid bet, but at the same time, you're not sure if you should. It's like walking on eggshells, ya know?
One thing was apparent though. She could never know about these filthy dreams. How desperate you were to be underneath your best friends…that was a secret you must keep.
Speaking of best friends, you had one waiting impatiently at the library for you to hurry the fuck up. No matter if you were just dreaming about him sucking on your neck.
You snatch the nearest clothes and quickly slide on your shoes in a rush. Carelessly, you throw textbooks into your backpack. Grabbing the muffin Jennie left for you on the counter, you swing your backpack over your shoulder and scramble out the door.
“Stupid fucking stairs” you mutter underneath your breath, hurtling down all five flights in a rush.
“What did the stairs ever do to you.” The voice startles you, nearly causing you to trip.
“What the hell, Haechan.” Great, the other half of your dream has just materialized. “What are you doing in the girls dorm.”
He grins, keeping pace with you down the flights. “Visiting a lady friend.”
“Truth. Now.”
He sighs, “Group project.”
“Sounds about right.” You reach the bottom of the staircase and push open the door that spills out onto the quad.
The fleeting thought of sprinting away crosses your mind, but you dismiss it. Instead, you glance over your shoulder, watching him struggle with his backpack straps. His hair is a fluffy brown mess, wind tousling it. A faded graphic design t-shirt hangs off his collarbones, with matching sweatpants that seem two sizes too big.
He's such a loser, you think affectionately.
“So…” He muses, catching up to you and bumping your arm with his elbow, “Why’d you dip this morning?” There’s a tinge of hurt in the question but you choose to ignore it.
You shrug, “Met up with Jaemin for breakfast…you were sleeping so I didn’t want to bother you.”
The campus has come alive since your last outing. Students lounge on the quad, soaking in the dwindling sunlight before fall strips away the warmth. You wish you could join them and forget about your trivial problems.
"Weird. Because he invited me too," he keeps his head down, focusing on his worn-out sneakers navigating the uneven brick paving the campus.
“He told me.” You don’t know what Haechan was getting at. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have dipped, but…what else were you supposed to do?
“Surprised your legs are working.”
“Haechan.” You shriek, slapping his shoulder. Where the hell did that come from.
He laughs loudly, “I’m just saying. Maybe that’s why you were so mad at the stairs. Hurt a bit?” Yeah, he was feeling cocky. Confident. Cause here was this beautiful girl next to him, who just so happened to be his best friend, and who also sat on his cock last night. He felt on top of the world.
“I’m fine.” You seethe, “And just so we’re clear, we aren’t telling anyone about this.”
Bummer. He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I know. You want to keep the best sex of your life a secret. No sweat.”
“I swear to god Haechan –”
“Oh, calm down princess. I’m not gonna tell anyone. Our little secret.” He winks at you and a hot blush spreads over your cheeks.
Fuck him and fuck his stupid pet names.
“Round two?” He braces for the swat that comes his way, another laugh slipping past his lips, “Okay, okay. I’ll stop joking around.”
You want to feel annoyed, but you're just glad to have your best friend back—the one who makes inappropriate jokes at your expense. Maybe that's greedy of you, expecting everything to go back to normal after taking his virginity.
But it’s what he wanted…. So get over it Y/N, you think.
Round two didn’t sound so bad though…especially after that stupid fucking dream you just had.
“Where you headed?” he asks, pulling on the straps of his backpack.
“Library. Jaemin’s tutoring me. And I’m late.” You reply. He was really gonna kick your ass if you didn’t hurry up.
“How great. I’m on my way there too. Gotta finish this stupid presentation.”
You glance at him, catching his face scrunch up.
“Got something else you want to say?” you question. It looked like he was physically in pain. Yet, knowing him, he was just holding himself back from saying something inappropriate.
“Promise not to hit me.”
You raise your eyebrows.
“Well…I was just gonna say, if you want help relaxing after the draining tutoring session you’re about to have…”
Bingo. You knew him soooo well.
“You’re impossible Haechan.”
“One of my redeeming qualities I must say.”
The library comes into view. Fucking finally. It felt like ages since you left your dorm.
You decide to snark back at him. “You know…on second thought.” It almost makes you feel bad the way his eyes spark up, “I would but, I got plans…”
His response is firm and unwavering. "Cancel them."
Locking eyes with him proves to be a mistake as you realize he's dead serious. "Can't, sorry," you pout.
He strides ahead, swinging open the library door with a grand gesture. You roll your eyes, heading straight for the back wall where the individual study rooms are located.
"Y/n," he whispers, silently urging you to reconsider. "Think about it."
Ignoring him, your attention is diverted when you spot Jaemin, who also catches sight of you through the glass separating the main floor from the study rooms. He rolls his eyes and taps his wrist as a mock reminder of your tardiness.
"Y/n," Haechan whines, a plea echoing the same tone as the night before.
Choosing to play with him once more, you tease, "Sorry, Haechannie. Plans, remember?" Leaning in, you cup his ear and blow a cool breath, feeling him shiver. "But you can think about me when you jerk off later."
He watches in shock as you saunter away, pushing open the study room door to apologize profusely to Jaemin. The bulge in Haechan's pants goes unnoticed until he tears his eyes away. "God damn."
Na Jaemin is disgustingly attractive.
And so, so distracting.
How were you supposed to study binomial distributions when he sat on the opposite side of the table looking like that.
The red hoodie he had on this morning has been discarded, replaced by a t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves that showcased his toned biceps. As he shifted around the scattered textbooks, his tongue peeked out between his lips in concentration.
Jaemin’s presence plus the constant remembrance of the dream only amplified your struggle to stay focused.
Instead, your (lovely) brain decided to entertain you with intense fantasies of clawing at his biceps while you rode him. You’re sure he’s a groaner. It’s almost visual in your head, the way he’d tip his head back and growl at the feeling of you splitting yourself on his cock. You know he talks you through it too.
“Got any guesses on the size?”
"W-What?" You stammer, a twinge of anxiety hitting you, concerned you might have been caught daydreaming.
Jaemin cards a hand through his hair and smirks, “The sample size, y/n? Have you not been paying attention for the last twenty minutes?? We’re trying to solve for the sample size.” He blows air through his teeth in annoyance, “I swear it feels like I’m just doing your homework for you sometimes.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” You mutter, “How about I do the next five by myself and have you check over them after?”
"Sounds good. Don't hesitate to ask if you have any questions," he responds casually, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning his attention back to his own work.
It annoyed you how smart he was too. And he rarely got distracted when he was studying. It’s like he gets automatically switched to hyperfocus mode. Nothing breaks his concentration. It’s such a weird version of Jaemin, but one that you’ve grown accustomed too during the study sessions. Any other time of day and he’s chatting up girls and doing stupid dares that normally got him in trouble with the campus police. It’s happened too many times to count.
The gods favor him, you think, beauty and brains.
Your gaze inadvertently shifts to the main floor of the library. Through the transparent walls, you see Haechan sitting at his own table. He looked bored, his lips set in a pout and a crease drawn between his eyebrows. Bored and frustrated. But he also looked good as hell.
He pushes his hips up to get comfortable in the hard plastic chair he was in, and the grey sweatpants do nothing to hide the painfully obvious outline of his cock. Arousal bells start going off in your head, and you think you might just faint out of pure horniness.
You watch him pick up his phone.
A buzz sounds on the table, coming from your own phone.
(1:51 PM) Weird guy from the street: stop staring at me
There’s literally no way he could have known you were looking at him unless he had been sneaking glances at you too. The thought makes you blush.
(1:51 PM) Y/N: not staring at u weirdo
(1:52 PM) Y/N: simply looking through the window
(1:52 PM) Y/N: not my fault ur big ass head is blocking the view
You peak at him, and this time he’s looking dead at you with a big frown on his face.
(1:52 PM) Weird guy from the street: okay ouch
(1:53 PM) Weird guy from the street: but ur eyes r literally burning holes in me
(1:53 PM) Weird guy from the street: if you wanna fuck so bad, just meet me upstairs :)
A snort sounds at the back of your throat, catching Jaemin's attention as he glances up from his textbook.
"Just searching for the equation I need," you confess sheepishly, raising your phone in explanation.
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, so you go back to texting.
(1:54 PM) Y/N: u wish loser
From the other side of the glass, you watch him throw you a middle finger.
(1:54 PM) Weird guy from the street: okay but seriously meet me upstairs
(1:54 PM) Weird guy from the street: it’s SERIOUS!!!
(1:55 PM) Weird guy from the street: i promise
(1:55 PM) Weird guy from the street: swear on jeno’s hockey career
(1:55 PM) Weird guy from the street: don’t tell him i swore on that or he’ll kick my ass again
(1:55 PM) Weird guy from the street: just meet in the geology section.. never seen anybody up there
You send a final text
(1:56 PM) Y/N: fine, but if this is a trick, i’m kicking your ass.
Your chair emits a loud scraping sound as you push it back to stand up. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom before my brain explodes. Be right back.” You explain, and Jaemin nods.
The echo of your footsteps resonates through the quiet library as you navigate your way to the geology section. The fluorescent lights above flicker intermittently, casting occasional shadows that dance along the bookshelves. You can't help but wonder why Haechan chose such a weird ass place to meet.
Decorative rocks are showcased throughout this section of the library, and in the back of your mind you wonder who in their right mind would study geology. Rocks?
“Took you long enough.” Haechan teases, emerging from the shadows between two bookshelves. You squint at him, your eyes still adjusting to the unexpected appearance.
"Why do you have to be so extra?" you quip, recovering from the surprise. It's the second time today he's managed to catch you off guard.
"Extra is my middle name, darling," he grins, leaning casually against the shelves. You secretly wish they would give in and collapse just for the sake of a good laugh.
"Cut the dramatics, Haechan. Why am I here?" you demand, crossing your arms.
"I want to know what you’re doing with Jaemin," he deadpans, peering up through his long lashes. "Because for the past thirty minutes or so, you've been practically drooling over him." He checks his wrist adorned with a silver watch you gifted him last Christmas, "And I've been keeping track, by the way. Don't bother denying it; I've got eyes everywhere."
You roll your eyes, annoyance creeping in. "That's bordering on stalker behavior, you know."
He casually shrugs, unfazed. "Answer the question."
"I'm studying with Jaemin. What else would I be doing?" you retort, finding the situation utterly ridiculous.
"Sure, you're not one of his study buddies?" Haechan drawls, dragging out the second-to-last word and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You resist the urge to roll your eyes again, realizing you've walked right into his stupid trap.
You glare pointedly. “Just because you caught me looking at another man that isn’t you doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”
“Oh sweetheart, I didn’t say anything about fucking him.” Haechan replies with a sly grin.
“You implied it!” You huff, jabbing him in the chest with a manicured finger.
He clutches the spot and winces at pain. “Damn your nails are sharp.”
“Why am I really up here.” You were becoming impatient. Perhaps you should have known that Haechan would waste your time. There was nothing of importance for you between these stupid, dusty, rock filled shelved.
A part of you did know it, though. And that part was practically begging Haechan to shove you against the shelves and start fucking your brains out.
You squash that part down. Deep down.
Haechan sighs and takes a tentative step backwards, “Honestly, I was bored and just wanted to mess with you.” You open your mouth to chastise him, but he cuts you off before you can, “But now that we’re on the topic of fucking Jaemin –”
“Don’t think we’re on the same topic here.” You interject.
He keeps going without missing a beat, “I just thought you should know about his....habits” His face beams in pride, as if this super-secret tidbit of information could solve world hunger.
"His habits?"
Haechan takes a step towards you, "Yeah...his dirty, filthy habits."
"What are you getting at Haechan?"
The boy in front of you, eyes you up and down before speaking slowly, "You're telling me you don't know?"
You narrow your eyes at Haechan, feeling a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Know what exactly? Stop beating around the bush and just spit it out."
Haechan smirks, relishing the moment. "I just thought you should know that he fucks girls here after hours."
“In the geology section?” You question, skepticism etching your features.
“In the library dumbass.” Haechan retorts, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes lock onto yours, daring you to challenge him.
“Yeah right.”
He stomps his foot in a childlike manner. “I’m serious.”
Your disbelief lingers. "I don't believe you. It's literally patrolled by security after hours," you assert, your arms crossing defensively over your chest.
Haechan rolls his eyes, seemingly accustomed to your skepticism. "Y/n, me and Jeno used to think Jaemin was rocking your shit back when he started tutoring you."
A wry smile creeps onto your face. "How lovely."
“I mean, now we know you just need help with stats –”
“It’s a hard subject.” You defend yourself.
Sure, you’d never been good at math like others, but statistics was a hard class. And your professor made it even more boring with her monotoned voice.
“I know, cheated my way through an A.” Haechan admits, flashing a beaming smile. “Anyways, he has an entire roster of girls he brings to the library after hours. Honestly, you’re the only girl I’ve seen him actually tutor.” The soft glow of the library lights casts a warm hue on the leather-bound volumes that surround you and you notice it illuminates the curve of Haechan’s jaw too.
“Haechan, I swear if this is a prank or a set up.”
He gives another stomp to the worn-out carpet, "Why would I be lying about this?" he insists, his expression genuinely serious. "You know what, meet me here Friday night at nine thirty."
“The library closes at eight.”
“Back entrance is always open.” He winks at you, and you playfully swat his arm. “Gonna prove that I’m not lying.”
“Whatever.”
You find yourself baffled by Haechan's sudden revelation about Jaemin's supposed "dirty habits." There's a lingering question in your mind – why is Haechan even sharing this information with you in the first place? As the absurdity of the situation sinks in, you can't help but wonder what prompted him to bring you to this secluded spot just to share peculiar details about Jaemin's life.
Is he threatened by your sudden interest - if he really was catching on to the fact that you were after Jaemin.
A few beats pass before he’s nudging your shoulder. “So?” He jostles your arm with his own until you swat at him again, “You’ll meet me here?”
“Sure, Haechan.” In truth, you had nothing better to do. And maybe you could use this to your advantage. The next part of this stupid challenge was to fuck Jaemin anyways, and what better way than to use his rendezvous spot to do so.
If Haechan was telling the truth.
“We should make out.”
You slide your eyes to his and cock your head, “In your dreams Hyuckie.”
The day was winding down, and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the university campus. You trudged back to your dorm, feeling the exhaustion from a day filled with studying and more homework than you could manage.
Echoes of distant laughter and the occasional sound of a slamming door fill the hallways as you climbed the stairs to your floor, anticipation building to catch up with your roommate, Jennie.
You didn’t mean to completely ghost her the last couple weeks, but between classes and the challenge…well, you had your mind full.
The door is swinging open before you can get your key in the lock, and you’re met face to face with her.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up! I swear I never see you anymore. You leave before I’m up and come home after I’m asleep!"
Apologizing, you step inside and close the door behind you, embracing your roommate. "I know, I know. It's been crazy lately," you admit, setting your bag down and following her to the living room.
Jennie raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me." she teased.
"Never.” It’s true. Jennie was the one person in the world who you could relax around. “So, what’s been up with you.”
She sighed dramatically, as if she'd been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and plops down on the couch. You do the same. “Sorority stuff, you know how it is. Rush week is killing me. Drama, drama, drama. Oh, and did I mention Jaehyun broke up with his girlfriend? The whole campus is losing its mind over him, including maybe me," she added with a sly grin.
Your eyes widen at the news. "Jaehyun broke up with his girlfriend? That's big news! Why did they break up?" you inquired, curious about someone else’s drama.
Maybe it could distract you from your own.
Jennie leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "No one knows for sure, but there are rumors. Apparently, she cheated on him.”
“Why on earth would she cheat on him?”
She giggles, “That’s what I’m saying! He’s like the hottest guy on campus. She’s definitely mental if she cheated on him. If he was mine…”
“Make him yours.”
“Y/N!” she giggles and playfully shoves your arm.
You break out in a smile too, “Well, if he is single, now’s your chance!”
Jennie shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Who knows?” She tugs a blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around her thin body, “Anyways, enough about me. What’s been keeping you so busy? You haven't even had time for Mark. He's been asking about you by the way."
You sighed, feeling guilty for neglecting your friends. "Classes have been crazy, and Jaemin and I have been hitting the books together. Speaking of which, he's been a lifesaver. I wouldn't survive this semester without him."
Jennie smirked playfully. "Oh, Jaemin, huh? Is there something I should know?"
You rolled your eyes, swatting her arm this time. "No, nothing like that. He's just a great study partner."
She raised an eyebrow, a knowing expression on her face. "Sure, just a study partner?”
It funny how fast you break into a cold sweat.
“W-What do you mean?”
“I mean..” She drags the words out and for a second you think she’s gonna accuse you of sleeping with him. Or at least accuse you of having the hots for him. “I’ve studied with him. So, I know that studying doesn’t always mean studying.”
“Oh my god. You think I’m fucking him?”
I haven’t yet, you think.
“I’m just asking!”
“No, I promise he’s just helping me with stats homework.” You hold up two fingers, “Scouts honor.”
She rolls her eyes, “Look, I wouldn't blame you if you were sleeping with him. Been there done that.”
You wonder if she’s one of the girls Haechan seemed so sure Jaemin fucked in the library after hours. It’s not like you would ever ask her. But your mind wanders nonetheless.
“Trust me, I’m not.”
“Maybe you should.” She suggests in thought, “I mean he definitely knows his way around a girls body.”
You cover your eyes in embarrassment, “Oh my god, gross!”
She holds up her hands like she’d been caught, “I think you need to let loose. Just giving you a recommendation.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Speaking of letting loose, I have a sorority event this Friday, and I want you to come. It's a big reveal for my little, and I want you there."
You hesitate. "I appreciate the invite, but I'm actually hanging out with Haechan that night."
There’s a part of you that wants to add the fact that you’re really just trying to catch Jaemin in the act of fucking in the library. But with the way the conversation just went…maybe that was best kept to yourself.
Jennie's expression shifted from excitement to a subtle disappointment. "Come on! I never see you anymore. Can't you ditch Haechan for one night? It'll be a blast, and you'll get to meet some great people. Plus, you need a break from that annoying prick."
You forget that Jennie doesn’t like Haechan, recalling drunken nights where she spent hours cursing him out for embarrassing her during her own rush experience. Apparently, he was her date and got too drunk which ended in him throwing up all over her dress. It’s a miracle she got a bid for the house she wanted.
Feeling a bit guilty, you sighed. "Alright, fine. I'll come. But only because you're my best friend, and I miss spending time with you."
Jennie's face lit up, and she practically squealed in delight. "Yes! It's going to be so much fun. You won't regret it."
The night stretched on with the two of you quickly settling into the cozy routine of a girls’ night in. You ordered some delicious takeout, stocked up on snacks, and found yourselves comfortably sprawled on the couch with episodes of Love Island playing on the tv. Fairy lights twinkled over your entangled figures as you both became engrossed in the latest romantic drama on the screen.
It was a nice reprieve from the boys you’d been constantly drowning around.
But watching the couple on screen makes your mind drift to thoughts of Jaemin. His body caging you against the wall of a study room, eventually laying you back on the table scattered with textbooks and eating you out. His pink hair caught between your fingers…
The thoughts worm their way into your dreams when you and Jennie eventually drift off to sleep, curled on the couch, not wanting the night to end.
Aside from the frat parties, drunken nights, and time well spent with friends, college was actually very fucking boring.
The week breezes by with boring lectures, hastily eaten lunches, and so much damn homework that you genuinely begin to think you’re drowning. You almost turn in a quiz too late on Monday and decide from then on that you’d lock yourself away till your schedule looked a little less hectic.
And that led to a very boring and very sleepy Friday.
The lecture hall was dimly lit, and the professor's monotone voice droned on about the intricacies of music theory. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, staring blankly at the notes you'd given up on comprehending. The only thing getting you through this intolerable day was the weekend ahead (Even though you had to meet Mark on Saturday for a stupid group project), and the coffee you had gotten with Jennie that morning.
She made sure to dutifully remind you of her sorority event that night, which in turn reminded you of your library date with Hyuck.
Like you could forget.
After that, and your morning stats class (where you promptly took a little nap despite your determination to genuinely understand the subject), you met up with Jeno for lunch. It wasn’t so bad, until Jaehyun crashed at the table and stole Jeno’s attention to talk about hockey plays for their game on Sunday.
Awkwardly trying to avoid him and the rumors that were spreading on campus (and because you had no idea what a bar down or hat-trick was), you promptly left and got to your music theory lecture early.
Which at this moment felt like a place where pretty things came to die.
You couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh. The boredom was reaching unbearable levels, and you questioned your life choices that led you to enroll in this class. It’s not like you needed it to graduate. The spot was simply open, and you needed another class.
Just as you were contemplating an escape plan, the door swung open with a loud bang.
Mark rushed in, disheveled and panting. Everyone turned to stare at him, including you. He apologized to the professor, who simply gestured for him to take a seat. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight.
Mark Lee was…a character. You met him through Hyuck, who introduced him as the love of his life. Mark had grinned awkwardly and shuffled away from Haechan’s body after that comment, instead choosing to question you about your major and interests. It was then that you both became friends too. Albeit, casual friends. (Except for the one time freshman year that you had hooked up in the science building bathroom)
He was there to gossip with, grab lunch, and aid you through music theory (which you didn’t know a damn thing about). He was exceptionally talented and hardworking, show cased through his double major in theology and music theory. A weird combination, but after getting to know his religious background and affinity for guitar playing, you thought it was perfectly spot on for him.
Like Jaemin, he dyed his hair bright ass colors whenever he was on the verge of a breakdown. This weeks’ color was black with silver sideburns. Somehow, he pulls it off quite well.
"What's up?" you whispered to Mark as he settled into the chair beside you.
He looked worn out. It was barely one pm, but the ruffled hair, wrinkled clothes, and half on-half off jacket, makes him look like he’d been hit by a tornado on his way to class.
His mouth is set in a flat line when he glances over at you, “Hyuck, is what’s up.”
“Hyuck?”
The professor sends a pointed glare at the two of you, and mark smiles sheepishly before leaning in to tell you the rest, his voice hushed, “Yeah. Went over to his dorm to grab my notebook that I left last night, and the dumbass was wasted.”
“Like, drunk?” you question, because as you recall, it was barely one pm.
“Drunk as fuck.” Mark deadpans.
Your eyebrows shoot up, “It’s the middle of the day?”
“Yeah, I told him that many, many times.” Mark digs around his backpack, trying to find a pencil to catch up on the lecture he missed, “All he kept doing was stumbling around, asking for cheesecake–”
When you open your mouth to question it, Mark cuts you off.
“I don’t really know why.” When he finds the pencil at the bottom of his bag, he snorts in triumph and continues, “So he kept asking for cheesecake, started bawling when I told him there was none, and finally, when I wrestled him into his bed, he started telling me about you.”
Your body freezes impossibly fast, gaze nervously darting around the room. Maybe if you didn’t look Mark in the eyes, then you could forget what he said and pretend that the words never left his mouth.
No, of course not. Time to bite the bullet.
“Me?” You squeak.
“He told me a lot about you actually.” The way Mark is looking, his arms crossed and an expression that can only be described as accusatory, can mean only one thing.
“He told you about…”
You want to leave the lecture hall and punch Lee Donghyuck yourself when mark responds.
“Yep.”
“Fuck.” You should have known Hyuck couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “What did he say.”
It was Marks turn to glance around the room, just in case anyone was listening in. When all is clear, his voice drops even lower, “He said you guys fucked after Jaehyuns party. And that it was the best sex of his life – well, the only sex of his life. Was he telling the truth?”
Now’s your chance to lie and set the record straight that you never slept with Haechan. Though, with Mark’s tone, you already knew that he knew the right answer.
“Yeah…We did, but it was just a convenience thing. He happened to be at the right place, at the right time. It was nothing more than that.”
Oh, how you wished those words were true.
It would severely less-complicate things.
Mark chuckles nervously, “I’d avoid him if I were you. Because dude, it was so much more than that to him.”
Your biggest fear is confirmed with his words. How dumb could you be to think that taking his virginity wouldn’t lead to him having some weird clingy attitude towards you. You should have known better.
“I can’t avoid him. I have to meet with him tonight.” You hiss.
Mark shrugs, “I don’t know if he’ll even be awake, dude passed out hard. I mean, I set his alarms, so who knows.”
“Maybe…”
“Anyways, dude – OW!”
A flying drumstick clips Mark in the head, and he hurriedly rubs the spot, wincing. The professor, arms crossed, looks at the both of you in displeasure.
Bursting into a fit of giggles, you realize that this day was definitely not going to be boring anymore.
As you sit in your cozy apartment engrossed in a book, your phone buzzes, pulling you out of the fictional world. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Hyuck.
(8:52 PM) Weird guy from the street: can you come open the door
(8:52 PM) Weird guy from the street: my key isn’t working for some reason
Your eyebrows furrow as you read the message "Key? Hyuck has a key?" You mutter to yourself. You've always assumed that when he showed up randomly at your apartment, it was because Jennie, your roommate, had let him in.
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you head to the door. As you swing it open, there stands Hyuck.
"Hey," he greets, a indefinable glint in his eyes. "Can I come in?"
You step aside, allowing him entry, "When did you get a key?”
He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I don't have a key. That's the thing."
You cross your arms and pop an eyebrow, "You literally just texted me saying your key isn’t working."
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Hyuck…” You grumble, “How is it that you randomly show up in the apartment then?”
He smirked, teasingly. "Magic. Or maybe Jennie's magic. I just show up, and the door opens. But seriously, I don't have a key."
You decide to drop the matter. It really wasn’t worth the headache of going back and forth with him. Besides, you really should have caught on sooner. Jennie didn’t like him, yet he was always here to pester you.
“Right…. Are you still drunk?”
“That, I am not.” He walks further into the apartment and starts messing with the stack of papers on the counter – shuffling them. “Mark made sure to leave me the usual hangover cure on my nightstand, so I don’t feel sick either.”
“You know, it’s not really proper to get drunk in the middle of the school day.” You chastise him. There’s not really a reason as to why you’re lecturing him. Can’t a friend just be worried about her other very problematic friend?
His counter comes quick, “I never claimed to be proper. If you took a walk inside my brain, you’d understand.” When you meet his gaze, he gives you a teasing wink. “Now are we ready to go see some girl get her back blown out.”
“Not the words I would use.” You mutter, grabbing your keys and phone off the coffee table in the living room and following Hyuck to the library for the second time that week.
Surprising to you, he keeps the banter to a minimum during the entire five-minute walk. Only once does he comment on your outfit, even though it was a totally normal outfit. Yet according to him you were wearing a ‘too-short cheerleading skirt that showed your ass way too much.’
Besides the one little quip, he kept his mouth shut.
What was even more surprising (as if anything could top Haechan shutting up), was that the library was way too easy to break in to.
Well, does it count as breaking in if it was left unlocked?
According to Hyuck, no. To authorities, probably.
Navigating back to the geology section was easy. All you had to do was take the staircase in the back. Honestly though, it was a bit creepy. The empty library creaked and echoed at the slightest touch. Hyucks heavy steps on the stairs made you jump which made him break his silence and tease you for the rest of the way up.
You didn’t realize this before, but the geology section perfectly overlooked the main floor of the library. Provided, there was a bookshelf blocking the ledge, which added another layer of privacy.
Hm…Hyuck wasn’t a liar.
Na Jaemin was in fact in the library, with a girl at his side, studying, after hours.
Yet, that’s all they were doing – studying. The girl furiously scribbled in her notebook while Jaemin watched. He points out what you assume to be a mistake and the girl giggles, flipping over her pencil to scrub the paper with the eraser.
There’s no denying that they sat closer than normal. She leaned into Jaemins shoulder, and his hand was under the table – probably resting on her thigh. But nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be occurring.
You go to turn around and confront Hyuck. Maybe tell him to shove a rock up his ass. But the front of his body hits your back, caging you against the bookshelf.
“Hyuck…” you warn, voice low.
“Just watch.” He murmurs, arms encircling your waist to pull you closer.
Marks words lick up your spine like a fire, singing every nerve in your body.
It meant so much more to him.
Haechan's exhalations reach you in delicate, soft wafts, caressing the back of your neck and eliciting a tingling sensation as the hairs on your skin stand on end. "See." he murmurs. A shiver runs through you as he traces his fingers along your arms, whispering, "I don't want to say I told you so, but..." he clicks his tongue, nosing your shoulder, "I told you so."
Your gaze remains fixed as Jaemin playfully pulls the girl onto his lap, their textbooks now abandoned and ignored. As she molds herself against him, the hem of her shirt lifts, and Jaemin's fingers instinctively find the revealed skin, tracing intricate patterns. At some point, his hand slips entirely under her t-shirt and drags higher and higher. You can hear his quiet murmurs, between kisses - compliments of her body, her lips, her taste.
It's selfish to think, but Jaemin should be saying those words to you. And maybe that makes you a little on edge – a little pissed off.
"They're only making out," you argue back, voice quiet, "This doesn't prove shit. Even I've done this."
You feel Haechan jolt back in surprise, unanswered questions flooding the tip of his tongue. With who? he wants to ask, but he doesn't. If anything, the questions fuel his eagerness to prove you wrong. He knows Jaemin. For fucks sake, they've been roommates since freshman year.
There's a bite to his tone when he speaks up again, "Just watch."
So, you do.
You watch as Jaemin loses himself in this girl completely, all the while wishing it was you. But no, instead, you're stuck peering through bookshelves, while Haechan presses himself into you from behind at the same time Jaemin pushes his hips up.
"Is this turning you on?" you hiss, head whipping sideways to look at him.
His head dips down to nip at your earlobe, “So?”
“You’re such a pervert.”
“And you aren’t?”
Fair point.
Though, your sexual tendencies were far from voyeuristic, you can’t help but enjoy the scene in front of you – the secret thrill of watching Na Jaemin.
Haechan’s hands slip under the hem of your shirt, mirroring Jaemin. “Want me to stop?” he mumbles.
The argument that breaks out in your head doesn’t hold a candle to the way your body reacts, because maybe, just maybe, letting Haechan fuck you between the shelves of the library isn’t such a bad idea. However, spying on Jaemin, and wishing it was him instead, might be.
But Haechan doesn’t have to know.
And after all, what he doesn’t know can’t kill him.
You shake your head no, sensing his grin against the side of your neck, “I figured as much.”
Jaemins low groan carries across the empty library, and the mere sound leaves goosebumps crawling up your spine.
So, he is a groaner.
You knew it.
Haechans voice replaces the sound, “How about you spread your legs like a good girl and let me take care of you?”
“Right here?” You hiss.
“Is that okay?” He cranes his head over your shoulder so that you could just barely make eye contact, and suddenly you’re transported back to that first night with Haechan. The innocence in his gaze, the longing, the willingness to please you. He just wants to show you that he can take care of you – more than anyone ever could.
Won’t you let him?
Silently, you nod your head – and Haechan wastes no time.
As his fingertips glide along your arms, tiny goosebumps rise in their path. Once they reach the tips of your fingers, he intertwines them with yours, creating a seamless connection, then gently presses both hands against the sturdy shelf of books. The tip of his tongue finds your neck again, swirling patterns into the skin, and the sensation of his touch sends shivers down your spine.
You want to stay like this – focused on Haechan – but the thought that you were missing the real show on the bottom floor, makes you turn your attention to the other two occupants of the library.
It’s unfortunate that the girl in Jaemins lap decided to wear jeans, because watching her struggle to undo the button, while your best friend observes impatiently, makes your head spin. He looks like he wants to rip them off her without a second thought. Instead, he smacks her hands aside with a cheeky grin and swiftly undoes it, shoving his big hand down the front of her jeans. You can’t hear what he whispers into the shell of her ear, but her breathy moans pour from parted lips, carrying across the library.
Haechan’s teeth nip at your shoulder as he untangles one of his hands from yours and curls it around the waist band of your skirt.
“No–” you mumble, “Don’t wanna get undressed here…just…push my panties to the side or something.”
Haechan’s eyes widen behind you, though you can’t see. You only hear the grunt that escapes his lips as he obeys, roughly twisting them to the side.
A shiver runs through you, the stark contrast between how he is now and how he was the other night. He’s rougher now, less gentle, less tender. It’s as if he has something to prove—maybe holding onto you with a firmer grip is the only way for him to believe it’s real. To convince himself that you’re truly his for a second time, even though you swore it would never happen again.
You barely register the sound of foil tearing before his hand moves between you, the cool slide of latex against your skin making your breath hitch. He works quickly, efficiently, like he’s done this a thousand times before—like he can’t afford to waste a second more. The anticipation coils tight in your stomach, and you swear you’re already dizzy by the time he presses against you again.
You have to slap a hand over your trembling lips when Haechan pushes his cock into you so roughly that you tilt forward and nearly lose your footing. His knuckles brushing the inside of your thigh from holding your panties to the side feels like zaps of electricity, and your eyes flutter close again.
This is so bad of you. So very bad. But you don’t mind it. Because right now, he’s fucking you so hard and so fast that you haven’t had any time to adjust. No time to think.
The shelf is shaking, but Haechan can’t find the willpower to care. He can’t find the willpower to care about anything. He doesn’t care if you don’t like him the same. He doesn’t care if you’re just doing this because it’s the right place, right time. He doesn’t care if it’s only happening because you’re enjoying the sight of Jaemin and that girl. He doesn’t fucking care.
Not when he’s the one fucking you, pushing you against the shelves so hard they might just fall over. And when you sigh his name, so breathy and whiny and so perfectly his, he reaffirms that he doesn’t fucking care.
You chose this moment.
You chose him.
If only for a night.
But he’ll take a night. He’d take anything you’d give him – anything you’d be willing to spare.
He feels like he’s transcended the astral plane, the way you suck him in, pussy so wet he’s nearly slipping out with each thrust.
Jaemin is losing his mind too. This girl – whatever her name is – just won’t shut up. She’s babbling about how hot he is, how sexy it is that she’s on his lap right now, how she can’t believe they’re doing this in the middle of the library.
All he wants to do is fuck her mouth so she’ll shut up.
You know that look — the one Jaemin gets when he's on the edge of annoyance. A flicker of doubt crosses your mind. Does he know you're up there watching? Maybe that's what’s setting him off. For a brief second, your heart clenches, cold and uncertain — but then Haechan's lips find your neck, scattering your thoughts like they were never there.
His hand reaches up the front of your body, enclosing itself around your throat. At the same time, Jaemin's hand tightens around the girl's throat, his fingers pressing into her skin with the same slow, deliberate intensity. A choked gasp slips from her lips, mirroring the way your breath shudders under Haechan’s touch. The sight of them, so perfectly aligned, sends a sharp thrill down your spine. “How does it feel?” He mumbles, squeezing just a bit, so that your response comes out quiet and strained.
“Feels good.”
“Just good?
“Feels perfect.” You gasp out.
The room feels hotter as their hands move in sync—tight, possessive. Haechan's thumb brushes along your jawline, eyes flicking between your parted lips and the way your breath catches under his grip. Jaemin mirrors him perfectly, leaning in close to the girl whose whimper fills the space.
“Perfect, huh?” Haechan taunts low in your ear, voice dripping with cocky amusement. His fingers flex around your throat, just enough to make your pulse race.
Jaemin's fingers disappear further down the girl's jeans, knuckles flexing as he works her open — soft wet sounds carrying through the dead silence of the library. His eyes are lidded, lips curled into that lazy, cocky grin you know so well. The one that says he knows exactly what he's doing to her — what he should be doing to you.
Haechan's hips snap harder behind you, forcing your cheek against the cold shelf as the books rattle in protest. His breath is hot on the side of your face, voice low and taunting. "You wish it was him, don't you?"
Your nails scrape against the wood, trying to find something — anything — to ground yourself as the shame pools hotter between your legs.
"No," you lie through clenched teeth.
Haechan laughs, breathless and mean. His hand snakes up your chest, pushing under your shirt to grab at your tits. He squeezes hard enough to make you arch into him, hips rolling back against his cock. "Liar," he spits. "You're dripping down my dick watching him finger some random bitch."
Your eyes snap open, finding Jaemin again. His mouth is on her neck now, pink tongue flicking against the delicate skin as she writhes in his lap. His free hand fists her hair, holding her still — the same way he playfully does with you when he’s holding something high above his head that you can’t reach.
Fuck.
Haechan feels the way your pussy clenches around him at the sight, and the cruel grin that spreads across his face makes your stomach flip. "Filthy little slut... you like pretending I'm him?"
You shake your head no, but Haechan catches your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look straight through the shelves. Straight at Jaemin.
"Then keep your eyes on him while I fuck you. Since that's what you want so bad."
Heat flushes through your entire body — humiliation, desire, and something darker twisting in your gut. You shouldn't want this. You shouldn't want to be fucked like a ragdoll while imagining your best friend is the one splitting you open. But the way Haechan's cock is stretching you — brutal and unrelenting — makes it so fucking hard to care.
The girl on Jaemin's lap starts whining, hips rocking against his hand. Jaemin's mouth drops open in a soft moan, head tipping back against the chair. His fingers are moving faster now — slick, dirty sounds echoing through the stacks.
Haechan's lips brush your ear, voice syrupy sweet. "Wanna come together, baby? Wanna let him hear how good we're being up here?"
You're so close — thighs trembling, pussy clenching around him with every punishing thrust. And the worst part is... you do want it. You want Jaemin to hear you. You want him to know exactly what you're doing — what he's missing out on. What Haechan gets to have while he wastes his time with girls who won't ever know him the way you do.
Haechan's fingers find your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles that send sparks shooting up your spine. "That's it," he groans, hips stuttering. "Come for me, baby. Let him hear how fucking good I fuck you."
A sudden rustle echoes through the library — footsteps approaching, heavy and deliberate. Your breath catches, panic slicing through the haze of pleasure.
You don’t want the pleasure to stop, but the sparks in your stomach are dying down with each jangle of keys you hear. When you turn your head, you see a flashlight sweeping through the aisles of books a few rows over.
“Haechan we gotta go.” You urge.
“W-Wait, just give me, ah fuck, give me two seconds.” He stammers out, hands squeezing and kneading your thighs as he gets closer and closer.
“Hyuck.” You warn,
“Please!” He whines, “I’m so fucking close.”
You roll your eyes and say the thing you know will get him to finish, “Be a good boy and cum for me.”
The words are barely a whisper, yet they cut through the tension like a knife. His body tenses, a low groan rumbling in his throat. His hips buck against yours one last time, a shudder running through him as he spills inside you. The sudden quiet after his release is deafening, broken only by the continued jangling of keys and the soft thud of approaching footsteps.
“Hurry up.” You whisper through gritted teeth.
Haechan curses under his breath, pulling out of you with a slick pop. He rips the condom off, glancing around frantically before stuffing it between the pages of a geology textbook.
“That’s disgusting.” You whisper.
He just shrugs.
"Okay," he breathes, his voice thick with spent desire. "Okay, we go."
He pulls away, and you quickly adjust your clothing, the sound of rustling fabric seeming impossibly loud in the silence. "Come on," you hiss urgently, fingers tightening around Haechan's arm as you dart through the labyrinth of shelves with desperate determination. This stupid fucking geology section was so damn difficult to navigate. Shelves of useless books and glass cases of rocks. You take a wrong turn and end up face to face with a wall.
“This way dumbass.” Haechan whispers, this time grabbing your hand and pulling you in the opposite direction.
Apparently, he knew exactly where to go, dragging you down a few corridors and finally to the back staircase that you had come up earlier. His hand tugs you down the steps so fast you think you might just tumble down them. But when you reach the bottom, he spares you a glance, “You okay?”
“Y-yeah.”
"Hey!” The security guard's shout jolts you, too close for comfort, and you both sprint away once more.
Navigating the bottom floor feels better; fewer shelves clutter the space, replaced by study room cubicles and vacant tables. You trail behind Haechan, relief flooding you as you spot the double doors illuminated by the red exit sign.
At last, you burst through the library doors, the cool night air a balm against the fevered heat of adrenaline that courses through your veins. But as you collide with a figure standing at the edge of the pathway, your heart lurches.
This was it. You were done for. Caught by the security guard for breaking the rules. You just hope they don’t throw you in jail. They couldn’t arrest you, could they?
"Jaemin?" Haechan gasps, his voice a breathless whisper that hangs in the air like a fragile thread.
Forget jail – you might just die here on the spot.
There Jaemin was, his hands holding your arms to steady you. God he really was just solid wall of muscle. But it was just him, no girl in sight.
He peers down at you, mouth dropped in surprise. “What are you two doing here?”
You and Haechan share a quick look and then speak at the same time. “Project.”
Jaemin releases his hold on you and takes a step back, “You don’t share classes.”
“I was helping him.”
“It’s due tonight.” Haechan affirms, still trying to catch his breath, “What were you doing here?”
It’s an accusatory statement – but you didn’t think Haechan had the balls to actually ask it.
Jaemin shoves his hands in his pockets and starts down the path. The both of you follow on his heels, “I was studying.”
“Right.”
“Well, are you guys coming back to the dorm to finish the project?”
“Can’t. I have to go to a Jennie thing, like, right now.” As if on cue, your phone pings with a slew of messages from her – all asking where the hell you were. “Can one of you guys go with me? She’s asking me why I’m late and she’s not gonna be satisfied unless I have a good excuse. But, if I bring one of you guys, she’ll understand.”
Haechan pipes up from beside you incredibly fast. Literally jumping at the chance, “I’ll go.”
“Don’t you have a project to finish?” Jaemin’s voice holds a note of skepticism as he turns his gaze to Hyuck, one eyebrow lifted.
Haechan’s expression falters for a moment, his defense tumbling from his lips, “Yeah, but–”
“You should probably head back to work on it.” You interject, tone firm.
Jaemin nodded in agreement.
If you could get Jaemin to go with you, perhaps the night would lead exactly where you wanted it too…with him between your legs, and another part of the challenge completed.
Sure, you felt bad about literally ditching the boy you were just fooling around with – who you literally made cum in less than ten minutes. But you had a duty. A responsibility.
Right?
Haechan just shoves his hands into his pocket and storms off towards his dorm without another word. Which, by the way, was not the norm for him. He always had to have the last word. Boy must really be butt hurt.
“Jaemin?” you began, turning to face him, a playful glint dancing in your eyes.
“What do I get out of this?” Jaemin's response was quick, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he met your gaze.
You roll your eyes, searching for something that would tip the scale in your favor. “You get to see pretty girls in pretty dresses.”
“Fucking deal.”
So, turns out entering a sorority house in the middle of an event was not a respected nor appreciated thing.
Technically you wouldn’t have been late had Jaemin not insisted on stopping by his dorm so that he could change. He had ‘too many girls to impress’. And then, every outfit he chose, Haechan had some rude comment to make. Thus, making you late.
Girls around the room shoot dirty looks as you and Jaemin scramble in through the door. You tuck your head down, feeling the weight of their judgement. Jaemin, however, seemed to revel in the attention. Instead of trying to blend in, he unabashedly drank in the gazes directed your way. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he winked and waved to some of the girls around you. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his audacity.
What a manslut.
Thankfully, your entrance didn't manage to disrupt Jennie's announcement. The sorority president continued her speech from the front of the room, determined to maintain the flow of the event, even if her sisters were still glaring at you.
As Jennie finished calling the names of all the new sisters, the room erupted into cheers and applause.
Someone starts playing music.
Drinks start flowing.
Jaemin filters off with mumbled excuses of finding said drinks.
And you realize just how fucked you look, literally.
Your disheveled appearance didn't go unnoticed, as Jennie approached your huddled figure. Trying to smooth down your hair and straighten your skirt, she all but sprints over. Her eyes widen when she spots a hickey on your neck.
"You're not helping your case," Jennie teased, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You sure you didn't sleep with him?"
You chuckled nervously, clawing at the mark on your neck, "Not him, someone else."
“Someone else?” She questions, raising an eyebrow. A hint of guilt washes over you; perhaps it's time to open up to her. The expression she wears suggests that if you don't share the information willingly, she might claw it out of you.
You open your mouth and close it, almost mechanically. What were you going to say? Tell her that Haechan decided to have his fun between the shelves of the geology section. Jennie would kill you, like, actually murder you and dump your cold body in the quad fountain. She’s eyeing you expectantly.
“Actually, it was–”
“Y/n! Jennie!” Jaehyun's smooth voice interrupts, catching you off guard. You turned to see him, a playful glint in his eyes. He pushes past a group of people, smiling all the while. Luck must really be on your side this week, because Jennie turns away from you to embrace him, your expected confession already forgotten.
When she pulls away, she shoots you a look. If you squinted, you’d see her pupils replaced by little animated hearts. She really was into him.
“I didn’t know you were in a sorority Y/n.” He paused, eyes flickering between you and Jennie. "You both look amazing."
You chuckled, waving off the idea. "No sorority for me. I'm just here to support Jennie. She's the social butterfly tonight.”
Jennie beamed at the mention of her being a social butterfly, and Jaehyuns compliment, clearly enjoying the attention from both of you. "Oh, you two should chat. Y/n, meet Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is Y/n, my roommate, best friend, partner in crime, etcetera."
Jennie doesn’t know that you’ve both met before, and you guess he doesn’t have the heart to explain it all to her. Unaware of your previous encounters, she continued her introduction “Jae, Y/n is amazing. She’s the one who introduced me to that new coffee shop I’ve been meaning to take you to!”
Jaehyun extends his hand, and you shook it, feeling a subtle spark as your eyes met. "Nice to officially meet you, Y/n. Jennie's been talking about you," he admitted, a smile playing on his lips.
You raised an eyebrow, curious. "Oh, has she now?"
Jennie nodded enthusiastically. "Only good things, I promise! Mostly about the coffee joint."
“About that…” Jaehyun says, pulling out his phone from his pocket and tapping the screen a few times, “I’ve been meaning to get your number so we can go sometime.”
When he hands the phone to Jennie, she all but passes out. A beaming smile overtakes her features as she hastily inputs her number. “I sent myself a text, so you’ll know it’s me.” As Jennie handed back Jaehyun's phone, a newfound excitement radiated from her. "I can't wait for us to check it out together. It's my absolute favorite," she exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to how the boy was now smirking at you.
Jaehyun, still not looking in your roommates direction, gave a nod of agreement. "Absolutely, looking forward to it." He pockets his phone and leans against the wall.
Your roommate shoots you another look, this one of pure giddy delight. “Alright! I’d like to stay and chat with you guys all night, but I got a party to run! Being a Delta Gamma girl means I gotta run around like a chicken with her head cut off. I’ll catch you guys later though?” Jennie shot one last love-struck glance your way before gracefully maneuvering through the crowd, disappearing into the sea of partygoers.
As the music pulsed and the lively atmosphere continued around you, you found yourself standing with Jaehyun, both of you momentarily left to your own devices. Jaemin was nowhere to be found so you might as well enjoy the company of Jeno’s older half-brother.
Jaehyun, ever the smooth talker, leaned in a bit closer, his voice a low murmur over the music. "Well, it looks like it's just you and me now.”
“Seems like it.” You respond, not sure what to say, but Jaehyun interrupts what little silence there was.
"So, Y/n," He begins, "Tell me about Jeno. Been keeping an eye on him?”
Honestly, you hadn't crossed paths with Jeno much this week. The only time you managed to meet up was for lunch earlier in the day, and even then, Jaehyun decided to join, leaving your catch-up session with Jeno cut short.
"Well, I'm not his personal watchdog, but as far as I know he’s doing alright. He’s probably practicing for the game tomorrow.”
Jaehyun's smile widened, and he reached up to casually brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture sent a subtle shiver down your spine. Why did he do that? That was literally so out of the blue. Especially when he just gave your roommate his number.
"Speaking of keeping an eye on things," he teased, his tone now laced with a hint of flirtation, "You seem like you need a drink. Want me to get you one?"
You glance around the room, searching for Jaemin so that you could excuse yourself, but he was nowhere to be found – still.
You sigh, “Yeah, sure. Why not? Surprise me.”
Jaehyun returned shortly with a drink in hand, and as you took a sip, he continued the conversation. "So, tell me about the party last weekend. Did you and Haechan enjoy yourselves?"
The mention of the party made you choke on your drink (that, and the fact that it was literally ninety-five percent tequila and five percent lemonade), surprised by the sudden shift in topic. “Me and Haechan? W-what do you mean?”
He couldn’t know, could he…?
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, smirking so wide his dimples hollowed out his cheeks. It was kind of cute – in an objective way, of course. “Well, you guys went off during spin the bottle, right?”
Oh, you had totally forgotten about that.
“Yeah, but we didn’t do anything.” You wave your hand in front of your face and take another sip of your drink. It wasn’t entirely a lie – you didn’t do anything at the party.
He hums and takes a sip of his own drink. Swallowing it hard, he gestures to you, “Well, I can clearly see a hickey on your neck, so who has the pleasure of getting at you?”
Your drink nearly becomes a choking hazard once more. Attempting to articulate a response, you struggle as the words seem to get caught in your throat. God damn tequila.
“Was it Jaemin?”
Now that…that about killed you. You wished it had been Jaemin’s lips on your neck, his hands on your body, his co- “Hate to burst your bubble, but me and Jaemin are just friends.” You give him a wry smile, “It was just some dude in my class.”
“Some dude?” He smirks, and those damn dimples come out again.
You nod, “Unfortunately.”
He lifts his cup to his lips and utters, almost muffled by the rim of the solo cup, "I bet I could do better."
“Is that so?” You quip, the words leaving your mouth faster than you can comprehend. There’s no justification for the thoughts seeping into your brain. This was supposed to be Jennies man. Jeno’s brother. A friend and nothing more.
But those dimples.
And that suit he was wearing. All black tie, shiny shoes, and crisp white button up.
You could blame it on the alcohol.
You could blame it on Haechan leaving you high and dry.
You could blame it on a million other things…
But one thing is for certain: You just might regret this in the morning.
You’re definitely going to regret this in the morning.
When the windows of his car fog up, you notice the faded presence of heart shapes delicately traced by the touch of someone’s finger.
Probably his ex.
Unfortunately, this is the only thing you manage to focus on while Jaehyun fisted a handful of your hair, yanking your head back. His thrusts were fast and pointed and damn near painful.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He groans.
Maybe if you could focus really hard, you’d be able to finish, but when he snakes his hand around your waist and starts rubbing the side of your leg, you realize that that wasn’t going to happen.
“Feel good?” The cockiness drips from his lips, and it almost makes you laugh. Poor thing, at least he was hot.
“Mhm.” It’d feel better if he slowed down and stopped jackhammering into you.
The leather seats of his car stick against your skin when you try to lift up onto your elbows. It was pretty spacious, but with Jaehyun all but laying on top of you, it felt more than cramped.
His hand rubs harder, “Don’t hold back baby, cum for me.”
Did he really believe you were close to finishing? You weren’t making any sounds, not shaking, not moaning for him to keep going or go faster. But genuinely, if you told him the truth, it would probably break his ego in half. Or prompt him to actually get better at sex.
You decide to just fake it. “Fuck Jae…Feels good.”
His voice is strained, “Don’t call me Jae.”
“Sorry–” You mumble, head dipping under the weight of his heavy hand that comes to grab at the back of your neck. His other hand was already wrapped up in your hair, but the other steadies himself while he continues to fuck into you.
“Call me daddy.” He breathes.
Of course he’d have a daddy kink.
You amp your voice up a bit “F-Fuck, daddy, love your cock.” Apparently, this was exactly what he wanted because he starts humming in satisfaction, “Want your cum.” You just wanted him to be done.
The tips of his ears turn red, pace faltering when the name rolls off your tongue. “Baby...fuck” He keeps it just like that, disjointedly fucking into you as he came – thank god he had a condom on. But he doesn’t pull out right away, instead keeping still until his breathing returned to normal. You just kinda awkwardly sit there, panting.
“That was really good.” He chuckles, pulling out and sitting down on the seat. You fix yourself too, sitting beside him. Your skirt is down on the floorboard, so you bend down to get it and start to put it back on. You felt sticky and sore and not satisfied at all.
The silence becomes more awkward than it should have been, so you speak up, “So…you have a daddy kink?”
He opens the car door and drops the condom on the ground – which was really fucking gross, but what other choice did he have?
“Yeah…I don’t know, it’s something new I guess.”
Continuing to awkwardly fumble around for something to say you ask another question, “Oh, you were experimenting?”
“I guess.” The awkwardness starts to creep back in again. He wasn’t good at pillow talking, was he? He wasn’t good at much anything when it came to sex, you guess. Throwing on his shirt, he starts to get dressed while you twist your hands together in your lap.
You shifted uncomfortably, “Um, I should probably go find Jennie,” you mumbled, avoiding direct eye contact with Jaehyun.
He seemed oblivious, choosing to focus on the button of his jeans, “Sounds good. Think ‘m gonna head home.” When he did look up, he gave you a genuine smile, “You okay to walk?”
“Yeah,” you replied, “I think I’m good.”
What is it with guys and asking if you were okay to walk after? It’s not like they’re paralyzing you with their magical cock.
As he sat there, you couldn't help but think this dude needed a serious sex ed lesson, and then a follow-up on how to treat a girl after putting her through... that.
“If you ever wanna do this again, you have my number,” he said casually.
You didn’t have his number, and you would never get it. You forced a smile, “Absolutely!”
He got out of the car, and you followed suit, stepping out onto the street and discreetly fixing your clothes so that it looked like you hadn’t been cramped in the back seat of someone’s car. He made his way to the driver’s side door and opened it, “You gonna be at the game on Sunday?”
“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it. Jeno would kill me, you know.”
He nodded, seemingly unfazed, "Great, hopefully I’ll see you there."
You waved a half-hearted goodbye as he got into his car. When he pulled out of sight, you muttered to yourself, lesson learned, boundaries set.
Turning on your heel, you went back inside the sorority house. The vibrant energy of the party still pulsed through the air. You wonder where this night would have gone had you stayed. Too late for that now. Now you were just unsatisfied and pissed off.
Frowning, you spot Jaemin across the room sitting on a couch. Some girl has her arm thrown around him and they’re laughing. His pink hair falls into his eyes when he looks at her and she reaches a hand up to move the tumbled strands. Her other hand rubs his arms, and he annoyingly flexes. They were three seconds away from kissing and honestly, it pissed you off even more.
Rolling your eyes, you march over to him, damn near pushing people out of the way. Some tell you to watch where you’re going but you ignore them, entirely focused on Jaemin and whoever this girl was.
“Hey Y/N” he cheerfully greets, giving you a beaming smile, “This is Vera.” He gestures to the girl by his side
You grabbed his upper arm, shaking Vera’s grip off of his other one, and pulling him upright – away from her. "Come on, we're leaving," you declared, not in the mood for his flirtatious antics. His bicep flexes, and you find yourself even more desperate to get the fuck out of the sorority house and home to where you could give yourself a proper orgasm.
Jaemin protested, trying to resist your tug. "Dude, what the fuck.” He lowers his voice, “Can’t you see I’m with a girl.”
You shot him a stern look, "You're my date?? This is so rude."
Vera just gives a nervous laugh. Probably afraid that you’d hit her if she tried something. You wouldn’t, but she didn’t know that.
He chuckled, still trying to charm his way out of the situation, "Come on, don't be like that. She's cute, and I was just having a chat." He lowers his voice again, this time whining, “Dude we were just about to go back to her place, don’t fuck this up for me please!”
Ignoring his protests, you start to drag him toward the exit. He finally relented, realizing you were serious about leaving. As you reached the door, he turned to Vera and mouthed, "Call me!"
You shook your head, muttering under your breath, "Unbelievable."
Outside, the cool night air hit you, and you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the evening. "Note to self: choose Haechan next time."
The campus path stretched ahead as you stormed down it, frustration evident in every step. Jaemin followed behind for a few minutes until he got fed up. When he finally catches up, he grabs your shoulder and spins you around.
"What's got you so mad?" he asked, a bemused expression on his face.
You took a deep breath, deciding to let it out. "Jeno's brother.”
“What about Jeno’s brother? Did he try something…I swear to God Y/N, if he tried something-”
You cut him off, “He sucks at sex.” The embarrassment creeps up your spine the longer Jaemin stares at you with wide eyes.
“Wait you…” Jaemin burst into laughter, his amusement echoing through the pathway. "No fucking way…” He clutches his stomach and doubles over, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes like you just said the funniest thing in the world, “Jeno’s brother?”
You shot him a look, still seething, but Jaemin's laughter was contagious, and soon you found yourself smiling despite your annoyance.
"What? Did he have a small dick or something?” Jaemin teased, the corners of his lips still twitching with mirth.
Eyes rolling, you cross your arms over your chest. “More like he thinks giving me an orgasm means rubbing the side of my thigh for five minutes while he fucks like a jack rabbit.”
“Oh my god.” Jaemin doubles over in laughter again, “Now I know why his girl left him.”
“Not funny.”
“Come on,” He chuckles, “Don’t be mad, laugh it off.”
You sighed, "I'm not mad, Jaemin. I'm sexually frustrated."
The laughter died down instantly as Jaemin's expression shifted. "Oh," he says, a hint of realization dawning in his eyes.
"Yeah, oh," you replied, not expecting such a reaction. What was he thinking? And why was he looking at you like that?
After a moment of silence, Jaemin speaks up, his voice softer now. "I’ll do it.”
A breeze passes through the quad, making you shiver. You rub your arms to bring warmth back into them, barely registering Jaemins words, “You’ll do what? Fuck his ex better than he ever could?”
“No,” he chuckles, “I’ll fuck you better than he ever could.”
It’s almost like the world tips over and starts swimming in your vision, because there’s no way, on Gods green fucking earth, that Na Jaemin just offered to fuck you. What happened to not even touching you with a ten-foot pole? Was there sex pollen in the air or something? Did that girl slip something into Jaemins' drink? What happened to being just friends?
But Na Jaemin was just a boy
And you were just a girl. One that was in desperate need of an orgasm.
He seemed to pick up on your hesitation, prompting him to move a step closer and begin clarifying, “Look, I won’t make it weird or anything.” Extending his hand, he gently caresses your arm, and you allow it. “Just a friend helping out a friend, right?”
“But…Why?”
As long as you’d known Jaemin there was no sexual chemistry whatsoever. Except for the last couple weeks when this challenge shit started. But you could have sworn that was all one sided, stemming from your overactive, horny ass brain that needed to be satiated.
“I guess I have a thing for helping those in need…you know, tutoring and all.”
You chew on your bottom lip, “Makes sense…”
Could this night possibly help you complete the second part of the challenge? Was fucking Na Jaemin going to be this easy?
His hand continues to stroke the side of your arm and goosebumps break out on the exposed skin. “Come on Y/N, you deserve an actual orgasm after having to put up with that.”
You raise an eyebrow, “And you think you can give me one?”
“Oh I know I can. Multiple if you’d like.” His words bite through the air, confidence dripping from his lips. Except, instead of it being cocky and very not true like Jaehyun earlier, you could sense he was telling the truth. And thinking back to the video he showed you weeks ago, of him fucking that girl and making her squirt, you realize, Jaemin is exactly who you want right now.
But maybe you want him to work for it a little more, after all, he was the slut in the friend group. (Even if you were the one that already had two cocks in you tonight).
Taking a step closer, you gaze into his eyes, “You talk a big game, Na Jaemin.”
God, he looked fucking good. Button up slightly askew, taunt collar bones peeking through the top. You want to rip it right off of him and get to the muscle’s underneath.
He mirrors your stare, “And I can back it up.” Time stands still when he gives you a once over, biting his lip when he gets to the (as hyuck called it) short ass cheerleading skirt you wore, “Look, I won’t even cum if you don’t want me too. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Desperation rolls off his tongue, and if you had looked closely enough, you’d notice the front of his pants tightening. He never thought about you in this kind of way. You were always off limits to him. A girl he could never claim. But now…with you staring at him like you wanted to bite him (odd, though he’s gotten more feral reactions from other girls before), he can’t help but think about you naked in his bed. Begging for his cock. Begging for him. And well, that made him hard.
“Whatever I want?”
He repeats his words, “Whatever you want.” Voice dropping to barely above a whisper, he gives you another once over, “You can use me as your personal sex toy.”
“Oh, but I’m not Vera?” At this point, you were teasing him – and he knew it. “Thought you wanted her?”
He laughs, “Maybe, but you’re definitely prettier than her.” It catches him by surprise when he notices that it’s true. You were prettier than her. In fact, now that he’s noticing, you were prettier than about ninety five percent of the girls on this campus. How the fuck had he not noticed before? Or maybe he had…maybe this is the first time he’s wanted to admit it to himself. “Come on, I’m so much better than the rubber shit you’d be using if you went home alone.”
You step closer, almost chest-to-chest with him, “And how do you know I’d be using rubber; I have perfectly good hands-”
He leans in, bringing his face inches from yours, "Not better than mine." His eyes drift down to your lips, only to return and lock onto your gaze. "And we both know that."
There’s only a sliver of sanity left in your body to stop you from kissing him right then, right there, in the middle of campus.
“Jaemin.” You whisper.
“Yeah baby?”
That sanity was slipping further and further away.
“What’s the fastest route to your dorm?”
A. NOTE. read the the note at the beginning of this post. and don't forget to reblog :)
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2:27 pm || z.cl
pairing: chenle x reader
word count: 1234 (i’m being so deadass)
genre: smut (MDNI), timestamps <3
warnings: bestfriend!chenle, inexperienced reader, pussy eater chenle!!, praise, pet names, overstimulation…again :3
a/n: yeah…take my phone away from me 😭😭
“you’re really nervous, huh?”
his voice is soft— gentle in that way chenle rarely ever is. usually he’s teasing, smug, full of sharp grins and sarcastic remarks. but not right now.
right now he’s kneeling between your thighs, warm palms sliding slowly up the backs of your legs as you sit there on the edge of his bed, trembling slightly, every part of you too aware of the fact that you’re finally letting him touch you like this.
your best friend.
your very experienced, very cocky best friend.
you nod, swallowing hard. “i’ve never—i mean, not like this. not anyone…”
he leans in a little, thumbs brushing the crease where your thighs meet your hips. “i know,” he says softly, meeting your gaze. “i’ll take care of you. you trust me, right?”
you nod again—faster this time. because you do. you’ve always trusted him.
and something about the way he’s looking at you makes you ache. like you’re something fragile. like he wants to ruin you slow.
“good,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “just relax, baby. let me make you feel good.”
you inhale sharply as he pushes your legs apart, letting them fall open for him. chenle groans, low and soft, like he’s been waiting for this forever.
“fuck,” he breathes, mouth barely brushing your skin. “so pretty. you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
his hands are steady, thumbs stroking gentle circles into your hips as he kisses closer. he’s not rushing. not even a little.
you’re already soaked, and the first slow lick of his tongue makes you gasp.
“oh my god—”
“shhh,” he murmurs, grinning against you. “you’re okay. i’ve got you.”
he eats you out like he’s memorizing the shape of every sound you make—every twitch, every breathless moan. like he wants to make you cry from how good it feels.
and the praise. god, the praise.
“so sweet, baby.”
“you’re doing so good for me.”
“you taste like fucking heaven.”
his voice is thick with want, but he doesn’t let it slip. doesn’t rush. just keeps lapping at you slowly, tongue dragging through your folds, lips sealing around your clit with practiced ease.
you’re shaking in minutes, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other gripping his hair.
“c-chenle, i—”
he pulls back for half a second, mouth shiny, smile soft and crooked. “already close?”
you nod frantically, eyes wet.
“fuck, that’s so hot,” he whispers, before diving back in.
he moans against you like he loves it—like getting you off is his favorite fucking thing in the world. and it’s too much—his tongue, his voice, the way he’s holding your hips down even as you squirm.
“come for me, baby,” he breathes, mouth brushing your clit, fingers digging into your thighs. “let go. i wanna hear how pretty you sound when you fall apart.”
and when you do—shaking and sobbing through the most overwhelming pleasure you’ve ever felt—he doesn’t stop. he slows, sure, kisses through it, licks up everything you give him with a groan like he’s drunk on it.
then he’s kissing your thighs again. your belly. your trembling hips.
“you did so good for me,” he whispers, crawling up beside you to pull you into his chest. “so fuckin’ good. my perfect girl.”
your legs won’t stop shaking, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps as you clutch chenle’s shirt, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your limbs. you’re dazed—floaty. the kind of blissed-out that makes it hard to speak, let alone think.
he’s holding you gently now, hand smoothing over your back, lips brushing your forehead like he just gave you the sweetest gift in the world.
and then he murmurs it. low and soft and dangerous.
“i’m not done with you.”
you stiffen a little, whining into his shirt. “i—i already—”
“i know,” he says sweetly, kissing the corner of your mouth. “you were perfect. but i didn’t say you could stop.”
your breath catches. his tone isn’t cruel. it’s warm. coaxing. but there’s something firm under it—something that tells you he means it.
his hand slips down again, fingers ghosting over your soaked, sensitive cunt. you jolt.
“still wet,” he whispers. “still warm. so pretty like this—fuck, you squeeze when i talk to you like that.”
you whimper, thighs trying to close on instinct, but he’s already between them again. already settling down with a grin that could ruin anyone.
“you trust me, right?” he says again, eyes locking with yours. “you want me to take care of you?”
you nod, already breathless again, even as your body trembles.
“that’s my girl.”
and then he’s kissing you there again—softer this time, gentler, but it burns now, every brush of his tongue dragging sparks through your nerves. your hips lift without meaning to, legs trembling as he licks slow, careful stripes over your clit.
“so sensitive,” he coos. “you feel everything now, don’t you?”
you nod helplessly, mouth falling open as another soft moan escapes you. it’s too much—you should be done. but the way he’s touching you? the praise? the warm weight of his hands holding your thighs apart, steady and patient and so fucking in control—it makes you want more.
he keeps going, not teasing, not rushing. just loving you. like this is his favorite thing in the world. like he knew you’d take it again. like he knew your body would give in even when your mind said it was too much.
“you’re doing so good for me, baby. look at you,” he murmurs, voice full of warmth and awe. “already shaking, already crying again. and you’re still letting me.”
your eyes are glossy now, and you don’t even realize the tears are back until he lifts his head and kisses one off your thigh.
“fuck, you’re so sweet,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips. “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
he presses a kiss to your clit, feather-light, and your whole body jolts.
“can you give me one more?” he whispers, smiling up at you. “just one. i’ll make it feel so good, i promise. just one more for me, pretty girl.”
you whine, nodding through the overwhelm, because even if it’s too much—you trust him. and you want it. want him.
his tongue returns with purpose this time, circling your clit, flicking it just right, the angle of his mouth making everything sharper. your hips twitch and your hand flies to his hair, tugging without realizing it.
“that’s it,” he breathes, voice husky and low. “give it to me. i want to feel you come again. i need to.”
and god—when it happens, it’s loud. it’s messy. it’s a sobbed-out moan and a full-body shake, your thighs closing around his head as you come for him a second time, even harder than the first.
he doesn’t stop until you push at him, crying out softly, and even then he kisses your thigh, your mound, your hip—whispering, “you did so good. you’re amazing. i’m so proud of you.”
and when he finally climbs back up beside you, pulling you into his arms again, you bury your face in his neck, still trembling. still reeling.
he presses a kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back.
“you okay?” he whispers.
you nod. and then, barely audible—“thank you.”
his smile is audible in the warmth of his voice.
“anytime, baby.”
green gables. (m)
pairing: e2l!jaemin x afab!reader
words: 22.9k+
summary: your search for a family lands you at green gables, where you learn to adapt to the new challenges that come your way.
genre: fluff, angst, smut
warnings: takes place in the late 19th century, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, bigdick!jaemin, creampies, fingering
inspired by anne of green gables, anne of avonlea, anne of green gables (1985), anne of avonlea (1987), anne with an e
For your entire life, you dreamed of having a home to call yours.
Your parents passed when you were only an infant, leaving you to be handed off to the local orphanage who barely had enough funding to keep their heads above water. Most of the adults who came to visit were only looking for boys that could help around the house. It was rare for anyone to come in and request a girl, unless they were a newborn mother who couldn’t handle the constant screaming at night.
Still, despite every year passing with no sign of a couple willing to adopt you, your optimism never wavered. You imagined a great big life with green pastures and parents who wanted to shower you in the utmost adoration.
Until that day comes, you’re forced to face the reality of your current situation.
A mop drops in front of you, cracking at the base and standing on its last leg. Mrs. Baek gruffly orders, “Go clean up the kitchen. One of the boys was nauseous last night and it’s starting to smell rancid in there.”
“Yes, Mrs. Baek,” you reply obediently, taking the mop from the floor and trudging off to the kitchens.
Another downside of not being adopted yet is the constant onslaught of chores. Being one of the only grownups left in the orphanage, tasks were assigned off to you in lieu of the other younger children. Mrs. Baek always reminds you that she only has to pay for your housing for another year before the government allows her to start collecting dues. You try not to think about how you’ll possibly locate the compensation, hoping someone will come to take you into their home before then.
You clean up the sick from the kitchen floor, pinching the bridge of your nose to stop the smell from invading your senses. Mrs. Kim pops in, eyes narrowing at you. The elderly woman has never been very fond of you, blaming your lack of adoption on your incessant need to dream. She thinks if you were a little more grounded in reality, an expecting mother would have hired you into her household by now.
She calls your last name with a huff. “Put that down and come with me. A request has come in for you.”
Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. A request could mean two things — a mother finally caved in and asked for a helping hand or a family has decided to come rescue you from your misfortune. You skip to Mrs. Kim’s office happily, grinning at her when you take a seat across her desk.
“A pair of siblings have called in, asking for a farmhand to help around their estate,” she informs you, unbothered by your excitement at the prospect. “We’ve agreed to send you, as they need an older girl with more labor intensive experience. You’ll depart for the station tomorrow.”
“Oh, Mrs. Kim, thank you, thank you!” You leap up, rushing around her desk to envelope her in a hug. She grunts at you, pushing you away with a sneer.
“Don’t get yourself thinking this means they’ll adopt you. They could very well change their minds after hearing you talk for an hour,” she grumbles. “Now go pack your things and prepare for bed. You have a long trip ahead.”
You decide not to bother her any further, running back to the sleeping area and grabbing your suitcase. The other girls in the orphanage don’t care much for you, loathing your sheer positivity, which contrasted against their evident cynicism. You used to mind it when you were younger, lamenting over not having a close friend as they all deemed you too odd. Now, however, you’ve grown accustomed to fending for yourself.
“And where do you think you’re going, princess?” Ara mocks, watching as you lay your suitcase open on your bed. You grab what little clothes you have and shove them inside. “Off to your make-believe castle?”
The other girls echo her laughter, but you don’t allow their comments to dig under your skin. You focus on the joy of living with a new family, even if they decide not to keep you.
Anywhere is better than here.
“Oh, look girls,” Ara says as she jumps down from her bed. She dangles one of the strings of your tank top on her finger. “Maybe the little miss is off to find herself a boyfriend.”
You glare at her. “Give it back.”
She smirks when she pulls the reaction she wanted out of you. “Why? Need it for your date tonight?”
You lunge at her and she screams, attracting the attention of the caretakers in the next room over. They find you wrestling with Ara on the floor, the both of you resorting to a screaming mess as you yank at each other’s hair. The other girls cheer at the spectacle, forming a barricade around your blurry figures before Mrs. Baek invades the scene. She grabs the back of your shirts and hauls you apart, panting as if she ran across the orphanage just to break up the fight.
“That is it! I’ve had it with the both of you!” She growls, eyes darkening to a frightening shade of black as she looks at you. “I have every nerve not to send you off to your new family tomorrow.”
Your jaw drops at her words and Ara follows suit, albeit for a completely different reason. “She got adopted?” Ara shrieks, flabbergasted by the thought.
You smile proudly while Mrs. Baek replies, “Yes, she did. And if you had only held your tongue for another day, you wouldn’t be cleaning the washrooms tomorrow.”
Ara grows flustered at being disciplined in front of everyone. It’s enough to keep her mouth shut. Mrs. Baek yells that it’s time for lights out, and some of the girls complain due to not having their dinner yet.
“Then you should’ve been fretting over your empty stomachs rather than inciting this ridiculous squabble. For heaven’s sake, most of you will be of the age next year where you have to earn a sufficient wage on your own. I’m horrified by the thought.”
She ensures the room is tucked into bed before closing the door and shutting off the lights. You dig your head into your pillow, the corner of your lips twitching upwards at the thought of boarding a train in the morning. You’ve never been on a train before, and you wonder if it’s as glamorous as they say. Your eyes flit downwards to check on your suitcase stuffed under your bed, which was hastily packed by Mrs. Baek before she barked at you not to cause any more trouble. You feel Ara’s glare from behind you but you ignore it, dreaming of your new life away from here.
—
Your new family is late.
It concerns you quite a bit but you make an attempt not to show it, speaking to the policeman at the train station with much fervor. You rattle on about your first experience on the train and how it was dazzling to see all of the passing views of nature. He nods politely at you, allowing you to talk as freely as you wish.
The clock continues to tick slowly by, but you assure the policeman that your new family will be here to collect you soon.
The last train departs before you see a haggard man walk up the steps, a slight limp in his left leg. Your hope rises that this may be the new man who will whisk you off to his home. However, he stops and asks the policeman you were conversing with earlier, “Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for a young boy.”
“No boy here. There’s a girl sent from the orphanage down south. She’s been waiting since midday.”
“A g-girl?”
You jump off the rickety bench, gripping your suitcase tightly in one hand and strolling up to the questioning man. You put on your best smile for him as Mrs. Kim taught you.
Keep your hands folded together and bow your head kindly. It shows you’re going to be a good girl for them to host.
You offer him your name. “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I have been waiting awfully long and worried you were injured along your journey. But then I got swept up in the cherry trees we passed on the train ride… Oh, have you ever ridden a train before? It was quite a lovely experience, you see, and I’d love to tackle it again if given the chance.”
The man blinks heavily at you while the policeman’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement. The man clears his throat, his wrinkled hands wiping away the sweat building from his brow.
“I’m Ilnam of Green Gables,” he introduces, glancing at the clock hanging nearby. “Let’s get going then. I’ll help you take your bag.”
“I got it!” You reply cheerfully. “I’ve got all my worldly goods from the orphanage here, but it isn’t heavy. They didn’t give me much.” You bid goodbye to the policeman and follow Ilnam to his buggy parked nearby. You continue to ramble even though you know Mrs. Baek would be scolding you by now for not understanding social cues. “Mrs. Kim from the orphanage told me it would be a long drive to Green Gables, isn’t that right? About ten miles. I don’t mind, honestly, as I love rides where I can get to fully invest my thoughts into the surroundings. Oh, I’ve heard Green Gables has beautiful trees around the estate, is that true?”
Ilnam gives a curt nod, gently placing your luggage in the back as he helps you into the buggy. You notice he’s not a man of many words, but you deem it to be fine considering you have plenty of words to share yourself.
You provide him a reprieve from conversing for half of the trek, admiring the blooming fauna around you. When you’re only two miles away from Green Gables, you reach your hand out to brush it against one of the trees covered in white snow, slowly melting due to the seasons changing.
“What do these trees remind you of?” You ask him, eyes sparkling.
He turns to look at you, both of his hands still gripping the reins of the buggy as the horse trots along. “What?”
“The trees, Ilnam,” you say softly. “Don’t they remind you of a winter wedding? A bride dressed head to toe in white, trying not to shiver as she walks down the aisle to her lovely groom? And as soon as her father gives her away, her husband-to-be whispers that she’s just as beautiful as the falling snow?”
He chuckles. “You’ve got one hell of an imagination.”
“Thank you,” you reply proudly, beaming at his acknowledgement. “The other girls at the orphanage didn’t care for it much. I’m glad I can settle in with a new family who appreciates it.”
At your words, Ilnam tenses suddenly, but you fail to notice it as your eyes are drawn to a shimmering lake over the hill.
“Oh, how beautiful!” You exclaim, nearly toppling over the buggy as you lean forward to take a look. Ilnam grabs the back of your dress to block your fall. “What is that lake called?”
“That’s Noh’s pond,” he says, keeping a stray eye locked on you in case your clumsiness pops up again.
“What a dreadful name,” you state with a frown. “Not very creative at all. I think we should call it the Lake of Shining Waters. Yes, that’s it! That’s a better suited name, don’t you think?”
He shrugs. “Better than Mr. Noh’s pond, I suppose.”
“And who is Mr. Noh?”
“He lives just up that hill,” he answers, gesturing to the great big house with his chin. “He’s got a daughter around your age, ready to graduate next year. Her name’s Hyojung.”
“Wow,” you murmur under your breath, sweeping yourself away in fantasies of Hyojung rushing over to Green Gables and declaring you to be friends. “I hope we’ll get to meet one day. It would be decadent if we could eat near the Lake of Shining Waters.”
“There’s Green Gables, up ahead,” he remarks.
You stretch your neck upwards, carefully balancing yourself on the seat of the buggy to not give Ilnam another fright. A grin stretches from ear to ear when you see the white house dressed with a green-gabled rooftop and window shutters. It sits on acres and acres of land, all with well-maintained grass that you assume Ilnam has been taking care of.
He brings the buggy to a halt when you approach the entrance, and a grey-haired woman dashes out, a scowl on her face when she spots you.
“Seo Ilnam,” she says condescendingly. “What took you so long? And where is the boy?”
Your heart falls when you recollect Ilnam’s earlier questioning to the policeman. Had they not been expecting you?
“No boy,” Ilnam replies gruffly, hopping down from the buggy. “I went to the station and there was only her.”
“No boy?” The woman repeats in exasperation. “There must have been a boy. We requested a boy.”
“No boy. Only her.”
You dig your face into your hands, erupting into sobs. “You don’t want me! I should’ve known that Mrs. Kim made a mistake. Of course you don’t want me! You want a boy!”
The woman clicks her tongue, holding the end of her dress as she comes around to you. She helps you step down and chides you. “Now we will have none of that,” she says, taking your hands away from your face. “We’re not going to turn you away for the night. We’ll bring you back to the station in the morning to get this sorted. What’s your name?”
You tell her despite your mouth feeling like it’s been shoved full of rocks. She guides you inside the house, and you would normally marvel at its beauty, but you’re so caught up in wallowing in your pain that you don’t get a chance. Now you’ll have to return to the orphanage and hear Ara’s speech about how you’ve never been destined for a family.
“My name is Ilkyung,” the woman introduces herself, sitting you down on the long dining table. She pours you a cup of milk. “Tell me exactly how the orphanage sent you here.”
You sniffle, staring down at the cup pitifully. “Mrs. Kim specifically mentioned you requested a farmhand to help around the estate. They decided to send me since I’m one of the older girls there.”
“There wasn’t a boy they could send?”
Your bottom lip quivers. “All the older boys have already aged out, ma’am. The oldest one we have now is only seven years of age.” She swears lightly, shaking her head and sitting across from you. You try to vouch for yourself. “I can be a good farmhand, ma’am, for you and Ilnam. I’m a good cook and I can learn how to work in those fields.”
Ilnam enters the house, giving Ilkyung a look that you can’t quite detect. She stares back at him with narrowed eyes, and you realize they’re having a wordless conversation. It brings a smile to your face.
“It’s exquisite to have a kindred spirit you can speak to without really speaking,” you comment. Both siblings turn their attention to you. “I’ve never seen it before, only read about it. I-It’s nice.”
A few moments of silence passes before Ilkyung sighs. “We’ll eat supper and then I’ll show you to your room for the night. I’ll bring you to Mrs. Park to discuss this ordeal in the morning.”
Your dream of having a home to call yours crumbles around you.
—
Mrs. Park is not a very pleasant woman.
She brushes off Ilkyung’s complaint swiftly. “Ilkyung, I told the orphanage what you directed me. Word for word, line for line. It’s not my fault they sent a girl to your quarters.”
Ilkyung has the patience of a saint, which you quickly learned after she handled your pathetic cries the entire night. She places her hands over your shoulders.
“I understand that, Hwayoung. No one is shifting blame here. I simply want to get the issue corrected with the orphanage.”
You shirk at being referred to as an issue. Mrs. Park exhales, taking a break from cleaning the buckets on her front porch. You don’t even want to ask what used to be contained in them, the smell being enough to ward off your curiosity.
“Well, if you don’t want her, I could use another hand around the house. My girl just gave birth to another son,” Mrs. Park says just as a sharp cry rings from inside the house. A girl slightly older than you stumbles out, hair sticking up in different directions and her clothes in disarray. She pleas for Mrs. Park to take care of the baby upstairs. “No need. Mrs. Seo is offering us a girl who will help.”
You look at Ilkyung with wide eyes and she understands your concern.
“Now, Hwayoung, I didn’t say that we wanted to give her away-”
“Ilkyung,” Mrs. Park scoffs. “Your eagerness to waste my morning is truly astonishing. Either leave the girl here or return to Green Gables. I don’t have the time to write to the orphanage again for you or dawdle while you decide whether you and Ilnam want to keep her.”
Ilkyung smiles tightly. “Have a good rest of your morning, Hwayoung.”
You don’t question Ilkyung’s decision as you travel back to Green Gables. You keep your mouth shut for the first time, perpetually worried she’ll turn the cart around and force you to live with Mrs. Park and her numerous grandchildren.
“Tell me about your time at the orphanage. I would like to learn,” Ilkyung requests as you come up to the Lake of Shining Waters.
“I was dropped off at the steps when I was a baby. They say my father was a bank worker and my mother was a gardener. Don’t you think that’s so romantic? She was probably planting roses when he came by from his shift at the bank,” you murmur happily. “Mrs. Baek says they were as poor as church mice as my father made very little wages. I would like to think we would’ve come across a great fortune if the fever hadn’t taken my mother so poorly. I was only three months old when she passed and my father handed me to the orphanage. I don’t blame him in the slightest — what was the man to do when the love of his life disappeared and he had no coins in his name to take care of their child? Frankly, I just wish she lived long enough for me to remember calling her my mother.”
“I’m sorry she didn’t,” Ilkyung says apologetically, but you beam at her.
“Oh, it’s no worry at all! I know she would have loved me. Mrs. Baek at the orphanage was the one who raised me, and I was taken into another house when I was eight to help a mother raise her children. She had so many twins, three sets of them! It was such a beautiful thing but she didn’t have much time to look after them. I told her firmly that she mustn’t keep having children as it was growing too much, but her husband was always drunk and didn’t take kindly to me.”
“They didn’t treat you well?” She asks, disturbed by the idea.
“They meant to, they really did! I could tell they wanted to treat me well but it wasn’t easy for them to divide up their attention, you see. The babies were always crying and taking up most of the day. They were good people, I just know it.”
Ilkyung swallows at your positivity, holding the reins of the buggy tighter. “And did they put you through school?”
You shrug. “It wasn’t a priority for them, which I understand. I learned to read at the orphanage after the family moved away and decided they didn’t want to keep me. It’s been my favorite pastime when I’m not assigned chores.”
“Well, as long as you’re living under our roof, I’m putting you through your proper studies,” she says definitively.
A spark of hope blooms in your chest. “Oh, does that mean you’re keeping me?” You clasp your fingers together, pinching yourself in case this turns out to be another dream.
She stutters over her reply. “I’m surely not allowing you to stay with Mrs. Park to raise her grandchildren. We will run a test trial for now, as long as you display good manners and listen accordingly. And I won’t have that imagination of yours running wild every second of the day, you must promise to be focused and attentive.”
“Yes, yes, thank you, Ilkyung!” You yell as you launch yourself at her, wrapping her in a firm hug. She gasps at the sudden contact but pats your back assuredly. “I won’t let you down, I promise! I’ll bring you and Ilnam the best grades in school, I swear it.”
She peels you away. “Now don’t promise what you can’t guarantee. We’ll start off small — you’ll help me in the kitchen before assisting Ilnam with the lighter tasks around Green Gables.”
Your dream begins to rebuild itself.
—
You slowly adjust to your new life at Green Gables.
Ilkyung teaches you how to sew in the mornings before you help Ilnam with the livestock in the afternoons. Then you assist Ilkyung with preparing supper in the evenings, allowing you to brush up on your cooking repertoire that you picked up on at the orphanage.
Ilkyung never voices her concerns directly, but you know she’s worried about you attending the local school. You’re coming in quite late in the year, and the students have already grown up with each other and are ready to embark on the next chapter of their lives. To assimilate you, she brings you over for tea at the Noh residence, where you have a direct view of the Lake of Shining Waters.
Mr. Noh is a stout man with a curly mustache. He has a wife and two daughters, who all look like they should be on display at a beauty parlor. Mrs. Noh greets you with a smile, kissing both of Ilkyung’s cheeks.
“It is so nice to see you, you and Ilnam never come around for tea,” she murmurs.
Ilkyung rests a hand on your back. “Apologies for our absence, we’ve been busy with running Green Gables. I wanted to introduce you to our new girl.”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Noh says as she turns to you. Ilkyung fashioned you a new dress just for this occasion, and although the greedy part of you would have liked it to have puffy sleeves, you didn’t put up much of an argument. Mrs. Noh examines you carefully, assessing if you’re the right fit to mingle with her daughter. Ilkyung warned you that the town had certain assumptions when it came to adopting orphans, but you take it in stride. “It is very nice to meet you. Hyojung has been waiting for your arrival.”
Hyojung shyly smiles at you, her hands folded over her stomach properly. Her long black hair reaches her waist, tied up neatly in a giant blue ribbon. Her matching blue dress has the puffy sleeves that you adore, and you try not to sulk at your own frumpy brown dress. Her sister, Chaeyoung, is at least ten years younger as she stares off with a bored look. She’s dressed very similarly to Hyojung, except her ensemble is in pink.
“Why don’t you two take a walk through the gardens?” Hyojung’s mother suggests.
Once you’re outside, Hyojung has a hard time finding the right words to say. You, on the other hand, seem to be saying all the wrong things.
“-I’ve just never had a friend of my own before. It’s odd, I know, but the girls at the orphanage despised me and mocked me endlessly. But I can already tell you’re nothing like them. Do you happen to know what a kindred spirit is?” She shakes her head and you grin. “Ilkyung and Ilnam are kindred spirits. They can sense what each other is thinking without having to say it out loud. Their souls are more attuned to the other, intertwining in this beautiful harmony. I-I’ve never found a kindred spirit of my own, I must confess, but I was hoping it could be you.”
“M-Me?” She stutters, laughing softly. “Oh, I’m not too sure. I’ve never been someone’s kindred spirit before.”
“It’s easy!” You say, taking her hand and leading her to the Lake of Shining Waters. “What do you see when you look out here?”
Hyojung shrugs. “A lake.”
“Not just any lake, the Lake of Shining Waters! See, look at how the sunlight beams across the water and reflects into a million dazzling lights. Doesn’t it make you think of a picnic in the summer, feeling the breeze nip at your face while the birds chirp around you?”
She giggles at you. “That sounds nice.”
“It is nice, Hyojung. And that’s what the lake represents — the happiness you feel when you see the shining waters.”
She purses her lips before looping her arm through yours. “I think we will be great kindred spirits. You should know the hierarchy of the classroom before your first day though. Soeun runs a tight ship and she has a crush on Na Jaemin, so don’t even bother looking in his direction. She can sense it.”
“Who’s Na Jaemin?” You inquire with furrowed eyebrows.
She scoffs. “Who’s Na Jaemin? He’s the most desired guy in our year. Top of the class, good looks, heading off to medical school next year… he’s everything a girl wants. Soeun’s been trying to win his affections since we were children, but it hasn’t really been working out for her.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to stay far from him.”
The Noh family dines you and Ilkyung for the evening before you’re finding your way back to Green Gables. When Ilkyung asks you if you’re getting along with Hyojung, you excitedly relay to her how you’ve finally discovered your kindred spirit. It eases her worries regarding your isolation from the rest of the other students.
You walk arm in arm with Hyojung on your first day, not revealing to her how you stayed up the whole night speculating on the different ways today could go wrong. Ilkyung reminded you over breakfast to hold your tongue and be mindful of when others need to speak their turn.
“I’ll introduce you,” Hyojung whispers to you as you step inside the schoolhouse, hanging up your hats together. “Soeun might make a fuss, but she’ll get used to it.”
The classroom is small, nearly the same size as the dining room of Green Gables. There are sixteen tables total, divided on each side of the room for the girls and the boys. The girls are already huddled into a circle in the middle while the boys throw around a ball in the corner. Each eye turns to you as you enter, and Hyojung squeezes your arm in reassurance.
“Girls, meet our newest member,” Hyojung says as she introduces you to the group. The girls assess you with an inquisitive raising of the eyebrow, and the one with the frilly yellow bow in her hair speaks first.
“We heard you came from the orphanage.”
“Soeun,” Hyojung scolds. “Where have your manners gone?”
“It’s fine,” you say, resting a hand over hers as you watch her scowl at Soeun. “Yes, I was orphaned when I was an infant after my parents passed. But now I live at Green Gables with the Seo’s, and I would much rather focus on the present than the past, don’t you think?”
Soeun narrows her eyes but doesn’t utter another remark about your upbringing. “Anyways, we were just talking about how Mark plans on asking Sookyung if he can walk her home.”
The girls in the circle squeal while one of them blushes beet red. She hits Soeun’s arm playfully and whines in embarrassment.
“And what about you, Soeun? When is Jaemin finally going to ask you out?” Another girl asks.
Soeun waves her off. “We still have time. Don’t you girls worry about me.”
The teacher starts the lesson and you scramble into your seats. Hyojung smiles at you when you occupy the seat next to her, and you offer her a grateful grin in return.
“Today, we will be discussing the history of the late war,” your teacher drawls, his eyes sunken in and bored by the sound of his voice. He begins reciting whatever’s written in the text in his manual while you take notes on your blackboard slate. You hang onto his every word, intending to fulfill your promise to Ilkyung to bring home the best grades in the class.
The local community of mothers was the one who decided whether or not to bring you into the schoolhouse. There were doubts due to you being an orphan and slowing the rest of the students down. Ilkyung attended many meetings to vouch for you, and it relieved some of the members to know you already learned how to read and write. You were set on not only proving them wrong about their initial presumptions, but also showing up at the top of the list compared to your fellow classmates.
When you’re dismissed for lunch, the girls are a giggling mess, curling in on themselves over the stray crumbs dusting the teacher’s mustache. You join in on their fun as you gather around outside, opening your lunch boxes and conversing together. Soeun and Sookyung dance around in a circle, recreating what they believe your teacher gets up to in his after hours.
You chortle as you sit at the end of the line, watching them with gleeful eyes. You’re about to jump up and join them when an apple suddenly rolls in front of you.
“Sorry,” a tender voice apologizes, leaning down to pick up the lonely fruit. Your eyes raise to meet ones that sparkle just like the Lake of Shining Waters. His smile stretches from ear to ear, radiating the most gorgeous features you’ve ever seen in your life. “The boys never watch where they’re throwing-”
“Jaemin,” Soeun murmurs, abruptly ceasing her hopping.
He snaps his head up to look at her as the reality of his name crashes down around you. You scurry away from his figure as if he’s burned you, and he glances back down at you in confusion.
Hyojung senses your cry for help. “Um, girls, perhaps we should head back inside.” She gives them an aggressive nod of her head before they all get her message, following you inside the schoolhouse while leaving Jaemin and Soeun to their own devices.
You fail to recognize Jaemin’s eyes trailing you the entire way, only focused on the fact that you dodged a bullet out there with Soeun. The other girls are whispering to themselves about the possibility of Jaemin and Soeun getting together. When Soeun comes back in with flushed cheeks, she refuses to tell the rest of you what occurred outside. Jaemin floats in shortly after, eyes locked on you. You rapidly dart your gaze away, sitting ramrod straight in your seat.
The day passes by successfully, and you nearly believe you’re in the clear until the last lesson of the day. You’re so excited to recant to Ilkyung about your new friends and your ability to hold in your tongue like you promised. It’s all thwarted when a singular piece of chalk gets thrown at your head.
“Psst,” a voice hisses, and despite only hearing him talk once, you can already guess who it is. The teacher’s back is turned, writing a few arithmetic equations on the board. A couple of the boys chuckle at Jaemin. “Hey, psst.”
Another piece of chalk is flung from across the room. Hyojung gives you a concerned look. You ignore it, drilled in on solving the equation in front of you.
“Hey, princess.”
You’re instantly swept in a flurry of bad memories of Ara taunting you.
“Aw, girls, look at this! The poor princess has her nose in a book again. You can keep reading but no prince is going to jump out and save you.”
“Do you see that, girls? The princess here is dreaming of a big white castle with a family at the end of the rainbow.”
“What’s the matter, princess? Did the big scary monster come to assign you chores?”
Before you can fully register your actions, you find yourself striding to him, bringing your slate down over his head and cracking it in pieces.
“How dare you!”
The entire classroom falls into a deadly silence. The girls are covering their mouths to prevent a gasp from escaping while the boys are snickering to themselves. Your teacher spins around, eyes blazing with fury. He growls out your name.
Before he can reign fire down on you, Jaemin stands up with dust littered in his hair as he says, “It was my fault, sir. I was picking on her.”
“To witness such a temper stem from a pupil of my own astounds me beyond belief. Go stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the day.”
“But sir-”
“And I’ve heard enough from you, Na Jaemin. I expect more from our top student.”
You shamefully spend the rest of the day standing in front of the blackboard. You keep your eyes planted on your feet, curling your fingers into your palm until your nails dig into the skin. When class is eventually released, Hyojung rushes over to you, handing you your book bag. You keep your head held high while you walk away, disregarding Jaemin’s attempts to apologize.
“I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. Let’s not hold grudges.”
You huff and tug on Hyojung’s arm, declining to look in his general direction. Hyojung mumbles your name. “Come on. You can’t be mad at him forever. Jaemin makes fun of all the girls! Soeun’s not even upset with you over it.”
“I shall never forgive Na Jaemin,” you tell her with certainty. “Until the day I die, the iron has entered into my soul where it shall remain forever.”
“Oh, you’re so dramatic.”
—
The school days with Na Jaemin don’t grow any easier.
By the third week, due to you running late from Green Gables, your teacher forced you away from Hyojung and sat you directly next to Jaemin. The boy was kind enough not to pester you, keeping his attention on the lessons at hand. However, every now and then, you often find a tiny heart-shaped candy underneath your arm that only he could leave behind for you. You usually throw them on the ground in front of him and dig your heel into it until it crumbles into powder.
He even manages to hold his top spot in the class with you right below him.
You complain to Ilkyung about it constantly, who does nothing but stare at you fondly. “He is the most aggravating boy I have ever met in my life! Everyone thinks he’s a saint, Ilkyung, but I know better! That Na Jaemin is nothing but a troublemaker out for my blood. He plans to use my sorrow to dangle my failure in front of everyone, I just know it. He’s at home planning my demise as we speak!”
“You’ll do better in your studies if you focus more on your books than the likes of Na Jaemin,” Ilkyung advises with a knowing look in her eye. Ilnam walks in, brushing off the snow starting to come in on his jacket. “Ilnam, tell her how she should be emphasizing her attention in school rather than boys.”
Your jaw drops open. “I do not enjoy your implication! Na Jaemin is not just a boy, he’s… he’s…”
“Mr. Na is a good man,” Ilnam comments, not fully registering Ilkyung’s ask paired with your frustration. “His boy is alright as well from what I’ve heard. Decent head on his shoulders, top of his class, and it would do the town some good to have a well-bred doctor in such close proximity.”
You throw him the most menacing look you can conjure. Ilnam clears his throat.
“B-But of course, he’s nothing compared to you, sweetheart. Smartest girl I’ve ever seen, isn’t that right, Ilkyung?”
Before you can unleash another set of choice words against Na Jaemin, Ilkyung instructs you to help Ilnam sort through the hay in the barn. You pout as you work, imagining all the ways you’re going to study hard enough to beat your enemy.
Ilnam tries again while you’re raking through stacks of hay. “As much as I love you bringing home good grades for us, I hope you’re not losing any sleep for the Na boy.”
You sneer. “He wishes I was.”
Ilnam smiles. “You know, when I was younger, there was a girl my age who didn’t like me very much. She always thought I was too quiet and hiding behind Ilkyung’s coattails. I never understood why she despised me until she got engaged. She told me she wished I was the one who proposed.”
“Oh, Ilnam,” you squeal, clutching your fingers together. “That is so romantic. Did you sweep her off her feet and pick a fresh bouquet of daisies for her? Tell her to leave the other man and run off with you in the sunset?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I told her it was a good idea to marry him. I had to take care of matters at Green Gables after our parents passed, and I had no time to entertain her fantasies. But the point is that she treated me poorly because she didn’t know another way to convey her feelings.”
You furrow your eyebrows, about to question what he could possibly mean by that statement before Hyojung rushes in the barn. She’s panting, holding her chest as she gasps, “Chaeyoung is sick! S-She keeps coughing and can’t breathe and I don’t know what to do! Father and mother have gone into town and there’s no one to call for the doctor.”
You drop your rake and bolt to Hyojung’s side, holding her shaking form. Ilnam is immediately throwing on his coat before mounting one of the horses in the stables.
“He’s going to fetch a doctor,” you say to Hyojung as Ilnam rides off. “We’ve become such kindred spirits that I can read his thoughts. It sounds like Chaeyoung has the croup. What have you tried to cure her?”
Hyojung hiccups between sobs. “I-I don’t know. Our aunt, Nayoung, is in town and she’s opened all the windows to help with C-Chaeyoung’s breathing.”
“You mustn’t forget I used to care for multiple pairs of baby twins. They got croup all the time. Let me find a bottle of ipecac in the house and we’ll head to Chaeyoung straight away.”
Ilkyung yelps when you burst through the door and rifle through the medicine cabinet. “Chaeyoung’s sick with the croup,” you explain to her while Hyojung continues to cry in the doorway. “I’m going over to help and Ilnam’s gone into town to get the doctor. Hyojung’s parents are out having dinner.”
Ilkyung inhales, dusting her hands over her apron as she turns off the stove. “Well, someone needs to inform her parents. I’ll take the buggy.”
As soon as you locate the clear brown bottle, you grab Hyojung’s hand and throw a scarf around your neck. You race towards her house, your boots crunching against the snow as you sprint. You find Chaeyoung releasing weak coughs as she lays on the Noh’s living room sofa. Hyojung’s aunt, Nayoung, hovers over her with a worried expression.
You swiftly get to work as Hyojung clarifies the situation to Nayoung, divulging about your past with caring for small children.
“Hyojung, go boil some more hot water for Chaeyoung. Miss Nayoung, please add more wood to the fire, she’s grown too cold,” you instruct as you twist the cap of the bottle in your hands. You elevate Chaeyoung’s head and pour a few drops of ipecac down her throat. She groans at the taste but you force her to swallow.
The rest of the night is filled with much uncertainty. Hyojung and Nayoung kept to their tasks, with Hyojung serving her sister and Nayoung filling the fireplace with new logs of wood at every given chance. By the time Ilnam returns with the doctor two hours later, the worst of Chaeyoung’s sickness has passed.
You jump up when they enter, rapidly explaining the story to the doctor. He kneels down to check on Chaeyoung’s temperature as you say, “Her cough was getting worse and worse and I had great fear due to the bottle of ipecac running out. I didn’t want to worry the others but I was not certain of her state when I gave the last dose. Luckily, she started to cough up the phlegm immediately afterwards and has been recovering since then.”
When Mr. and Mrs. Noh return with Ilkyung in tow, the doctor swears that if it wasn’t for you, Chaeyoung would have been in a state he’s not sure he could’ve saved her from. Mrs. Noh envelopes you into her arms with a sharp cry, thanking you over and over again for saving her child.
Exhausted beyond belief, you smile and tell her, “It was nothing. I would do anything to help your family.”
Before Ilkyung and Ilnam escort you back home, Nayoung gives you a firm pat on the shoulder. “You’ve done great work here, girl. Please come visit me in the city any time you wish.”
And when you sit at your desk the next day, Jaemin murmurs to you, “I heard what you did for the Noh family. How did you ever think of using the ipecac first?”
Thinking he’s making a show just to point out your flaws, you raise your chin high in the air as you reply, “I’ve had experience with the croup before. Many children in the orphanage caught it during this time of year.”
He grins. “Well, I think you’re brilliant. I certainly would’ve never thought of it first.”
Your shoulders deflate as you let your walls down slightly. “Really? But you’re going to be a doctor.”
He winks. “I won’t say anything if you don’t.”
You clear your throat and return your attention to your blackboard, ignoring the way your stomach erupts in butterflies.
—
Your first Christmas morning with the Seo’s is perhaps the most delightful holiday you’ve ever had.
Ilkyung and you have been cooking for what feels like a week, preparing to host the Noh’s. The morning, however, is just for you, Ilkyung, and Ilnam.
Although Ilkyung warned you that they may not have the funds for gifts this year, Ilnam hands you a beautifully wrapped box. You blink at him with wide eyes from your spot on the floor in the living room as they sit on the couch.
He smiles and nods sheepishly. “A C-Christmas present for you. I know you’ve never had one before.”
“Oh, Ilnam,” you wheeze, feeling as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest. “You didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”
You unbox the gift, slowly peeling back the wrapping paper before gasping when you see what lays inside. The dress is the same shade of brown Ilkyung uses to sew your current wardrobe, but it has the gorgeous silk lining you see in Hyojung’s dresses with a fanned out skirt and a lacy ruffle neckline. The sleeves are the best part, puffy and pleasing to the eye.
You burst out in tears, alarming Ilnam. “Do you not like it?”
“Like it? I can never thank you enough for this. I’ve never owned something so exquisite in my life. I really do believe I could never be happier than I am right now.”
“It’s a wonderful gift, even if it did cost more than expected,” Ilkyung says, raising an eyebrow at Ilnam. “Dry up your tears, child. The Noh’s will be here soon.”
The Noh’s arrive in the middle of you hugging Ilnam to death, thanking him over and over for his gift. Ilkyung chides you as she pries you off of him, lecturing for you to say your proper greetings. Once the adults are off setting the breakfast table, you squeal to Hyojung about your new dress.
“That is perfect,” she replies with sparkling eyes. “Because Aunt Nayoung was here a week ago and she left you a gift of her own.”
“What? For me?”
Hyojung passes you a ravishing pair of silk-covered heels, pointed at the toes and embroidered with a soft lace. You’ve never seen a singular piece of footwear look so fine.
“Hyojung, my gosh…”
“I know, aren’t they so elegant? She wanted to thank you for all your help with Chaeyoung. She said she felt quite useless until you arrived, and she’s never seen someone so brave,” she giggles. “They’ll couple so nicely with your new dress.”
“I’ve never been given so many cherished items at once. I’ll remember this day forever, I swear it to you.”
The rest of your Christmas afternoon goes off without a hitch. Chaeyoung is teetering with excitement, a contrast from her fragile form weeks ago. Ilnam shows Mr. Noh the horses in the stables while Ilkyung teaches Mrs. Noh her pie recipe. You and Hyojung converse gleefully in your room, discussing your plans after schooling.
“My mother wants to marry me off so I can run my own household,” Hyojung remarks, balancing her chin in her palm as she stares out your bedroom window. “I only hope I marry a man as good as my father. He doesn’t have to be handsome. I just want him to be kind.”
“I would never allow an evil man to wed my kindred spirit,” you declare while you sit criss crossed on your bed. You chew on your lower lip. “Will you really not pursue your studies any further?”
“Not all of our parents are as open-minded as Ilkyung and Ilnam. My mother’s raised me a certain way since I was a baby, I hardly think she’ll relent on her ideals now.”
“I’m not one to sit idly by and let you become engrossed in embroidery,” you huff. “You know what? We’ll start a book club. It’s about time the women in this town got their fair share of education.”
“That’s a splendid idea! Mother barely lets me rifle through our history books and- Is that Na Jaemin?”
Your head snaps up. She looks out the window, squinting slightly. “My word, that really is him.”
You dash down the stairs, and something deep in your chest flutters when you see Jaemin standing in the doorway, handing Ilkyung a fresh plate of cookies. “They’re my mother’s recipe,” he says with a grin. “I’m not as good of a baker as she was, but I didn’t want to come over empty handed for the holidays.”
“These are just lovely, Jaemin. Thank you,” Ilkyung says before gesturing for him to come inside. “It must have been a long walk for you, I’ll make you a cup of hot cocoa.”
You and Hyojung stand at the bottom of the staircase facing the door, wide eyed at the sight of him. He’s wearing a turtleneck green jumper, paired with black slacks and a long heavy coat. You didn’t even know that he knew where you lived, but you suppose in a town as small as this one, it isn’t that difficult to figure out. He discards his boots by the door and unwraps the scarf from his neck, beaming when he sees you.
“Merry Christmas, ladies,” he greets. “Have you been staying warm?”
At your sudden bout of silence, Hyojung pipes up, “Merry Christmas, Jaemin. What brings you all the way to Green Gables?”
“My father and I always bake cookies and hand them out to our neighbors. It’s a Christmas tradition,” he shares.
Hyojung nudges you in the back, ripping you from your daydreams as you state, “But your house is miles from here. Farther than the Lake of Shining Waters and the school.”
“The Lake of Shining Waters?”
You purse your lips. “It’s a nickname.”
He nods as a faint blush colors his cheeks. “W-Well, the walk was good for me. Cleared my mind and everything.”
Hyojung’s eyebrow quirks up. “You’ve never come by my house to give my family cookies.”
“That’s because- That’s, um-”
“Girls,” Ilkyung interrupts, laying a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder and handing him a cup of hot cocoa. “Don’t pester our guest. We’re very grateful for his decision to trek over here.”
You help her prepare the table settings for supper. Mrs. Noh happily displays her roasted chicken in the center while Ilkyung fills the empty space with her side dishes. Ilnam and Mr. Noh sit at the heads of the table and you take your seat next to Hyojung, startled when Jaemin immediately slides into the spot next to you.
“What are you doing?” You hiss lowly at him.
He blinks twice. “Sitting?”
Mrs. Noh claps her hands to gather everyone’s attention, freeing Jaemin from your inevitable wrath. “I want to say a huge thank you to Ilkyung and Ilnam for allowing us into their home this Christmas. And of course, I’m indebted forever to their dear one, who saved our Chaeyoung from her terrible illness,” she says with her hands clasped together, glancing at you with shining eyes. You smile softly at her. “We would have been in such a wretched heap of despair if it wasn’t for your brilliance.”
Jaemin begins to clap and the rest of the table follows in pursuit. You laugh shyly, shaking your head at their gratitude. You look up to see Jaemin smirking proudly at you and you swallow nervously, wondering what you could have possibly done in your previous life to deserve such acclaim from him.
“Please, it was honestly a return of affection for everything Hyojung’s given me since I arrived at Green Gables. I could have never believed I would arrive in this town and make a home. It’s been a dream come true.”
The table smiles at your statement, and you catch Ilnam wiping his tears away out of the corner of your eye. Ilkyung jokes for everyone to start eating before the food is covered in tears.
While you’re dining, Jaemin quietly asks you, “What type of field are you striving for after school? I think you would be a great addition to the local college here.”
You put away your supposed hatred of him for this one exchange. “I don’t think it’s in our budget right now,” you say, recalling Ilkyung’s earlier remark about your dress. “But I did want to pursue teaching, and try to write if I have the time.”
“They’re always giving scholarships away. With your grades and talent, I’d be shocked if they didn’t give it to you on a silver platter.”
You cough awkwardly at his blatant praise. You try to divert the subject away from you. “D-Did your father not want to join us for supper?”
The question has his expression falling slightly. He pokes at the chicken on his plate. “He’s under the weather. Didn’t want to bring the mood down, that’s all.”
Hyojung pokes at your side. “If you’re done flirting with Na Jaemin, can you please pass me the potatoes?”
You glare at her, ignoring her teasing giggle.
After supper, you say your goodbyes and escort the Noh’s to the door. Hyojung kisses your cheek, making you swear to start the book club as soon as the holidays are finished. Jaemin trails behind them, wrapping his scarf back around his neck.
“It really was a tasty dinner, thank you for having me,” he says to Ilkyung and shakes Ilnam’s hand. He swivels around to you. “And I hope you like the cookies. I can make more if you ever need it.”
“O-Okay.”
When Ilkyung shuts the door, she throws you a suggestive look. You scoff and occupy yourself with cleaning the table.
“Come join us in the living room. We have something to share with you.”
When you gather together, they stand you in front of a large book perched on a stand in the corner of the room. It’s flipped open to a page full of names, with Ilkyung and Ilnam’s being the last ones.
“We’ve been speaking with the orphanage these past few weeks,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face. You inhale at the revelation. “And finally got your adoption paperwork settled. This book has been passed down in the Seo generation for centuries. Every new child signs their name when they come of age. We saved a spot for you right here.”
She points at the blank area below Ilkyung’s name. Your eyes well with tears, overwhelmed by the thought of being accepted into their family. Ilnam chuckles, patting your head affectionately.
“Go on, sweetheart. Seal the deal.”
As you shakily pick up the quill pen and inscribe your name, Ilkyung and Ilnam wrap you in a warm hug. It’s then that you officially decide you’ll never have a better Christmas.
—
“You have to be the one. There’s no way I’m getting in that boat!”
“You’re such a coward, Soeun.”
“Then why don’t you try it, Sookyung?”
“You’re all ruining the vision,” you scold, gripping a handful of daisies. “We’re supposed to be girls who have been widowed by our one true love. We’ve succumbed to our tragedy, accepting our fate by floating out into the river, where the Earth will decide how to dispose of our bodies.”
Ever since Soeun’s uncle passed away shortly after the new year and the poem you’re reading for your book club discusses the fate of a widowed bride, you’ve all become obsessed with glamorizing death. In the poem, the girl sealed her devastating fate by climbing into a boat, holding a bouquet of flowers, and drifting away into the night. She was never heard from or seen again.
The girls insisted on recreating the moment, leading you to the lake. Hyojung borrowed a small canoe from her father and Sookyung picked the flowers from her mother’s yard. However, once you got to the final step, all of them chickened out of actually playing the role of the widow.
“I’ll be her,” you proclaim, and they exhale in relief. “But you must say the lines, and with fervor. It’s only right that we recreate the scene exactly. Wait for me at the other side of the river.”
With help from Hyojung, you step into the canoe, laying down as you rest your hands over your chest. You close your eyes when Soeun begins the rehearsed dialogue.
“Sister, farewell forever,” she murmurs, throwing dried flower petals over your form.
“Farewell, sweet sister.”
“And she lay as though she smiled,” Hyojung finishes, giving a small push to the canoe.
You start floating down the river, exactly like the poem describes. You marvel at the solitude, listening to the birds chirping in your ear. It’s all straight out of a novel if you’ve ever read it, but it’s abruptly disrupted by a stream of water soaking your dress.
You shriek, eyes popping wide open as you sit up. Water continues to fill the boat, progressing fast enough where you understand you won’t possibly make it to the other side. As you come up to the nearby bridge, you quickly grasp the foothold, holding onto it tightly as the canoe sinks.
You hear the girls begin to scream loudly when they don’t see you return. You ponder on if they’ll get help and save you from this uncomfortable experience, but another boat slowly comes up beside you.
Na Jaemin says your name with amusement. “I must say, I did not expect to find you here on my Sunday afternoon.”
You roll your eyes. “Are you going to just sit there or help me like a gentleman?”
He laughs before extending his hand. You take it gratefully, stepping into his boat. You sit across from him, drenched from head to toe. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t utter a single word to him.
“So you’re not going to explain-”
“No,” you gruffly reply. “But I am very much obliged to you.”
He sighs. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to me. Can’t we be friends already? You know I was only joking with you on your first day. I didn’t mean to mock you by calling you a princess, even if I think you look exactly like one. Let’s forgive and forget, please.”
You stare at his hopeful countenance, remembering how kind he was to you over the holidays. You also craved his cookies for weeks after, resisting the urge to walk over to his house and ask for another batch.
“Fine. Friends. And friends only.”
He beams at you, grinning widely. He begins to row the boat back to shore, and you avoid his inquisitive gaze. The girls are in hysterics when you arrive, pulling you out and hugging you tightly.
“We thought you had drowned and died,” Hyojung sobs into your shoulder. “It wasn’t romantic at all! Nothing like the poem.”
You assure them with gentle pats, and Jaemin anchors the boat to the dock. Soeun perks up when she sees him.
“Oh Jaemin, were you the one who saved her? A true knight in shining armor, indeed!”
He nods. “I’m happy to help.” The girls move to take you away and leave Jaemin and Soeun on their own, but he clears his throat to stop you. He addresses you by calling your name before questioning, “B-Before you go, I wanted to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s Day.”
Hyojung and Sookyung’s jaws drop while Soeun acts as if someone just stabbed her in the back.
You stutter. “I- That’s- I’m not-”
“She’s going to my Aunt Nayoung’s annual Valentine’s party. You should come too, Jaemin. It’s at her big mansion in the city,” Hyojung invites.
You shoot her a bewildered look while he replies, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t be imposing?”
“Of course not. She would be happy to have you.”
He smirks. “Perfect. I’ll be there. Now if you ladies don’t mind, I have to get back to fishing.”
When he drifts away in his boat, Soeun stomps away from you, grumbling to herself. Sookyung throws you an apologetic look before following after her. You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.
“What was that?” You bark at your best friend. “How dare he ask me that in front of everyone like- like-”
“Like he likes you?” Hyojung finishes.
You glare at her, still soaked from the lake. “No. And how could you invite him to your aunt’s party? You know I haven’t even asked Ilkyung if I can go yet.”
“She’ll let you, come on,” Hyojung insists as she helps you trudge back to Green Gables. “If not, I’ll have my mother convince her. Plus, how can you not see how head over heels Jaemin is for you? That boy looks at you constantly and Christmas? Don’t even get me started. His house is miles from here, there was no other reason for him to stop by than to see you.”
“I won’t let you go on any longer. I have never harbored any affection for Na Jaemin and I never will. Have you forgotten about my dreams, Hyojung? I don’t want to be the wife and mother. I want to write and teach and earn enough income so that Ilkyung and Ilnam can retire comfortably.”
“Silly girl,” she murmurs as she nudges you playfully. “You can have all of that and Na Jaemin too.”
When you arrive back to Green Gables, Ilkyung gasps in shock as Hyojung escorts you in. “What in heavens have you done to yourself, child?”
You narrow your eyes as she grabs a towel to dry you off. “Hyojung got me into a giant mess.”
“Don’t listen to her, Ilkyung,” Hyojung says. “What she meant to say is that my Aunt Nayoung invited us to her Valentine’s party next weekend. Could we please go together? My parents will be tagging along, and Aunt Nayoung already approved of her staying for the weekend.”
A worried expression falls over Ilkyung’s face as she swaddles you in one of Ilnam’s jackets. “I’m not too sure. Your parents will be there the whole time?”
“Yes,” Hyojung confirms. “I won’t take my eyes off her, I promise.”
Ilkyung exhales. “I suppose you are old enough…”
“I really don’t have to go, Ilkyung, if you think I shouldn’t-”
Hyojung pinches your forearm and you squeal. She smiles at Ilkyung.
“I’ll come pick her up next weekend!”
—
Ilnam starts to cry when you walk down the steps of Green Gables, wearing the ensemble gifted to you on Christmas.
“Oh, please don’t cry,” you say, watching as he blows his nose into his handkerchief.
“He’s a big teddy bear for his daughter,” Ilkyung remarks with an affectionate head shake. She swipes a light pink powder over your cheeks. “Be on your best behavior for Hyojung’s aunt. And I want to hear all about your adventures when you return.”
You ride with the Noh family in their huge buggy to Nayoung’s estate. It’s as lavish as Hyojung described, with massive gardens and towering columns. Hyojung told you on the way that her aunt never married, settling by herself in her big house. She was also very fickle and quick to anger, which is why Hyojung guesses she’s chosen to be alone for the rest of her life.
“There you are,” Nayoung mumbles as she walks down her long hallway to greet you at the door. Her cane taps loudly against the wood flooring. “Kept me waiting long enough.”
“Sorry, sister,” Mr. Noh says, offering her a kiss on the cheek.
She waves him off. “Nothing to do about it now. Suyeon will show you to your rooms. The party begins in an hour.”
You and Hyojung yelp joyously when you’re placed in the same room. You jump on top of the bed in a massive giggling fit.
You look at her mischievously. “What if tonight’s the night you find your dashing suitor? I can picture it now — the clock will strike midnight while you two are dancing in your own little world. Nayoung will tell you the party’s over but he won’t be as willing to part from you. He’ll drop down on one knee right there and demand for your hand in marriage.”
“You’ve been driven to lunacy,” she says, tickling your sides as you erupt in laughter. “Pure lunacy. Nayoung would never invite that many men close to our age. Her friends are more of the decrepit type, standing on their last good leg. I believe the only viable suitor attending this party will be Na Jaemin.”
You scoff, pushing her away. “I still cannot fathom the reason why you invited him.”
“You have to dance with him if he asks.”
“I will do nothing of the sort, Noh Hyojung!” You heave, appalled by her pronouncement. “Just because I agreed to be friends with him does not mean I will follow him down the aisle. He’ll probably get wed to a sensible, well-bred girl with a massive fortune to her name. It seems rightfully in character for him.”
She catches the forlorn look in your eye. “You’re jealous! You’re jealous of a girl who might not even exist.”
“Not true!”
“So true!”
“And what might you ladies be discussing here?”
At the sound of Nayoung’s voice, you both spring up from the bed, smoothing out the fabric of your dresses. She analyzes you with an uptick of her eyebrow.
Hyojung stammers, “O-Oh, nothing of importance, Aunt Nayoung.”
“You better run downstairs. The guests will be arriving soon,” she says. Hyojung scuttles off and you shadow behind her, but Nayoung stops you with the tapping of her cane. “I was delighted to hear your mother allowed you to come today.”
You graciously smile. “I was thankful to be invited, Miss Nayoung, and I must express my appreciation for the gorgeous pair of shoes you sent me for Christmas. I’ve never owned something more divine.”
“You have a brilliant mind in here,” she says, knocking lightly on your temple. “I hope Ilnam isn’t treating you like my son is with his daughters. A girl with your brains should be more than a housewife.”
“I plan on a higher education, ma’am, if the fates will allow. A scholarship would be the only way I could afford to go,” you reveal. “Ilkyung and Ilnam pour every ounce of themselves into maintaining Green Gables and selling off necessities to the market in town. They didn’t exactly plan to adopt an orphan girl and pay for her schooling.”
“Easy solution then. I’ll pay for your schooling.”
“W-What?”
Her expression shifts into something more stern. “I have a large fortune and no nieces to spend it on. Hyojung and Chaeyoung will be betrothed to good families and I want to make sure you are taken care of. I’ve never seen someone so young step up to such a big challenge like you did that night. It should be rewarded.”
“Oh, Miss Nayoung, I really can’t-”
“Protest all you want, dear. It won’t change my mind. Now get downstairs and dance with that boy you’re so keen about.”
The party is already in full swing downstairs. Most of the guests have arrived, chatting avidly to one another over their glasses of champagne. You spot Hyojung in the corner, attempting to keep Chaeyoung under control. Then, as soon as you reach the end of the staircase, Jaemin walks in.
He’s wearing a black suit and tie, handing off his coat to the worker nearby. You inhale, slowly making your way across the room. The bottom of your dress drags over the floor and you scan your puffy sleeves out of the corner of your eye, verifying that they are indeed still there.
When you land in front of him, his jaw drops open. “W-Wow. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you reply curtly, trying not to show how much his statement affects you. “You don’t look half as bad yourself.”
He glances down at his ensemble before chuckling. “Thanks. W-Will you save me a dance later?”
You swallow. “Sure. That’s what friends do, right?”
He smiles. “Yeah. That’s what friends do.”
When you try to catch your breath at the refreshment table, Hyojung eyes you in a superior manner. “I thought you said you wouldn’t accept a dance with Na Jaemin if he asked?”
“I recommend keeping your smug comments to yourself, Noh Hyojung.”
A few of Nayoung’s friends request a dance with you, only being able to sway slightly back and forth due to their arthritis. The older women inquire about your studies, and some of them question you regarding your previous life at the orphanage. You even observe Hyojung speaking to a young gentleman out of the corner of your eye. A blush spreads across her cheeks the longer they converse, and the red hue only deepens when he takes her out on the dance floor.
“Ready for our dance?”
You nearly spit out the contents of your punch when Jaemin appears in front of you. He’s holding a singular rose, half-shy as he extends it to you. You’re about to accept it when he breaks off the stem, tucking the flower behind your ear and admiring you. Your face grows warm underneath his touch.
You take his hand and rest your palm on his shoulder, ignoring the way your heart pounds in your chest when he wraps an arm around your waist. The string of the violin fills your ears as you twirl around the ballroom with him.
“I wanted to thank you for saving me down by the lake,” you say to him, lost in his unrelenting stare. “I wasn’t as appreciative as I should have been that day, and I acknowledge that. I probably would have been left hanging on that bridge until one of the girls had the sense to call someone for help. Then I really would’ve gotten in trouble with Ilkyung.”
He laughs, giddy as he spins you around. “It was my pleasure, really. There haven’t been many days since your arrival that you’ve asked me for help. I cherish those moments more than anything.”
“Why are you so nice to me? I’ve given you nothing but grief since I arrived at Green Gables, yet your enthusiasm has never wavered.”
“I like you, is that so hard to believe?”
His eyes pierce through yours and you start to feel that pull you’ve read in your romance novels. A string of fate ties your heart to his, urging you closer to the man you once vowed to hate. The looming thought of grades and graduation slip from your mind as the jabbering of the crowd fades away. His gaze flickers down to your mouth, and you find yourself leaning in-
A body abruptly slams into yours and you gasp, clinging onto the lapels of Jaemin’s suit to ground yourself. An elderly man apologizes to you for his clumsiness, but the moment between you and Jaemin has already passed. You scurry away from him, trying to calm the adrenaline spiking through your veins.
“I-I should go check on Hyojung,” you murmur, wiping the sweat from your brow.
“Yes, o-of course,” he stutters, quite pink in the cheeks himself. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Na Jaemin.”
—
“I can’t look! Please, just seal my monstrous fate and allow the Earth to swallow me whole. It’s my destiny, and I should very well accept it at this point.”
“I’ve never met another soul as dramatic as you,” Hyojung says with a roll of her eyes. She holds your letter between her fingers, and you shut your eyes in fear of its contents. “We all know you’re a shoe in for the girls’ college. I don’t know why you insist on giving yourself such a fright.”
“Just open it, Hyojung. Tell me if my fortune ties me to a state of devastation.”
She breaks open the seal, fanning out the paper in front of her. She scrutinizes the first few lines before jumping up and down, her shrieks echoing throughout the schoolyard.
“You did it! You got in!”
The rest of the girls circle around you, laughing and squealing at your victory. Tears fill your eyes, running down your cheeks in happiness. You had been waiting for the results for weeks after your entrance exam. You walked in with confidence after learning you secured first place in class, skimming by Jaemin with half a point higher.
“Congratulations,” Soeun says. She forgave you concerning the Jaemin incident once Lee Donghyuck began showing an interest in her. Since then, you’ve speculated that she’s even forgotten Jaemin’s name. “I think you’ll be one of the first girls to attend college from our town in years!”
Mark approaches your group with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and Sookyung straightens her posture at the sight of him. “Hey guys,” he says with a timid smile. “Happy last day of classes.”
“Oh Mark, do tell us where Na Jaemin has gone. We must share the news of his so-called rival,” Hyojung teases, and you elbow her playfully.
“You didn’t hear?”
Your merry expressions falter at his somber tone. Sookyung speaks up, voicing the question you’re all dreading to ask.
“Hear what?”
“Jaemin’s father passed away last night. He was sick for a long time, but was trying to hold on until graduation.”
Your stomach drops at the news. Hyojung immediately glances at you in concern. Soeun and Sookyung gasp, and you realize no one actually knew how ill Jaemin’s father was.
You excuse yourself from the group, dashing to Jaemin’s house as fast as you can. He lives the furthest out of all your classmates, but you’re determined to reach his place before sundown. A nagging voice in the back of your head scolds you for not checking in on him. Another part of you grapples with the idea that he’s been harboring this grief with himself for years.
When you knock on his front door, you panic slightly. What if you were completely crossing a line and he didn’t want to see you? What if he was in the middle of his mourning period and you were disrupting his reflection time?
As soon as he opens the door, you blurt out, “I’m sorry.”
He’s startled when he sees you, but a kind smile spreads across his face. “So you heard,” he remarks, his eyes baggy and red.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry, Jaemin. I had no idea he was that sick.”
He gestures for you to step inside. His home smells like him, as odd as that sounds coming from you. The scent of pine needles and embers from the fire waft through your nose. His dining room is small, having nothing but a long table and a kitchen with dirty dishes stacked high in the sink. Stacked boxes fill the hallway leading to what you assume used to be his father’s bedroom.
He rifles through the fridge while you take a seat at the table. “Apologies about the mess. I’ve been trying to sort through dad’s stuff over the past year but it hasn’t been easy.”
“It’s fine, you don’t need to apologize to me,” you say as he pours you a cup of orange juice.
“So did you get your results yet? Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” he chuckles.
“Oh, it’s not that important-”
“Not that important?” He scoffs, sliding into the seat across from you. “You’ve been working for this all year. Of course it’s important. And you finally accomplished your goal of getting to first place.”
All of those end objectives seem insignificant now compared to the problems Jaemin’s been dealing with. But he stares at you like he wants nothing more than to hear about your results, forcing you to reveal, “I got in.”
He slams his hand down on the wood table cheerfully, rejoicing loudly. “That’s wonderful! I knew you would get in, I never doubted it for a second.”
“Jaemin, I really am awfully remorseful over what happened to your father. To think that we are celebrating my achievements while you have been going through this all alone-”
He speaks your name firmly. “I have known for years that my father would one day pass. It is a tragedy, yes, but I know how hard you’ve been striving for this and I’m not going to let it overshadow your moment. Please, for today, can we focus on you? I can mourn my father all I want at his funeral tomorrow.”
You hesitantly agree to his terms and somehow find yourself roped into an ordeal of teaching him how to bake Ilkyung’s famous peach pie. You snigger when he continuously pours too much flour into the bowl and cuts his hand trying to slice the peaches.
“They say you’re brilliant in the classroom but I guess no one’s seen you outside of your studies,” you joke, pulling stray flecks of flour out of his hair.
He narrows his eyes at you before throwing a handful of flour at your face, causing you to squeal at his attack. You look at him with your jaw dropped open while he snickers at your predicament. You reach into his bowl of peaches, smushing them in your palm and launching the mess into his shirt.
You giggle. “Oops.”
He gapes at you before his kitchen becomes the site of a chaotic food fight. Eggs and butter splatter against the walls and flour coats the kitchen floor. You know Ilkyung’s going to give you a hard time when you return home about the stains in your dress, but you’re feeling so euphoric that you can’t be bothered to care.
You find a way to combine your leftover ingredients into a pie, and Jaemin takes it out of the brick oven when it’s nicely browned at the top. He hands you a fork to taste, and when you both dig your utensils in and scoop it into your mouth, your faces twist in horror.
“That’s awful!”
“What in God’s name did we put in there?”
You take one look at each other, with you seeing his hair covered in flour and specks of eggshells painted on his shirt. He finds you with dripping egg yolk in your hair and dried peaches clinging to the skirt of your dress. You burst out in laughter, clinging to your stomachs as you double over.
“Y-You look l-like we put you i-in the oven!” You pant, cheeks hurting from your hysterics.
“Me? You look like you rolled into a bakery on the wrong side of town!”
When your giggling fit dies down, he flings you a pensive expression. “Promise me we’ll hang out this summer before we leave. I-I don’t want to lose touch with you as soon as we go to college.”
You grin. “I don’t want that either. I promise to hang out with you all summer.”
His vision drifts down to your lips, and you’re thrown back to Valentine’s Day, when you almost kissed him. There’s nothing stopping you now, and the silence of the house surrounds you.
“Jaemin,” you murmur, and his hand snakes around your middle, pulling you to his body as his mouth envelops yours.
Kissing is much more sensual than you originally thought. The books you read describe it as a slow, languid action with enough time to breathe. You discover that’s not true at all as Jaemin backs you up against the table, lifting your hips onto the wood. He rests his palms on both sides of your legs as his tongue swipes over yours. You moan into his mouth, tangling your fingers through his hair as you let him devour you.
Your conscience screams at you that this is not a good idea, but the longer you feel Jaemin’s hands on you, the longer your common sense is muted.
His fingers hike up your dress, exposing your bare legs for him to view. He kisses down your jawline until his teeth graze your neck.
His hands grip the inside of your thighs as you release a breathy, “We shouldn’t.”
He shushes you gently. “Don’t think about anything else. No grades or college or parents. Just you and me.”
You empty your mind per his request, closing your eyes as you savor his hands freely roaming your body. He tugs down your undergarments before unbuckling his own set of trousers. A part of you is terrified by the act of sex, only having seen explicit diagrams in medical journals. But you also trust Jaemin and you understand the boy would never hurt you willingly.
You chew on your lower lip when he unsheathes himself. You’ve never encountered the opposite sex’s naked lower half before, but his cock stands proudly, longer than several inches and thicker than you imagined. His tip is red and leaking, desperately asking for attention. He wraps a hand around his base and lines himself up to your entrance.
“It’s going to hurt,” he warns, analyzing you carefully. “I’ve read it doesn’t always feel good for women, and I apologize about that.”
You smile shyly. “It’s okay. I trust you.”
Fire blazes underneath your skin as he pushes into you. The pain is excruciating but you clench your jaw and power through it, not wanting to ruin this moment with him. He distracts you with kisses, lips intertwining as he slides into you inch by inch.
When he bottoms out inside you, you swear you’ve never felt more full. It’s powerful — the way he towers over you in this moment yet subtly ensures you that you’re in complete control of the situation. His eyes search yours in assurance, finding nothing but a reflection of lust and hunger.
You hold him close as he thrusts into you, whimpers spilling from your mouth at the sharp spike of pain. “What can I do to make it better?” He questions, groaning lowly. “I wish you could feel how I do right now.”
“I-I don’t know.”
He tries different angles, scattering love bites across your neck, but it isn’t until his hands wander down to your core and circle around an area that has you gasping.
“Here?” He asks, pressing his thumb down harder over your clit. You squeak and nod, the pain shifting into blinding satisfaction.
It's the combined chaos of Jaemin rutting against you while you grind down on his hand, chasing your highs together. The unfamiliar sensation has your head spinning, and the pent up frustration in your stomach begins to unravel.
You whine his name. “I feel- I feel-”
“It’s okay,” he soothes, sensing your panic. “I’m right here, it’s okay.”
You dig your nails into his broad shoulders, yanking him close to you as you gush around his cock. The heightened pleasure leaves you a mewling mess, moaning and whimpering into his ear as you bury your head into his neck. He swiftly pulls out of you, jerking at his length until he spills white over your thighs.
Clarity strikes you. You blink away the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, registering the consequences of your actions. You push him away, startling him as you locate your undergarments.
“What’s wrong? What are you doing?”
You shake your head, redressing yourself as tears sting your eyes. “We shouldn’t have done that! We’re going off to college soon and we’re not even together-”
“Then let’s be together,” he states, frowning as you jump off the table. “I want to be with you, I thought I’ve made myself clear. You’re the only one for me.”
“Jaemin, don’t.”
His expression turns sour. “So what? You’re going to pretend that this hasn’t happened? I love you! What’s so wrong about us being together? I was ready to marry you yesterday!”
“Stop it,” you wheeze, combing down your hair in an attempt to regain your composure. “Jaemin, just stop it. You’re not supposed to marry me. You’re supposed to wed a beautiful girl from the city, a well-bred woman with a good head on her shoulders. I’m supposed to finish my schooling and help Ilkyung and Ilnam with Green Gables. I’m not destined to become a housewife.”
“No one’s asking you to! Do you really think that low of me to believe I would request for you to give up your future to stay at home?”
You rush to the door, wrenching it open and dashing down the steps of his home. He calls after you the entire way but you keep your feet moving, not stopping until you’ve run across the town and to Green Gables.
Later, when Ilkyung scolds you for the state of your dress and you rid yourself of the evidence of your passion between your legs, you vow to never accept a proposal from Na Jaemin.
—
“I can’t believe you’re married.”
Soeun smirks as she twirls in a circle, the train of her dress eagerly following behind her. “I know!” She remarks in a high-pitched giggle. “Oh truly, girls, I hope the rest of you experience this kind of happiness someday. You deserve it.”
Hyojung side eyes you with a look that says, Can you believe she just said that to us?
Donghyuck proposed to Soeun shortly after graduation, and due to his bride’s eagerness and her parents' insistence, they were wed only a month later in her backyard. Soeun was over the moon, corralling the three of you into wedding planning for most of the summer. You assisted with every detail, from the flowers down to the flavor of the cake.
The wedding party also acted as a pseudo farewell gathering for you, as you leave for the girls’ college in the city the following day. Hyojung was in shambles over it, pleading for you not to bring it up until reality finally strikes her.
“Oh look, there’s Jaemin,” Sookyung murmurs, and the statement has your blood running cold. You all raise your heads to see him across the garden, a cup of tea in his hand as he speaks to Soeun’s cousins. “Why, I haven’t seen him since his father’s funeral. He must have been secluding himself since graduation.”
“Can you blame him? You know his father didn’t leave him much in his will. Jaemin was probably working all summer to put himself through college,” Soeun says.
You look away in shame while Hyojung eyes you warily. You’ve kept a tight lip regarding the subject of Na Jaemin, leading her to believe something occurred after the end of term. You never confirmed her speculation, mortified by your actions.
Jaemin wrote you a letter everyday since your entanglement, prompting Ilkyung and Ilnam to raise their eyebrows every time they returned from town with a stack of letters. You never replied to him, afraid of encouraging his fantasies of you ending up together.
“I should go,” you state as Jaemin’s consistent presence makes you wary. “It really was a lovely ceremony, Soeun. I have to help Ilkyung with packing up the rest of my belongings.”
Hyojung begins to tear up at the mention of your departure, and you roll your eyes and pat her back teasingly.
“I will see you tomorrow before I leave,” you laugh, and she grumbles as she wipes away her tears.
You say your goodbyes to the rest of the party, exiting the gardens and locating the shed where they’ve kept the buggys. You find Ilnam’s old horse, giving him a soft pet to his snout and untangling his reins.
Before you can climb in, a voice hollers out, “You look beautiful.”
You purse your lips. “Thank you.”
His front presses against your back and you inhale at the close proximity. He swipes your hair away from your neck, nudging his nose against your skin. You tightly grip the reins in your hands, knowing you should get inside and steer far away from him.
“Jaemin,” you say in warning.
His hand draws around your waist, playing with the ribbons of your corset. “I’ve dreamt of you every night, thinking about you when my mind gets too greedy. Do you think about me too?”
“I leave for the girls’ college tomorrow,” you say through gritted teeth, trying hard to contain your desire. “And my thoughts haven’t changed. We can’t be together.”
“I heard Hyojung’s engaged to Lee Jeno. You don’t think less of her for wanting to marry, do you?”
“Of course I don’t,” you bite back. “But this is different. You know it’s different.”
“Tell me that you think about me too. I need to hear it,” he mumbles as he mouths kisses over your skin.
Your heart beats in your chest rapidly. “I never wanted to make you care for me so. I kept away so you wouldn’t.”
He sighs at your stubborn nature. “The medical school’s accepted me for their fall term.”
You spin around at his revelation. Pride flutters in your chest. “Oh, Jaemin, that’s wonderful!”
He rests his forehead against yours, clutching your hands. “I’m sorry for all the letters over the summer. I only wanted to show you how much I care,” he says, his eyes locked in on yours. “Maybe you don’t think I’m good enough for you now, but I will be someday.”
You shake your head. “That’s not it at all. You’re a great deal too good for me,” you say, stroking his hair back and relishing the way it runs through your fingers. “You need a girl who’d be happy just to hang off your arm, who will build a home for you and dote on you faithfully. I can’t be that girl for you.”
“That’s not what I’m looking for at all-”
“We wouldn’t be good together. We’d end up fighting all the time!” You say to convince him, but he doesn’t look moved by your spiel. “I’d end up regretting falling in love with you, and you’re not a person I would ever want to regret.”
He stands firmly. “I can’t go away knowing that if I had just tried a little harder-”
“I promise I’ll always be here for you,” you say. “Good friends are always together in spirit.”
“You also promised we’d hang out the entire summer before we went away,” he recalls, taking a step back from you.
“Don’t do this, Jaemin.”
He bites down on his tongue like he’s holding back the tears threatening to spill out. “I can’t just be your friend. I love you too much to torture myself like this.”
“Jaemin, please-”
You choke back your sobs when he strolls out of the shed, refusing to hear your pleas. You climb into your buggy, attempting to pull yourself together as you tug on the reins. You loathe your tearful ride back to Green Gables, and Ilnam watches you approach from his spot in the fields. His lips curl downwards when he helps you out, wiping your tears away.
“I’ve done it again and messed it all up,” you tell him, crying into his chest. “Oh Ilnam, when will I ever do something right?”
“Sweetheart,” he coos, stroking your back in comfort. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve never done a single thing wrong since I’ve known you.”
His blatant lie forces a chuckle out of you. Ilkyung steps out of the house, hands on her hips as she examines the situation. “What are you two doing?” She questions sternly. “We have less than twenty-four hours before we need to be on that train.”
Ilnam mutters, “Go inside before she has both of our heads.” Before you depart, he grips your hand passionately. “You’ll still write to us every week?”
You detect the hesitation in his voice and you kiss his cheek in affirmation. “Of course. I’ll write until you grow tired of my stories. My hands will ache from the repetition but it can’t stop me from keeping close to you.”
The sides of his mouth wrinkle when he grins at you. As you help Ilkyung in folding your clothes upstairs, you wonder if she’ll miss you as much as Ilnam will. She’s always been the tougher one to crack in terms of displaying her emotions, and for the past few days leading up to your departure, she’s barely said a word to you that hasn’t been laced with venom. You suppose it’s her way of coping with change.
“Have you ever been in love?”
She’s taken aback by your question. “I hope this isn’t regarding the Na boy. My arms still hurt from carrying his letters back home.”
You sit on the corner of your bed. “I used to think love was something you didn’t feel until you were older and more mature. In all the stories I read, loving someone so young ends in an unexplainable tragedy. It’s completely selfish of me, Ilkyung, but I couldn’t stand it if he found someone else. I think it would break me, yet at the same time, I know there’s someone better out there for him. A girl who won’t squabble with him over being called a princess.”
She exhales as she places your dress in your suitcase, walking over and taking a seat next to you. She tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling softly.
“When I was your age, shortly after I also finished my education, I befriended a boy who became my closest confidant. His name was Na Juwon.”
Your head snaps up. “Jaemin’s father?”
She nods, her face twisting into a grimace. “Yes, that’s him. We got along very well, and most people even called him my beau,” she says with a nostalgic look in her eyes. “But we fought, and back then, I wasn’t so quick to forgive. Letting him walk away is one of my greatest regrets. I wish I had just pushed aside my headstrong personality for one second to see the bigger picture. We ended up losing touch and he fell in love with someone else.”
“You never told me that,” you say. “I-I didn’t know you were so close with Jaemin’s father.”
She takes your hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. “Some advice for you, child — a letter can go a long way when you’re separated for that long. He may be cross with you and you may be stuck on your ideals now, but you’ll both learn that a love like yours isn’t easy to find.”
“Thank you, Ilkyung.”
She kisses your forehead. “Now let’s finish your packing. I can’t believe my girl is heading to college tomorrow.”
—
September 12th
Jaemin,
Is it safe to assume the girls at this college dream of me making a complete fool out of myself? I hardly think they have to dream for long considering I’m doing such a great job of it on my own. For women so properly educated and professional, I never imagined most of them haven’t ever picked up a romance novel. I spent the first twenty minutes of my class babbling about the forlorn monologue of the reader and how it translates to her unrequited love before I realized no one agreed with me.
I know we left on bad terms, but I can only hope this letter arrives to you safely. A response is not required, yet I’m obliged to tell you I miss the sound of your voice.
October 22nd
Jaemin,
I’ve been writing again recently. A habit I disregarded briefly to focus on my studies, but as I’m certain you’re well aware, my imagination urges me to capture my visions on paper. It’s nothing fancy, simply romance tales I’ve been daydreaming about. I honestly don’t believe anyone could understand them except for you and Hyojung. Have you heard yet that she and Lee Jeno are to be wed next month? I never thought when they met on Valentine’s Day that their betrothal would come so quickly. She told me she sent you an invitation, but I know you’re probably too busy in medical school to attend.
Do write back to me if you get the chance. I would love to hear how you’ve been.
December 2nd
Jaemin,
Ilkyung told me you won the scholarship for your spring term. I offer my best congratulations to you. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the award. My hats off to you since I already know you worked so hard for it. I plan on returning to Green Gables for the holidays. Ilnam has taken up a fever and Ilkyung’s growing worried about his health. I’m not sure if I’ll return for my spring term if he’s not well.
I tried submitting my writing to be published in the local town newspaper, but was swiftly rejected due to my stories containing too many embellishments and not enough relation to the character. I think it’s a sign that my writing is not destined beyond Green Gables.
Will you be coming home for the holidays too?
February 25th
I apologize for my late reply. Thank you for your continuous letters. My studies have kept me preoccupied as of late, but I know it’s a horrid excuse for my absence.
I was sorry to hear of Ilnam’s passing during the holidays. I tried to make it out to Green Gables to see you but the trains were blocked here due to the heavy snow. I’m wishing you and Ilkyung all the best.
As for your writing, I’ve always thought you were a spectacular writer. You’re correct in assuming I would most likely be one of the only ones who could understand your romance folly. I think you should write about Green Gables. Your story deserves to be heard by many around the world.
I’m also writing to inform you of my engagement. It’s sudden, I know, and I want to apologize for my foolish behavior last summer. You were right about us, and I see it now.
Regardless, I miss you always, princess.
—
“Don’t lift that, Ilkyung, it’s too heavy. Let me help you.”
You take the box of milk bottles from her hands, setting them on the dining room table. Ilkyung sighs, resting on a nearby chair and pinching the bridge of her nose. She wipes away the dust coating her eyelashes with the back of her hand.
“You have to take it easy, you heard what the doctor said,” you say sternly, narrowing your eyes at her. “It’s why we hired Jisung to help. You’re supposed to call for him if you need anything.”
She waves you off. “I’ll call him when I’m dead.”
“That’s not funny, stop it,” you reply, holding back the onslaught of tears that spring up.
She hears the quiver in your voice and exhales, standing up and teetering over to you. She wraps her arms around you, and you lay your head on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve become very insensitive to your feelings. I know it’s been difficult for you without Ilnam here,” she murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “He would be very proud of you.”
The front door creaks open and Jisung’s head pops in, grimacing when he observes your fragile state.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“It’s okay,” you dismiss, wiping away your tears. “Come in please. Ilkyung needs help with taking the milk bottles to town.”
Jisung obediently follows your directions, grabbing the heavy boxes and loading them into the buggy outside. You hired him shortly after Ilnam’s passing when you registered that Ilkyung’s health was also deteriorating rapidly. She got constant migraines that impaired her vision, forcing her into bed for most of the day. With Ilnam gone and no one to care for Green Gables, she considered selling the house before you decided to move back. She protested, of course, and you fought for weeks until she relented.
She despised the fact that you dropped your studies but you were not going to allow your first home to be auctioned off like careless livestock. You took a teaching job in the city that provided you enough time to care for Ilkyung accordingly. It also offered you enough time to start writing again. During this go around, fueled by no longer having Ilnam’s presence around, you write about Green Gables like Jaemin suggested.
…And Na Jaemin. You don’t even want to begin to think about the headaches he’s caused you.
Once Jisung departs for town, you begin making supper and instruct Ilkyung to lie down. A knock on the door interrupts your cooking and you’re surprised to see your heavily pregnant best friend behind the door.
“Hyojung!” You scold, helping her inside. “You’re supposed to be resting. The baby’s due any second now.”
She scoffs at you. “He expects me to be a sitting duck at home and I can’t stand it! I need to get out and talk to another human that isn’t my husband.” You help her rest by the fire to keep warm, fetching her a cup of tea. She chews on her lower lip carefully before blurting out, “Soeun saw Na Jaemin walking around with his fiancée in town.”
You pause your slicing of vegetables, raising your head to look at her. She smiles sadly at you.
“That’s- um, that’s wonderful. I’m happy for him,” you say, swallowing your nerves.
“You never told me what occurred between you and him. Every time someone utters anything related to his engagement, you clam up and refuse to speak. From what I recall, the last time we spoke you were letting your petty grudge go and finally starting to be friends with him.”
You sigh, throwing the handful of vegetables into the pot on the stove and stirring carefully. “I have forgiven him, Hyojung. That childish banter is in the past.”
“Then what is it? What has you so on edge around him?”
A flash of breathy whines and heavy groans plays across your mind, along with the heat of Jaemin’s touch and his mouth on your skin.
“It’s nothing. Please, Hyojung, just drop it.”
She lets the subject go for the rest of the night, not owning the same willingness to fight you as she once had due to her pregnancy. She stays for dinner, and Ilkyung walks downstairs to greet her briefly before the lighted candles in the kitchen grow to be too much for her migraine. After eating, you escort Hyojung back home, where Jeno is pacing in worry over his wife.
“Christ, Hyojung. You can’t walk out like that and not inform anyone about your whereabouts,” he says, helping her walk up the steps of the staircase. He smiles politely back at you. “Forgive my crass language.”
You shake your head, waving him off. “No worries. I wanted to see that she made it home safely. I hope you two have a lovely night.”
“She’s going to have a lovely night dreaming about Jaemin!” Hyojung calls when she’s already up the stairs, and Jeno throws you another apologetic look.
You leave the couple to their own devices after rejecting Jeno’s suggestion to stay the night in their guest room. You trudge back to Green Gables, wrapping your arms around yourself as the wind nips at your cheeks. Your mind drifts to Jaemin the entire way, much like it’s been doing since you returned home.
When you received that letter from him in February, in the midst of still grieving over Ilnam, it felt as if he punched you in the gut. You weren’t so shocked to learn he was engaged to someone else, knowing he was making himself a fine catch in medical school and the girls nearby had to be swooning over him. Regardless, the revelation stung. It reminded you of Ilkyung’s story, where she lost Jaemin’s father due to her own stubborn nature.
You contemplated if you were repeating history. If perhaps you and Jaemin are destined to be together, yet the only thing preventing it from coming true is you.
A rough hand tugs on your shoulder and you gasp, spinning around to face the assailant.
Jaemin holds his hands up to profess his innocence. “Sorry. I was calling your name but wasn’t sure if you could hear me.”
“J-Jaemin?”
He chuckles at your astonishment. “Hi,” he says awkwardly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We came into town yesterday and I wanted to come see you. Ilkyung said you were walking Hyojung home.”
You blink in rapid succession, still trying to register that he’s actually in front of you and not a figment of your imagination. You pinch your upper arm just to double check.
“Y-Yes,” you stammer, unable to form coherent sentences. “She’s pregnant, you know? About to pop actually. Jeno’s been like a hawk watching her but you know how Hyojung can be. I mean, I guess you two aren’t really that close but-”
“Are you okay?” He asks, examining you with concern over your verbal incompetence.
You laugh clumsily. “Yes! I apologize, I must be tired. It’s been a gruesome day.”
“I won’t keep you long then. I heard that you stopped attending college to restore Green Gables?”
You nod in affirmation. “I felt it was only right to, especially after Ilnam left us. Jisung has been a great addition, he’s our new farmhand.”
“I want to help finance you.”
“W-What?”
“I’ve been earning my keep with a local doctor while pursuing my studies. He’s been paying for me to shadow him, provided if I assist him where needed. I want to give the money to you so you don’t give up on your dreams.”
You purse your lips, ramming against his shoulder as you begin walking away. “Absolutely not, Na Jaemin.”
He follows after you. “Don’t act this way, please. I want to help you! You can’t give up on college, you’ve worked too hard for it.”
“Nayoung has already offered and I have refused. Besides, what would your fiancée think? Using your hard earned money on a girl you barely know.”
“Yoojung would understand,” he reasons, and you visibly recoil at her name. “And how can you say that? Of course I know you.”
“Do you?” You scoff. “My unanswered letters say otherwise.”
“I apologized for that already. Please, let me take care of you.”
You spin around, digging your finger into his chest. Your eyes blaze with fury, and he flinches at the sight. “You have no right to take care of me. I have never needed your help, and I certainly won’t be requesting it now. So run back to your fiancée and spend your money on your wedding, like a true gentleman would.”
His hand wraps around your upper arm, holding you in place. “Have your feelings changed since the summer?”
He has that optimistic look in his eye, the same one from the night he took you on his dining table. You squash it immediately, enraged by his carelessness for a fiancée you’ve never met.
“No. And you’re a fool for thinking they have.”
You hike up your dress and stomp away from him, ignoring his cry of, “You can’t throw away your dreams! I won’t let you!”
—
“I could stare at his crying face for hours and he would still be the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen.”
Hyojung laughs at you. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to hear him wailing relentlessly.”
She lays on top of her shared bed with Jeno as he presses a cloth to her forehead to wipe off the remaining beads of sweat. Chaeyoung had dashed to Green Gables as soon as Hyojung’s water broke, startling both you and Ilkyung as she screamed at the top of her lungs that the baby was coming. The nearest midwife in town rushed at the news after Mrs. Noh pounded on her door furiously.
The newest baby Lee arrived safely into the world, surrounded by a love you could only dream of having. Half of the women in town gathered at the Noh doorstep to offer baked goods and words of comfort to the new mother. Overwhelmed by the influx of support, she only allowed you inside the room, and you held her hand the entire way of delivery.
You shush the sweet child in your arms, whispering softly to him about how you’re going to cherish him forever. Jeno leaves briefly to handle the incoming guests downstairs, and Hyojung stares at you.
“How come I’m the one who’s just given birth yet you look like the most disastrous one here?”
You sigh, knowing she can see the huge bags underneath your eyes, which are slightly red from the crying. You had been relaying your conversation with Jaemin in your head all night, scolding yourself for once again treating him so poorly. You still stand firm on your decision to not take any of his money, yet the heartbroken look on his face after you rejected him lingers.
“I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”
“Mrs. Park, could you please give us a minute?” Hyojung asks, and the midwife in the room nods patiently, exiting and shutting the door behind her. Hyojung glares at you. “Give me my baby and start explaining.”
You stride over to her, handing her the small bundle of joy. You take a seat on the chair next to her bed, twiddling your thumbs nervously.
“I ran into Jaemin on my way home.”
Her head snaps up, eyes widening. “And?”
“…Something happened between us last summer.”
“I knew it!” She whisper-shouts, being mindful of the sensitive ears of her new son. “Gosh, I knew you had been keeping it a secret. You acted as if he brought on the plague whenever Soeun mentioned him. What happened?”
You chew on your lower lip. “Everything.”
Jeno strolls back in, giddy as he carries a basket of fresh bread. His smile falters when his wife scowls at him.
“Jen, I love you more than anything and I’m so thankful we brought this child into this world, but I need you to leave us for at least ten minutes. And guard the door so we aren’t disturbed by anyone else.”
Your best friend’s husband gapes at the instruction, but darts his eyes between a heartbroken you and his determined wife. He awkwardly leaves the room.
Hyojung surveys you with the quirk of her eyebrow. You disclose it all to her, from the night in his kitchen to his proclamations of love in the summer. She listens to you with an open jaw, in pure disbelief by your connection with him.
“I’m not going to take his money, Hyojung. I can’t. For heaven’s sake, can you imagine what his fiancée would think? It astounds me that he didn’t even consider her feelings regarding the matter. If I didn’t accept any type of financial compensation from Nayoung, he’s a dunce for believing I would take it from a struggling medical student.”
She grins at you. “You love him.”
You frown. “Is that truly all you heard from that story?”
“You love him and you’re hurting yourself by not confessing it to him. What’s preventing you from finally seeking your true love? You read about love, you write about love, and you dream about being loved. Yet, when it’s served in front of you on a silver platter, you run from it. How is that going to solve anything long term?”
You shake your head. “He has a fiancée. I’m not going to become the woman in the story that intrudes on the heroine’s happy ever after. Why, I’d be no better than the poem where the town watched as the beautiful woman succumbed to her sorrow for her unrequited love. How could I allow myself to become that person, Hyojung?”
“He wouldn’t have offered to pay for your schooling if he didn’t still care for you. Even if he has betrothed himself to another, his heart calls for you. And only you.”
The sharp cry of her newborn has her exhaling, and Jeno enters the room hesitantly. Hyojung nods at him and the man circles the bed, taking the babbling child from her arms. You decide to offer them a few minutes of privacy, brushing off the heated stare Hyojung throws at you that indicates this conversation is far from finished.
She spends the rest of her evening thanking her guests for stopping by. It provides you enough time to slip out unnoticed, even by Ilkyung, who chats with a few other women in the kitchen. You pass the Lake of Shining Waters as you find your way back to Green Gables. You settle into bed but sleep doesn’t find you so easily.
You toss and turn as memories of Jaemin swirl in your head, refusing to quiet its intensity. The sudden flash of a dining table has you squeezing your thighs from arousal, leaving you ashamed of fantasizing about a taken man. You swallow down the feeling as your hand snakes down your lower half, slowly brushing over your throbbing core.
You shut your eyes and dig your teeth into your pillowcase, grinding your hips downwards as you think about the ridge of Jaemin’s cock stretching you out. You gasp silently as you replay his grunts in your ear, breathless from the way he takes you so roughly, like you belong to him. You feel him peppering kisses down your neck, cooing softly in your ear and encouraging you to welcome the pleasure.
You clench down around nothing as you heave, whimpering to yourself in the empty room. You blink heavily as you maneuver through your lust-filled haze, empowering the mortification to seep through.
You shove aside the guilt to provide space for your drowsiness, your mind abruptly settled after entertaining the delusions of Jaemin’s love.
Over the following months, Hyojung doesn’t get another chance to interrogate you. She’s caught in a whirlwind of caring for her child, who hasn’t adjusted to a normal sleeping schedule. Jeno and her are constantly invited to new events held by other mothers in town, desperate to make connections and expand their club to the new generation.
You’re thankful for the reprieve, slightly regretting informing Hyojung of the whole ordeal in the first place. You spend your time caring for Ilkyung and assisting Jisung out in the fields. You fret over her declining health, begging the heavens above to grant your family a break from the stress. You often find yourself sitting in the living room late at night, speaking gently to pictures of Ilnam and hoping he can somehow hear you.
“Ilkyung tells me she’s fine but her migraines are getting worse,” you murmur to the framed photo in front of you, stroking its ends and staring at the solemn gaze of your father. “I don’t know how to discipline her. She won’t relent, you know how she is. I can’t lose her too. I wish you were here to yell at her. She would have called you ridiculous but I know she would’ve listened to you.”
You pause, checking the kitchen to ensure Ilkyung’s not lurking nearby. “You were right about Na Jaemin. I care for him more than anyone else, and he’s a good man. I deluded myself into thinking my feelings could easily vanish, but I know now that isn’t the case. It’s far too late to admit my wrongdoings, for he’s engaged and last I heard, thriving in school. He’ll graduate in the spring and it’s definite he’ll be a married man by then. I’ve accepted my fate to resign as a single woman. It’ll do me some good to look after Green Gables, and I’m almost finished writing my book about the town. I’m not sure it’ll get published, but I must say I believe it to be the best piece I’ve written to date. I wish you here to read it.”
You sniffle, wiping away the stray tears that have fallen. You set the frame back on the table, picking up the candle lighting the room and heading towards the staircase to go to bed.
A knock on the door interrupts you. You’re surprised to see Jisung standing on the other side, smiling awkwardly.
“Jisung? What are you doing here? It’s nearly midnight.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles with a blush painted on his cheeks. You learned over time that the boy tends to grow embarrassed quickly. “I was in town and the postmaster said you’ve been receiving urgent letters. He didn’t know who else to give them to.”
You take the pile from his hands before reprimanding him for staying out so late. He runs home with flushed cheeks while you fan out the letters across the dining table, the candlelight illuminating the ink splattered across the front.
You furrow your eyebrows when you realize most of them are addressed from the girls’ college. Multiple envelopes spanning over different dates. With Ilkyung’s illness boarding in full force, you haven’t had enough time to swing by town and grab the mail.
You open the latest one first, sent only a week ago.
This is the third notice to the Seo household regarding the spring term. Payment has been received and a spot has been reserved. Please reply at your earliest convenience with confirmation of attendance.
Your blood runs cold. You rip open the other letters, each detailing a similar notice for you to arrive at the girls’ college for the spring term, which begins in less than three weeks.
The last envelope, however, is smaller than the others and you recognize the familiar handwriting. You shakily pry the seal off, already guessing what lies underneath.
Don’t be upset. A nurse is set to arrive to care for Ilkyung the week before you leave. I’m not letting you give up.
You crinkle the paper in your palm, laying your hands on your forehead as you take a deep breath.
Why, oh why, did Na Jaemin have to fall in love with you?
—
“Alright, ladies, please pair off and discuss the latest chapter. We’ll regroup before the end of the hour.”
Doyeon turns to you, a grin stretching across her lips. You already know what she plans to ask, letting her wrap an arm around your wrist and race to the back of the room.
As you set your books down and sit far away from the teacher, she continues where she left off before class began. “And then he asked if he could court me officially. I wasn’t exactly in a position to say no.”
“We’re supposed to be discussing the latest chapter,” you remind her. “I, for one, think the hero was far too arrogant to be flaunting his wealth in front of the local commoners.”
She glares at you. “The fact that you still do the reading astounds me.”
“I have people counting on me.”
The three weeks after discovering Jaemin’s secret plot were filled with heated arguments with everyone involved in your life. Ilkyung and Hyojung were pleading for you to take the opportunity and go, insisting the only way you could fulfill your dream of writing was to finish your education. You refused to spend Jaemin’s hard earned money, but the fare for the train ride you needed to get to his medical school to confront him cost too much. You wrote him many strongly worded letters that never received a reply.
It wasn’t until the live-in nurse arrived to care for Ilkyung that you realized you didn’t have much of a choice. Jaemin had already paid her wages for the entire year.
Nayoung even traveled down to knock some sense into you, lecturing you about the need for more female academics. She threatened to write a check that tripled the amount of Jaemin’s if you were really so bothered by him being the sender.
You returned to the girls’ college and resumed your studies at the start of the spring term. You devoted twice as much time as you did in your first term, worrying that Jaemin’s efforts would turn out to be futile. You received the top marks in every class, and a part of you yearned to have a smiley boy sitting next to you, fueling your need for competition.
You finished writing your book about Green Gables after spring had come and gone. You spent weeks speaking to multiple publishers in town, shocked by the popularity of your work and their eagerness to disperse it. By the time classes resumed, you were nearly done finalizing the contract to officially publish your book.
On the other hand, your roommate, Doyeon, had only been sent to college because her parents believed it would market her as a better match for potential suitors. She cared very little about her work, but she became a great friend to you when you needed someone to loosen you up.
“The girls are heading to this parlor after class,” she giggles. “You have to come.”
“I have to finish my essay after class.”
“Come on,” she whines, tugging on your arm. “Just this once. Indulge me!”
She drags you into town that afternoon, pulling you into a circle of girls chatting in the middle of a tea parlor. All of them are dressed in colorful gowns with puffy sleeves, wearing hats with obnoxious feathers decorated on the top. You awkwardly attempt to cover your brown ensemble, with sleeves not as puffy as theirs and no hat in sight. You recognize a few of their faces from your classes but some are unfamiliar to you.
Doyeon sits you down and forces you to make conversation with those around you.
“It was simply tragic,” a girl murmurs from beside you, her hand delicately balancing the saucer under her teacup. “I mean, I felt bad for him but I was not about to become a widowed girl before I turned twenty years of age. Can you imagine the pressure I was under?”
“You’re so brave,” another girl replies, the feather in her hat blocking the view of her right eye. “He was perfect on paper for you.”
“Girls,” Doyeon interrupts cheerfully. The circle turns their attention to her. “I finally convinced my roommate to join us.”
One of them gasps. “So this is her! The esteemed author!”
You stare at your roommate, dismayed by her lack of filter. She smiles sheepishly at you.
“That was meant to be a secret,” you say, laughing shyly. “The book hasn’t exactly been published yet.”
“Oh, but it will be soon, won’t it?” Another person pipes up, eyes sparkling. “Can you believe this, girls? We’ll actually know someone famous.”
You shake your head nervously, bashful at the sudden attention. The girl next to you nudges your side.
“What was your name again?”
When you provide your answer, the group falls into a sudden hush. The girl next to you stiffens completely, her fingers nearly breaking her porcelain teacup. Doyeon is just as confused as you. “What’s happened?”
“You’re her,” the girl beside you whispers. “You’re the girl.”
Your bewilderment only grows tenfold when she stands and sneers down at you. “What’s it like to receive a free education?”
“W-What?” You stutter, taken aback. You haven’t told anybody about your ordeal with Jaemin or the real reason why you’re attending college. How is it possible that this stranger knows your circumstances?
She scoffs in disbelief at you. “Do you know how much pain you’ve caused me? How much heartache you’ve brought to my family?” At your continued hesitation, she snaps. “Does the name Choi Yoojung mean anything to you? Or how about Na Jaemin?”
The puzzle pieces click together. The woman in front of you is Jaemin’s fiancée — the beautiful girl who he fell in love with after you broke his heart. You had assumed they married months ago, but by the way venom drips from her voice when speaking his name, you guess it didn’t go as planned.
“Yoojung,” a girl speaks gently, trying to calm her down when she identifies the fear flash across your face.
She doesn’t relent. “Congratulations to you. He’s driven himself to death in his mission to take care of you. Now neither of us can have him.”
A chill rushes down your spine. You stand, staring at her as your demeanor switches into something more serious. “What are you talking about?”
She snorts. “You didn’t even bother to check on him, did you?”
“I write to him every week,” you retort, curling your lip. “He never responds.”
“Because he’s working! He’s always working. He never stopped because you needed the money,” she snarls. “He only quit when he contracted typhoid fever last month and returned home. I imagine he’s been dead for weeks already.”
You swear your heart stops beating. Doyeon grasps your hand in concern but you shrug her off. You struggle to control your breathing, panicking at the thought of Jaemin slaving himself away at the hospital just so you could go out for tea on a midday afternoon. Doyeon places her hands on your shoulders, troubled by your anxiety.
“Yoojung, back off,” she warns.
The girl listens, gathering her things and storming out of the parlor. The other women follow in pursuit, leaving only you and Doyeon.
“I have to go home,” you say, feeling as if your heart has plummeted three stories down. “I-I have to see him.”
She has no idea who you’re referring to, probably lost for most of your conversation with Yoojung. Regardless, she nods and helps you to the door, rubbing your back soothingly. You pack your belongings in record time, locating the money you have as an advance from the publishing company for a train ticket home. Doyeon calls for her buggy and gives you a ride to the station, and you kiss her cheek and thank her for her assistance.
You spend the entire journey exhausting yourself with images of a sickly Jaemin, but you force your thoughts not to stray to the notion of his death. Once you offboard, dread sinks in when you register that you have no ride back, not giving Hyojung an indication that you would need a buggy at the station.
The universe seems to save you when you spot Soeun and Donghyuck carrying their newborn through the train platform.
You call her name desperately, and she spins around to face you. Her expression lights up. “Oh! I didn’t know you were back in town-”
“Is it true? About Jaemin?”
Her face falls and she glances at her husband with apprehension. You repeat her name, glaring at her with one of the strongest looks you can muster.
She caves in. “Hyojung told me not to say anything, I swear! We didn’t know how bad it had gotten until a week ago.”
“Is he alive?” You ask, your heart thumping furiously in your chest in anticipation of the answer.
“…Yes. But I’m not supposed to tell you-”
“Take me to him.”
Soeun and Donghyuck allow you to squeeze into their buggy, making the expedition to Jaemin’s home and dropping you off. She gives you a pitiful look, kissing your cheeks gently in farewell.
You take a deep breath as you walk up the steps, knocking on the door. The house has perished quite a bit over the years, with grass growing out of the floorboards of the porch and the paint slowly peeling. When the door opens, however, it still smells exactly like Jaemin.
An older man stares back at you, eyebrows furrowed. “May I help you, madam?”
“Na Jaemin. I’m here to see Na Jaemin,” you say, breathless and choking back tears.
He smiles. “Ah, you’re her. I’ve been waiting for someone to inform you. He wouldn’t let me.” He ushers you inside, helping you place your luggage aside. He outstretches his arm to take the book in your hands but you clutch it tighter to your chest. “I’m Dr. Lee, I’ve been Jaemin’s mentor since he began his schooling. I put a pause on my practice to nurse him back to health.”
You sniffle, disregarding your manners out of impatience. “Is he here?”
He smiles softly in understanding, gesturing his head towards the back of the house. “He’s in his father’s room.”
You swallow as you walk down the hallway, the flickering candlelight illuminating the dusty room. You inhale sharply when you see Jaemin splayed out on the bed, face completely drained of color. He’s tucked completely in the blankets of his father’s tiny bed, barely big enough to fit him. You rush to his side, gripping his hand tightly in yours.
He blinks lethargically at you before mumbling, “Princess?”
You wipe your tears away. “You’re an idiot. The most reckless person I know.”
A smile spreads across his chapped lips. “I’ve missed you.”
You quell the urge inside you that begs to argue with him, to scold him for not taking care of himself and putting his life at risk. But you don’t want to waste your precious moments with him by fighting, so you show him the book in your arms instead.
“I finished writing about Green Gables, just as you said I should,” you mumble through blurry vision. “I’ll be a published author soon. I dedicated the inscription to Ilkyung and to Ilnam and… to you.” You open the first page of the book, unveiling his name. You choke out, “I was planning on sending it to you as a wedding gift.”
“There’s something you should know,” he croaks. “About me and Yoojung.”
You shake your head, swiping back the hair matted to his forehead. “I already know,” you say. “W-We had an unfortunate run in.”
“You understand now then. You understand that there’s never been anyone for me but you.”
You shut your eyes tightly, bending down and pressing your forehead against his cheek. You rest your hand over his chest and feel the way it rises and falls. “You have to get better,” you say sternly. “You have to get better so I can tell you how I really feel.”
You make a home out of Jaemin’s room for the next few weeks. Dr. Lee and you take turns watching over him, and he locates a spare cot in the storage closet for you to sleep on. You set it up right next to Jaemin’s bed, holding his hand as you doze off. You feed him and read him stories, although his number one request has been to hear your book.
Dr. Lee recounts his memories with Jaemin, and how he’s never met a student more hardworking. He reveals that Jaemin always spoke about you, referring to you as the smartest girl he’s ever known.
By week four, Jaemin regains the color in his cheeks and is able to sit up in bed on his own. You’re attempting to spoon a hearty soup into his mouth but he’s making it into an impossible task.
“You said you would tell me how you feel if I got better,” he whines. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you gasp, trying not to spill the piping hot bowl on him. “I kept up my end of the bargain.”
“Jaemin,” you huff, scooting back before you’re sitting on his lap. “You’re still not back to complete health. Can you please finish your dinner?”
A knock echoes on the door, and you turn to see Dr. Lee smiling at you both. He’s carrying a suitcase in his hand and has a coat draped over his frame. “Well, it’s been a joy to help my young prodigy, but I really must return to my practice.”
Your eyes widen. “You’re leaving?”
He chuckles at your reaction. “He hasn’t shown any symptoms for three days, which leads me to believe the worst of it is over. All he has to do now is get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids. And luckily, he has a beautiful nurse here to help him.”
Jaemin beams, grinning while you look away in embarrassment. “Thank you, Mr. Lee. I owe you a great deal.”
“Nonsense,” the doctor brushes off. “Considering you fell ill on my watch, I would declare I owed this to you.” You walk him to the front door, thanking him for watching over Jaemin. He winks at you before he climbs into his buggy. “You’ll take even better care of him, I’m certain.”
You observe as he rides away, waving his hat in the air as a salute to you. You smile before returning inside, gasping when you see Jaemin leaning on the dining table.
“What are you doing out of bed? You can’t be strolling around the place just yet-”
You’re effectively silenced when he boxes you in, his lips descending over yours. You crumple up the fabric of his sweater in your palm, relishing the way he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.
Your nagging continues as he peppers kisses down your jaw. “You really should not be out of bed right now. You need to save your strength and energy for recovery.”
You whimper when his fingers sneak underneath your dress, stroking your clothed core. He props you up against the table, and you’re suddenly thrown back in time.
“J-Jaemin, we shouldn’t-”
“Unless you plan on confessing your feelings for me, I would rather not hear another peep out of you,” he says, swallowing you with his frame. “I’ll make exceptions, of course. Like this.”
His fingers press harder against your folds and you whine, arching into him. It’s not long before your undergarments are discarded on the floor. You haven’t been intimate with someone since Jaemin, causing goosebumps to rise over your skin when his digits brush over your entrance.
“Tell me,” he grunts lowly in your ear. “Tell me how you feel. I need to know.”
Two fingers slide in easily, and you immediately clench down on him, your mind swirling in exhilaration. He pulls back to watch your reaction, smirking when he sees your jaw dropped open. He leans forward to capture your lips in his again.
“Tell me,” he whispers in between his tongue exploring your mouth.
He curls his digits, rubbing against your walls perfectly. You’re ashamed to hear the sound of your slick filling the room. His other hand works at untying your corset, loosening your dress just enough to expose your breasts for his viewing.
“Jaemin,” you exhale when he takes the hardened bud of your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. You grind down onto his hand as the pleasure begins to strike in full force. The combination of his fingers caressing you and his tongue flicking over your stiff peaks is enough to drive you to the edge, mewling loudly as you soak his digits in your arousal. You pant as you confess, “I love you.”
His head snaps up, grinning wider than ever. You squeak when he launches himself at you, spreading your back across the wood of the dining table. You giggle as he attacks you with an onslaught of kisses.
“Say it again,” he says, quickly pulling his length out of his trousers.
When he thrusts inside you, a moan falls freely from your lips, accompanied by another “I love you.”
It’s swift and desperate, the way he harshly ruts into you as you sing sweet noises for him, praising him while his cock abuses your pussy. You’ve never wanted anyone the way you crave him, keeping him as close as possible in fear of him leaving you. He assures you with the skin of his teeth, grazing your neck as he marks you as his.
When he spills inside you, you swear you’ve never been this happy before. He doesn’t retract from you, burying his head into your shoulder as he wraps himself in your scent.
“I’ll make you a promise,” he murmurs. You tangle your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp affectionately. “I’ll let Nayoung pay for your schooling and I promise not to work myself to death at the hospital. But after graduation, we take our vows and move back to Green Gables. We start a new life with each other.”
You laugh, giddy over the thought. Just last year, you were convinced you would retire as a lonely spinster, reminiscing over your lost love. Yet now he lays on top of you, fulfilling your dream of forever in a great big home.
You nod. “That sounds beautiful.”
—
A scream erupts throughout the house and you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Hyojung sits next to you in her rocking chair, chortling with glee at your misery.
Ilkyung strides by, carefully balancing herself with her cane. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you,” you call after her, watching as she corrals your two toddlers in the kitchen.
“Five children is just too much,” Hyojung remarks with the click of her tongue. “How could you let Jaemin talk you into another one?”
You stare down at your growing belly, resting your hand over your bump. “He’s very convincing.”
Your husband barrels through the front door with your six-year-old son attached to his back while your eight-year-old daughter curls around his leg. He’s laughing, pretending to make them fly as your two other toddlers rush over to him, eager to join the scene.
You married Jaemin shortly after graduation, sealing your vows next to the Lake of Shining Waters. Ilkyung was delighted when you chose to move into Green Gables as Jaemin landed a position as the town’s new doctor and your second book was about to be published. You finished the girls’ college with high marks, securing a teaching spot at the best college in the area.
You lived in pure bliss. You kept the nurse who looked after Ilkyung in your absence, and she eventually became a helping hand to your rowdy family. Jisung still assisted you and Jaemin with maintaining the farm, even stepping out of his comfort zone every now and then to chase your children around the yard.
You thank the universe everyday for granting you a second chance at happiness. Jaemin constantly dotes on you, fretting over your every need. He’s a perfect father, never losing his temper with the children and cooing at them in soft voices. It’s perhaps why you’re so inclined to keep giving him more.
He staggers over to you after he manages to pry your rambunctious children off his body, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.
“Are you two enjoying yourselves?”
Hyojung smiles. “We would be if your wife’s feet weren’t swelling enormously, Dr. Na,” she says with a teasing tone. “You should rub her feet to make her feel better.”
He’s quick to follow orders, sitting on the carpet and getting to work.
“Anything for my princess.”
You throw Hyojung a look. “Now you’re just misusing our power.”
You glance over at your children, who are flocking towards their grandmother and asking her for a snack. Then you look at your beaming husband and your mischievous best friend, the true kindred spirits of your heart. And it’s all topped by the puffiest sleeves a girl’s ever owned, sitting proudly on your arms.
Your dream of having a home to call yours has finally come true.
this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!
altar boy sins
summary: the pastor’s son fucks you in the back room of the church, promising god’s forgiveness while ruining your last shred of purity.
pairing: mark lee x fem!reader
genre: smut, religious corruption, dark romance.
warnings: explicit sexual content, anal virginity, church setting, religious guilt, oral (m receiving), squirting, degradation, sacreligious language, coercion under trust, creampie, overstimulation, power imbalance, aftercare (light), public risk, no vaginal penetration.
part. ii - part. iii
MDNI 🔞
you had always been the image of virtue. ever since you were little, your life had revolved around the church—every sunday service, every youth retreat, every choir practice and prayer circle. your mother made sure you were dressed modestly, always with your bible tucked in your bag and your heart turned toward god. everyone in town knew your name, whispered it in admiration—such a good girl, they said. so devoted. so pure.
and mark lee... well, he was supposed to be the same. the pastor's son, golden and clean, always sitting in the front pew with his father’s bible open on his lap, eyes closed in pretend prayer. he smiled with soft dimples and spoke in warm, respectful tones that made your mother adore him instantly. she liked to say god had placed him in your path for a reason. and maybe that was true. maybe god had placed him there—to test you.
you hadn’t meant for anything to happen. it started so small, just conversations after service, long looks shared across the chapel, the brush of fingers when you passed him a hymnal. he was gentle at first, careful not to cross a line, but each moment alone with him felt like gravity pulling you closer. and when he kissed you the first time—behind the fellowship hall after bible study—you felt like the world stopped. his lips were warm and soft and sinful.
when you first started sneaking around with mark, things were softer. more innocent. you’d meet behind the church after evening mass, hiding between the tall hedges where no one could see you. he’d press gentle kisses to your lips, hold your hand tightly, whisper sweet nothings against your ear as if you were the most precious thing in the world.
he never rushed you—not at first. he’d just touch you over your clothes, his hands resting respectfully on your waist, sliding up under your blouse only when you let him. and each time you let him go a little further, his praise would melt you. you’re so good for me, baby. so sweet. so perfect.
the first time he touched you under your skirt, you thought your heart would stop. his fingers were warm, slow, exploring the damp heat between your thighs through your panties while he kissed your neck. you were shaking the whole time, clutching his shoulders like a lifeline as he whispered filth in your ear in that low, reverent voice of his.
god made this body just for me, didn’t he? you were meant to be mine.
the day you got on your knees for him was the day something shifted between you.
it was in the church parking lot, late at night, both of you hidden behind the youth ministry van. you’d been making out for too long, your thighs pressed together from the ache building inside you. his cock was hard against his jeans, and when he asked do you wanna try something new, baby?, you nodded without thinking.
he guided your hands to his zipper, helped you pull him out—long, thick, flushed at the tip. your breath caught when you saw it, your mouth already watering.
“just lick it for me,” he said softly, brushing your hair behind your ears. “just a little. just the tip.”
but it wasn’t just a little. not when you saw how much he wanted it, how his jaw clenched and his hands trembled when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock. you took him deeper, his praises growing filthier with every inch you swallowed. the taste of him was salt and skin, musky and intimate, and you moaned around him without meaning to.
he came down your throat that night, holding your head with both hands, whispering you’re so fucking perfect while you swallowed every drop. and afterward, he kissed you so gently you almost cried.
but still—you never let him go all the way.
you’d told him you were saving yourself for your husband. that you’d only give yourself completely after standing before god, in white, with a ring on your finger.
mark didn’t push. not exactly. but his hands got more confident, his touches more persuasive. and every time he left you trembling, wet, begging quietly into his mouth—he’d whisper:
“god will forgive you. he made you to want me”
now you were here, months later, hidden away in the church’s back room. it was where the choir robes were stored, a little room behind the altar with old wooden shelves and a dusty piano no one used anymore. you weren’t supposed to be here, not alone with a boy, not with him. but your hands were already shaking as he kissed down your neck, one of his palms pressed to the small of your back, keeping you pinned to the edge of the table.
“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against your ear, “so perfect, baby. you know how crazy you make me?”
you whimpered, fingers curling in the sleeves of his shirt. “mark... we shouldn’t. not here... not like this.”
his hands slid lower, gripping your hips. “why not? no one’s gonna find us. besides... god will forgive us. he always forgives. he sees love in our hearts. don’t you love me?”
you bit your lip, your whole body trembling with guilt and want. “i do... but i want to wait until we’re married. i want to give myself to my husband. i want god to bless it.”
his eyes darkened, not with anger but with something deeper—desire. temptation. “then marry me. i swear i will. you’re the only girl i want. but i want you now... please. just let me have a little more.”
“mark, i can’t...” your voice cracked, shame pooling in your chest. “it’s a sin.”
“he’ll cleanse us,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw, “he knows your heart. you’re doing this out of love. and he knows you’re still pure... if we don’t—if i don’t take you like that.”
you blinked at him, confused. “like what?”
he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. “i’ll still leave your virginity intact,” he murmured, hand slipping down between your thighs, pressing over your clothes, “you’ll still be untouched. we won’t do it the usual way. i’ll just take you here—” he kissed your cheek, “from behind.”
your breath caught.
“it won’t count,” he whispered, voice sweet like a prayer, “you’ll still be a virgin. still god’s perfect girl.”
you hesitated. the weight of every sermon you’d ever heard sat heavy on your shoulders. but his hands were on your body, and his mouth was on your throat, and your skin was burning. and deep down, there was something dark inside you that wanted it. something that pulsed every time he touched you, something that made your knees weak and your mind hazy.
“promise me,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “promise me you’ll marry me.”
he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “i promise. i’ll take you to the altar myself.”
and that was all it took.
your heart was pounding in your chest as he turned you around gently, his hands never leaving your body. the room was dim, lit only by the soft amber light that spilled through the stained glass near the door. you could hear your own breathing, shallow and fast, as mark guided you to lean over the wooden table. the old surface creaked under your weight, the air cool against your thighs as he slowly lifted the hem of your white sunday dress.
“look at you,” he murmured, voice husky now, more raw, more real. “so innocent. so ready to sin for me.”
his fingers trailed up the back of your thighs, calloused and warm, until he reached the soft curve of your ass. your panties were white, lace-trimmed—modest, sweet, something your mother had bought for you. but they were soaked through, and mark saw it right away.
“jesus,” he breathed, a smirk forming on his lips. “you’re dripping already, baby.”
you whimpered as he tugged them down, the delicate fabric catching around your knees before sliding all the way to your ankles. your cheeks burned with shame and arousal, both twisting deep in your belly as you felt the cool air kiss your now-bare skin.
“bend down for me,” he whispered, pressing between your shoulders until you were fully bent over the table, your elbows resting on the worn wood, your ass presented to him like an offering.
you felt him drop to his knees behind you, felt his hands spread you open, exposing every trembling inch. he kissed along the inside of your thighs, soft and slow, his tongue flicking dangerously close to where you ached. you gasped when you felt him spit between your cheeks, fingers guiding the wetness to your tight entrance.
“it’ll hurt a little,” he murmured, voice lower now, more dangerous. “but you can take it. you’re a good girl, right? you want to make me feel good?”
you nodded, your eyes closing, your hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles went white. “yes… i want to be good.”
“then stay just like that for me.”
he stood again, one hand gripping your waist as you heard the rustle of his belt, the soft clink of the buckle as he undid his pants. then his cock was pressing against you, thick and hot, the head teasing at your tightest spot.
you tensed.
“nghh—ahhh, too much—!”
“shh,” he said softly, kissing your shoulder. “relax for me, baby. let me in.”
he pushed slowly at first, and your breath caught in your throat as the stretch began—hot and burning, unfamiliar and intense. tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you whimpered, body trembling as he pushed further, inch by inch.
“m-mark—! it hurts—”
“shh, quiet, baby. you don’t want anyone hearing how much of a filthy little thing you are, do you?” once he was buried inside, he paused, letting you adjust, his fingers caressing your hips, your waist, whispering soft praises against your ear.
you could barely breathe as you felt every inch of him inside you, thick and pulsing, stretching you open in a way that made your entire body tense. your hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly that your wrists ached, your forehead pressed against the wood as your mouth hung open, panting through the pressure, through the sting. his hands were firm on your hips, thumbs digging into your skin as he stayed buried inside you, letting you feel the full weight of what you’d just done.
“fuck,” he whispered, voice reverent, almost in awe. “you’re squeezing me so tight. you feel like fucking heaven.”
you whimpered, a mix of pain and pleasure blooming in your belly like a wildfire. his hips rolled just slightly, testing how much you could take, and the slow friction made your knees shake. it wasn’t like anything you’d imagined. it wasn’t sweet or soft—it was raw and thick and full. your body fought to accommodate him, fluttering around the intrusion as he began to move in earnest.
“this is what you wanted. i’m just giving you what that virgin pussy of yours was too scared to handle.”
“mmph—! nghh—ahh—!”
“what was that? you like being stuffed full of my cock? like being my dirty little church whore?”
each thrust came a little deeper, a little harder, his pace increasing as the tightness began to melt into something warmer, wetter. you bit down on your lip, trying to stay quiet, but the sounds spilling from you betrayed how good it started to feel. shame pooled hot in your stomach, because it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. you weren’t supposed to like it.
“look at you,” he groaned, slamming into you harder now, one hand sliding up your back to grab a fistful of your hair. “moaning like a little slut while i fuck your virgin ass. does it feel good, baby? you gonna come for me like this?”
your mouth opened in a raw scream, half agony, half ecstasy, unable to hold back the flood of sound escaping you.
“oh my god, oh my god, it’s stretching me too much—!”
“jesus, you’re so fucking loud—shut up, baby, shut up.” he shoved your face down against the table, hand over your mouth again, his hips snapping harder.
“if anyone hears you, they’ll know how desperate you are to get fucked like this.”
you cried out as he pulled your head back, forcing your spine into a deep arch, making you feel every brutal thrust more sharply. the pain burned, yes, but under it was something more intense—your body trembling as a deep heat began to coil between your legs. your thighs were slick, your clit aching from how empty it felt, untouched but throbbing.
his balls slapped against you with each thrust, obscene sounds echoing in the small, sacred space of the church storage room. the smell of sweat and sex filled the air, mixing with the faint trace of incense that lingered on the choir robes stacked beside you. it was filthy. wrong. holy.
he let go of your hair and reached between your thighs, fingers finding your clit without hesitation. you sobbed as he rubbed fast, circles tight and relentless, and your hips started to jerk back against him on instinct, chasing something you didn’t fully understand.
“you’re gonna come,” he grunted, almost laughing, breath hot against your ear. “you’re gonna come like this, with my cock in your ass, right here in god’s house. fuck, baby... you’re perfect.”
“m-mark—i… i feel like i’m gonna pee—”
your vision blurred as your body locked up, tension snapping all at once in a flash of heat and shame and unbearable pleasure. your orgasm ripped through you like lightning, a violent gush exploding between your legs, spraying down your thighs and onto the floor with a loud, wet sound that shocked even you.
“jesus fucking christ—” he gasped, faltering for the first time as your body clenched around him like a vice, milking him deeper.
mark’s hips stuttered the moment he felt the rush of wetness pour out of you, his breath catching in his throat like he couldn’t believe what just happened. your body was shaking beneath him, trembling and spasming uncontrollably as your release coated your thighs, dripping messily down onto the floor. he pulled back just slightly to look, to see the way you squirted for him, your slick glistening under the dim church light.
“fuck, baby…” he groaned, sounding half-wrecked, half-awestruck. “you just—fuck—i made you do that?”
he grabbed your hips tighter, almost possessively, and slammed back into you, still deep in the grip of his own rising climax. your body was so sensitive now, every thrust making you jolt forward, your muscles twitching from the overstimulation. but he didn’t stop—not yet. he was chasing something now, something hot and desperate.
“you came so fucking hard,” he growled against your neck, his thrusts getting sloppier, deeper. “your little virgin body just squirted all over my cock… and you were so scared of sinning.”
you moaned weakly, your voice raw and broken, drool slipping from your lips as your cheek pressed flat against the table. your body felt like it was floating, skin hot and damp with sweat, your hole still stretched tight around him, sucking him in greedily every time he pulled back.
“mine,” he whispered like a prayer, fucking into you with final, brutal thrusts. “you’re mine. god can’t have you anymore. you belong to me.”
and then he came.
with a deep, guttural moan, mark buried himself inside you one last time and spilled everything into your ass—hot and thick, ropes of cum filling you until you could feel it dripping back out around his cock. his hips jerked as he emptied himself, one hand sliding up to hold your waist while the other rubbed your lower back in shaky, soothing circles.
he stayed inside you for a moment, breathing hard, chest rising and falling against your back, sweat clinging to both your skins. the room was quiet except for the sound of your combined breaths and the faint ticking of an old wall clock above the door.
you blinked slowly, still dazed, still trembling. and for a brief second, you felt completely hollow and completely full at the same time—ruined, marked, and claimed.
he pulled out slowly, and you whimpered at the emptiness, at the sticky warmth leaking down the back of your thighs. your body sagged against the table, weak and used, your legs barely holding you up. you could feel his release slipping from your hole, thick and hot, a constant reminder of what you’d let him do—what you’d begged him to do.
“stay still,” he murmured softly, voice gentler now, almost sweet. he reached for a folded choir robe from the shelf beside him, one of the ones no one ever used, and knelt behind you again. with quiet, careful hands, he cleaned the mess dripping down your thighs, the backs of your knees, and finally between your cheeks. he wiped away the cum from your entrance, his touch slow and reverent, like he was cleaning something sacred.
you flinched slightly, still too sensitive, and he pressed a kiss to your lower back. “i’ve got you,” he whispered. “you were perfect for me.”
when he was done, he helped you step back into your panties, tugging them up gently over your sore, sticky skin. he straightened your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles like he was tucking you back into your illusion of purity. then he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips—slow and soft and careful, like he hadn’t just broken something inside you.
you both stood in silence for a moment, breathing slowly, the air still thick with the scent of sin and sweat.
and then he reached for his bible.
he tucked it under one arm and held out his other hand to you. you took it, fingers lacing with his, still trembling slightly. and together, you walked out of that little storage room, out into the bright white hallway of the church.
the front doors were open. sunlight poured in. a breeze moved through the sanctuary like nothing had happened.
as you stepped into the entryway, mark dipped his fingers into the small bowl of holy water near the door. he touched his forehead, chest, and shoulders, murmuring the sign of the cross with practiced grace. you followed suit, mimicking the motion, your fingers wet and cool against your burning skin.
no one would ever know.
you were still god’s children, still his favorites.
only now, he wasn’t the only one watching you.
TY 이렇게 ✊🏻 귀엽긔 👊🏻 있긔 ✊🏻 없긔 👊🏻
no cause haechan's the type to be the biggest fan of birthday sex. like you literally come home and he's completely naked with only a birthday hat covering his junk, and that stupidly hot smirk on his face.....
bf who asks “you want a treat??” while unbuttoning his pants
he could fix me
