Yes, all your co-workers warned you about him. Choi Jongho, the guy from tech support, who occasionally flirted with you. It was just harmless flirting, playful banters here and there.
You had no idea why everyone else at work kept their distance from him. Jongho was the sweetest guy ever. He even had at the sweetest smile, it was too contagious.
Jongho really was the sweetest, the kindest person you had ever met. And he was charming too, he knew what to say, when to say. He was a happy-go-lucky guy in the office, yet everyone seemed to be weary of him.
Well, of course you paid no mind to them. Your bond with Jongho was magical, too strong to be broken by any doubts. You’d never had second thoughts about him.
Although one day, certain events changed everything you had ever perceived of Jongho.
It was a simple link, sent to you by an anonymous sender. And the link opened to a livestream—not any other ordinary livestream, it was a stream from a red room.
Yes, you had dabbled with dark web quite a few times, you knew how to hack into servers and all the stuff. But there was a reason why you stayed away from red room streams. You weren’t really fond of torture porn.
So, when that link opened up, you were appalled, then curious of the man who was streaming it. He wore a kistune mask, covering most of his face but leaving his lips exposed.
That’s when you noticed it, the odd detail about this particular—his lips, they were familiar. It didn’t take you long to put two and two together.
It was Jongho who was streaming. He was torturing another man tied to a chair. You didn’t feel disgust after knowing who Jongho was torturing—it was one of your own co-workers who had crossed a line and flirted with you, and even after rejection, he persisted.
The stream continued for a while, and you watched it till its end. In the dimly room, Jongho stepped closer to the camera after cleaning his hands and adjusting his mask.
He leaned closer and muttered, “did you enjoy the show, my sunshine?”
“I did it all for you, I did it all to keep you safe.” He admitted, “you’re my everything, and I’ll burn the world down if anyone ever even tries to look at you wrong.”
You swallowed hard and he continued, “I’ll see you tomorrow, at work.”
Choi Jongho x female reader
Jongho streams in red rooms on dark web. And you are someone who just so happens to be caught up with him—his obsession, his love. How do you think this would end?
a/n: do I even need to add a warning list for this? I’m sorry in advance. Also, this work belongs to “saint and sinners” series, which will be dropping out soon. Till then I’d like to mention that this WILL BE THE MOST UNHINGED SHIT IVE EVER THOUGHT OF AND WRITTEN. Sorry, Jongho. I’d also like to emphasise that this is fiction and doesn’t relate to the idol in any shape or form.
If I don’t bother you then can you make a hc where ateez found out their s/o had another bias before knowing them and get jealous?
pairing: Ateez x reader!
warnings: fluff, jealousy, established relationship
disclaimer: not my pic!
Hongjoong
His studio glows the soft gold of late evening, the kind that makes the dust in the air look like tiny planets. Hongjoong sits at his computer, headphones pushed back so they form a halo around his neck. He’s clicking through tracks with that laser focus he gets when he’s building a beat one heartbeat at a time.
You’re stretched across the couch behind him, scrolling slowly, thumb drifting more than tapping. The room feels peaceful in that way only his studio ever does, full of quiet hums and muffled bass.
“I swear,” you mumble, half-laughing to yourself, “TikTok fan edits used to own me. I even made a few when I first got into K-pop.”
Hongjoong chuckles, the sound warm and proud. “I can imagine you making edits of me. Slow zoom, dramatic filter, sparkles everywhere.”
You go rigid for exactly one second. Then, too quickly, you say, “Yep.”
The click of his mouse stops.
His shoulders shift, and he turns in his chair just enough to glance back at you. His eyes narrow, not in suspicion, but in curiosity sharpened to a point.
“Wait,” he says, voice low. “Was that… edits of me? Or edits of someone else?”
You hesitate. The room goes still. Even the speakers seem to hold their breath.
“…Yunho,” you finally confess, soft as a secret you wish would dissolve midair. “My bias was Yunho back then.”
Hongjoong blinks. Once. Twice.
“Huh.”
Then he turns around again. Not annoyed. Just… processing. The way he always does: quietly, with a tiny shift in posture that gives him away more than his expression ever will.
You rise from the couch and pad over to him, looping your arms around his shoulders from behind. You press a kiss to the side of his head, then another to his cheek, softer than the brushes of old film reels.
“Now you’re the only one for me,” you whisper, the words slipping right into the warm curve of his neck.
He hums in reply, a deep little sound, half acceptance and half trying-not-to-smile.
“I’m okay,” he promises. And he is. Hongjoong is too grounded to be shaken by old history, but not above a bit of theatrical flair.
You kiss his cheek again and lean over him slightly. “So, Captain. What are you working on?”
He doesn’t even look up from the screen as he answers.
“A new song.”
A beat.
“It’s called ‘Betrayal.’”
You smack his shoulder lightly, laughing, while he finally lets the corner of his mouth rise.
Seonghwa
You showed him videos from your summer trip, your phone glowing like a small lantern between you. You sat pressed against Seonghwa on the couch, the room warm and quiet except for the soft soundtrack of your travel clips.
He watched each video with that gentle smile he always wore when he was quietly proud of you.
“You look so good happy,” he said as you played a clip of yourself laughing under a waterfall.
“I was,” you said. “But I’m happier now.”
You kept swiping through your gallery until you reached the end. Without thinking, you swiped one more time.
And an old photo appeared.
It was you at an Ateez concert, wearing an Ateez shirt and holding up a banner with San’s name on it. Your smile in the picture was impossibly bright.
You panicked and tried to swipe it away, but Seonghwa caught your phone with quick fingers.
“Hold on… what was that?” he asked.
He swiped back.
The picture came up again. Concert you. Fan-edited lighting. San’s name in bold.
Seonghwa froze for a moment. Then he let himself fall backward onto the couch like a dramatic hero in a low-budget play.
He threw an arm over his forehead for added effect.
“San?” he said. “San was your first bias? I didn’t stand a chance.”
You laughed until tears pricked your eyes. You climbed onto him, bracing your hands on either side of his shoulders. He looked up at you with the most exaggerated pout imaginable.
“It was just a phase,” you said, leaning close. “A tiny phase. I’m head over heels for you now.”
His pout softened instantly. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer.
“Good,” he said. “I’d hate to compete with San. He’s too powerful.”
You kissed him, slow and sure, and he relaxed fully beneath you.
“Besides,” he murmured with a small grin, “you clearly upgraded.”
Yunho
The bar buzzed with music and half-shouted jokes, the kind of warm, rowdy noise that always followed Ateez wherever they went. You sat tucked under Yunho’s arm in the booth while the rest of the guys crowded around the table, empty glasses forming a small battlefield between them.
Someone suggested a drinking game. Someone else shouted agreement. And suddenly you were all in too deep to escape.
When it was your turn, Wooyoung leaned forward with a wicked grin.
“Reveal who your first Ateez bias was,” he said, “or take a shot.”
You didn’t even blink. You just grabbed the shot glass and downed it in one smooth motion.
The table roared with laughter.
But Yunho didn’t laugh.
He tilted his head, eyes wide with curiosity. “Why did you drink so fast? Who was it?”
“You don’t want to know,” you said, tapping your empty shot glass.
“I do,” he insisted, leaning closer. “Come on. Just tell me.”
You hesitated, your courage slipping like a soap bar.
Then, very fast, you mumbled, “Mingi.”
Yunho blinked. “Who?”
Before you could answer, Mingi shot up from his seat like a firework.
“ME?” he shouted, pointing at himself with both thumbs. “I was your first bias? I KNEW I had main-character energy!”
The table erupted. Yeosang covered his face. San nearly fell off his chair laughing. Yunho stared at you, mildly betrayed and extremely confused.
“Mingi?” he repeated, trying to compute it. “Really?”
You shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even remember why. It was years ago. Maybe I liked his voice? Or his hair? Or his… height?”
You waved it off with a small laugh. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re the sexiest. And the best. Obviously.”
Before Yunho could decide whether to blush or pout, you cupped his face and kissed him, slow and confident, right there at the table. The others hooted and hollered, but Yunho didn’t care. His shoulders relaxed instantly, like your words had untied a knot he didn’t realize was there.
Mingi, however, leaned across the table with a smug grin.
“Just saying,” he declared, “first bias energy never dies.”
Yunho threw a napkin at him, grinning despite himself, and pulled you closer under his arm.
Yeosang
You sat curled up on the couch with Yeosang, your legs stretched over his while he scrolled on his tablet. Your phone was pressed to your ear as you chatted with your best friend, both of you drifting through the kind of nonsense memories only old friends could unpack.
“…and I found your old concert tickets,” your friend said. “Plus that folder of photos you tried to edit yourself. The chaos? Iconic.”
Yeosang glanced over, mildly interested but quiet as always. You gave him a small smile and kept talking.
Then your best friend kept going.
“Oh! Do you remember when you spent an entire month’s salary just to get that fancall with Wooyoung? And then you got sick on the day and cried for two hours?”
You shot upright.
You choked on air.
You violently waved your hand at your phone like it was a bomb about to detonate.
“haha yeah very funny...let's talking about something else tho.”
But it was too late.
Yeosang blinked at you, a slow turn of his head, his brows lifting just a little.
There was no drama in his face. Only confusion sharpened to a fine edge.
You swore under your breath and hung up the call, staring at him with a fragile smile that deserved its own apology letter.
“So…” he said carefully, “Wooyoung?”
You rubbed your temples. “Yeah. I… might have had a tiny crush on him.”
“A tiny one?” he asked, pointing toward your phone like it was the evidence of a crime. “You paid a whole month’s salary.”
You groaned. “I was young.”
“You were twenty-three.”
You collapsed back against the couch, covering your face with your hands.
“Fine. Yes. I used to like Wooyoung. I thought he was cute and funny and chaotic and—”
Yeosang blinked again. “But you told me you’re into quiet guys.”
You peeked at him through your fingers.
“I am.”
“You literally just described Wooyoung’s opposite.”
“Yes,” you said, sitting up straighter now. “Because I didn’t know I liked quiet guys until I met you.”
That stopped him. His irritation softened into surprise. Then into something sweet, something shy, something almost reluctant to show on his face.
Still, he pouted. Just a little.
A tiny downturn of his lips that made him look like a very gentle, very beautiful cat who had just been told his food bowl was empty.
You leaned forward, cupped his jaw, and kissed him once. Twice. Slowly. The kind of kiss meant to erase every loud memory of Wooyoung from the timeline.
When you pulled away, you whispered, “I only have eyes for you now.”
His pout didn’t disappear, but it shifted into a soft curve, and he pulled you against him with a quiet sigh.
“…Good,” he murmured. “I prefer it that way.”
San
You and San stumbled into your room still tangled in each other’s arms, breathless and laughing between kisses. The world outside the hallway blinked out the moment the door shut behind you. His hands slid to your waist, yours twined behind his neck, and everything felt warm and clumsy and perfect.
Then San took one step backward, bumped into your shelf, and disaster struck.
A box tumbled down, hit the floor, and burst open like a confetti cannon of your past life. Photocards scattered everywhere. Albums slid out. A lightstick rolled dramatically across the carpet.
San froze.
You froze harder.
“Leave it,” you said quickly, reaching for his wrist.
But San was already crouching. Already squinting. Already processing.
And then he saw them.
A whole handful of Hongjoong photocards.
He picked one up. Then another. Then another.
“Why… why are there so many?” he asked, completely baffled. “Did you rob the company storage?”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “San. Please just leave them for Gods sake."
But he was in too deep. He lifted an old slogan banner, stared at Hongjoong’s face plastered across it, and blinked three times as if his brain was rebooting.
“I thought I was your bias from the start,” he said, genuinely wounded.
You let out a long sigh and sat beside him on the floor. “Well....no....”
His head snapped toward you like a startled puppy.
You continued. “Hongjoong was my bias. And… you were my bias wrecker.”
San slowly straightened up, crossing his arms with the pout of someone who believed the universe had wronged him personally.
“So he was first,” he said. “And I was second.”
You chuckled softly and slid onto his lap, cupping his face in both hands. “You weren’t second. You were the one who ruined the list completely.”
He didn’t respond, but the pout stayed, stubborn and adorable.
You kissed him once, gentle as a confession.
Then again, slower, brushing away whatever little storm brewed in him.
“Please don’t be mad,” you whispered. “I’ll make it up to you.”
His pout wavered.
“I’ll show you that you’re my number one now.”
At that, something bright flickered behind his eyes. His arms loosened, settling around your waist as he pulled you closer.
“…You better,” he murmured, though his voice was already softening into a smile.
You kissed him again, and this time, San melted into it completely, Hongjoong photocards forgotten on the floor.
Mingi
You lay tangled with Mingi under the blankets, the room dim except for the soft glow from your phone as your playlist drifted lazily from song to song. He kissed you between verses, slow and warm, his hand resting on your waist while your fingers played with the hem of his shirt.
Another song began to play.
Then another.
Then another.
Mingi paused mid-kiss, narrowing his eyes at your phone screen.
“Babe,” he said, squinting, “is this… the third Jongho song in a row?”
You laughed. “Maybe.”
He raised an eyebrow, playful and exaggerated.
“So what I’m hearing is… Jongho is your bias now? And I’m just here for decoration?”
You snorted at that, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “No. You’re not decoration.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he said, trying not to smile.
You meant to tease him. Truly.
You didn’t mean to say it.
But the words slipped out anyway.
“Well… he used to be my bias before you.”
Mingi stopped moving.
Fully. Completely.
He lay there frozen, lips parted, eyes wide like you had just told him he was adopted by wolves.
“Are you serious?” he asked, voice a little higher than usual.
You cursed under your breath and rubbed your face. “It was a long time ago. Before I even really knew you. Before I learned your personality. And your voice. And your smile. And—”
He still looked stunned, blinking slowly like he was updating his internal software.
Before he could react, you grabbed his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks slightly.
“Mingi,” you said firmly, leaning in until your nose brushed his, “who is the one in my bed right now?”
He stared at you.
You raised an eyebrow.
“…Me?” he said.
“Yes,” you whispered, meeting his eyes. “You. Not Jongho. You.”
His expression softened instantly, the shock melting into something warm and bashful. His hands slid to your hips, pulling you closer as a grin spread across his face.
“So I win?” he asked, voice low and hopeful.
You kissed him, slow and certain. “You absolutely win.”
Mingi relaxed under you completely, wrapping his arms around you like he intended to keep proving it for the rest of the night.
Wooyoung
Wooyoung lounged beside you on the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table while a concert replay flickered across the TV. The camera panned over rows of screaming fans waving banners and lightsticks, some holding up signs with their favorite members’ names surrounded by neon hearts.
Wooyoung pointed at the screen with a smug grin.
“Look at all of them. Bet you used to write my name on a banner too, huh?”
You snorted. “Well I would now.”
His smile vanished. His head snapped toward you so fast his hair bounced.
“Wait. Now? What do you mean now? Why not before?”
You winced. “I really don’t want to talk about that.”
He studied your face for a moment, then nodded dramatically.
“Fine. I respect your privacy.”
He turned back to the TV.
For exactly five seconds.
Then he peeked at you again.
“…it was San, right? Or was it Mingi?” he asked, voice sly and poking at your patience.
You groaned and buried your face in your hands.
“Wooyoung. Please.”
He threw his head back with a loud sigh and slumped into the couch cushions.
“Okay, okay. I give up.”
A beat passed.
“As long as it wasn’t Seonghwa, I don’t care.”
You froze.
Wooyoung sensed the shift instantly. His eyes widened like he had just touched a cursed artifact. He slowly stood up, staring at you in horror.
“…Y/n...no,” he whispered.
You opened your mouth.
He made a disgusted sound and jumped away from you like you had confessed to dating tax fraud.
“SEONGHWA? Seriously? He’s so boring compared to me!”
You stood too, hands lifted to calm him. “Please don’t make a big deal out of it. It was years ago.”
“Years?!” he cried, pacing. “Why him? Why Seonghwa? I mean, he’s handsome, yeah, but I’m—” He pointed to himself. “Me!”
You sighed. “Do you really want me to tell you why I used to fancy him?”
Wooyoung stopped pacing so fast you almost heard a record scratch. He shook his head violently, hands up like you were holding a weapon.
“Nope. Absolutely not. Do not elaborate. Do not explain. Never mind. Forget I asked.”
He marched over to you, cupped your cheeks dramatically, and kissed you hard.
“You’re mine anyway,” he mumbled against your lips, still slightly offended. “So it doesn’t matter.”
You laughed softly as he pulled back just enough to glare at you with mock seriousness.
“But you have to swear,” he said, poking your forehead, “swear on everything you love, that you will never tell Seonghwa about this.”
“I swear,” you said, trying not to smile.
“Good.”
He flopped back onto the couch, tugging you with him and hugging you like a pouty koala.
“Because I would never hear the end of it.”
Jongho
You sprawled across the bed with your phone held above your face, kicking your feet mindlessly while Jongho sat beside you, peeling an orange with that calm, methodical focus of his.
“I took this BuzzFeed test,” you said, scrolling back through the results, “and it told me my ideal type is someone introverted, reserved, and quiet.”
Jongho chuckled, popping a piece of orange into his mouth.
“That… actually makes sense. Sounds a little like me.”
He paused, then added, “Though it also fits Yeosang.”
You shrugged. “True. Yeosang was my first bias anyway.”
The orange slice fell out of Jongho’s hand.
He turned his head slowly, eyes wide.
“Your… first bias?”
You blinked at him, confused. “Yeah? Is that a problem?”
Jongho’s mouth pressed into a line. He lifted his chin a little, trying to look unbothered, but the tiny huff that escaped him ruined the whole act.
“I’m fine,” he said.
He was not fine.
You watched him fall completely silent, staring ahead with the expression of someone who had just lost a competition he didn’t know he was in. A full minute passed.
Then he asked quietly, almost grumbling,
“But… why him?”
You burst into laughter and grabbed the nearest pillow, smacking him lightly with it.
“Jongho, shut up.”
He caught the pillow mid-swing with a dramatic sigh, but the faint smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. He leaned into you, letting his head rest against your shoulder, pretending he wasn’t secretly pleased that you were laughing instead of talking about Yeosang.
His hand found yours, squeezing once.
“…Still think the test was right,” he muttered.
You kissed the top of his head, laughing again. “Yeah. Me too.”
Tropes: Gym trainer × student, found family, slow burn, jealous!Jongho, protective boyfriend, friends-to-lovers (with a crush twist), soft domestic moments
Featuring: Ateez OT8 + Mina & Hyejin (reader’s best friends)
Y/N has always been told she’s “pretty for her size,” never quite enough in the eyes of others. But when she decides to step into a gym for the first time, she doesn’t expect to meet Jongho — the quiet, steady trainer who sees her differently from the start. Between awkward first sessions, lingering smiles, a jealous outburst at a party, and the slow realization that nothing between them is casual… she begins to learn what it feels like to finally belong.
Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2
The rain hit them from all sides, soaking them further as they sprinted down the riverside path, shoes slapping against the wet pavement. Y/N laughed breathlessly despite herself, the absurdity of it all bubbling out in a bright sound that carried through the storm.
Jongho glanced back at her, water streaming down his face, and for the briefest second, she saw it—his smile. Wide, unguarded, brilliant even in the rain.
And in that moment, Y/N didn’t care that she was soaked, or cold, or confused about what it all meant.
All she knew was that she wanted to keep running toward him.
The dorm was buzzing even at this hour, laughter and game sounds spilling down the hall. Jongho opened the door, Y/N just behind him — and the room fell into stunned silence.
Seven heads turned in unison.
“What the hell?” San blurted, eyes wide. “Did you two swim home from the Han River?”
Wooyoung nearly dropped his soda. “No way. Look at them. They’re drenched!”
Yunho gaped. “It’s like you walked straight through a storm!”
“We did,” Jongho muttered, peeling off his soaked shoes.
Yeosang raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “And this was… intentional?”
Hongjoong leaned forward on the couch, his tone sharper than the others. “What were you doing out there?”
That was all the invitation Wooyoung needed. His grin spread wide, wicked. “Ohhh, I think I know. Date night?”
San clapped his hands together. “Midnight romance by the river, was it?”
Mingi pointed dramatically. “And the grand finale — synchronized swimming!”
The living room erupted in overlapping voices and laughter.
But then Yunho’s expression shifted. He frowned, leaning forward. “Wait. She’s actually shivering.”
The room stilled a fraction.
Mingi’s grin faltered. “Oh—”
“Y/N, are you cold?” Yunho asked, his voice softer, almost brotherly.
Wooyoung’s smile dimmed, his eyes narrowing as he took in the way Y/N hugged her cardigan to her soaked frame, her lips faintly pale. “She’s freezing.”
San dropped the teasing completely, his brow furrowing. “You should have said something sooner.”
Hongjoong stood, decisive. “She can’t sit here like this. Jongho—”
“I know,” Jongho cut in, already moving. He slipped his hand lightly to Y/N’s shoulder, steadying her as he guided her down the hall.
She blinked at him, startled. “I’m fine—”
“You’re not,” Jongho said firmly. “You need to warm up. Now.”
The guys didn’t argue. Their laughter had vanished, replaced by quiet concern as they watched her go.
Steam filled the bathroom within minutes as Jongho turned the shower on hot, adjusting the knob until the water misted the glass. He grabbed a towel from the stack, setting it carefully on the counter.
Y/N hovered in the doorway, her wet hair dripping onto the tiles, her cardigan hanging heavy from her shoulders.
“Go in,” he said softly, nodding toward the stall. “You’ll warm up faster.”
She hesitated. “But I don’t—”
“I’ll get you something dry to wear.” His voice stayed calm, even though his chest was tight.
Her brows lifted. “Your clothes?”
“They’ll be too big,” he admitted, ears already heating, “but they’ll be warm.”
For a moment, she just looked at him, as if searching for a reason to argue. But another shiver racked her frame, and she gave a small nod.
“Okay.”
Jongho lingered only long enough to add, “Take your time. Don’t rush.”
In his room, he rifled through drawers, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants with a drawstring. They’d swallow her whole, but that was fine. Better too big than too cold.
He hesitated, the clothes clutched in his hands, before shaking his head. Don’t think about it. Just get her warm.
As he stepped back into the hall, San’s head poked around the corner, his smirk already creeping back. “Ooooh, getting her clothes, huh?”
Jongho leveled him with a flat stare. “San.”
San’s grin faltered under the weight of it. “…Right. Not the time.” He ducked back out of sight.
Jongho exhaled through his nose, knocking softly on the bathroom door. “Y/N? I left some clothes out here. Hoodie and sweats. They’ll be comfortable.”
There was a pause, then her voice, soft but steady: “Thank you.”
He set them on the counter, his hand lingering just briefly on the wood before he pulled back.
“Take your time,” he repeated, quieter now.
And then he leaned against the wall, waiting, trying to still the storm inside his chest.
Jongho closed the bathroom door behind him after leaving the clothes for Y/N and went straight to his room. He peeled off his drenched shirt and jeans, dragging dry sweatpants up his legs, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head. His body warmed quickly, but his thoughts wouldn’t settle.
The memory of the court lingered, sharp and insistent.
Her laughter still in his ears. The stars — or what few of them had managed to shine through — above them. The way her eyes had met his, steady, soft.
He had wanted to kiss her.
Not the passing urge of the moment. A real, bone-deep want. His whole body had leaned into it before his brain could catch up. He could still feel the echo of her breath, the way she hadn’t pulled away, the anticipation flickering in her gaze.
And then the rain had come, pulling them apart.
He dragged a hand over his face, muttering under his breath. You’re in trouble, Jongho.
The living room was just as loud when he returned, his hair damp but his body dry.
“Finally,” Wooyoung said dramatically. “We thought you drowned too.”
San tilted his head. “Where’s Y/N?”
“In the shower,” Jongho replied evenly.
A beat of silence. Then Yunho’s brows rose. “…In your shower?”
Jongho’s eyes narrowed. “She was freezing. Do you expect me to let her stay like that?”
That shut them up — for all of five seconds.
Wooyoung grinned. “Look at him, being all domestic.”
Mingi clutched his chest. “Our maknae, growing up so fast.”
Before Jongho could respond, the bathroom door opened down the hall.
Y/N stepped out hesitantly, damp hair curling around her face. His hoodie swallowed her, sleeves covering her hands, the sweatpants pooling at her ankles. She looked impossibly small and soft, blinking against the living room lights.
The room erupted.
“She’s so cute,” Yunho whispered loudly.
“She looks like she stole his clothes after a sleepover,” Mingi added, grinning.
San’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “Couple aesthetic, anyone?”
Even Yeosang’s lips twitched. “Oversized suits her.”
Y/N flushed, tugging the hoodie tighter around herself as if she could hide.
Before she could retreat, Jongho moved. He crossed the room in a few strides and — without thinking twice — took her hand.
Her eyes widened, startled, but he didn’t let go. He didn’t even look back at the others as he said, low and firm, “Come on.”
The teasing choked off behind them as he led her down the hall. He could feel their stares boring into his back, could hear the muffled laughter bubbling up again the second his door shut.
But he didn’t care.
Her hand was warm in his, small against his palm, and he tightened his hold just enough to steady her.
The dorm was quieter now, the hum of voices from the living room fading as doors shut and the others drifted off to bed. Jongho’s room was warm compared to the hallway, a small pool of calm after the chaos outside.
Y/N curled up on the sofa under his blanket, still wrapped in his oversized hoodie. The fabric smelled faintly of detergent and something that was just him — clean and warm, grounding.
But despite the hot shower, despite the blanket, she couldn’t stop the occasional shiver that rippled through her.
Jongho lay on his bed a few feet away, propped up against the headboard, scrolling absently on his phone. He kept stealing glances at her, though she pretended not to notice.
“You’re still cold,” he said suddenly, his voice low in the quiet room.
“I’m fine,” she murmured.
His brows drew together. He hesitated, then said before he could stop himself: “You could… come here. My bed’s warmer.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Jongho froze, eyes widening as the weight of what he’d just said hit him. “I mean— not like that,” he rushed, his words tumbling over each other. “Just— it’s bigger, the blanket’s thicker, and— you’re still shivering, and—”
Y/N’s laugh broke through his ramble, soft but real, easing the tension in the air. She pushed the blanket aside and stood, the sleeves of his hoodie dangling past her hands.
“You really need to work on your explanations,” she teased gently.
His ears burned red, but he couldn’t help the small huff of laughter that escaped him. He shifted over, making space as she crossed the room and slipped carefully into the bed beside him.
The mattress dipped under her weight, and for a moment they lay stiffly, side by side, both staring at the ceiling as if it suddenly held the answers to everything.
Then Y/N exhaled, a quiet sound, and relaxed into the pillow. The warmth of his blanket wrapped around her instantly, soothing, steady.
“This is… nicer,” she admitted softly.
Jongho turned his head slightly, watching her in the dim light. Her damp hair fanned across his pillow, her cheeks pink, her lashes brushing against her skin as she blinked up at the ceiling. She looked so small and so brave all at once, choosing to be here with him.
His chest ached.
They started talking in low voices, the kind of conversation that drifted easily in the dark. About little things — his brothers’ teasing, her students at school, random memories that made them laugh quietly. Every time her shoulder brushed his, his pulse jumped, but he didn’t move away.
At some point, Y/N shifted, rolling onto her side to face him. Her eyes shone softly in the lamplight, curious and searching.
“Jongho?” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
Her throat bobbed, but she held his gaze. “At the court… were you going to kiss me?”
His breath caught. He could lie, dodge, play it off. But lying felt impossible when she was looking at him like that, her face inches from his on the pillow they now shared.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I was.”
Her lips parted. “Oh.”
“I wanted to,” he added, his voice firmer now. “I still do.”
The air between them thickened, charged. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, and she had to bite back the nervous laugh that rose in her throat. She shifted slightly closer, the fabric of the hoodie brushing against his arm.
Neither of them moved to close the last bit of space. Neither of them needed to. The truth was already there, woven into the quiet, into the warmth of the shared blanket, into the way Jongho’s ears burned crimson though his face stayed calm.
For the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t feel like she was too much, or not enough. She just felt… seen.
After everything — the dinner, the storm, the laughter at the court, Jongho’s steady warmth — it felt surreal to be here, in his bed, sharing the same blanket, breathing the same air.
She shifted slightly, turning over.
And froze.
Jongho was already facing her.
His dark eyes met hers instantly, only inches away on the pillow. The shock of it sent heat rushing to her cheeks.
“I—” she stammered, embarrassed. “I wanted it too.”
His brows furrowed, confused. “Wanted what?”
Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his hoodie. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her voice trembled. “At the court. When you leaned in. I… wanted you to kiss me too.”
For a moment, his eyes widened, the words hanging heavy between them. Then, slowly, he propped himself up on his forearm, leaning closer.
The lamplight caught the curve of his cheekbone, the faint flush on his ears. His gaze flicked down to her lips, then back to her eyes, searching, almost asking.
Y/N’s breath caught, but she didn’t pull away.
And then he closed the last bit of space.
His lips brushed hers softly, almost tentative at first, like he was afraid she’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. The warmth of it sent sparks racing down her spine, her body going rigid with shock before melting into the gentle press of his mouth.
When she kissed him back, shy and hesitant, Jongho let out a quiet sound — a low, unguarded moan that vibrated against her lips. It startled her, but it also made her heart lurch, her stomach flipping at the realization of how real this was, how much he’d wanted this too.
The kiss deepened only slightly, slow and tender, nothing rushed. His hand hovered near her cheek as if resisting the urge to touch, his self-control taut even now.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads lingered close, breaths mingling in the small space between them.
Y/N’s lips tingled, her heart racing so hard she thought it might give her away. She blinked up at him, still stunned.
Jongho’s face was steady, but his ears were crimson, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
Neither of them spoke at first.
Finally, Y/N whispered, almost in disbelief: “We actually kissed.”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward, a faint, breathless smile. “Yeah. We did.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N didn’t feel like she was too much, or not enough. She just felt… wanted.
The first kiss left Y/N dizzy, her lips tingling, her heart pounding like it wanted out of her chest. She was still catching her breath when Jongho’s gaze flicked to her mouth again, darker this time, hungrier.
“Can I…” he whispered, his voice rougher than before.
She nodded before she could think.
The second kiss was nothing like the first.
It was deeper, more urgent, his mouth pressing firmly against hers like he’d been holding back for too long. Y/N gasped softly, her fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie. He angled closer, his forearm braced on the pillow as his other hand slid down, catching at her waist where the hoodie had ridden up.
His fingertips brushed bare skin. Warmth shot through her body, a sharp jolt that made her shiver for an entirely different reason.
Jongho pulled back just slightly, breath ragged, his eyes searching hers. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, the words tumbling out raw and unguarded as his thumb traced gently over her skin.
Her stomach flipped, heat blooming low in her belly. No one had ever said it like that before — not with that kind of certainty, not while looking at her like she was the only person in the world.
Without thinking, her hand slid up his chest, curious, needing to feel.
Firm muscle met her palm, solid and warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. She stroked lightly, marveling at the strength coiled there, at the way his breath caught when her fingers grazed higher.
The realization hit her all at once: he wanted this. He wanted her.
A needy sound slipped from her throat before she could swallow it down, and Jongho groaned softly in response, his lips finding hers again with renewed urgency. His hand at her waist tightened, pulling her just slightly closer, the heat between them sparking, dangerous and delicious.
Her head spun. Every nerve in her body felt alive, tuned to him — the press of his mouth, the weight of his body leaning toward hers, the firm plane of his chest under her trembling hand.
She had never felt this wanted. Not like this.
They finally broke apart, gasping softly, foreheads resting together. Jongho’s chest rose and fell quickly, his ears flaming red though his gaze stayed locked on hers, intense and earnest.
“I mean it,” he whispered, his thumb still stroking her bare skin. “You’re beautiful. Every part of you.”
Y/N’s breath hitched, her body trembling under the weight of his words, the sincerity in them. Heat curled low in her stomach, a thrum she couldn’t ignore.
She had never imagined she’d be here, in his bed, wrapped up in his warmth and words and kisses. And now, with his chest solid under her hand, with his lips swollen from kissing hers, all she could think was that she didn’t want the night to end.
The first thing Y/N registered was warmth.
Something solid pressed against her back, steady and comforting, and the rise and fall of a slow breath tickled the crown of her head. For one disoriented moment, she thought she was still dreaming.
Then she shifted slightly — and felt the weight of an arm draped over her waist.
Her eyes flew open.
The small dorm room came into focus: the faint light seeping through the blinds, the soft rustle of the blanket, the muted hum of voices somewhere beyond the door. And behind her, very real and very close, was Jongho.
Her heart nearly burst out of her chest.
She was curled into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, his chest firm and warm against her back, his breath brushing her hair with each exhale. His arm lay heavy at her waist, not tight, just resting there like it had found the place it belonged.
Last night rushed back in fragments: the laughter on the court, the almost-kiss in the rain, the warmth of his bed, the way his mouth had moved against hers again and again until she thought she’d melt. His voice whispering she was beautiful. The way she had touched his chest, trembling but needing to feel.
And now this.
Her cheeks flamed.
Carefully, carefully, she slid out from under his arm, her heart pounding as if she were defusing a bomb. Jongho stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his brows furrowing faintly before smoothing again.
She slipped off the bed, clutching at the hem of the oversized hoodie that still swallowed her frame. The memory of his lips lingered, impossible to shake, and she pressed her palms to her burning face, trying not to squeal out loud.
She went to the bathroom and later slipped back into the bed as if she was never gone.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, fresh in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, she was sitting stiffly on the sofa, scrolling through her phone just for something to do.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice still husky from sleep.
She glanced up. “Yeah.”
For a moment, silence stretched, thick with everything they weren’t saying.
Then Jongho moved toward the tiny kitchenette. “I’ll make breakfast.”
Y/N blinked. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he said, steady, not looking at her.
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
The smell of toasted bread and eggs soon filled the room, warm and homey. Y/N sat at the small table while Jongho moved around the counter with quiet efficiency, sliding a plate in front of her with a simple, “Eat.”
She stared down at the food — eggs, toast, a little fruit. Nothing fancy, but her chest clenched all the same. No one had made her breakfast in… she couldn’t even remember how long.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
He gave a small nod, sitting across from her.
For a while, they ate in silence. Y/N kept waiting, kept stealing glances at him, hoping he would say something. That he’d bring it up. That he’d give last night a name — a definition, a meaning.
But Jongho ate quietly, expression calm and unreadable, as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
She fidgeted with the edge of the hoodie sleeve, her mind spinning. Why isn’t he saying anything? Does he regret it? Was it just… nothing to him?
Her chest ached.
She opened her mouth once, almost ready to ask. But the words shriveled on her tongue. She was terrified of the answer, terrified he would tell her it had been just comfort, just casual.
So she stayed quiet.
When she finally finished, Jongho collected the dishes without a word, rinsing them in the sink. The whole time, Y/N sat frozen at the table, fighting the frustration that burned low in her chest — not at him, not really, but at herself for not having the courage to ask.
When it was time to leave, Jongho walked her to the door.
“You’ll be okay?” he asked quietly.
She forced a smile. “Yeah. Thanks for… letting me stay.”
He gave a short nod. “Text me when you get home.”
She slipped her shoes on, still in his hoodie, and stepped out into the morning light. The dorm door shut softly behind her, leaving her with nothing but the sound of her racing thoughts.
Y/N shut the door of her apartment behind her and leaned against it, eyes closed, letting out a long breath. The quiet pressed in instantly, a stark contrast to the warm chaos of Jongho’s dorm.
She was still wearing his hoodie.
The sleeves hung past her hands, the fabric soft against her skin, faintly smelling of detergent and something that was distinctly him. She hugged it closer to herself, sinking onto the couch with a groan.
What the hell just happened?
Images replayed in her mind like a montage she couldn’t stop: Jongho’s lips brushing hers, the way he’d murmured “you’re beautiful” against her skin, the weight of his arm around her when she woke.
And then breakfast.
Plain eggs and toast, his calm expression as he slid the plate across the table, the way he’d said eat like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn’t kissed her breathless hours before.
Her stomach twisted.
He hadn’t said anything. Not about last night. Not about what it meant.
She picked at the sleeve of the hoodie, chewing her lip. Maybe it was her fault. She could have asked. She’d had the chance, sitting right there across from him. But the words had stuck in her throat.
Because what if it hadn’t meant anything?
Her chest ached at the thought. What if it was just casual for him — a heat-of-the-moment thing, something he’d already filed away as no big deal?
But it hadn’t felt casual.
Y/N pressed her face into her hands, groaning. God, you’re such a mess.
She dragged herself into her bedroom, tossing her bag into the corner and collapsing on the bed.
The ceiling stared back at her as she replayed waking in his arms — his breath warm against her hair, his chest steady against her back, his hand resting at her waist. She’d felt so safe, so wanted, in a way she hadn’t in years.
Her fingers brushed the fabric of the hoodie again, and her heart squeezed.
It had to mean something. Didn’t it?
But then his face at breakfast floated back to her — calm, unreadable. Too calm. Like maybe it hadn’t shaken him the way it had shaken her.
Frustration bubbled up in her chest, sharp and hot. She wanted him to just say it. To tell her what it was, what they were now. Anything.
Instead, she was left here, spiraling in her apartment, trying to convince herself it wasn’t all in her head
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Jongho: Did you get home safe?
Y/N’s chest tightened. She stared at the screen, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
Yes, thank you.
She typed it out, read it, deleted it. Typed again.
Yes. Just got in.
Her finger hovered over send.
It looked so cold. So flat.
But what else could she say? Yes, I got home safe. By the way, did you mean it when you kissed me a dozen times last night? Or was that just casual trainer-client fun?
She groaned, flopping onto her stomach, and hit send before she could overthink it further.
The message marked as delivered. No reply yet.
She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling again, the silence in the room pressing in around her.
Y/N stayed like that for most of the afternoon, caught between replaying Jongho’s lips against hers and scolding herself for letting it matter so much.
It was ridiculous. One night. A few kisses. And she was already tying herself into knots over it.
But the truth was simple.
She didn’t want it to be casual.
She wanted it to be real.
By late afternoon, Y/N had barely moved from her bed. Her phone lay on the pillow beside her, Jongho’s last text still sitting unanswered. She’d told him she was home safe, he’d replied with a simple Good. Rest well.
That was it. Nothing more.
The silence gnawed at her.
She was still tangled in the hoodie, its sleeves hanging past her fingertips, when a knock rattled her front door.
“Y/N! Open up, it’s us!”
Mina.
Y/N groaned, dragging herself up. She shuffled across the apartment and pulled the door open. Mina and Hyejin stood there with a bag of snacks and a bottle of wine, grinning like they’d planned this ambush all day.
“You look cozy,” Hyejin said the second she stepped inside, eyes narrowing at the hoodie. “Wait a second. That’s not yours.”
Mina gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my god. Is that… a boy’s hoodie?”
Y/N’s face went hot. “It’s nothing—”
“It’s not nothing.” Mina tugged at the sleeve playfully. “Who’s is it? Tell me everything.”
Y/N tried to brush past them, but Hyejin plopped onto the couch, patting the seat beside her. “Sit. Spill.”
They flanked her like seasoned interrogators, opening snacks with practiced ease.
Y/N buried her face in her hands. “You two are impossible.”
“Correct,” Mina said cheerfully. “Now talk.”
It took several minutes of dodging and deflecting before the words finally tumbled out.
“We… kissed,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Both Mina and Hyejin froze, then shrieked in unison.
“You WHAT?” Mina’s eyes went wide. “When? How? Where?”
Y/N groaned again, dragging the blanket over her head. “Last night. After the storm. In his room.”
“In his room?” Hyejin repeated, her jaw dropping.
“Not like that!” Y/N peeked out from under the blanket, flustered. “We just… we talked, and then it happened. And then it kept happening.”
Mina fanned herself with a chip bag. “Our girl is out here living a romance drama.”
Hyejin’s grin softened. “And how did it feel?”
Y/N hesitated, her chest tightening. “Like… like I’d been waiting for it without realizing it. Like I finally mattered to someone.”
Her friends exchanged a look, their teasing giving way to something gentler.
“But,” Y/N added quickly, her voice cracking. “He never said what it meant. Not last night, not this morning. He made me breakfast, like nothing happened, and just… sent me home.”
Frustration bubbled in her throat. “And I was too scared to ask. What if it was just casual for him? What if I made it bigger than it was?”
Mina leaned forward, squeezing her hand. “Y/N. Jongho doesn’t strike me as the type to do anything casually.”
Hyejin nodded firmly. “If he kissed you, and kept kissing you, and let you stay in his bed? That’s not nothing.”
Y/N’s eyes stung. “Then why didn’t he say it?”
“Maybe,” Mina said softly, “because he’s scared too.”
The words lingered in the air, wrapping around Y/N like a balm she didn’t quite dare believe.
They spent the rest of the evening sprawled on the couch, eating snacks and sipping wine. Mina and Hyejin teased her plenty, of course, but their laughter was comforting, their reassurances steady.
Still, as Y/N curled into the oversized hoodie later that night, their words echoed in her head.
If he kissed you like that, it’s not nothing.
She wanted to believe it. She really did.
But the uncertainty pressed in all the same, leaving her caught between hope and fear.
Jongho sat on his bed with a smile on his face.
That alone was unusual. He wasn’t the type to wear his emotions openly, not even in the quiet of the morning. But today, no matter how hard he tried to school his features, his lips kept tugging upward, the corners of his mouth betraying him.
The bed beside him was empty now, the blanket still faintly warm where Y/N had been. The hoodie she’d worn hung loose over his desk chair. The memory of her soft weight curled against him, her sleepy warmth pressed into his side, made his chest ache in the best way.
And the kisses — god, the kisses. He’d replayed them half the night even after she fell asleep, each one longer, sweeter, hungrier than the last.
She kissed me back.
The thought looped in his head, grounding him more than any alarm or routine ever could.
By the time he walked into the kitchen, most of the guys were already up, sprawled across the couches and chairs, half-asleep but buzzing with curiosity.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Wooyoung sing-songed, his grin far too wide for the early hour.
Jongho gave him a flat look. “Morning.”
San squinted at him over his cereal. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” Jongho asked, pouring himself a glass of water.
“Like you just won the lottery,” Yeosang said, his voice as dry as ever.
Mingi leaned over the back of the couch, grinning. “Or like you just got laid.”
Jongho nearly choked on his water. “What—”
Wooyoung slapped the table. “I knew it! Something happened last night!”
The room erupted in voices, all of them at once.
“Tell us everything!”
“You disappeared with her soaked to the bone and came back with her in your clothes.”
“She slept in your room, didn’t she?”
“Are you two together now?”
Jongho set his glass down slowly, expression calm, though his ears burned crimson. “She stayed. Nothing else.”
“Stayed,” Yunho echoed, arching a brow. “In your bed?”
“Yes.”
The chorus of gasps and whistles nearly made the walls shake.
“And?” San demanded, leaning forward eagerly.
Jongho exhaled, realizing there was no way out of this. “We kissed.”
For a second, the room went dead silent.
Then chaos.
“You WHAT?” Wooyoung shrieked.
“Oh my god,” Mingi crowed, clutching his chest.
“Finally,” Yeosang muttered, shaking his head.
Hongjoong just crossed his arms, smirking faintly. “Took you long enough.”
“Wait, wait,” Yunho said, holding up a hand to stop the flood of voices. “So… are you two together now?”
The question hit Jongho like a slap. He froze, blinking.
Together.
He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t even thought to.
All he knew — all he could cling to — was how much he wanted her to be. He wanted her to be his girlfriend, his, in no uncertain terms. But did she feel the same?
His stomach dropped.
“I… don’t know,” he admitted.
The silence that followed was brutal.
“You don’t know?” San repeated, his voice incredulous. “You kissed her all night, let her sleep in your bed, made her breakfast, and you didn’t ask?”
Jongho’s ears flamed hotter. “It didn’t come up.”
“Didn’t come up?” Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. “Maknae, you’re hopeless.”
“You’re stupid,” Yeosang said bluntly.
“Completely stupid,” Hongjoong added, though his tone was more amused than harsh.
Mingi groaned, throwing himself back against the couch. “So she could be at home right now thinking it meant nothing.”
The words made Jongho’s chest clench. He hated that thought, hated the idea of her doubting, of her replaying it with the same self-consciousness she carried everywhere else.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clawing at him. “I didn’t think— I just… I wanted her close. I didn’t want to ruin it by pushing too fast.”
San leaned back, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to push. You just have to say something.”
Hongjoong smirked faintly. “Better fix it before she starts overthinking.”
Jongho’s jaw tightened. He knew they were right. He knew it too well.
And now all he could think was that he needed to see her again — not just to kiss her, not just to hold her, but to finally tell her everything.
Three days.
It had been three days since Y/N left his dorm in his hoodie, her cheeks pink from sleep, her lips swollen from too many kisses. Three days since she’d pressed a soft thank you into the air and walked out before he could figure out what to say back.
And in those three days, all Jongho had from her were hesitant texts.
Did you get home safe?
Yes. Thanks again.
How was your day?
Fine, just busy.
Did you eat yet?
Yeah, at home.
No emojis. No little rambles about her students or Mina’s ridiculous study antics. No warmth bleeding through the screen the way it always had before.
Jongho sat on the edge of his bed, thumb hovering over the phone screen, rereading the short exchanges until his chest hurt. He wanted to believe she was just overwhelmed with school. He knew she had exams coming up, deadlines looming.
But the doubt clawed at him anyway.
She’s pulling back.
Maybe she was regretting it. Regretting the kisses, the way she’d curled into his side like she belonged there. Maybe she’d woken up, thought it through, and realized it was a mistake.
The thought made his stomach twist until he felt sick.
“Maknae,” San’s voice cut through his haze.
Jongho glanced up to see San leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, sharp eyes scanning him. “You’re sulking.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” San stepped into the room, dropping onto the bed without asking. “You’ve been quiet for days. Even quieter than usual. That’s saying something.”
Jongho rolled his eyes, setting his phone face down. “I’m fine.”
“Fine,” Wooyoung echoed as he popped his head in, grinning like a cat who smelled trouble. “Our Jongho spends half his life glued to his phone, sighing like a drama lead, but he’s fine.”
Jongho shot him a flat look. “Don’t you two have anything better to do?”
“Nope,” Wooyoung said cheerfully, bouncing onto the bed beside San.
San tilted his head, gaze narrowing. “Is it Y/N?”
Jongho stiffened.
That was answer enough.
Wooyoung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Oh my god. Did she reject you?”
“No,” Jongho snapped, sharper than he intended. His hands clenched in his lap, frustration brimming under his skin. “She didn’t— it’s not that.”
“Then what?” San pressed.
Jongho hesitated, jaw tight. He didn’t want to spill everything to them — the way her lips had felt under his, the way his chest still ached at the memory of her pressed against him. Those moments were his, private, too raw to hand over.
But San’s steady gaze and Wooyoung’s curious tilt didn’t leave much room for escape.
“She’s… distant,” Jongho admitted finally, the word heavy on his tongue. “Texting, but short. Careful. Different.”
San’s brow furrowed. Wooyoung’s grin faded a little.
“Different how?” San asked.
Jongho exhaled. “Like she regrets it.”
The silence that followed made his chest burn hotter. He hated saying it out loud. Hated the way it sounded, like he was already losing her.
“Idiot,” Wooyoung muttered.
Jongho’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“You heard me.” Wooyoung shrugged, lying back on the bed. “She’s probably just overthinking. That’s what she does, right? You’ve told us before. She overthinks everything. Maybe she’s just scared.”
San nodded slowly. “Wooyoung’s right. She doesn’t strike me as someone who’d kiss you like that and then just… regret it. Maybe she’s waiting for you to say something.”
Jongho clenched his jaw. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. He wanted to tell her that night, when her lips were soft against his and his hand was warm at her waist. But the words had stuck in his throat, heavy with fear of ruining what they had.
Now the silence was eating them alive.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said finally, steady but low. “At our next session.”
San patted his shoulder like he was a kid announcing his first exam. “Good. Before you drive yourself insane.”
Wooyoung snickered. “Too late for that.”
Jongho shoved him off the bed.
The gym buzzed with its usual noise — the thud of weights hitting the floor, the low hum of treadmills, the metallic clank of machines. Jongho moved through it all with practiced focus, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the floor.
Except today, his focus wasn’t on the equipment.
It was on her.
Y/N walked in right on time, dressed in her usual comfortable leggings and loose top, gym bag slung over her shoulder. Normally, she’d wave or offer a small smile when she spotted him, but today she barely glanced his way. Just a polite nod, quick and cautious, before heading toward the lockers.
Jongho’s jaw tightened.
When she returned, he guided her through warm-ups, his voice even, professional. She followed his instructions precisely — too precisely. No small jokes about hating stretches, no half-smiles when he corrected her posture. Just clipped nods, her gaze fixed anywhere but his face.
“Keep your back straighter,” he said, adjusting the angle of her shoulders lightly with his hand.
She stiffened under his touch, pulling back just slightly, enough to make the air between them heavy.
“Like that?” she asked quickly, her tone almost nervous.
“Yeah,” Jongho said, though his chest ached.
They moved on to the machines. She focused hard, eyes glued to the weights as if willing them to distract her from everything else. When he tried to catch her gaze, she looked away instantly.
By the time she was finishing her last set, irritation buzzed under Jongho’s skin like static. Not at her — never at her — but at the wall she was putting up between them.
He wanted to shake her, to demand: Why won’t you look at me? Do you regret it that much?
Instead, he kept his voice steady. “Good work today. Same time next week?”
She nodded, wiping her face with a towel. “Yeah. Thanks.”
That was it. No lingering. No warmth. Just polite distance.
Jongho watched her sling her bag over her shoulder and head toward the exit, his chest tight.
No. He wasn’t letting it end like this.
By the time she stepped out into the evening air, Jongho was right behind her.
“Y/N.”
She turned, surprised. “Oh—Jongho. Did I forget something?”
“No.” He fell into step beside her, his stride steady. “I’ll walk you home.”
She blinked. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue further. They walked in silence, the streetlights flickering to life overhead. Jongho’s mind churned with everything he wanted to say — to ask — but before he could form the words, a too-familiar voice cut through the evening.
“Well, well. Y/N?”
Both of them turned.
Hyunwoo — tall, broad-shouldered, with that practiced easy smile — was leaning casually against a lamppost just ahead. He pushed off it smoothly, strolling toward them with hands in his pockets like he owned the whole street.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” he said, his eyes sweeping over Y/N before lingering far too long. “You looked amazing at the party, by the way. I’ve been meaning to ask if you’d like to grab coffee sometime.”
Y/N froze, her lips parting. “I—”
Before she could get another word out, Jongho moved.
He stepped between them, his posture straight, his voice low but firm. “She’s already with someone.”
The words rang out sharper than he expected, final and undeniable.
Hyunwoo blinked, surprised, before his smirk returned. “Oh? And you would be…?”
“Jongho,” he said flatly, his eyes hard. “Her boyfriend.”
The word tasted dangerous on his tongue, but he didn’t flinch.
Behind him, Y/N’s breath caught audibly.
Hyunwoo’s smirk faltered, but only slightly. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, his eyes darting between them. “Well. Guess I was too late then.”
He gave Y/N one last lingering look — enough to make Jongho’s fists clench — before backing away with a half-shrug. “See you around.”
When he was gone, the silence that followed was deafening.
Jongho exhaled slowly, his jaw still tight, his chest still pounding. He turned to Y/N, meeting her wide, stunned eyes.
For the first time in days, she was looking right at him.
The echo of Jongho’s words still hung in the air.
Her boyfriend.
It had shot out of him like an arrow, instinctive and sharp, before his brain could stop it. And now the street was quiet again, the only sound their footsteps against the pavement.
Y/N walked a half step behind him, silent.
Jongho’s pulse pounded in his ears. His expression stayed calm, but heat crawled up the back of his neck, flooding his ears crimson.
“I—” He cleared his throat, his voice rough. “I didn’t mean… well, I did mean it. Just not like that. I mean, yes, like that, but not… that way.”
He winced internally. Smooth.
Y/N said nothing.
He pushed on, words tumbling faster than he could catch them. “What I meant is that you’re not available for people like him. Because you’re not. Because I—because what happened between us wasn’t nothing. At least not for me. And if he thinks he can just swoop in and act like you’re some—some girl he can just flirt with on the street, then he’s wrong.”
His jaw clenched. “Because you’re not just some girl.”
Silence.
Jongho rubbed the back of his neck, his ears burning hotter. He hated rambling, hated how clumsy the words sounded when he let them spill out like this. But every time he glanced sideways at her, she was still quiet, her gaze fixed on the ground.
His chest tightened. She thinks I’m an idiot.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” he muttered, voice low now. “I just… lost my cool. I don’t usually. But when he started talking to you like that, when he looked at you like—” He cut himself off, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
The air between them thickened. Y/N clutched the strap of her bag tighter but stayed silent.
Jongho swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his expression steady even though his ears betrayed every ounce of embarrassment. “Anyway. I’ll walk you the rest of the way. Then I’ll shut up.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, jaw set, as they fell back into silence. His heart hammered against his ribs, frustration eating at him. He didn’t regret stepping in. He didn’t regret claiming her.
But he hated not knowing what she was thinking.
And for the first time in years, Jongho felt truly unsettled — because he wanted her answer more than anything, and she wasn’t giving it.
The walk felt endless.
Jongho’s words kept replaying in Y/N’s head, louder than the sound of their footsteps, louder than the city itself.
Her boyfriend.
He’d said it like it was nothing, like it was obvious, like it was already true.
Her chest felt tight, her thoughts spiraling. Did he mean it? Did he only say it to get Hyunwoo to back off? Was it just instinct, protective and nothing more?
She kept sneaking glances at him from the corner of her eye. His face was as calm as ever, but his ears were bright red, glowing even under the streetlights. He was embarrassed. He’d rambled and fumbled through explanations after, which was unlike him, and that unsettled her even more. Jongho never rambled.
So why for me?
Her stomach twisted. She wanted to believe it was because he meant it. Because he wanted it to be real. But the doubts screamed louder — that maybe it was just heat of the moment, maybe he’d regret it once the words sank in.
By the time they reached her apartment building, her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. She stopped in front of the door, fumbling for her keys, but her eyes caught his face.
He looked… sad.
Not disappointed, not angry — sad, like he thought he’d pushed too far. The sight pierced through her chest like a knife.
Before she could lose her courage, the question slipped out.
“Do you… really want that?”
Jongho blinked, startled. “What?”
Her throat felt dry, but she forced herself to look at him. “Do you really want to be my boyfriend?”
The silence that followed nearly broke her.
Her fingers tightened on the strap of her bag. “Because if you just said it to get rid of him, that’s okay. I understand. I just— I need to know.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t.
Jongho’s lips parted, his steady façade flickering. For a moment, he looked at her like she’d just handed him the most fragile, precious thing in the world — her heart, trembling and uncertain, but offered anyway.
And Y/N’s chest ached with the fear of what his answer would be.
The words tumbled out of Y/N before she could stop them, raw and clumsy in the night air.
“I thought the kiss was just… casual for you. That you didn’t think much of it.”
Jongho went still. So still that for a second she thought he hadn’t heard her. But then his shoulders tightened, his eyes widening — physically startled, like her words had struck him.
“Casual?” he repeated, his voice low.
Heat crawled up Y/N’s neck, shame burning her cheeks. “I mean… you never said anything. You made me breakfast like nothing happened. And then you just—” Her voice cracked, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag. “You never said what it meant. So I thought maybe it didn’t mean anything to you.”
For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the streetlight above them.
Then Jongho moved.
His hand rose slowly, hesitantly, until his palm cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed gently along her skin, steadying her even as her heart stuttered wildly.
“Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice firm but tender. “I don’t go around kissing people casually.”
Her breath caught.
His gaze held hers, unwavering, like he was afraid she’d look away before he could make her believe him. “I like you. I’ve liked you since the first time I saw you walk into the gym. You were nervous, you thought everyone was judging you, but you still came. And you were—” He broke off, exhaling, his thumb stroking her cheek again. “You were beautiful. And strong. And I couldn’t stop noticing you.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
“It’s not just how you look,” he continued, his voice steady, unshakable now. “It’s the way you laugh when you’re comfortable. The way you care so much about your students. The way you show up, even when you don’t believe in yourself. I like you. All of you. And I don’t want this to be casual. I want to be with you.”
The words hung between them, so earnest, so certain, that Y/N felt her chest ache.
But her doubts clawed at her anyway, sharp and cruel.
Her voice trembled. “But… you could have had better. Prettier girls. You probably already had girlfriends before, girls who— who looked nothing like me.”
The corners of Jongho’s mouth twitched. For the first time that night, a small, incredulous laugh escaped him.
She blinked, startled. “Why are you laughing?”
He shook his head, his hand still warm against her cheek. “Because you’re wrong.”
Her brows furrowed. “Wrong?”
His lips curved into a faint smile. “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”
Y/N froze.
Jongho’s gaze softened, steady and calm in a way that made her throat tighten. “Never. Not once. You’re the first person I’ve wanted enough to cross that line with.”
Her heart thundered. She searched his face, looking for any crack, any sign of doubt, but there was none. Just the steady truth in his eyes and the warmth of his hand on her skin.
Something inside her cracked open — a fragile, aching hope that maybe, just maybe, she could believe him.
For a heartbeat, Y/N just stared at him. Jongho’s hand was warm on her cheek, his words echoing through her like a second pulse. I’ve never had a girlfriend. You’re the first person I’ve wanted enough to cross that line with.
Her chest felt too small for everything inside it.
And then he leaned in.
The kiss was nothing like the ones from before — not hungry, not urgent. It was soft, unhurried, like he was pouring every unspoken word into the press of his lips. His thumb brushed her cheek as if reminding her to breathe, and the warmth of him wrapped around her like a promise.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. The world shrank to the steady beat of his heart and the way his mouth lingered on hers, gentle but full of feeling.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm and even.
Y/N’s lips trembled, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I like you too.”
His chest rose sharply against hers, a quiet inhale, as if her words had knocked the air from him.
Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to keep going, even if her voice wavered. “I was scared. I thought you didn’t mean it. But I— I like you. So much that it… it scares me.”
His lips curved into the faintest smile, and his thumb stroked her cheek again, softer this time.
“Good,” he murmured. “Then we’re scared together.”
A laugh bubbled in her throat, shaky but real, easing some of the tension curling through her chest.
They stood there in the quiet of the street, the city humming distantly around them, neither ready to break the moment. Y/N’s gaze dropped to the ground, her nerves fluttering wildly as the thought formed in her mind.
“Jongho?” she asked softly.
“Mm?”
Her fingers twisted in the strap of her bag, her voice timid. “Do you… want to come up? Just—” She swallowed, her cheeks hot. “I don’t want you to leave just yet.”
For a second, she thought she’d pushed too far. Her heart hammered in her chest, ready to retreat, to cover the words with some clumsy excuse.
But Jongho’s expression softened, his ears turning pink even as his lips curved faintly.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I want to.”
The knot in her chest loosened, replaced with a nervous, fluttering warmth. She managed a small smile, turning to unlock the door.
And as they stepped inside together, side by side, the weight that had sat heavy on her shoulders for days finally began to lift.
The apartment was quiet when they stepped inside, the only sound the soft click of the door shutting behind them. Y/N set her bag down with shaky fingers, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that Jongho was standing in her living room.
In her space.
With her.
She turned, meaning to say something — anything — but the words caught when she saw him. He looked out of place in the soft glow of her apartment lamp, tall and steady, his hands in his pockets. But his eyes, when they found hers, were warm. Certain.
The tension in her chest loosened.
“You can sit,” she murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the couch.
He nodded, settling into the cushions, looking both impossibly relaxed and too large for the small space. Y/N hesitated for a beat, then sank down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
For a moment, neither spoke. The air felt charged, heavy with everything they’d said outside and everything still unsaid.
Then Jongho shifted slightly, his arm brushing against hers. “Can I?” he asked softly, tilting his head toward her.
She blinked. “Can you what?”
His lips curved faintly. “Hold you.”
Her heart stuttered, but she nodded quickly.
He lifted his arm, and she leaned in without hesitation, curling against his side. His warmth enveloped her instantly, the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek grounding her in a way that made her eyes sting.
They stayed like that for a while, breathing in sync, the world narrowing to just the quiet comfort of his body against hers.
Eventually, Y/N tilted her head up, finding his gaze. His eyes softened when they met hers, and the corners of his lips tugged upward.
She swallowed hard. “Jongho…”
But before she could finish, he leaned down and kissed her.
It was soft at first, slow, his lips brushing hers in a way that felt like a promise. Her hand found his chest again, instinctive, pressing lightly against the firm muscle there. He let out a quiet hum, the sound vibrating against her mouth.
The kiss deepened.
His hand slid from her shoulder to her waist, pulling her closer, and she went willingly, shifting until she was half-curled into his lap. Her fingers clutched at his shirt, her breath hitching when his tongue brushed against hers, gentle but deliberate.
Heat sparked low in her stomach, curling tighter with every press of his mouth.
When they broke apart, both were breathless, foreheads pressed together.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low, strained with something she’d never heard from him before.
She shivered, her body trembling at the way he said her name, like it meant more than anything else.
“Again,” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed onto hers this time, hungrier, needier. The kisses turned deeper, faster, a rhythm neither wanted to stop. His hand slipped under the hem of her hoodie, brushing against bare skin, and she gasped softly into his mouth.
Her body lit up under his touch.
She wasn’t thinking anymore, wasn’t overanalyzing. All she knew was the heat of him, the way his breath came faster, the way her body ached with want.
Her hand, almost unconsciously, slid beneath his shirt, fingers splaying across the hard plane of his stomach. His muscles tensed under her touch, and a low sound escaped him — half-groan, half-moan — that sent shivers down her spine.
“God,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look at her, his ears flushed red, his lips swollen. “You’re going to kill me.”
She laughed breathlessly, shy and exhilarated all at once, before tugging him back down into another kiss.
The kisses turned messy, heated, their bodies pressed close. His hands roamed carefully, reverently, never pushing too far but lingering enough to make her shiver. Her fingers traced the ridges of his chest, the solid warmth of him beneath her palms, and every sound he made in response only stoked the fire curling through her.
For the first time, she felt wanted — truly, undeniably wanted.
And it made her want him back, just as fiercely.
The kisses turned hungrier, messier, their bodies pressing closer with every shift. Y/N felt heat curling through her like wildfire, her skin tingling everywhere Jongho touched. His hand on her waist, his mouth devouring hers like he couldn’t stop — it was overwhelming, intoxicating.
“Jongho,” she whispered, breathless, when his lips trailed down her neck, soft at first, then more insistent.
He hummed low against her skin, the vibration making her shiver. “Tell me if I’m going too fast.”
She shook her head, tugging him closer. “Don’t stop.”
That was all he needed.
His hands slipped under her hoodie, pushing it up over her head. She gasped as cool air brushed her skin, but his gaze anchored her instantly. His eyes swept over her, wide and reverent, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, almost like a prayer. His fingers brushed her side, soft but firm, and she melted under the way he looked at her — like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.
Her hands tugged at his shirt next, fingers fumbling until he lifted it off. She froze for a second, staring at the solid planes of his chest, the sculpted muscle under pale skin.
He flushed, ducking his head slightly. “Don’t stare.”
“You’re… perfect,” she breathed, her hand sliding across his chest.
A soft groan escaped him, his jaw tightening. “Y/N…“
They toppled onto the couch together, Jongho bracing his weight carefully above her. His lips captured hers again, harder this time, their tongues sliding together in a way that made her stomach clench.
Her body ached with want, every nerve on fire. She could feel the hardness pressing against her thigh, straining against his sweatpants, and the realization sent another rush of heat straight between her legs.
Tentatively, she slid her hand down, brushing against him through the fabric.
He broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, his forehead dropping to hers, his breath shuddering. “Fuck—”
Her cheeks burned, but she pressed a little firmer, curious, wanting to feel more.
His hips jerked despite himself, a low groan ripping from his chest. “Y/N, if you—” He cut himself off, his ears flaming red.
She swallowed nervously, then whispered, “Can I…?” Her hand hovered at the waistband.
His eyes snapped open, dark and wide, searching her face. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she said softly.
For a moment, he just stared at her, chest heaving, as if he couldn’t believe her. Then he nodded, his voice rough. “Okay.”
She tugged his sweatpants down, her breath catching when his cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already leaking at the tip.
“Oh…” she whispered, her face hot.
Jongho groaned, his hand covering his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”
She bit her lip, leaning down, curiosity and arousal tangling inside her. Tentatively, she licked at the tip, tasting salt and heat.
Jongho’s entire body jolted. His hand dropped from his eyes, gripping the cushion instead, his knuckles white. “Fuck, Y/N—”
Encouraged, she wrapped her lips around him, sinking lower, her tongue swirling as she tried to take more of him into her mouth. He was thick, stretching her jaw, but the weight of him, the way he gasped her name, sent a fresh wave of arousal through her.
She bobbed her head slowly, finding a rhythm, her hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach. Jongho’s hips twitched despite himself, his thighs trembling.
“You’re—shit—you’re too good at this,” he groaned, his voice cracking. His hand threaded into her hair, not pushing, just holding, grounding himself.
She moaned softly around him, and the vibration made him choke on a curse.
After a few more minutes, he pulled back suddenly, breathless, his chest heaving. “Stop, stop—I’ll come, and I want—” He broke off, his face contorted with restraint. “I want to make you feel good too.”
Before she could respond, he slid down her body, tugging her leggings and underwear off in one motion. She yelped, trying to cover herself, but he caught her wrists gently, his eyes locking with hers.
“Don’t hide,” he murmured again, firmer this time. “Not from me.”
Then he lowered his head.
The first brush of his tongue against her folds made her arch off the couch with a gasp. “J-Jongho—!”
He groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her as he licked deeper, slower, like he was savoring her. His hands gripped her thighs firmly, keeping her open for him, and his tongue traced every inch until she was trembling, wet and desperate.
Her hand flew to his hair, tangling in the strands as helpless moans spilled from her lips. “Oh god, don’t stop—please—”
He hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her as he focused on her clit, sucking gently until her vision blurred.
The pleasure built fast, sharp and hot, until it broke over her in waves. She cried out, her body convulsing, her thighs clamping around his head, but he didn’t let go until she was shaking, whimpering from the intensity.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were slick, his eyes dark with hunger. He kissed her knee, her thigh, slowly working his way back up her body.
“You taste so good,” he murmured against her skin.
She pulled him up to her, kissing him messily, tasting herself on his mouth, her body still trembling.
Jongho kissed her deeply, his weight pressing her into the couch cushions, his chest warm and solid against hers. The taste of him and herself on his lips made her head spin, the aftershocks of her orgasm still buzzing through her limbs.
He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers. His breath came ragged, his eyes dark and uncertain for the first time that night.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, “I’ve never… done this before. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her heart clenched, her body aching with the need for him, but the tenderness in his words nearly undid her. She cupped his face with both hands, her thumbs stroking his burning cheeks.
“I know,” she whispered. “Me neither. But… I want this. With you.”
His chest heaved, the tension in his muscles trembling under her touch. For a moment, he just looked at her, like he was memorizing every detail of her face. Then he kissed her again, softer this time, reverent.
“I’ll go slow,” he promised.
He reached for his wallet on the coffee table, fumbling until he pulled out a condom. His ears burned red as he tore the wrapper with shaking hands. She touched his wrist gently, grounding him, and he glanced up at her with a nervous, almost boyish smile.
“You’re shaking,” she teased softly, though her own heart was hammering.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted, his voice low.
“You won’t,” she said, kissing him again. “It’s us. It’ll be okay.”
He nodded, rolling the condom on before settling between her thighs. His hand slid up her side, over her breast, until it rested near her face, bracing his weight. The other hand laced with hers, their fingers squeezing tight.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice breaking just slightly.
She swallowed hard, her body trembling with nerves and anticipation. “Yes.”
The first push was slow, careful. The stretch burned, foreign, and she gasped, her nails digging into his back.
“Fuck,” Jongho groaned, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, his entire body rigid with restraint. “You’re so tight—tell me if it’s too much.”
She clenched her jaw, breathing through it, forcing her body to relax. He peppered her neck with kisses, murmuring soft reassurances.
After a moment, the sting eased, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that made her shudder.
“Okay,” she whispered. “You can move.”
He nodded, pressing a shaky kiss to her collarbone before pulling back slowly and pushing in again.
The rhythm started tentative, uneven, both of them adjusting. Each movement drew soft gasps from her, low groans from him. The way his brows furrowed in concentration, the way his lips trembled with every exhale, made her chest ache with affection.
Then he found a rhythm, slow but deeper, and the pleasure began to bloom.
Her moans grew louder, her body arching into his. “Jongho…”
“Y/N,” he rasped, his hand squeezing hers tighter. “You feel so good—fuck, I can’t—”
His control wavered, his thrusts growing steadier, deeper, his jaw clenched as if holding himself back from completely losing it. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, wet and desperate.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and his groan broke into a curse. His lips crashed against hers, swallowing her cries, their tongues tangling in messy, breathless kisses.
Every push sent sparks through her body, building higher and higher.
“I’m close,” she gasped against his mouth.
“Me too,” he admitted, his voice raw.
He shifted, his thumb brushing down to circle her clit, clumsy but eager, and that was enough to push her over. She cried out, her body trembling violently as the orgasm ripped through her, her walls clenching tight around him.
Jongho cursed loudly, his rhythm faltering before he buried himself deep, groaning her name as he came, his body shuddering against hers.
They collapsed together, breathless and trembling. Jongho shifted carefully, pulling out and disposing of the condom before gathering her into his arms on the couch.
For a while, they just lay there, tangled and sweaty, their hearts racing in sync. His hand stroked her hair gently, his lips pressing soft kisses to her forehead.
“You okay?” he whispered.
Y/N nodded against his chest, a small, exhausted smile tugging at her lips. “Better than okay.“
He let out a shaky laugh, pressing his face into her hair. “God, I thought I was going to screw that up so badly.”
She tilted her head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You didn’t. You were perfect.”
His arms tightened around her, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re mine,” he murmured again, his voice barely audible.
And as she drifted off in his arms, Y/N knew — with a certainty that left no room for doubt — that this wasn’t casual.
It was real.
It was everything.
The world outside was quiet, muted by early morning.
On the couch, wrapped under the blanket they’d pulled over themselves hours ago, Y/N stirred awake to the steady beat of Jongho’s heart beneath her ear. His arm was draped around her waist, holding her close, his breath warm in her hair.
For a moment, she just lay there, listening, trying to memorize it — the safety, the comfort, the way she fit perfectly against him.
Then his lips brushed the crown of her head. Soft. Gentle.
She tilted her face up, and he smiled down at her, eyes half-lidded from sleep, hair mussed adorably. Before she could say anything, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss.
And another.
And another.
“Mm,” he hummed, satisfied, before kissing her again, longer this time.
Y/N laughed softly, swatting at his chest. “You’re insatiable.”
“Probably,” he admitted without shame, kissing her nose.
She melted, her heart aching in the best way.
They lay like that for a while, stealing kisses, exchanging lazy touches. His hand traced patterns over her arm, her back, sometimes settling at her waist to pull her even closer. Every brush of his lips made her want more, the warmth of his body sparking a familiar heat low in her stomach.
When their mouths met again, the kiss deepened naturally, tongues sliding together, breaths mingling faster.
Y/N whimpered softly, clutching his shirt. “Jongho…”
His forehead pressed to hers, his breathing ragged. “Yeah?”
Her cheeks burned, but she forced the words out anyway. “Do you… want to do it again?”
For a heartbeat, his eyes darkened, his jaw tightening.
Then, without a word, he scooped her up into his arms.
Y/N squealed, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. “Jongho! Put me down, I’m heavy—”
He laughed, the sound low and warm, vibrating against her chest. “Y/N. I lift weights heavier than you every day.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned down to kiss her passionately, walking steadily toward her bedroom.
Her protest melted into a breathless moan as his mouth claimed hers, the sheer strength of him carrying her as if she weighed nothing.
By the time her back hit the mattress, her heart was racing, her body already burning with anticipation. Jongho hovered over her, his lips swollen, his breath shaky, but his eyes — his eyes were steady, full of heat and something deeper.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he murmured, before kissing her again.
And Y/N knew they weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon.
By the time Jongho slipped back into the dorm the next morning, the sun was already up. He’d showered at Y/N’s place, borrowed one of her clean hoodies, and left reluctantly after one last lingering kiss at her door. His chest still ached with the weight of it all — in the best way.
When he opened the door, the living room was alive with noise.
“Maknae finally returns!” Wooyoung shouted, leaping over the back of the couch like he’d been waiting all night for this moment.
San sat cross-legged on the rug, a bowl of cereal in his lap, smirking. “Look at him. He didn’t come home after his shift. Wonder why?”
Mingi gasped dramatically, pointing. “That’s not his hoodie. That’s not his hoodie at all.”
“Caught red-handed,” Yeosang said dryly, flipping a page of his book without looking up.
Even Yunho, usually calmer, raised an eyebrow over his coffee mug. “Morning, lover boy.”
Jongho sighed, shutting the door behind him. “You’re all loud.”
“That’s not a denial,” Wooyoung sang, following him into the kitchen. “So, are you gonna tell us, or do we have to drag it out of you?”
Jongho ignored him, setting a glass on the counter, but his ears betrayed him — burning red.
San leaned back on his hands, grinning. “He’s glowing. Look at him. I’ve never seen him look like this after a shift.”
“Glowing?” Hongjoong finally spoke up from the armchair, amusement flickering across his face. “That’s a strong word.”
“It’s true!” Wooyoung insisted, circling Jongho like a shark. “Maknae’s glowing. And he’s not denying it. Which means—” He stopped suddenly, eyes wide, pointing a dramatic finger. “You finally confessed, didn’t you?”
Jongho paused, glass halfway to his lips.
That was all it took.
The room exploded.
“You did!”
“Oh my god, finally!”
“Spill it, what happened?”
“Wait, wait, does this mean—”
Jongho set the glass down slowly, his expression steady despite the redness climbing to his ears. “We’re together now.”
The dorm erupted again.
San whooped, pumping his fist in the air. Mingi collapsed onto the couch like he’d just witnessed history. Wooyoung nearly toppled over in his excitement, smacking Jongho’s arm repeatedly.
“Finally!” Wooyoung crowed. “Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? I thought I was going to die of secondhand tension!”
Yunho smiled into his coffee, shaking his head. “Good for you, Jongho.”
Even Yeosang glanced up from his book, lips quirking just slightly. “About time.”
Hongjoong chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you both.”
Jongho tried to keep his face neutral, but he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. The noise, the teasing — none of it mattered. All he could think about was the way Y/N had looked curled up in his arms that morning, sleepy and soft, whispering that she liked him too.
„I am happy,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “Really happy.”
For a rare moment, the others fell silent, watching him. Then Wooyoung let out a dramatic sniff, wiping at his eyes. “Our maknae’s growing up so fast.”
“Shut up,” Jongho muttered, shoving him lightly.
But his smile lingered, impossible to hide.
Y/N didn’t even get a chance to sit down before Mina and Hyejin descended on her apartment.
“Open up, it’s urgent!” Mina’s voice rang through the door, followed by impatient knocking.
Y/N groaned, tugging the blanket tighter around herself before unlocking the door. The second it opened, both girls pushed past her, carrying iced coffees and the unmistakable air of gossip-hungry wolves.
“Good morning to you too,” Y/N muttered, shutting the door.
“Morning?” Hyejin gasped, eyes widening. “It’s nearly noon. And you are still in a hoodie that is definitely not yours.”
Mina’s gaze zeroed in instantly. She gasped dramatically, clutching Y/N’s arm. “Oh my god. Oh my god, is that his?”
Y/N flushed scarlet. “I—”
“You didn’t come home last night,” Hyejin cut in, narrowing her eyes like a detective. “You left with him, you were wearing his hoodie then, and you’re wearing it now. Y/N. Spill. Immediately.”
Y/N stammered, tugging at the hem of the hoodie as if it could swallow her whole. “We… we’re together now.”
Silence.
Then chaos.
Mina screamed, dropping her coffee onto the counter. Hyejin shrieked, grabbing Y/N by the shoulders and shaking her. “Together?! As in boyfriend-girlfriend?!”
Both of them collapsed onto the couch, fanning themselves like they’d run a marathon
“I knew it!” Mina cried. “I told you he liked you! Didn’t I say? I said he was into you!”
“You did,” Hyejin admitted, her grin stretching impossibly wide. “And I told you to stop doubting yourself, didn’t I? Look at you now!”
Y/N pressed her hands to her burning face, half-laughing, half-ready to crawl under the floorboards. “Can you both calm down, please?”
“Calm down?!” Mina shrieked. “Our best friend just landed the hottest guy at her gym, who also happens to be the sweetest man alive, and you want us to calm down?!”
Y/N buried her face in a pillow. “You two are worse than his friends.”
They didn’t let her off easy.
For the next hour, she was subjected to endless questions.
“When did he confess?”
“What did he say?“
“Did you kiss? How many times?!”
“Was it good?”
“Was it… really good?”
Y/N stammered through answers, her face on fire. The more she tried to keep it vague, the more relentless they became.
Finally, Mina gasped, eyes going wide with realization. “Wait. You slept with him.”
Y/N froze.
The silence lasted all of two seconds before both girls screamed again, loud enough to rattle the windows.
“YOU DID!” Hyejin shrieked, covering her mouth with both hands.
Mina grabbed Y/N’s arm, shaking her. “Was it good?! Tell us it was good!”
Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “You two are impossible.”
But the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
And for once, she didn’t care that they saw it.
Two months later.
Y/N stood in front of her parents’ house, her hand clasped tightly in Jongho’s. The familiar knot of nerves churned in her stomach, even though she told herself things were different now. Better now.
She’d snapped the last time she was here — told them how their comments about her body, their “helpful” remarks, had cut her down for years. She’d walked out shaking, furious, exhausted.
And to her surprise, they’d listened.
Since then, her mother had called several times, apologizing, telling her she hadn’t realized how much she’d hurt her. Her dad had written a long text, clumsy but sincere.
And now, they wanted to meet Jongho.
Her boyfriend.
The word still sent a thrill through her.
“You’re overthinking,” Jongho murmured, squeezing her hand. He looked infuriatingly calm, dressed in a simple button-up and slacks, his expression steady as ever.
“I’m not,” she lied.
His lips curved faintly. “You are. I can practically hear your thoughts from here.”
She huffed, glaring at him — but his thumb brushed over her knuckles, soothing her.
“They’re your family,” he said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Her chest ached at the certainty in his voice. She nodded, taking a deep breath, and finally opened the door.
Her mother was the first to greet them, rushing forward with wide eyes and an almost giddy smile.
“Y/N! Jongho! Come in, come in.”
Y/N blinked. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had looked so… openly happy.
“Hello, Mrs. Kim” Jongho said politely, bowing slightly.
“Oh, none of that,” her mom said, flapping a hand. “Call me Mom.”
Y/N nearly choked, her cheeks flaming. “M-Mom—”
Her mother ignored her, ushering them into the dining room. The table was already set, a spread of food that smelled warm and comforting. Her dad and siblings looked up, offering tentative smiles.
“Hi,” Y/N said, her voice wavering.
Her dad cleared his throat. “We’re glad you’re here.” His gaze flicked to Jongho. “And glad to meet you, Jongho.”
Jongho nodded respectfully, his hand still steady in Y/N’s. “Thank you for having me.”
Dinner began cautiously. Y/N’s family asked Jongho questions about his studies, his work at the gym, his plans for the future. He answered calmly, politely, his voice even. Every time Y/N’s nerves spiked, he squeezed her hand under the table, grounding her.
Then, halfway through the meal, her mom set her fork down.
“Y/N,” she said softly.
Y/N’s chest tightened. “Yes?”
“I need to say this again. I’m sorry.” Her mom’s eyes shone with regret. “For all the things I said before. About your weight, your body. I thought I was helping, but I see now that I wasn’t. I hurt you, and I hate that I did.”
Y/N’s throat closed up.
Her mother reached across the table, her hand trembling slightly. “I’m just so happy to see you smiling. To see you with someone who clearly cares for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted — for you to be loved and happy. And if Jongho is the one making you feel that way, then I couldn’t ask for more.”
Y/N’s eyes stung. She blinked rapidly, squeezing Jongho’s hand tight under the table.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
Her mom smiled, relief softening her face.
Jongho glanced at Y/N then, his expression unreadable to anyone else, but she knew him well enough now to see the pride in his eyes. The quiet promise: I told you. It’s different now.
And for the first time in years, Y/N let herself believe it.
The dinner ended with hugs and leftovers pressed into their hands, Y/N’s mother fussing over Jongho like she’d known him for years. By the time they stepped outside, the sky was dark, the air cool and still.
Y/N let out a shaky laugh, clutching the container of food. “That was… better than I thought it would be.”
Jongho smiled faintly, slipping his hand into hers. “Told you.”
She squeezed his fingers, her chest still tight from her mom’s apology. For the first time, she felt lighter walking away from that house. Not weighed down. Not braced for the next hurtful comment. Just… lighter.
They stopped by the gate, the warm glow of the porch light behind them. Jongho turned to her, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I meant what I told them. About being happy to be with you.”
Her heart flipped. “I know.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and deliberate. His gaze held hers, steady and unwavering. “But it’s more than that.”
Her breath caught.
“I love you, Y/N.“
The words fell between them, simple but heavy, filled with everything he couldn’t put into actions alone. He didn’t look away, didn’t flinch, even as his ears turned red.
Y/N’s chest ached, her throat tight with emotion. For a second, all she could do was stare, stunned.
Then she smiled — shaky, teary, but real. “I love you too.”
Jongho’s breath hitched, relief flashing across his face before he leaned in and kissed her. Slow, lingering, his hand cupping her cheek as if she might vanish if he let go.
When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, both smiling helplessly.
“Come on,” Y/N whispered, her cheeks still hot. “Our friends are waiting.”
Jongho chuckled softly, kissing her once more before they started down the street, hand in hand, heading toward the warmth and chaos of their other family — the one they’d chosen.
The café was already buzzing when Y/N and Jongho walked in. It wasn’t fancy, just a cozy spot near campus with big wooden tables, but the laughter from the back corner made it clear they’d found the right table.
“Over here!” Mina waved dramatically, nearly hitting Hyejin with her iced latte.
At the table, Wooyoung was mid-story, San was stealing fries, and Seonghwa sat with calm patience, quietly sipping tea while clearly listening to everyone at once. Mingi’s booming laugh carried across the room, and Yunho was leaning forward to keep Hyejin engaged in conversation.
When Jongho and Y/N approached, the noise shifted instantly.
“Our lovebirds!” Wooyoung crowed.
San smirked, “Finally decided to show up.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, cheeks warming as Jongho’s hand pressed to the small of her back, guiding her into a seat. He sat beside her, his arm naturally settling along the back of her chair
The table buzzed with energy. Mina and Wooyoung were already bickering over karaoke rankings. Hyejin laughed at Mingi’s dramatic retelling of a gym mishap, while Yeosang’s dry interjections only made it funnier. Seonghwa offered quiet but sharp comments that made even Hongjoong laugh, like an older brother enjoying the chaos from the sidelines.
Y/N felt her shoulders loosening as the two groups blended seamlessly.
“So,” Yunho said suddenly, his eyes glinting with curiosity, “how are the two of you holding up after, you know…” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically.
The boys all snickered, and Mina practically squealed, leaning over to Y/N. “He told us. The whole thing. You should’ve seen him — ears bright red, but smiling like an idiot.”
Y/N turned her head to look at Jongho, who stared down at his drink as if it could save him. His ears betrayed him, glowing crimson.
Seonghwa chuckled softly. “Maknae’s never looked this embarrassed in his life.”
Jongho groaned, muttering, “You’re all unbearable.”
The teasing softened into easy conversation. Mina and Wooyoung’s back-and-forth turned into loud laughter. Hyejin found herself listening with amusement as Seonghwa calmly explained something about his studies, while San tried to rope Mingi into a game on his phone.
Y/N watched it all, her heart full. This strange mix of people — her friends and his — fit together like they’d always belonged at the same table.
At one point, when the laughter lulled, Jongho leaned close, his voice low for her alone.
“You okay?”
She nodded, smiling softly. “More than okay.”
His thumb brushed her shoulder as if he couldn’t stop touching her. “Good.”
The night ended in a blur of promises to meet again soon — Mina already planning karaoke battles, Wooyoung vowing to win, Seonghwa gently steering the group out before they could start another round.
As Y/N and Jongho walked hand in hand into the cool night air, she glanced back at the crowd of their friends spilling onto the street, still laughing and bickering like one big family.
She turned to Jongho, who met her gaze with that quiet, steady smile of his — the one that always melted her doubts.
And in that moment, surrounded by love, she knew she belonged.
Lately, nothing makes sense. There can't be a Hong Hee-ju I don't know about. I need to find out which one is the real one. Right now, you're my only lead.
warnings: MDNI, sex, toys, mentions of kinks and BDSM, vaginal penetration, spanking
A/N: one of the many ideas in my inbox, courtesy of @lost-before-the-dawn . Hope you like it!
.ೃ࿔*:･LaDS men and their favorite toys...
.ೃ࿔*:･Zayne:
The Satisfyer - The little head fits perfectly around your clit. It’s also programmable so he can create his own vibe patterns and control it from his phone. Perfect to keep you on your toes, or for those long night shifts when he can’t be there. The suction mimics a mouth on you and nothing gets him harder knowing you’re imagining and waiting for his while he teases you.
.ೃ࿔*:･Sylus:
Blindfold and silk restraints - Sensory deprivation turns him on. To have you at his mercy and unable to do anything about it. You’re helpless as you feel every lick, tickle and caress, your body writhing and squirming as he has his way with you. The fact that you can’t see him is the icing on the cake, your body hot and sensitive as you try to figure out where he’ll go next.
.ೃ࿔*:･Caleb:
Riding crop - The man loves disciplining you. It’s his fault for creating a brat, so now he’s taking the responsibility for his actions. He loves hearing your whimpering little ‘sorries’ as the riding crop leaves red marks over those pretty, jiggling ass cheeks as you beg for pity. Then, after they’re sore and sensitive, the joy of parting them as he sinks into your cunt. Bliss.
.ೃ࿔*:･Xavier:
Clamps and a spreader bar - Kinky, kinky, Xavier. He loves you helpless and unable to close your legs. Pain and pleasure are served as a perfectly balanced combination with this man. The twinge of the clamp on your nipples as you lie helplessly on your back while he plays with your clit is addictive. Some days, it’s your poor little clit that’s clamped, and Xavier sits back and watches as your pathetic little hip jerks do all the work for him.
.ೃ࿔*:･Rafayel:
Ben Wa balls - They’re discreet and fun. Rafayel spends hours painting in the studio, so the balls allow for immediate fun when he’s free. Who wouldn’t be wet and needy after walking around all day with those balls rolling so teasingly and heavily inside your pussy, your walls clenching to hold them in as you went about your day as best as you could? All he has to do is simply slide them out and replace them with his cock.
⤷How they react when you squirt for the first time
Caleb
You soak him mid-thrust—your slick gushing out suddenly, dripping between your thighs and down his stomach. Caleb stills for a moment, eyes locked on the mess pooling beneath you both, then lets out a sharp exhale like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Holy fuck… you just squirted all over my cock.” His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts up—deep and rough, chasing it again. "That’s it, baby. Make a mess. I want you to keep doing that—over and over until the whole bed’s drenched.” He thumbs your clit while he pounds into you, voice tight and desperate. “You can’t even stop now, can you? Look at you—so fucked out, still leaking. That’s mine. All of it. ”You squirt out suddenly around his fingers and he freezes, eyes locked between your legs, watching the flood of slick that coats his palm and thighs.
Rafayel
Then he smiles. Slowly. Darkly. “You’ve been holding out on me.” He pushes two fingers back in without warning, pressing against that same spongy spot, curling just right—and when you jolt from overstimulation, he laughs softly, voice syrup-smooth. “Aww, what’s wrong? Too much now?” “No, no. You’re not tapping out yet. Not when I just got to the good part.” He leans close, his forehead resting against yours as he whispers: “Be a good girl and squirt again for me. I want this whole room smelling like you.”
Xavier
You squirt mid-ride, and his entire body jerks—like it physically startled him, only to be followed by the dirtiest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “No fuckin’ way. You just made a goddamn mess.” He grabs your waist and starts fucking up into you from below, rough, wet slaps echoing in the room.“Soaked me, baby. Look at you—dripping, shaking, moaning like a fuckin’ pornstar.” He thumbs your clit with no mercy, lips brushing your ear: “We’re not done. I’m not stopping until you squirt again. And again. Let’s see how wrecked I can get you.”
Sylus
You squirt across his face the moment his tongue flattens against your clit, and he moans, messy and loud, as your slick covers his chin, lips, even his neck. He doesn’t move away. If anything, he grips your thighs tighter, licking through the mess like it’s his last meal. “Ohh, fuck yes… that’s it, pretty girl.” “So wet for me. You gonna do it again while I’m sucking on this sweet little pussy? ”He sucks your clit harder, tongue dragging in tight circles, fingers fucking into you from below. You’re twitching, whimpering—and he’s groaning like he’s in heaven. “C’mon, give it to me again. I wanna drown in it.”
Zayne
Your thighs jerk, body tight, and then your slick gushes out—warm and sudden, drenching his wrist and soaking the sheets beneath you. For a moment, Zayne goes still. His gaze drops to where his fingers are buried inside you, now coated and dripping. The soft sound of your breathing fills the room, ragged and ruined. He doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t flinch. He just stares, almost fascinated. “You lost control,” he murmurs. “Completely.” He slowly withdraws his hand, watching the slick stretch between your folds and his fingers. A quiet pause. Then he drags his fingers across your inner thigh, spreading the mess without a hint of shame, eyes never leaving your face. “So reactive. And yet you haven’t even reached your limits.” He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting you with clinical slowness—not for show, but to commit the moment to memory. Then, without warning, he slides two fingers back in, deeper this time, curling with meticulous precision. “You’re going to do that again.” “I’ll make sure of it. His voice stays soft, composed—but the weight behind it is devastating. “Don’t hold back. I want everything.”
bigbro!caleb loves you a lot but, in a very different way | PT.1
cw. pseudo-incest, suggestive/nsfw, dubcon, gege/meimei/bro/sis/pipsqueak terms used, gege is manipulative, slight cunnilingus, VIRGIN! CALEB SUPREMACY, both have their first times, smut in another part lol, no proofread
a/n. im a huuuuge gege enthusiast! so pls dni if ur not into that
caleb doesn’t know when it all started.
actually, that’s a lie. he knows exactly when and how everything started. he just pretends not to know for his sanity.
what exactly is ‘everything’? well, his little meimei, would be his everything. from the fluffy hair that dance above your adorable eyes to the pretty skirts you squirm around in that hide your lovely thighs. and more specifically, what's between those thighs.
caleb can admit that his meimei is pretty, very pretty. too pretty for her own good. but it had always been in an innocent type of way. until one day when the two of them were in the kitchen.
caleb had accidentally dropped a spoon and you, being the kind person that you are, moved to pick it up. but that day, his meimei was wearing a short white skirt that barely covered anything, that when you bent down your gege had the perfect view of your ass. as well as the thin pink panties that were basically transparent and did nothing to hide the pussy underneath it.
caleb thought he had been sly about it until you asked why his face was all red. he blamed it on the food they were cooking and the hot weather outside. but the rest of the day your gege couldn't stop thinking about it. even pleasured himself to the thought later that night.
it was wrong. wrong to think about his sweet baby sis like this. so he just ignored it, hoping that he'd forget about it in a few days. but he didn't. not only did he have his mind fixated on what your pussy felt like and even tasted like, more incidents began happening. from your shirt lifting to reveal the softest looking boobs and blushing nipples, to the way your ass would feel against gege's cock when you would be accidentally pressed up against him. it was beginning to become a very big problem.
finally, caleb decided that he just couldn't take it any longer and needed his hands all over his little meimei. looking for a way for this to happen.
one day, it was easily presented to him that he had to question how he got this lucky. it all began when he was sitting on the couch of their shared apartment. him and you had moved out and away from grandma for the fleet. yet, because of this fact caleb had sort of taken full actual responsibility of you. always telling you that “gege will be here” and he always was! helping you whenever you needed (which was quite a lot) and listening to your girly and non-girly problems like a normal good older brother would.
this was normal.
until one of your problems included something that caleb had never tackled before. a problem that required him to look between your legs.
“ge-gegeee!”
your gege hummed as he managed his plane models, seeing through his peripheral vision that you were standing near him fiddling nervously. “i, uhm, n-need help with something...” he glances up after sensing his meimei's distress, bringing his full attention on you now. “yeah, pips?”
you play with the hem of the huge hoodie of your gege's. biting your lower lip and looking off to the side. caleb waits patiently, knowing that you need your time when you ask about things you're nervous about. “m-my, uhh.. va-vagina i-is-” you barely whisper, the sound not carrying far enough to reach caleb's ears. your cheeks are now ablaze with pink.
“pips, don't worry. whatever it is i won't judge, aight? gege’s got you.” caleb now stands, taking your small hand in his own big one and guiding you to the couch so you're levelled. once seated, he gives you a handsome reliable grin to signal for you to continue.“i-it's... like, t-tingling..? i-i don't know gege!” you let out an exasperated groan before hiding your face in your hands .“It's just! for the past few days it's been tingling or something-g, and even getting wet! it stains m-my panties and—arrrgh! i-i don't know what to do gege..!”
the dam breaks as you let out your troubles, just wanting to get rid of them. caleb on the other hand, starts to sweat. he has taken many other questioning problems his little sis has given to him but this was just... different. and yet, something tells him that he already knows the problem, and this is the perfect opening for his master plan.“oh...”
you hang your head in shame as you rethink the words you spilt out. beginning to apologize and leave when your gege suddenly stops you. “wait! pips, i-i'm sorry, i didn’t mean to sound like that...” caleb gently takes your other hand. “i'll help. i want to. gege will do it.” he gives you another reassuring smile along with a small squeeze to your hands. you start looking away as the pink that decorates your face darkens to red.
It's cute.
nevertheless, seeing his lil sis like this makes caleb unhappy. so, ignoring morals and reasoning that they are the only ones in the apartment, he asks you to spread your legs. they're just like siblings, right?
“g-gege?”
“don't worry, i'm... i'm gonna help you, alright?” he gets off the couch and kneels between your legs, waiting for them to open. glancing up and sees his meimei staring down at him with her huge adorable eyes.“you trust gege?” you look to the side, biting down on your tinted lips as your legs relax. slowly you give a nod, the bangs on your head bouncing as you do. and with that, you agonizingly spread your legs. caleb guides you after he makes a start by gently grabbing onto your knees and helping to push them further apart. he leans closer and rests a hand on your inner thigh. your cunt is still covered by your hoodie and you seem to notice this. so you lift a weary hand and cautiously slide the fabric up. caleb's heart beats faster, your hands starting to become clammy as inch by inch more pretty skin is shown until a pretty red-coloured panty is shown, mimicking the colour of your cheeks. and caleb's.
your gege stares. a lot longer than he should. but he can't help it. not with how he can see your fat clit poking out against the fabric. your pussy lips almost spilling out as well. he can see a dark wet patch that had formed, probably from what you had mentioned.
“g-gege...”
the older shushes you, his hand unconsciously rubbing your thigh from excitement. but he masks it behind assurance. “shhh, everything will be alright...” you clutch onto your now-taken off hoodie, your breath hitching as caleb moves closer between your legs. “i’m going to take off your panties now, okay?” you silently nod, shutting your eyes as well. caleb hooks his fingers on the waistband of your underwear, sliding it down slowly and watching as the flaps stick to your pussy from the slick. when it's finally off he puts the panty off to the side with one hand still massaging near the cunt. and it's even prettier than he imagined.
without a thin cloth to hide it, you gege fully admires the pussy, the organ getting more wet from his intense stares. lifting a finger and gently toying with the lips. stretching and spreading them as you whine.“gege, i-it feels weird...” caleb hums, still playing with your cunt and too busy to directly say anything to his meimei. just then, he reaches your plumpy clit. he presses down on it in curiosity, which causes you to jump and instinctively close your thighs. caleb silently snickers at your reaction, finding that a bit cute too. he goes back to his teasing and spreads your pussy lips, watching as more slick oozes out. you whine in embarrassment as your thighs quiver.“d-do you see a-anything wrong?” your gege sighs. “mm, not yet. i think i'll have to feel around inside first... is that okay pipsqueak?” as he speaks he runs his finger through your slit, giving his meimei an innocent look which contrasts the situation. still, you shut your eyes again and nod, bringing your hands to your face to hide from caleb's stare.
caleb inwardly smirks to himself. pushing in his now slicked finger and feeling the tight walls squeeze around him. it just feels too good to have only one in there. so he pushes in another finger, relishing in your virgin hole and using his other hand to caress your thighs. he made sure nobody lurks around that pretty cunt. not when he's here. you and him, both will have eachother first. and hopefully you'll choose him at the last too. just like he will choose you.
ever since the words, “can we try without one this time?”, slipped from your mouth after caleb reached for his nightstand to grab a condom, he hasn’t looked back. the mere thought of being able to stuff you full of his cock, while feeling every inch of your sensitive walls nearly had him cumming right then and there.
he’s so much more desperate than before, deliciously dragging his cock against your walls, fucking you harder as he grips your hips so tight, no doubt they’ll be a little sore by the morning. whispering sweet nothings that you can barely decipher. just so eager to chase that release. praying to the gods that you’ll let him breed you… you will, right?
caleb’s a mess, pussy drunk. reveling in the way your walls flutter around him, sucking him in. mouth falling open as he listens to the even louder, lewd sounds coming from your cunt. his gaze travels to where the two of you meet, slick connecting you both every time he nearly pulls out, leaving his fat tip inside you before slamming back in. knocking your body upwards at the force as a sinful moan spills out of you.
“so close.. let me cum inside, please. fuck- can i?” he pants, stuttering when your gummy walls squeeze around him, so tight, creaming all over his cock.
he’s been waiting so long for this moment, hasn’t he? always having to hold himself back whenever he finds himself putting on the flimsy piece of rubber, worried he’ll step over the line if he asks to fuck you without one. mind crowded with scenes of his warm cum leaking from your cunt, as he makes do with his own hand stroking his length. wishing his seed filled you up instead of going to waste, spilling all over his hand and abdomen.
you nod urgently, a string of “pleasepleaseplease” leaving your lips before morphing into one long whine that spurs caleb on just enough to bring him over the edge. he falls apart with one hard thrust, as deep as he’ll go, shooting his cum inside, painting your walls white. filling you to the brim, mixing his arousal with yours as you cream all over him.
he doesn’t even want to pull out, begging you to stay buried just a little longer. keeping you stuffed until he can’t resist rutting into you again.
