summary: in the midst of jeno trying to help you pass a statistics class, you become friends, and eventually, that friendship turns into something neither of you can define. you say he fucks around too much. he says you're not his type. and as far as you're both concerned, it's not that deep anyway.
pairing: fuckboy student!jeno x f!reader.
genre: university!au, fluff, crack, angst, friends(ish) to lovers, smut! mdni! woop woop
word count: ~25k
warnings: oh boy… jeno and oc are both warnings in this, emotional constipation, a lil toxicity but it's all love, jealousy, they fuck obvs, kissing, spitting, fingering, dry humping, oral (fem receiving), he eats it from the back, multiple orgasms, overstim, dirty talk, praise, possessiveness, light choking, lots of teasing, nipple play, his dicc is big bc…cmon, he's a hard dom but the tables do turn a couple times, rough sex, he alters her brain chem, sweet sex also, multiple positions, jen goes through it in one scene(you'll see), angst!!!!, same page!hae makes a few appearances (yes, that's a warning), alcohol consumption, there's a lot more tbh but im so tired rn
a/n: happy gooning!!! that’s it. that’s the tea. also pls send me love im a desperate whore. i'll get a girl boner for each note/ask. ALSO!!! im now officially an unemployed international postgrad student so pls support me on ko-fi (if you can), it would mean the world to little old me👉🏼👈🏼 i genuinely hope you love this fic. i almost went mental writing it - pls excuse any typos. thank u love u bai :’)
masterlist | ko-fi
Jeno isn’t supposed to be upstairs.
Jaemin’s party has already tipped into chaos — music too loud, bodies packed too close, laughter spilling into corners it doesn’t belong — and Jeno feels detached from all of it. He’s tried to lean into it, tried to drink past the restless feeling sitting heavy in his chest, but it hasn’t worked.
Someone mentions his room being occupied offhandedly, like it’s a joke. Jeno barely reacts at first. People drift in and out of rooms at parties all the time. It shouldn’t matter.
Still, his feet carry him upstairs.
The hallway is quieter, the noise dulling with every step, and when he stops in front of his bedroom door, something feels… off. There’s no grim moans bleeding through the walls. No laughter. Just a silence that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the house.
He hesitates, fingers curling around the handle before he pushes the door open, and his eyes land on you: lying back on the bed with your legs dangling over the edge, one arm resting across your stomach, hair falling loosely around your face. Even from the doorway, you look… different.
“Y/N?” His voice comes out tentative, cautious.
His suspicions of you being asleep disappear when your head quickly raises. Your wide eyes show surprise.
“Jen? Hi.” You sit up quickly, as though you’ve been caught red handed. “Is this your room?”
“Yeah.” He nods, taking in the perplexed expression on your face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His words come out rushed as he shuts the door behind him, giving you both privacy and all of a sudden, he feels like he’s intruding, even though you’re in his room.
“Yeah, sorry, just needed some privacy.” You shake your head. “I can go.” You rush to get up and he instantly feels guilt wash over him.
“No, no. You’re fine.” He cuts you off, his hand waving defensively and you settle back on his bed with a sigh. “Did something happen?” He asks carefully, somewhat worried now. He’s never seen you like this before. Not that he sees you much outside your tutoring sessions, but the times he does, you’re all chirpy and playful, always cracking jokes. He doesn’t know you well but it’s evident that you’re not your usual self.
“Um, not really.” You scoff, an exasperated laugh leaving you. “It’s silly, don’t worry about it.” Your eyes stay on your hands as you play with your rings and he realises he’s never noticed them before. Pretty, he thinks.
He moves to sit on the carpeted floor, leaning his head on the foot of the bed, next to where your legs are dangling off the edge. He’s now decided that this situation is a lot more interesting than the chaotic party Jaemin decided to throw downstairs. Half his friends are drunk off their faces, the other half busy getting there, while Haechan and his girlfriend have already disappeared to god knows where. And you? You seem somewhat sober and definitely in need of some company.
“What’s up, Y/N? You’re clearly upset.” He presses, not happy with your vague answer. Jeno is a nosy guy and he knows that about himself, but in this case, he’s also worried and for some reason, he can’t seem to be able to let this go.
“I’m not upset.” You defend, making clear that he’s touched a nerve. “I’m pissed off.” Oh? He can’t help but crane his neck sideways to look up at you. Your eyes meet for a split second and it’s clear as daylight now, you really are pissed off. But there’s something else behind your eyes, he can’t quite decipher. Embarrassment maybe?
“Shit.” He turns to look in front of him again, legs crossing to make himself comfortable. “Who’s the culprit?”
“Classic shitty ex with his shitty new girlfriend, you know the drill.” You explain, sounding like you hate yourself for even talking about this. Jeno gets it.
“Ah. I assume they’re here showing off their happiness?”
“You assume correct.” You confirm and Jeno can’t see you, but he imagines you nodding your head.
“Want me to beat the shit out of him?”
Your snort tells him that he’s succeeding at making you feel a tiny bit better and he can’t hold his smile back.
“You wouldn’t hurt a fly Lee Jeno.” He feels the mattress dipping behind him and when he looks back up he can’t see your face anymore. You’re lying down again.
“Hey, I work out.” He elbows your calf playfully, earning another tiny laugh from you.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I see you checking me out when I talk stats.” He jokes, expecting a snarky response.
“I’m just a heterosexual female, Jeno. I see muscles, I stare.” So, you do check him out?
“I mean, I was joking, but stare away if it makes you happy.” It’s your turn to make him laugh, kicking him in the ribs lightly. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and Jeno ignores the buzzing coming from his back pocket, probably Jaemin or Jisung looking for him. He’d rather be here right now though. Not because he enjoys your company, he just feels a sense of calmness he doesn’t want to ruin. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
“Feeling any better?” He breaks the silence a few moments later and for some reason, Jeno feels comfortable enough to lean his head against your leg, eyes closing to stop the room from spinning. He realises he must be slightly more intoxicated than he thought he was now that he’s sitting down and he smiles when you don’t retract, his temple resting on your soft calf.
“A little.” You nudge his head with your leg. “Thanks.” You say softly. “And sorry for spoiling your night.”
“You didn’t.” He reassures you quickly. If anything, you made it interesting, but he doesn’t admit that out loud.
“How come you’re up here?” You ask, as though you’ve had an epiphany and Jeno lets out a short laugh through his nose, eyes remaining closed.
“In my room?” He teases and he’s aware that he’s deflecting, but he hopes you don’t catch him.
“Ha-ha funny. You know what I mean.” It was worth a try, but there’s no deceiving you it seems.
“Just not in the right mood for a party.” He confesses, sounding almost defeated. And he feels it.
“Tired?” Jeno can tell you’re sat up now, you voice coming from directly above.
“Yeah, it appears trying to force knowledge in that pretty little head of yours takes it out of me.” His joke lands well, getting a laugh out of you but then you startle him with a flick of your fingers on the back of his head. “Oi!” He leans forward, hand cupping the spot you just attacked.
“Insult me again. I dare you.” Your provocative tone intrigues him in a way, even though the pain on his scalp.
“Damn woman.” He complains, the heel of his hand rubbing his head now. “Do that to your shitty ex and you’ve got yourself a gorgeous homerun.” He jokes and almost flinches when you lightly ruffle his hair in a comforting manner. Soft and tender. A complete opposite to your usual demeanour.
“Care to answer my question now?” You return to your previous subject, not letting it slide and he’s almost annoyed that you’re so observant.
He leans back again, resting his head on the mattress and he’s met with your face. From this upside-down angle, he notices the necklace that dangles off your neck as you lean forward to get a better look at him. It’s dainty, like your rings, and it sits prettily between your collarbones.
“Just felt a bit lonely, I guess.” He admits and he feels exposed. It’s been sitting with him all night. He hadn’t meant to say it, but now that he has, it feels strangely relieving. He can’t quite put his finger on the reason, but he thinks it has something to do with the way you look at him. No judgment in your eyes, just understanding. Could also be the fact that you’re upside down.
“As in, there’s no one to talk to or no girl to stick your dick in?” Your question takes him aback and if he weren’t looking at you, he might have thought you’re mocking him. Your perfectly serious expression tells him otherwise.
Jeno shrugs. “Both?” God, he sounds sad.
“There’s plenty of pretty girls downstairs, no?” You shuffle to the edge of the bed now, sliding down to join him on the floor, mirroring his way of sitting. Though your eyes are on the ceiling, his are stuck on your side profile, your neck and that stupid necklace. Have you always been this captivating or is he just drunk and horny? He’s always thought of you as a girl who happens to be a friend. Not his usual type. Or maybe that’s his way of coping with the fact that you’re actually too good for him.
“None I’d wanna stick my dick in.” The words leave his mouth before he can contemplate them and your eyes close as you breathe out a chuckle. “Plus, my room was already occupied anyway.” He teases, smiling at the way your kiss your teeth, feigning annoyance.
“My apologies, Mr. top shagger. I was experiencing a misery crisis.” You retort, lazily turning your head to stare at him. His laugh dies out a second after, but his smile lingers as his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before trailing back up to yours. There’s mischief written all over your face and for the first time in what feels like forever, Jeno feels flustered. It’s like you’ve got him all figured out and he knows that if you were to read his thoughts right now, you would most likely condemn him to eternal hell.
“What?” He asks, deflection getting the best of him again.
“Nothing.” You shake your head, diverting your gaze to your hands again. “You’re the one staring.” There’s a subtle tint of pink on your cheeks and now it’s Jeno’s turn to smirk. You’re shy. Because of him.
“That’s new.” His observation comes out in a hushed tone. Not intentional.
“What is?” Your eyebrows furrow in question and your eyes find his again.
“You’re blushing.” He points his chin at your face and to his surprise you don’t shy away. Instead, you maintain eye contact, one eyebrow raising daringly as you try not to smile, tongue poking into your cheek.
“And you’re flirting.” The slight tilt of your head gets his heart going a little faster. “That’s also new.” Your smirk returns and your eyes narrow, studying him.
“Is it though?” Whatever has taken over him, Jeno can’t explain it, but you’re reciprocating and he has no intention of stopping until you do. What are the odds of this going to shit anyway?
“When have you ever flirted with me?” A genuine question, nonetheless, not a valid one. Jeno’s flirted with you in the past. Subtly. But he has. Aways harmless. No ulterior motives. Until now.
“You know I have. You’ve just never flirted back.” He explains casually. It's the truth and your cheeky grin accompanied by your silence validates his argument. You might be terrible at stats, but you’re not oblivious. “Do you not want me to flirt with you?” He tests.
“I never said that.” You shrug, your nonchalance doing something to him he can’t quite describe. He feels it in his spine though, and it’s unnerving and hot at the same time.
“So, you want me to?” He doubles down, enjoying whatever turn the conversation has taken. Your hesitation intrigues him, gaze drifting down to his lips for a split second before returning to his eyes. Jeno knows the signs.
“Never said that either.”
“Oh, fuck off.” His hand has no business grabbing the back of your neck and your lips have no business being this soft against his, yet both of those things are happening before Jeno can process his actions and he can’t stop the low grunt that rumbles in his chest. You kiss him back like you expected it, like you were prepared for it and that eggs him on even more.
You shuffle closer, your hands finding home on the sides of his neck, holding him close, making his head spin as he struggles to stay sane. The low moan you let out against his lips allows him to lick into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours, gliding, flicking, tasting you eagerly. He really shouldn’t be doing this - fuck stats, fuck tutoring - but the thought doesn’t even register. Not when you look so good on his floor and taste even better on his tongue. He only knows that you’re here, close, and he wants more.
He tugs on your hair, blunt nails scratching lightly at your scalp and you obediently allow your head to loll back, giving him space to attack your neck with wet kisses, your perfume invading his senses, clouding his mind as he sucks on your pulse. He smirks when you whine, the sweet sound reaching his already half hard dick. He lets his other hand travel down your body and when he reaches the inside of your thigh, he squeezes the flesh, waiting for you to protest, to stop him or indicate in any kind of way that you don’t want him to keep going. Instead, you spread your bent legs expectantly.
No words are exchanged apart from a low ‘fuck’ he lets out when you hurriedly dip your hands under your short skirt, tugging at your panties and the second they’re on the floor, Jeno wastes no time. His fingers find your folds instantly, rubbing from your entrance to your clit and he grunts at the wet glide, so fucking wet, he thinks as he circles your bundle of nerves slowly at first, then more determined, wanting desperately to get you off. It’s like he’s possessed. He can’t think straight, the only thought dancing around his mind is seeing you fall apart on his floor.
You bring his lips to yours again, hands pulling at his hair as your tongue invades his mouth and your hips grind against his hand. He’s in a slightly uncomfortable position, butt still on the floor, body twisted at the waist as you’re splayed on his carpet, head resting on the edge of his mattress. Not that it matters anyway.
“Make me cum.” You moan in his mouth; demanding and breathy and he swallows it with a filthy kiss, moaning when he dips a finger in your needy hole. You’re so wet, making his mind go blank and he feels like he could give you anything you asked for at this point. He pulls out, trying two fingers this time, knowing you can take the stretch with how drenched you are.
“Pull your skirt up.” He instructs softly, lips dragging against yours.
You do exactly as he asks, revealing the unholy sight of his fingers slowly fucking into you. Your clit is engorged due to the arousal and he can’t shake the thought of his lips wrapping around it, sucking as hard as he pleases, flicking until you’re shaking. He settles for splitting you open with his fingers for now.
He curls the digits slightly, pressing them upwards as he starts drilling into you at a rough and quick pace. The quelching noises sound almost melodic to him. That’s what good pussy sounds like, he thinks and he relishes in the loud mewl you let out, knowing he’s hitting the right spot.
“There?” He breathes out against your temple, desperately needing to unbutton his jeans, the constricting feeling torturing him, but your nod keeps him going.
“Yeah.” You pant, your eyes on his hand, taking in the erotic image as your nails dig into his thigh through his godforsaken jeans, and he wishes he could feel your touch properly, without any barriers.
He makes sure the heel of his palm stimulates your clit each time he fucks into you and he praises the universe when your walls flutter around his fingers.
“Oh my- fuck!” You cry out as you head tips, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping in a silent moan and Jeno feels lightheaded at the newfound, sinful image of you climaxing. Your cunt clamps down on his hand, making it impossible for him to keep thrusting, so he buries his fingers all the way in your pulsating heat and starts harshly rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your thighs start quiverig, eventually closing and trapping his hand between them, preventing him from continuing.
Your expression resembles an angelic one as you take deep breaths, trying to resurface back to sanity. “Jesus.” You whisper, almost like a prayer and he lets out a short breathless laugh, nails scratching the back of your scalp to help you calm down as your body still trembles.
“You good?” He bends down a little, stealing a kiss off your shoulder. The reason unknown to him, but he doesn’t question it either.
“Mhm.” You nod lazily, turning your head to look at him and your fucked out eyes remind him of the big problem in his jeans. “I think we should fuck.” You blurt out unexpectedly and he feels his eyebrows raise in surprise. He thinks exactly the same, he just didn’t expect you to spell it out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But then again, you’ve always been the blunt type. A woman who knows what she wants. He’ll bite.
“Do you, now?” He purposely feigns surprise as he drags his fingers out of your now relaxed walls and doesn’t even warn you before hooking his arms underneath you; one around your middle, the other one under your bent knees. Your small yelp makes him smile and your arms coming to wrap around his neck in urgency tug at his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel dizzy.
He carries you for a few seconds as he walks around his bed, dropping you so your head lands on his pillows. You bounce a couple of times before sitting up, resting your weight on your palms.
“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” He asks, trying to maintain a serious tone but removing his t-shirt anyway.
“Just a tad.” You say absentmindedly, eyes shamelessly trailing down his naked torso, landing on his hands as they work his belt undone. Jeno is aware of his above average size, but your eyes slightly widening when he shoves both his jeans and boxers down, definitely do wonders to his ego.
He kneels on the bed, shuffling until he’s situated between your already parted legs. He taps on your chin with his index to get your attention. “You’re drooling. Arms up.” He bites his lip trying to conceal a smile as you sit up properly, extending your arms above your head. “Cute.” He mumbles before dipping down to take hold of the hem of your top, dragging it up and off you, revealing your pretty tits. The lack of bra causes his brain to short circuit for a second before discarding the top somewhere behind him and he doesn’t waste time, moving to unzip your skirt. He smirks at the way you adorably raise your bum to help him remove the last piece of clothing.
“How do you want it?” He asks, trying to sound unaffected, all the while aching to touch you all over, heart threatening to jump out of his chest. You bite your bottom lip in thought, contemplating your options.
“Can I be on top first?” You ask tentatively, neck craning so you can look up at him. You’re so pretty like this. Splayed on his sheets with nothing on but that necklace he can’t seem to get enough of. Jeno nods in understanding, gathering that you’re most likely worried he won’t fit in any other position and he’s more than happy to let you take him however you please.
He plops down next to you on the mattress, still sat up and you quickly follow, dragging your knees on his sheets so you can straddle him. His hands move instinctively, taking hold of your hips, pulling you closer as you slightly hesitate and the second your knees trap his hips between them and your arms wrap loosely around his neck, he allows his own to slither around your middle. Your tits brush against his chest and he has to hold back a groan at the soft sensation.
His eyes find that necklace again and this time he can’t refrain from voicing his thoughts. “That looks good on you.” His chin points at the piece of jewellery and you look down momentarily before realising what he’s referring to.
“Thanks. I like yours.” You pull at his plain silver chain with your fingers, bringing his face closer to yours. Your blush is back, making him feel giddy. What’s wrong with him? He can’t even blame it on the alcohol; he feels mostly sober now.
He trails a hand up your side, palming your breast momentarily before his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, palm coming to rest on the side of your neck, thumb tracing your jawline delicately.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask hesitantly, your lips almost touching.
“You can do anything you want.” He utters quietly and he sighs when you close the tiny gap, your lips moulding against his. You kiss him deep and slow - slower than he’s used to - lightly nipping at his bottom lip, a satisfied hum escaping his chest when your hands tip his head back a little, yours angling to the side so you can deepen the kiss. Your tongue obscenely glides against his, your taste invading his senses and the wet smacks of your lips turn him on even more. His cock twitches between your bodies and he moans when you push him by the shoulders, letting himself land on the pillows, dragging you with him.
“Fuck, how are you so hot?” You whine as you trail kisses down the side of his neck and he huffs out a laugh, the compliment reaching his ears as he feels them getting warmer.
“Have you seen yourself?” He breathes out weakly as you suck on a spot that has him reeling, his hand tangling in your hair to hold you there, giving you permission to mark him.
“Shut up.” You murmur against the sensitive spot, your tongue soothing the scratch of your teeth.
“Fuck you.” He retorts childishly, hands grabbing your ass, squeezing greedily, pushing you downwards as he grinds his hips up, length slipping between your puffy folds, your arousal coating him perfectly. “You’re so wet.” He moans against your shoulder as you keep sucking greedily, and Jeno is positive the spot on his neck will feel sore tomorrow.
You sit up abruptly, eyes finding his, looking enticing as ever, pupils blown out, lips wet and swollen. You shock him when you lewdly dribble in your palm before reaching down to engulf his painfully hard cock in the very same hand.
“Jesus.” He pants as you lather him in your spit and slick, the glide of your hand sensational. You shuffle slightly upwards, aligning him with your entrance and he helps you maintain your balance with his hands on your waist.
“Ah, fuck.” You whine when his tip breaches your snug hole and he feels like he’s losing his mind. There’s no way a pussy can be this wet and feel this good. Your contorted expression tells him you might not be enjoying this as much as he is though, which brings him back to reality.
“You okay?” He drops his hands to your ass cheeks, spreading them as far apart as they can go, hoping the action offers your pussy some relief.
“It stings a bit.” The cute scrunch of your nose makes his heart race, and he has to refrain from fully thrusting into your pulsating heat. “Keep your hands there.” You plead and he does, holding you open as you try to sink down a little further with a whimper of discomfort.
“Come here, kiss me for bit.” His words must affect you, the tightening of your walls suffocating him, but you follow through, arms wrapping securely around his neck as your lips find his again. He kisses you slow, matching your rhythm from before, tongues gliding languidly, still wet and messy, but mostly intimate. Too intimate. And he knows it’s working when your walls start relaxing around him, your cunt producing another gush of slick that drips down to his base.
He takes matters into his own hands, hips raising to thrust into you little by little in quick, short pumps and when your mouth drops open against his, he moans, finding pleasure in pleasuring you.
“Better?” He whispers, searching for any signs of discomfort as your eyebrows crease adorably.
“Uh-huh.” You nod quickly, nose bumping against his as you kiss him again, all tongue and teeth, and Jeno doesn’t stop fucking you. Even when he’s fully sheathed in, he keeps going, quickly but gently pumping into your slippery warmth, length barely pulling out before sliding back in. “Fuck, you’re s-so deep.” You whine dreamily and he loves that you’re not moving, hips still, trusting him, taking what he’s giving you from underneath as his hands stay on your ass, holding your cheeks apart just like you asked him to.
When you sit up a little, palms resting on his chest as you start meeting his thrusts, you let out a loud moan and Jeno assumes his cock is hitting exactly where it should be hitting. Your tits are bouncing beautifully, nipples hard from arousal and he wishes he had his mouth all over them, but doesn’t risk changing the angle of his hips, fucking you how you need him to. He doesn’t need your words, just your closed eyes, slack jaw and trembling breaths are enough for him to know you’re lost in pleasure.
“Jen- f-fuck me harder.” Music to his ears.
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Mhm yeah, right there, just harder.” You nod quickly, eyes pleading and how could he ever deny you anything.
“Fuck, baby.” He barely registers the pet name leaving his lips, but he knows it does something to you, pussy gripping him a little tighter than before and when his hips start smacking against yours, ass jiggling in his hands, you both moan loudly.
“Oh, fuck, y-yes, like that.” You cry out, back arching, head tipping backwards in ecstasy and Jeno can’t find it in him to stop staring at you. There’s sweat dripping between your bouncing breasts, and all he can think is how much he wants to lap it up, how much he wants to lather your nipples in his spit and feel the weight of your pretty tits in his palms.
“Rub your clit for me.” He requests in a frenzy, desperate to see you fall apart again. Your ring-clad fingers quickly find the swollen nub, drawing frantic circles around it and Jeno feels his balls tightening at the sight, cock throbbing as he nears his end. Your eyes find his for a split second before they roll back as you visibly start shaking, your hand quickly leaving your clit with a shriek as though the stimulation feels painful. “That’s it.”
He doubles down even through the kneading of your walls around him, thrusts becoming more brutal, balls slapping against your ass. He becomes desperate with the way your nails dig into his chest, his grip on your ass tightening, causing the flesh to ripple. He selfishly hopes his fingers leave bruises, reminding you tonight for days.
He swears the obscene slapping sounds that echo, along with your loud cries of desperation, surpass the best quality porn he’s ever watched. If he could only have a recording of the incoherent blabbering leaving your mouth now, he’d happily ditch all the porn sites and just listen to that whenever he’d want to bust a nut.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You cry out in panic, desperately trying to raise your hips, unable to handle what he’s giving you, but that just urges him to drive into you even harder, refusing to hold back now that he’s got your body spasming hard on his cock. “J-Jen- I c-can't, f-fu-”
He wraps a secure arm around your middle, quickly manoeuvring you on your back and before you can protest, he’s slipping right back inside your warmth, his lips silencing your cries. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he supports his weight on one arm, hooking your leg over his elbow, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. His hips resume their abuse, cock driving into your spent hole repeatedly as he seeks his own release. Your pussy is still quivering around him, forcing a guttural groan out of his chest.
“So fucking good.” He mumbles in utter bliss, your walls squeezing him just right and he accepts defeat, knowing that he can’t last much longer. “Can I cum inside?” He asks for permission, half conscious of the fact that he’s not wearing a condom. He feels helpless.
“Yeah.” Your hands squeeze his biceps in reassurance. “Fill me up, Jen.” You whisper and he swears it’s the most erotic thing a girl has ever said to him during sex. And he’s fucked many girls. None have uttered his name like you do though.
“Shit.” He’s panting uncontrollably, his sweat dripping on your skin, mixing with yours as your hands come to cradle his face in comfort, and he gets this strange feeling in his chest. You’re too tender. Too soft. And then you’re leaning up slightly, kissing him but it’s almost as if he’s forgotten how to use his lips, mouth hanging open against yours, releasing a deep grunt as his orgasm takes over him. His arm starts trembling, struggling to hold him up, blunt nails sinking into the flesh of your thigh as his hips stutter, pumping messily into your wet heat, hot spurts of his release painting your gummy walls, claiming you in the best way possible. He wonders if he’s entered heaven or some unknown dimension, convinced that the way your cunt is milking him is out of this world.
When his thrusts come to a halt, length burying inside you as he releases your leg, he hears the whimper you let out, feels it against his lips and that reminds him to kiss you again. And again. And again. Until you both can’t breathe. Until his lips feel sore. Until you’re desperately pulling at his hair. Until he’s had enough of you. If that’s even possible.
He slips out with a sharp inhale, making you mewl and you’re both looking down, taking in the sight of his now softening cock, all covered in both of your releases. He sits up a little, shamelessly staring at your pulsating hole while forcing your legs wide open. Some of his cum escapes, slowly dripping down to your ass and Jeno feels lightheaded at the sight of your pretty cunt; all puffy and swollen because of him.
“Stop staring you creep.” You complain, playfully kicking him in the ribs as his hold on your inner thighs loosens.
He observes you for a moment; taking in how beautifully ruined you look. Your chest flushed, sweat all over your skin, nipples still slightly erect, tits jiggling a tiny bit from your intense breathing. The blush creeps up to your neck and reaches your cheeks, lips so red and shiny one could think you have a dark shade of lip gloss on. He feels a wave of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that it’s all him; that it’s his spit covering your lips, that your skin is covered in the afterglow of the orgasms he just fucked out of you.
“Going shy on me again?” He teases with a raise of his eyebrows, hand playfully squeezing the flesh of your thigh, before he shuffles upwards, lying next to you on his front, arm lazily draping over your middle as he tries to regulate his breathing.
“What if I closely stared at your dick like I was examining it?” You joke, absentmindedly scratching up and down his arm. He allows his eyes to shut, the relaxing motions of your fingers causing drowsiness to take over him as he shuffles closer to you, seeking more of your warmth.
“Go ahead, I got a pretty good dick.” He mumbles sleepily against your upper arm. You whack him lightly but that still startles him in his woozy state.
“Can you bring me something to clean up with?” You cringe as you rub your thighs together in discomfort and he shoots up from the bed quickly, feeling bad for neglecting you. He so easily sunk into the comfort of your warmth and that scares him a little. This is just sex, right? Nothing too deep. Just sex between two people who were having a shitty night and decided to make it better. Just incredible, mind-blowing sex with the girl he tutors twice a week for extra credit. Right?
The act of aftercare is normally something he indulges in to subtly get rid of the other person. Never intimate, just transactional. In this case, kicking you out hasn’t even crossed his mind. He realises that he wouldn’t mind if you spent the entire night or at least just stayed a little longer. But surely that’s owed to the fact that he knows you in a way. You’re not just a random girl he met and decided to fuck and chuck. You’re friends. Right?
“Shit, yeah, one sec.” He slips out of bed and rushes to his ensuite bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks wrecked; sweat glistening on his skin, lips swollen, the hickey on his neck visible already, dick still shiny with slick and cum. He splashes some cold water on his face and neck, allowing the cooling feeling to wake him up before cleaning himself up.
When he re-enters the room, you’re on your side in foetal position, very clearly asleep and he can’t help the quiet chuckle that leaves him. He carefully rolls you onto your back again and you hum contentedly as he slowly drags the warm damp towel between your legs, cleaning your folds and inner thighs as gently as possible. He feels guilty when he shakes you lightly, waking you up, but he knows you’ll thank him tomorrow.
“You gotta pee first, then we can sleep.” He whispers, careful not to pull you out of your slumber completely.
“I um- I can go home,” You mumble, still half-asleep, clearly dreading the effort. Silly.
“How about just the bathroom, hm?” He scoops you up bridal style again, exactly like he did before, only now you’re completely naked and your head buries in his neck, nuzzling sleepily. “I’ll drive you home tomorrow.” He reassures you and smiles when he feels your arms tighten around his neck.
“You’re actually a sweet guy, aren’t you, Jen?” You mumble dazedly against his skin and he carefully sets you down on the toilet seat.
“Always the tone of surprise.” He teases as he combs your hair out of your face and behind your ears. “Do your thing. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He heads back into his room, picking up your clothes off the floor, folding them neatly on his chair before rifling through his drawers for a comfy t-shirt for you to wear. He hears the faint trickle from the bathroom and can’t help but laugh quietly. A small routine, small domesticity — nothing like him, yet it feels… right. He grabs his phone, sending Renjun three quick texts, hoping his friend is not too drunk to respond.
Jeno: can you bring me a glass of water pls
Jeno: in my room
Jeno: knock.
RJ: on it
RJ: you ok?
Jeno: yeh all good
“I’m done.” Your voice floats from the bathroom, followed by a flush as he puts a clean pair of boxers on before rushing to come get you.
“Hey, lazy bum.” He enters to find you perched exactly where he left you, elbows on your knees. “Did you wipe, or do you want me to do that for you too?” He teases and you whine sleepily, face buried in your hands.
“I did. I promise.”
“Good. Now arms up.” You comply without a question, and he carefully slips the t-shirt on you, warmth spreading in his chest when you sigh at the comfort of cotton, hugging your arms to yourself. You blink up at him, looking soft as ever as you make grabby hands, and his insides almost melt at the cuteness.
Why does he feel this sudden urge to coddle you? Sure, Jeno likes looking after his friends, making sure they’re happy and healthy, but this is different. In all his sexual encounters, he’s always maintained boundaries — never lent clothes, never ensured a girl didn’t get a UTI, never carried them around.
With you, he finds that he’s already broken most of those boundaries in one single night. And he doesn’t know why.
He carries you back to the bed, only this time you cling onto him like a koala bear, arms and legs wrapped around him in a tight hug. He puts you down gently, tucks you in with the duvet, smoothing it over you, making sure you’re comfortable. A knock on the door makes you blink in question.
“It’s just my housemate.” He reassures before getting up to crack the door open.
“Here you go, sir.” Renjun presents him with a pint of water and Jeno gratefully accepts it with a smile.
“Thanks.” He goes to shut the door again, but Renjun quickly stops him.
“Dude, what’s going on?” A worrisome expression on his face.
“Nothing. I’m just- I'm not alone.” Jeno points his thumb behind him, without really allowing Renjun to look inside his room.
“Oh.” Renjun almost looks surprised, an inquisitive look taking over his face which makes Jeno feel scrutinised. His friends know him well enough to know that he doesn’t just hide girls in his room.
“I’ll explain tomorrow.” He assures his friend, silently implying that he can’t elaborate right now. Thankfully Renjun catches on quick and turns to leave after giving him a thumbs up. Jeno doesn’t fail to give him a fond smile for respecting his privacy. It’s one of the things he loves the most about that boy; he doesn’t hover, unless he’s needed.
Jeno takes a couple of gulps before placing the glass of water on the nightstand next to you. Your eyes are closed again and when he quietly joins you under the covers, he feels you shift next to him. He checks if your eyes are still closed and when he confirms they are, he turns off the bedside lamp, allowing the darkness to engulf both of you.
He’s lying on his back; arm folded under his head as he contemplates the choices he’s made tonight. Your stable breathing calms him in a way, and he finds himself trying to match your rhythm. When your hand brushes against his arm, fingers curling around just above his elbow, he freezes slightly, savouring the small contact.
“Jen?” You whisper, as if checking he’s still there with you.
“Hm?”
“I don’t want things to be weird.” Fuck.
“They won’t be.” He turns toward you, voice soft, though the darkness obscures your features.
“How do you know that?” You’re still whispering and he doesn’t know why, since you’re the only two people in the room. He matches your tone anyway.
“I mean...” His words falter briefly as your grip tightens. “Things don’t have to be weird, right?” Your fingers loosen, but they remain there and Jeno has trouble breathing. It’s not that deep, he thinks to himself.
“Right.” You’re not convinced; he can tell. And neither is he.
“You’re overthinking.” No shit, Sherlock.
Your sigh lands on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He senses you closer than he expected. “And you’re not?”
It’s his turn to let out a sigh this time.
“Right.” Your tone cools, as though distancing yourself slightly. Your hand remains, a tether.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N.” He sounds defeated and he wishes he could give you the reassurance you’re looking for. He can’t though. Not without lying.
“Do you want me to leave?” Your question takes him aback.
“What? No, that’s not what I’m saying, Y/N.” He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation.
“Stop saying my name like that.” Your voice not a whisper anymore and that does something to his head.
“Like what?” He provokes, tone harsher than intended.
“Like I’m a problem you can’t be bothered to deal with.” Your words pull him under, and he pauses to recollect his thoughts. He doesn’t want to argue, but it seems you do and Jeno is confused. Did he just imagine the last hour?
He rolls on his side to face you, and you let your hand fall from his arm. He feels the absence. “Can we please talk about this tomorrow? With clear heads?”
You shuffle closer and his heart thuds a little faster, your knee bumping into his accidentally. “Okay.” You whisper after you’ve settled into a more comfortable position, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, Jeno senses a hesitancy in your movements.
“You can move closer.” He smiles fondly and relief floods him when your arm wraps around his waist. He draws you in, fingers stroking the nape of your neck, tucking your head under his chin. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said.”
“Shh.” You scold, earning a tiny laugh from him.
“You’re funny.” He whispers into your hair, nails softly scratching your scalp, making you shudder.
“You’re not.” You retort, half-mumbled, and he snorts. His distress has somewhat dissolved, however the tension and confusion linger and Jeno prays that a goodnight’s sleep will fix whatever it is that broke between you and him tonight.
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Jeno gets woken up by an involuntary twitch of his own body and when he slowly cracks his eyes open, he’s reminded that he once again forgot to roll his blinds down, allowing the morning sunlight to invade his room.
He attempts to get into a more comfortable position, the fruity scent you carry drifts over him, and he relaxes — you’re still here, safe and real, reminding him that last night wasn’t just a fraction of his imagination.
You’re clinging onto him; cheek squished against his chest and he’s pretty sure you’re drooling on him. He feels a laugh bubbling in his chest, but he holds it in, not wanting to wake you yet.
The position you’re both in is slightly different to the one Jeno remembers falling asleep in. You’re using him as your pillow, your leg comfortably draped over his crotch, arm hugging his middle as though he’s your favourite teddy bear and he’s convinced that you must own one with the way you cling onto him like it’s a habit.
He raises his sprawled arm to wrap it around you and the second his hand finds your lower back, he assumes the shirt he put on you last night must have ridden up. His fingers splay just above your ass and he’s instantly reminded of your naked bottom half. He vividly remembers picking up your underwear off the floor last night, along with the rest of your clothes.
The thought of your nakedness brings him back to last night. Back to what you two did and how good you looked on top of him. And under him. And on his floor. His mind drifts from your smooth skin to the way you kissed him, to the way you took everything he gave you like you were made for it, like you craved it. He knows he shouldn’t. Especially when you’re soundly asleep in his arms, but Jeno has to suppress a groan at the thought of your warm and wet p-
Your sleepy hum pulls him back to reality and he mentally presses pause on the daydreaming session, but your bent knee nudging against his half hard dick doesn’t make things easy for him. Stupid morning wood, he thinks, as if his dirty mind didn’t just cause this.
He keeps his eyes shut, trying to think of dead puppies or his gran and it seems to be working, until your body moves, your face nuzzling in his neck, knee dragging over his crotch. The long sigh you let out against his skin, causes goosebumps to raise and he mentally curses.
Redirecting his focus to your comfort, he allows his knuckles to trace gentle circles along your spine, and he smiles when you shudder slightly, the little tremble of your body sparking a sense of delight within him.
“You awake?” You mumble in his neck, the tiny movement of your lips barely even there, but still enough to tickle him.
“Just about.” His voice comes out raspy, vocal cords still half asleep, causing him to clear his throat. He subtly wiggles his hips a little further down the mattress to escape the pressure of your knee and when you move with him, clinging onto him with a whine, he can’t help but use his free hand to steady you, forcing your leg further up his torso to ease the pressure.
“Sorry.” You whisper into his skin. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“No.” He reassuringly squeezes your thigh, thumb gingerly caressing the surface. “You?”
“No. Surprisingly.” If his eyes were open, Jeno would have rolled them in annoyance.
“Yeah, cause you’re always so uncomfortable around me.” His tone full of sarcasm, but he can’t help it. If you’re going to give him attitude, you’re going to get it back. Especially this early in the day when he’s slightly hungover and has not had his morning coffee.
“Grow up. You know what I mean.” Your humourless words contrast the way your fingers softly trace the line of his collarbone, a quiet familiarity in the gesture.
“You thought it would be awkward?”
“Didn’t you?” Your head moves, nose rubbing against his jaw, and he knows you’re looking at him. He adamantly keeps his eyes closed.
“What, just cause we fucked?” The light slap he receives on his chest makes him chuckle. He’s always enjoyed getting under your skin, but for some reason, now that you’re half naked in his bed, it’s even more rewarding. “It would have been awkward only if the sex was bad.”
You keep quiet and Jeno gives into the urge to turn his head and look at you, blinking his eyes a few times, adjusting to the sunlight. He raises his eyebrows expectantly as he dips his hand under your loose shirt, fingertips light as air, traveling up and down your spine slowly.
“Is this you indirectly asking if I liked it or not?” Your eyebrows raise in response, mirroring his expression.
“No, I already know you liked it. Just wanna know if it altered your brain chemistry.” He smirks at the way you roll your eyes, and if he didn’t know you to a certain extent, Jeno would really think you’re annoyed, but he recognises your usual façade.
“Mind-blowing sex isn’t the answer to everything Lee Jeno.” Your hand engulfs his jaw, fingers squishing his cheeks and shaking his face from side to side gently. “I’m one of the very few female friends you have and you’ve already stuck your penis in me. Raw.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you very blatantly ask me to fuck you?” His pointed look gets a surrendering smile out of you, hand now settling on the side of his neck. He’s not even fazed by your proximity; noses almost touching, bodies flush against each other like you’ve done this a million times.
“You stuck you tongue down my throat and then fingered me like nobody’s business. I’m only human.” Your bluntness makes him grin.
“So, what’s the problem? We both wanted it, no?” He rolls to face you fully, leg fitting naturally between yours, touch grounding yet intimate. He tries his hardest to keep his attention on you, but the whimper you let out shows him you’re just as affected, and his hand has somehow fallen on your ass.
“Why did you want it?” The question catches him off guard; your inquisitive eyes making his heart stutter.
“I was horny. And lonely. And you looked good. I mean...You always look good, I just-” He takes a breath to compose himself. Since when does he have trouble expressing himself in front of a woman?
“Relax, it’s not a test, I’m just genuinely curious.” Your chuckle and your fingers lightly pushing his fringe out of the way help him compose his chaotic brain just a little.
“I dunno. I just wanted you.” He settles for honesty and if that comes to bite him in the ass later, then so be it. “That too shallow for you?”
“No.” Your eyes travel around his face as you’re in deep thought and Jeno feels impatience creeping up on him.
“But?” He challenges, knowing it can’t be that simple.
“But, I don’t know if I can be normal around you now.” You purse your lips as you brush his bottom one with your thumb and he stops breathing for a second, his heart rate increasing significantly. “I don’t really do casual sex.”
He likes your honesty.
“When have you ever been normal around me, Y/N?” His light-hearted comment earns him a bashful smile from you, your thumb now tracing his cheekbone as he playfully gropes the part where your thigh connects to your ass. “Look, I’m not expecting anything. If you’re uncomfortable, we can go back to normal. You get your tutoring. I get my extra credit.”
“And you’d be happy with that?” Good question.
“I’m a big boy. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you want.” He offers a way out, but part of him hopes you don’t take it.
“What if I don’t know what I want?” Your eyes close, a long sigh escaping through your nose. He wants nothing more than to make it easier for you.
He smiles, conflicted.
“Then… I dunno. I guess we figure it out.” He says it casual, like it’s nothing — but his stomach twists anyway.
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The drive back to yours is quiet. Not uncomfortable, but definitely unusual. Neither you nor Jeno are usually this quiet around each other but now your thoughts are too loud and so are your doubts.
You barely register the car coming to a stop, having completely spaced out. It’s Jeno’s voice that brings you back to reality.
“Is here fine?”
“Hm? Yeah. Here’s great. Thanks for the lift.” His eyes are already on you when you look over at him, expectant and unsure. The corner of his mouth lifts subtly, a small smile forming as a response to your gratitude.
“I’ll see you Tuesday?” The tapping of his fingers against the wheel sounds louder that it should.
“Yeah. Tuesday.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.” You repeat dumbly, not sure how to approach your next words.
“Are y-”
“This shouldn’t happen again.” You blurt out and the tapping stops, his eyebrows raising slightly, but other than that, he remains calm.
“Alright.” He nods understandingly. “It won’t.” The warmth and playfulness his voice held until this morning, long gone.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He shrugs, his fake nonchalance sitting heavy in your stomach.
“I dunno. I feel like-”
“Y/N.” His hand finds your shoulder, hold grounding. “We’re good. Honest.” He turns in his seat, facing you better. “People have sex all the time. It’s not that deep.” He squeezes your shoulder once, barely there but you still feel it as his neutral smile does very little to convince you. Simply because it doesn’t reach his eyes. You hate this unfamiliar side of him.
“It’s fine if you don’t wanna tutor me anymore.”
“I do.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, touch reassuring.
“You sure?”
“I am. As long as you are.” Another subtle squeeze, now on your upper arm, his hand having slid down. “Plus...I really need the extra credit.” His playfulness is back, and you can’t hold back the sheepish smile that takes over your face.
“Okay then.” You exhale, somewhat relieved.
“Okay then.” He repeats, light-heartedly, the warm smile now reaching his eyes as his warm hand slides further down your arm before he completely retracts. The gesture should soothe you, but it somehow unsettles you.
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Next time you see him is indeed Tuesday. Your regular first session of the week. And it’s all fine. It’s all normal. It’s all good.
Until it isn’t.
Until you see a text pop up on his screen. Yuna.
We still on for tonight? It reads and you quickly avert your eyes back on the histogram displayed on your laptop screen. Something about a survey, a sample and frequencies. It’s all a mess now. Who the fuck is Yuna? And why is she texting him? What about tonight?
You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t. But then he’s quickly typing a response you can’t see and he places his phone face down. Like it never happened.
“What’d you get?” He interrupts your ridiculous thoughts as he leans over your shoulder to take a look at the scribbles on your notepad. “Correct formula. Wrong result.”
“What? Why?” You’re more annoyed than you should be. His raised eyebrows betray his shock at your abrupt tone.
“You’re asking me why you can’t count?” His smirk is worth slapping off. “Check your total number of observations again.” He taps his pen on the letter n and when you count again, you realise it’s 6 instead of 5. Great. You really can’t count.
“That’s just a silly mistake.”
“Which will cost you a whole lot of marks.” He does this thing where he twirls the pen between his index and middle finger, and it shouldn’t be that attractive. “You see, it’s not a matter of logic with you. You just need to concentrate.” He’s enjoying this too much. His smile audible.
“I am concentrated.” You state stubbornly.
“Concentrate better.”
“Fuck off.”
His lack of response causes you to look at him. His neutral eyes and pursed lips tell you he’s not going to entertain whatever argument you’re trying to start and that agitates you even more. So does his stupid cologne. And the fact that he’s so close still. His forearm is now resting on your notepad and all you can think of is how prettily it flexed when it was between your thighs.
“Sorry.” You sigh, slumping back into your chair, looking around the quiet café. You need air and all you keep getting is his scent. It’s not fair.
“Am I allowed to ask?” His tone is tentative, but present.
“Ask what?”
“What’s bothering you.” He starts going over what you’ve written on your notepad with his pen, overlining letters and numbers, following every curve. You glance at his profile for a moment and you’re thankful he’s now focused on the page in front of you.
“Nothing is bothering me.” You cross your arms over your chest defensively.
“Lie better.” The corner of his lips twitches as he keeps outlining, still not looking at you. Smug bastard.
“Is it me?” He side-eyes you for a split second, gaze meeting yours before dropping back down to the mistaken 5 you wrote down earlier. It’s like an insult.
“That’s awfully egotistical of you.” You challenge, making him struggle to hold back his smile. “What makes you think that?”
He shrugs. “Just a hunch.”
You lean over, elbow on the table, chin resting on your palm, closer now. “Not everything is about you, Jeno.” You say as calmly as possible.
His pen comes to a halt. Eyes catching yours without backing down now.
“As if you don’t think about me 24/7.” It’s a joke, but it’s not.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” You shouldn’t give into it. Into his flirting. But he makes it almost impossible to behave.
“Is it bad if I do?”
“Not bad. You’re just wrong.”
“Like your calculations.”
“What?”
“Solve it again. No calculator. Not like it helped you the first time anyway.” He leans back in his chair with an unbothered expression, pen dropping dismissively on your notepad as he resembles your stance, arms crossing over his buff chest. “Go on, I don’t have all day.” He points his chin to the page smugly. Did he just...play you?
“Prick.”
“Mhm.”
Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? If so, then you’re astronomically fucked.
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Two weeks go by. Four tutoring sessions with Jeno — all pure torture. But somehow, focusing on the calculations and formulas actually pays off. You don’t ask as many questions anymore, you get the correct results most of the time, and you even score 76% on the mock test Jeno printed out for you.
A glimmer of surprise flashes across his face when he finishes grading, but it quickly softens into something pleased. Proud, almost.
“Nice one,” he says, head bobbing in approval. “Let’s get to 80 next time.”
You like that look on him. Like that he’s proud of you. You wish you could see it more often.
But the wish evaporates the second you lay eyes on him tonight. Regret floods you for giving in to Mark’s pleas to come to this stupid party. As if the man needs a wingman — he always does fine on his own. And so does Jeno, by the looks of it. But you already knew that. So why does your chest tighten when you see a girl standing between his spread legs, his casual perch on the kitchen counter, plastic cup in one hand, the other tucked in his hoodie pocket?
He’s not touching her, but her hands are on his thighs, and even from behind her head, you see his face clearly. Smirking, dark eyes checking her out as he sips his drink. There’s no trace of innocence in the way he’s looking at her. It’s the same way he looked at you that night in his room.
You know you’re out of bounds. Yet jealousy gnaws at you, and you hate yourself for it. It shouldn’t affect you. You rejected him — or whatever that was. He should be the one pining, not you. But he’s fine, and here you are, still haunted by how warm and safe his body felt that morning.
It’s unfair.
Unfair in every way: the way he doesn’t spare you a glance, the way his eyes are fixed on her, the way he chuckles at whatever she says, the way he looks so good even while flirting with someone else.
Hood up, fringe falling messily over his eyes. He looks soft but dangerous at the same time. Effortless. Sleeves pushed up, baggy cargos that only he can pull off. He’s hotter than ever — and she’s touching him. Not you. He’s looking at her. Not you. Laughing with her. Not you. Not you. Not you.
“Dude, you’re staring.” Mark steps in, blocking your view of the kitchen and yanking you out of your trance. You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Maybe you’re being dramatic — but Mark won’t judge. He knows. “That bad, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up.” You mumble into your palms, relaxing slightly as Mark wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying your face in his chest and lightly swaying you from side to side.
“Awh c’mon… you’re good.” Mark shakes you playfully, helping your shoulders loosen. “It’s okay to be jealous.” He lowers his voice so only you can hear him.
“This is not helping you with the babes, I’m sorry.” You wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the comfort of your friend’s embrace — and you really shouldn’t — but you sneak a glance over his shoulder. Jeno is still there, the girl still perched between his legs, still talking. But his eyes are very clearly on you. Expression neutral, as always, never giving anything away. Yet if you were to guess, he looks conflicted — maybe a little annoyed.
Fuck this. You refuse to stare, burying your face deeper into Mark’s neck instead.
“Are you two planning on fucking tonight?” A boyish voice interrupts the moment. Pulling back, you see a boy standing next to you. You recognise him — always with Jeno or some girl you’d assume is his girlfriend. And he’s in your stupid stats class, too.
“Dude, have some decorum.” Mark protests, keeping one arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “Y/N, this is Haechan. Haechan, this is Y/N.”
“Hi, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Weird, you decide.
“Umm I don’t think I—”
“No time for that. Beer pong. Me and my girl versus you two. In or out?” Haechan cuts you off, no hesitation. As much as his energy overwhelms you, a game that involves alcohol sounds like a perfect distraction.
Mark looks over at you questioningly.
“In.”
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Easy. That’s what beating Haechan and his girlfriend was. Too easy. And you’re currently obliterating Chenle and this boy, Renjun, who you’re pretty sure is Jeno’s housemate.
You make the last shot. In. Some boys around the table cheer, some point fingers at the losing team, laughing at them.
“Let’s fucking go!” Mark grabs your shoulders from behind, shaking you and you can’t help but laugh at his dramatics.
“You just got lucky.” Haechan complains loudly.
“You can’t get lucky twice.” You point out as you rearrange the cups back to a perfect pyramid shape.
“You’re just a sore loser, dude.” Mark throws the ping pong ball at the weird boy, sticking his tongue out and Haechan looks like he’s had an epiphany.
“Maybe you should play against our champions.” He says with a glint of mischief written all over his face.
“Nah, I’m-”
“Someone get Jeno and Jaemin.” Haechan interrupts you for the second time tonight and now he’s seriously starting to annoy you.
“Someone else can take my spot.” You say nonchalantly as you place the last cup at the top of the pyramid.
“Oh, grow up.” Haechan challenges again.
“Get off my back. Respectfully.”
“Didn’t think you’d be boring. Respectfully.” He’s hinting at something you can’t quite decipher, but somehow you know Jeno has something to do with it.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You raise your voice a few decibels as you step closer to the annoying boy.
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, like his words didn’t hold some cryptic meaning.
“Care to elaborate?” You stand in front of him, arms crossing over your chest expectantly, eyebrow raising and he smirks. As though getting on your nerves is his newfound hobby. Seriously, what is this dude’s problem?
“Oh, you know, just that you’re a-”
“Yooo okay, let’s break it off.” Jeno’s voice cuts in before his friend can finish his sentence and suddenly, you’re being dragged away from the scene and the people that have gathered around without you noticing. You try to stand your ground, pulling away from the hand around your elbow and before you can approach smug Haechan again, Jeno stands in front of you.
“Walk away. Right now. Please.” His expression is unreadable, but he’s definitely not pleased. You can figure that much out.
“What’s it to you?” You challenge, suspicious of his involvement.
His eyes close for a second, jaw clenching, as though he’s collecting himself and Haechan’s voice cuts through again. “Yeah, Jen-Jen, what’s it to you?”
Jeno just steps closer to you, shielding you from his friend’s antics and before you have time to react, he’s dragging you away again. Hand tight around your wrist and you let him. Not before you look back, only to find Haechan wiggling his fingers at you in a playful wave and you can’t help but flip him off. His laugh is loud and if it weren’t for Jeno, the alcohol in your system would have prompted you to start a fight. How can someone be so irritating?
Once you’re out in the back garden, you force your arm out of Jeno’s hold.
“Chill.” His instruction makes your blood boil.
“What the fuck!” You shout loud enough to get some heads turning, interrupting their smoking sessions. Jeno just chuckles, index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’s so funny?” You’re quieter now but you make sure to keep the cold tone on.
“Are you a child?” He asks with an amused smile as he leans his weight against the wall and if you weren’t so pissed off, you’d swoon at how good he looks right now.
“He started it.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a child.” Jeno points out like it’s a fact you should be aware of. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie and you realise how chilly it actually is.
“I’m assuming he knows me as the slut who slept with his friend just to get over her ex.” You move to lean against the wall next to him and he snorts at your comment.
“You know I don’t slut shame.” He says casually, his breath visible in the cold air. “Besides, is that what that was?” He’s looking down at his shoes as he kicks some pebbles into the grass. “Rebound sex?”
“You know it wasn’t.”
“So, why do you care about what Haechan thinks?”
“Cause he’s your friend.”
“He’s also a wind up.” Jeno turns his head to look down at you. “And you let him get to you.”
“He’s fucking annoying is what he is.” You scan the garden as you rest your hands behind your back, preventing the concrete from digging into your ass.
“Yeah, he’s for the thick skinned.” He says it with fondness, and it baffles you. “His girlfriend tolerates him just fine, so he must be doing something right.”
“An unsolvable mystery.” You mumble and Jeno chuckles, though you weren’t really joking.
There’s a pause. A comfortable silence between you, which in that moment you really appreciate.
“Didn’t know you were that good at beer pong.” Jeno elbows your side playfully and you almost smile, but then you remember that the only reason you decided to play was to distract yourself from him and the girl who was feeling him up.
“Surprised you even saw that.” It’s meant to be teasing, light-hearted. It’s anything but that.
“Why’s that?” His tone is devoid of any playfulness now.
“You just looked...busy.” You refuse to look at him but you feel his stare on your side profile. You feel hot all of a sudden. Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?
“So?”
“So, nothing. Just an observation.” You try your best to stay calm, but your pulse has increased significantly and you feel like throwing up. Jeno’s scoff is difficult to ignore.
“I don’t get you, Y/N.” You’re still adamantly looking anywhere else but at him, but you can imagine his expression. He’s definitely doing that thing he does with his eyebrows when he’s confused. The one that makes him look like a puppy. And you hate yourself. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” You defend quickly.
“Right.”
“What do you want from me, Jeno?” You close your eyes in exasperation.
“No. What do you want?” He moves to stand in front of you now, giving you no option but to look at him. “You fucking rejected me. You don’t get to be jealous. So why am in the wrong here?”
God, you’re such an idiot.
“What exactly did I reject?”
“What?” Genuine confusion painted all over his face.
“What did you expect? That we’d keep fucking and live happily ever after? I’m sorry, I don’t do that shit. I can’t.” Words leave before thought; regret floods instantly. You expect him to argue back, to shout, to react, but his next words hurt you even more.
“Yeah, no, I’m not doing this.” He shakes his head in disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping.
“Not doing what?”
“I’m not gonna argue with you, when you’ve already come to your conclusions.”
“So, I’m wrong then? Did you want a relationship with me? Did you wanna take me to bruch? Buy me flowers? Introduce me to your parents?” Silence. “You said it yourself. You were horny and I happened to be there. A girl doesn’t give you what you want and you act like your heart is broken. Boo-hoo, wah-wah, grow the fuck up.”
For the first time in the four months you’ve known the boy in front of you, his face is not stoic. He looks enraged, disgusted even. “You’re a fucking joke, Y/N.”
You don’t even know what can beat that. He’s right.
He steps closer and you wish you weren’t backed up against the wall. He’s too close. “I don’t know who fucking hurt you, and I don’t give a shit quite frankly. What I do know is I’m not a punching bag and I don’t like games.”
“I’m not playing a game.”
“No?” His head tilts.
“No.” Your voice comes out weak. He’s suffocating you and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Your stomach heavy.
“You say you don’t want me. Then you flirt with me every chance you get. You get moody whenever a girl’s name pops up on my phone. You hate when my attention isn’t on you. You get jealous. You make petty comments. You can’t even look at me right now. Should I go on?”
Are you really that obvious? If you had balls, he’d have you by them.
“I might fuck around, but at least I’m honest about what I want.” His index and middle finger poke you on the chest, right in the middle and he might as well carve your heart out at this point. “You’re the game player here. Not me.” He says quietly, but the words echo loudly in your head.
You blink and there’s wetness dripping down your cheek and the only thing you can do is nod, eyes avoiding his again, the stamp on his hoodie a lot more interesting, but blurry as another tear escapes. It’s not sadness. It’s anger. You’re angry with yourself mostly, but also him. Because he confuses you. Because he makes you feel vulnerable. Because he makes your heart do things it shouldn’t. And he scares you. So much. The way he grounds you scares you. The way he always talks sense scares you. The way he understands you scares you. The way he sees you...it scares you.
“Why are you crying?” There’s no malice laced with his words, just worry. A genuine question. Whispered.
“I wanna go home.” If misery could be pictured, it would be you. You sound like a spoilt child that didn’t get their favourite toy on Christmas day.
“Okay.” He doesn’t move and neither do you. You can feel his eyes on your face and you can’t help but look into them when his thumb wipes the tears off your cheek. His palm feels warm on your cold skin, soothing your heart and you wish you could bury your whole being in it. You just hide your face in it for now.
“I don’t like you when you’re mean.” You sniffle a little, half aware that he’s stepped closer now. His familiar clean scent engulfs you and you sigh in contentment. Your hands instinctively grab onto each side of his hoodie pocket and when you look up at him, you can tell he’s trying to fight off a smile. His features are on the softer side again, puppy-like. The fairy lights reflect on his eyes, illuminating tiny little star-like specks.
“Don’t make me act mean then.” His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Your pride wants you to push him away, but for some reason you let him touch you. You also let your forehead rest on his sternum, and you let his arms wrap around your shoulders, hugging you into him, into his warmth. The embrace is very similar to the one Mark gave you earlier, but so different in so many ways. It calms you like no other hug ever could. Like no one could ever compare. And maybe no one can.
“Are you still mad?” Your question is muffled by the fabric of his jumper, cheek squished against his chest, eyes closed as you bask in the proximity.
“Mhm.” He answers a little too quickly for your liking, but his arms tighten a little more around you and you can’t fight off the tiny smile that threatens to take over your face.
“Do you still like me?” You feel him tense just then and your arms wrap around his middle in fear of him pulling away.
“I mean...” You feel his chest move as he exhales loudly, his chin rests on your head. “I don’t hate you.”
“Good.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
It’s two days later that you decide to face the problem that is Lee Jeno. A normal late Sunday afternoon. You’ve done your shopping for the week, gone over some lecture notes, caught up on all your uni emails, procrastinated, even gone on a run to convince yourself that you didn’t just sit around all day. You send the text before you can talk yourself out of it, and when 15 minutes go by without a response, you start to regret it.
Are you busy tonight?
The screen laughs in your face each time you check your phone and see no new notification. Why did you decide to act brave tonight? Why are you so stupid? Of course he’s busy. He’s probably in bed with that Yuna girl, altering her brain chemistry like he did yours. You wonder if he cuddles all the girls he sleeps with like he cuddled you. All careful and possessive.
You’re about to change into your pyjamas when you hear it.
Ding.
Jeno: just got back from the gym
Jeno: need a shower and then i can be free
Jeno: how come?
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Do you reply now, or should you give it some time? Make him wait like he made you wait? NO. No games. He said it himself.
You: come to mine?
You: gigi and mark are out
You: we can talk
You: you want
You: *if
Your fingers are shaking so much you forgo typing a whole word and you can only hope he’s not laughing at you when you send the correction. Five long minutes go by before he replies again.
Jeno: i want
Jeno: gimme 30 mins
You snort at the text mocking your typo. Of course he won’t pass an opportunity to tease you. He definitely knows you’re shitting bricks.
You react with a thumbs up before you start pacing around your apartment, looking for things to do until he arrives.
First you wash up the few forgotten mugs in the kitchen sink. Then you reorganise the cereal boxes that Giselle and Mark always mess up.
He texts you a simple omw when you’re contemplating whether you should put on jeans or keep your joggers on. You decide on the latter. No need to try hard.
He knocks when you’ve just finished brushing your teeth for the second consecutive time, which you’re starting to regret because your gums sting now.
You take a deep breath before opening the door and when you do, he’s standing right there, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool as ever. His signature look. Attire matches yours: big hoodie and baggy joggers, emitting comfort and softness.
His eyes scan you like yours scan him. Head to toe. “Cute socks.” He nods in approval and when you look down at your feet, you realise you’re wearing fuzzy Christmas socks with little mistletoes on them. Great. “Swear Christmas was like a month ago.”
“They’re warm.” You step aside to let him in, and he quickly takes his shoes and jacket off by the door before trailing toward the living room area. You observe him as he carefully places his thick jacket on the back of the sofa. He inspects the room like he’s never been in your apartment before. It feels oddly domestic when he’s not here for a tutoring session.
You set your phone on silent and quickly notice the time. Apart from the fact that he’s five minutes early, it dawns on you that it’s dinner time.
“You hungry?” The words slip before you can stop them, and he swiftly turns around to look at you. You’re still leaning against the door as he plops down on the sofa armrest.
“I could eat.” He shrugs with a lopsided smile. He looks so boyfriend-coded like this. So warm and soft. Just lounging around your living room. “Unless you’re cooking.” His eyes are full of mischief, smile cheeky.
“I mean, I was thinking of ordering, but you can starve if you’re gonna insult me in my own home.”
He ends up placing the order. Something about a deal on his Deliveroo, but you know he just didn’t want you paying. Just like when he never lets you pay for your coffee but complains when you occasionally pay for his.
He’s munching on a dumpling when you’ve run out of things to talk about. You’ve covered the hangover you were both nursing the day before, his gym session and how he got hit on by a guy, your running session and how you got drenched by the rain, the stats chapter you’ll be entering next week, the fact that you both have a seminar tomorrow morning, the fact that you might skip. You talk about anything and everything but what you both really want to talk about.
“Did you stay long on Friday after I left?” You ask casually as you blow on your spring roll to help cool it down.
He shakes his head. “Nah. You left at the right time. It was dead after.” He drops his chopsticks on his plate and grabs a napkin for his hands.
“What about the girl you were with?” It slips. But at least it doesn’t sound malicious. Your eyes meet for half a second and you almost laugh at the side-eye he gives you.
“Still not over that?” He leans back on the sofa, getting more comfortable, legs spreading a little as he sips on his water.
“It’s just a question. Don’t deep it.” You take a sip of your own water before turning your body completely toward him, legs criss-crossing, arm resting on the back of the sofa.
He pulls his hood up as he slides a little further down the cushions, almost as though you’ve put him on the spot and he’s trying to hide. You find it amusing. “Nothing happened if that’s what you’re asking.” No glance toward you still; he’s too busy trying to stabilize the half-empty water bottle on his stomach and only when he fails for the third time does he look at you.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t really my type.”
You nod. “Didn’t realize you had one of those.” You twirl one of your rings with your thumb. You feel nervous suddenly but choose to push your sarcasm forward.
He blinks, unamused. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
“I judged you.” You say quickly, refusing to back down now. His eyebrows tense a little, emitting confusion for just a second. “And I’m sorry.” You chew on the inside of your cheek as you wait for a response.
He nods just once before averting his attention to the bottle again. “You’re not the first or the last person to do that.”
“I have trouble seeing the good in people.” You avert your eyes to the loose thread on your sleeve. It’s difficult staying afloat when he looks at you the way he always does. Like you’re easy to read.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” You detect a smile in his tone and you hate that you don’t have to see it to know it’s there. You expect him to ask why. He doesn’t; you sense his contemplative eyes on you still. A beat of silence passes and you find yourself trapped in it, struggling to utter more words. He helps with the worst possible question. “Why did you sleep with me, Y/N?”
“Don’t say it like that.” You let out a humourless laugh.
“Like what?” There’s expectancy in his voice. His restraint is slowly breaking.
“Like I lured you in or something.” You pull the loose thread harder. He lets out a short laugh. It sounds accidental.
“Just answer the question.” He taps on the plastic bottle as if to get your attention. “And look at me.” His eyebrows lift momentarily when you do, like a greeting. The situation seems awfully comical—or maybe it’s the fact that you struggle to stay serious in serious situations. He mirrors your barely-there smile regardless.
“There’s not just a single reason.” You can’t be more honest than that.
“Okay, so name three.” He holds his thumb, index, and middle finger up, wiggling them as he waits for you to start listing. “Go on.” He nods when he senses your hesitation.
You sigh dramatically as you look around the room, like the answers are hidden in the furniture. “I guess you’re attractive.”
“That doesn’t count. I want profound stuff.”
You scoff. “Since when?” You raise an eyebrow and his pointed look makes you back down, his three fingers waving slightly, demanding.
“You made me feel comfortable.”
Middle finger down.
“I was intrigued.”
Pointer down. He nods again when you pause for too long. It takes everything not to look down, but you don’t.
“Felt right.”
“And now it doesn’t?” He’s quick. No hesitation. No whys and hows. He sits up and turns to look at you properly, mirroring your position. One arm drapes over the back of the sofa while the other holds onto the water bottle still, one leg folded under him, the other hanging off the sofa. You like that he’s comfortable in your vicinity; it calms the turmoil inside you.
“It does. It’s just confusing.” You admit. His eyes look more alive now.
“What’s so confusing? People fancy each other. They fuck. They either make it a thing or they don’t.” For someone who normally reads you in no time, he seems to be struggling now.
“Jen, this isn’t stats. It’s not that simple.” You smile fondly at his confusion. “Besides, what exactly is this thing we could make it into?” You can almost see the gears spinning in his head. This, he doesn’t seem to have an answer for.
“This might sound wild, but I happen to know what dating is.” His widened eyes evoke a laugh out of you. Maybe he did have an answer after all.
“You wanna date me.” You deliver the question in deadpan tone.
He tilts his head a little. “Would that be so terrible?”
You purse your lips in thought. Would it? “Do you understand what that entails?” God, you sound so condescending. Like a middle-aged person.
“God forbid we go somewhere other than a café and talk about something other than stats.” The sarcasm in his voice makes you roll your eyes. Mostly because it makes him sound hot. You almost flinch when he shuffles closer, his knee touching yours. He drops the bottle he’s been fiddling with somewhere behind him and his fingers find yours in a heartbeat. Like he didn’t even think about it. Like it’s reflex.
“That’s not what I mean.” You know he knows, but you say it anyway. Your eyes find your hand in his, thumb stroking your knuckles gently before gliding over a ring, finding a new toy to fiddle with.
“I’ll be good to you.” You bring your gaze to his face. He looks almost shy, eyes on your hands and if the lighting were stronger, you might have been able to spot the blush on his cheeks better. You imagine it for now. “I don’t expect you to trust me from the get-go.” He chews on his bottom lip for a second. “But maybe— you know—maybe eventually...” He looks up, scanning your face for a reaction, which you try tremendously hard not to give because you just happen to love a pathetic man. He’s unsure, but he’s trying. You’ll give him that.
“Ask me properly.” You squeeze his fingers once and he has the cutest look of hope on his face.
“You’re going on a date with me.”
“I said ask—”
“I’m telling you.” He tugs on your arm playfully and you can’t help but gleam at his unusually playful antics.
“Alright.”
“Cool.”
“Now get out of my house.”
“Sorry?” Genuine surprise takes over his features; eyebrows furrowed to the maximum, eyes wide.
“You’re not staying the night.” You pat his thigh as you get up and start picking up the takeout boxes lying scattered on your coffee table.
“Why not?” He sounds almost offended. You laugh quietly as you walk into the kitchen.
“You’re just not.” He hasn’t moved from his spot on the sofa when you look back at him.
“I won’t try anything.”
Your pointed look forces the corners of his mouth to curl into a mischievous smile. “I’ll just cuddle you.”
“Next joke.”
“You really think I’m not capable of keeping it in my pants?” You don’t even bother responding to his silly question.
When you approach him again, you stand in front of him and with the way he looks up at you, it takes a lot to not just get on your knees for him.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” You admit, hinting at something he catches on quickly, his pleased smile difficult to miss.
He moves closer, warm hands engulfing the backs of your knees, his hood dropping as he cranes his neck to gaze up at you with pretty eyes. He looks almost innocent like this. So handsome. “At least give me a kiss.”
Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, looking for support as he pulls you closer, between his spread legs. This screams anything but innocent, and the way he nuzzles his face against your tummy has your breath hitching. You bury a hand in his hair, nails lightly scratching as he breathes you in.
“Just one, yeah?” Your quiet offer makes him look up again, eyes finding yours in an instant, chin resting on your lower abdomen. Who knew Lee Jeno could look so submissive and sexy at the same time.
“Just one. And I’ll fuck off before you know it.” You should tease him. Make him beg. But he looks too good for that. Too insatiable. And you can always make him beg another day.
You do exactly what you said you wouldn’t do. You get on your knees, between his spread ones, and now it’s you that has to look up at him. Your hands find his strong thighs and the thought that enters your mind isn’t a pleasant one. Envy flickers for a moment, remembering the girl from two nights ago, standing between his legs in a very similar position. But then you see how he looks at you and envy becomes want. He didn’t look at her like that, nowhere near.
His hands fall on top of yours before trailing up your arms and you drag your knees across the carpet to get closer. Your noses touch when his palms engulf each side of your neck, thumbs tracing your jawline, fingers reaching your nape, his touch making your knees feel weak as your heart beats faster, and you’re worried he can feel it through your pulse points.
“You know,” His top lip grazes your bottom one lightly and you can’t help but bite onto the spot he touched. “You’re doing a bit too much for just one kiss.”
“You either want it, or you don’t.” You match his low tone; afraid you’ll break the trance you both seem to be in, your fingers lightly squeezing his thigh muscles in encouragement.
You see his smirk and then you don’t. Your eyes drop shut the second his mouth is on yours, claiming. His palms feel warm on your cheeks, his lips soft on yours but demanding, thighs tensing under your wandering hands, and you feel dizzy as you let him tilt your head as he pleases, let his tongue in your mouth, let him taste you. It’s wet and it’s loud and it’s hot, the neurons in your brain already useless.
You really should pull away, not give in to him so easily, but one hand is in your hair now, tugging, the other around your throat, gentle but assertive, and the whimper you let out is embarrassing. Your hands clench around the fabric of his joggers; your pussy around nothing, and that’s when you abruptly push him away, hands on his firm chest. You think your ears deceive you, but you swear Lee Jeno just whined. A needy, pathetic whine. So beautiful. It makes something coil in your chest, a pulse of heat you didn’t expect, a reminder of just how much power he has over you in a single sound.
His back is against the sofa cushions now, and he looks defeated, chest visibly moving. “You’re a fucking menace.”
You laugh a little too loudly at how out of breath he sounds, as though he didn’t just have full control of that kiss. His lips are shiny, a darker shade of their usual pink, and you lick at yours, realizing they must be just as wet. You can still taste him, and your walls flutter around emptiness again. You’re tempted to look down and check whether he’s also affected, but you withhold. That would make things so much worse.
“I promised one kiss. I gave it to you.” You pat his thighs gently, and his hands catch yours again, fingers interlocking this time. It’s your heart that flutters this time.
“Alright, Dua Lipa.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno has always known you’re trouble. He’s always pitied the guy you’ll end up with—or anyone who falls for you. Not because you’re not a catch, but because he views you as someone hard to say no to. And now… he’s exactly the kind of guy he pities. He’s never thought of himself as a weak man. But here he is, walking you home after your regular Tuesday session, pretending he’s listening to your rant about some professor who hates you and struggling not to make his fascination obvious. Because he really is fascinated—by the way you move your hands, the way you furrow your eyebrows in frustration, the way you swear a little too much when you’re stressed, and the way you say “what the fuck,” because what the fuck is wrong with him?
He can’t stop thinking about how adorable you looked earlier when you drew a Venn diagram correctly, how your eyes lit up when you got his validation, how you gasped when the only thing he said was “good job.” Not because he has some weird claim on you, but because he likes how determined you are to do well. And he likes that he’s helping you. But most of all, he likes that you’re succeeding. Jeno is positive you don’t even need his help to pass the module anymore, but he can’t bring himself to tell you that just yet—simply because he likes that you want his help.
It’s been two days since that obliterating kiss, and Jeno keeps pondering. You. How you got on your knees. How you touched him. How you sounded. How easily you ruined him with just one kiss. He knows he’s already slept with you, but for some reason, that kiss beats any other moment he’s had with you. It was too good. Too much. And oh, what he would give to experience that again.
“You free this Friday?” The question slips mid-thought, and the silence that follows makes him turn his head to look at you. He struggles not to laugh at your dumbfounded expression, pursing his lips to control the smile that threatens to take over his face.
“You weren’t listening just now, were you?” You scold, though the tone of amusement is still evident.
“Nah. Not really.” He blatantly admits, getting a kick out of annoying you.
“Dickhead.” You huff in the cutest way possible.
“Friday.” He repeats stubbornly as you’re nearing your building. “Free or not?”
“What exactly am I walking into here?” You ask carefully, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“An orgy.”
“Yeah, alright, get me involved.” Your bored tone shouldn’t make him smile.
He sighs in annoyance, because there’s no way you don’t know what he’s hinting at. “I wanna take you out, you pleb.”
“Pleb?”
He groans dramatically. “Oh my god—”
“I’m actually not.”
“What?”
“I’m not free on Friday. I promised Gigi I’d do movie night.” No way. Fuck that. There’s no way he’s asking you out and you’re rejecting him.
“You serious? You’re blowing me off for some movie night?” He knows he should tone it down. He’s sounding hurt, and it’s not that deep. It shouldn’t be.
“I’m not blowing you off—”
“You so are. Royally.” He can’t help but feel a little defeated. He’s never winning with you.
“I can do Saturday.” You say with a hopeful tone, and Jeno feels some relief at the fact that you’re not entirely rejecting him.
“I said I’d go to this stupid party on Saturday.” He grumbles. He doesn’t even want to go, but you’re not willing to cancel your plans for him. So why should he?
“Right, well… we’ll have to do next week then.” The disappointment in your voice makes his heart jump and his stomach clench. Why do you keep doing that? Until now, it was his head. Now, you’re messing with his heart and stomach too? It’s unfair.
“Why don’t you come with me?” He offers, hoping it doesn’t make him seem weak. Although he knows that’s exactly what he is—a weak, needy, pathetic man. For you.
“To your stupid party?” You almost sound offended, and now he regrets even asking.
“Yeah.” He sighs as you both come to a halt outside your building. It’s dark already, and the streetlights reflect prettily on your face, accentuating your features. Your nose is a little red from the cold, and you’re in thought, teeth catching your bottom lip as you consider his invitation.
“That’s not really taking me out though, is it?” You try shyly. You never tiptoe around things. And Jeno hates that he loves that.
“I just want to spend time with you, Y/N.” He attempts to lower his guard a little but realizes how awfully intimate his words sound. Oh well. “We can show face for a bit, and then we can just fuck off if it’s boring, go somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Disneyland.” He deadpans again, trying to put on the fakest smile he can, but unintentionally, it transforms into a genuine one. He blames the cute way you roll your eyes at him. So unamused.
“Wow, you’re on a roll today. How will I ever recover from this laughter?” You sound bored, but he sees how hard you’re trying to hold back your smile.
“God, you’re annoying.” And he’s not lying. You are so fucking annoying. And so fucking pretty. He blames the streetlights. And his stupid heart.
You outright laugh at his exasperation, and Jeno finds himself in a predicament. He could ignore you, move on with the conversation, or he could shut you up. It’s an easy decision.
The cute sound of surprise you let out when his lips crash onto yours is imprinted on his brain, and so is your soft touch on his chest, and so is the way you kiss him back, matching his eagerness, and so is your taste, and so is the way your body molds into his. It all just fits perfectly. You fit perfectly.
Your nose feels cold against his cheek, but the back of your neck feels hot against his frosty fingers, and he wonders when it became such a normal thing for him to notice details like that. A kiss is a kiss. There shouldn’t be any science behind it. That’s what he always thought. Until that night you sat with him on the carpet at the foot of his bed.
A wet smooching sound echoes in the cold of the evening when he pulls away, and he can’t fight his smile seeing how you lean closer, chasing after his lips.
“Come.” He whispers, both your breaths visible.
“Huh?” You sound lost, blinking quickly as though adjusting back to reality. Did he just kiss you, stupid?
“On Saturday. Come with me.” He sounds like he’s begging now, and he hates it. That’s what it’s come to.
He trails his hands down your arms, over your thick jacket, and the bashful expression on your face makes his pulse fasten as he threads his fingers through yours.
“Okay. I’ll come.” Success.
“Good.” He leans down, leaving another chaste kiss on your lips before he can chicken out, and then, as you’re about to speak, he’s walking away.
“Dude, what th—”
“You better have that mock test ready for Thursday!” He shouts over his shoulder, and he wishes his resolve was stronger, but he can’t fight the need to look back. And the confusion on your cute face is so worth it.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno doesn’t know what to do with himself.
There you are. A few feet away from him, in this crowded space, conversing with some girls he’s never met before. So confident, carrying yourself so gracefully, your laugh audible and sweet. So sweet, so intoxicating, so heart-wrenching.
He brought you here. And for some reason, he expected you to not leave his side; to crowd him, to be needy and demand his attention. As always, he was mistaken. He should know by now, you’re not like most girls he’s associated himself with. But he’s a fool. A fool who keeps misjudging you and putting you in the same basket as everyone else.
And there you always are. Proving him wrong every single time.
“What’s with the long face?” Haechan’s voice cuts through Jeno’s trail of thought.
“No long face.” Jeno quickly dismisses the accusation. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking at a party? You must be in serious trouble.” As much of a smart-ass as his friend can be, he’s got the tendency of being right most of the time. And just like now, he’s always smug about it, the irritating smirk on his face proof.
“Fuck off.” Jeno mutters, always harmless. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to bless with your annoying-ass face?”
“And bless her I shall.” Haechan sings, making Jeno snort at his silliness. “Quit yearning and just go talk to her, you dumb-ass bitch. You look like you’ve seen a litter of dead puppies.” Haechan whispers aggressively as he walks away swiftly, before Jeno can have the pleasure of shoving him.
“Wet wipe.” Jeno curses under his breath as he watches his friend lovingly wrap his arms around his girlfriend, his face nuzzling into her neck as she smiles bright. It’s sweet and it’s disgusting, and the undeniable feeling of envy fills Jeno. He’s envious of them both. Because as disgusting as they can be, they’re happy. And they don’t fail to remind him every fucking second.
When Jeno redirects his vision to you, he’s met with your eyes, and you shatter him with the sweetest smile you’ve ever given him. And there goes his poor heart again. His lips move on their own, returning the gesture without permission, and when you extend your hand in his direction, wordlessly asking him to join you, there goes his stomach. His legs seem to work on their own, because in a few seconds, he’s pushing himself off the wall, crossing the room, and in a few more, Jeno’s got your hand in his.
“Hey.” You greet quietly, with a small squeeze around his fingers.
“Hey, yourself.” He instinctively pulls you closer into his side and you smile wider, looking down bashfully, the group you were chatting with long forgotten behind you.
“Having fun?” You seem genuinely interested, and for some reason, Jeno feels weak. Words don’t come easily in that moment, so he just shrugs, nose scrunching a little.
“You?”
“Eh, I’m too sober.” The way you wrap both arms around his has him in a chokehold, and Jeno looks around at the chaos of the party, then back down at you.
“Wanna get out of here?” He asks, relieved that your eyes light up with hope.
“Disneyland?” You tease, a tiny smirk adorning your face. Jeno chews on his bottom lip to prevent his own smile.
“Disneyland.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno’s place is relatively tidy compared to last time you were there. Some books are scattered here and there, a plant struggling to stay alive in the corner, a used-up mug on the coffee table. Though very evident that it’s a boys’ house, you can smell the laundry detergent. It’s messy but clean, and for some reason, that makes you feel a sense of warmth.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You twirl your finger in the air, gesturing at the space as you walk further inside the living room.
He snorts as he takes off his shoes, placing them next to yours. “Did you expect a crack den?”
“Sure looked like one last time.” You stand in front of the bookshelves, scanning all the titles they’ve collected. “I’m assuming these aren’t all yours.”
“And why would you assume that?” He’s standing a lot closer than you thought; you can almost feel his body heat seeping through your thick jumper.
“Dunno.” You stay put, refusing to turn around and look at him. “You don’t strike me as much of a reader.”
He lets out a short laugh, his breath hitting the back of your neck. Oh, he’s close—close.
“And what do I strike you as?” His fingers make contact with the back of your hand, lightly tracing until his index hooks around your pinky. The gesture feels a lot more intimate than it should, and even though it’s the least sexual thing anyone could do, you feel yourself getting hot.
“As someone who reads because they should, not because they want to.”
“Wow.” His whisper hits your ear as his thumb fumbles gently with the ring you’ve got on your pinky. “You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?”
“Not really, no.” Your breath hitches slightly as he wraps his other arm around your middle, pulling you flush against him. His chest feels hard against your back, and his breathing is definitely a lot more stable than yours, but his heartbeat doesn’t match his calmness. It’s oddly comforting.
He doesn’t stall when you turn around. His lips instantly find yours. No teasing, no hesitation.
He’s everywhere.
You feel him everywhere, and your heart hurts from the intensity. From how gentle he is. From how slow he kisses you compared to all the other times.
You’re worried he can feel the heat radiating off your skin when his hand cradles your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone so delicately you feel hysterical. The whimper you let out seems to encourage him as he tilts his head a little, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help but part your lips more, desperate to taste him.
Your hands slither up to his hair, threading through the short strands, and a moan escapes from your throat when he pushes you into the bookshelf, his tongue obscenely licking into your mouth, tangling with yours in a wet mess.
“You hungry?” He mutters into the kiss, clearly with no intention of pulling away, but your arms circle his neck, holding him closer—just in case he made the unacceptable choice of stopping.
“Mm-mm.” Your refusal vibrates between your mouths as you kiss him harder, his uncoordinated breathing egging you on as you walk him backward, blindly leading your tangled bodies to the sofa.
“Thirsty?” He’s smiling as he lets you guide him, his hands grabbing onto your hips, refusing to put space between your bodies.
“No.” You clumsily stumble over your feet, and his arms around you help you regain your balance, his light chuckle hitting you on the lips, breath hot against you, as he harshly lands on the sofa cushions, eagerly helping you straddle him as though being apart from you is unfathomable.
“Guessing you’re not tired either.” He barely gets to finish the sentence before a grunt leaves him; your fingers pulling harshly at his hair as you shamelessly shove your tongue in his mouth, easily shutting him up. He slumps against the sofa with a sigh against your lips, hands limply resting on your ass as he lets you take control.
“What about you? You tired?” You break the kiss with a loud, wet smack, your hand around his neck preventing him from trailing after you. You tighten your hold when he attempts to move again, and you revel in the sight of his confused expression. It's almost like a newfound pleasure, like it’s something he didn’t know he wanted until now. You can tell by the tensing of his eyebrows, the quick blinking of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw, the clawing at your ass cheeks.
He’s never been put in his place before, and it shows.
“Answer me.” You instruct seductively, lips brushing his as you grind down on the very evident erection suffocating in his jeans.
“Fuck—no. I’m not fucking tired.” He grits, nostrils flaring in annoyance, and his harsh expression earns a smirk from you as you make sure to press harder on the sides of his neck. A mean laugh tumbles out of you as his resolve breaks, eyes rolling back the second you grind down again, the fabric of your jeans rubbing against your throbbing clit deliciously, but you ignore the pleasure, focusing on how responsive Jeno’s body has suddenly become.
He could easily overpower you, take matters into his own hands, ruin you if he wanted to, and that knowledge turns you on a lot more than it should. Because he’s actively choosing to be submissive. He’s silently asking to be choked, succumbing to the power you didn’t know you held over him. Until now.
“You’re kinda pathetic, Jen.” You whisper in his ear, his moan vibrating between your chests as you leave a little kiss on his cheek. “It’s cute.”
“Fuck off.”
You’re not sure if it was meant to come out harsh, but it’s far from it. It’s whiny and breathless.
“That’s mean.” You coo at him, another soft kiss left on his cheek before a theatrical pout takes place on your lips. “You promised you’d be good to me.”
“You’re the one who’s being mean.” His head turns so he can look at you, arms wrapping tightly around you, and you can’t help but loosen your hold around his throat.
He’s blinking slowly, breathing shallowly, and you swear his hazy eyes are going to be the death of you. He looks weak and sweet and so fucked out, and if it weren’t for the next words that leave his mouth, you would have held your ground.
“I like you.” He whispers. So casual but so lethal at the same time. “A lot.”
You sit up a little, and he follows after you, arms tightening around you as he buries his face in your chest, sighing heavily, making your heart go crazy. He can definitely feel it.
“Say something.” His words are muffled against the fabric of your jumper, and you can’t tell when exactly you started stroking his hair, both hands softly threading.
“I like you too.” You murmur in his hair, inhaling the boyish but sweet smell of his shampoo, and you smile when his shoulders visibly relax.
“Stay tonight.”
You know what he’s asking, and when he looks up at you, you also know it’s game over.
You give him a little nod before leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, his surprised expression making you feel giddy. “I’ll stay.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Lee Jeno is a lot of things.
He’s stubborn and annoying and cocky at times and he’s annoyingly smart and good with numbers which makes him a good tutor. He’s nice at times too, and funny and oddly endearing. He’s also incredibly hot, and cute, even though he hates being called that.
But you’ve always known those things.
What you didn’t know is how incredibly and unfairly good he is at giving head. Out of this world good. And as much as you hate it you also can’t help but love it. What you love the most, however, is how much he seems to love it.
“Holy shit, Jen, slow down.” You pant, thighs shaking in overstimulation, your body trying to comprehend the intense orgasm it just went through, but Jeno doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck.
“Shut up and keep your legs open.” He mutters into your drenched pussy, arousal and spit coating the lower half of his face, the scene before you incriminating as you struggle to do as he says with a pathetic whine.
“I’m too sensitive, you psycho.” Your futile attempt to harshly pull at his hair, backfires as he shoves two fingers in your dripping hole, a string of spit landing on your clit, thumb replacing his tongue in harsh circles. His fingers reach deeper than yours ever have, stimulating the sensitive spot inside your walls with ease.
“Don’t want my tongue? Fine. You’re taking my fingers.” His hand is thrusting roughly, digits barely pulling out as he creates a vibration-like motion, abusing your g-spot like nobody’s business.
“Oh my god!” Your screech is embarrassing, and so is the way your trembling fingers grip his bedsheets. What really is mortifying, though, is how loud your cunt is. The lewd sounds are almost offensive to your dignity, which seems to be out the window by now. You feel too hot, sweat dripping down your temples and you wish you had the energy to take off your top, the intense pleasure clouding all your senses.
“Just accept that you’re gonna cum again.” The sweet kiss he leaves on your inner thigh highly contrasts the way he’s violently fucking into your sopping cunt and you can’t help but give into it. Because he’s right. You’re going to cum again. “There we go, baby, just take it.”
“Fuck, it’s too much, y-you're too deep.” You cry, asking for a little bit of mercy that doesn’t seem likely to come your way.
“You’re dripping though.” His hot breath fans on your centre, free hand pressing into your belly, holding you hostage. “Literally ruining my sheets.”
His humiliating words do something to you, and unfortunately, he seems to notice the way you clench around his fingers, the way your back arches a little more. “Thought you didn’t like me being mean, baby.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Your voice comes out whiny, no threat laced in it whatsoever, and his laugh is sinister, openly mocking your desperate state, pushing you over the edge unexpectedly. “Fuck, I’m cumming.”
Your body tenses, chest heaving, walls clamping down on his fingers, forbidding any further movement, but his thumb is relentless, rubbing your poor clit through your high.
“Shit, baby.” He whispers, the sound barely reaching your buzzing ears. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you reach for anything that can pull back to the surface. Your nails dig into his arm, the one draped over your stomach and he quickly laces his fingers with yours, understanding what you need. “You’re good. I’ve got you.” He trails gentle kisses up and down your thigh, the action soothing, helping you back to a more coherent state.
“I fucking hate you.” You pant. No irritation in your tone, just defeat and deliriousness.
He chuckles against your skin, fingers slowly pulling out of your heat. “No, you don’t.”
Your hands instinctively caress his hair as he starts dragging your top up your torso, a kiss left on every newly uncovered inch of skin. You help him by sitting up a little, arms raising and then hands finding his face as soon as the garment is off, pulling him in for a slow kiss he so easily gives into. You can feel his grin, and it makes you chuckle softly against his lips but neither of you pulls away.
Within seconds, your back arches, making room for his hands as they unclasp your bra and once it’s gone, you eagerly wrap your arms around his neck, craving to feel his skin on yours, sighing at the way your sensitive nipples drag against his warm chest.
It’s quiet and loud at the same time. No words are exchanged as you intimately make out with him. It’s all heavy breathing, a whimper here and there, the rustling of his sheets, the wet sound of kissing, one of your phones’ buzzing as neither of you seems to care. It’s a soft moan of yours that breaks the silence, and then one of his as he slowly grinds his jean-clad cock into your tingling pussy, the material harsh on your hypersensitive clit.
His arms cage your head, supporting his weight as he makes room between your bodies for your hands, trembling fingers clumsily unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, your hands blindly shoving the material down, both of you to stubborn to pull away from the sloppy kiss you’ve trapped yourselves in.
“Mmh- just- fuck sake.” You mumble in his mouth and he lets out a small laugh as he reluctantly pushes off you to remove the rest of his clothes hastily. You smile at his erratic movements, relishing in the fact that he’s as needy as you are.
His mouth is back on yours within seconds, body finding home between your parted legs, fitting just perfectly and you breathe harshly when his cock prods at your entrance.
“Do we need a condom?” He murmurs breathlessly, eyes meeting as his face hovers just inches above yours. You find it cute how he remembers about protection now, when he’s already finished inside you before.
“You’re clean?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no.”
He nods with a shaky exhale, and you pull his face closer, not being able to stand any space between you. One arm sneaks around his neck, the other circles his shoulder blade, holding onto him as you prepare for the intrusion, craving the stinging sensation you felt last time he entered you.
His tip bumps your clit a few times as he rubs the length of his cock between your folds, coating himself in your arousal.
“So wet, baby.” It sounds pained and you’re slowly starting to lose any restraint that’s left in you.
“Please, fuck me.” You whine into the dip of his shoulder, hips twitching, raising to find friction.
The head of his cock kisses your entrance, and the second you start to feel the delicious pressure, he slips, finding your clit once again, making you inhale sharply. You’re so wet, it’s embarrassing.
“Shit, sorry.” He utters the rushed words as he looks down, between your bodies, one arm propping him above you.
“It’s okay, just try again.” You caress the back of his neck softly as you patiently wait for a stretch that doesn’t come. He’s still, breathing heavily as he looks down, forehead dropping to your shoulder and now you’re starting to get concerned.
“You okay?” You ask in confusion, as your hands reach for his face, but he hides in your neck.
“I’m- this is fucking embarrassing.” His body is trembling and you have no choice but to wrap your arms around him, still not understanding what he’s going on about.
“Jen, what’s wrong?”
Did he change his mind or something? Did he just realise he’s not that into you? Or did he just remember he’s got chlamydia?
“I’m actually freaking out. What is hap-
“I’ve gone soft.”
Oh.
“My dick is soft.” He rephrases, voice muffled in your neck and you try your best not to laugh at his pained tone, by hiding your face in his shoulder. Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh.
It's pointless. Inevitable. A snort escapes. He tenses.
“Are you fucking laughing?”
“No.” Your arms tighten around his shoulders, trapping him, or preventing him from seeing your pursed lips.
“I actually fucking hate you.” He exasperates, lips grazing your skin, but he lets his weight slump on you regardless. And you feel it. He really is soft.
“Are you nervous?” You’re not mocking, just asking genuinely as your thumb strokes his temple, nails gently scratching his scalp, trying to offer some comfort through his embarrassment.
“Why would I be nervous?” He defends quickly, stubbornness coating his voice.
“Chill. It’s just a question.”
“I’m not nervous.” He persists. He really is incapable of lying.
“You’re overthinking then.” You start tracing patterns on his shoulder with your free hand as his breathing becomes more stable.
“What’s there to overthink? It's sex.” He sighs as your toes tickle the back of his knee, foot slowly caressing his leg.
“Erectile dysfunction?” You joke and he huffs out a breath in annoyance, tickling your neck, goosebumps raising. You hum in thought, pretending to be in search of other reasons for his little mishap. He shivers as you lazily start scratching up and down his back, your other hand still in his hair, slightly tugging.
“Maybe you’re just not that into me then.” A smirk tugs on your lips as he playfully bites down on your shoulder.
“Yeah.” He nuzzles your jaw. “That must be it.” He starts kissing along the bone, his hand cradling the other side of your face, urging you to face him and he’s miserably failing to hold his smile back, just like you are. He cutely brushes his nose against yours and your brain malfunctions for a second. Never did you think Lee Jeno would be eskimo kissing you in bed right after he got a limp dick because he got too nervous.
But here you are.
“You know,” Your hand caresses his wrist as his hand buries in your hair. “You can be really cute sometimes.” Your lips find the tip of his nose, and he slightly flinches as the tender gesture, coaxing a giggle out of you that gets interrupted by his hand roughly pulling at your hair and you know your tactic to get him riled up is working.
Your whine is muffled by his lips, tongue forcing its way into your mouth like it’s his mission to shut you up and you revel in the dominance he asserts. A big hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing a little tighter than you expect, making you feel dizzy as his tongue claims your mouth in the filthiest way possible. Drool smears on your chin and the little twitch you feel on your belly forces a satisfied moan out of you.
“This cute enough for you?” He breathes into your mouth, his hips grinding with force, hardening cock sliding between your wet folds, cunt throbbing with need.
“Whatever cutie, just try not to go soft on me again.”
A sarcastic laugh tumbles out of him. “You trying to piss me off?”
“Yes.”
“I will literally fuck you into oblivion.” He mumbles in your ear, his teeth trapping the lobe between them before he starts trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck, hand moving to fondle one of your breasts, fingers harshly squeezing, claiming, making you mewl.
“Please, do.” You beg cutely, legs wrapping around his waist, heels pushing him into you more as your hips lift momentarily as you feel a new gush of arousal dripping out of you, smearing between your bodies. You just know it’s a mess down there.
Two of his fingers find your entrance, swirling through the wetness before he abruptly shoves them in to stretch you out again and before you have time to adjust, two become three, stretching your tight hole to the max. Your moans are unrecognisable, downright pornographic and you can’t imagine how good his cock is going to feel. You’re so horny, you feel like you’re going to pass out.
“Jen- oh fuck- please just put it in.” Your hands grab his face, forcing his eyes onto yours, showing him how blinded with desperation you are. You really want him. And he seems to share the same sentiment. His dilated pupils show you that much.
He kisses you stupid again, tongue tasting you hungrily as he fucks his fingers into you deep and slow a few more times and then emptiness. He kisses you harder when you whine in protest, but it’s the fat head of his cock prodding at your hole that really shuts you up and this time he doesn’t slip out. This time you feel the sting you so impatiently were craving.
Your walls flutter around him, but they welcome his thick length greedily, sucking him as he sinks in slowly.
“Oh my god.” He utters breathlessly as his pubic bone finds yours, hips grinding to help you both get used to the stimulation, mouth dropping open against yours as you bite down on his lip, not caring if your draw blood because it all just feels divine.
“Move.” You plead, letting your legs spread wide for him, your hands burying in his hair as you bring his lips to your again, needing him closer.
“Stop clenching so hard. Feels like you’re pushing me out.” He whispers softly, following up with a slow kiss, his hand caressing your thigh as he holds himself up on one forearm by your head, thumb stroking your temple gingerly and you instantly feel yourself relax a little.
“Sorry.” You murmur into the kiss, feeling him smile against you, your stomach doing that thing it always does when he does the most insignificant things.
He finally starts moving, slow and deep, cock stimulating every nerve ending in your walls and you’re so sensitive you feel every ridge, every vein, the slight curve of his length and the way he thrusts a little upwards doing wonders to that sweet spot deep inside you.
He leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek before letting his head drop, face burying in your neck, hot breaths hitting your skin deliciously as you both lose yourselves to the consuming pleasure. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, quiet moans filling the space of his room as his pace quickens slightly, the hand on your thigh slipping between you and the mattress, softly squeezing your ass cheek, keeping you in place, grounding you like you need him to.
“Fuck, baby.” The sweet petname, whispered in your ear, makes your pussy clench around him and he lets out a muffled grunt. His fingers squeeze the flesh of your ass a little harder and his hips start snapping against yours, wet slaps echoing as he fucks you with short and hard thrusts. “You like that?”
“Yes.” You sigh into his neck, nails clawing at his shoulder blades as you take what he’s giving you, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock starts abusing your g-spot, barely pulling out before fucking back into your needy cunt. You feel incredibly close and you’re almost shocked he’s managed to bring you this close to an orgasm so quickly, just with his cock. “Fuck- I’m s-sorry- I think I’m gonna cum.”
“I can feel you.” He moans and raises his head to look at you. “It’s okay, don’t say sorry. I want you to.” His hips maintain their perfect rhythm, stimulating the gummy spot inside you as well as your swollen clit. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, not being able to handle his intense stare and another moan from him is what send you over the edge. It’s intense, mind-consuming, your legs shake as he fucks you through it like he’s made for it, messily kissing you, groaning into your mouth as you violently squeeze his cock, walls almost pushing him out, but his thrusts unfaltering.
“Jesus.” He pants as you cry out, the pleasure now bordering overstimulation, but he doesn’t slow down. His back is drenched in sweat, your fingers slipping as they try to hold onto something and he immediately pins your hands above your head as he starts fucking you harder; bruising, animalistic thrusts melting your brain into mush.
“J-Jen, I’m- oh f- I can’t-
“Shhh. You can. It’ll feel good again.” His tongue finds yours in a kiss full of teeth and spit and you can barely focus on anything, too fucked out to function properly. You’re thankful you’re at least breathing. “You’re mine. Right, baby?”
Holy fuck. What is happening?
“I am?” You mumble against his lips, your heart going ballistic.
“You’re my girl, no?” He holds your arms pinned with one hand as the other cradles your jaw, eyes finding yours.
“Yes.” You breathe out pathetically.
“Say it.” He demands with a sharp thrust, balls slapping against your ass, your arousal coating your inner thighs as he grinds into you.
“I’m your girl.” The tip of his cock brushes your abused spot again, mind-numbing pleasure building again, like it never went away.
“Fuck yeah, you are.” He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking before releasing. “Mine.”
Your breathing is laboured as his hips resume their ministrations. Fucking you hard and fast towards another high that seems to come even quicker than the previous one. It’s like he’s forcing them out of you. And you know you’re going to be ruined for any other man after this. You really are his. He owns you. But you can’t say that. You refuse to admit it. Even as he’s balls deep in you, fucking you into oblivion, exactly like he promised.
“Are you mine?” It slips out before you can register the thought. You blame his dick.
He moans. It’s strangled and deep, his eyebrows tensing as he blinks quickly, as though trying to comprehend your words. It’s cute and hot at the same time. “Fuck- you know I am.”
“Tell me.” You whisper, short-breathed, nuzzling your nose with his, your foreheads almost touching and his eyes roll back when your walls flutter around him again. What a sight.
“I’m yours, baby.” He grunts as you purposely tighten around him and you didn’t think it was possible, but he fucks you harder, the sounds obscene, your back arching as he sits up, kneeling between you spread legs, pushing them up to your chest, fucking you so deep you have to brace your hands against the headboard, a loud cry leaving your throat. “All yours. All for my girl.”
“Oh my god.” You exhale harshly, nails digging into wood as his words send you into a frenzy. “Fuuuuck I’m gonna cum.” Your tone pleading and he can’t do anything other than oblige.
“Uh-huh, cum for me, baby.” He whispers, head hanging low as he lets a good amount of saliva dribble from his mouth onto where you’re both connected, and your broken moan echoes around the walls of his room when the digit quickly finds your swollen clit, all wet and slippery from arousal and spit. He flicks the nub in quick up and down motions as he tries to keep the same angle of his hips.
A particularly soft flick of his thumb is what makes your body seize, drowning you in obliterating pleasure as your pussy squeezes tight around him again, this orgasm even more intense than the previous one, if not the most intense one you’re ever had in your whole existence.
He pulls out with a grunt, hovering over you again, a deep kiss left on your lips before he continues down to your neck, sucking and licking, marking your sweaty skin, and you whimper weakly when his tongue finds a nipple, his big hands squishing your sensitive tits and you don’t have it in you anymore to deny him anything. He can do as he pleases.
“So pretty.” He mumbles, completely lost in his own little world that seems to be occupied only by your nipples and tits as he lathers them in his spit, licking and sucking like man starved.
Before you have time to regain your breathing, you’re on your front, face buried in his pillows as his hands grab onto your hips.
“Ass up for me, baby.” He helps you get on your knees, back arched, tits squished against his mattress. “Spread your legs.” He gently taps your outer thigh and you oblige with a whimper as he starts leaving wet kisses on one of your ass cheeks, hands kneading the flesh.
“What are you doing?” You mumble, slightly panicked as he gets closer and closer to your asshole.
You attempt to look back when no answer comes, but your head drops back down in defeat as his tongue licks a fat stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. The moan that erupts from your throat is broken, surprise evident as you tangle your fingers in his sheets.
“What the fuck.” You whisper, rushed words muffled by Jeno’s pillows. Your jaw slackens as his tongue languidly circles your sopping hole, dipping lightly, tasting you shamelessly and within seconds it travels back down to your clit, flicking it from side to side with the tip of his tongue, making your legs tremble, struggling to hold you up.
You’re a mess down there, you know it. The filthy sounds filling the room, prove that much. He’s sloppy with it; making out with your pussy like he’s thirsty, tongue everywhere, even slipping up to your other tight hole a few times, coating you in his spit wherever he can reach.
“Shit.” He rasps. “I could eat this pussy for days, baby.”
“Jen-”
“So perfect.” He mumbles in awe, his lips brushing your sensitive clit before wrapping around it, sucking harshly, tongue flicking in quick motions, driving you crazy, turning you into a blabbering mess, a hand reaching behind you to tangle in his hair, pulling desperately.
“Please fuck me. Want your cum in me.” You don’t even know where that filth came from, but you can’t bring yourself to care in the slightest. You think you might lose the plot if he doesn’t stick his cock in your aching pussy right this second.
Thankfully, your begging deems rewarding. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he repositions and the sound you make when he stuffs you to the brim in one motion, resembles a scream.
“Yeah? My girl wants my cum?” His voice barely reaches your ears over your loud moans as he starts thrusting into you in no time. Hard and fast. And you feel him in your fucking throat; the position allowing him to go deeper than anyone has before. His hands grab onto your waist, fucking you silly onto his cock, his balls slapping your poor clit deliciously and you’re positive you’re drooling onto his pillow.
“Oh, my fucking god. Right there.” You plead urgently as his tip nudges your g-spot for the umpteenth time tonight, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull, arms crossing over the small of your back, silently asking him to take complete control over your spent body.
“Shit, Y/N.” He pants, one hand taking hold of your wrists, the other grabs onto your shoulder, forcing you onto his cock, the wet slaps of his hips onto your ass turning you on beyond belief. You arch your back more, craving to feel him as deep as possible and his moan tells you he’s equally as affected. “You look so good like this.”
You twist your neck, looking over your shoulder, desperately searching for his eyes. You know you look destroyed, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you want him to see, want him to know what he’s done to you, that it’s all him.
The second his gaze meets yours, you know it’s game over for both of you. He looks unreal, sweat dripping from his temples down to his neck, chest glistening and heaving, abs flexing beautifully each time he thrusts forward. You know he can feel your walls tightening. His eyes closing momentarily, jaw clenching, his hold around your wrists becoming so deliciously painful, you hope it leaves a mark.
The hand on your shoulder slips in your hair, pulling, forcing you off the mattress as he leans forward, slotting your lips with his in a sloppy kiss. It’s full of tongue, saliva and need. You love it. You love everything he’s doing to you.
“You gonna cum one more time for me, yeah?” He whispers wetly against your lips, spit smearing on both your chins and you can’t help but nod dumbly. “Good girl.”
Your face is shoved in his pillow again and next thing you know, he’s fucking the living shit out of you, hand now at the base of your nape as his hold around your wrists doesn’t loosen.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me.”
It’s the primal, raw need in his voice along with the brush against your sweet spot that has you teetering over the edge again. It’s overwhelming. Your fists clench at the small of your back, legs shaking and weren't he holding you in place, you would have collapsed on the mattress limbless.
A tear escapes from the corner of your eye from the intensity, trickling down to the pillowcase and you thank the universe when you hear a deep grunt leaving his throat, signalling the beginning of his own orgasm.
“Shit, baby, I’m cumming.” His voice trembles and his hips stutter, sloppily thrusting until your feel warmth spreading inside your throbbing cunt, his hot release painting your walls white. He grinds into your ass, dragging both your highs until he lets out a whimper of overstimulation and you intentionally clench a couple of times, wanting to torture him for a little longer considering what he put your body through tonight. Not that you’re complaining, but the pathetic whine that escapes his throat, along with his hands grabbing your hips in urgency, is the best reward you could ask for now.
You accidentally let out a breathy chuckle that becomes louder when he lightly slaps your ass in warning. “Don’t be a brat.”
You mewl when he slowly pulls out and manhandles you onto your back. He leans down, seeking for your lips and he sighs when you meet him halfway, slotting your mouth with his on instinct as his body moulds with yours, his hand slipping his softening length back into your dripping hole with no warning, earning a yelp from you.
“Mmh, Jen-”
“Relax.” He mumbles into the kiss. “Just feels warm.” He whispers, and you can detect a tone of shyness. You can’t help but smile fondly at the side of him you’ve rarely seen.
“You’re weird.” You tease, still kissing him slowly.
“You’re annoying.” He retorts, leaving quick little kisses on your lips, moving onto your cheeks, then your nose, then returning to your lips with a chaste smooch that deems you helpless. Giggles and butterflies erupting.
“But you like me.” You sing playfully, dragging the sentence, hands squishing his cheeks to annoy him even more. He stares down at you for a moment, biting his bottom lip to contain a smile you can see anyway.
“But I like you.” He admits, blinking slowly and you can’t help but return the smile before leaning up to give him another sweet kiss.
Lee Jeno likes you and you like him too.
Who would have thought? Definitely not you.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
When you return from the bathroom, covered in the t-shirt he had on earlier, he is already under the covers, lying on his front. You’d be surprised if he wasn’t exhausted after all that. His bare back looks kissable and the back of his hair a mess and you can’t stop smiling giddily.
A ding averts your attention. It’s your phone, coming from your jeans lying on the floor messily. You pick up the piece of clothing as well as the rest of your scattered clothes, placing them somewhat neatly on his desk chair before retreating your phone from your back pocket and setting it on silent mode.
“Could you get mine too?” His groggy voice breaks through the silence as you scroll through any missed notifications.
“Sure.” You reach inside the pocket of his jeans and as you’re about to toss him the phone, he speaks again.
“Just turn my alarm off.” He mumbles in the pillow he’s got his face squished in. So cute.
You snort. “Why do you have an alarm set for Sunday?”
“I was gonna go gym, but wanna snooze with you. Is that alright?” He fires back, sarcastic even when he’s sleepy.
“I guess that’s alright.” You feign an exasperated sigh. “What’s your passcode?”
“Six-nine-six-nine.” He mutters indifferently and you snort again at the silly combination of numbers he’s chosen. Of course it’s sex related.
“Meaningful.”
“Just do it and come back to bed.” He huffs impatiently, which makes you giggle.
The delighted sound is cut short the second his phone unlocks. Two incriminating messages from that Yuna girl, and a few more from Haechan. You feel like you’re invading, but they’re right there for your eyes to read. And you instantly regret the whole night.
Yuna: where were u tonight
Yuna: thought we were meeting 🙁
Haechan: yuna is looking for you
Haechan: on the verge of telling her you’re busy clapping cheeks with stats girl
Haechan: she’s pissing me off
Haechan: just cut if off if you’re into y/n
Haechan: don’t be an idiot
You instantly like Haechan a little more and Jeno a little less. Did he really bring you to a party he was planning on meeting a side piece at?
What the actual fuck.
“Get back here.” Jeno grumbles sleepily from the bed, and you’re stuck between throwing the phone at his head and smashing it on the floor.
You do neither. You choose to stay calm for now. You’re too tired to cause a scene or have an argument.
“Coming.” You utter quietly, turning off his alarm before walking back to the bed.
You get under the covers without another word. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, not knowing what to really think. You turn the bedside lamp off, mainly because you want to hide your watering eyes and he instantly shuffles closer, his arm wrapping around you, pulling your back flush against his chest, his body curling into yours comfortably.
The kiss he leaves on your shoulder makes you close your eyes, refusing to shed tears right now. Grow up Y/N.
He lets out a sigh, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck.
“Night, baby.” He whispers softly, sounding already halfway to dreamland.
You knew this was too good to be true. But what are you supposed to do now?
“Night, Jen.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno’s fist hurts from the loud banging on the door of your apartment.
Last night he went to sleep happy and content. Ecstatic at the thought of waking up next to you, spending the morning in bed with you. But when he woke up all alone and confused, all those positive feelings went down the drain. He feels enraged. Humiliated. But most of all, he feels something he hasn’t felt in a really long time. Something that until now, he hasn’t allowed himself to feel.
Hurt.
His chest physically hurt when he realised you weren’t in the bathroom or anywhere else in his place. He felt sick when he saw your clothes were not on his chair anymore and your shoes gone from his doorstep.
But then, when he checked his phone for any missed calls or texts from you, he realised what was going on. And he felt angry. Mostly with himself but also with you, because you chose to not trust him. Again. Because you chose to leave in silence. Because you chose to drop him instead of talking to him.
So, he’s here, banging on your door like a lunatic, running after you like he always is. Because he wants to fix this. Because he can’t let you go. He refuses to.
Because Jeno doesn’t just like you. He’s crazy about you. He wants you like he’s never wanted anybody else in his entire existence.
Because he’s a fool. A fool who’s undeniably in love with the girl he was just supposed to tutor and help pass a stupid stats class.
When the door opens, Mark appears.
“Where is she?” Jeno asks abruptly and Mark’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Um, hi?”
“Yeah. Hi. Where is she?” He repeats, not in the mood for small talk.
“I’m under strict instructions to not let you in.” Mark admits in a low tone. He looks scared.
Jeno walks close to the boy, putting on a fake smile and Mark’s eyes go wide as he takes a step back in fear.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair?” Jeno speaks slowly in a sweet tone, hand raising to squeeze Mark’s shoulder in warning.
“No sir.”
“Good. Tell me where she is.”
“But I-”
“Mark.” Tone devoid of any emotion now. Cold as ice. Mark gulps loudly. “I will genuinely beat the living shit out of you.”
“She’s in the shower.” Mark steps aside obediently, giving Jeno space to enter the apartment. “You can wait in her room.”
Jeno smiles and gently pats Mark on the cheek. “Good boy.”
As he walks down the hall towards your room, Jeno hears Giselle scolding poor Mark, who just whines quietly. Something along the lines of ‘you try then’ and a defeated sigh.
Jeno feels bad for speaking to Mark like that, but he had to do what he had to do. He’ll apologise later. All he really cares about now is you.
He takes a seat at the foot of your made bed and his mind drifts to that night he found you lying in his bed. All sad and alone. He remembers how upset you were about your ex and hates to think that he’s now just another guy who’s hurt you. Because that’s the last thing Jeno wants to do. All he wants is to be with you.
He knows he’s not easy to trust and he knows you have trust issues. You’ve never talked about it, but you don’t have to; he can tell. And he doesn’t care. He’ll do whatever it takes to gain your trust, but he needs you to want him to try. He needs you to listen to what he has to say.
“Was me leaving without a word not enough of a statement?” Your irritated voice interrupts his messy thoughts and Jeno shoots up to his feet.
Here you are, shutting your door closed and leaning against it. Your hair is wet from the shower you’ve clearly just had and you’re dressed in a baggy t-shirt and cute pyjama bottoms with sushi rolls on them. Under normal circumstances his first thought would have been damn, she’s cute but right now all he can see are your red glossy eyes. You’ve been crying. Because of him.
“Why can’t you ever just talk to me when something’s wrong?” His question comes out more accusatory than he intends and he already hates himself for not being able to keep calm.
“What’s the point?” You say weakly, chin quivering, lips pursing as you look at anywhere but him, blinking your tears away and Jeno can’t stand seeing you like this. He just wants to hug you. Keep you safe in his chest.
“Y/N.” He says sternly, walking closer to you and before you can escape, he’s got your face in his hands, thumb wiping away the single tear that’s escaped. “Baby, look at me.”
“Jen, just-”
“Hey, no. Look at me.” He cups your cheeks, even as you attempt to turn away from him. You give in with a defeated sigh. “Those texts you saw. They mean nothing. I swear-”
“I can fucking read.” You interrupt him, voice not so weak now. “She thought you were meeting her.”
“I agreed to that ages ago. I didn’t even remember, I fucking swear! It was before we-” He sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself. “Look. I meant what I said last night. Yes, it was during sex but I really did fucking mean it.”
You blink once.
“You’re my girl.” He steps closer, the sweet smell of your shampoo taking over his senses for a second, but he focuses again. “You’re the only one. I want you. Just you. I’m so- I promise you- I haven’t been with anyone else since that first time. I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.”
“Why?” You whisper, eyes wide.
“Because. You’re you. And you’re perfect for me. And I can barely think when you’re around. And I’m literally about to have a heart attack right now.” He grabs your hand and places it on his chest, and he knows you can feel his insane heartbeat when your breath hitches. “You’re so fucking annoying. And I’m crazy about you.”
There. He said it.
You sniffle and before he can say anything else, your arms wrap around his waist, face burying in his heaving chest.
“You have to believe me.” He’s close to begging now, breathing unstable, but he holds you close anyway, arms circling around your shoulders, nose nuzzling in your wet hair.
“I believe you.” You whisper in his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”
“Don’t apologise.” He cuts you off. “I’m the one who fucked up. I should’ve-”
“It’s fine.” You butt in, and he smiles at how you’re both just communicating in unfinished sentences without failing to understand one another.
“So, what now?” He tries tentatively, unsure of how to approach anything at this point. He just wants things between you to be okay.
“I’m tired.” You mumble weakly, and he feels guilt wash over him. You probably didn’t get much sleep last night, while he cluelessly dozed off so quickly.
“Wanna take a nap?” He suggests as his fingers thread through your hair, trying to help you relax.
“Will you stay?” You look up at him with soft eyes, still wet from crying and there goes his aching heart again.
“Of course, baby.” His palms tenderly cradle your face again and he melts when you stand on your tippy toes. He quickly gives into you, head dipping down slightly to give you the kiss you’re silently asking for.
It’s soft and sweet. You taste like you and toothpaste, and he has to pull away before the innocent kiss escalates into something else. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”
Once you’re both under your cosy blanket, he lets you rest your head on his chest, arm around your shoulders, one hand stroking your hair, the other tangled with yours, holding them close to his chest, over his now steady heartbeat. Your breathing gradually slows down and when he’s sure you’re asleep, he takes his phone out of his pocket, quickly unlocking it and opening his chat with Yuna. He sends the text without even thinking it over and sighs as he sets his phone down on your bedside table.
He smiles as he inhales your familiar scent, his eyes closing in contentment as he keeps repeating the words he just typed out, in his head. Particularly the second sentence.
Can’t see you anymore. I have a girlfriend.
And yeah, he's yet to ask you properly, but at the end of the day, you’re his girl. And it can’t get any deeper than that.
summary: in the midst of jeno trying to help you pass a statistics class, you become friends, and eventually, that friendship turns into something neither of you can define. you say he fucks around too much. he says you're not his type. and as far as you're both concerned, it's not that deep anyway.
pairing: fuckboy student!jeno x f!reader.
genre: university!au, fluff, crack, angst, friends(ish) to lovers, smut! mdni! woop woop
word count: ~25k
warnings: oh boy… jeno and oc are both warnings in this, emotional constipation, a lil toxicity but it's all love, jealousy, they fuck obvs, kissing, spitting, fingering, dry humping, oral (fem receiving), he eats it from the back, multiple orgasms, overstim, dirty talk, praise, possessiveness, light choking, lots of teasing, nipple play, his dicc is big bc…cmon, he's a hard dom but the tables do turn a couple times, rough sex, he alters her brain chem, sweet sex also, multiple positions, jen goes through it in one scene(you'll see), angst!!!!, same page!hae makes a few appearances (yes, that's a warning), alcohol consumption, there's a lot more tbh but im so tired rn
a/n: happy gooning!!! that’s it. that’s the tea. also pls send me love im a desperate whore. i'll get a girl boner for each note/ask. ALSO!!! im now officially an unemployed international postgrad student so pls support me on ko-fi (if you can), it would mean the world to little old me👉🏼👈🏼 i genuinely hope you love this fic. i almost went mental writing it - pls excuse any typos. thank u love u bai :’)
masterlist | ko-fi
Jeno isn’t supposed to be upstairs.
Jaemin’s party has already tipped into chaos — music too loud, bodies packed too close, laughter spilling into corners it doesn’t belong — and Jeno feels detached from all of it. He’s tried to lean into it, tried to drink past the restless feeling sitting heavy in his chest, but it hasn’t worked.
Someone mentions his room being occupied offhandedly, like it’s a joke. Jeno barely reacts at first. People drift in and out of rooms at parties all the time. It shouldn’t matter.
Still, his feet carry him upstairs.
The hallway is quieter, the noise dulling with every step, and when he stops in front of his bedroom door, something feels… off. There’s no grim moans bleeding through the walls. No laughter. Just a silence that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the house.
He hesitates, fingers curling around the handle before he pushes the door open, and his eyes land on you: lying back on the bed with your legs dangling over the edge, one arm resting across your stomach, hair falling loosely around your face. Even from the doorway, you look… different.
“Y/N?” His voice comes out tentative, cautious.
His suspicions of you being asleep disappear when your head quickly raises. Your wide eyes show surprise.
“Jen? Hi.” You sit up quickly, as though you’ve been caught red handed. “Is this your room?”
“Yeah.” He nods, taking in the perplexed expression on your face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His words come out rushed as he shuts the door behind him, giving you both privacy and all of a sudden, he feels like he’s intruding, even though you’re in his room.
“Yeah, sorry, just needed some privacy.” You shake your head. “I can go.” You rush to get up and he instantly feels guilt wash over him.
“No, no. You’re fine.” He cuts you off, his hand waving defensively and you settle back on his bed with a sigh. “Did something happen?” He asks carefully, somewhat worried now. He’s never seen you like this before. Not that he sees you much outside your tutoring sessions, but the times he does, you’re all chirpy and playful, always cracking jokes. He doesn’t know you well but it’s evident that you’re not your usual self.
“Um, not really.” You scoff, an exasperated laugh leaving you. “It’s silly, don’t worry about it.” Your eyes stay on your hands as you play with your rings and he realises he’s never noticed them before. Pretty, he thinks.
He moves to sit on the carpeted floor, leaning his head on the foot of the bed, next to where your legs are dangling off the edge. He’s now decided that this situation is a lot more interesting than the chaotic party Jaemin decided to throw downstairs. Half his friends are drunk off their faces, the other half busy getting there, while Haechan and his girlfriend have already disappeared to god knows where. And you? You seem somewhat sober and definitely in need of some company.
“What’s up, Y/N? You’re clearly upset.” He presses, not happy with your vague answer. Jeno is a nosy guy and he knows that about himself, but in this case, he’s also worried and for some reason, he can’t seem to be able to let this go.
“I’m not upset.” You defend, making clear that he’s touched a nerve. “I’m pissed off.” Oh? He can’t help but crane his neck sideways to look up at you. Your eyes meet for a split second and it’s clear as daylight now, you really are pissed off. But there’s something else behind your eyes, he can’t quite decipher. Embarrassment maybe?
“Shit.” He turns to look in front of him again, legs crossing to make himself comfortable. “Who’s the culprit?”
“Classic shitty ex with his shitty new girlfriend, you know the drill.” You explain, sounding like you hate yourself for even talking about this. Jeno gets it.
“Ah. I assume they’re here showing off their happiness?”
“You assume correct.” You confirm and Jeno can’t see you, but he imagines you nodding your head.
“Want me to beat the shit out of him?”
Your snort tells him that he’s succeeding at making you feel a tiny bit better and he can’t hold his smile back.
“You wouldn’t hurt a fly Lee Jeno.” He feels the mattress dipping behind him and when he looks back up he can’t see your face anymore. You’re lying down again.
“Hey, I work out.” He elbows your calf playfully, earning another tiny laugh from you.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I see you checking me out when I talk stats.” He jokes, expecting a snarky response.
“I’m just a heterosexual female, Jeno. I see muscles, I stare.” So, you do check him out?
“I mean, I was joking, but stare away if it makes you happy.” It’s your turn to make him laugh, kicking him in the ribs lightly. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and Jeno ignores the buzzing coming from his back pocket, probably Jaemin or Jisung looking for him. He’d rather be here right now though. Not because he enjoys your company, he just feels a sense of calmness he doesn’t want to ruin. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
“Feeling any better?” He breaks the silence a few moments later and for some reason, Jeno feels comfortable enough to lean his head against your leg, eyes closing to stop the room from spinning. He realises he must be slightly more intoxicated than he thought he was now that he’s sitting down and he smiles when you don’t retract, his temple resting on your soft calf.
“A little.” You nudge his head with your leg. “Thanks.” You say softly. “And sorry for spoiling your night.”
“You didn’t.” He reassures you quickly. If anything, you made it interesting, but he doesn’t admit that out loud.
“How come you’re up here?” You ask, as though you’ve had an epiphany and Jeno lets out a short laugh through his nose, eyes remaining closed.
“In my room?” He teases and he’s aware that he’s deflecting, but he hopes you don’t catch him.
“Ha-ha funny. You know what I mean.” It was worth a try, but there’s no deceiving you it seems.
“Just not in the right mood for a party.” He confesses, sounding almost defeated. And he feels it.
“Tired?” Jeno can tell you’re sat up now, you voice coming from directly above.
“Yeah, it appears trying to force knowledge in that pretty little head of yours takes it out of me.” His joke lands well, getting a laugh out of you but then you startle him with a flick of your fingers on the back of his head. “Oi!” He leans forward, hand cupping the spot you just attacked.
“Insult me again. I dare you.” Your provocative tone intrigues him in a way, even though the pain on his scalp.
“Damn woman.” He complains, the heel of his hand rubbing his head now. “Do that to your shitty ex and you’ve got yourself a gorgeous homerun.” He jokes and almost flinches when you lightly ruffle his hair in a comforting manner. Soft and tender. A complete opposite to your usual demeanour.
“Care to answer my question now?” You return to your previous subject, not letting it slide and he’s almost annoyed that you’re so observant.
He leans back again, resting his head on the mattress and he’s met with your face. From this upside-down angle, he notices the necklace that dangles off your neck as you lean forward to get a better look at him. It’s dainty, like your rings, and it sits prettily between your collarbones.
“Just felt a bit lonely, I guess.” He admits and he feels exposed. It’s been sitting with him all night. He hadn’t meant to say it, but now that he has, it feels strangely relieving. He can’t quite put his finger on the reason, but he thinks it has something to do with the way you look at him. No judgment in your eyes, just understanding. Could also be the fact that you’re upside down.
“As in, there’s no one to talk to or no girl to stick your dick in?” Your question takes him aback and if he weren’t looking at you, he might have thought you’re mocking him. Your perfectly serious expression tells him otherwise.
Jeno shrugs. “Both?” God, he sounds sad.
“There’s plenty of pretty girls downstairs, no?” You shuffle to the edge of the bed now, sliding down to join him on the floor, mirroring his way of sitting. Though your eyes are on the ceiling, his are stuck on your side profile, your neck and that stupid necklace. Have you always been this captivating or is he just drunk and horny? He’s always thought of you as a girl who happens to be a friend. Not his usual type. Or maybe that’s his way of coping with the fact that you’re actually too good for him.
“None I’d wanna stick my dick in.” The words leave his mouth before he can contemplate them and your eyes close as you breathe out a chuckle. “Plus, my room was already occupied anyway.” He teases, smiling at the way your kiss your teeth, feigning annoyance.
“My apologies, Mr. top shagger. I was experiencing a misery crisis.” You retort, lazily turning your head to stare at him. His laugh dies out a second after, but his smile lingers as his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before trailing back up to yours. There’s mischief written all over your face and for the first time in what feels like forever, Jeno feels flustered. It’s like you’ve got him all figured out and he knows that if you were to read his thoughts right now, you would most likely condemn him to eternal hell.
“What?” He asks, deflection getting the best of him again.
“Nothing.” You shake your head, diverting your gaze to your hands again. “You’re the one staring.” There’s a subtle tint of pink on your cheeks and now it’s Jeno’s turn to smirk. You’re shy. Because of him.
“That’s new.” His observation comes out in a hushed tone. Not intentional.
“What is?” Your eyebrows furrow in question and your eyes find his again.
“You’re blushing.” He points his chin at your face and to his surprise you don’t shy away. Instead, you maintain eye contact, one eyebrow raising daringly as you try not to smile, tongue poking into your cheek.
“And you’re flirting.” The slight tilt of your head gets his heart going a little faster. “That’s also new.” Your smirk returns and your eyes narrow, studying him.
“Is it though?” Whatever has taken over him, Jeno can’t explain it, but you’re reciprocating and he has no intention of stopping until you do. What are the odds of this going to shit anyway?
“When have you ever flirted with me?” A genuine question, nonetheless, not a valid one. Jeno’s flirted with you in the past. Subtly. But he has. Aways harmless. No ulterior motives. Until now.
“You know I have. You’ve just never flirted back.” He explains casually. It's the truth and your cheeky grin accompanied by your silence validates his argument. You might be terrible at stats, but you’re not oblivious. “Do you not want me to flirt with you?” He tests.
“I never said that.” You shrug, your nonchalance doing something to him he can’t quite describe. He feels it in his spine though, and it’s unnerving and hot at the same time.
“So, you want me to?” He doubles down, enjoying whatever turn the conversation has taken. Your hesitation intrigues him, gaze drifting down to his lips for a split second before returning to his eyes. Jeno knows the signs.
“Never said that either.”
“Oh, fuck off.” His hand has no business grabbing the back of your neck and your lips have no business being this soft against his, yet both of those things are happening before Jeno can process his actions and he can’t stop the low grunt that rumbles in his chest. You kiss him back like you expected it, like you were prepared for it and that eggs him on even more.
You shuffle closer, your hands finding home on the sides of his neck, holding him close, making his head spin as he struggles to stay sane. The low moan you let out against his lips allows him to lick into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours, gliding, flicking, tasting you eagerly. He really shouldn’t be doing this - fuck stats, fuck tutoring - but the thought doesn’t even register. Not when you look so good on his floor and taste even better on his tongue. He only knows that you’re here, close, and he wants more.
He tugs on your hair, blunt nails scratching lightly at your scalp and you obediently allow your head to loll back, giving him space to attack your neck with wet kisses, your perfume invading his senses, clouding his mind as he sucks on your pulse. He smirks when you whine, the sweet sound reaching his already half hard dick. He lets his other hand travel down your body and when he reaches the inside of your thigh, he squeezes the flesh, waiting for you to protest, to stop him or indicate in any kind of way that you don’t want him to keep going. Instead, you spread your bent legs expectantly.
No words are exchanged apart from a low ‘fuck’ he lets out when you hurriedly dip your hands under your short skirt, tugging at your panties and the second they’re on the floor, Jeno wastes no time. His fingers find your folds instantly, rubbing from your entrance to your clit and he grunts at the wet glide, so fucking wet, he thinks as he circles your bundle of nerves slowly at first, then more determined, wanting desperately to get you off. It’s like he’s possessed. He can’t think straight, the only thought dancing around his mind is seeing you fall apart on his floor.
You bring his lips to yours again, hands pulling at his hair as your tongue invades his mouth and your hips grind against his hand. He’s in a slightly uncomfortable position, butt still on the floor, body twisted at the waist as you’re splayed on his carpet, head resting on the edge of his mattress. Not that it matters anyway.
“Make me cum.” You moan in his mouth; demanding and breathy and he swallows it with a filthy kiss, moaning when he dips a finger in your needy hole. You’re so wet, making his mind go blank and he feels like he could give you anything you asked for at this point. He pulls out, trying two fingers this time, knowing you can take the stretch with how drenched you are.
“Pull your skirt up.” He instructs softly, lips dragging against yours.
You do exactly as he asks, revealing the unholy sight of his fingers slowly fucking into you. Your clit is engorged due to the arousal and he can’t shake the thought of his lips wrapping around it, sucking as hard as he pleases, flicking until you’re shaking. He settles for splitting you open with his fingers for now.
He curls the digits slightly, pressing them upwards as he starts drilling into you at a rough and quick pace. The quelching noises sound almost melodic to him. That’s what good pussy sounds like, he thinks and he relishes in the loud mewl you let out, knowing he’s hitting the right spot.
“There?” He breathes out against your temple, desperately needing to unbutton his jeans, the constricting feeling torturing him, but your nod keeps him going.
“Yeah.” You pant, your eyes on his hand, taking in the erotic image as your nails dig into his thigh through his godforsaken jeans, and he wishes he could feel your touch properly, without any barriers.
He makes sure the heel of his palm stimulates your clit each time he fucks into you and he praises the universe when your walls flutter around his fingers.
“Oh my- fuck!” You cry out as you head tips, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping in a silent moan and Jeno feels lightheaded at the newfound, sinful image of you climaxing. Your cunt clamps down on his hand, making it impossible for him to keep thrusting, so he buries his fingers all the way in your pulsating heat and starts harshly rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your thighs start quiverig, eventually closing and trapping his hand between them, preventing him from continuing.
Your expression resembles an angelic one as you take deep breaths, trying to resurface back to sanity. “Jesus.” You whisper, almost like a prayer and he lets out a short breathless laugh, nails scratching the back of your scalp to help you calm down as your body still trembles.
“You good?” He bends down a little, stealing a kiss off your shoulder. The reason unknown to him, but he doesn’t question it either.
“Mhm.” You nod lazily, turning your head to look at him and your fucked out eyes remind him of the big problem in his jeans. “I think we should fuck.” You blurt out unexpectedly and he feels his eyebrows raise in surprise. He thinks exactly the same, he just didn’t expect you to spell it out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But then again, you’ve always been the blunt type. A woman who knows what she wants. He’ll bite.
“Do you, now?” He purposely feigns surprise as he drags his fingers out of your now relaxed walls and doesn’t even warn you before hooking his arms underneath you; one around your middle, the other one under your bent knees. Your small yelp makes him smile and your arms coming to wrap around his neck in urgency tug at his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel dizzy.
He carries you for a few seconds as he walks around his bed, dropping you so your head lands on his pillows. You bounce a couple of times before sitting up, resting your weight on your palms.
“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” He asks, trying to maintain a serious tone but removing his t-shirt anyway.
“Just a tad.” You say absentmindedly, eyes shamelessly trailing down his naked torso, landing on his hands as they work his belt undone. Jeno is aware of his above average size, but your eyes slightly widening when he shoves both his jeans and boxers down, definitely do wonders to his ego.
He kneels on the bed, shuffling until he’s situated between your already parted legs. He taps on your chin with his index to get your attention. “You’re drooling. Arms up.” He bites his lip trying to conceal a smile as you sit up properly, extending your arms above your head. “Cute.” He mumbles before dipping down to take hold of the hem of your top, dragging it up and off you, revealing your pretty tits. The lack of bra causes his brain to short circuit for a second before discarding the top somewhere behind him and he doesn’t waste time, moving to unzip your skirt. He smirks at the way you adorably raise your bum to help him remove the last piece of clothing.
“How do you want it?” He asks, trying to sound unaffected, all the while aching to touch you all over, heart threatening to jump out of his chest. You bite your bottom lip in thought, contemplating your options.
“Can I be on top first?” You ask tentatively, neck craning so you can look up at him. You’re so pretty like this. Splayed on his sheets with nothing on but that necklace he can’t seem to get enough of. Jeno nods in understanding, gathering that you’re most likely worried he won’t fit in any other position and he’s more than happy to let you take him however you please.
He plops down next to you on the mattress, still sat up and you quickly follow, dragging your knees on his sheets so you can straddle him. His hands move instinctively, taking hold of your hips, pulling you closer as you slightly hesitate and the second your knees trap his hips between them and your arms wrap loosely around his neck, he allows his own to slither around your middle. Your tits brush against his chest and he has to hold back a groan at the soft sensation.
His eyes find that necklace again and this time he can’t refrain from voicing his thoughts. “That looks good on you.” His chin points at the piece of jewellery and you look down momentarily before realising what he’s referring to.
“Thanks. I like yours.” You pull at his plain silver chain with your fingers, bringing his face closer to yours. Your blush is back, making him feel giddy. What’s wrong with him? He can’t even blame it on the alcohol; he feels mostly sober now.
He trails a hand up your side, palming your breast momentarily before his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, palm coming to rest on the side of your neck, thumb tracing your jawline delicately.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask hesitantly, your lips almost touching.
“You can do anything you want.” He utters quietly and he sighs when you close the tiny gap, your lips moulding against his. You kiss him deep and slow - slower than he’s used to - lightly nipping at his bottom lip, a satisfied hum escaping his chest when your hands tip his head back a little, yours angling to the side so you can deepen the kiss. Your tongue obscenely glides against his, your taste invading his senses and the wet smacks of your lips turn him on even more. His cock twitches between your bodies and he moans when you push him by the shoulders, letting himself land on the pillows, dragging you with him.
“Fuck, how are you so hot?” You whine as you trail kisses down the side of his neck and he huffs out a laugh, the compliment reaching his ears as he feels them getting warmer.
“Have you seen yourself?” He breathes out weakly as you suck on a spot that has him reeling, his hand tangling in your hair to hold you there, giving you permission to mark him.
“Shut up.” You murmur against the sensitive spot, your tongue soothing the scratch of your teeth.
“Fuck you.” He retorts childishly, hands grabbing your ass, squeezing greedily, pushing you downwards as he grinds his hips up, length slipping between your puffy folds, your arousal coating him perfectly. “You’re so wet.” He moans against your shoulder as you keep sucking greedily, and Jeno is positive the spot on his neck will feel sore tomorrow.
You sit up abruptly, eyes finding his, looking enticing as ever, pupils blown out, lips wet and swollen. You shock him when you lewdly dribble in your palm before reaching down to engulf his painfully hard cock in the very same hand.
“Jesus.” He pants as you lather him in your spit and slick, the glide of your hand sensational. You shuffle slightly upwards, aligning him with your entrance and he helps you maintain your balance with his hands on your waist.
“Ah, fuck.” You whine when his tip breaches your snug hole and he feels like he’s losing his mind. There’s no way a pussy can be this wet and feel this good. Your contorted expression tells him you might not be enjoying this as much as he is though, which brings him back to reality.
“You okay?” He drops his hands to your ass cheeks, spreading them as far apart as they can go, hoping the action offers your pussy some relief.
“It stings a bit.” The cute scrunch of your nose makes his heart race, and he has to refrain from fully thrusting into your pulsating heat. “Keep your hands there.” You plead and he does, holding you open as you try to sink down a little further with a whimper of discomfort.
“Come here, kiss me for bit.” His words must affect you, the tightening of your walls suffocating him, but you follow through, arms wrapping securely around his neck as your lips find his again. He kisses you slow, matching your rhythm from before, tongues gliding languidly, still wet and messy, but mostly intimate. Too intimate. And he knows it’s working when your walls start relaxing around him, your cunt producing another gush of slick that drips down to his base.
He takes matters into his own hands, hips raising to thrust into you little by little in quick, short pumps and when your mouth drops open against his, he moans, finding pleasure in pleasuring you.
“Better?” He whispers, searching for any signs of discomfort as your eyebrows crease adorably.
“Uh-huh.” You nod quickly, nose bumping against his as you kiss him again, all tongue and teeth, and Jeno doesn’t stop fucking you. Even when he’s fully sheathed in, he keeps going, quickly but gently pumping into your slippery warmth, length barely pulling out before sliding back in. “Fuck, you’re s-so deep.” You whine dreamily and he loves that you’re not moving, hips still, trusting him, taking what he’s giving you from underneath as his hands stay on your ass, holding your cheeks apart just like you asked him to.
When you sit up a little, palms resting on his chest as you start meeting his thrusts, you let out a loud moan and Jeno assumes his cock is hitting exactly where it should be hitting. Your tits are bouncing beautifully, nipples hard from arousal and he wishes he had his mouth all over them, but doesn’t risk changing the angle of his hips, fucking you how you need him to. He doesn’t need your words, just your closed eyes, slack jaw and trembling breaths are enough for him to know you’re lost in pleasure.
“Jen- f-fuck me harder.” Music to his ears.
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Mhm yeah, right there, just harder.” You nod quickly, eyes pleading and how could he ever deny you anything.
“Fuck, baby.” He barely registers the pet name leaving his lips, but he knows it does something to you, pussy gripping him a little tighter than before and when his hips start smacking against yours, ass jiggling in his hands, you both moan loudly.
“Oh, fuck, y-yes, like that.” You cry out, back arching, head tipping backwards in ecstasy and Jeno can’t find it in him to stop staring at you. There’s sweat dripping between your bouncing breasts, and all he can think is how much he wants to lap it up, how much he wants to lather your nipples in his spit and feel the weight of your pretty tits in his palms.
“Rub your clit for me.” He requests in a frenzy, desperate to see you fall apart again. Your ring-clad fingers quickly find the swollen nub, drawing frantic circles around it and Jeno feels his balls tightening at the sight, cock throbbing as he nears his end. Your eyes find his for a split second before they roll back as you visibly start shaking, your hand quickly leaving your clit with a shriek as though the stimulation feels painful. “That’s it.”
He doubles down even through the kneading of your walls around him, thrusts becoming more brutal, balls slapping against your ass. He becomes desperate with the way your nails dig into his chest, his grip on your ass tightening, causing the flesh to ripple. He selfishly hopes his fingers leave bruises, reminding you tonight for days.
He swears the obscene slapping sounds that echo, along with your loud cries of desperation, surpass the best quality porn he’s ever watched. If he could only have a recording of the incoherent blabbering leaving your mouth now, he’d happily ditch all the porn sites and just listen to that whenever he’d want to bust a nut.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You cry out in panic, desperately trying to raise your hips, unable to handle what he’s giving you, but that just urges him to drive into you even harder, refusing to hold back now that he’s got your body spasming hard on his cock. “J-Jen- I c-can't, f-fu-”
He wraps a secure arm around your middle, quickly manoeuvring you on your back and before you can protest, he’s slipping right back inside your warmth, his lips silencing your cries. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he supports his weight on one arm, hooking your leg over his elbow, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. His hips resume their abuse, cock driving into your spent hole repeatedly as he seeks his own release. Your pussy is still quivering around him, forcing a guttural groan out of his chest.
“So fucking good.” He mumbles in utter bliss, your walls squeezing him just right and he accepts defeat, knowing that he can’t last much longer. “Can I cum inside?” He asks for permission, half conscious of the fact that he’s not wearing a condom. He feels helpless.
“Yeah.” Your hands squeeze his biceps in reassurance. “Fill me up, Jen.” You whisper and he swears it’s the most erotic thing a girl has ever said to him during sex. And he’s fucked many girls. None have uttered his name like you do though.
“Shit.” He’s panting uncontrollably, his sweat dripping on your skin, mixing with yours as your hands come to cradle his face in comfort, and he gets this strange feeling in his chest. You’re too tender. Too soft. And then you’re leaning up slightly, kissing him but it’s almost as if he’s forgotten how to use his lips, mouth hanging open against yours, releasing a deep grunt as his orgasm takes over him. His arm starts trembling, struggling to hold him up, blunt nails sinking into the flesh of your thigh as his hips stutter, pumping messily into your wet heat, hot spurts of his release painting your gummy walls, claiming you in the best way possible. He wonders if he’s entered heaven or some unknown dimension, convinced that the way your cunt is milking him is out of this world.
When his thrusts come to a halt, length burying inside you as he releases your leg, he hears the whimper you let out, feels it against his lips and that reminds him to kiss you again. And again. And again. Until you both can’t breathe. Until his lips feel sore. Until you’re desperately pulling at his hair. Until he’s had enough of you. If that’s even possible.
He slips out with a sharp inhale, making you mewl and you’re both looking down, taking in the sight of his now softening cock, all covered in both of your releases. He sits up a little, shamelessly staring at your pulsating hole while forcing your legs wide open. Some of his cum escapes, slowly dripping down to your ass and Jeno feels lightheaded at the sight of your pretty cunt; all puffy and swollen because of him.
“Stop staring you creep.” You complain, playfully kicking him in the ribs as his hold on your inner thighs loosens.
He observes you for a moment; taking in how beautifully ruined you look. Your chest flushed, sweat all over your skin, nipples still slightly erect, tits jiggling a tiny bit from your intense breathing. The blush creeps up to your neck and reaches your cheeks, lips so red and shiny one could think you have a dark shade of lip gloss on. He feels a wave of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that it’s all him; that it’s his spit covering your lips, that your skin is covered in the afterglow of the orgasms he just fucked out of you.
“Going shy on me again?” He teases with a raise of his eyebrows, hand playfully squeezing the flesh of your thigh, before he shuffles upwards, lying next to you on his front, arm lazily draping over your middle as he tries to regulate his breathing.
“What if I closely stared at your dick like I was examining it?” You joke, absentmindedly scratching up and down his arm. He allows his eyes to shut, the relaxing motions of your fingers causing drowsiness to take over him as he shuffles closer to you, seeking more of your warmth.
“Go ahead, I got a pretty good dick.” He mumbles sleepily against your upper arm. You whack him lightly but that still startles him in his woozy state.
“Can you bring me something to clean up with?” You cringe as you rub your thighs together in discomfort and he shoots up from the bed quickly, feeling bad for neglecting you. He so easily sunk into the comfort of your warmth and that scares him a little. This is just sex, right? Nothing too deep. Just sex between two people who were having a shitty night and decided to make it better. Just incredible, mind-blowing sex with the girl he tutors twice a week for extra credit. Right?
The act of aftercare is normally something he indulges in to subtly get rid of the other person. Never intimate, just transactional. In this case, kicking you out hasn’t even crossed his mind. He realises that he wouldn’t mind if you spent the entire night or at least just stayed a little longer. But surely that’s owed to the fact that he knows you in a way. You’re not just a random girl he met and decided to fuck and chuck. You’re friends. Right?
“Shit, yeah, one sec.” He slips out of bed and rushes to his ensuite bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks wrecked; sweat glistening on his skin, lips swollen, the hickey on his neck visible already, dick still shiny with slick and cum. He splashes some cold water on his face and neck, allowing the cooling feeling to wake him up before cleaning himself up.
When he re-enters the room, you’re on your side in foetal position, very clearly asleep and he can’t help the quiet chuckle that leaves him. He carefully rolls you onto your back again and you hum contentedly as he slowly drags the warm damp towel between your legs, cleaning your folds and inner thighs as gently as possible. He feels guilty when he shakes you lightly, waking you up, but he knows you’ll thank him tomorrow.
“You gotta pee first, then we can sleep.” He whispers, careful not to pull you out of your slumber completely.
“I um- I can go home,” You mumble, still half-asleep, clearly dreading the effort. Silly.
“How about just the bathroom, hm?” He scoops you up bridal style again, exactly like he did before, only now you’re completely naked and your head buries in his neck, nuzzling sleepily. “I’ll drive you home tomorrow.” He reassures you and smiles when he feels your arms tighten around his neck.
“You’re actually a sweet guy, aren’t you, Jen?” You mumble dazedly against his skin and he carefully sets you down on the toilet seat.
“Always the tone of surprise.” He teases as he combs your hair out of your face and behind your ears. “Do your thing. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He heads back into his room, picking up your clothes off the floor, folding them neatly on his chair before rifling through his drawers for a comfy t-shirt for you to wear. He hears the faint trickle from the bathroom and can’t help but laugh quietly. A small routine, small domesticity — nothing like him, yet it feels… right. He grabs his phone, sending Renjun three quick texts, hoping his friend is not too drunk to respond.
Jeno: can you bring me a glass of water pls
Jeno: in my room
Jeno: knock.
RJ: on it
RJ: you ok?
Jeno: yeh all good
“I’m done.” Your voice floats from the bathroom, followed by a flush as he puts a clean pair of boxers on before rushing to come get you.
“Hey, lazy bum.” He enters to find you perched exactly where he left you, elbows on your knees. “Did you wipe, or do you want me to do that for you too?” He teases and you whine sleepily, face buried in your hands.
“I did. I promise.”
“Good. Now arms up.” You comply without a question, and he carefully slips the t-shirt on you, warmth spreading in his chest when you sigh at the comfort of cotton, hugging your arms to yourself. You blink up at him, looking soft as ever as you make grabby hands, and his insides almost melt at the cuteness.
Why does he feel this sudden urge to coddle you? Sure, Jeno likes looking after his friends, making sure they’re happy and healthy, but this is different. In all his sexual encounters, he’s always maintained boundaries — never lent clothes, never ensured a girl didn’t get a UTI, never carried them around.
With you, he finds that he’s already broken most of those boundaries in one single night. And he doesn’t know why.
He carries you back to the bed, only this time you cling onto him like a koala bear, arms and legs wrapped around him in a tight hug. He puts you down gently, tucks you in with the duvet, smoothing it over you, making sure you’re comfortable. A knock on the door makes you blink in question.
“It’s just my housemate.” He reassures before getting up to crack the door open.
“Here you go, sir.” Renjun presents him with a pint of water and Jeno gratefully accepts it with a smile.
“Thanks.” He goes to shut the door again, but Renjun quickly stops him.
“Dude, what’s going on?” A worrisome expression on his face.
“Nothing. I’m just- I'm not alone.” Jeno points his thumb behind him, without really allowing Renjun to look inside his room.
“Oh.” Renjun almost looks surprised, an inquisitive look taking over his face which makes Jeno feel scrutinised. His friends know him well enough to know that he doesn’t just hide girls in his room.
“I’ll explain tomorrow.” He assures his friend, silently implying that he can’t elaborate right now. Thankfully Renjun catches on quick and turns to leave after giving him a thumbs up. Jeno doesn’t fail to give him a fond smile for respecting his privacy. It’s one of the things he loves the most about that boy; he doesn’t hover, unless he’s needed.
Jeno takes a couple of gulps before placing the glass of water on the nightstand next to you. Your eyes are closed again and when he quietly joins you under the covers, he feels you shift next to him. He checks if your eyes are still closed and when he confirms they are, he turns off the bedside lamp, allowing the darkness to engulf both of you.
He’s lying on his back; arm folded under his head as he contemplates the choices he’s made tonight. Your stable breathing calms him in a way, and he finds himself trying to match your rhythm. When your hand brushes against his arm, fingers curling around just above his elbow, he freezes slightly, savouring the small contact.
“Jen?” You whisper, as if checking he’s still there with you.
“Hm?”
“I don’t want things to be weird.” Fuck.
“They won’t be.” He turns toward you, voice soft, though the darkness obscures your features.
“How do you know that?” You’re still whispering and he doesn’t know why, since you’re the only two people in the room. He matches your tone anyway.
“I mean...” His words falter briefly as your grip tightens. “Things don’t have to be weird, right?” Your fingers loosen, but they remain there and Jeno has trouble breathing. It’s not that deep, he thinks to himself.
“Right.” You’re not convinced; he can tell. And neither is he.
“You’re overthinking.” No shit, Sherlock.
Your sigh lands on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He senses you closer than he expected. “And you’re not?”
It’s his turn to let out a sigh this time.
“Right.” Your tone cools, as though distancing yourself slightly. Your hand remains, a tether.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N.” He sounds defeated and he wishes he could give you the reassurance you’re looking for. He can’t though. Not without lying.
“Do you want me to leave?” Your question takes him aback.
“What? No, that’s not what I’m saying, Y/N.” He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation.
“Stop saying my name like that.” Your voice not a whisper anymore and that does something to his head.
“Like what?” He provokes, tone harsher than intended.
“Like I’m a problem you can’t be bothered to deal with.” Your words pull him under, and he pauses to recollect his thoughts. He doesn’t want to argue, but it seems you do and Jeno is confused. Did he just imagine the last hour?
He rolls on his side to face you, and you let your hand fall from his arm. He feels the absence. “Can we please talk about this tomorrow? With clear heads?”
You shuffle closer and his heart thuds a little faster, your knee bumping into his accidentally. “Okay.” You whisper after you’ve settled into a more comfortable position, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, Jeno senses a hesitancy in your movements.
“You can move closer.” He smiles fondly and relief floods him when your arm wraps around his waist. He draws you in, fingers stroking the nape of your neck, tucking your head under his chin. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said.”
“Shh.” You scold, earning a tiny laugh from him.
“You’re funny.” He whispers into your hair, nails softly scratching your scalp, making you shudder.
“You’re not.” You retort, half-mumbled, and he snorts. His distress has somewhat dissolved, however the tension and confusion linger and Jeno prays that a goodnight’s sleep will fix whatever it is that broke between you and him tonight.
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Jeno gets woken up by an involuntary twitch of his own body and when he slowly cracks his eyes open, he’s reminded that he once again forgot to roll his blinds down, allowing the morning sunlight to invade his room.
He attempts to get into a more comfortable position, the fruity scent you carry drifts over him, and he relaxes — you’re still here, safe and real, reminding him that last night wasn’t just a fraction of his imagination.
You’re clinging onto him; cheek squished against his chest and he’s pretty sure you’re drooling on him. He feels a laugh bubbling in his chest, but he holds it in, not wanting to wake you yet.
The position you’re both in is slightly different to the one Jeno remembers falling asleep in. You’re using him as your pillow, your leg comfortably draped over his crotch, arm hugging his middle as though he’s your favourite teddy bear and he’s convinced that you must own one with the way you cling onto him like it’s a habit.
He raises his sprawled arm to wrap it around you and the second his hand finds your lower back, he assumes the shirt he put on you last night must have ridden up. His fingers splay just above your ass and he’s instantly reminded of your naked bottom half. He vividly remembers picking up your underwear off the floor last night, along with the rest of your clothes.
The thought of your nakedness brings him back to last night. Back to what you two did and how good you looked on top of him. And under him. And on his floor. His mind drifts from your smooth skin to the way you kissed him, to the way you took everything he gave you like you were made for it, like you craved it. He knows he shouldn’t. Especially when you’re soundly asleep in his arms, but Jeno has to suppress a groan at the thought of your warm and wet p-
Your sleepy hum pulls him back to reality and he mentally presses pause on the daydreaming session, but your bent knee nudging against his half hard dick doesn’t make things easy for him. Stupid morning wood, he thinks, as if his dirty mind didn’t just cause this.
He keeps his eyes shut, trying to think of dead puppies or his gran and it seems to be working, until your body moves, your face nuzzling in his neck, knee dragging over his crotch. The long sigh you let out against his skin, causes goosebumps to raise and he mentally curses.
Redirecting his focus to your comfort, he allows his knuckles to trace gentle circles along your spine, and he smiles when you shudder slightly, the little tremble of your body sparking a sense of delight within him.
“You awake?” You mumble in his neck, the tiny movement of your lips barely even there, but still enough to tickle him.
“Just about.” His voice comes out raspy, vocal cords still half asleep, causing him to clear his throat. He subtly wiggles his hips a little further down the mattress to escape the pressure of your knee and when you move with him, clinging onto him with a whine, he can’t help but use his free hand to steady you, forcing your leg further up his torso to ease the pressure.
“Sorry.” You whisper into his skin. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“No.” He reassuringly squeezes your thigh, thumb gingerly caressing the surface. “You?”
“No. Surprisingly.” If his eyes were open, Jeno would have rolled them in annoyance.
“Yeah, cause you’re always so uncomfortable around me.” His tone full of sarcasm, but he can’t help it. If you’re going to give him attitude, you’re going to get it back. Especially this early in the day when he’s slightly hungover and has not had his morning coffee.
“Grow up. You know what I mean.” Your humourless words contrast the way your fingers softly trace the line of his collarbone, a quiet familiarity in the gesture.
“You thought it would be awkward?”
“Didn’t you?” Your head moves, nose rubbing against his jaw, and he knows you’re looking at him. He adamantly keeps his eyes closed.
“What, just cause we fucked?” The light slap he receives on his chest makes him chuckle. He’s always enjoyed getting under your skin, but for some reason, now that you’re half naked in his bed, it’s even more rewarding. “It would have been awkward only if the sex was bad.”
You keep quiet and Jeno gives into the urge to turn his head and look at you, blinking his eyes a few times, adjusting to the sunlight. He raises his eyebrows expectantly as he dips his hand under your loose shirt, fingertips light as air, traveling up and down your spine slowly.
“Is this you indirectly asking if I liked it or not?” Your eyebrows raise in response, mirroring his expression.
“No, I already know you liked it. Just wanna know if it altered your brain chemistry.” He smirks at the way you roll your eyes, and if he didn’t know you to a certain extent, Jeno would really think you’re annoyed, but he recognises your usual façade.
“Mind-blowing sex isn’t the answer to everything Lee Jeno.” Your hand engulfs his jaw, fingers squishing his cheeks and shaking his face from side to side gently. “I’m one of the very few female friends you have and you’ve already stuck your penis in me. Raw.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you very blatantly ask me to fuck you?” His pointed look gets a surrendering smile out of you, hand now settling on the side of his neck. He’s not even fazed by your proximity; noses almost touching, bodies flush against each other like you’ve done this a million times.
“You stuck you tongue down my throat and then fingered me like nobody’s business. I’m only human.” Your bluntness makes him grin.
“So, what’s the problem? We both wanted it, no?” He rolls to face you fully, leg fitting naturally between yours, touch grounding yet intimate. He tries his hardest to keep his attention on you, but the whimper you let out shows him you’re just as affected, and his hand has somehow fallen on your ass.
“Why did you want it?” The question catches him off guard; your inquisitive eyes making his heart stutter.
“I was horny. And lonely. And you looked good. I mean...You always look good, I just-” He takes a breath to compose himself. Since when does he have trouble expressing himself in front of a woman?
“Relax, it’s not a test, I’m just genuinely curious.” Your chuckle and your fingers lightly pushing his fringe out of the way help him compose his chaotic brain just a little.
“I dunno. I just wanted you.” He settles for honesty and if that comes to bite him in the ass later, then so be it. “That too shallow for you?”
“No.” Your eyes travel around his face as you’re in deep thought and Jeno feels impatience creeping up on him.
“But?” He challenges, knowing it can’t be that simple.
“But, I don’t know if I can be normal around you now.” You purse your lips as you brush his bottom one with your thumb and he stops breathing for a second, his heart rate increasing significantly. “I don’t really do casual sex.”
He likes your honesty.
“When have you ever been normal around me, Y/N?” His light-hearted comment earns him a bashful smile from you, your thumb now tracing his cheekbone as he playfully gropes the part where your thigh connects to your ass. “Look, I’m not expecting anything. If you’re uncomfortable, we can go back to normal. You get your tutoring. I get my extra credit.”
“And you’d be happy with that?” Good question.
“I’m a big boy. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you want.” He offers a way out, but part of him hopes you don’t take it.
“What if I don’t know what I want?” Your eyes close, a long sigh escaping through your nose. He wants nothing more than to make it easier for you.
He smiles, conflicted.
“Then… I dunno. I guess we figure it out.” He says it casual, like it’s nothing — but his stomach twists anyway.
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The drive back to yours is quiet. Not uncomfortable, but definitely unusual. Neither you nor Jeno are usually this quiet around each other but now your thoughts are too loud and so are your doubts.
You barely register the car coming to a stop, having completely spaced out. It’s Jeno’s voice that brings you back to reality.
“Is here fine?”
“Hm? Yeah. Here’s great. Thanks for the lift.” His eyes are already on you when you look over at him, expectant and unsure. The corner of his mouth lifts subtly, a small smile forming as a response to your gratitude.
“I’ll see you Tuesday?” The tapping of his fingers against the wheel sounds louder that it should.
“Yeah. Tuesday.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.” You repeat dumbly, not sure how to approach your next words.
“Are y-”
“This shouldn’t happen again.” You blurt out and the tapping stops, his eyebrows raising slightly, but other than that, he remains calm.
“Alright.” He nods understandingly. “It won’t.” The warmth and playfulness his voice held until this morning, long gone.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He shrugs, his fake nonchalance sitting heavy in your stomach.
“I dunno. I feel like-”
“Y/N.” His hand finds your shoulder, hold grounding. “We’re good. Honest.” He turns in his seat, facing you better. “People have sex all the time. It’s not that deep.” He squeezes your shoulder once, barely there but you still feel it as his neutral smile does very little to convince you. Simply because it doesn’t reach his eyes. You hate this unfamiliar side of him.
“It’s fine if you don’t wanna tutor me anymore.”
“I do.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, touch reassuring.
“You sure?”
“I am. As long as you are.” Another subtle squeeze, now on your upper arm, his hand having slid down. “Plus...I really need the extra credit.” His playfulness is back, and you can’t hold back the sheepish smile that takes over your face.
“Okay then.” You exhale, somewhat relieved.
“Okay then.” He repeats, light-heartedly, the warm smile now reaching his eyes as his warm hand slides further down your arm before he completely retracts. The gesture should soothe you, but it somehow unsettles you.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Next time you see him is indeed Tuesday. Your regular first session of the week. And it’s all fine. It’s all normal. It’s all good.
Until it isn’t.
Until you see a text pop up on his screen. Yuna.
We still on for tonight? It reads and you quickly avert your eyes back on the histogram displayed on your laptop screen. Something about a survey, a sample and frequencies. It’s all a mess now. Who the fuck is Yuna? And why is she texting him? What about tonight?
You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t. But then he’s quickly typing a response you can’t see and he places his phone face down. Like it never happened.
“What’d you get?” He interrupts your ridiculous thoughts as he leans over your shoulder to take a look at the scribbles on your notepad. “Correct formula. Wrong result.”
“What? Why?” You’re more annoyed than you should be. His raised eyebrows betray his shock at your abrupt tone.
“You’re asking me why you can’t count?” His smirk is worth slapping off. “Check your total number of observations again.” He taps his pen on the letter n and when you count again, you realise it’s 6 instead of 5. Great. You really can’t count.
“That’s just a silly mistake.”
“Which will cost you a whole lot of marks.” He does this thing where he twirls the pen between his index and middle finger, and it shouldn’t be that attractive. “You see, it’s not a matter of logic with you. You just need to concentrate.” He’s enjoying this too much. His smile audible.
“I am concentrated.” You state stubbornly.
“Concentrate better.”
“Fuck off.”
His lack of response causes you to look at him. His neutral eyes and pursed lips tell you he’s not going to entertain whatever argument you’re trying to start and that agitates you even more. So does his stupid cologne. And the fact that he’s so close still. His forearm is now resting on your notepad and all you can think of is how prettily it flexed when it was between your thighs.
“Sorry.” You sigh, slumping back into your chair, looking around the quiet café. You need air and all you keep getting is his scent. It’s not fair.
“Am I allowed to ask?” His tone is tentative, but present.
“Ask what?”
“What’s bothering you.” He starts going over what you’ve written on your notepad with his pen, overlining letters and numbers, following every curve. You glance at his profile for a moment and you’re thankful he’s now focused on the page in front of you.
“Nothing is bothering me.” You cross your arms over your chest defensively.
“Lie better.” The corner of his lips twitches as he keeps outlining, still not looking at you. Smug bastard.
“Is it me?” He side-eyes you for a split second, gaze meeting yours before dropping back down to the mistaken 5 you wrote down earlier. It’s like an insult.
“That’s awfully egotistical of you.” You challenge, making him struggle to hold back his smile. “What makes you think that?”
He shrugs. “Just a hunch.”
You lean over, elbow on the table, chin resting on your palm, closer now. “Not everything is about you, Jeno.” You say as calmly as possible.
His pen comes to a halt. Eyes catching yours without backing down now.
“As if you don’t think about me 24/7.” It’s a joke, but it’s not.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” You shouldn’t give into it. Into his flirting. But he makes it almost impossible to behave.
“Is it bad if I do?”
“Not bad. You’re just wrong.”
“Like your calculations.”
“What?”
“Solve it again. No calculator. Not like it helped you the first time anyway.” He leans back in his chair with an unbothered expression, pen dropping dismissively on your notepad as he resembles your stance, arms crossing over his buff chest. “Go on, I don’t have all day.” He points his chin to the page smugly. Did he just...play you?
“Prick.”
“Mhm.”
Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? If so, then you’re astronomically fucked.
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Two weeks go by. Four tutoring sessions with Jeno — all pure torture. But somehow, focusing on the calculations and formulas actually pays off. You don’t ask as many questions anymore, you get the correct results most of the time, and you even score 76% on the mock test Jeno printed out for you.
A glimmer of surprise flashes across his face when he finishes grading, but it quickly softens into something pleased. Proud, almost.
“Nice one,” he says, head bobbing in approval. “Let’s get to 80 next time.”
You like that look on him. Like that he’s proud of you. You wish you could see it more often.
But the wish evaporates the second you lay eyes on him tonight. Regret floods you for giving in to Mark’s pleas to come to this stupid party. As if the man needs a wingman — he always does fine on his own. And so does Jeno, by the looks of it. But you already knew that. So why does your chest tighten when you see a girl standing between his spread legs, his casual perch on the kitchen counter, plastic cup in one hand, the other tucked in his hoodie pocket?
He’s not touching her, but her hands are on his thighs, and even from behind her head, you see his face clearly. Smirking, dark eyes checking her out as he sips his drink. There’s no trace of innocence in the way he’s looking at her. It’s the same way he looked at you that night in his room.
You know you’re out of bounds. Yet jealousy gnaws at you, and you hate yourself for it. It shouldn’t affect you. You rejected him — or whatever that was. He should be the one pining, not you. But he’s fine, and here you are, still haunted by how warm and safe his body felt that morning.
It’s unfair.
Unfair in every way: the way he doesn’t spare you a glance, the way his eyes are fixed on her, the way he chuckles at whatever she says, the way he looks so good even while flirting with someone else.
Hood up, fringe falling messily over his eyes. He looks soft but dangerous at the same time. Effortless. Sleeves pushed up, baggy cargos that only he can pull off. He’s hotter than ever — and she’s touching him. Not you. He’s looking at her. Not you. Laughing with her. Not you. Not you. Not you.
“Dude, you’re staring.” Mark steps in, blocking your view of the kitchen and yanking you out of your trance. You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Maybe you’re being dramatic — but Mark won’t judge. He knows. “That bad, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up.” You mumble into your palms, relaxing slightly as Mark wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying your face in his chest and lightly swaying you from side to side.
“Awh c’mon… you’re good.” Mark shakes you playfully, helping your shoulders loosen. “It’s okay to be jealous.” He lowers his voice so only you can hear him.
“This is not helping you with the babes, I’m sorry.” You wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the comfort of your friend’s embrace — and you really shouldn’t — but you sneak a glance over his shoulder. Jeno is still there, the girl still perched between his legs, still talking. But his eyes are very clearly on you. Expression neutral, as always, never giving anything away. Yet if you were to guess, he looks conflicted — maybe a little annoyed.
Fuck this. You refuse to stare, burying your face deeper into Mark’s neck instead.
“Are you two planning on fucking tonight?” A boyish voice interrupts the moment. Pulling back, you see a boy standing next to you. You recognise him — always with Jeno or some girl you’d assume is his girlfriend. And he’s in your stupid stats class, too.
“Dude, have some decorum.” Mark protests, keeping one arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “Y/N, this is Haechan. Haechan, this is Y/N.”
“Hi, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Weird, you decide.
“Umm I don’t think I—”
“No time for that. Beer pong. Me and my girl versus you two. In or out?” Haechan cuts you off, no hesitation. As much as his energy overwhelms you, a game that involves alcohol sounds like a perfect distraction.
Mark looks over at you questioningly.
“In.”
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Easy. That’s what beating Haechan and his girlfriend was. Too easy. And you’re currently obliterating Chenle and this boy, Renjun, who you’re pretty sure is Jeno’s housemate.
You make the last shot. In. Some boys around the table cheer, some point fingers at the losing team, laughing at them.
“Let’s fucking go!” Mark grabs your shoulders from behind, shaking you and you can’t help but laugh at his dramatics.
“You just got lucky.” Haechan complains loudly.
“You can’t get lucky twice.” You point out as you rearrange the cups back to a perfect pyramid shape.
“You’re just a sore loser, dude.” Mark throws the ping pong ball at the weird boy, sticking his tongue out and Haechan looks like he’s had an epiphany.
“Maybe you should play against our champions.” He says with a glint of mischief written all over his face.
“Nah, I’m-”
“Someone get Jeno and Jaemin.” Haechan interrupts you for the second time tonight and now he’s seriously starting to annoy you.
“Someone else can take my spot.” You say nonchalantly as you place the last cup at the top of the pyramid.
“Oh, grow up.” Haechan challenges again.
“Get off my back. Respectfully.”
“Didn’t think you’d be boring. Respectfully.” He’s hinting at something you can’t quite decipher, but somehow you know Jeno has something to do with it.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You raise your voice a few decibels as you step closer to the annoying boy.
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, like his words didn’t hold some cryptic meaning.
“Care to elaborate?” You stand in front of him, arms crossing over your chest expectantly, eyebrow raising and he smirks. As though getting on your nerves is his newfound hobby. Seriously, what is this dude’s problem?
“Oh, you know, just that you’re a-”
“Yooo okay, let’s break it off.” Jeno’s voice cuts in before his friend can finish his sentence and suddenly, you’re being dragged away from the scene and the people that have gathered around without you noticing. You try to stand your ground, pulling away from the hand around your elbow and before you can approach smug Haechan again, Jeno stands in front of you.
“Walk away. Right now. Please.” His expression is unreadable, but he’s definitely not pleased. You can figure that much out.
“What’s it to you?” You challenge, suspicious of his involvement.
His eyes close for a second, jaw clenching, as though he’s collecting himself and Haechan’s voice cuts through again. “Yeah, Jen-Jen, what’s it to you?”
Jeno just steps closer to you, shielding you from his friend’s antics and before you have time to react, he’s dragging you away again. Hand tight around your wrist and you let him. Not before you look back, only to find Haechan wiggling his fingers at you in a playful wave and you can’t help but flip him off. His laugh is loud and if it weren’t for Jeno, the alcohol in your system would have prompted you to start a fight. How can someone be so irritating?
Once you’re out in the back garden, you force your arm out of Jeno’s hold.
“Chill.” His instruction makes your blood boil.
“What the fuck!” You shout loud enough to get some heads turning, interrupting their smoking sessions. Jeno just chuckles, index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’s so funny?” You’re quieter now but you make sure to keep the cold tone on.
“Are you a child?” He asks with an amused smile as he leans his weight against the wall and if you weren’t so pissed off, you’d swoon at how good he looks right now.
“He started it.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a child.” Jeno points out like it’s a fact you should be aware of. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie and you realise how chilly it actually is.
“I’m assuming he knows me as the slut who slept with his friend just to get over her ex.” You move to lean against the wall next to him and he snorts at your comment.
“You know I don’t slut shame.” He says casually, his breath visible in the cold air. “Besides, is that what that was?” He’s looking down at his shoes as he kicks some pebbles into the grass. “Rebound sex?”
“You know it wasn’t.”
“So, why do you care about what Haechan thinks?”
“Cause he’s your friend.”
“He’s also a wind up.” Jeno turns his head to look down at you. “And you let him get to you.”
“He’s fucking annoying is what he is.” You scan the garden as you rest your hands behind your back, preventing the concrete from digging into your ass.
“Yeah, he’s for the thick skinned.” He says it with fondness, and it baffles you. “His girlfriend tolerates him just fine, so he must be doing something right.”
“An unsolvable mystery.” You mumble and Jeno chuckles, though you weren’t really joking.
There’s a pause. A comfortable silence between you, which in that moment you really appreciate.
“Didn’t know you were that good at beer pong.” Jeno elbows your side playfully and you almost smile, but then you remember that the only reason you decided to play was to distract yourself from him and the girl who was feeling him up.
“Surprised you even saw that.” It’s meant to be teasing, light-hearted. It’s anything but that.
“Why’s that?” His tone is devoid of any playfulness now.
“You just looked...busy.” You refuse to look at him but you feel his stare on your side profile. You feel hot all of a sudden. Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?
“So?”
“So, nothing. Just an observation.” You try your best to stay calm, but your pulse has increased significantly and you feel like throwing up. Jeno’s scoff is difficult to ignore.
“I don’t get you, Y/N.” You’re still adamantly looking anywhere else but at him, but you can imagine his expression. He’s definitely doing that thing he does with his eyebrows when he’s confused. The one that makes him look like a puppy. And you hate yourself. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” You defend quickly.
“Right.”
“What do you want from me, Jeno?” You close your eyes in exasperation.
“No. What do you want?” He moves to stand in front of you now, giving you no option but to look at him. “You fucking rejected me. You don’t get to be jealous. So why am in the wrong here?”
God, you’re such an idiot.
“What exactly did I reject?”
“What?” Genuine confusion painted all over his face.
“What did you expect? That we’d keep fucking and live happily ever after? I’m sorry, I don’t do that shit. I can’t.” Words leave before thought; regret floods instantly. You expect him to argue back, to shout, to react, but his next words hurt you even more.
“Yeah, no, I’m not doing this.” He shakes his head in disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping.
“Not doing what?”
“I’m not gonna argue with you, when you’ve already come to your conclusions.”
“So, I’m wrong then? Did you want a relationship with me? Did you wanna take me to bruch? Buy me flowers? Introduce me to your parents?” Silence. “You said it yourself. You were horny and I happened to be there. A girl doesn’t give you what you want and you act like your heart is broken. Boo-hoo, wah-wah, grow the fuck up.”
For the first time in the four months you’ve known the boy in front of you, his face is not stoic. He looks enraged, disgusted even. “You’re a fucking joke, Y/N.”
You don’t even know what can beat that. He’s right.
He steps closer and you wish you weren’t backed up against the wall. He’s too close. “I don’t know who fucking hurt you, and I don’t give a shit quite frankly. What I do know is I’m not a punching bag and I don’t like games.”
“I’m not playing a game.”
“No?” His head tilts.
“No.” Your voice comes out weak. He’s suffocating you and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Your stomach heavy.
“You say you don’t want me. Then you flirt with me every chance you get. You get moody whenever a girl’s name pops up on my phone. You hate when my attention isn’t on you. You get jealous. You make petty comments. You can’t even look at me right now. Should I go on?”
Are you really that obvious? If you had balls, he’d have you by them.
“I might fuck around, but at least I’m honest about what I want.” His index and middle finger poke you on the chest, right in the middle and he might as well carve your heart out at this point. “You’re the game player here. Not me.” He says quietly, but the words echo loudly in your head.
You blink and there’s wetness dripping down your cheek and the only thing you can do is nod, eyes avoiding his again, the stamp on his hoodie a lot more interesting, but blurry as another tear escapes. It’s not sadness. It’s anger. You’re angry with yourself mostly, but also him. Because he confuses you. Because he makes you feel vulnerable. Because he makes your heart do things it shouldn’t. And he scares you. So much. The way he grounds you scares you. The way he always talks sense scares you. The way he understands you scares you. The way he sees you...it scares you.
“Why are you crying?” There’s no malice laced with his words, just worry. A genuine question. Whispered.
“I wanna go home.” If misery could be pictured, it would be you. You sound like a spoilt child that didn’t get their favourite toy on Christmas day.
“Okay.” He doesn’t move and neither do you. You can feel his eyes on your face and you can’t help but look into them when his thumb wipes the tears off your cheek. His palm feels warm on your cold skin, soothing your heart and you wish you could bury your whole being in it. You just hide your face in it for now.
“I don’t like you when you’re mean.” You sniffle a little, half aware that he’s stepped closer now. His familiar clean scent engulfs you and you sigh in contentment. Your hands instinctively grab onto each side of his hoodie pocket and when you look up at him, you can tell he’s trying to fight off a smile. His features are on the softer side again, puppy-like. The fairy lights reflect on his eyes, illuminating tiny little star-like specks.
“Don’t make me act mean then.” His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Your pride wants you to push him away, but for some reason you let him touch you. You also let your forehead rest on his sternum, and you let his arms wrap around your shoulders, hugging you into him, into his warmth. The embrace is very similar to the one Mark gave you earlier, but so different in so many ways. It calms you like no other hug ever could. Like no one could ever compare. And maybe no one can.
“Are you still mad?” Your question is muffled by the fabric of his jumper, cheek squished against his chest, eyes closed as you bask in the proximity.
“Mhm.” He answers a little too quickly for your liking, but his arms tighten a little more around you and you can’t fight off the tiny smile that threatens to take over your face.
“Do you still like me?” You feel him tense just then and your arms wrap around his middle in fear of him pulling away.
“I mean...” You feel his chest move as he exhales loudly, his chin rests on your head. “I don’t hate you.”
“Good.”
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It’s two days later that you decide to face the problem that is Lee Jeno. A normal late Sunday afternoon. You’ve done your shopping for the week, gone over some lecture notes, caught up on all your uni emails, procrastinated, even gone on a run to convince yourself that you didn’t just sit around all day. You send the text before you can talk yourself out of it, and when 15 minutes go by without a response, you start to regret it.
Are you busy tonight?
The screen laughs in your face each time you check your phone and see no new notification. Why did you decide to act brave tonight? Why are you so stupid? Of course he’s busy. He’s probably in bed with that Yuna girl, altering her brain chemistry like he did yours. You wonder if he cuddles all the girls he sleeps with like he cuddled you. All careful and possessive.
You’re about to change into your pyjamas when you hear it.
Ding.
Jeno: just got back from the gym
Jeno: need a shower and then i can be free
Jeno: how come?
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Do you reply now, or should you give it some time? Make him wait like he made you wait? NO. No games. He said it himself.
You: come to mine?
You: gigi and mark are out
You: we can talk
You: you want
You: *if
Your fingers are shaking so much you forgo typing a whole word and you can only hope he’s not laughing at you when you send the correction. Five long minutes go by before he replies again.
Jeno: i want
Jeno: gimme 30 mins
You snort at the text mocking your typo. Of course he won’t pass an opportunity to tease you. He definitely knows you’re shitting bricks.
You react with a thumbs up before you start pacing around your apartment, looking for things to do until he arrives.
First you wash up the few forgotten mugs in the kitchen sink. Then you reorganise the cereal boxes that Giselle and Mark always mess up.
He texts you a simple omw when you’re contemplating whether you should put on jeans or keep your joggers on. You decide on the latter. No need to try hard.
He knocks when you’ve just finished brushing your teeth for the second consecutive time, which you’re starting to regret because your gums sting now.
You take a deep breath before opening the door and when you do, he’s standing right there, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool as ever. His signature look. Attire matches yours: big hoodie and baggy joggers, emitting comfort and softness.
His eyes scan you like yours scan him. Head to toe. “Cute socks.” He nods in approval and when you look down at your feet, you realise you’re wearing fuzzy Christmas socks with little mistletoes on them. Great. “Swear Christmas was like a month ago.”
“They’re warm.” You step aside to let him in, and he quickly takes his shoes and jacket off by the door before trailing toward the living room area. You observe him as he carefully places his thick jacket on the back of the sofa. He inspects the room like he’s never been in your apartment before. It feels oddly domestic when he’s not here for a tutoring session.
You set your phone on silent and quickly notice the time. Apart from the fact that he’s five minutes early, it dawns on you that it’s dinner time.
“You hungry?” The words slip before you can stop them, and he swiftly turns around to look at you. You’re still leaning against the door as he plops down on the sofa armrest.
“I could eat.” He shrugs with a lopsided smile. He looks so boyfriend-coded like this. So warm and soft. Just lounging around your living room. “Unless you’re cooking.” His eyes are full of mischief, smile cheeky.
“I mean, I was thinking of ordering, but you can starve if you’re gonna insult me in my own home.”
He ends up placing the order. Something about a deal on his Deliveroo, but you know he just didn’t want you paying. Just like when he never lets you pay for your coffee but complains when you occasionally pay for his.
He’s munching on a dumpling when you’ve run out of things to talk about. You’ve covered the hangover you were both nursing the day before, his gym session and how he got hit on by a guy, your running session and how you got drenched by the rain, the stats chapter you’ll be entering next week, the fact that you both have a seminar tomorrow morning, the fact that you might skip. You talk about anything and everything but what you both really want to talk about.
“Did you stay long on Friday after I left?” You ask casually as you blow on your spring roll to help cool it down.
He shakes his head. “Nah. You left at the right time. It was dead after.” He drops his chopsticks on his plate and grabs a napkin for his hands.
“What about the girl you were with?” It slips. But at least it doesn’t sound malicious. Your eyes meet for half a second and you almost laugh at the side-eye he gives you.
“Still not over that?” He leans back on the sofa, getting more comfortable, legs spreading a little as he sips on his water.
“It’s just a question. Don’t deep it.” You take a sip of your own water before turning your body completely toward him, legs criss-crossing, arm resting on the back of the sofa.
He pulls his hood up as he slides a little further down the cushions, almost as though you’ve put him on the spot and he’s trying to hide. You find it amusing. “Nothing happened if that’s what you’re asking.” No glance toward you still; he’s too busy trying to stabilize the half-empty water bottle on his stomach and only when he fails for the third time does he look at you.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t really my type.”
You nod. “Didn’t realize you had one of those.” You twirl one of your rings with your thumb. You feel nervous suddenly but choose to push your sarcasm forward.
He blinks, unamused. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
“I judged you.” You say quickly, refusing to back down now. His eyebrows tense a little, emitting confusion for just a second. “And I’m sorry.” You chew on the inside of your cheek as you wait for a response.
He nods just once before averting his attention to the bottle again. “You’re not the first or the last person to do that.”
“I have trouble seeing the good in people.” You avert your eyes to the loose thread on your sleeve. It’s difficult staying afloat when he looks at you the way he always does. Like you’re easy to read.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” You detect a smile in his tone and you hate that you don’t have to see it to know it’s there. You expect him to ask why. He doesn’t; you sense his contemplative eyes on you still. A beat of silence passes and you find yourself trapped in it, struggling to utter more words. He helps with the worst possible question. “Why did you sleep with me, Y/N?”
“Don’t say it like that.” You let out a humourless laugh.
“Like what?” There’s expectancy in his voice. His restraint is slowly breaking.
“Like I lured you in or something.” You pull the loose thread harder. He lets out a short laugh. It sounds accidental.
“Just answer the question.” He taps on the plastic bottle as if to get your attention. “And look at me.” His eyebrows lift momentarily when you do, like a greeting. The situation seems awfully comical—or maybe it’s the fact that you struggle to stay serious in serious situations. He mirrors your barely-there smile regardless.
“There’s not just a single reason.” You can’t be more honest than that.
“Okay, so name three.” He holds his thumb, index, and middle finger up, wiggling them as he waits for you to start listing. “Go on.” He nods when he senses your hesitation.
You sigh dramatically as you look around the room, like the answers are hidden in the furniture. “I guess you’re attractive.”
“That doesn’t count. I want profound stuff.”
You scoff. “Since when?” You raise an eyebrow and his pointed look makes you back down, his three fingers waving slightly, demanding.
“You made me feel comfortable.”
Middle finger down.
“I was intrigued.”
Pointer down. He nods again when you pause for too long. It takes everything not to look down, but you don’t.
“Felt right.”
“And now it doesn’t?” He’s quick. No hesitation. No whys and hows. He sits up and turns to look at you properly, mirroring your position. One arm drapes over the back of the sofa while the other holds onto the water bottle still, one leg folded under him, the other hanging off the sofa. You like that he’s comfortable in your vicinity; it calms the turmoil inside you.
“It does. It’s just confusing.” You admit. His eyes look more alive now.
“What’s so confusing? People fancy each other. They fuck. They either make it a thing or they don’t.” For someone who normally reads you in no time, he seems to be struggling now.
“Jen, this isn’t stats. It’s not that simple.” You smile fondly at his confusion. “Besides, what exactly is this thing we could make it into?” You can almost see the gears spinning in his head. This, he doesn’t seem to have an answer for.
“This might sound wild, but I happen to know what dating is.” His widened eyes evoke a laugh out of you. Maybe he did have an answer after all.
“You wanna date me.” You deliver the question in deadpan tone.
He tilts his head a little. “Would that be so terrible?”
You purse your lips in thought. Would it? “Do you understand what that entails?” God, you sound so condescending. Like a middle-aged person.
“God forbid we go somewhere other than a café and talk about something other than stats.” The sarcasm in his voice makes you roll your eyes. Mostly because it makes him sound hot. You almost flinch when he shuffles closer, his knee touching yours. He drops the bottle he’s been fiddling with somewhere behind him and his fingers find yours in a heartbeat. Like he didn’t even think about it. Like it’s reflex.
“That’s not what I mean.” You know he knows, but you say it anyway. Your eyes find your hand in his, thumb stroking your knuckles gently before gliding over a ring, finding a new toy to fiddle with.
“I’ll be good to you.” You bring your gaze to his face. He looks almost shy, eyes on your hands and if the lighting were stronger, you might have been able to spot the blush on his cheeks better. You imagine it for now. “I don’t expect you to trust me from the get-go.” He chews on his bottom lip for a second. “But maybe— you know—maybe eventually...” He looks up, scanning your face for a reaction, which you try tremendously hard not to give because you just happen to love a pathetic man. He’s unsure, but he’s trying. You’ll give him that.
“Ask me properly.” You squeeze his fingers once and he has the cutest look of hope on his face.
“You’re going on a date with me.”
“I said ask—”
“I’m telling you.” He tugs on your arm playfully and you can’t help but gleam at his unusually playful antics.
“Alright.”
“Cool.”
“Now get out of my house.”
“Sorry?” Genuine surprise takes over his features; eyebrows furrowed to the maximum, eyes wide.
“You’re not staying the night.” You pat his thigh as you get up and start picking up the takeout boxes lying scattered on your coffee table.
“Why not?” He sounds almost offended. You laugh quietly as you walk into the kitchen.
“You’re just not.” He hasn’t moved from his spot on the sofa when you look back at him.
“I won’t try anything.”
Your pointed look forces the corners of his mouth to curl into a mischievous smile. “I’ll just cuddle you.”
“Next joke.”
“You really think I’m not capable of keeping it in my pants?” You don’t even bother responding to his silly question.
When you approach him again, you stand in front of him and with the way he looks up at you, it takes a lot to not just get on your knees for him.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” You admit, hinting at something he catches on quickly, his pleased smile difficult to miss.
He moves closer, warm hands engulfing the backs of your knees, his hood dropping as he cranes his neck to gaze up at you with pretty eyes. He looks almost innocent like this. So handsome. “At least give me a kiss.”
Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, looking for support as he pulls you closer, between his spread legs. This screams anything but innocent, and the way he nuzzles his face against your tummy has your breath hitching. You bury a hand in his hair, nails lightly scratching as he breathes you in.
“Just one, yeah?” Your quiet offer makes him look up again, eyes finding yours in an instant, chin resting on your lower abdomen. Who knew Lee Jeno could look so submissive and sexy at the same time.
“Just one. And I’ll fuck off before you know it.” You should tease him. Make him beg. But he looks too good for that. Too insatiable. And you can always make him beg another day.
You do exactly what you said you wouldn’t do. You get on your knees, between his spread ones, and now it’s you that has to look up at him. Your hands find his strong thighs and the thought that enters your mind isn’t a pleasant one. Envy flickers for a moment, remembering the girl from two nights ago, standing between his legs in a very similar position. But then you see how he looks at you and envy becomes want. He didn’t look at her like that, nowhere near.
His hands fall on top of yours before trailing up your arms and you drag your knees across the carpet to get closer. Your noses touch when his palms engulf each side of your neck, thumbs tracing your jawline, fingers reaching your nape, his touch making your knees feel weak as your heart beats faster, and you’re worried he can feel it through your pulse points.
“You know,” His top lip grazes your bottom one lightly and you can’t help but bite onto the spot he touched. “You’re doing a bit too much for just one kiss.”
“You either want it, or you don’t.” You match his low tone; afraid you’ll break the trance you both seem to be in, your fingers lightly squeezing his thigh muscles in encouragement.
You see his smirk and then you don’t. Your eyes drop shut the second his mouth is on yours, claiming. His palms feel warm on your cheeks, his lips soft on yours but demanding, thighs tensing under your wandering hands, and you feel dizzy as you let him tilt your head as he pleases, let his tongue in your mouth, let him taste you. It’s wet and it’s loud and it’s hot, the neurons in your brain already useless.
You really should pull away, not give in to him so easily, but one hand is in your hair now, tugging, the other around your throat, gentle but assertive, and the whimper you let out is embarrassing. Your hands clench around the fabric of his joggers; your pussy around nothing, and that’s when you abruptly push him away, hands on his firm chest. You think your ears deceive you, but you swear Lee Jeno just whined. A needy, pathetic whine. So beautiful. It makes something coil in your chest, a pulse of heat you didn’t expect, a reminder of just how much power he has over you in a single sound.
His back is against the sofa cushions now, and he looks defeated, chest visibly moving. “You’re a fucking menace.”
You laugh a little too loudly at how out of breath he sounds, as though he didn’t just have full control of that kiss. His lips are shiny, a darker shade of their usual pink, and you lick at yours, realizing they must be just as wet. You can still taste him, and your walls flutter around emptiness again. You’re tempted to look down and check whether he’s also affected, but you withhold. That would make things so much worse.
“I promised one kiss. I gave it to you.” You pat his thighs gently, and his hands catch yours again, fingers interlocking this time. It’s your heart that flutters this time.
“Alright, Dua Lipa.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno has always known you’re trouble. He’s always pitied the guy you’ll end up with—or anyone who falls for you. Not because you’re not a catch, but because he views you as someone hard to say no to. And now… he’s exactly the kind of guy he pities. He’s never thought of himself as a weak man. But here he is, walking you home after your regular Tuesday session, pretending he’s listening to your rant about some professor who hates you and struggling not to make his fascination obvious. Because he really is fascinated—by the way you move your hands, the way you furrow your eyebrows in frustration, the way you swear a little too much when you’re stressed, and the way you say “what the fuck,” because what the fuck is wrong with him?
He can’t stop thinking about how adorable you looked earlier when you drew a Venn diagram correctly, how your eyes lit up when you got his validation, how you gasped when the only thing he said was “good job.” Not because he has some weird claim on you, but because he likes how determined you are to do well. And he likes that he’s helping you. But most of all, he likes that you’re succeeding. Jeno is positive you don’t even need his help to pass the module anymore, but he can’t bring himself to tell you that just yet—simply because he likes that you want his help.
It’s been two days since that obliterating kiss, and Jeno keeps pondering. You. How you got on your knees. How you touched him. How you sounded. How easily you ruined him with just one kiss. He knows he’s already slept with you, but for some reason, that kiss beats any other moment he’s had with you. It was too good. Too much. And oh, what he would give to experience that again.
“You free this Friday?” The question slips mid-thought, and the silence that follows makes him turn his head to look at you. He struggles not to laugh at your dumbfounded expression, pursing his lips to control the smile that threatens to take over his face.
“You weren’t listening just now, were you?” You scold, though the tone of amusement is still evident.
“Nah. Not really.” He blatantly admits, getting a kick out of annoying you.
“Dickhead.” You huff in the cutest way possible.
“Friday.” He repeats stubbornly as you’re nearing your building. “Free or not?”
“What exactly am I walking into here?” You ask carefully, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“An orgy.”
“Yeah, alright, get me involved.” Your bored tone shouldn’t make him smile.
He sighs in annoyance, because there’s no way you don’t know what he’s hinting at. “I wanna take you out, you pleb.”
“Pleb?”
He groans dramatically. “Oh my god—”
“I’m actually not.”
“What?”
“I’m not free on Friday. I promised Gigi I’d do movie night.” No way. Fuck that. There’s no way he’s asking you out and you’re rejecting him.
“You serious? You’re blowing me off for some movie night?” He knows he should tone it down. He’s sounding hurt, and it’s not that deep. It shouldn’t be.
“I’m not blowing you off—”
“You so are. Royally.” He can’t help but feel a little defeated. He’s never winning with you.
“I can do Saturday.” You say with a hopeful tone, and Jeno feels some relief at the fact that you’re not entirely rejecting him.
“I said I’d go to this stupid party on Saturday.” He grumbles. He doesn’t even want to go, but you’re not willing to cancel your plans for him. So why should he?
“Right, well… we’ll have to do next week then.” The disappointment in your voice makes his heart jump and his stomach clench. Why do you keep doing that? Until now, it was his head. Now, you’re messing with his heart and stomach too? It’s unfair.
“Why don’t you come with me?” He offers, hoping it doesn’t make him seem weak. Although he knows that’s exactly what he is—a weak, needy, pathetic man. For you.
“To your stupid party?” You almost sound offended, and now he regrets even asking.
“Yeah.” He sighs as you both come to a halt outside your building. It’s dark already, and the streetlights reflect prettily on your face, accentuating your features. Your nose is a little red from the cold, and you’re in thought, teeth catching your bottom lip as you consider his invitation.
“That’s not really taking me out though, is it?” You try shyly. You never tiptoe around things. And Jeno hates that he loves that.
“I just want to spend time with you, Y/N.” He attempts to lower his guard a little but realizes how awfully intimate his words sound. Oh well. “We can show face for a bit, and then we can just fuck off if it’s boring, go somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Disneyland.” He deadpans again, trying to put on the fakest smile he can, but unintentionally, it transforms into a genuine one. He blames the cute way you roll your eyes at him. So unamused.
“Wow, you’re on a roll today. How will I ever recover from this laughter?” You sound bored, but he sees how hard you’re trying to hold back your smile.
“God, you’re annoying.” And he’s not lying. You are so fucking annoying. And so fucking pretty. He blames the streetlights. And his stupid heart.
You outright laugh at his exasperation, and Jeno finds himself in a predicament. He could ignore you, move on with the conversation, or he could shut you up. It’s an easy decision.
The cute sound of surprise you let out when his lips crash onto yours is imprinted on his brain, and so is your soft touch on his chest, and so is the way you kiss him back, matching his eagerness, and so is your taste, and so is the way your body molds into his. It all just fits perfectly. You fit perfectly.
Your nose feels cold against his cheek, but the back of your neck feels hot against his frosty fingers, and he wonders when it became such a normal thing for him to notice details like that. A kiss is a kiss. There shouldn’t be any science behind it. That’s what he always thought. Until that night you sat with him on the carpet at the foot of his bed.
A wet smooching sound echoes in the cold of the evening when he pulls away, and he can’t fight his smile seeing how you lean closer, chasing after his lips.
“Come.” He whispers, both your breaths visible.
“Huh?” You sound lost, blinking quickly as though adjusting back to reality. Did he just kiss you, stupid?
“On Saturday. Come with me.” He sounds like he’s begging now, and he hates it. That’s what it’s come to.
He trails his hands down your arms, over your thick jacket, and the bashful expression on your face makes his pulse fasten as he threads his fingers through yours.
“Okay. I’ll come.” Success.
“Good.” He leans down, leaving another chaste kiss on your lips before he can chicken out, and then, as you’re about to speak, he’s walking away.
“Dude, what th—”
“You better have that mock test ready for Thursday!” He shouts over his shoulder, and he wishes his resolve was stronger, but he can’t fight the need to look back. And the confusion on your cute face is so worth it.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno doesn’t know what to do with himself.
There you are. A few feet away from him, in this crowded space, conversing with some girls he’s never met before. So confident, carrying yourself so gracefully, your laugh audible and sweet. So sweet, so intoxicating, so heart-wrenching.
He brought you here. And for some reason, he expected you to not leave his side; to crowd him, to be needy and demand his attention. As always, he was mistaken. He should know by now, you’re not like most girls he’s associated himself with. But he’s a fool. A fool who keeps misjudging you and putting you in the same basket as everyone else.
And there you always are. Proving him wrong every single time.
“What’s with the long face?” Haechan’s voice cuts through Jeno’s trail of thought.
“No long face.” Jeno quickly dismisses the accusation. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking at a party? You must be in serious trouble.” As much of a smart-ass as his friend can be, he’s got the tendency of being right most of the time. And just like now, he’s always smug about it, the irritating smirk on his face proof.
“Fuck off.” Jeno mutters, always harmless. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to bless with your annoying-ass face?”
“And bless her I shall.” Haechan sings, making Jeno snort at his silliness. “Quit yearning and just go talk to her, you dumb-ass bitch. You look like you’ve seen a litter of dead puppies.” Haechan whispers aggressively as he walks away swiftly, before Jeno can have the pleasure of shoving him.
“Wet wipe.” Jeno curses under his breath as he watches his friend lovingly wrap his arms around his girlfriend, his face nuzzling into her neck as she smiles bright. It’s sweet and it’s disgusting, and the undeniable feeling of envy fills Jeno. He’s envious of them both. Because as disgusting as they can be, they’re happy. And they don’t fail to remind him every fucking second.
When Jeno redirects his vision to you, he’s met with your eyes, and you shatter him with the sweetest smile you’ve ever given him. And there goes his poor heart again. His lips move on their own, returning the gesture without permission, and when you extend your hand in his direction, wordlessly asking him to join you, there goes his stomach. His legs seem to work on their own, because in a few seconds, he’s pushing himself off the wall, crossing the room, and in a few more, Jeno’s got your hand in his.
“Hey.” You greet quietly, with a small squeeze around his fingers.
“Hey, yourself.” He instinctively pulls you closer into his side and you smile wider, looking down bashfully, the group you were chatting with long forgotten behind you.
“Having fun?” You seem genuinely interested, and for some reason, Jeno feels weak. Words don’t come easily in that moment, so he just shrugs, nose scrunching a little.
“You?”
“Eh, I’m too sober.” The way you wrap both arms around his has him in a chokehold, and Jeno looks around at the chaos of the party, then back down at you.
“Wanna get out of here?” He asks, relieved that your eyes light up with hope.
“Disneyland?” You tease, a tiny smirk adorning your face. Jeno chews on his bottom lip to prevent his own smile.
“Disneyland.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno’s place is relatively tidy compared to last time you were there. Some books are scattered here and there, a plant struggling to stay alive in the corner, a used-up mug on the coffee table. Though very evident that it’s a boys’ house, you can smell the laundry detergent. It’s messy but clean, and for some reason, that makes you feel a sense of warmth.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You twirl your finger in the air, gesturing at the space as you walk further inside the living room.
He snorts as he takes off his shoes, placing them next to yours. “Did you expect a crack den?”
“Sure looked like one last time.” You stand in front of the bookshelves, scanning all the titles they’ve collected. “I’m assuming these aren’t all yours.”
“And why would you assume that?” He’s standing a lot closer than you thought; you can almost feel his body heat seeping through your thick jumper.
“Dunno.” You stay put, refusing to turn around and look at him. “You don’t strike me as much of a reader.”
He lets out a short laugh, his breath hitting the back of your neck. Oh, he’s close—close.
“And what do I strike you as?” His fingers make contact with the back of your hand, lightly tracing until his index hooks around your pinky. The gesture feels a lot more intimate than it should, and even though it’s the least sexual thing anyone could do, you feel yourself getting hot.
“As someone who reads because they should, not because they want to.”
“Wow.” His whisper hits your ear as his thumb fumbles gently with the ring you’ve got on your pinky. “You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?”
“Not really, no.” Your breath hitches slightly as he wraps his other arm around your middle, pulling you flush against him. His chest feels hard against your back, and his breathing is definitely a lot more stable than yours, but his heartbeat doesn’t match his calmness. It’s oddly comforting.
He doesn’t stall when you turn around. His lips instantly find yours. No teasing, no hesitation.
He’s everywhere.
You feel him everywhere, and your heart hurts from the intensity. From how gentle he is. From how slow he kisses you compared to all the other times.
You’re worried he can feel the heat radiating off your skin when his hand cradles your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone so delicately you feel hysterical. The whimper you let out seems to encourage him as he tilts his head a little, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help but part your lips more, desperate to taste him.
Your hands slither up to his hair, threading through the short strands, and a moan escapes from your throat when he pushes you into the bookshelf, his tongue obscenely licking into your mouth, tangling with yours in a wet mess.
“You hungry?” He mutters into the kiss, clearly with no intention of pulling away, but your arms circle his neck, holding him closer—just in case he made the unacceptable choice of stopping.
“Mm-mm.” Your refusal vibrates between your mouths as you kiss him harder, his uncoordinated breathing egging you on as you walk him backward, blindly leading your tangled bodies to the sofa.
“Thirsty?” He’s smiling as he lets you guide him, his hands grabbing onto your hips, refusing to put space between your bodies.
“No.” You clumsily stumble over your feet, and his arms around you help you regain your balance, his light chuckle hitting you on the lips, breath hot against you, as he harshly lands on the sofa cushions, eagerly helping you straddle him as though being apart from you is unfathomable.
“Guessing you’re not tired either.” He barely gets to finish the sentence before a grunt leaves him; your fingers pulling harshly at his hair as you shamelessly shove your tongue in his mouth, easily shutting him up. He slumps against the sofa with a sigh against your lips, hands limply resting on your ass as he lets you take control.
“What about you? You tired?” You break the kiss with a loud, wet smack, your hand around his neck preventing him from trailing after you. You tighten your hold when he attempts to move again, and you revel in the sight of his confused expression. It's almost like a newfound pleasure, like it’s something he didn’t know he wanted until now. You can tell by the tensing of his eyebrows, the quick blinking of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw, the clawing at your ass cheeks.
He’s never been put in his place before, and it shows.
“Answer me.” You instruct seductively, lips brushing his as you grind down on the very evident erection suffocating in his jeans.
“Fuck—no. I’m not fucking tired.” He grits, nostrils flaring in annoyance, and his harsh expression earns a smirk from you as you make sure to press harder on the sides of his neck. A mean laugh tumbles out of you as his resolve breaks, eyes rolling back the second you grind down again, the fabric of your jeans rubbing against your throbbing clit deliciously, but you ignore the pleasure, focusing on how responsive Jeno’s body has suddenly become.
He could easily overpower you, take matters into his own hands, ruin you if he wanted to, and that knowledge turns you on a lot more than it should. Because he’s actively choosing to be submissive. He’s silently asking to be choked, succumbing to the power you didn’t know you held over him. Until now.
“You’re kinda pathetic, Jen.” You whisper in his ear, his moan vibrating between your chests as you leave a little kiss on his cheek. “It’s cute.”
“Fuck off.”
You’re not sure if it was meant to come out harsh, but it’s far from it. It’s whiny and breathless.
“That’s mean.” You coo at him, another soft kiss left on his cheek before a theatrical pout takes place on your lips. “You promised you’d be good to me.”
“You’re the one who’s being mean.” His head turns so he can look at you, arms wrapping tightly around you, and you can’t help but loosen your hold around his throat.
He’s blinking slowly, breathing shallowly, and you swear his hazy eyes are going to be the death of you. He looks weak and sweet and so fucked out, and if it weren’t for the next words that leave his mouth, you would have held your ground.
“I like you.” He whispers. So casual but so lethal at the same time. “A lot.”
You sit up a little, and he follows after you, arms tightening around you as he buries his face in your chest, sighing heavily, making your heart go crazy. He can definitely feel it.
“Say something.” His words are muffled against the fabric of your jumper, and you can’t tell when exactly you started stroking his hair, both hands softly threading.
“I like you too.” You murmur in his hair, inhaling the boyish but sweet smell of his shampoo, and you smile when his shoulders visibly relax.
“Stay tonight.”
You know what he’s asking, and when he looks up at you, you also know it’s game over.
You give him a little nod before leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, his surprised expression making you feel giddy. “I’ll stay.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Lee Jeno is a lot of things.
He’s stubborn and annoying and cocky at times and he’s annoyingly smart and good with numbers which makes him a good tutor. He’s nice at times too, and funny and oddly endearing. He’s also incredibly hot, and cute, even though he hates being called that.
But you’ve always known those things.
What you didn’t know is how incredibly and unfairly good he is at giving head. Out of this world good. And as much as you hate it you also can’t help but love it. What you love the most, however, is how much he seems to love it.
“Holy shit, Jen, slow down.” You pant, thighs shaking in overstimulation, your body trying to comprehend the intense orgasm it just went through, but Jeno doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck.
“Shut up and keep your legs open.” He mutters into your drenched pussy, arousal and spit coating the lower half of his face, the scene before you incriminating as you struggle to do as he says with a pathetic whine.
“I’m too sensitive, you psycho.” Your futile attempt to harshly pull at his hair, backfires as he shoves two fingers in your dripping hole, a string of spit landing on your clit, thumb replacing his tongue in harsh circles. His fingers reach deeper than yours ever have, stimulating the sensitive spot inside your walls with ease.
“Don’t want my tongue? Fine. You’re taking my fingers.” His hand is thrusting roughly, digits barely pulling out as he creates a vibration-like motion, abusing your g-spot like nobody’s business.
“Oh my god!” Your screech is embarrassing, and so is the way your trembling fingers grip his bedsheets. What really is mortifying, though, is how loud your cunt is. The lewd sounds are almost offensive to your dignity, which seems to be out the window by now. You feel too hot, sweat dripping down your temples and you wish you had the energy to take off your top, the intense pleasure clouding all your senses.
“Just accept that you’re gonna cum again.” The sweet kiss he leaves on your inner thigh highly contrasts the way he’s violently fucking into your sopping cunt and you can’t help but give into it. Because he’s right. You’re going to cum again. “There we go, baby, just take it.”
“Fuck, it’s too much, y-you're too deep.” You cry, asking for a little bit of mercy that doesn’t seem likely to come your way.
“You’re dripping though.” His hot breath fans on your centre, free hand pressing into your belly, holding you hostage. “Literally ruining my sheets.”
His humiliating words do something to you, and unfortunately, he seems to notice the way you clench around his fingers, the way your back arches a little more. “Thought you didn’t like me being mean, baby.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Your voice comes out whiny, no threat laced in it whatsoever, and his laugh is sinister, openly mocking your desperate state, pushing you over the edge unexpectedly. “Fuck, I’m cumming.”
Your body tenses, chest heaving, walls clamping down on his fingers, forbidding any further movement, but his thumb is relentless, rubbing your poor clit through your high.
“Shit, baby.” He whispers, the sound barely reaching your buzzing ears. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you reach for anything that can pull back to the surface. Your nails dig into his arm, the one draped over your stomach and he quickly laces his fingers with yours, understanding what you need. “You’re good. I’ve got you.” He trails gentle kisses up and down your thigh, the action soothing, helping you back to a more coherent state.
“I fucking hate you.” You pant. No irritation in your tone, just defeat and deliriousness.
He chuckles against your skin, fingers slowly pulling out of your heat. “No, you don’t.”
Your hands instinctively caress his hair as he starts dragging your top up your torso, a kiss left on every newly uncovered inch of skin. You help him by sitting up a little, arms raising and then hands finding his face as soon as the garment is off, pulling him in for a slow kiss he so easily gives into. You can feel his grin, and it makes you chuckle softly against his lips but neither of you pulls away.
Within seconds, your back arches, making room for his hands as they unclasp your bra and once it’s gone, you eagerly wrap your arms around his neck, craving to feel his skin on yours, sighing at the way your sensitive nipples drag against his warm chest.
It’s quiet and loud at the same time. No words are exchanged as you intimately make out with him. It’s all heavy breathing, a whimper here and there, the rustling of his sheets, the wet sound of kissing, one of your phones’ buzzing as neither of you seems to care. It’s a soft moan of yours that breaks the silence, and then one of his as he slowly grinds his jean-clad cock into your tingling pussy, the material harsh on your hypersensitive clit.
His arms cage your head, supporting his weight as he makes room between your bodies for your hands, trembling fingers clumsily unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, your hands blindly shoving the material down, both of you to stubborn to pull away from the sloppy kiss you’ve trapped yourselves in.
“Mmh- just- fuck sake.” You mumble in his mouth and he lets out a small laugh as he reluctantly pushes off you to remove the rest of his clothes hastily. You smile at his erratic movements, relishing in the fact that he’s as needy as you are.
His mouth is back on yours within seconds, body finding home between your parted legs, fitting just perfectly and you breathe harshly when his cock prods at your entrance.
“Do we need a condom?” He murmurs breathlessly, eyes meeting as his face hovers just inches above yours. You find it cute how he remembers about protection now, when he’s already finished inside you before.
“You’re clean?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no.”
He nods with a shaky exhale, and you pull his face closer, not being able to stand any space between you. One arm sneaks around his neck, the other circles his shoulder blade, holding onto him as you prepare for the intrusion, craving the stinging sensation you felt last time he entered you.
His tip bumps your clit a few times as he rubs the length of his cock between your folds, coating himself in your arousal.
“So wet, baby.” It sounds pained and you’re slowly starting to lose any restraint that’s left in you.
“Please, fuck me.” You whine into the dip of his shoulder, hips twitching, raising to find friction.
The head of his cock kisses your entrance, and the second you start to feel the delicious pressure, he slips, finding your clit once again, making you inhale sharply. You’re so wet, it’s embarrassing.
“Shit, sorry.” He utters the rushed words as he looks down, between your bodies, one arm propping him above you.
“It’s okay, just try again.” You caress the back of his neck softly as you patiently wait for a stretch that doesn’t come. He’s still, breathing heavily as he looks down, forehead dropping to your shoulder and now you’re starting to get concerned.
“You okay?” You ask in confusion, as your hands reach for his face, but he hides in your neck.
“I’m- this is fucking embarrassing.” His body is trembling and you have no choice but to wrap your arms around him, still not understanding what he’s going on about.
“Jen, what’s wrong?”
Did he change his mind or something? Did he just realise he’s not that into you? Or did he just remember he’s got chlamydia?
“I’m actually freaking out. What is hap-
“I’ve gone soft.”
Oh.
“My dick is soft.” He rephrases, voice muffled in your neck and you try your best not to laugh at his pained tone, by hiding your face in his shoulder. Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh.
It's pointless. Inevitable. A snort escapes. He tenses.
“Are you fucking laughing?”
“No.” Your arms tighten around his shoulders, trapping him, or preventing him from seeing your pursed lips.
“I actually fucking hate you.” He exasperates, lips grazing your skin, but he lets his weight slump on you regardless. And you feel it. He really is soft.
“Are you nervous?” You’re not mocking, just asking genuinely as your thumb strokes his temple, nails gently scratching his scalp, trying to offer some comfort through his embarrassment.
“Why would I be nervous?” He defends quickly, stubbornness coating his voice.
“Chill. It’s just a question.”
“I’m not nervous.” He persists. He really is incapable of lying.
“You’re overthinking then.” You start tracing patterns on his shoulder with your free hand as his breathing becomes more stable.
“What’s there to overthink? It's sex.” He sighs as your toes tickle the back of his knee, foot slowly caressing his leg.
“Erectile dysfunction?” You joke and he huffs out a breath in annoyance, tickling your neck, goosebumps raising. You hum in thought, pretending to be in search of other reasons for his little mishap. He shivers as you lazily start scratching up and down his back, your other hand still in his hair, slightly tugging.
“Maybe you’re just not that into me then.” A smirk tugs on your lips as he playfully bites down on your shoulder.
“Yeah.” He nuzzles your jaw. “That must be it.” He starts kissing along the bone, his hand cradling the other side of your face, urging you to face him and he’s miserably failing to hold his smile back, just like you are. He cutely brushes his nose against yours and your brain malfunctions for a second. Never did you think Lee Jeno would be eskimo kissing you in bed right after he got a limp dick because he got too nervous.
But here you are.
“You know,” Your hand caresses his wrist as his hand buries in your hair. “You can be really cute sometimes.” Your lips find the tip of his nose, and he slightly flinches as the tender gesture, coaxing a giggle out of you that gets interrupted by his hand roughly pulling at your hair and you know your tactic to get him riled up is working.
Your whine is muffled by his lips, tongue forcing its way into your mouth like it’s his mission to shut you up and you revel in the dominance he asserts. A big hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing a little tighter than you expect, making you feel dizzy as his tongue claims your mouth in the filthiest way possible. Drool smears on your chin and the little twitch you feel on your belly forces a satisfied moan out of you.
“This cute enough for you?” He breathes into your mouth, his hips grinding with force, hardening cock sliding between your wet folds, cunt throbbing with need.
“Whatever cutie, just try not to go soft on me again.”
A sarcastic laugh tumbles out of him. “You trying to piss me off?”
“Yes.”
“I will literally fuck you into oblivion.” He mumbles in your ear, his teeth trapping the lobe between them before he starts trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck, hand moving to fondle one of your breasts, fingers harshly squeezing, claiming, making you mewl.
“Please, do.” You beg cutely, legs wrapping around his waist, heels pushing him into you more as your hips lift momentarily as you feel a new gush of arousal dripping out of you, smearing between your bodies. You just know it’s a mess down there.
Two of his fingers find your entrance, swirling through the wetness before he abruptly shoves them in to stretch you out again and before you have time to adjust, two become three, stretching your tight hole to the max. Your moans are unrecognisable, downright pornographic and you can’t imagine how good his cock is going to feel. You’re so horny, you feel like you’re going to pass out.
“Jen- oh fuck- please just put it in.” Your hands grab his face, forcing his eyes onto yours, showing him how blinded with desperation you are. You really want him. And he seems to share the same sentiment. His dilated pupils show you that much.
He kisses you stupid again, tongue tasting you hungrily as he fucks his fingers into you deep and slow a few more times and then emptiness. He kisses you harder when you whine in protest, but it’s the fat head of his cock prodding at your hole that really shuts you up and this time he doesn’t slip out. This time you feel the sting you so impatiently were craving.
Your walls flutter around him, but they welcome his thick length greedily, sucking him as he sinks in slowly.
“Oh my god.” He utters breathlessly as his pubic bone finds yours, hips grinding to help you both get used to the stimulation, mouth dropping open against yours as you bite down on his lip, not caring if your draw blood because it all just feels divine.
“Move.” You plead, letting your legs spread wide for him, your hands burying in his hair as you bring his lips to your again, needing him closer.
“Stop clenching so hard. Feels like you’re pushing me out.” He whispers softly, following up with a slow kiss, his hand caressing your thigh as he holds himself up on one forearm by your head, thumb stroking your temple gingerly and you instantly feel yourself relax a little.
“Sorry.” You murmur into the kiss, feeling him smile against you, your stomach doing that thing it always does when he does the most insignificant things.
He finally starts moving, slow and deep, cock stimulating every nerve ending in your walls and you’re so sensitive you feel every ridge, every vein, the slight curve of his length and the way he thrusts a little upwards doing wonders to that sweet spot deep inside you.
He leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek before letting his head drop, face burying in your neck, hot breaths hitting your skin deliciously as you both lose yourselves to the consuming pleasure. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, quiet moans filling the space of his room as his pace quickens slightly, the hand on your thigh slipping between you and the mattress, softly squeezing your ass cheek, keeping you in place, grounding you like you need him to.
“Fuck, baby.” The sweet petname, whispered in your ear, makes your pussy clench around him and he lets out a muffled grunt. His fingers squeeze the flesh of your ass a little harder and his hips start snapping against yours, wet slaps echoing as he fucks you with short and hard thrusts. “You like that?”
“Yes.” You sigh into his neck, nails clawing at his shoulder blades as you take what he’s giving you, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock starts abusing your g-spot, barely pulling out before fucking back into your needy cunt. You feel incredibly close and you’re almost shocked he’s managed to bring you this close to an orgasm so quickly, just with his cock. “Fuck- I’m s-sorry- I think I’m gonna cum.”
“I can feel you.” He moans and raises his head to look at you. “It’s okay, don’t say sorry. I want you to.” His hips maintain their perfect rhythm, stimulating the gummy spot inside you as well as your swollen clit. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, not being able to handle his intense stare and another moan from him is what send you over the edge. It’s intense, mind-consuming, your legs shake as he fucks you through it like he’s made for it, messily kissing you, groaning into your mouth as you violently squeeze his cock, walls almost pushing him out, but his thrusts unfaltering.
“Jesus.” He pants as you cry out, the pleasure now bordering overstimulation, but he doesn’t slow down. His back is drenched in sweat, your fingers slipping as they try to hold onto something and he immediately pins your hands above your head as he starts fucking you harder; bruising, animalistic thrusts melting your brain into mush.
“J-Jen, I’m- oh f- I can’t-
“Shhh. You can. It’ll feel good again.” His tongue finds yours in a kiss full of teeth and spit and you can barely focus on anything, too fucked out to function properly. You’re thankful you’re at least breathing. “You’re mine. Right, baby?”
Holy fuck. What is happening?
“I am?” You mumble against his lips, your heart going ballistic.
“You’re my girl, no?” He holds your arms pinned with one hand as the other cradles your jaw, eyes finding yours.
“Yes.” You breathe out pathetically.
“Say it.” He demands with a sharp thrust, balls slapping against your ass, your arousal coating your inner thighs as he grinds into you.
“I’m your girl.” The tip of his cock brushes your abused spot again, mind-numbing pleasure building again, like it never went away.
“Fuck yeah, you are.” He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking before releasing. “Mine.”
Your breathing is laboured as his hips resume their ministrations. Fucking you hard and fast towards another high that seems to come even quicker than the previous one. It’s like he’s forcing them out of you. And you know you’re going to be ruined for any other man after this. You really are his. He owns you. But you can’t say that. You refuse to admit it. Even as he’s balls deep in you, fucking you into oblivion, exactly like he promised.
“Are you mine?” It slips out before you can register the thought. You blame his dick.
He moans. It’s strangled and deep, his eyebrows tensing as he blinks quickly, as though trying to comprehend your words. It’s cute and hot at the same time. “Fuck- you know I am.”
“Tell me.” You whisper, short-breathed, nuzzling your nose with his, your foreheads almost touching and his eyes roll back when your walls flutter around him again. What a sight.
“I’m yours, baby.” He grunts as you purposely tighten around him and you didn’t think it was possible, but he fucks you harder, the sounds obscene, your back arching as he sits up, kneeling between you spread legs, pushing them up to your chest, fucking you so deep you have to brace your hands against the headboard, a loud cry leaving your throat. “All yours. All for my girl.”
“Oh my god.” You exhale harshly, nails digging into wood as his words send you into a frenzy. “Fuuuuck I’m gonna cum.” Your tone pleading and he can’t do anything other than oblige.
“Uh-huh, cum for me, baby.” He whispers, head hanging low as he lets a good amount of saliva dribble from his mouth onto where you’re both connected, and your broken moan echoes around the walls of his room when the digit quickly finds your swollen clit, all wet and slippery from arousal and spit. He flicks the nub in quick up and down motions as he tries to keep the same angle of his hips.
A particularly soft flick of his thumb is what makes your body seize, drowning you in obliterating pleasure as your pussy squeezes tight around him again, this orgasm even more intense than the previous one, if not the most intense one you’re ever had in your whole existence.
He pulls out with a grunt, hovering over you again, a deep kiss left on your lips before he continues down to your neck, sucking and licking, marking your sweaty skin, and you whimper weakly when his tongue finds a nipple, his big hands squishing your sensitive tits and you don’t have it in you anymore to deny him anything. He can do as he pleases.
“So pretty.” He mumbles, completely lost in his own little world that seems to be occupied only by your nipples and tits as he lathers them in his spit, licking and sucking like man starved.
Before you have time to regain your breathing, you’re on your front, face buried in his pillows as his hands grab onto your hips.
“Ass up for me, baby.” He helps you get on your knees, back arched, tits squished against his mattress. “Spread your legs.” He gently taps your outer thigh and you oblige with a whimper as he starts leaving wet kisses on one of your ass cheeks, hands kneading the flesh.
“What are you doing?” You mumble, slightly panicked as he gets closer and closer to your asshole.
You attempt to look back when no answer comes, but your head drops back down in defeat as his tongue licks a fat stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. The moan that erupts from your throat is broken, surprise evident as you tangle your fingers in his sheets.
“What the fuck.” You whisper, rushed words muffled by Jeno’s pillows. Your jaw slackens as his tongue languidly circles your sopping hole, dipping lightly, tasting you shamelessly and within seconds it travels back down to your clit, flicking it from side to side with the tip of his tongue, making your legs tremble, struggling to hold you up.
You’re a mess down there, you know it. The filthy sounds filling the room, prove that much. He’s sloppy with it; making out with your pussy like he’s thirsty, tongue everywhere, even slipping up to your other tight hole a few times, coating you in his spit wherever he can reach.
“Shit.” He rasps. “I could eat this pussy for days, baby.”
“Jen-”
“So perfect.” He mumbles in awe, his lips brushing your sensitive clit before wrapping around it, sucking harshly, tongue flicking in quick motions, driving you crazy, turning you into a blabbering mess, a hand reaching behind you to tangle in his hair, pulling desperately.
“Please fuck me. Want your cum in me.” You don’t even know where that filth came from, but you can’t bring yourself to care in the slightest. You think you might lose the plot if he doesn’t stick his cock in your aching pussy right this second.
Thankfully, your begging deems rewarding. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he repositions and the sound you make when he stuffs you to the brim in one motion, resembles a scream.
“Yeah? My girl wants my cum?” His voice barely reaches your ears over your loud moans as he starts thrusting into you in no time. Hard and fast. And you feel him in your fucking throat; the position allowing him to go deeper than anyone has before. His hands grab onto your waist, fucking you silly onto his cock, his balls slapping your poor clit deliciously and you’re positive you’re drooling onto his pillow.
“Oh, my fucking god. Right there.” You plead urgently as his tip nudges your g-spot for the umpteenth time tonight, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull, arms crossing over the small of your back, silently asking him to take complete control over your spent body.
“Shit, Y/N.” He pants, one hand taking hold of your wrists, the other grabs onto your shoulder, forcing you onto his cock, the wet slaps of his hips onto your ass turning you on beyond belief. You arch your back more, craving to feel him as deep as possible and his moan tells you he’s equally as affected. “You look so good like this.”
You twist your neck, looking over your shoulder, desperately searching for his eyes. You know you look destroyed, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you want him to see, want him to know what he’s done to you, that it’s all him.
The second his gaze meets yours, you know it’s game over for both of you. He looks unreal, sweat dripping from his temples down to his neck, chest glistening and heaving, abs flexing beautifully each time he thrusts forward. You know he can feel your walls tightening. His eyes closing momentarily, jaw clenching, his hold around your wrists becoming so deliciously painful, you hope it leaves a mark.
The hand on your shoulder slips in your hair, pulling, forcing you off the mattress as he leans forward, slotting your lips with his in a sloppy kiss. It’s full of tongue, saliva and need. You love it. You love everything he’s doing to you.
“You gonna cum one more time for me, yeah?” He whispers wetly against your lips, spit smearing on both your chins and you can’t help but nod dumbly. “Good girl.”
Your face is shoved in his pillow again and next thing you know, he’s fucking the living shit out of you, hand now at the base of your nape as his hold around your wrists doesn’t loosen.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me.”
It’s the primal, raw need in his voice along with the brush against your sweet spot that has you teetering over the edge again. It’s overwhelming. Your fists clench at the small of your back, legs shaking and weren't he holding you in place, you would have collapsed on the mattress limbless.
A tear escapes from the corner of your eye from the intensity, trickling down to the pillowcase and you thank the universe when you hear a deep grunt leaving his throat, signalling the beginning of his own orgasm.
“Shit, baby, I’m cumming.” His voice trembles and his hips stutter, sloppily thrusting until your feel warmth spreading inside your throbbing cunt, his hot release painting your walls white. He grinds into your ass, dragging both your highs until he lets out a whimper of overstimulation and you intentionally clench a couple of times, wanting to torture him for a little longer considering what he put your body through tonight. Not that you’re complaining, but the pathetic whine that escapes his throat, along with his hands grabbing your hips in urgency, is the best reward you could ask for now.
You accidentally let out a breathy chuckle that becomes louder when he lightly slaps your ass in warning. “Don’t be a brat.”
You mewl when he slowly pulls out and manhandles you onto your back. He leans down, seeking for your lips and he sighs when you meet him halfway, slotting your mouth with his on instinct as his body moulds with yours, his hand slipping his softening length back into your dripping hole with no warning, earning a yelp from you.
“Mmh, Jen-”
“Relax.” He mumbles into the kiss. “Just feels warm.” He whispers, and you can detect a tone of shyness. You can’t help but smile fondly at the side of him you’ve rarely seen.
“You’re weird.” You tease, still kissing him slowly.
“You’re annoying.” He retorts, leaving quick little kisses on your lips, moving onto your cheeks, then your nose, then returning to your lips with a chaste smooch that deems you helpless. Giggles and butterflies erupting.
“But you like me.” You sing playfully, dragging the sentence, hands squishing his cheeks to annoy him even more. He stares down at you for a moment, biting his bottom lip to contain a smile you can see anyway.
“But I like you.” He admits, blinking slowly and you can’t help but return the smile before leaning up to give him another sweet kiss.
Lee Jeno likes you and you like him too.
Who would have thought? Definitely not you.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
When you return from the bathroom, covered in the t-shirt he had on earlier, he is already under the covers, lying on his front. You’d be surprised if he wasn’t exhausted after all that. His bare back looks kissable and the back of his hair a mess and you can’t stop smiling giddily.
A ding averts your attention. It’s your phone, coming from your jeans lying on the floor messily. You pick up the piece of clothing as well as the rest of your scattered clothes, placing them somewhat neatly on his desk chair before retreating your phone from your back pocket and setting it on silent mode.
“Could you get mine too?” His groggy voice breaks through the silence as you scroll through any missed notifications.
“Sure.” You reach inside the pocket of his jeans and as you’re about to toss him the phone, he speaks again.
“Just turn my alarm off.” He mumbles in the pillow he’s got his face squished in. So cute.
You snort. “Why do you have an alarm set for Sunday?”
“I was gonna go gym, but wanna snooze with you. Is that alright?” He fires back, sarcastic even when he’s sleepy.
“I guess that’s alright.” You feign an exasperated sigh. “What’s your passcode?”
“Six-nine-six-nine.” He mutters indifferently and you snort again at the silly combination of numbers he’s chosen. Of course it’s sex related.
“Meaningful.”
“Just do it and come back to bed.” He huffs impatiently, which makes you giggle.
The delighted sound is cut short the second his phone unlocks. Two incriminating messages from that Yuna girl, and a few more from Haechan. You feel like you’re invading, but they’re right there for your eyes to read. And you instantly regret the whole night.
Yuna: where were u tonight
Yuna: thought we were meeting 🙁
Haechan: yuna is looking for you
Haechan: on the verge of telling her you’re busy clapping cheeks with stats girl
Haechan: she’s pissing me off
Haechan: just cut if off if you’re into y/n
Haechan: don’t be an idiot
You instantly like Haechan a little more and Jeno a little less. Did he really bring you to a party he was planning on meeting a side piece at?
What the actual fuck.
“Get back here.” Jeno grumbles sleepily from the bed, and you’re stuck between throwing the phone at his head and smashing it on the floor.
You do neither. You choose to stay calm for now. You’re too tired to cause a scene or have an argument.
“Coming.” You utter quietly, turning off his alarm before walking back to the bed.
You get under the covers without another word. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, not knowing what to really think. You turn the bedside lamp off, mainly because you want to hide your watering eyes and he instantly shuffles closer, his arm wrapping around you, pulling your back flush against his chest, his body curling into yours comfortably.
The kiss he leaves on your shoulder makes you close your eyes, refusing to shed tears right now. Grow up Y/N.
He lets out a sigh, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck.
“Night, baby.” He whispers softly, sounding already halfway to dreamland.
You knew this was too good to be true. But what are you supposed to do now?
“Night, Jen.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno’s fist hurts from the loud banging on the door of your apartment.
Last night he went to sleep happy and content. Ecstatic at the thought of waking up next to you, spending the morning in bed with you. But when he woke up all alone and confused, all those positive feelings went down the drain. He feels enraged. Humiliated. But most of all, he feels something he hasn’t felt in a really long time. Something that until now, he hasn’t allowed himself to feel.
Hurt.
His chest physically hurt when he realised you weren’t in the bathroom or anywhere else in his place. He felt sick when he saw your clothes were not on his chair anymore and your shoes gone from his doorstep.
But then, when he checked his phone for any missed calls or texts from you, he realised what was going on. And he felt angry. Mostly with himself but also with you, because you chose to not trust him. Again. Because you chose to leave in silence. Because you chose to drop him instead of talking to him.
So, he’s here, banging on your door like a lunatic, running after you like he always is. Because he wants to fix this. Because he can’t let you go. He refuses to.
Because Jeno doesn’t just like you. He’s crazy about you. He wants you like he’s never wanted anybody else in his entire existence.
Because he’s a fool. A fool who’s undeniably in love with the girl he was just supposed to tutor and help pass a stupid stats class.
When the door opens, Mark appears.
“Where is she?” Jeno asks abruptly and Mark’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Um, hi?”
“Yeah. Hi. Where is she?” He repeats, not in the mood for small talk.
“I’m under strict instructions to not let you in.” Mark admits in a low tone. He looks scared.
Jeno walks close to the boy, putting on a fake smile and Mark’s eyes go wide as he takes a step back in fear.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair?” Jeno speaks slowly in a sweet tone, hand raising to squeeze Mark’s shoulder in warning.
“No sir.”
“Good. Tell me where she is.”
“But I-”
“Mark.” Tone devoid of any emotion now. Cold as ice. Mark gulps loudly. “I will genuinely beat the living shit out of you.”
“She’s in the shower.” Mark steps aside obediently, giving Jeno space to enter the apartment. “You can wait in her room.”
Jeno smiles and gently pats Mark on the cheek. “Good boy.”
As he walks down the hall towards your room, Jeno hears Giselle scolding poor Mark, who just whines quietly. Something along the lines of ‘you try then’ and a defeated sigh.
Jeno feels bad for speaking to Mark like that, but he had to do what he had to do. He’ll apologise later. All he really cares about now is you.
He takes a seat at the foot of your made bed and his mind drifts to that night he found you lying in his bed. All sad and alone. He remembers how upset you were about your ex and hates to think that he’s now just another guy who’s hurt you. Because that’s the last thing Jeno wants to do. All he wants is to be with you.
He knows he’s not easy to trust and he knows you have trust issues. You’ve never talked about it, but you don’t have to; he can tell. And he doesn’t care. He’ll do whatever it takes to gain your trust, but he needs you to want him to try. He needs you to listen to what he has to say.
“Was me leaving without a word not enough of a statement?” Your irritated voice interrupts his messy thoughts and Jeno shoots up to his feet.
Here you are, shutting your door closed and leaning against it. Your hair is wet from the shower you’ve clearly just had and you’re dressed in a baggy t-shirt and cute pyjama bottoms with sushi rolls on them. Under normal circumstances his first thought would have been damn, she’s cute but right now all he can see are your red glossy eyes. You’ve been crying. Because of him.
“Why can’t you ever just talk to me when something’s wrong?” His question comes out more accusatory than he intends and he already hates himself for not being able to keep calm.
“What’s the point?” You say weakly, chin quivering, lips pursing as you look at anywhere but him, blinking your tears away and Jeno can’t stand seeing you like this. He just wants to hug you. Keep you safe in his chest.
“Y/N.” He says sternly, walking closer to you and before you can escape, he’s got your face in his hands, thumb wiping away the single tear that’s escaped. “Baby, look at me.”
“Jen, just-”
“Hey, no. Look at me.” He cups your cheeks, even as you attempt to turn away from him. You give in with a defeated sigh. “Those texts you saw. They mean nothing. I swear-”
“I can fucking read.” You interrupt him, voice not so weak now. “She thought you were meeting her.”
“I agreed to that ages ago. I didn’t even remember, I fucking swear! It was before we-” He sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself. “Look. I meant what I said last night. Yes, it was during sex but I really did fucking mean it.”
You blink once.
“You’re my girl.” He steps closer, the sweet smell of your shampoo taking over his senses for a second, but he focuses again. “You’re the only one. I want you. Just you. I’m so- I promise you- I haven’t been with anyone else since that first time. I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.”
“Why?” You whisper, eyes wide.
“Because. You’re you. And you’re perfect for me. And I can barely think when you’re around. And I’m literally about to have a heart attack right now.” He grabs your hand and places it on his chest, and he knows you can feel his insane heartbeat when your breath hitches. “You’re so fucking annoying. And I’m crazy about you.”
There. He said it.
You sniffle and before he can say anything else, your arms wrap around his waist, face burying in his heaving chest.
“You have to believe me.” He’s close to begging now, breathing unstable, but he holds you close anyway, arms circling around your shoulders, nose nuzzling in your wet hair.
“I believe you.” You whisper in his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”
“Don’t apologise.” He cuts you off. “I’m the one who fucked up. I should’ve-”
“It’s fine.” You butt in, and he smiles at how you’re both just communicating in unfinished sentences without failing to understand one another.
“So, what now?” He tries tentatively, unsure of how to approach anything at this point. He just wants things between you to be okay.
“I’m tired.” You mumble weakly, and he feels guilt wash over him. You probably didn’t get much sleep last night, while he cluelessly dozed off so quickly.
“Wanna take a nap?” He suggests as his fingers thread through your hair, trying to help you relax.
“Will you stay?” You look up at him with soft eyes, still wet from crying and there goes his aching heart again.
“Of course, baby.” His palms tenderly cradle your face again and he melts when you stand on your tippy toes. He quickly gives into you, head dipping down slightly to give you the kiss you’re silently asking for.
It’s soft and sweet. You taste like you and toothpaste, and he has to pull away before the innocent kiss escalates into something else. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”
Once you’re both under your cosy blanket, he lets you rest your head on his chest, arm around your shoulders, one hand stroking your hair, the other tangled with yours, holding them close to his chest, over his now steady heartbeat. Your breathing gradually slows down and when he’s sure you’re asleep, he takes his phone out of his pocket, quickly unlocking it and opening his chat with Yuna. He sends the text without even thinking it over and sighs as he sets his phone down on your bedside table.
He smiles as he inhales your familiar scent, his eyes closing in contentment as he keeps repeating the words he just typed out, in his head. Particularly the second sentence.
Can’t see you anymore. I have a girlfriend.
And yeah, he's yet to ask you properly, but at the end of the day, you’re his girl. And it can’t get any deeper than that.
✩ jaemin x reader | fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | 10.9k
SUMMARY ⇾ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection
GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff
WARNINGS ⇾ lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole… or is he?
RATING ⇾ explicit
TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen
AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!
⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!
Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.
Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.
Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.
Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.
Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.
author's note: can be read as a standalone! but also as an instalment for like we just met !! i miss mark so much i just had to work on something so i wouldn't go insane </3 and then he updated!!!!!! and i FELT insane!! if you know me you already know that i love this man so much — meelings (mark feelings) are open, so feel free to discuss anything mark related with me <3 not proofread (yet).
It bothers you. Like a full pot ready to boil over, you’re about to lose your temper. A whole day spent rotting in bed and your boyfriend, Mark, has not spared you a glance — or a touch, for that matter.
His eyes have been glued to the book in his hands, and it really didn’t matter if he was on the toilet or in the kitchen preparing a cup of tea for the two of you. No, it didn’t matter. Mark kept his eyes glued to the pages of the despicable book that had become your enemy, and it felt like you weren’t even there.
Reading is an activity you enjoy doing in silence while still being in each other’s company. So many days and nights the two of you have spent talking about what you just finished reading, about theories, about the essays you were going to write about said books.
There’s this rule between you two — you split the semester’s reading list in half, with you and Mark deciding who gets to read whatever title is on the weekly syllabus. And because he’s a gentleman, and because he loves you, your boyfriend always lets you choose first — and maybe he reads the one you chose as well, if he has the time. If not, he’ll just stick to all the details you give him.
And that’s how your Sunday started. Standing in your boyfriend’s kitchen, and writing down some bullet points so you could remember everything you needed to explain about your book. Mark didn’t waste time talking to you during breakfast, while he ate the eggs you prepared for him — for which he asked so nicely, if maybe you could make them for him — with his eyes glued to the thick book in his hands while he chewed on his bite.
After spending yesterday’s morning out at the flea market, searching for the two books on your reading list for the upcoming week, Mark spent the rest of the day sleeping while you read the book you chose. So when he found out you had already finished it, he started panicking looking at the thickness of his, and blocked your voice out and away from him, even if you were trying to reassure him that he still had until next Friday to finish it.
But Mark has always been an overachiever, a stubborn perfectionist, so he refused to put the book down, promising you a detailed summary of the book by the end of Monday afternoon’s seminars you two shared.
A whole day spent on the couch writing, or in bed trying to take naps next to your boyfriend — whose eyes kept being glued to the book, of course.
And who cares about that stupid book, anyway? It’s not like you have to read every single piece of the syllabus every single time, you can skip one once in a while — or more frequently, like all your classmates do. But Mark is probably the only person in your course that takes it seriously, does his coursework on time, reads, writes projects that are not necessarily related to your course, all while still taking you out on dates, spending time with you, enjoying his hobbies, and going to work.
Still, with the thought of the many more days ahead, during which he can read this monstrosity of a book, you try to distract him. You want his attention, you want to take naps with him, you want to enjoy your time in his apartment, just the two of you.
“What is it, baby?” He mumbled each time, not even looking at you, and you knew he wasn’t even paying attention if you answered or not.
You played with the waistband of his pyjama shorts, you pulled at his t-shirt sleeve, you playfully bit his bicep while he put his hand under his head searching for a more comfortable position to lie down in. But it all went unnoticed.
You wanted to snatch the book and beat him with it. You wanted to make him chew the pages because he ignored you. You wanted to kiss him every time his lips moved while mumbling and then gasping outraged at something going on in that damned book. You wanted to cover his face in kisses every time he hissed at you when he finally registered your actions and ministrations on his body — arms, torso, neck.
Eventually, you gave up. You took naps, you started lining down the plot of the screenplay you had to write and submit by the end of the semester, you listened to music and you doom scrolled on tiktok while sending every other video to him so he could check them later. And all you could hear was him breathing peacefully by your side, the rustling of pages, or him mumbling in a sweet habit he doesn’t know he has — when he’s too concentrated and into his own world he starts mumbling the words he’s reading or writing down. And you wanted to kiss him desperately.
But he hits you with the usual “Baby wait just a bit longer, this’s an important part right now!” Swaying your hands away from him, sometimes allowing you to stick to him but he doesn’t register your motions, because he doesn’t reciprocate.
Mark can barely keep his hands off you — that is when he’s not too busy reading fucking Ulysses, so you knew he was too deep into that book.
You wanted to set that book on fire.
So by the time the sun started setting outside, and knowing that Mark promised you’ll order some food tonight instead of cooking or going out, you decide to peel yourself off his bed and go have a shower. Not that you think he’ll miss you — or notice you’re gone, for that matter.
So you take your sweet time, because you bet you’ll still find him lying down on his back, the way you just left him. With no excuse of tearing him away from that damned book, no excuse for dinner, or anything else really, you wonder what else you can do to get his attention on you.
You even use your shower gel, the vanilla scented one he loves so much on you, and you even discarded of your towel before exiting the bathroom.
And just how you suspected, your boyfriend hasn’t moved an inch. He just brought a leg up, and seemingly also brought the book closer to his face.
You sigh, walking towards the bed, turning on the lamp on top the impromptu bedside table he has on the outer side of his bed, noticing he’s squinting his eyes even if he’s wearing his glasses.
“Thanks baby,” he mumbles, not sparing you a look. Because, if only he spared you a look, he’d be throwing the book away and out the window.
You don’t bother answering him, knowing too well that he’s not listening. You walk towards his dresser, opening a few drawers to look for your things. But then again, why even bother? It’s not like he’s going to unglue himself from Ulysses in favour of his freshly bathed girlfriend, so why should you put anything on — beside a pair of panties? It’s not like he’d notice, anyway.
You climb the bed, setting back down to his side, and you see him reaching out a hand looking for any body part of yours. You extend your arm, and he grabs it, bringing it to his face, when he inhales the sweet scent of your skin and kisses its softness.
“Smelling good, baby,” he mumbles the compliment without looking at you, and you look at him full of hope.
“Really?” Your tone is bright, hopeful, but he doesn’t reply back, and doesn’t even notice you snatching your wrist away from his grasp.
You’ve had enough of it. You’re tired of not having his attention on you, and you know you need to do something if you even want him to unglue himself from that book and order food for you later. You’ll be damned if you allow this man to ignore you for the whole day.
So you move around on all fours, setting yourself in between his legs. The muscles on his thigh flex as he moves the leg in an unconscious motion from left to right, and your hand travels to touch his inner thigh. He hisses, smacking your hand with his thigh, not even bothering using his hand.
He grunts as a warning when he feels your fingers travelling on his lower tummy, up to his chest and then back down. “Baby,” he warns, this time grabbing your wrist to stop you from scratching him. But you know what effect your ministrations have on him, and even if he’s not realising, he’s growing harder under your gaze. “I can’t lose this part right now, give me a minute,” he mumbles absentmindedly, letting your hand go.
So you put it to better use and you graze his growing hard-on, making him hiss once again, but this time he tries swaying your hands away with his own. Too bad that his eyes are still on that page, otherwise he’d see you’re naked and enjoying his squirming.
After all the ignoring he put you through today, you can’t allow him to enjoy everything to the max like you’d normally do, so a thought crosses your mind and you smirk, not even trying to hide it away — because, again, his head is deep into that book.
“Oh, baby,” you mumble amused, playfully biting on his thigh as your hands bring the elastic band of his pyjama shorts down, exposing his erection to the cool air of his room, “I wouldn’t want you to lose that part either,”
“Dude wha- what are you doing?” He stutters once he feels your cold fingers wrapping around his cock, finally looking away from the book in front of him. He looks down at you, mouth hovering over his crotch.
“What does it look like I’m doing, baby?” You ask him, and you hear his gulping.
You kiss his tip, and he hisses, sucking air through his teeth as soon as your lips travel up and down the side of his length.
He throws away the book, moving to remove his glasses too, but you frown and straighten up.
“No,” you tsk, pointing at the book, “I said I don’t want you to lose any important parts. You spent the whole day on it, so I really don’t wanna make you lose focus right now,” your tone is sarcastic, and it gets to him easily, faster than you could have imagined, his cock twitching in your hand as a reminder that he’s very into what you’re doing to him right now. “Pick up the book, Mark,” you command him, “How about you read it out loud for me, hmm?” Your tone is sarcastic once again, but you don’t wait for his answer, your warm mouth wrapping around his tip once again.
He sucks air through his teeth, but pushes his glasses up on his nose and clears his throat. He licks his lips, trying to maintain his composure, but just as he’s ready to open his mouth to recite the next few lines to you, he feels your tongue twirling around his tip, and a moan escapes past his lips, “O!” He bucks up his hips.
You don’t fight the smirk rapidly showing on your features as you proceed to give his tip kitten licks, and you enjoy his squirming under your gaze.
He inhales sharply, as if he’s preparing himself to pull through your challenge, “The poor little fella,” His Canadian accent slips out now that he’s concentrating on something else instead of the image of your lips wrapping around him, and his cock twitches in your grasp when he hears your giggles.
He takes a peek at you, raising the book swiftly, and you notice how his prominent cheekbones are now tinted with a light shade of red.
His lips are parted, and his gaze doesn’t meet yours, too busy looking at the way your mouth wraps around him once again.
You hum, amused, while moving your lips along the sides of his shaft, “The poor little fellow…” You speak up, and it makes him snap out of his thoughts, “Go on,”
He nods almost imperceptibly, licking his lips right before he takes a big breath, eyes trying to focus on the words right in his face.
“Hi-hi-hi-his legs-” He huffs, and you notice the muscles of his thighs tensing while he tries to fight the urge to buck up his hips, hoping for more friction as your tongue still plays along his shaft, “They were yellow,” His voice is raspy, tone low while trying to seem collected, yet you know. You know what you’re doing to him, and that he’s trying his best not to show you that he’s at your mercy — like always.
You allow him to continue reading out loud, while you bring your hand to wrap around his cock, gently squeezing him before you spit on his tip, warm hand moving up and down his shaft with controlled movements.
He can’t stay still, his hips moving up to meet your strokes, he has that typical desperation that takes over him every single time you’re intimate. His caress always turns into kisses; kisses turn into playful bites and touches laced with an extreme need to be glued to your body, to your skin — he can never keep his hands away from you, and he can’t survive not having yours on himself either.
His voice is raspy, he’s holding that book with so much force that his fingertips turned white, but his hips stopped moving, getting lost in the steady rhythm of your hand.
You lower your head, finally wrapping your mouth around his tip once again, and he moans mid sentence. A smile threatens to stretch across your face, satisfied with yourself at getting reactions out of your boyfriend.
“Baby-” His moan is high-pitched, hips bucking up to get just a bit more access into your mouth, as much as you’ll allow. Luckily for him, you can’t resist pleasing him and hearing the pretty sounds he makes, so you try to relax your jaw as much as you can, tongue flat on the underside of his cock as you sink your mouth as far down as you can.
You bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue around his sensitive tip, and Mark whimpers at the feeling. Looking up at him, you see him already looking down at you, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, white teeth sinking into his bottom lip trying to keep quiet — but it’s hard. Open mouthed huffs become whimpers and pleas every time he feels his dick sliding on your tongue, tip hitting the back of your throat.
You sink down on him, flat tongue sending electric shocks across his body as you get to the base of his cock, tip of your tongue coming out to tease his base and his balls.
He starts squirming under your ministrations, his book long forgotten on his chest.
“Babe,” He huffs, trying to sound compose, “Why-” He gulps, tilting his head while moaning, “Why are you doing this to me right now?!” He can barely speak up, he’s becoming too sensitive, too loud, and you know he doesn’t need much more before he cums in your mouth.
You bring one hand up to his chest, tapping your finger on his book, and he looks at you confused.
But then his eyes sparkle even more than before, understanding what you mean. He takes the books and throws it away from the bed, and you don’t even care where it lands. You wanted to torture him a bit longer, to make him read a bit more from his stupid book while you kept going down on him with the most agonisingly slow pace — yet you can’t escape how much you want him.
The torture you’ve subjected him to, albeit it wasn’t even half of what you had planned for him, is starting to bother you as well. Your loins feel on fire, the flimsy panties you put on are totally ruined just by pleasing your boyfriend and hearing the sounds he makes, and you really need to feel him inside of you, his body weight on top of you.
“Fuck,” He curses under his breath, tilting his head behind against the pillow, “Baby, stop! I’m gonna-” You see him sucking his stomach in a few times, and you know that’s your cue to stop. You swallow around his cock, and you see him shivering underneath you, gasping your name right before you retract your mouth and lips from his tip with a pop, and his cock falls heavy on his abdomen.
You hear him moaning before you notice him bringing his right hand up, trying to touch himself and to finally get to finish, but you grab his wrists, pushing both of them against the mattress, as you hover above his figure.
“Fuck, fuck, fu-” He’s frustrated, gasping as he looks up at you, and he moves his hips, trying to rut them against you somehow, yet you don’t allow him.
You look down at him, still keeping him immobilised, pushing down on his wrists. He’s flushed, panting, his frustration knows no bounds right now. His glasses are making him incredibly hot right now, and the look in his eyes while his gaze bores into yours, makes your insides melt with anticipation. As much as you’d like to just jump on top of him and ride him, you know by the look in his eyes that he has other plans for you.
You bow your head, reaching for his lips, and he does’t even allow you to come completely down before he raises his head to meet you halfway, his lips locking with yours in a hungry kiss.
It becomes messy, his soft lips moving desperately on top of yours, and you grant him access immediately, just as hungry for him. You can’t even keep up with him, he moans into the kiss, and every time you try to break it his lips just follow yours.
“Mark,” You whimper, trying to break the kiss, and you feel him rutting your hips against your core, as you hover above his crotch. His rutting makes you moan, tilting your head back, and he doesn’t lose the opportunity to trace your jaw with his lips, travelling further down your neck, giving you open mouthed kisses along your feverish pulse line.
You finally sit on top of him, hips moving in order to get a bit of friction and to ease the immense pressure that you’ve been feeling in between your legs.
Mark finally frees himself, pushing you off him, making you land on your back, and he’s immediately on top of you. He captures your lips in a kiss, tongue playing on your bottom lip, and then his lips travel further down once again. On your jaw, on your neck, on your chest, they leave fire traces on your sensitive skin, all covered in goosebumps thinking and anticipating how he’s going to finally make you feel after a day of basically ignoring you.
You know Mark. He loves you to death, and he reminds you of this every single day. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, even if sometimes he can be the prisoner of his own mind, in his own bubble, deeply lost in his thoughts as he reads or concentrates on something specific.
He snatches his t-shirt off his back, tossing it next to you, “My turn now, baby,” He rasps, whiny tone gone, and his words almost make you shiver with anticipation at the warning and at the usage of the pet name. He kisses your abdomen, precise fingers sliding your drenched panties down your legs.
He grabs your legs, fingers pushing into the plush of your thighs, finally reaching behind your knees to push your legs up, spreading them.
You see him looking down for a moment, glasses almost foggy from all the panting you two did, but he stares at your core intently, and it only makes you whine as your core throbs around nothing. One look at his cock and you can see he’s still achingly hard, and you know it won’t take too long before he finally gives you want you want. You want to feel him inside of you, to stretch you out, make you feel full, make you feel good.
He finally bends down, hands still pushing your legs to keep them apart, and his tongue swirls a few time around your clit with steady motions.
“Mark!” You moan his name, head tilted back as you feel his tongue carefully moving along your slit, nose bumping into your clit each time, and you swear you’re so turned on that he’ll make you cum from this alone.
But Mark is greedy, he wants you in all the possible ways right now, but he knows you don’t have much time. He wants to take his sweet time with you, pamper you, finally take care of you just the way you deserve to be taken care of — but maybe later, because right now, you’re both reaching a level of desperation that’s hard to control.
He lets your legs go, instructing you to plant the soles of your feet on his sturdy shoulders, and you do as he says. He grabs you by the hips, bringing you even closer to his face. His glasses are on, although they’re already in the way — you can’t see his pretty eyes while he eats you out, and he can’t see your pretty face reacting to what he’s doing to you.
So you get up on your elbows, hand moving swiftly to snatch his glasses away from his face, and then you get his fringe out of the way, combing your fingers through his hair.
Your motions make Mark moan, and he brings his hand down, placing it under his chin, fingertips already tracing your entrance while his tongue plays with your clit.
His fingers inside of you, getting them in and out of you and bringing you the delicious friction, and then curling them, all while his tongue laps at your clip and slit, it makes your thighs shake, insides burning as you can feel your orgasm bubbling rapidly inside of you.
You grab his hand, the one resting on your hip, and you pinch his fingers, trying to get his attention on you.
“Mark…” You moan out his name, and you try bringing your thighs together in order to stop him. But your boyfriend, being the same stubborn man in all situations, refuses to let you go, keeping your legs in place. “ ’s too much,” You whine, grabbing him while trying to squirm away form his face, “Not like this… please,” You plea, and you see him teasing your clit one last time with his tongue, before he gets up.
You’re lucky he’s hard as fuck right now, almost to the point it hurts, and that he really wants to be inside of you.
He kisses his way up your body, leaving kisses on your trembling thighs, on your lower tummy, on your chest, all the way up to your jaw and mouth. Mark loves worshiping you, there’s nothing he’d want more than taking his sweet time with you right now. But it gets to a point, and excitement creeps up his spine as he lines himself at your entrance with ease.
You can feel you’re a mess, still turnt on to the point your core is already throbbing desperately, waiting for Mark to slide inside of you with ease.
And when he does, you both let out an airy gasp at the feeling. He’s stretching you so deliciously, you’re so turned on that you don’t even need time to adjust to his size. Mark, on the other hand, doesn’t move.
He pants, face in the crook of your neck, and he’s doing his best not to move. You can feel your walls throbbing around him, and you guess he’s the one who needs time to adapt to being inside of you right now.
He removes himself from your body, once again grabbing your legs and keeping them together, pushing them to your chest while he prepares to start moving inside of you. Mark’s a sentimental person, he likes emotional and physical connection — and he knows that three thrusts inside of you while he kept his head in the crook of your neck, and he was going to be done for.
Instead, he keeps your thighs together, bringing more pressure on your tummy and on your core, while he starts moving.
He pants, droplets of sweat already forming on his chest and neck as he fight the urge to move too fast, because that would only make him finish on the spot.
The pressure becomes too much to handle almost immediately, and you claw at his forearms in order to ground yourself. You can’t help the moans escaping your lips, the friction bringing you a sort of relief, all while the pressure keeps growing in your lower tummy, making your insides melt.
With every thrust, you feel like you’re getting closer. With every thrust, you can’t control your moans and sounds, and the moment Mark’s thumb touches your clit it’s what makes the pressure finally explode inside of you.
And feeling your walls squeezing him uncontrollably, Mark finally lets go of your legs, finally dropping down on top of your body as his hips keep moving in between yours, sliding in and out of you with ease. He can finally have you like he wanted in the first place, head in the crook of your neck, lips grazing your jaw, kissing your lips that are already plump from all the kissing and all the biting down on them. He pats your head, fingers combing through your locks as he tries to soothe you, knowing that he’s overstimulating you.
You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, squeezing him and bringing him even closer, and Mark stills for a moment, head falling on your shoulder as he starts moving his hips slower.
“Fuck,” He grunts in your ear, finally climaxing inside of you, and the whole thing sends goosebumps across your skin.
He kisses his way up from your neck, to your lips, but stays inside of you for a bit longer, and you squeal tiredly feeling his lips on you once again.
“You know what, baby,” He rasps, all tired, but the way he’s looking at you is just so loving and sparkly, and you bring him closer in order to kiss him again. “I’m thinking I should ignore you more often,” He finally sighs, getting off you, but still dragging you after him.
You find comfort in his embrace, head resting on his shoulder as your nose nuzzles the skin of his neck, and you can’t help but giggle at his remark.
After all, you can’t really complain if he ignores you again in the future, if it meant you’d be ending the day this way.
your feral gojo fic does things to me… you should consider making more pls 🙏🙏 other than that i would one day love to see feral nanami :3 well yk not rlly feral but nanami being furious over his wife’s life being threatened n stuff ykwim TY I LOVE UR WRITING BTW
“APOLOGIZE.”
♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: A curse user has made the incredibly stupid decision to kidnap you, Nanami’s wife. And, well, it goes without saying that Nanami is protective over you. Very protective.
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || dark content, fem reader, angst, violence, kidnapping, descriptions of wounds, blood, and injuries, derogatory language, minor character death. Nanami doesn’t play about his wife!
♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4K
♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Requester, I think I overlooked the “not really feral” part until I was pretty much done with the fic, and Nanami is very unhinged in this. I’m sorry! I hope that’s okay! || artwork by @/shesdeny on instagram, permission for use granted!
The lavish restaurant offered the perfect date night ambience: live music, extraordinary food, and a dimly lit environment that, in truth, was much too dark for Kento Nanami’s liking, but at least he could still see the way your eyes sparkled as you rambled to him.
As Kento brought his glass of silky wine to his lips, he watched you reach for the warm bread in the basket at the center of the table.
Dipping it into the seasoned dipping oil, you took a bite of the sliced piece from the soft loaf as you detailed your last experience with this particular high-end steakhouse.
“ . . . the steak tasted like tires — tires, Kento — but the lobster was amazing! Still, though. I told Felicity that it’s absolutely crazy for a steakhouse to serve steak that I’m certain was made out of rubber bands or something.”
“How is it now? The steak?” Kento asked, nodding down at the half-eaten piece of meat on your plate.
“Delicious and tender,” you smiled at him warmly. That grin of yours? Well, it did something to him. The poor man had to clear his throat and adjust his tie a little bit — even after six years of marriage, your smile always managed to turn his cheeks into a light shade of red.
“They must've changed how they cook ‘em,” you added.
“That, or,” Kento’s hand reached for a piece of bread as he spoke. “I went out of my way to make sure it would be cooked to your liking.”
With a little laugh, you joked, “What? Don’t tell me you threatened the poor chef.”
“Of course not. Only a fool would be rude to the person preparing their meal. If I were, I’d imagine he would have actually served us car tires.”
“And from our own car as well!”
The sound of shared laughter between you and Kento blended in with the cellist’s beautiful melody.
It was perfect. Every bit of it.
The live, talented musicians. The delicious meals. The sight of you, his gorgeous wife, laughing, smiling, and talking throughout the evening.
It was perfect.
Until Kento’s phone started to vibrate in his pocket.
You could hear the low humming noise from where you sat.
“Who’s that?” You asked.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re on a date.”
“But it could be important, right? Sorcerers can’t really afford to miss any phone calls.” Grabbing your knife and fork, you cut off another piece of your steak. “It’s fine, honey. One phone call won’t ruin this date.”
Kento wanted to stand by his beliefs; by the standards he set for himself. Accepting phone calls during a date was rude. Just as rude as showing up carelessly late, or wearing a t-shirt and jeans.
Call it a gut feeling — or common sense, as he purposely put his phone on Do Not Disturb except for a few contacts he knew would only reach out in the case of an emergency — but Kento knew something was wrong.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. His eyes narrowed down on the screen that illuminated his frowning face, and there it was.
The confirmation that something was indeed wrong.
Kento answered the phone call. “What is it? I’m busy at the moment.”
The person on the other line talked for quite some time. Though you couldn’t quite make out their words, you had managed to get down three solid bites of steak before Kento spoke again.
“Right,” he said, then promptly ended the call.
“Something wrong?”
“Everything’s fine,” He lied — yet again going against the standards he set for himself. “Would you excuse me for a couple of minutes? I need to get some fresh air. I won’t be long.”
“Woah, woah, hey,” you called out before he could scoot his chair back, noticing the way his eyes, which always softly gazed at you with pure love, refused to meet yours. “I know that look. There’s a curse nearby, isn’t there?”
“No, of course not.”
“Mighty suspicious for a man who nearly passed out over the idea of accepting a quick phone call during a date suddenly being okay with vanishing for a few minutes.” You leaned across the table just a bit. Just enough for him to understand you were quite serious. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on, Kento?”
Kento sighed. But he gave in. He always did when it came to you.
“There’s a curse user a few blocks away-”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“But I could serve as a distraction, and you could sneak up on them, and then-”
“Then nothing. This curse user already outranks me. He’s a special-grade, one we’ve been trying to find for years now. For him to be hanging around outside nearby means that I could be walking into a trap, and I will not use my own wife as bait. I won’t be able to focus if I know you’re around. I need you to stay here, where I know you’ll be safe.”
Kento rose from his seat.
This was, to him, an unnecessary conversation, after all. He would sooner die during a battle with a curse or curse user than drag you into a fight with him.
“Kento, Kento, wait. Please. Why are you about to walk into a special-grade curse user’s setup?” You grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past your seat. “Please don’t go. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Oh, he did too. His heart rate quickened at the idea of his forthcoming mission. Kento couldn’t look you in the eye as he spoke — it was starting to become too much.
“I have to. I can hardly sleep at night knowing someone like him is roaming the streets. Someone who wouldn’t think twice about hurting you or killing you while you’re just on your way to the bakery or . . .” Kento released a shaky sigh. He tried to keep his voice low, not wanting to disturb nearby diners or live classical music enthusiasts, and he continued, “So I have to go. I have to do whatever I can to make this world a safer place for you.”
“Kento, I don’t like this. You know my gut feelings are always spot on. Just last week, I had a feeling that something was off with the dryer, and next thing you know, it broke. I had to squeeze out our towels in the sink and stick them outside until you were able to fix it, remember? Then there was that time when we ordered takeout sushi and I had a bad feeling about it. I didn’t seem spoiled or anything, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we should’ve ordered pizza instead. That next morning, we were both sick.”
Kento looked into your eyes then. The composed man tried to hide his true feelings; that underneath his cool, calm, and collected attitude, there was this feeling of terror he couldn’t quite shake.
“Sweetheart, I’ll be just fine.” He leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “I promise.”
And with that, you gave him a little nod though you frowned with great disapproval, and Kento walked through the restaurant’s doors just as the live musicians finished playing a breathtaking song.
—
It was well into the evening on a Wednesday night. Kento was rather busy, and therefore, he had to squeeze in date nights whenever he could — and, damn it all, he would — but being that it was a school and work night for most, the streetlight-illuminated roads were void of people for the most part, especially once he made a left turn into a dark alley.
Kento was tracking the curse user by the residuals he left behind at each location he visited, like a detective following footprints, but the man was no longer here.
He’s sending me on a wild goose chase, Kento thought.
It was like a never-ending game. After all, a special-grade curse user like himself could have decided not to leave behind any residuals. So, for all Kento could have known, he could have chosen to let Kento wander around in alleys like this, meanwhile, his true whereabouts were unknown.
—
Something wasn’t right.
He was taking too long.
You listened to the musicians play song after song. Finished your glass of wine. But, as your leg shook and you continuously checked your phone for the time, you couldn’t simply sit in the high-end steakhouse any longer.
He’s not gonna like knowing I paid the bill, you thought, a small smile spreading across your face at the thought of your classy husband and his gentlemanly tendencies.
But where was he?
You walked down the isolated streets, holding on to the bagged leftovers from your dinner. All you wanted to do was heat the food and enjoy it at home with Kento, then snuggle up in bed where you were both safe. Safe and together.
Glancing around at the empty shops and stores around you made you realize just how far you had strayed from the restaurant. You halted your footsteps, looking back in the direction from which you came.
This area was creepy. The orange streetlights were doing little to shine upon your surroundings, and the lack of people; it was all a telltale sign of incoming doom, you knew it. But what you didn’t know was whether or not your husband was right in the middle of it.
There was a figure approaching you, and three realizations fluttered in and out of mind:
It wasn’t Kento. The stranger lacked his solid build, blonde hair, and clothes suitable for fine dining.
You were happy to see another person walking around this suspicious area.
The person was headed straight for you, and suddenly, you weren’t so happy.
It was a man dressed in black clothing, one who walked fast and with purpose. You found your legs moving on their own, taking two tentative steps back. Your mind and body were in sync. Your mind screamed for you to run, run, and run, while your body turned in the opposite direction, neverminding the fancy dress that clung to your body, or the high heels you were, before now, quite excited to wear.
But it didn’t matter. The stranger’s hand suddenly came into your view and slammed against your mouth, covering it, and muffling the squeal that tried to fight its way out of your throat.
He was further away mere seconds ago. For him to have caught up to you, lightning fast . . . it dawned on you then.
This was the curse user Kento was looking for.
Your eyes went wide. Tears fell from them. You tried — tried like hell — to implement the self-defense techniques from the classes Kento asked you to take, but while an elbow to the gut might have stunned a regular person, this curse user only smiled.
His hand slipped away from your mouth for a second.
It was a second you took advantage of, inhaling a bit of air before screaming, “Help, please!”
He grabbed you then. He lifted you over his shoulder. Your high heels were no longer touching the sidewalk. The food you were carrying slipped from your hands, splattering across the ground.
Pointless screams and calls fell from your lips: “Let me go! Please, let me go!” “Someone help!” “Kento! Kento!”
But, as you were being carried away, as you struggled and squirmed, it hit you then why this curse user no longer bothered to cover your mouth.
There was no one around who could save you.
—
Kento Nanami was often praised for being a sorcerer who had his head screwed on straight. After all the gore and violence he had witnessed, he was still what most would consider to be an ordinary man with a decent mental health state.
That was why he stopped walking the second he heard what sounded like the sound of your voice, screaming his name. It was faint. Came from far enough away that it might as well have been the wind blowing past his ear.
But he hadn’t ever heard voices in the wind or hallucinated figures along the walls, but . . . but you were fine, right? You had to be. You were sitting in the restaurant, waiting for him, right?
He turned his head back and forth along the empty sidewalk, but in the end, his gut told him something was wrong.
Damn what the higher-ups would say. He was worried about his wife right now. He was certain you must’ve been worried about him too.
Therefore, he tugged on his tie a bit, and headed back to the restaurant, abandoning his search for the curse user.
—
“Did you see this woman leave this establishment?”
Kento asked the hostess frantically once he noticed a new couple was sitting in your previous spots. He held his phone up to her face, and her startled eyes glanced up at a grinning photograph of you.
“I-” she stammered. “Yes, she left a while ago.”
“Thank you,” Kento rushed out, and then practically bolted out of the see-through doors.
You were gone. His wife was gone.
He felt it then, his heart rate quickening, his breathing becoming uneasy.
Kento stood outside the restaurant, scanning his surroundings to see if, perhaps, you wanted to get some fresh air, but you were the love of his life. And he knew you quite well.
He knew you went off, searching for him after he didn’t return within a reasonable amount of time.
Kento opened a map on his phone. One that would reveal your location to him. The beautiful photo of you he set for your contact was unmoving, as if his wife were standing on a random sidewalk. As he started to run in that direction, his palms broke out into a sweat.
He was headed in the supposed direction of the curse user’s whereabouts.
—
When Kento stumbled upon the mess made along the sidewalk, he both wanted to cry, and kill someone.
To-go boxes were scattered about, leftover food spilled and splattered. Among the mess was your cracked cell phone.
“Oh my god,” Kento whispered to himself. “She’s . . .”
You’re what, exactly? What became of you? Where were you?
—
It took an hour.
One hour.
One fucking hour before Kento was able to track down the clever curse user.
The sorcerer stepped into a dark alley. He was heaving, his teeth clenched. His hand gripped the handle of his blade so hard, his knuckles turned white.
The special-grade curse user stepped out from behind a dumpster then, a gentle smile upon his face, his hands in his pocket.
“You took her.”
The curse user’s smile widened at the sound of Kento’s voice — at the sound of his anger — and he laughed lightly.
“Oh, hey, I know you. Mr. Nine-to-five, seven-to-three, ten-to-six — something like that, right? For you to be here now, you must have started your day later than usual, or . . .” The curse user vanished behind the dumpster, but only to roughly drag out what Kento assumed was a bag of garbage. But he was wrong. It was you. “I made the right decision when I captured this thing I saw you eating dinner with. You care enough about someone to work overtime, hm? How sweet.”
The curse user released the grip he had on your hair, letting you hit the filthy ground.
Kento’s eyes went wide at the sight of you. But not out of the shock of discovering his wife was here, but upon seeing the condition you were in.
The horrible condition.
Both of your high heels were broken. The destroyed shoes loosely clung to your feet, and Kento trailed his eyes over the palette of colorful bruises and cuts that spread across your trembling legs. Your dress was tattered and ripped in random places, and though your dress was red, he could tell the difference between the fabric and your blood stains.
The diamond necklace you wore was soaked in the wet blood that seeped from your mouth, down your neck, and across your heaving chest.
Your face was a drastically different sight compared to the stunning photograph of you, smiling. The one he sent to all of his friends.
He couldn’t see the makeup you took the time to excitedly apply in preparation for your date. He couldn’t see the cheeks he loved to kiss every morning, nor the lips he cherished feeling against his own every night.
Instead, he saw an enormous, bleeding gash running from the top of your ear, across your cheek, and through your upper lip. Your eye was swollen. Blood and tears coated your skin so much so, you would nearly inhale it into your mouth and choke.
The curse user raised his foot.
He brought it down on your injured head — a yelp shot out of your throat — and your head was smushed between the ground and his boot.
Kento charged at him — he tried, at least.
The curse user raised his hand, and suddenly, Kento’s body froze. He couldn’t move a muscle.
Of course. This special grade had the power to halt moving objects and people as he saw fit.
He didn’t use it as often as one would think, a sick bastard like him enjoyed watching his targets struggle, but he could feel the anger practically radiating off of Kento Nanami, and he refused to take his chances.
“Ah, ah, ah. Not another step,” the smiling curse user said. “Are you one of those men that like ‘em dumb? ‘Cause your wife isn’t that bright, ya know? Wandering the streets all alone, searching for you, I bet. You told her not to follow you, didn’t you? You ought to train your little bitch to follow orders better. What a useless dog.”
“Ken-to-”
“See what I mean? I told her not to speak, scream, or any of that, but she just won’t shut up. How do you put up with her talking, talking, and talking non-stop?” The curse user removed his foot from your head. His hand gripped your hair yet again, yanked you back so roughly, a burning pain soared throughout your scalp, and he wrapped his other hand around your blood-covered neck. “I’ll shut her pretty little mouth up for you permanently.”
The curse user started choking you right before Kento’s eyes.
Your bruised hands and split fingernails clawed at his skin, but it did nothing. Your legs started to squirm from pure panic, and Kento could do nothing except watch.
Out of the corner of the curse user’s eye, he noticed Kento’s body starting to tremble.
His satisfied smile changed into a confused frown.
He looked up at him fully, and his lips parted, a gasp escaping him as he saw your husband’s hand started to rise. He could only move slowly. And fighting against this cursed technique hurt like hell.
But he could still move.
Impossible.
Your husband’s fingers hooked around his tie, and he pulled it off, then wrapped it around his hand.
The curse user barely had time to blink before he felt the impact. He was in the air for a second, uncertain if he was hit with a fist or a blade, but whatever it was, it made his skull ache terribly, but that didn’t terrify him nearly as much as the fact that this man could move right now.
His back smacked against the ground with an unpleasant thud. Blood spewed from his mouth, and he heard haunting footsteps. Ones that belonged to the pissed-off sorcerer, who he swore — he swore — had doubled in size compared to the pictures his fellow curse users had shown of him.
“How can you move? You-”
Kento interrupted the curse user by slamming his wrapped fist into his mouth.
“Who the hell do you think you are? Hurting my wife? Speaking to her that way?” He did it again. And again. And again. “I’ll shut you up permanently."
You scooted yourself into a corner beside the dumpster, gasping for air as you watched your husband stand over your attacker and continuously smash his face in until he experienced a pain greater than your own.
The curse user gagged.
“Listen to that. The sound of you choking on your own teeth. It sounds like music to me,” Kento said darkly.
His fist was covered in blood. The curse user’s face was a mess of said blood. But Kento wasn’t finished. He thought about how terrified you must have been. How much your wounds must have hurt. How someone as kind as you was undeserving of the pain you were in.
God, he wanted to kill this bastard, bring him back to life, and kill him again.
The curse user turned his bloodied head to the side, trying to spit out some of the blood filling his mouth, but Kento placed his foot on the man’s head, squishing him in between his shoe and the ground — just like he had the nerve to do to you, Kento’s precious wife, earlier.
“I can’t let you die just yet. You tortured the love of my life. I think it’s only fitting I prolong your suffering until you’re on your knees before her, apologizing,” Kento kneeled, grabbing the curse user’s hand. “These are the hands you hurt her with, hm? I don’t think you have any further use for them.”
You knew what was coming when Kento grabbed his wrapped blade. You closed your eyes — though your swollen one was practically already closed — and you brought your trembling, injured hands to your ears, but you could still hear the curse user’s ear-piercing screams.
The curse user had only cried twice before in his life. When he fell during a game of tag as a toddler, and now.
Now, tears poured from his eyes, and he was spewing gibberish that Kento couldn’t quite understand for a moment. Not until he saw the apologetic look in the man’s teary eyes.
“What are you trying to say? Are you trying to apologize to me? Why?” Kento raised his bloody blade. “She’s the one you had the audacity to disrespect. She’s the one you put your filthy hands on. She’s the one. And after all of this, you still don’t respect her enough to think she’s worthy of her own, sincere apology, do you?”
Kento grabbed the man by his short hair. He then dragged him in your direction before tossing his limp body in front of your trembling figure.
“Apologize to my wife, then I’ll send you to hell where you belong. Apologize.”
More gibberish. It wasn’t good enough — the man couldn’t speak, after all, but it didn’t matter how great his apology was.
He was going to die.
Kento kicked the curse user in the side.
He sent him flying, rolling across the dirty ground, and Kento approached, daydreaming about all the ways he’d take a life tonight.
By now, Kento’s blonde hair, which was usually neat, was messy with sweaty blonde strands sticking to his forehead. He took off his blood-covered suit jacket, tossing it on the ground, and the shirt he wore underneath was unbuttoned, stained, and revealed his bulging muscles and veins.
Kento raised his fist. The tie he wrapped around it was not only covered in the blood of the curse user, but dotted in the blood from Kento’s splitting knuckles as well, but he didn’t care. He punched that man like his life depended on it.
—
As time passed, it wasn’t until a large hand wrapped around his wrist, seizing his movements, did Kento realize he had beaten man to death.
“That’s enough, Nanami. He’s dead.”
The voice belonged to Satoru Gojo. Kento recognized it, even with that rarely-heard serious tone, but he hadn’t yet bothered to look at the white-haired man just yet. His eyes were still on the curse user.
Kento rose to his feet then, breathing heavily.
“He hurt her.”
“I know. I saw her,” Satoru replied, though he hadn’t yet let go of Kento’s wrist. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to do so. “Take a coupla deep breaths, okay?”
Kento didn’t listen. He snatched his arm away from Satoru with a strength that even surprised the world's strongest sorcerer, and he made his way over to you.
Satoru watched him walk away as their assistant, Kiyotaka Ijichi, approached him from behind.
“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Satoru said to the dark-haired man, watching as Kento got down on his knees before you. “Knowing he beat a special-grade curse user to death is just terrifying. I mean, look at that guy.”
Satoru glanced down at the deceased curse user, and Kiyotaka did the same, adjusting his glasses.
“That man died half an hour ago, and Nanami was still . . .” Satoru released a breath. “It’s my fault. I should’ve gotten here quicker. Then, maybe, his wife would’ve been fine, and he wouldn’t have had to go that far.”
“Well, at least they’re both still alive. We should be grateful for that,” the assistant said, then turned, making his way back to his parked car just outside the alley.
—
Kento gently scooped you up, holding you against him. “Come here, sweetheart. It’s okay. I know it hurts. You must be freezing.”
You tried to turn away from him, not wanting your husband to see the state that your face was in, but he softly touched your chin and guided your teary gaze back in his direction.
He held you close then. Trying his hardest to keep you warm.
Kiyotaka approached cautiously with a purple blanket in hand. He reached down slowly, and held it out to Kento, who took it and said, “Thank you.”
The disheveled man wrapped the blanket around your trembling body, only pausing when he heard you trying to speak — an utterly painful act, thanks to your crying, your bruised throat, and your split lip.
“This is . . . this is all my fault. I just wan-wanted . . .”
“Shhh, don’t try to speak. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I never should have left you alone. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Kento’s thumb graced the dried specks of blood on your cheek. “I can’t believe someone did this to you. I can’t believe I . . .”
“Shhh,” You shook your head. The last thing you wanted was for him to blame himself.
“We’re going to take you to the hospital. Close your eyes and get some rest.” Kento rose to his feet with you in his arms. As gently as he could — with a gentleness that was a sharp contrast compared to the way he brutally murdered someone moments before — Kento pressed a kiss against your forehead. “I love you. And I promise you no one will ever hurt you again.”
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