synopsis: Haechan would much rather spend his birthday at home, gaming with his friends. A simple night to celebrate. However, fate and Na Jaemin have other plans. He’s dragged out to a bar against his will. But, when he meets you, Haechan decides this is his favorite birthday yet.
fluff & smut, 5.7k wc
warnings: non-idol!au, fluff.reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan is referred to as donghyuck, Dreamies are annoying LMAO, smut, terrible writing, technically unprotected sex (no mention of condom or birth control), alcohol, getting drunk, bar scene, swearing. i think that’s all? Please let me know if I missed anything
a/n: Happy birthday to my favorite boy ever. Happy Hae Day!!!!!!! This is based on the lyrics of drop dead by Olivia Rodrigo. I’ve been loving this song so much and with Haechan’s birthday coming up, I wanted to combine the two. This is very rushed (life’s always busy) but I tried my best!! If you see any mistakes, I’m sorry in advance. This is also my first time posting smut SO PLEASE BE NICE THANK YOUUUUU that’s all. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy 🤍
Donghyuck had a plan. On June 6th, he would sleep in, lounge around all day, have his brothers over, order delivery, and then game the whole night. Cake too, if he remembers.
Na Jaemin has a different plan.
A plan that Donghyuck is unaware of until now.
The birthday boy’s original plans had gone accordingly throughout the day. He woke up at a time far past morning and continued to stay in bed even later. Any other weekend, he’d have plans, appointments, places to be, but today is his day. No one and nothing to answer to unless he wills it.
Donghyuck smiles when he hears the doorbell ring- those would be his brothers, friends he’d known for the better part of a decade, the only people he wants to spend his birthday with.
He strolls up lazily to his front door, phone already open to a food delivery app.
However. When Donghyuck opens the door and sees Na Jaemin’s big smile, he feels his heart drop, dread washing over him.
He knows something is wrong when he steps back and really observes his friends.
Why is Renjun wearing his clubbing boots? Why are Jisung and Chenle holding two six packs of beer? Why is Jeno avoiding his gaze? Why is Mark wearing his good leather jacket? And, why is Jaemin looking at him with the most shit-eating grin he’s ever seen?
“What are you wearing?” Donghyuck starts, eyebrows raised so far you might think they’ll float off his face.
Jaemin claps back immediately, “What are you wearing?”
Donghyuck looks down at the sweatpants and old t-shirt he’s currently adorned in.
“I’m wearing clothes appropriate for a nice night in of pizza and gaming. Why the hell are you all dressed like that?”
Jaemin hums and they all push past the birthday boy, stepping into the apartment like they own it.
(With how much they stay over, they basically do at this point.)
The sound of the front door closing shocks Donghyuck out of his astonishment and he follows his friends into the kitchen.
“We’re going out. Tonight.” Jaemin says like it’s obvious. The friends work quickly around the space, pulling out glasses and bottle openers.
“No we’re not.” Donghyuck says sternly.
“I assure you, we are.” Jeno speaks up with a sigh, against the idea of going out in the first place but what Jaemin, Renjun, and Chenle want- they get.
“I’m sorry?” Donghyuck says, growing more frustrated by the minute. “Did you forget whose birthday it is today? I don’t want to go out.”
Jaemin walks over to face him directly.
“Baby,” he starts, to which Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “You only turn 26 once! You are a young, handsome bachelor. Why are you wasting your 26th birthday inside?”
Donghyuck steps back and rebuts- “It’s not a waste if it’s what I want to do.” Jaemin hums, point taken. But, he won’t give up. He refuses to let his friend stay home on his birthday.
“He’s not gonna take no for an answer, Hyuck. Let’s just go out tonight and we won’t bother you tomorrow.” Mark speaks up, snacking on some chips he found in his pantry.
The birthday boy scoffs. Closing his eyes as he weighs his options.
He wanted to celebrate with his friends. If his friends want to spend tonight at a bar, he guesses that’s okay.
Just as he’s about to surrender, Jaemin speaks up again.
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a pretty lady and she can make the whole night for you,” eyes wiggling suggestively in his Jaemin manner.
Donghyuck groans and turns to walk out of the room. “Fine. I’ll go get ready.”
He only hears the echoes of cheers as a response.
-
An hour later, Donghyuck emerges back into the kitchen. Hair slightly damp from his shower but still swept back with a light gel. A nice t-shirt compliments his frame and the leather jacket he wears on top accentuates his shoulders. Bootcut dark-wash jeans elongate his legs. Tying it all together is a pair of black boots. He looks good , even if he doesn’t feel like it.
Chenle whistles and Jaemin ‘woo-hoos’ when they see the man of the evening has returned in appropriate bar attire. Donghyuck shakes his head and reaches for a beer. God, he needs a drink.
Thankfully, they ordered pizza while he was getting ready. Eating and drinking commence while camaraderie takes place around him. He listens to Mark and Renjun have a debate about the best hotpot ingredients; he watches Jisung lose drinking games again and again to Chenle while Jeno and Jaemin (and himself) watch fondly.
The beer and pizza loosen him up a little bit and he feels better about the prospective of going out tonight. It could be fun, he supposes.
7:30 p.m. comes and the group starts getting ready to go- Chenle mentioning something about Jaehyun saving them a table.
Everyone is a little tipsy and in good spirits, even the birthday boy.
-
Soon enough, their taxi pulls up to a lively bar. Donghyuck had never been here before.
“Is this place new?” He wonders out loud.
“No,” Chenle answers for him, “But, Jaehyun recently took over the management and he really revived the place.”
Donghyuck could do nothing but agree. Groups gather at every table outside the bar, drinks on tables and in hands, cigarette smoke wafting through the warm summer air, but not enough to overwhelm you. The chatter is joyful and lively- you could tell good stories are being shared all around. Lamps extending from the brick exterior of the building give enough light to see in front of you but leave enough darkness to hide an intimate moment if you wanted to.
That thought give Donghyuck chills.
He follows his friends inside the bar, feeling relief that the good energy follows as well. The inside matches the outside, except a little louder as the chatter was now contained within four walls. Stone floors, wood paneling, tables, and chairs, warm lighting, small paintings decorating the walls- it reminds him of an English pub he visited during a boy’s trip to London a few years ago. The memory warms him inside.
Chenle finds Jaehyun soon enough. The older man’s face lights up when he sees the group has arrived. He moves from behind the bar to greet them properly.
“Donghyuck!” He shakes his hand.
“Been a while.” He replies with a smile. It has been a while since he saw his friend. Jaehyun graduated a few years before him, and post-grad life kept them busier than they anticipated.
“Happy birthday man!” Jaehyun claps him on the back affectionately. “I saved a booth for you guys.”
He leads the way and the younger men follow him like ducklings. Their table is a little tucked away from the main scene, to which Donghyuck feels a little relief- it’s just a bit quieter and it gives the group a chance to be with themselves. There’s only one other table- a high-top table where three young women sit, seemingly wrapped up in their own friendship too.
Once they get settled and order their first round of drinks, Donghyuck feels more at ease. Him and his friends carry on their own lively conversation. Sharing memories, inside jokes, teasing each other- the friendship flowed effortlessly between them. Donghyuck realizes that this is all he wanted- whether it was in his own home or in the bar, the company with him is all that matters.
He stands up to help Renjun with the next round of beers- he’s strictly prohibited from paying for any round tonight- but he’ll help carry the drinks as a thank you.
Falling into conversation with Jaehyun, Donghyuck didn’t even notice another figure appear next to him. Didn’t notice until-
“Can I get three pints of Kloud please?” A sweet voice interrupts.
Nothing could prepare Donghyuck for the vision he sets his eyes on.
Is he so far gone that he’s seeing angels now?
You lean forward on the bar with a smile that matches your sweet voice. Somehow there are stars in your eyes that compliment the flush in your cheeks.
Donghyuck can’t breathe for a second- mind and body too busy taking you in- the way you look just like heaven. The conversation with Jaehyun and the beers in front of him long forgotten.
“Are you ever gonna try anything else?” Jaehyun teases you with a playful grin, preparing your pints nevertheless.
“We know what we like, nothing wrong with that.” You play back. Your smile grows and it makes Donghyuck very nervous.
Thankfully, you hadn’t noticed the silent stranger whose eyes were glued to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he looked away for a moment. Unfortunately, the stranger’s friend behind the bar did notice Donghyuck’s sudden quietness.
When he takes your card from you, he nods his head toward the man next to you.
“It’s my good friend’s birthday tonight.”
Donghyuck looks away quickly to not be caught staring at you. He stares down an old water stain on the bar top while his cheeks fail to hide his blush.
When your eyes do land on the dark-haired boy, warmth rushes over you. In the moment, you’re keen to blame it on the alcohol.
It’s amazing how someone who looks so cool can simultaneously be so shy.
You feel endeared toward him and you’ve not yet spoken a word.
“Happy birthday.”
Your honey voice sounds like music to his ears and when he looks up to meet your gaze, an entire symphony erupts.
Are everyone’s eyes so pretty? How are you so pretty?
“Thank you.” He hopes you can feel his genuineness and when your smile grows just a bit more, he has a feeling you do.
Your eyes break away from his and move to the drinks sitting in front of him, “Surely you’re not paying for your own drinks tonight.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, “No, no. My friend would never let me pay tonight- they’d hide my wallet if they could.”
You giggle in response and he feels his confidence returning. Thank god. He’d never forgive himself if he fumbled that bad in front of you.
“You have good friends.”
“Yes, I do.” He agrees. You two then fall into easy conversation, how you each know Jaehyun, your jobs, where you’re from, your current neighborhood- not the most exciting conversations but Donghyuck makes it fun anyway.
Pints and beers long forgotten in front of you, swept up in the company beside you.
“I just moved a few months-“
“Donghyuck-ah!” comes the booming voice of Zhong Chenle. The man in question flinches, praying to any god listening that this younger brother won’t embarrass him.
“Why are you taking so long? The beer must be- oh.” Chenle stops his complaint as soon as he sees what- rather who- has kept Donghyuck from returning to their table. A teasing smile immediately appears on his face as he glances between you two. Donghyuck adorns a tight lipped smile while you smile as if you’re not bothered at all. Matter of fact, you’re curious about Donghyuck’s friend.
“I see.” Chenle says, mostly to himself. It’s taking every thing in him not burst into giggles.
“I’m sorry I kept your friend and your beers.” You shoot Chenle a smile, but the playful glint in your eyes tells everyone that you’re not really sorry.
“No, no. Not a problem at all.” He says, big goofy grin on his face. “I’m Chenle.” He holds his hand out, which you shake. Irritation grows in Donghyuck’s chest. He was perfectly content getting to know you within your own bubble.
“I’ve heard.” You grin, turning back to the handsome boy whose cheeks are flushed once again.
“You know he didn’t even want to come out tonight.” Chenle starts; he can’t help but being a shit-stirrer, even on his friend’s birthday.
You feign shock before sending Donghyuck a sweet smile. “Well, I’m very happy you did.”
“Me too.” He admits. Chenle grabs the beers and leaves the two of you, alone once again.
Just as you’re about to continue your conversation, a familiar melody starts playing through the bar. Donghyuck wishes he could capture the way your face lights up and frame it forever.
“Just Like Heaven” by The Cure- one of his favorite songs.
“I love this song!” You exclaims.
One of yours too it seems.
You start singing the lyrics, and Donghyuck joins in, unable to resist.
You wish you had a tape recorder so you could capture his sweet voice and listen to it on repeat forever.
No one pays attention to you both- well except for the two tables of friends who are already planning all the jokes they’ll make about the two of you. But, you pay no mind to them. You’re lost in your own world.
“You
Soft and lonely
You
Lost and lonely
You
Just like heaven”
When the song finishes, your eyes meet Donghyuck’s; and though out of breath, you both burst into a fit of giggles.
“I think we’ll deserve a drink after that.” He declares, already pulling out his wallet.
“Oh no.” You place a hand on his arm, making Donghyuck freeze. “I can’t let the man of the hour pay for a drink on his birthday.”
He shakes his head and takes out his card anyway. “Since it’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want. And, what I want is to pay for a pretty girl’s drink. What would you like? A pint of Kloud?”
You’re grateful he’s turned his head away from you so he can’t see the blush that graces your cheeks.
He’s thinks I’m pretty.
“Yes, please.”
With drinks in hand, Donghyuck offers to walk you back to your table. Initial disappointment weighs on your chest. Is this where it ends? A handsome stranger charms you to a blushing mess, buys you a drink, and now he’ll walk you back to your table and….leave you alone for the rest of the night?
No. Something inside tells you that it’s not over yet. A gut feeling. An intuition.
“Where’s your table?” Donghyuck puts his hand lightly on your lower back to help guide you through the still-crowded bar. He hopes you don’t feel the way it shakes.
“It’s in that corner back there.” You point. When Donghyuck follows your gesture, he realizes it’s the high top right next to his booth.
“Oh you’re right next to mine!”
When you get closer, you realize that you do recognize Chenle at Donghyuck’s table.
You pause in front of the tables, looking at him, hopeful that this won’t be where you part for the night.
“So, we’re here.” You prod. He can practically see the hope shining in your eyes.
“Thanks for talking with me tonight. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening with your friends.”
Donghyuck winces at this own response. He can’t believe he just said that. He’s too out of practice, too sober, to think of a flirty, clever way to talk to you more. He shifts his gaze to avoid seeing your disappointment, but is unfortunately met with the disapproval of his friends. Renjun sighs and Jisung shakes his head.
“I hope you have a good birthday.” You say softly before walking back to your table.
As soon as Donghyuck returns to his seat, the scolding begins- though at low whispers as to not be heard by the neighboring group.
“Are you stupid?” Jaemin scolds him in a whisper-shout.
“Oh my…” Mark mutters to himself.
“Even, Jisungie is better at flirting than that.” Renjun sighs out again.
“What do you guys suggest I do? Hm?” He exhales, looking at his friends expectedly. If they were going to nag him, the least they could do is offer him some solid advice.
However, as he suspected, the table grows quiet. “Exactly. Let’s keep our comments to ourselves.” Then, he takes a long sip of his beer.
Camaraderie ensues again, but Donghyuck can’t stay focused. His eyes keep moving back to you. The way you’re leaned on the hightop table, fully focused on the story your friend is telling, and how your eyes somehow sparkle in the low bar lighting- he thinks you’re so pretty.
You catch him staring at you a few times, but before you can hold the eye contact, he looks away, as if embarrassed.
“This is your chance.” Jaemin mutters to Donghyuck, snapping him out of his daydream.
“Hm?”
“Her drink. It’s empty. Offer to buy her a new one and then ask you if can talk more privately.”
Donghyuck thought for a moment. It’s actually a good idea. What’s the worst that could happen? You could laugh in his face and tell him he missed his chance.
But you wouldn’t do that.
He stands up, his own empty beer glass in his hand, and walks around to your table. He feels even more pleased with his decision when your face lights up seeing him in front of you.
“I see you’ve got an empty glass. Care for a refill?”
“Who’s paying?” You prod with a teasing grin.
“It’s on me if that’s okay with you.”
“More than okay.”
Donghyuck is sporting a full toothed grin now. Feeling brave, he holds his hand out. When you take it, he feels on top of the world. A simple gesture has him flying.
He leads you back to the bar, pays for your drink as promised. Comfortable silence comes over you while you watch Jaehyun pour your beers.
“I’m not sure how much longer you’ll be staying but I wanna talk with you more, away from my nosy friends.” He says as confidently as he can.
You blush- you were right to listen to your heart. This is not over. “I’d like that a lot actually. You know I was a little disappointed when you went back to your table.”
Donghyuck throws his head back and groans, “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” The dramatics make you giggle.
“It’s okay. I’ll just go let my friends know.” Donghyuck watches you walk back to your tables. He’s entranced by you, completely. Taking a deep breath, he prays that tonight goes in his favor.
It’s his birthday after all.
Not even minutes later, you return.
“Let’s go to that table over there.” As he follows you, he finally notices that the bar has considerably cleared out. Soft jazz music now plays through the speakers. A mellowed out vibe compared to an hour earlier. This puts him more at ease.
You both slide into the booth, only centimeters separate you. You’re practically sitting shoulder to shoulder, feeling the heat radiate off him.
Conversation between you both begins again, flowing like it never stopped. You talk about the friends here with you tonight, your go-to coffee orders, your travels- if he’s ever been to Japan or France. Everything and anything in between.
Somehow you’ve both drifted closer to each other, shoulders now touching. You’re leaning into him as he is into you. Beer glasses still half-full- too caught up in the company next to you to care.
You can hardly focus on anything at this point. His proximity makes your head spin- or maybe that’s the alcohol still in your system you’re not sure. All you know is you can hardly focus on anything but the way his lips move as he talks. They look so soft. How would they feel moving against yours?
“….That’s when I told Jeno he was absolutely crazy. Are you even listening to me right now?” He teases.
You can only hum and nod as your reply, too dazed and entranced by him to properly say yes. Even so, it’d be a lie. You were not listening; you were just staring at his lips and begging any higher power listening that they would whisper to Donghyuck that-
“Y/n….can I kiss you right now?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper as if he’s afraid he’ll pop the perfect bubble you’re in right now.
Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes
You nod and before you know it, he’s leaning in.
You expected fire- hot and heavy that makes you flinch if it burns too long. But, the moment your lips meet Donghyuck’s, it’s warm. Not sparks, a steady flow of electricity that makes you feel alive. His lips are as soft as they look. He applies the perfect amount of pressure that doesn’t push you away but still leaves you wanting more. His hand comes up to cup your jaw and bring you closer together. Your mouths move more fervently and one hand comes up to rest on his chest to keep you steady. You’re starting to squirm, that electric flow awakening other parts within you. If he stops now, you might drop dead.
To your dismay, he pulls away, leaving you both breathing heavy. He smiles, a mix between embarrassment and satisfaction.
“You know the bar closes at 11.” He mutters. You turn to check the wall clock.
10:45
“Maybe, if you never finish your beer. We’ll never have to go.” You joke, but there’s a hint of sadness in your voice. You’re worried once you exit the walls of this bar, you’ll go back to being strangers. Then, you’ll spend the rest of your life missing that one handsome man you met at a random bar in your twenties.
“I don’t think Jaehyun would like that.” He says while patting your head affectionately as you pout in response.
“It’s getting late. Let me take you home.”
Such a simple statement stirs butterflies in your chest. You’re still feeling buzzed from the kiss you just shared.
“My apartment’s only a few blocks from here.”
“Lead the way pretty girl.”
You both bid goodbye to Jaehyun who is already starting to clean up. If you two weren’t so caught up in yourselves, you would’ve read the phone messages your friends sent you that they’ve gone home.
You don’t know when your hands connected after leaving the bar but you’re more than happy they did. The action warms your heart more than the alcohol tonight ever did.
You swing your hands together almost childlike as he walks you home. The light to guide the way are the street lamps. But, you’re not scared. Not with Donghyuck by your side.
“What did you do for your birthday today? Before the bar?”
“Hmm,” He thinks for a minute, “I slept in really late and stayed in my pajamas most of the day until my friends took me to the bar.”
“You didn’t do a lot..” You murmur.
“It’s exactly how I wanted it to go.” He raises your intertwined hands and kisses the back of yours. Donghyuck of course leaves out the part that his friends had to practically drag him out of his apartment to this bar. He figures you don’t need to know that.
“Did you have any cake at least?”
“Hmm. Nope. No cake.”
You completely stop in your tracks. He walks a few steps before feeling a tug on his hand.
“You didn’t have any cake?” You ask incredulously, eyes practically bugging out of your skull. Donghyuck chuckles to himself at the sight. You’re so damn cute, and dramatic.
“I guess we just kind of forgot.” He shrugs.
“We have to fix this.” You shake your head. “There’s a convenience store the block before my apartment. Let’s see if we can find something in there.”
He doesn’t argue with you, letting you pull him forward. Donghyuck doesn’t know you well but he has a feeling once you set your mind to something, there’s no convincing you otherwise.
Sure enough, after walking a ten more minutes, you’re stood in front of a 24 hour conveniences store. The bright light glowing from the sign almost makes Donghyuck squint.
The bell rings as you push yourself inside, dragging the birthday boy behind with your intertwined hands.
The clock reads 11:07. Plenty of time.
You scan the aisles diligently; Donghyuck follows like a lost puppy (he practically is one in this moment). Finding a pack of two basic candles, all that’s left is a cake, or something close to.
“All they have is a big chocolate cookie or a cup of strawberry ice cream.” You frown. Donghyuck feels the temptation to kiss it right off you. He refrains for now- you’re on a serious mission after all.
“Whatever you want pretty.” He says, moving his thumb across your hand absentmindedly. Donghyuck truly doesn’t mind- he’s not even sure he wants a sweet treat. But, you’re so determined, he can’t say no to you.
“But it’s your birthday. I want you to choose.” You whine.
“Ok. Let’s do strawberry ice cream and we can share it.” You smile in satisfaction before taking the both of you to the register.
“Oh! Do you have a lighter?”
After he shakes his head, you take one off the shelf and start to pay. Best believe, Donghyuck insisted he pay but, you argued back that he payed for your two drinks and it’s a gift for his birthday. He conceded in the end.
Next thing you know- you’re sat on the curb outside of the store. You prepare the impromptu birthday cake, carefully placing the two candles in the very small cup of ice cream.
“Ready?”
He nods, giving you the okay to light the candles.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..”
Your voice is so sweet. He wants to drown in the honey. He wants to freeze this moment. Just between you and him, and the bright convenience store lights.
“Make a wish!” You whisper.
He closes his eyes and really wishes.
He wishes for more moments like this with you. He wishes that this isn’t the end of your journey together. He wishes that by the end of the night he’ll be brave enough to get your number. He wishes this, whatever this is, will blossom into so much more.
Donghyuck will never say any of this out loud though. He won’t risk anything for his wish to not come true.
He opens his eyes and blows out the candles. You cheer and watch the smoke dissolves into the summer night.
11:35 perfect timing.
“Happy birthday, Donghyuck.” You smile at him shyly. He wants to eat you alive. How can you have such a hold on him? Not even four hours ago, he hadn’t even known you. He never wants to go back there again.
You both dig into the ice cream. Granted, you each only get about four full bites in before the cup is finished.
“Best birthday cake ever.” He says, and you giggle in reply. He hopes you know that he means it though. Silence settles over you. It’s disgusting- the hearts that are coming out of both your eyes. Anyone would become sick looking at the two of you.
Donghyuck brings a hand up to your cheek. “You have a little something here….” And, he’s kissing you again. It’s sweeter this time- the lingering taste of strawberry on both your lips. In sheer desperation, you grab his shirt to pull him closer. He opens his mouth in response to you, his body telling you that he wants you as much as you want him. Your tongues dance together, in perfect sync. Breathing in each other’s air, you’re bordering on exhibitionism.
Maybe, not that far.
But, if he keeps this up, you might ask him to take you right here on the curb.
“Please take me home.” You whine, breaking away, an unfortunate but necessary communication.
“Okay, yes, okay.” He stands up, helping you in the process. You’re a giggling fluttering mess, practicing skipping the rest of the block to your apartment. Donghyuck follows close behind, extremely amused and equally as happy.
His hands are on your waist as you come to your front door. You fumble with the keys, from both nerves and giddiness
As soon as the door opens and closes, he’s on you again. Arms wraps around your waist to pull you close and your lips connect again, moving with more passion than before. It’s quite a haphazard scene- the two of you walking backward in the dark completely unaware and uncaring about your surroundings.
Eventually, Donghyuck taps your thigh. You hop up and wrap your legs around his waist, fully supported by him now.
“Where’s your bedroom sweet girl?” He detaches for a moment and then continues kissing down your neck, waiting for your reply.
“To the left, down the hall.”
He walks with haste; you appreciate it. Pushing open your bedroom door, he sets you down, now hovering over you.
“I should prep you baby. What do you want?” He says, searching your eyes. You look like a dream- face flushed, hair laid out around you like a halo. The moonlight that shines through your window seems to make you sparkle.
You blush at the question. What do you want? Your mind is too clouded by him . That’s the only answer you have.
“Just want you.” You murmur. He hums and thinks.
“Really want to be inside you. How about my fingers? I’ll eat you out another time- I’ll do it slow and properly next time. Is that okay?”
You nod frantically. You’d have him in anyway; it didn’t matter to you.
“Need words.” He whispers, hardly a centimeter from your face.
“Please fuck me, Donghyuck.” You practically whine out, growing patient. If you weren’t such a horny mess, you’d be more appreciative at his thoughtfulness.
With the green light, he helps to strip you, throwing the clothing across your room.
God, you’re a sight. He could come just looking at you.
He full crawls on top of you, connecting you lips once again. One arm braces himself over you while the other one snakes down your torso. You whine into his mouth when his hand stops at your hip. Your body tries to take initiative when your hips buck into him. He chuckles into your mouth.
“Okay, okay.” He relents. Donghyuck didn’t mean to tease you- he was trying to savor the moment.
Once his fingers prod your entrance, all is forgiven. It’s overwhelming- how he stimulates your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm. He curls his fingers in just the right way. Your body reacts to him so well- like you’ve known each other for years.
That familiar coil starts to wind in your stomach. You’re close. He knows it, you feel it.
“Want you inside me.” You whimper. He happily obliges to your request. Taking his fingers away from your core- you whine at the loss of contact, even though that’s what you just asked for. Donghyuck takes his fingers up to his mouth and you watch, with lust-filled eyes, him put his fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking them clean from your slick.
He moans at the taste. “You taste so sweet, baby. I promise I’ll fuck you with my tongue next time.”
After completing stripping himself, he lifts your leg and bends it, exposing your core. Donghyuck starts to nudge himself inside- the feeling making both of you close your eyes in pleasure.
You could feel him pulsing inside your walls; he no better, barely holding his sanity together.
“You’re so tight babygirl. Fuck.” He grunts.
“Move please, Hyuck.” You whimper. When he does start rocking his hips against yours, you feel euphoric all over again. The rhythm, the angle- he’s hitting all the right spots. His head is buried in your shoulder, willing himself to not come just yet.
But, something about you makes it hard for him to control himself. His movements turn frantic, chasing that high for both of you.
“I’m close.” Your grip on his arm tightens as you’re about to come undone.
“Yeah? Come for me baby.”
He leans down to connect your lips again. It’s with such passion, adding to the stimulation. Overwhelming but welcome nevertheless.
You unravel under him. Donghyuck winces when he feels you come around his cock. He rocks inside you a little more, helping you ride out your high before pulling out and finishing on your stomach. Collapsing next to you, he’s silent for a minute, catching his breath and recollecting himself. You’re doing the same. The perspiration on your skins makes you look like you’re glowing. Some could argue it’s a post-sex glow; Donghyuck argues it’s also from pure happiness.
Not long after you’ve both finished, he starts to get up- the urge to take care of you ever present. You murmur sleepily where your washcloths and pajamas are. Donghyuck is now on a mission.
First, he sneaks into your kitchen for some glasses of water. Then, he stops in your bathroom to prepare a washcloth to clean you up. His final destination is your closet where he finds a soft old t-shirt and new underwear for you to sleep in.
Once he cleans you up, he lays down next to you, pulling you into his chest. You’re so sleepy and far gone, you could think this is a dream. The last thing you feel is Donghyuck’s steady heartbeat before you’re pulled into a deep sleep.
-
It’s sunlight that pulls Donghyuck into consciousness. The light shining through your windows prods his eyes open. Then, he registers a weight on him. You’re sprawled out across him, left leg draped across his body and arm curled on his chest. He relishes in the feeling.
Donghyuck doesn’t know what time it is, if you have plans today, or how you’ll feel when you wake up. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to leave your warmth.
He doesn’t have to wonder long as he feels you start to stir as well. The way you nuzzle into his shoulder makes him melt.
“Morning.” You murmur, still refusing to open your eyes to the sunlight.
“Hi pretty girl.”
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Better than ever.” He grins.
“Good.” It’s quiet for a moment. Maybe, you’re feeling brave, or maybe it’s the sleep clouding your brain, you dare to ask, “How long can you stay?”
Forever, Donghyuck thinks.
But, he squeezes your waist instead and offers an answer much less overwhelming, “I have no plans other than you, baby.”
Let’s go steady.
Let's go out
And tell the whole damn world how….
disclaimer: I do not claim anything in this fic happened in reality. This is all fiction and for fun.
pairing ▸ boyfriend! jaehyun x gender neutral reader
genre ▸ fluff | clay date with jae
word count ▸ 661.
warnings ▸ none!
Jaehyun had his eyebrows furrowed as he stared intently at the mess before him. Laid on the wooden table were packs of vibrant coloured clay and some supplies, and displayed on his phone was an image of a clay bread.
Jaehyun flicked his gaze back to his screen, studying it carefully to pick out his clay colours and tools. Hm, why did the supposedly cute clay bread look at him so wickedly? It was as though it could look right out the screen at those other— well— “artistic” figures made by him.
Alongside, in all glory, were his creations — a cat, a cactus, and a single flower.
Cute, right?
Jaehyun had thought so too, until he had taken a look at your face and saw you closing your eyes and biting your inner cheek just to not laugh at his face.
Sure his cat somehow had 6 limbs — all of different sizes btw, sure his cactus looked like he had just joined two green and brown coloured cylinders, sure his flower had 2 stems — but hey— he tried his best.
He knows he is not skilled in this art, but how was he supposed to say no when you had asked him so sweetly: Jae, would you like to make clay figures with me?
This time though, he is adamant. He is going to make the cutest clay bread! So cute that you won’t be able to resist rewarding him with your kisses. He smiles at the thought. Hell yeah, he gotta make the damn bread now!
Carefully, he rolled out the brown clay, using the plastic knife to shape it, frowning whenever the clay didn’t seem to cooperate with him. Why does the outline seem different from that in the picture?
He glanced at the inspiration again.
And wait…was the bread laughing at him now?
“Why are you looking at me with such a cunning smirk???” You could imagine him rolling his eyes from the way his words were laced with impatience. You chuckled, eyes drifting to your boyfriend.
He had his lips pressed, the look on his face stern as though this was the most important task of his life. Every few minutes, you would hear Jaehyun cursing at the bread, and it was getting hard to suppress the giggles that threatened to escape from your throat.
When Jaehyun noticed this, his ears dusted pink, embarrassed and shy. But the quiet echo of your voice was a melody to him and so, he purposefully cursed out a little louder, a little more frequent, just so he could see the bloom on your face.
“Andddd….I beat you again!” You lifted your finished piece, humming in satisfaction when you noticed he was nowhere near finishing.
Jaehyun chuckled. “If only Mr. Bread right here had quit being mean to me, I would have won this round.” He smiled at you, eyes so soft that it took everything in you to not kiss him right then and there, pretty dimples only making your job difficult.
Oh right, you almost forgot!
You take the plastic knife and gently press in the clay bread to add one last touch to your creation. “Look!” You said with a proud look on your face.
His smile widened. “Is that supposed to be me?” He pointed at the dimples on your bread, chuckling when you vigorously bobbed your head.
“Well then,” he added his own touches to the bread, a pair of lashed eyes (again, he tried his best) and two blobs of red on its face. “Look, it's you!” He beamed.
“Aw, that's so cute! Should we make these as fridge magnets?”
His hand moved across the table to bring your hand to his lips. He caressed your knuckles before landing a tender kiss on them. “Sure, I would love to pass these as our family heirloom.”
luna’s note ▸ yay, you made it to the end! thank you for taking out your time to read my story ♡ i hoped you liked it! please let me know your thoughts!, a small feedback can change my day for the better and give me motivation to bring more of such stories to you so please share your thoughts!
you can find more of my posted works here and fic ideas here!
warnings & tags: unprotected sex, breeding, rough sex (? slightly idk), haechan slightly loses control, birthday sex, mentions of a condom, spanking briefly, slight degradation, fingering
the silk of the babydoll lingerie felt cool upon your skin, the pale pink fabric was trimmed with white lace, barely covering the curve of your breast while the skirt ended below at your hips, leaving your ass completely exposed. you spent what felt like weeks searching for the perfect set, the matching thong was already soaked with anticipation, the thin fabric hardly containing your slick folds.
“haechan?”, you called out, your voice trembling slightly. “can you come here for a minute.” foot steps approached the bathroom. “yeah? everything okay?”
you took a deep breath, your heart pounding against your chest. “i just need your opinion on something.”, the door creaked opened, his gaze always made your stomach flip. his gaze swept you over once, then again, fully taking in your appearance, his mouth falling slightly open. the air thickened as his eyes traced every inch of your skin, from the swell of your breast down to the bare curve of your ass.
“fuck”, he breathed, stepping closer towards you. the scent of his cologne filled the small space. “happy birthday to me, huh?”
his hands found your waist immediately, fingers digging in the soft flesh. you could feel his erection pressing against your stomach through his jeans. his thumbs circled your hipbones as his eyes devoured you. “you look..”, he shook his head, leaning in to press a kiss against your neck. “absolutely perfect.”
the first kiss was gentle, then something shifted. his grip tightened, pulling you flushed against his body. the silk of your lingerie bunched between your bodies as his hands roamed down to the curve of your ass, squeezing just enough to cause you to gasp. “haechan..”, you started, his lips crashed into yours, swallowing your words. his tongue forced it’s way in your mouth, one hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back, giving him better access while one slid between your legs, tearing at the flimsy thong.
“been thinking about this all day”, he growled against your mouth. “walking around in that little skirt, teasing me.”, his fingers found your clit, rubbing rough circles through your folds. you were already dripping, coating his fingers with your slick. “such a fucking tease.”
your back hit the wall with a soft thud as he pressed you against it. the title was cold against your bare skin, in contrast to the heat building between your legs. his kisses grew messier, more desperate, his teeth scraping at your bottom lip, tongue fucking your mouth like he couldn’t get enough of you in that moment. then came the sound of ripping fabric. the lace give away as his fingers hooked into the neckline of your lingerie. your nipples pebbled in the cool air, hardening under his gaze.
“much better.”, he murmured, his mouth closing around one breast. his teeth scrapped at your sensitive nipple, making you cry out in pleasure. he sucked hard, leaving marks that would show up tomorrow. his other hand continued the assault between your legs, two fingers plunging into your tight hole while his thumb worked at your clit. “please.”, you whimpered, hips bucking against his hand. “please haechan.”
he lifted you suddenly, his strength surprising you. your legs wrapped around his waist, your back scraped against the wall as he positioned himself, the rough denim rubbing against your inner thighs. you could feel his cock throbbing through the fabric. “gonna fuck you so hard.”, he promised, his voice rough with need.
he carried you to the bedroom, dropping you onto the mattress. the soft sheets in contrast to the rough way he handled you. his hands spread your ass cheeks, exposing your dripping cunt to his hungry eyes. “look at this pretty little hole.”, he growled, spanking your ass causing you to let out a broken moan. the sting quickly melted into pleasure as he rubbed the reddening skin. “all ready for me.”
the mattress dipped as he climbed behind you, his knees nudging your legs further apart. his cock slipped between your folds, coating himself in your wetness before pressing at your entrance. “wait.”, you gasped, turning to look at him over your shoulder. his eyes were dark with lust, his hair falling into his face. “condom..”
“but it’s my birthday.”, he interrupted, slamming into you with one brutal thrust. the sudden fullness made you scream, your hands clutching at the sheets. “birthday boy gets what he wants.”
he set a punishing pace from the start, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, his balls slapping against your clit with each thrust. the bed frame creaked, the headboard banging against the wall. your moans filled the room. “such a tight little pussy.”, he grunted, his fingers digging into your hips, just enough to leave a bruise. “made for my cock aren’t you?”
you could only whimper in response, your body rocking with force of his thrust. his hand came down to your ass again, the sharp slap making your pussy clench around him. he groaned, his movements becoming more erratic.
“fuck, yes.”, he growled. “squeeze my cock just like that.”,
his other hand slid down to rub your clit, rough circles matching his thrust. the dual simulation was overwhelming, his thick cock pounding into you, while his fingers worked at your sensitive nub. you could feel your orgasm building, a tight coil threatening to snap at any moment.
“come for me.”, he demanded. “come all over my cock like the dirty girl you are.”
his words pushed you over the edge, your orgasm washed over you, the pleasure was so intense it made your vision blur. your pussy spasmed around his cock, milking him as he continued chasing his own high. “fuck.”, he groaned, his thrust becoming sloppy.
his cum flooded your pussy, thick ropes painting your walls. he collapsed on top of you, the weight pressing you into the mattress. the room was silent expect for your uneven breathing. after a moment he rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. his fingers fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin.
“best birthday present.”, he murmured against your hair. you smiled snuggling closer as his arms tightened around you. the torn lingerie lay forgotten on the floor.
synopsis mark spent six months ranting to his best friend about his ex, never noticing she was in love with him the whole time. When he finally moves on and admits he likes her, it feels like the moment she’s been waiting for—yet all the nights of pain and unspoken feelings make it hard for her to accept so easily.
genre — mild angst, fluff, bestfriends to lovers, smut
pairing — idol/bestfriend!mark lee x non-idol! f.reader
warning — swearing, slight angst (if u squint), mentions of alcohol, mark is insufferable, smut, dom!mark, p in v, no protection, pussy eating
note — ayeee part 2 is here, i put my blood sweat tears in this, i tried to put more angst but like who could reject mark...?
playlist — pour up by dean, temperature by psychic fever, love by dean (ft syd), baby dont like it by nct 127, house of cards by bts, aftertaste by anderson paak and dean, heaven by red velvet - irene&seulgi
₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚
mark had been leaning lazily against the kitchen counter, phone in hand while half-listening to whatever story chenle was loudly telling from the couch. but the second his eyes met yours, the entire room seemed to blur out around him. his posture straightened slightly. you looked tired, visible dark circles around your eyes. signs of no sleep, only because of him.
not the usual “i stayed up too late” kind of tired. the kind that sat behind your eyes and dragged your shoulders down no matter how hard you tried to hide it behind that small smile and somehow, that was the first thing he noticed.
not your clothes.
not your messy hair.
not the fact that you looked like you’d rushed over without thinking twice...
just you
your presence relieves him to ease
his expression softened almost instantly.
“hey,” mark says quietly, voice gentler compared to the chaos around him, you suddenly become hyperaware of yourself under his gaze. the oversized hoodie you threw on in five seconds. the lack of makeup. the exhaustion practically written across your face, and meanwhile he looked unfairly good without even trying, so annoying
your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag as you forced out an awkward laugh. “sorry, i look kinda horrible right now..." the second the words leave your mouth, mark’s brows pull together “what?” he says immediately, almost offended by the statement itself, haechan snorts from somewhere behind you. “oh brother, here he goes.”
mark ignores him completely, eyes still fixed on you,“you don’t look horrible." the sincerity in his voice makes your stomach twist unexpectedly. “you look tired,” he corrects softly. “there’s a difference, exams must've drained you out... right?"
for a moment, nobody says anything, then chenle groans dramatically from the couch. “god, this is actually painful to watch..." “shut up,” mark mutters without even looking away from you, earning loud gasps from the room, and somehow, despite the exhaustion weighing you all day, the tightness in your chest eases just a little.
you nodded at him, with a slight smile, looking down, getting used to the chaos, "how have you been..?" you said, exhaling.
not how have promotions been.
not how’s the solo stuff going.
just him.
mark’s smile falters slightly, only for a second but you notice it because he understood exactly what you meant. the air between you suddenly feels heavier, filled with all the things neither of you had properly talked about since that happened. the distance. the silence. the awkward drifting apart neither of you seemed to know how to fix.
mark exhales quietly, glancing down before nodding once. “i’ve been…” he pauses, lips pressing together briefly. “busy, i guess.”you give a small nod, though both of you know that wasn’t really an answer, haechan, surprisingly, notices the shift immediately.
his playful expression softens as he exchanges a quick look with chenle before loudly clapping his hands together. “anyway!,” he announces dramatically, standing up from the couch. “chenle, help me order food, let's go, let's go!"
“why do i have to help”
“because i said so.”
“that’s literally dictatorship"
their bickering grows distant as they drag the others toward the kitchen, leaving you and mark standing awkwardly near the hallway, the silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, it's just careful. careful of how things are going to turn out.
mark finally looks back at you fully, eyes softer now, “how about you?” he asks quietly. “you disappeared for a while.." your throat tightens a little at that, because disappearing sounded a lot nicer than admitting you just didn’t know how to be around him anymore after the sudden distance between you.
you hesitate for a moment before finally forcing the words out, “…could we talk somewhere quiet?” your voice is soft, nearly drowned out by the music blasting in every corner of the house but mark hears every syllable clearly and then you look at him.
really look at him.
there’s something in your expression that makes his stomach twist painfully tight, nervousness or exhaustion, maybe even hurt and suddenly all he can think about is how easily he’d give you anything if you just asked.
his jaw tightens slightly before he nods. “yeah,” he says immediately, quieter now. “of course.” he doesn’t even hesitate, mark gestures for you to follow him, slipping past the chaos of the living room while the others are too distracted arguing over food to notice much. though as you pass by, haechan definitely notices the tension between you two, his eyes narrow towards you two suspiciously, a smear smirk appears, maybe tonight. he'll forget about rina.
the stairs creak softly beneath your footsteps as you follow mark upstairs, farther away from the noise, the laughter, the bright lights downstairs. the air feels different up here, calmer. heavier, more dangerous somehow.
mark leads you toward the small balcony connected to the hallway, sliding the glass door open carefully before stepping aside for you first, cold night air immediately brushes against your skin, goosebumps rise.
for a second, neither of you speak.
mark leans lightly against the railing beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants as he watches you carefully from the corner of his eye, he hesitantly speaks, "so, what’s up..? kinda scaring me there hah.." his awful attempt at lightening the mood, attempting a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and somehow, that only makes this harder.
“that day…”
the second those words leave your mouth, mark’s posture changes instantly, subtly but you noticed it. his shoulders straighten, fingers curling tighter against the railing beside him while his gaze drifts away from yours toward the city lights in the distance.
you swallow nervously, staring down at your shoes instead, “i wasn’t in the right mind,” you continue carefully, voice quieter now. “i mentioned her and…i messed things up between us, right?” the memory still made your stomach twist unpleasantly.
you risk a glance at him for barely a second before looking away again, “i’m sorry,” you murmur. “i crossed the line.”your fingers fidget anxiously with the sleeve covering your hands.
“…but a part of that wasn’t a mistake.”
silence.
cold air brushes past the balcony, but it suddenly feels hard to breathe, mark slowly turns his head toward you. his brows are furrowed deeply now. no, he wasn't angry, which would be more understandable and easier instead, he looks frustrated. conflicted.
his jaw clenches slightly as he watches you stand there apologizing to him like you’d committed some unforgivable crime, it irritates him instantly because why would you apologize to him like this? why were you looking at the floor like you were waiting for him to confirm your worst fears? mark exhales sharply through his nose before speaking.
“stop doing that.”
your head lifts slightly. “what?”
“acting like everything was your fault.”
his voice is low now, controlled, but there’s clear irritation underneath it, he pushes himself off the railing, taking a step closer. “yeah, mentioning her hurt,” he admits honestly, eyes fixed on you. “but you know what pissed me off more?”you blink up at him quietly.
“the fact, you're not wrong.
his expression tightens, and he leans back against the railing once more, fingers rubbing tiredly over his jaw as if admitting this out loud physically exhausted him.
“it’s me,” he says with a bitter laugh. “i’m the stuck-up idiot who couldn’t move on from my ex.” his words come slower now. more honest “and i tormented you because of it.” your brows pull together immediately. “mark—”, “no,” he cuts in softly, shaking his head. “let me say it.”
the city lights reflect faintly in his eyes as he looks away again, visibly frustrated with himself “i kept comparing everything to the past without realizing it.” he swallows harshly. “and you were the one who had to deal with that version of me.” the guilt in his voice makes your chest ache
“those things you said to me that night…” he pauses. “they pissed me off because they were true" you stared at him silently. “i hated hearing it,” he admits. “but after you left, i kept thinking about it over and over again.”
the wind blows softly through his hair, but neither of you move. mark finally looks at you again then, expression calmer now. vulnerable in a way you rarely ever saw from him, “you know what the worst part is?” he asks quietly.
your throat tightens. “what?”
his gaze lingers on you for a second too long before he answers. “i didn’t even realize how important you are to me until you stopped being around.
your eyes widened after those words left mark's mouth, and you let out an exhale, throat dry as a desert. "i don't understand what you're trying to say ..." you narrow your eyes at him. mark musters up courage, to look you in the eyes, seeing the reflection in your eyes of himself, made him realize what he was about to do was pretty shameless. he hesitantly speaks, "y/n, i like you."
your throat tightening, realizing the weight of his words. they relentlessly repeat in your head as mark waves his hand in front of your eyes, "y/n? are you uncomfortable? i'm truly sorry. i- uh, this wasn't supposed to happen—" you cut him off, "no! mark, what? what are you saying...?" you frowned at him, feeling this strange emotion between the line of happiness and unfairness.
mark's expression falls immediately at the confusion on your face, his hand drops back to his side awkwardly, trying to figure out if he ruined everything in the span of ten seconds.
"I—, uh let's forget this happened.." he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his voice now. you let out an emotionless laugh, more like a huff. Your brows are furrowed tightly as you stare him, emotions visibly fighting behind your eyes.
"you're so unfair. you're so selfish mark. you know, every time you would start talking about rina, how'd I feel? i would feel like shit, like every word of yours would feel like stepping on shreds of broken glass.
your throat tightens painfully, and silence crashes between you. mark can’t even interrupt because deep down, he knows you’re right. you finally look back at him, eyes glossy under the balcony lights. “for the longest time,” you admit quietly, “i thought these feelings of mine were completely one-sided.”
the confession knocks the breath out of him. his lips part slightly, but nothing comes out because while you were sitting alone convincing yourself you never stood a chance, he was too busy being stuck in the past to even recognize what was right in front of him.
“y/n…” his voice comes out rougher than before. you immediately wipe at your face in frustration, embarrassed by the tears threatening to form. mark’s chest aches so sharply it almost feels unbearable. you laugh weakly at yourself, shaking your head.
“this makes me even more pathetic.”
“don’t,” he says immediately.
his voice is firm this time, he steps closer before stopping himself halfway, like he’s scared touching you right now would only make things worse. his eyes are locked onto yours now, filled with guilt and something heavier.
before you can step away again, mark’s hands gently grip your sides, careful but desperate at the same time. the sudden closeness makes your breath hitch. his eyes search yours frantically, and seeing you like this hurt because of him, crying because of him feels like something physically crushing down on his chest.
“y/n, i’m sorry…”
his voice breaks completely, and your expression falters instantly because mark rarely cries. but now tears are slipping down his face faster than he can stop them, his grip on you tightening slightly like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he loosens it even a little “i know,” he chokes out shakily. “i know i was selfish.”
he laughs bitterly through the tears, shaking his head at himself.
“i’m such a goddamn fucking loser.”
“mark—”
“but i don’t wanna lose you,” he says quickly, voice cracking again. “please.”
the desperation in his voice hurts more than it should and then, almost cruelly timed, faint music drifts up from downstairs — some sad love song. you stare at him for a second before a hollow laugh escapes your lips at the sheer irony of it all
mark lets out a watery laugh too, forehead dropping briefly against your shoulder as if the emotional weight of the night is finally catching up to him. “perfect timing,” you mutter weakly.
A shaky laugh leaves him despite everything and somehow that tiny sound seems to break you even more. he pulls back just enough to look at you again, eyes red, cheeks damp.
“i know i don’t deserve this,” he says quietly. “i know i probably confused you and hurt you more than anyone should.” his thumb brushes lightly against your sleeve near your waist, hesitant. “but if there’s even a small chance…” he swallows hard. “i wanna do this properly.”
you stare at him silently.
the cold night air, the distant music, the city lights below everything suddenly feels strangely blurry compared to the way he’s looking at you right now, like you’re the only thing he can focus on.
"so..?" you sniff, wiping the residue tears under your eyes as you let out a small laugh, "so when are you asking me to become your girlfriend?"
silence
mark blinks once, then twice.
"what?" he breathes out, staring at you in disbelief. "what." you laugh again, this time more real, your cheeks burn immediately under his gaze. "don't make me repeat myself twice..." suddenly embarrassed, "it's embarrassing.."
his mouth opens slightly before closing again, and the realization then hits him fully. his eyes widened so fast, it made you laugh. "oh my god." he mumbles to himself.
"uhm, okay wait– let me start thid again -" he rushes, hands trembling like he genuinely couldn't believe this is real. he wipes quickly at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, still looking emotional and overwhelmed at once.
"uh– so, would you let me be your boyfriend..?" he looks at you with hearts in his eyes, you wanted to devour him right there and then. he nodded, way eagerly then you expected, as tears escaped your eyes.another tear slips down your cheek as you laugh softly at his reaction, overwhelmed by everything all at once
before you can say anything else, he pulls you into him suddenly, arms wrapping tightly around your waist while yours instinctively circle around his shoulders. mark laughs shakily against your hair, holding you like he’s scared this moment will disappear if he loosens his grip. and honestly, you did the same. The tension between you both, building walls between you two, is cracking apart.
mark's forehead dropping against yours, he keeps looking at you with that same disbelieving expression, like he still can’t understand how this ended with you in his arms instead of walking away from him.
then, after a moment, his ears turn faintly red “…can i kiss you?” he asks softly and somehow, after everything tonight, that shy question is what finally makes your heart completely melt.
you don't say yes.
you don't waste a single second with words because words have kept you apart for far too long. you instantly go in. how could you reject him when this exact moment is what you have been craving for months, losing sleep over, and dreaming about. you lean in, sliding your hands up his chest to grip the fabric of his hoodie, and close the gap between your lips.
mark lets out a sharp, muffled breath against your mouth, a tiny sound of pure shock, but the hesitation lasts for less than a second. The moment your lips meet his, his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you flush against him as he catches his balance. the shy, desperate boy disappears, replaced entirely by the boy who has been wanting you just as desperately.
the kiss is warm, deep, and heavy with months of unspoken longing. his lips are soft but demanding, parting slightly as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, his thumb smoothing over the fabric of your shirt, anchoring you to him.
when you finally pull back just enough to breathe, your foreheads resting together, mark’s eyes are still closed, a breathless, dazed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His ears are redder than ever, but he doesn't look disbelieving anymore. he feels relieved.
mark narrows his eyes on your shirt, and he opens his mouth before closing it again. you understood what he meant as you pulled your shirt off with no hesitation. mark's eyes widened at your bold action. he was memorised at your almost bare state. his breath hitched in his throat, the words he had been trying to form dying instantly. his mind completely short-circuiting as his gaze locks onto you.
"y/n," he breathes out, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely stripped of his usual hesitation. the crimson flush on his ears spreads down his neck, but the shy restraint from moments ago vanishes entirely, replaced by a dark, intense focus.
"you're going to drive me crazy," he murmurs, you sat there, bare-chested save for a lace bra that struggled to contain the swell of your breasts. mark's eyes widened. he looked as if he had been struck. his gaze travelled slowly, hungrily, over the curve of your waist and the pale slope of your chest. he eyefucked you with a raw, undisguised intensity that made your stomach flip.
he reached out, his hand trembling slightly. he didn't touch your skin at first; his fingers hovered just an inch away from your shoulder. then, he slid his hand around to your back. you leaned forward, granting him access. you felt the tips of his fingers fumbling with the hook of your bra. there was a sharp click, and the tension of the lace snapped.
the bra loosened, and you let it slide down your arms. You were completely bare from the waist up, your nipples peaking in the chill of the room. mark let out a low, guttural sound, a moan that started deep in his chest. he reached out and gave you a look of approval and cupped your breast, his palm warm and heavy. he squeezed, his thumb brushing over the hardened tip of your nipple.
"you are so beautiful," mark murmured.
"you're way more beautiful," you whispered.
mark lunged forward, his mouth crashing against hers. the kiss was not gentle. it was a collision of weeks of repressed desire. he tasted of mint and desperation. his tongue pushed into your mouth, seeking you with an aggressive hunger. You both exchanged saliva in a messy, wet slurry, breaths mingling in frantic gasps. mark's hand moved from your breast to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair to pull her closer, deepening the kiss until you felt lightheaded.
you let out a whimper into his mouth, your hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his jeans. you could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against the soft cotton, a thick, insistent weight. you tugged at the waistband, the cotton tensing under the pressure.
"are you sure?" mark gasped, breaking the kiss for a second to breathe. you nodded almost instantly,
mark didn't argue. he pushed you back onto the sofa, his body following yours. He hovered over you, his eyes scanning your naked torso once more. he lowered his head, his lips trailing down your neck to the valley between your breasts. He licked a path of fire toward your left nipple, his tongue swirling around the areola before he took the peak into his mouth.
you arched your back, a loud moan escaping you. the sensation of his warm, wet tongue suctioning your nipple sent a jolt of electricity straight to your crotch. you felt a sudden, heavy gush of wetness between your thighs, your pussy aching for him.
"mark, please," you whimpered. mark moved lower, his hands sliding under your pants, pushing the fabric down to your ankles. he found the thin lace of your panties and ripped them to the side with a sudden, violent motion. he didn't remove them he simply pushed them aside to expose your dripping folds.
he leaned down, his face inches from your heat. he inhaled deeply, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. "oh my god," Mark whispered, mouth open in awe, he pressed his tongue against your clit, a sharp, direct stroke that made you scream. he began to lap at you, his tongue moving in fast, rhythmic circles. He used his fingers to spread your lips wide, exposing the pink, swollen walls of your vagina.
he pushed two fingers deep inside you, feeling the tight, hot squeeze of your muscles.
the sound of it filled the quiet room—a wet, squelching noise as his fingers slid in and out of your soaking wet walls. your hips bucked uncontrollably, your hands gripping the velvet of the sofa, your knuckles white.
"i can't... i can't take it," you gasped, your voice breaking, mark looked up at you, his lips glistening with your juices. he quickly stood up and shed his clothes, his sweatpants and boxers falling in a heap. when he stood before you, his cock was fully erect, a thick, veiny pillar of flesh that pulsed with every heartbeat. beads of clear pre-cum leaked from the tip, glistening in the dim light.
you reached out, your fingers wrapping around the shaft. he was hot, the skin stretched tight. you slid your hand up and down, feeling the ridge of his tip. mark groaned, his head snapping back.
you shifted, sliding your legs around his waist and pulling him toward you. you guided the head of his cock to your entrance, the wetness of your pussy acting as a lubricant.
you lowered yourself slowly, the thick head of his penis stretching you open. you felt a moment of resistance, a fullness that bordered on pain, before you slid down completely, taking all of him in one deep, sliding motion.
a, wet squelch echoed as your bodies connected. you let out a long, shuddering breath, your eyes fluttering shut. he filled you completely, hitting your cervix with a dull thud that made your toes curl. "baby, fuck..." Mark groaned, his voice sounding strangled. "god, you feel incredible."
he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, and began to thrust upward. the motion was slow at first, a steady grind that focused on the friction of your pelvic bones rubbing together. then, the pace quickened.
the sound of your bodies became a rhythmic percussion, lewd sounds of skin slapping on each other, the slap of his balls against the lower curve of your pelvic, the wet shlicking of his cock sliding through your cream. with every thrust, air was pushed out of your pussy, creating small, popping sounds that added to the raw intensity of the act.
"harder!," you urged, your voice a ragged whisper.
mark obeyed. he flipped you over, pinning you face-down into the pillows. he entered you from behind, his cock sliding back into you with a loud, wet plunge. the angle allowed him to go deeper, his length burying itself into you until there was no space left between you.
he hammered into you, his movements becoming frantic and erratic. the vigor of his thrusts caused his cock to slip out almost entirely, the head glancing off your outer lips before slamming back inside with a heavy thud.
the friction was intense, the heat building in both of you until it felt like you were melting together.
your breasts bounced and jiggled with every impact, your nipples rubbing against the fabric of the sofa. you could hear the sounds of your passion heavy, synchronized panting, the wet slapping of skin on skin, the way mark's breath hitched every time he hit your sweet spot.
"i'm going to... i'm almost..." mark gasped, his voice trembling.
his hand reached down, his hand finding your clit, squeezing and circling it in a deliciously slow manner. the action pushed you over the edge. you let out a whimper, body stiffening as he continued the double pleasure, your head felt light, toes curling. muffled moans escaped your mouth, as he violated your hole relentlessly.
the knot in your stomach loosening second by second, feeling insane ecstasy, your hips stiffened as you come undone, releasing your juices all over his thighs and the bed sheet, making a mess, mark rode out your orgasm, continuing the frantic thrusts which were getting sloppier by the second, chasing his own orgasm.
he delivered one final, deep thrust. he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside you as he erupted. you felt the hot jets of his semen hitting your cervix, wave after wave of thick, warm fluid filling you up. your internal muscles clamped down on him, milking him for every last drop.
you both stayed like that for a long time, locked together, your chests heaving in unison. the only sound in the room was the rhythm of the faint music and the wet, sliding sound as mark slowly pulled out of you.
a mixture of pre-cum, saliva, and semen leaked from your opening, trailing down your thigh in a sticky, white streak. he flopped down next to you, anchoring his arm around your waist.
"i'm sorry, and i love you, y/n." mark whispered.
you laughed, a small, breathless sound. you leaned against his him, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
"i love you way more," you replied.
the heavy silence of the room returns, broken only by the sound of your shared, uneven breathing. both of you are completely tired, with chests heaving and breathing shuddered, completely consumed by the sudden rush of adrenaline and the warmth of each other's embrace.
and unknowingly, you both didn't notice, eyes peeking from the unclosed creaking door, it was haechan and chenle, peeking in, grinning ear to ear. they had their heads stacked one over the other in the tiny crack of the doorframe, witnessing the absolute chaos they had probably been rooting for weeks.
"finally, they did it!" haechan whispered, turning his head towards chenle with a triumphant grin. he adjusted his stance, leaning back slightly while keeping his voice to a low, muffled murmur. "do you think they noticed the songs I put from my go-to sex playlist?"
chenle furrowed his eyebrows, his amused grin instantly dropping into pure annoyance. he looked at him deadpan. "just shut up, dude..."
synopsis mark spent six months ranting to his best friend about his ex, never noticing she was in love with him the whole time. When he finally moves on and admits he likes her, it feels like the moment she’s been waiting for—yet all the nights of pain and unspoken feelings make it hard for her to accept so easily.
《 PT 1 — PT 2 》
genre — mild angst, fluff, bestfriends to lovers
pairing — idol/bestfriend!mark lee x non-idol! f.reader
warning —swearing, miscommunication, mentions of alcohol, mark is insufferable, clinging over past relationships, NOT proofread
first fic sooo expect grammar mistakes and this fic idea was going around in my mind for months so i thought why not write my own fic ...! thank u for reading and maybe there might be a pt2
playlist — loser by mark, round&round by nct u, easy by jaehyun, insomnia by haechan, lie with you by ten, i just by red velvet, what 2 do by dean.
₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚
☆ 19th february, 2025
you sat on the chair in mark's studio, after he showed you his song. 'loser.mp3' written on the computer illuminating the dark studio.
he sat on the couch of his studio, looking at you with hope, "sooo, how's it? it's the demo, i have to record the final version but i wrote down some lyrics to get the general vibes of the song.." he stated, you nodded in response, "sounds good, it's something i'd listen on a rainy day... it's great!"
mark smiled, then after a few seconds he groaned, "aghh...this song, y'know i wrote this for rina." rina, his ex. the girl who made your life a living hell, even if you never met her --- mark introduced her to you like she was part of your own life story.
you rolled your eyes and huffed "mark, just let her go! she even moved on and yet you're still here, talking about her every given chance" mark pouted "i thought we were best friends...we'd listen to each other and-" you cut him off "listen to each other, not you just mentioning your goddamn ex everytime we have a conversation, listen i know you're heartbroken but you gotta try and move on, you've got million of fans out there for you, cheering you on for your album"
"yeah right, if you'd ever get heartbroken, you would feel the same, dude..." you sighed, rolling your eyes in your mind, thinking yeah right, heartbroken as if he's not ranting to you about his ex for the past three months that's been breaking you from inside.
☆ 6th april, 2025
《A day before the release of 'The Firstfruit'》
you were in your bed, staring at the '1999' music video premiere, smiling to yourself, for mark. you know how hard he worked for this album and it contains many of his memories and history, with rina as well.
you knew how much he loved rina, always blabbering about rina. they were dating for 3 years, but rina suddenly left mark with a lousy excuse that she 'fell out of love.' ever since that, mark has been struggling with his health, physically and mentally. you stayed by his side and know how much he has prepared for this album.
this burning ache in your heart everytime he mentions rina arises, honestly you think you can treat him better than rina. if he would stop crying like a loser about his breakup and move on, but that doesn't change anything.
you felt a lump in your throat thinking about it, eyes getting teary. you let out a sigh and set your phone aside and laid down on your bed. you didn't know what to do, university has been stressing you out and this mess with mark.
a week after the release of his album, you finally saw mark when he came over to your house to visit you. your mom letting him obviously as she adores him. you were on your pc, playing the round of valorant as you kept losing. you let out a frustrated huff "fuck this game..."
you felt a presence behind you, you turned around to see mark with a grin holding beer and chicken. you gave him a soft smile, as you signaled him to sit down. "i lowkey forgot you were an idol..been so busy?" you let an soft scoff. mark replied while settling the cans of beer and chicken on the table "did you hear the album?" he asked with a huge smile on his lips.
your eyes drifted towards his lips and then his eyes, you nodded while pressing your lips together. "it was so good! like i'm so proud of you, mark!" mark grinned as he reached for your hand, intertwining his hand with your hand, "you're just the best, y/n. do you know that?"
you almost couldn't breathe, heart skipping a beat when he held your hand, like fireworks burst in your heart. a stuttering thanks escaped your mouth. you pulled out your hand from his hand, avoiding eye contact, looking down at the chicken.
mark looked a bit confused, he furrowed his eyebrows, "something wrong? you look stressed out" you huffed looking up at him "i'm fine, i just...i was doing some assignments." mark still looking confused as he moved closer to you, turning sidewards to look behind you. "oh assignments?" he said with a smirk, raising his eyebrow, you turn around to see the round of valorant put on pause.
you let out a small laugh, turning your head back at him, to end up being too close to him. noses almost touching, the air was thick, heavy, like you'd just forgotten how to breathe.
you almost choked on the chicken bone as you coughed out the chicken from your mouth. you thought to yourself "so fucking embarrassing, i should just bury myself right now." mark quickly hurried to pat your back, quickly opening the bottle of water to you. you gestured a 'i'm fine' to him. "you okay? i was just joking around" he asked.
looking concerned. yeah joking around, coming so close to me and doesn't expect to take the breathe out my lungs. you thought to yourself. "i'm fine don't worry hah...and that valo round, i was just taking a break."
everytime you try to act normal infront of him, something always happens. to him, probably it's casual and brushes it off because you're his homie, his best friend, nothing more than that. but for you? it felt like your heart was on fire, each beat echoing louder than the last.
after eating the chicken and chugging down the beer, mark offered to play a round of valorant with you, which you accepted. the next hour flew in a blur, respawns, and constant teasing. mark was surprisingly good — way better than he let on and you found yourself laughing more than you had all week.
every time he got a kill, he’d throw a cheeky smirk over his shoulder, and every time you clutched a narrow win, he’d groan dramatically, shaking his head like a kid caught cheating.
“you're cheating,” you accused, pressing your hands to your face as he snagged yet another kill.
“cheating?” he echoed, mock-offended. “oh please, I’m just naturally amazing.”
"yeah right" you rolled your eyes, scoffing at his self praises. you stretched in your chair, walking over to your bed. plopping on your bed, letting out a tired "i'm tipsy..." mark turned to look at you, leaving the controller down on the table. he sat next to you on the bed. "go to bed, i'll clean this up and leave."
you groaned at his words "you always leave..." mark looked down at you, furrowing his eyes, "what?" you're drunk and about to blabber some nonsense to him. you grab at his hoodie, forcing him to stay still. you look up at him, a dead stare. "are you going to rina?" mark's lips opened in a gap, "what are you saying y/n?"
you sit up on the bed, maintaining eye contact. in your tipsy state, you are basically known as the most shameless person alive. you grabbed mark by his collar, pulling him close, lips inches away from touching. you said with a mix of beer and chicken breathe "don't do this to me, please..."
mark basically froze, as he obviously didn't expect you to do this to him. "y/n...what?" he whispered, the air was thick, heavy, didn't know what type of tension was this, sexual? emotional? you knew what you were doing wasn't right. you passed out from the affect of alcohol. good timing, right? you fainted on his chest as he was confused, concerned and worried.
the next day, ur memories from that day have been totally erased from your mind. the only thing you remember was how you snacked on chicken and beer, and you blacked out. Mark probably left late because of you since he cleaned out the mess you created. He is probably at Inkigayo pre-recording.
There was no single text from him, though he would update you on what he was doing. Heat rushing to your face as the weight of your own words replayed in your head again and again. of all things, why did you have to mention rina? your stomach twisted painfully.
idiot.
you clenched your jaw, teeth pressing together as embarrassment crawled under your skin. maybe you’d ruined the little progress he’d made trying to move on from her. the thought alone made your chest ache.
Two weeks after that incident, things between you and mark changed. not drastically. not enough for anyone else to notice, but you noticed. the texts became shorter, safer, and carefully measured, like both of you were trying not to step on broken glass, it was truly frustrating.
how was your day?
it was okay, yours?
how did your exam go?
pretty decent i think.
Pretty much that was it. no random late-night bantering, no teasing, no spamming each other with stupid pictures and voice messages. every conversation felt like strangers trying to imitate friendship, you hated it deeply.
every time his name popped up on your screen, your fingers hovered over the keyboard, wanting to clarify yourself, saying the words
i’m sorry.
but your ego wouldn't let you, wrapping around your throat like a barb wire. so, instead, you kept pretending this distance didn’t bother you. After your final exam, you had barely gotten home before your phone buzzed again. It was Jaemin..?
you stared at the notification for a second before opening it.
> we’re throwing mark a party tonight for his solo debut
come to the dream dorm
he doesn't know, so dont spill, thank uuuu ♡♡♡
Your chest tightens immediately at mark's name. You read the text again, and again, the dream dorm. The place that used to feel warm and familiar now only got used for parties and celebrations, loud music and crowded rooms. You thought what if he told his members, about I said. Maybe they all resent me now?
You dropped your phone onto the bed with a groan, dragging your hands down your face. Sighs, part of you wanted to say no, actually most of you wanted to say no. Because after seeing mark after weeks of awkward texting sounded like torture. Another part of you missed his presence, his laugh, his un-funny jokes. You missed him.
So after ten whole minutes of staring at the ceiling and arguing with yourself, you grabbed your phone again and typed back
> sure, i’ll be there.
The message was sent immediately, but suddenly, you regretted everything. How will you face him? Will he be the same with you, or will he give you the cold shoulder. These thoughts devoured your brain relentlessly..
— AT THE PARTY —
You were infront of the dream apartment, heart racing erratically. You just had a feeling something'll go wrong today. The second the dorm door swung open, haechan leaned against the frame dramatically, arms spread wide.
“yooo, what’s up,” he grinned, pointing at himself proudly, “mark’s second best friend. since i’m obviously the first," despite yourself, a small tired laugh escaped you. "right...”
haechan’s teasing grin softened slightly as he looked at you properly under the hallway light. “wait,” he squinted, “what’s wrong with you? you look... tired...?" You slipped your shoes off by the entrance, forcing a shrug, “it’s just exam season. drained the life out of me.” You waved him off lightly. “don’t worry, tonight i’ll get my energy back!"
he gave you a suspicious hum, clearly not fully convinced, before stepping aside to let you in, the moment you entered the dorm, your eyes widened. Fairy lights were taped absolutely everywhere, around door frames, hanging unevenly from the ceiling, wrapped around random furniture like someone had lost control halfway through decorating. giant printed photos of mark were scattered across the walls, some normal, some horrifyingly zoomed in and some 140 pixel and in the background, “1999” blasted through the speakers loud enough to shake the floor.
“wow…” you muttered. “this is… something.” haechan puffed his chest proudly from behind you, “decorated by yours truly, lee donghyuck. thank you very much..." he lets out a proud huff? you turned to him with a straight face. “no, i mean it’s something....this is somehow worse than the party you threw for jeno’s birthday...
haechan gasped in offence immediately. “go to hell, bro.”you finally laughed properly, the tension in your chest loosening just a little as you walked further inside. Then your eyes darted toward mark, effortlessly dressed, still looking as handsome as ever. And you? Mentally drained, you didn't try to dress properly today. Suddenly feeling out of place. your steps slowed, as you make eye contact with mark...
A friendship can’t be ruined by having sex… can it?
⊹₊⋆ pairing: best friend!haechan x fem!reader x love interest!jaehyun (slight)
⊹₊⋆ warnings: angst, fluff, smut, best friends to lovers trope, protected sex, unprotected sex (use protection pls), fingering, making out, nudes, slowburn, suggestive redaction, mild cursing, reader is a virgin lol, haechan isn't, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance.
⊹₊⋆wc: 18,3K
READ THE PREVIEW [HERE]
Two weeks later
haechan sighed again, his chest heavy as he collapsed onto the couch. With both hands, he covered his face, fingers digging into his skin, trying to block out the past two weeks.
hyuck didn’t understand why there was this twisted mess of emotions swirling in his stomach, why his thoughts were so scattered, a jumble of "what ifs" and "should I's".
it had been two weeks since you made that insane proposition to him. haechan hadn’t talked much since then, just the occasional texts letting each other know when they’d left or entered the building they both lived in. the topic hadn’t come up, and you hadn’t pressured him either. but, god, it haunted him.
it was unthinkable. his values just wouldn’t allow it. sleeping with his best friend? never crossed his mind. but you—you weren’t just anyone. you’d been inseparable since high school. your sense of humor matched perfectly, and everyone knew the two of you were a damn force together. their friends noticed the bond, the way they both seemed to fit like puzzle pieces, always there for each other, even when they fought. like siblings, but with none of the blood ties.
that word, "siblings"—it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was strange that others saw them two like that. but they were okay with it. there were boundaries in their relationship, and crossing them was unforgivable.
of course, you were angelic. your bubbly personality and constant jokes made you irresistible. physically, you were gorgeous, though you were a bit shorter than him—way too short, maybe. you had black hair and an odd but cute bangs just above your eyebrows, something he liked to tease you about.
and yeah, you’d catch anyone’s eye. he wasn’t gonna lie—he’d had a crush on you when he first met you in high school. but over time, that romantic attraction faded as your friendship grew stronger.
maybe it was also the way you were so open with your thoughts—no filter, no shame—that when you asked him about sleeping together, it sounded completely natural to you. to him, though? It was a punch to the gut, a cold shower, a slap to the face. he was spinning, disoriented, trapped in what felt like a twisted fantasy—or maybe a nightmare.
for him, sex wasn’t a taboo subject. he’d lost his virginity at 17 to one of his many girlfriends, and talking about it was casual. hell, haechan didn’t even hold back when discussing the details of his past experiences with you. he’d even described how he’d "done it" in vivid detail—like it was nothing.
but you? you were different. you had dated three guys since high school, but none of those relationships lasted more than two months. so, you didn’t exactly know what it was like to be in a serious, long-term relationship. snd sex? It didn’t seem like a necessity in your life—at least not until now.
“I mean, when you’re dating someone romantically and nothing happens, i’d call that a win,” you said, casually munching on a slice of lemon tart.
haechan furrowed his brows, taking a sip of his coffee. “explain that.”
“it’s simple,” you shrugged. “because if they haven’t seen you naked, you can run into them on the street and not have to worry about that bastard seeing your ass.”
heck couldn’t help but laugh at your reasoning. “right, totally.”
you both chuckled, agreeing on that one. but he also knew, deep down, it wasn’t that simple for him. not anymore. he couldn’t ignore what was bubbling beneath the surface.
haechan felt a buzz in his pocket. his phone. the first class of the day was about to start, and he had to rush if he didn’t want to be late. he lived close to campus, just a five-minute walk, but the class was on the other side of the building.
but this situation? it was messing with his head so much that he couldn’t fall asleep until 3 AM these past two weeks. he grabbed his backpack and keys, about to head out when his phone buzzed again.
it was you. a message: “i’m heading to class, just leaving my apartment.”
haechan froze. he hadn’t expected you to text him now. his hand gripped the doorknob, but he didn’t open it. the thought of seeing you right now made his heart race. he wasn’t ready. not yet. he couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine.
"shit... y/n, what were you thinking?"
he sighed deeply. what was this? haechan could hear his own voice in his head, his thoughts like an endless storm. he couldn’t stop thinking about you—about what you had said, and about everything that had changed in such a short time. his stomach twisted. what would happen if he saw you now? could he face you? could he even be the same around you after what you had suggested?
he shook his head, hoping to clear his thoughts. He didn’t have the answers, but he knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be easy.
haechan let out a deep sigh, adjusting his scarf around his neck before stepping out of his apartment. he tried to calm himself, convincing himself that he could handle whatever came next. as if nothing had happened. as if he could just brush it off and pretend it hadn’t been weighing on him for the past two weeks.
but every time he thought about it, it made his chest tighten. that proposal of yours. the way you had looked at him, so casually, as if it were no big deal. he couldn’t get it out of his mind. he had always been the life of the party, the one to make jokes and laugh things off. but this—this was different. it gnawed at him like an insistent itch he couldn’t scratch, a question with no answer.
he made his way to campus, each step seeming faster than the last, but his thoughts were tangled in a mess of confusion and frustration. you hadn’t seemed bothered. if anything, you had acted like it was just another conversation. you hadn’t even tried to talk to him about it again, hadn’t pressured him. but that only made it worse. the silence between you both was deafening. you had sent that message, but it wasn’t the same. it was as if you had moved on without even thinking about it, while he was still stuck in the same place, drowning in his thoughts.
it was absurd. he was known for being the carefree one, the one who didn’t let anything get to him. but now? now he was a mess. the more he tried to convince himself that it was no big deal, the harder it was to believe it. you had said it so easily, like it was a joke, and yet it had shattered something inside him. the truth was, he didn’t know how to look at you anymore. he didn’t know how to face you after that. how could he? after everything?
haechan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. his footsteps carried him toward the building, and the closer he got, the more his anxiety grew. he couldn’t avoid it forever. he’d have to see you eventually. the communication department wasn’t that big, and it seemed like the entire campus would lead him straight to you.
as he reached the entrance of the building, his alert system kicked in. you were probably inside already. and damn it, the thought of running into you—now, after everything—felt like a punch in the gut. you hadn’t even mentioned it again, hadn’t tried to force a conversation. yet he could feel it. the tension. the distance. how had it gotten to this? why did he feel so… disconnected?
he stopped for a second, hand resting against the doorframe, trying to breathe. but it was like everything had changed. nothing was simple anymore. he had been your best friend for so long, but now? now it felt like he was walking on eggshells, unsure of what would break first.
“hey.”
a light punch to his back snapped him out of his daze, and the blood immediately drained from his face. that voice—he couldn’t mistake it, not even if a million voices tried to mimic it. His breath hitched, and he turned around so fast it almost hurt.
there you were. small, as always. a knitted beanie sitting snug over your head, that— ridiculous—fringe barely brushing the tops of your brows, framing your delicate face in a way that made his throat dry. a long grey coat hung from your shoulders, swallowing you slightly, and your black boots clicked softly against the floor. everything about you looked… normal. the way you looked at him, the way you smiled, even the casual punch to his back.
physical contact.
that word echoed in his head like a siren. he quickly shook the thought away, locking his focus on the paper Starbucks bag dangling from your left hand. maybe you’d stopped by the café on the way. maybe you ordered delivery. maybe someone gave it to you. maybe—god, he needed to stop. the hamster in his brain was doing flips, and he wanted to knock some sense into himself.
you held the bag out toward him.
haechan just stared at it for a second, until you raised your eyebrows, shook it again, and snapped, “are you gonna take it or what?! geez, i brought it for you and you’re just standing there looking at it like an idiot.”
your expression twisted in mock annoyance, brows curved upward—but oddly, he felt the tightness in his chest ease a little.
reluctantly, haechan reached out and took the bag, brushing his fingers against yours for a second too long. he tried not to react, but his mind was a chaotic storm. He couldn’t help but look at you—really look.
had you always looked like this? that coat hugged your waist just enough. the shape of your figure was something he never let himself notice before. and your chest… jesus. it wasn’t like you’d suddenly changed, but it felt like someone had wiped the fog off his glasses. He was seeing you differently. entirely.
and that terrified him.
he lowered his eyes quickly, too aware of how warm his ears were getting.
“thanks,” he mumbled, voice a little hoarse.
“no problem,” you replied, glancing around casually. “i figured you might skip breakfast again, so…”
you trailed off with a small shrug, stuffing your hands into your coat pockets. haechan tried to smile, but his stomach was tangled in impossible knots.
haechan took another deep breath as he tried to collect himself, shifting the weight of the Starbucks bag from one hand to the other. he looked at you, trying to ignore the pull in his chest—the sudden awareness of every little detail about you. there was a tension he couldn’t shake off, something that sat heavy in his stomach.
you seemed to notice his distracted state and leaned against the wall, your usual easygoing posture, the same as always, except now, he couldn’t stop noticing how you looked in that oversized coat and those boots. he was spiraling again, caught in the thought of you.
“so…” you broke the silence, “i’ve been kind of swamped lately. working on this branding project for a client. it’s been a pain, though. my computer decided to die on me right when I needed it most.”
haechan raised an eyebrow, his mind snapping back to reality. “really? you didn’t tell me about it. why didn’t you ask for help? I mean, i know a thing or two about fixing computers. I could’ve helped you.”
you shrugged, a small, nonchalant smile playing at the corners of your lips. “nah, i called taeyong instead. he’s better with that stuff.”
there was a sharp tug in haechan’s chest. he hadn’t expected that. the knot in his stomach tightened, a wave of discomfort washing over him. taeyong? really?
he tried to laugh it off, but there was something bitter in his tone as he asked, “taeyong? why him? i thought you knew I was good with that kind of stuff.”
“yeah, well,” you quipped with a raised eyebrow, “taeyong just happened to be the first one I thought of. besides, he’s pretty quick with tech stuff.”
haechan’s smile was tight, and his stomach churned. he told himself it was nothing. he was being stupid. but why didn’t you ask him? he had always been there when your tech failed. it felt… weird. almost like you didn’t need him anymore. but, of course, he didn’t voice any of that. instead, he played it off, trying to act casual.
“sure, sure,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. he was so not handling this well. the thought of you asking someone else for help left him unsettled, and he hated how much it bothered him. It was irrational, but he couldn't shake it.
you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he pulled back just a little. your smile softened as you leaned forward slightly, breaking the silence again.
“hey,” you said gently, “i’m sorry if it upset you. it wasn’t meant to make you feel left out, really.”
haechan quickly looked up, trying to look unfazed. “nah, it’s fine. I mean, it's not like i’m the only one you can ask for help, right?” he joked, but there was an edge to his voice that didn’t quite match the tone of his words.
you raised your eyebrows, a knowing look in your eyes. “you’re acting like a total prude right now,” you said, a smirk forming. “didn’t you used to tell me all the crazy stuff you did with jang chanmi back in high school? and now the topic of helping a friend with a computer is freaking you out?”
haechan blinked, taken aback. the mention of chanmi, especially in the context of your teasing, was enough to snap him out of his spiraling thoughts. he groaned, running a hand through his hair, trying to laugh it off. “well, that was different, okay? that was high school stuff.”
you chuckled, leaning back against the wall, clearly amused by his discomfort. “oh, come on. don’t tell me you’re too shy to talk about tech problems now. you used to explain every position you tried with her—like it was a lesson in geometry or something.”
haechan let out an exasperated sigh, not sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful for the way you were managing to cut through the tension. he couldn’t stop the blush creeping up his neck, and he cursed under his breath. of all the people, you had to be the one to make him feel like a damn fool.
“well, that was different, okay? It’s... it’s not like i’m comfortable talking about that stuff with you anymore, alright?” he almost winced at his words. the last thing he wanted was to make it sound like he couldn’t be himself with you.
you tilted your head slightly, your tone playful but with a hint of mischief. “don’t worry, though. I just asked taeyong to help with the computer. i didn’t make the same proposal to him that i made to you.”
haechan’s eyes went wide. he froze, his face instantly flushing. did you really just say that? the sudden wave of heat rushing to his face felt like he was on fire. his brain scrambled for words, but all he could manage was a surprised, “wait, what?”
you laughed softly, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him.
“you’re scared i’m gonna bring it up, aren’t you?”
“what? i—no, i’m fine,” he said too quickly, almost defensively. “just tired. you know, early class. cold outside. normal stuff.”
you didn’t say anything right away. just looked at him with that calm gaze of yours, the one that could read people like open books.
that hit him harder than expected. he flinched. swallowed. you tilted your head slightly.
“it’s okay,” you said, voice even. “if it made you uncomfortable… we don’t have to talk about it. ever. i’m not gonna ambush you or corner you or expect anything.”
haechan blinked. your tone was so mature, so measured—like you’d thought about this. like you knew what it had done to him.
“it was dumb of me,” you continued with a small smile. “or maybe not dumb, just… bold. and i get it, you didn’t sign up for that. so, if you want to forget it ever happened, consider it forgotten. clean slate.”
he didn’t know what to say. a hundred emotions jostled in his chest, fighting for space. gratitude. relief. guilt. and something else entirely—something heavier and harder to name.
because despite everything, despite the panic and confusion and awkward silences, you were still here. talking to him. offering him coffee. smiling at him like you always did.
but something had changed. he saw it in the way he noticed your lips when they moved. in the way his eyes lingered a beat too long on the curve of your body. in the way his mind kept circling back to that question you’d asked two weeks ago.
and the worst part?
haechan didn’t know if he wanted to go back to before.
before everything had shifted. before he started noticing all these things about you—things he had never allowed himself to see. he wasn’t sure if it was fear of the unknown or something else entirely, but the thought of things returning to how they were felt… difficult.
“anyway,” you said, standing up from the railing and brushing your hands off as if to clear the air between you. "i’ll see you later. don’t overthink it, alright?"
the casual way you said it made his chest tighten. he could feel that something was still unspoken, that there was more you weren’t saying, but he didn’t press. you were good at hiding what you truly felt, always had been.
haechan tried to push the conversation out of his mind as he entered his class on media studies. he sat down, pulling his notes in front of him and attempting to focus, but his thoughts were all over the place. his brain kept circling back to your words—had you meant everything you said? Was it really that simple for you?
the ice-cold americano you’d brought him sat on the edge of his desk. Its perfect arrangement, just the way he always liked it, made his chest tighten for reasons he couldn’t explain. he watched as droplets of water gathered on the glass, slowly tracing their way down to pool at the bottom.
he was distracted. but even more than that, he was feeling something he couldn’t quite name. his gaze wandered over the cold surface, the way the water clung to the glass—his mind drifting to you. to your smile. to the way your voice had lingered in his thoughts.
he imagined, for a moment, what it would be like if those droplets were slipping along your skin instead. He didn’t want to think about it, but his mind had other plans. every thought that surfaced seemed to lead back to you—the curve of your lips, the way you had looked at him just before leaving.
his pulse quickened, a wave of heat rising to his face. he snapped back to reality, but the blush was already creeping up his neck. "what the hell am i doing?" he muttered under his breath, quickly looking down at his notes again, trying to focus. his mind refused to cooperate. why was he thinking about this now? why was his body reacting like this?
he could feel the tension rising, like a knot tightening in his stomach. he had never been this aware of you before—not like this. and the worst part was, he didn’t know how to stop it.
you buried your face in your hands, heart racing, panic rising in your chest. what had you done?
the proposal you made to haechan wasn’t random—not by a long shot. It came from somewhere raw, impulsive, and aching. you’d convinced yourself he would say yes. no hesitation. no second thoughts. that’s what your friends told you, right?
"guys are easy. especially when it comes to sex. they’re always down," yeri had said with a laugh, trying to encourage you. “come on, it’s haechan. he jokes about that stuff all the time.”
and maybe that was the worst part. because you believed her. you judged your best friend through a lens of assumption, reducing him to some stereotype, thinking he’d just say yes because he was a guy. because he was him.
but he didn’t.
and now you knew—you had judged him so, so wrong. haechan wasn’t like the guys in those stories your friends always told. he wasn’t thoughtless. he wasn’t careless. he was kind. and considerate. and the look on his face after your question… you could still see it. confused. hurt. maybe even disappointed. not because you asked, but because he didn’t know how to respond without breaking something between you.
the guilt clawed its way up your throat.
you hadn’t asked him just for the sake of it, either. it wasn’t some random experiment. it was desperation. because ever since last fall, ever since he came into the picture, something in you had changed.
jung jaehyun.
a senior in the visual arts department. tall, graceful, and unfairly good-looking—like he’d walked straight out of a perfume ad in a fashion magazine. chiseled jawline, smooth voice, perfect smile. the kind of man who turned heads in every hallway he walked through. girls whispered about him constantly—rumors, fantasies, stories that may or may not have been true. he was confident, magnetic, dangerous in that way only people who know they’re desired can be.
and of course, you weren’t immune.
you saw him at a few parties, caught glimpses of him sketching in the studio, his sleeves rolled up and headphones in, and felt a pull you didn’t fully understand. it wasn’t love. It wasn’t even a crush. it was curiosity. lust. a hunger you didn’t recognize as your own until it became too loud to ignore.
your friends told you to go for it. "just hook up with him," they said. "get it over with." but you couldn’t. you didn’t have the experience, the confidence, the… proof that you could be the kind of girl someone like jaehyun might want.
so you turned to the only person you trusted. the only one who made you feel safe, unjudged, seen.
haechan.
and now you’d hurt him.
you hadn’t just crossed a line—you’d shattered the trust he’d always given you so freely. all because you were afraid. because you wanted to prove something. because you thought he’d just say yes.
but he didn’t.
now you sat in the middle of your typography and composition class, surrounded by the soft clatter of keyboards and the low hum of your professor’s lecture, your laptop open in front of you and your adobe illustrator file untouched. letters floated on your screen in random positions, but your brain couldn’t form a single coherent thought. you weren’t even sure what the assignment was supposed to be.
your body was there—but your mind was somewhere else entirely. caught in the swirl of embarrassment, regret, and confusion. a storm of emotion you didn’t know how to calm. all you could think was: what have I done?
it had been a week since that conversation. on the surface, everything seemed fine—like a reset button had been pressed. you and haechan still exchanged jokes, shared snacks, and sat next to each other in class. but underneath the laughter and casual glances, there was a strange hollowness, like the two of you had become actors reciting old lines in a play that didn’t fit anymore. robotically pretending the elephant in the room didn’t exist, even though its shadow loomed over every interaction. after all, everything had already been said, hadn’t it?
still, something was off.
haechan hadn’t hooked up with anyone since then. it wasn’t for lack of trying—he’d gone out, flirted, danced—but each time, his mind wandered back to you. and it wasn’t just idle thoughts. no, it was worse.
every night that week, he'd woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, heart racing, and a painful hardness straining against his boxers. dreams of you—wearing almost nothing, bent in suggestive positions, whispering filthy things in his ear, inviting him to taste you, to touch you—played on a loop in his subconscious. but right when he was about to finally reach you, melt into you, he’d wake up frustrated and breathless. left with no choice but to slip his hand under the waistband and relieve the aching pressure. for serotonin. for oxytocin. for sanity.
now, it was saturday night and he was stuck at work.
the burger place was dead quiet. maybe it was the cold snap that had settled over the city, keeping everyone snuggled up in their homes instead of venturing out for greasy fast food. Haechan didn’t mind, really. he was sick of putting on his fake retail voice—“welcome! Fries with that?”—and dealing with people who didn’t say thank you. right now, he was working the closing shift, wearing the stiff black uniform cap and flipping patties that hissed on the flat top grill. the whole place smelled of grilled beef, fryer oil, and cheap pickles. his coworkers were goofing off while mopping the floor and stacking chairs, and haechan, while half-listening to their jokes, was just counting the minutes till he could clock out and go back to bed.
that was when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
unknown number.
haechan hesitated. he barely ever answered unknown numbers, but something in his gut told him to pick up.
“hello?”
“HAECHAN!”
a girl’s voice. loud, panicked. He blinked.
“…who is this?”
“it’s seojung—y/n’s friend. you probably don’t remember me. we met, like, once.”
oh. right. you had sent him the numbers of your friends months ago, just in case. he’d never saved them.
“yeah, uh—what’s up?”
“it’s y/n,” she said quickly.
the emergency button in his brain went off.
“what happened? is she okay?! did something happen to her?”
“well—kind of?”
apparently, you’d gone out for a girls’ night. a little bar in the city downtown. everything was fine, until you’d gotten verydrunk. so drunk, in fact, you couldn’t even hold your head up, slurring nonsense, sobbing into seojung’s shoulder.
haechan grabbed his jacket before she even finished explaining.
“she kept saying… uh, really weird stuff,” seojung added nervously. “like—please don’t be mad, okay?—but she was screaming in the middle of the street that she was gonna die a virgin because her own best friend refused to help her.”
haechan stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in disbelief. “she said what?”
“i know! i was like, girl, stop embarrassing yourself! but she kept going. she even tried to climb on a statue to do a dramatic monologue or something, it was chaos.”
the line went quiet for a second.
“anyway,” seojung continued, “we can’t take her to the dorms—they don’t let us bring people in after curfew, and she’s way too far gone to be alone. you’re the only person she might listen to. can you come get her?”
“i’m on my way,” haechan said without hesitation, already sprinting out the back door. he didn’t even clock out. his coworkers just watched in stunned silence as he bolted into the freezing night air, hoodie half-zipped, hair disheveled, heart pounding.
he didn’t know exactly what he’d find when he got there.
but part of him was already bracing for it.
despite the cold weather, you had decided to wear a short velvet dress, sheer black tights, and an oversized puffer jacket that looked hilariously disproportionate on you—but also kind of cute. haechan blinked twice when he realized the jacket was his. the one he’d been looking for since last week. seeing you in it made his chest do something strange, tight and warm, like a coil winding in his ribs.
you looked disoriented, your makeup slightly smudged, your eyes glassy but still sparkly. your long legs peeked out from under the hem of the dress, knees wobbling as you leaned heavily on seojung for support. Behind her were yeri and jimin—both trying to look casual but clearly avoiding haechan’s gaze.
“sorry for calling so suddenly,” seojung said with an awkward smile, shifting nervously on her feet. “we didn’t know who else to call…”
“she just kept saying your name,” yeri added, crossing her arms.
“she’s been… emotional,” jimin muttered, eyes darting to the side. “also—sorry for… earlier stuff.”
the three girls looked anywhere but at haechan. there was something stiff in the air, a subtle frost behind their polite words. they knew what had happened. they knew he’d rejected you.
“thanks for looking after her,” haechan said simply, ignoring the tension as he gently took your arm. you mumbled something about “fuck friendship” and “i’ll die a virgin anyway,” making all three girls wince in embarrassment.
after quick goodbyes, they left hurriedly. haechan helped you into a cab, the inside warm and dimly lit, smelling faintly of peppermint and old leather.
“address?” the driver asked.
haechan rattled it off. the driver glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled.
“cute couple,” he said.
“oh—we’re not—” haechan began, but the man cut him off.
“young love. must be nice,” he chuckled. “leaving work in the middle of your shift to take care of your drunk girlfriend. that’s real devotion, son.”
haechan opened his mouth to correct him again, but then—
“HE REJECTED ME!” you suddenly shouted, head lolling dramatically to the side. “I asked him to have sex with me and he SAID NO.”
yhe cab fell into a stunned silence.
“…ah,” the driver finally said. “one-sided love, then.”
haechan wanted to crawl out of the moving car and disappear into the road. yhe driver shook his head sympathetically.
“you’re making a mistake, boy,” he said gravely. “a pretty lady like this? she won’t wait forever. you two already look like a couple. all that’s missing is the kiss.”
haechan glanced down at you, now slumped against his side, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. your makeup was a mess, your breath reeked of gin and lime, and you were clutching the hem of his jacket like it was your last lifeline.
and somehow, even like this, you looked heartbreakingly beautiful.
haechan stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver, the man's words echoing in his head like a song stuck on repeat. “you’re letting a good girl slip away…” he shouldn’t care what some stranger thought, but there was something about the way the guy said it — confident, certain — that made the sentence stick like honey to the roof of his mouth.
he turned around just in time to see you stepping out of the cab in your short dress, sheer tights hugging your legs, and a massive oversized jacket drowning your frame. his oversized jacket.
his breath caught a little. you looked both sexy and soft — long, graceful legs out in the cold, but your face flushed from alcohol and framed by the collar of his jacket. somehow, even in that state, you looked... perfect.
“you know where we are, right?” he asked gently, offering you his hand.
you nodded lazily, squinting at the familiar entrance of your apartment complex. but instead of walking toward it, you turned to him, a sly, sleepy smile playing on your lips.
“i don’t wanna go to my apartment,” you said, voice low and vaguely suggestive.
haechan blinked. “you need to sleep. you’re drunk.”
“i don’t wanna go to my apartment,” you repeated, this time slower, like you were daring him to challenge you. “i lost my keys.”
“you what?” his voice cracked as he stared at you in disbelief. “where the hell are you gonna sleep then?”
you tilted your head, your eyes glinting under the streetlight. “with you.”
silence.
haechan’s mouth opened slightly, the color rushing to his face like fire. he stammered, trying to find the words — to remind you of your promise, of how you said you'd drop this whole thing and start over.
but before he could say a word, you leaned forward with a groan and threw up directly into a nearby bush.
“oh, shit—” he muttered, rushing to hold you. he gathered your hair, gently rubbed your back, whispering reassurances under his breath. “okay, okay, it’s fine… just let it out…”
eventually, you straightened up, eyes glassy, cheeks damp from the cold wind. he sighed and wrapped an arm around you, leading you toward his place — your weight half-slumped against him.
inside, the warmth of his small apartment wrapped around you both. he carefully sat you on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen, filling a glass of water and setting a tea kettle on the stove.
you watched him in silence for a moment before breaking it. “i know what i said,” you murmured. “About letting it go. About forgetting. but i can’t. i literally can’t.”
he froze, slowly turning toward you.
“i feel like a hormonal teenager,” you laughed bitterly, wiping your mouth. “I keep thinking about you. about what i asked you. about what it would be like.”
“y/n…” he warned gently, setting the water beside you.
“i have this thing,” you blurted. “with my sunbae. jung jaehyun. he’s… god, he’s stupidly hot. tall, broad shoulders, perfect hair, every girl wants him. he only sleeps with older women — the kind who know what they’re doing. and I just… i don’t want to disappoint him.”
haechan’s expression darkened, not with anger, but something deeper. “so you wanted to use me as practice?” he asked, voice low.
“i’m not trying to use you,” you said, firm but vulnerable. “you’re my best friend. i trust you more than anyone. and you’re… you’re good at it.”
haechan blinked. “what?”
“you’re good in bed.”
he narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “and how the hell do you know that?”
you gave a half-smirk. “you talk about it all the time, remember? bragging about your conquests like a walking NSFW podcast. you made it sound like you practically invented foreplay.”
haechan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “god, I was joking half the time—”
“but that’s exactly why i asked you in the first place,” you cut in, locking eyes with him. “because there’s no one else i’d trust for something like this. and let’s be honest—” you tilted your head with a teasing smile. “it’s not like you’ve gotten laid recently either.”
his jaw tensed. “i’m not desperate for sex, y/n.”
“oh, really?” you raised an eyebrow. “so those midnight jerk-off sessions because of your dreams about me are just… what? a new coping mechanism?”
his face burned red. “how do you—?!”
“i may have heard a little something.” you sipped your water dramatically. “you’re not as quiet as you think.”
“i hate you,” he muttered under his breath, turning away to hide the growing smirk on his lips.
“no, you don’t.”
you stood up slowly, unsteady but serious, your eyes fixed on his. “if we did this… it would be safe. familiar. no weirdness. just… two people helping each other out.”
“that’s not what this is about for you though, is it?” he said, voice low.
you looked away for a moment before answering. “no. It’s not just that. i want to feel… wanted. i want to be good at this. and yeah… I want to impress jaehyun. but i also… want it to be with someone who won’t hurt me.”
and for a moment, everything was quiet. the only sound was the water boiling and both your hearts pounding.
he exhaled sharply, frustrated — but not just at you. At himself. At this whole ridiculous night.
then, haechan stepped closer.
he leaned over, hands gripping the back of the couch, caging you in — his face mere inches from yours. you froze. Your breath hitched. your fingers clenched around the glass.
then, without thinking, you kissed him.
it was messy. desperate. tasting of beer and heat and something reckless.
he kissed you back — just for a second — his hand cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. but then he pulled away suddenly, breath heavy, pupils blown wide.
“you’re drunk,” he said, voice hoarse. “i'm not kissing you like this.”
you blinked up at him, breathless.
“but if i weren’t?” you whispered.
he didn’t say anything.
but the fire in his eyes gave you all the answer you needed.
and that silence? it was louder than anything either of you had said all night.
that night, haechan slept on the couch, buried under a mess of blankets. you, on the other hand, took his bed — warm with freshly changed sheets and a white oversized t-shirt that smelled like him. he’d also lent you a hoodie for the cold, soft and worn from use.
when he asked if you'd prefer to sleep with the door shut for privacy, you shook your head and left it cracked open. Just slightly. maybe it was a silent invitation. maybe a part of you hoped he'd come in.
but he didn’t.
haechan's self-control was ironclad. he wouldn't touch you — not like that, not when you were drunk, no matter how much you asked. and you had asked. desperately.
by morning, your head throbbed with a brutal hangover. the light leaking through the blinds was cruel and unforgiving. still half-asleep, you blinked at the side table — a glass of water and a neatly placed pill waited for you. of course he remembered.
you padded out into the living room, barefoot, limbs aching. the smell of warm broth hit you first. then the quiet hum of a streamer's voice coming from his computer.
haechan sat hunched at the small dining table, glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly tousled from sleep. he was watching some gaming livestream, lazily slurping noodles from a bowl of ramen. a small pot sat between you, steam still curling up, and beside it — another bowl.
you noticed the sausage in the pot had been sliced perfectly small, just the way you liked. he always remembered little things like that.
your stomach twisted, not with hunger, but something softer. deeper.
without saying anything, haechan patted the seat beside him. you moved toward him slowly, like you were walking through a dream. he didn’t look at you — just kept his eyes on the screen as he grabbed the second bowl, carefully ladling ramen into it while glancing back and forth between the pot and your bowl to avoid making a mess.
you let out a quiet, involuntary giggle.
he glanced up at you then — his lips curved ever so slightly. and that's when you noticed it: his thick-rimmed glasses. the ones he only wore when he was deep into gaming or editing something late at night. they made him look effortlessly cool. casual. comfortable.
and stupidly handsome.
“thanks,” you murmured, your voice still hoarse from sleep and dehydration. “for… last night. picking me up.”
he didn’t respond at first — just nodded once, still watching the screen. no mention of the kiss. no mention of your drunken confession. nothing. just silence.
the elephant between you had never been bigger.
you glanced sideways again and noticed the dark circles under his eyes — deep and tired. he’d barely slept.
“you okay?” you asked gently.
“i’m fine,” he said, pushing up his glasses with a knuckle. “you had it worse.”
you looked down at the bowl in front of you, steam rising like it was trying to fill the silence. you slurped a noodle quietly, chewing.
that’s when you noticed something else.
the shape of his jaw as he ate — sharp, cut like stone under soft skin. you’d seen him eat ramen a hundred times, but this was the first time you really looked. the way his throat moved when he swallowed. the subtle flex of his neck. his collarbone peeking from under his hoodie. even the slope of his nose and the way his glasses rested perfectly above his cheekbones.
he wasn’t just your best friend. he was… really attractive.
painfully so.
and that realization made your stomach clench — not from the hangover, but from something dangerously close to want.
you sat there, fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic of the ramen bowl, the heat grounding you as your mind spun.
“hey…” your voice came out soft, hesitant. “about last night—”
the sound of his chopsticks hitting the table made you jump. it wasn’t loud, but it was enough. enough to cut through the quiet and slice the conversation before it could begin.
haechan didn’t look at you. his jaw tensed as he stared at the table, hands clenched loosely on either side of his bowl.
you froze. unsure.
he inhaled through his nose, controlled, calculated. then, finally, he spoke. “if you’re done eating… maybe you should call a locksmith. for your apartment.”
your stomach dropped.
just like that, the warmth left the room. or maybe it was still there, but it couldn’t reach you anymore.
“o-oh.” you blinked. “yeah… right. my keys.”
he stood up slowly, not rushed, just… distant. like something inside him had gone cold.
you watched him close the laptop screen with one hand, then gather his bowl and yours, moving with quiet efficiency. not meeting your gaze once.
you couldn’t move. couldn’t speak. the shift was too sharp, too sudden. it left you sitting there like a statue, hands still wrapped around the now lukewarm bowl.
“i’ll wash these,” he muttered, almost to himself.
you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. your throat was tight, words caught somewhere between confusion and guilt. you hadn’t meant to ruin the morning. hadn’t meant to push.
but there it was again — the elephant. bigger than ever.
and this time, haechan had chosen to turn his back on it.
you stood up slowly, the chair scraping against the floor. he was already at the sink, rinsing the dishes like it was any other sunday. like nothing happened. like you hadn’t kissed him. like you hadn’t confessed the things that had been burning you from the inside out.
but your eyes were stuck on his back. the slope of his shoulders. the way his hoodie clung slightly at the waist. and still — that feeling. that gnawing ache deep in your chest.
he was right there. and still, he felt so far away.
“haechan…” your voice barely carried.
he didn’t turn around.
you bit your lip. hard. maybe you had crossed a line. maybe he was just being kind last night, and you mistook it for something else. maybe—
“i need to shower,” he said abruptly, setting the last plate down. “you can use my phone to call someone.”
and then he was gone, the bathroom door closing with a click that echoed too loudly in the silence he left behind.
you were alone again.
but this time, it hurt more than it should’ve.
your phone was still dead.
you hadn’t charged it since last night, and at this point, it didn’t matter. you weren’t exactly in the mood to speak to anyone else anyway.
you curled up on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest, arms wrapping tightly around them like they could somehow protect you from the weight pressing on your chest. you stared blankly ahead, trying to piece together what went wrong.
you hadn’t meant to make things weird. you hadn’t meant to cross a line. and yet… you did. and now, all of it felt like a mistake unraveling at your feet.
you chewed on your lip, eyes unfocused.
was it when you asked to stay with him? or when you told him the truth — that you couldn’t stop thinking about him, that you wanted to learn with him because you trusted him? maybe it was the kiss. that moment, hazy and laced with beer, when you leaned in and felt his lips move against yours. he kissed you back. you were sure of it.
but now… maybe it wasn’t enough. or maybe it was too much.
the sound of the bathroom door opening pulled you from your spiral. you looked up, heart stuttering in your chest.
haechan stepped out, steam drifting behind him in lazy clouds. his black t-shirt clung to his skin slightly, still damp from the shower. his sweatpants sat low on his hips, and around his neck hung a white towel, which he used intermittently to ruffle through his damp, dark hair.
he looked surprised to see you still there.
his expression flattened quickly, going unreadable. “you still haven’t called the locksmith?”
you didn’t answer.
he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, towel dragging with it. “y/n…”
but you were already crying.
your face was turned away, but he saw the tremble in your shoulders, the way your hands gripped tighter around your legs. the soft sound of you trying not to make a sound.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your own words. “i ruined everything.”
he went quiet.
“i should’ve never suggested that,” you continued, barely audible. “i didn’t mean to treat you like you’re some— some kind of object. i was just thinking about myself. about what i wanted. and that was selfish. i wasn’t thinking about you.”
he still didn’t move.
“i just—” you swallowed thickly, lifting your head to look at him through blurry eyes. “i wasn’t trying to use you. i swear. i… i just trust you. you’re my best friend. and maybe i took that too far. i just… i feel like i’ve messed everything up.”
you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t even have to say anything. your face this morning said it all.”
for a second, haechan just looked at you. his gaze scanned your face — your tear-stained cheeks, your trembling mouth. the regret swimming in your eyes.
then he sighed and walked closer. dropped the towel onto the coffee table. crouched down in front of you.
“you’re not the only one who’s confused,” he said, voice softer now. “and yeah, maybe last night was messy. maybe we said shit we weren’t supposed to. but… you didn’t ruin anything.”
your breath hitched.
he leaned in, resting a hand gently on your knee.
“you’re not selfish for wanting something. and you’re not using me. i know you.” his voice dropped a bit, more intimate now. “maybe that’s why it’s so hard to pretend it didn’t affect me.”
you blinked. “…what?”
he looked up at you from where he knelt. “you said… kissing could help calm you down. remember?”
your eyes widened.
he tilted his head, a small, careful smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.
“so… if it helps…” he leaned closer, letting his hand trail up your thigh. “i could kiss you again.”
you stopped breathing.
your lips parted, unsure of what to say. but your body moved before your brain could catch up. you leaned in.
he met you halfway.
this kiss was different. slower. more controlled. still tasting faintly of mint and something warm, like cinnamon from the tea he’d made earlier. his hand cradled your cheek this time, thumb brushing softly beneath your eye.
it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t hungry.
but it burned.
and then he pulled back, just barely.
“but only when you’re sober,” he whispered against your lips, breath warm. “only when you really mean it.”
you nodded slowly, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.
“okay,” you breathed. “okay.”
and for now — that was enough.
a few weeks passed.
you had finally gotten a replacement set of keys and returned to your apartment. that weekend was a blur of mundane things—scrubbing your bathroom floor until your arms ached, catching up on overdue sketches, finishing the last pages of an assignment you’d been dodging for weeks. you needed the quiet. the stillness. a chance to feel like yourself again.
but even in your own bed, the cold side of the sheets reminded you of that one night you hadn’t slept alone.
the kiss with haechan had, strangely, softened everything between you. the awkwardness melted away like snow on sunlit pavement. now, you were gentler with each other. your laughter came easier. your glances lingered longer. but the elephant—the weight of what that kiss meant—never left. it simply learned to sit quietly in the corner.
on tuesday afternoon, you were leaving the print room when you nearly ran into jaehyun.
"whoa, careful, pretty girl," he said, catching your elbow with a hand that felt way too steady, too confident.
“sorry,” you chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. jaehyun always looked like he belonged in some magazine spread—jaw carved from stone, lashes too long for someone that smug, silver rings glinting against his fingers like he knew where the light would hit.
“what brings you over here?” he asked, eyeing your sketch tube slung across your shoulder.
“professor cho. needed some stuff for his class. he’s on his power trip again.”
“classic,” he smirked. “listen… we’re having something this friday. low-key. not one of those packed, flyer-in-the-bathroom kind of things. just a curated crowd. people who get it.”
your brow arched. “curated?”
he laughed. “yeah. you know. people with taste.”
you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.
“you should come,” he added, stepping a little closer. “might help with that tension you’ve been carrying around.”
“what tension?” you teased.
he leaned in, eyes flicking down your face. “the kind that makes you think too much. sometimes you gotta stop overanalyzing and just feel it.”
“feel what?”
his smile was maddening. “depends who you end up with.”
you laughed it off, but your cheeks were already warm. maybe he was flirting. maybe he wasn’t. either way, the idea sat in your chest like a dare.
you thought about it all the way back to your place. and later that night, lying on your bed staring at the ceiling, you let yourself wonder what it’d be like to… try. to stop guessing what sex felt like and actually find out. you didn’t want to rush it. but you didn’t want to keep floating in uncertainty either.
and somewhere else on campus, haechan couldn’t stop thinking about you either.
he was standing in the backroom of the burger place, mirror fogged with steam, face damp and flushed from another rush. and there you were. again. in his head. like you’d carved a space he couldn’t seal shut.
he felt pathetic.
like some teenage boy discovering self-pleasure for the first time. except it wasn’t discovery—it was addiction. every night, without fail, his body woke him up with a pulse he couldn’t ignore. his hand would slide beneath the waistband of his sweats, his breath shallow, mind full of you. always you.
and god, those lips.
maybe he should’ve never kissed you.
but the second your mouth touched his, something inside him had snapped. like it had been waiting for that moment all along. you’d kissed him with a kind of messy urgency—too fast, too eager, bumping teeth before finding a rhythm. but then came the softness. the unspoken need. the trust. you had tasted like beer and breath mints and something far too intimate for a one-time thing.
now, he couldn’t un-feel it.
behind the counter, he’d zone out mid-shift, hands wet from dishes, and suddenly he’d remember the way you had moaned into his mouth. the way you had gripped his hoodie like you were holding on for dear life. the way your body had melted into his.
he couldn’t stop picturing you in that black dress, jacket slipping off your shoulder, legs crossed like a sin. or the way your lips had parted when you looked at him like you needed more. like you wanted him.
and at night—his room dark, quiet, too warm—he would close his eyes and imagine your thighs on either side of his hips. your voice whispering his name. your nails on his skin.
he used to admire you from a safe place. used to think of you as a friend, maybe even a muse. now? now he couldn’t look at you without imagining what it would be like to bury his face between your legs. to ruin you a little. just enough.
he hated how much he needed it.
he hated how much he missed the feel of your mouth on his.
he hated that he wanted more.
you were stepping out of your digital illustration class, bag slung over your shoulder, neck stiff from hunching over your campaign poster project. when you exited the building, you spotted him right away—haechan, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hands tucked into his backpack straps like he’d been waiting a while.
you always found him there these days.
“hey,” you said, breathless from the stairs. “thanks for waiting. again.”
he gave a casual shrug. “you make it sound like i have a life.”
“do you?”
“…not really.”
you both smiled.
as you walked side by side, the sun cast long shadows behind you, painting the concrete in soft amber. you weren’t touching. but it felt like you were. something invisible had always linked you two. lately, though—it tugged harder.
“so,” you said, voice light, “i think i’m gonna go to that party. tomorrow”
he blinked. “jaehyun’s?”
you nodded. “he made it sound... exclusive.”
“and you’re going?”
you smirked at his tone. “might be an opportunity.”
he stiffened beside you. “opportunity for what?”
you gave him a look. “you know what.”
he stopped. “you’re really gonna sleep with him?”
your cheeks flared, heart skipping. “no. it’s not like that. i just… maybe it’s time to try. get some answers.”
you watched his face carefully. saw the way his jaw locked. the way his brows twitched.
“but,” you added softly, “if it happens… it happens.”
and then, bold as ever, you turned to him. “unless you still wanna help me.”
his breath caught.
“we already kissed,” you said, eyes steady on his. “feels like we’ve done half the homework. next part’s sex, right? that’s what comes after. and you—you’re the one who used to brag about how good you were at it.”
he looked like you’d cornered him. because you had.
“remember those nights you’d ramble about girls? ‘her tits are insane’, ‘i’d fold her in a second’—that was you, haechan. your words.”
he swallowed, hard. “i didn’t think you were listening.”
“i always listen to you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “especially when you talk about what you like.”
and then, with a wicked grin: “and let’s be honest. guys lose their minds over tits and ass. that’s not complicated.”
his silence told you everything.
you took one step closer, slow and steady.
“so?” you asked again, quieter now. “are you still willing to help me?”
and he didn’t answer.
not with words.
but you saw it in his eyes—the panic, the desire, the war between instinct and restraint.
you had no idea how long he could keep resisting.
but you were getting closer to finding out.
the night felt quieter than usual when they arrived at your apartment. your didn’t speak. the walk there had been filled with those kinds of silences that don’t necessarily feel awkward, but make you too aware of your own thoughts. you walked a few steps ahead of haechan, and he found himself watching you — the way your fingers twisted nervously, the slight tension in your shoulders, the soft sway of your hair brushing your back. he could tell she was unsure. and if he was being honest, so was he.
he’d never seen you like this before. not really. not in this light.
there’d always been this boundary between both of you, this invisible thread that kept everything just on the edge of becoming something else. but lately… it had changed. the way she looked at him lingered a little longer. the way he touched you — in small, passing moments — felt less like habit and more like gravity. and right now, standing in the dim glow of your apartment, he realized just how close you were to crossing that invisible line.
he stands close, but not touching, his gaze fixed on you with a kind of careful intensity that makes your skin warm.
you unlock the door without saying a word, your fingers fumbling slightly. you can feel his eyes on you, not judging, just watching. when you step inside, he follows, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
inside, it’s quiet. you cross the room and sit on the edge of your bed, heart racing.
he doesn’t follow you immediately. Instead, he leans against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his expression unreadable. you feel his eyes on your back as you drop your keys onto the counter, your breath shaky, heart pacing with something you don’t quite understand but desperately want to. when you finally turn around to face him, he’s already watching you — not with that usual teasing smile, but with something heavier, deeper. something that feels like want.
you turned to face him, eyes uncertain, but there was something else behind them. something softer. something raw.
“i want to do it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“still thinking about your plan?” he asks softly, voice calm, like he’s trying not to spook you.
you nod slowly. “i just… i want to be good for jaehyun.”
his jaw tightens just a little, barely noticeable. but his voice doesn’t change. “you’re trying to learn how to please someone else,” he says, stepping closer, “when you haven’t even taken the time to learn yourself.”
you blink, suddenly unsure. “i thought… that’s what you were going to help me with.”
he exhales gently, closing the space between you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. “i will. but only if you let me take the lead. if you trust me completely. no pretending. no rushing. just… you. raw. honest.”
your breath catches in your throat. something about the way he says it, the quiet authority in his tone, the way he looks at you like he already knows your body better than you do — it makes you ache in places you’ve barely dared to explore on your own.
“okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “i’ll do whatever you say.”
his eyes soften. there’s something unspoken there — a tension that’s been building between you for longer than you realized. and now it’s finally unraveling.
“then take off your clothes,” he says, his voice low, steady. “lie back.”
your fingers feel clumsy, nerves fluttering in your chest as you undress. he doesn’t look away. his gaze follows every inch of skin you reveal like he’s memorizing you. but it never feels invasive. it feels… reverent. when you’re finally bare, you lie down, body exposed, unsure, vulnerable. he doesn’t move right away. he just watches, like he’s waiting for you to fully settle into the moment.
“you’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “but i’m not going to touch you until i see that you believe it, too.”
you want to believe it. you want to feel beautiful in your own skin, not just because someone else says it, but because something inside you says you deserve to be. but right now, all you feel is nervous. exposed. seen.
he kneels at the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. “you’re safe,” he murmurs. “you’re in control. i’m just guiding you.”
his hand touches your thigh, light as air, and your breath stutters. the warmth of his palm spreads through you like liquid, grounding and electric all at once. he doesn’t rush. his fingers explore slowly, tracing the curve of your hip, the softness of your stomach, the inside of your thigh. each touch is a question, and your breath is the answer.
when his fingers finally find you, you gasp — not because it’s too much, but because it’s perfect. just enough. just right. he doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. he simply explores, watching every reaction, every shift of your hips, every shaky breath you take like it’s the only thing that matters.
his fingers finally reach where you need them, but he doesn’t go straight for it — no, he teases, tracing along the outer edge of your heat, making you gasp at the sudden jolt of electricity. your hips shift instinctively, seeking friction, but his free hand presses gently against your stomach, grounding you.
“easy,” he murmurs. “we’re not rushing. i want to feel every part of you fall apart.”
your head tips back against the pillow, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers finally slip between your folds — gentle at first, just enough pressure to make your toes curl. he exhales softly, as if the heat of you surprises even him.
“relax,” he whispers. “feel. don’t think about what’s next. just stay with me. here.”
his fingers stroke you with a patience you didn’t know could exist, learning your body like it’s a language only he can understand. you’re wet, embarrassingly so, and he seems to revel in it, the way your body responds to his touch. he circles your clit with slow, practiced motions, his thumb brushing over you with maddening precision. you’re moaning now, soft and quiet, not even realizing the sounds are yours.
“fuck,” he whispers. “you’re soaked.”
your cheeks flush, but any embarrassment is quickly replaced by want as he finds your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make your legs tremble.
you whimper his name, voice barely there, and his response is a low groan against your skin. “that’s it, baby. let me hear you.”
his mouth is everywhere now — at your neck, your chest, sucking marks into your skin like he wants to claim you, mark you, make you his. and god, part of you wants it too — wants to be wanted like this, worshipped like this.
his fingers move lower, one pressing gently at your entrance, testing. “you okay?” he asks, voice soft but thick with desire.
“yes,” you gasp, clutching at his wrist. “please.”
your hips begin to move on their own, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. the pressure is building, coiling deep inside your core, unfamiliar and terrifying and addictive. he slips a finger inside you, slow and gentle, curling just right, and you cry out, your body clenching around him without meaning to.
“h-hyuck...” you cried.
“you like that?” he asks, voice rough now, closer to a groan than a whisper. you nod frantically, unable to form words, your hands gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing.
he slides in slow, giving you time to adjust, watching your face the whole time. his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing in time with the slow push of his finger. your breath stutters, and he leans in to kiss you, stealing the sound from your lips.
you moan into his mouth, overwhelmed, undone, as he adds a second finger, the stretch just enough to make your back arch. he curls them just right, finding that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.
“there it is,” he groans, his lips brushing yours. “fuck, you feel so good.”
you can’t answer. you can barely think. all you can do is feel — the heat building inside you, the pull of release so close you can taste it.
“don’t hold back,” he whispers against your neck. “i want to feel you fall apart for me.”
and when he starts moving faster — fingers pumping deep and sure, thumb pressing harder against your clit — it’s too much. the pressure breaks, crashing over you like a tidal wave. your body tenses, then shatters, crying out his name as you come harder than you ever have before.
he holds you through it, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips. his fingers slow but don’t leave you, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you’re trembling beneath him, boneless and gasping.
“let go,” he murmurs again, lips brushing against your ear. “don’t hold back. i’ve got you.”
his thumb presses harder against your clit, his fingers moving faster, more deliberate, and the pressure explodes inside you, all at once — a wave crashing over your body with violent tenderness. you cry out, shaking, the world narrowing to nothing but heat and light and the sound of his voice grounding you as your orgasm rips through you.
he finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. his breath is ragged, his eyes full of something you don’t quite understand — but you feel it in your chest. raw. intense. real.
“you don’t know what you just did to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.
your body arches, muscles tightening, breath gone, and everything — everything — goes quiet except for the echo of your release.
and when you open your eyes to meet his, you realize something terrifying and beautiful — you don’t think you’ll ever look at him the same again.
your back pressed against the sheets, your skin bare under the dim, golden light of your room, your breath already shaky as haechan settles beside you, fully clothed, fully in control. you should feel nervous, and maybe you do, but it’s buried under something stronger — something warmer. the way he’s looking at you now is enough to make you forget how to breathe.
haechan sits on the edge of your bed, staring at his hand—now clean—like he can’t believe what just happened. his breath is heavier than he wants to admit. his thoughts are scrambled, the feeling of touching you, of showing you something he never thought he’d share, overwhelms him. something inside him burns, something he doesn’t know if it’s frustration or desire, but he feels it with an intensity he can’t control.
when you step out of the shower, your skin still warm from the hot water, he stays there, still. you go through your skincare routine, but every movement seems to echo in him more than it should. the way your fingers brush against your face, the way you move... everything feels different now. he watches in silence, the space between you now thick with something unspoken.
“i didn’t think it would feel like that,” you say softly, breaking the silence. your voice has a tremor you can’t hide. “thank you... for helping me.”
the gesture feels sincere, but there’s something in your eyes that makes him feel exposed. he doesn’t quite understand it. he tells himself it’s fine, that he’s just helping you, that he’s just being there for you. but his body betrays him, his jaw tightens, and his fingers twitch at his side.
“you don’t need to thank me,” he says, his voice quiet, almost too quiet. “you just needed to know yourself. that’s all.”
you pause, pressing moisturizer into your skin, still feeling that soft hum in your body, a low buzz you can’t seem to shake off. it’s from what happened, but you try to tell yourself it’s just the adrenaline, just nerves. nothing more.
“i think i can handle things now,” you reply, keeping your eyes on your reflection in the mirror. “maybe tomorrow at the party... i’ll kiss jaehyun, just see how it goes. no pressure. i don’t want to rush.”
the moment the words leave your mouth, you feel it—the way the air shifts between you two. you don’t mean to look at haechan when you say jaehyun’s name, but you do. and his eyes flicker for just a second, something hard behind them that he quickly hides. he doesn’t react out loud, but his shoulders stiffen, his mouth pressing into a tight line.
“yeah,” he says, his voice controlled, but you can hear the tightness underneath. “sounds like a good idea. you deserve to figure out what you want.”
you smile, trying to lighten the mood, but something in you catches as you look at him. you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing, but you’re not sure why. haechan doesn’t look at you anymore. he stares at the floor, his jaw working like he’s holding something back.
he doesn’t let himself show it. he can’t. you’re his best friend, and he promised to help you, to guide you, not to get caught up in his own feelings. but with every word you speak, with every step you take toward jaehyun, something deep inside him twists.
he’s tasted something he shouldn’t want. and now, the thought of you with someone else—even someone you love—is unbearable.
still, he says nothing. he can’t. because he promised to help you discover yourself, not to confuse you more.
even if every part of him wants to be the only one who gets to touch you like that again.
friday came faster than expected, slipping through the cracks of your week like it had been waiting for you. unlike the other days, this one was bitterly cold—the kind of cold that crept into your sleeves and curled around your spine. haechan had texted you earlier, his usual playful tone dulled by exhaustion. "today i actually have to close, so i’ll be stuck at work late," he wrote, followed by a yawning emoji and a tired little heart. you stared at the message longer than you should’ve, feeling something heavy settle in your chest.
the cold winter air bites at your legs as you step out of the cab, your breath fogging in front of you in soft clouds. the house isn’t just any house—it’s one of the old fraternity houses on the edge of campus, the kind that looks more like a mansion than a place college boys live in. warm light glows from the tall windows, and the low hum of music leaks out from behind the heavy wooden door before it swings open.
jaehyun is already waiting, leaning casually against the doorframe. he looks unfairly good—his hair slightly tousled, a dark turtleneck hugging his figure under a sleek wool coat. he gives you that smile, the one that always makes your stomach twist in ways you’ve never really understood.
“you made it,” he says, stepping aside to let you in.
you settled on a black leather jacket, cropped just above the waist, its silver zippers catching the light every time you moved. underneath, you wore a satin navy blouse, soft and loose, with a deep neckline that hinted without revealing too much. your high-waisted dark jeans hugged your figure just right, paired with heeled ankle boots that clicked confidently against the pavement. a silk scarf, deep burgundy, wrapped around your neck—not just for warmth, but as a finishing touch. your hair was pulled back loosely, tendrils framing your face, and your makeup was soft but sharp—dark liner, flushed cheeks, and a deep berry gloss that caught the chill in the air.
you notice jaehyun’s gaze drop, lingering for a beat too long before he leads you inside.
the party isn’t crowded—maybe twenty people, maybe less. it’s quiet in that expensive kind of way: muted music, low lighting, golden liquor sloshing in crystal glasses. there’s laughter and whispers, but nothing too wild. you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow it feels more intimate than you’d prepared for.
after your second drink, the room gets a little warmer. the vodka-orange is stronger than you thought, but it burns in a good way. you’re not drunk, not like that night, but the edges of your thoughts are softer, looser.
the music is barely audible now, just a low pulse behind your ribs as jaehyun leans in. it happens the way you always imagined it would—with the warmth of alcohol in your veins, the subtle tension in the air, his breath fanning softly against your cheek as his lips finally meet yours.
at first, it’s cinematic.
his hand is at your waist, careful but firm. his lips, smooth and slow, move against yours like he’s done this a thousand times. his cologne is rich—something expensive and clean, like bergamot and wood.
“you look incredible tonight,” he murmurs, voice low. It’s not the first time he’s flirted with you, but tonight it feels more focused.
you laugh lightly, sipping again. “you say that to every girl you invite to one of these,” you tease.
he smirks. “i don’t. just the ones i hope will stay after everyone else leaves.”
that catches you off guard. there’s a pause, the kind that’s heavy with implication. you don’t answer right away. instead, you tilt your head, watching him through the haze of dim lights and liquor.
more intentional. you close your eyes, willing your heart to speed up, your stomach to twist, your knees to weaken.
but none of it happens.
instead, there’s a slow, creeping emptiness that settles over your skin. you taste the sharp tang of beer on his tongue—bitter and stale—and it dulls the moment like a film of dust on something once shiny. it’s not that he’s doing anything wrong. in fact, he’s doing everything right. and maybe that’s the problem. it’s all too perfect. too rehearsed. too... lifeless.
you keep your lips against his a second longer, maybe two, hoping that if you just try, the magic will follow.
but it doesn’t.
what started as something dreamlike begins to dissolve, unraveling into something flat. weightless. forgettable. like kissing a statue—beautiful, yes, but cold. you feel your body slowly disconnect, like your mind is pulling away, shrinking back into itself. you’re kissing jaehyun. jaehyun. tall, broad-shouldered, silver-tongued. the guy every girl fantasizes about.
and yet... nothing.
when you pull away, you do it gently, trying not to show the disappointment pressing against your chest like a bruise. he looks at you with those deep, unreadable eyes, but you can’t meet them for long. something in you already knows: this isn’t what you wanted. maybe it never was.
and then, like clockwork, your thoughts betray you.
because in the silence that follows, in that stretch of breathless stillness, a name rises uninvited in your mind.
haechan.
you blink, shaken by the immediacy of it. why him, of all people? but it doesn’t stop. your mind floods with him, with everything he is and isn’t. jaehyun is all sharp lines and polished edges. he’s winter: sleek and cold, dressed in cashmere and shadows. and haechan...
haechan is sun-warmed skin and mischievous smiles. he’s a burst of color in a black-and-white room. his skin is golden, kissed by sun even in december. you remember the first time he wore glasses in class—how suddenly he looked different. not in a new way, but like you were finally seeing something that had been there all along. it had startled you. he looked good. really good. and you’d stared a little longer than you meant to.
you think about how he always cradles that old gaming console on his lap during breaks, fingers dancing over buttons like it's second nature. how he talks about characters and plots with the same intensity people reserve for politics or love. how he orders black coffee like it's a religion, never anything sweet. how he complains about the cold like it's a personal offense—bundling up in layers and still shivering, nose pink, eyes watery, grumbling but cute.
and you remember something else.
the way his eyes light up when he talks about music. not just any music—he’s always been drawn to layered melodies, harmonies that build slowly, that sneak up on you. you’d caught him once, eyes closed, headphones in, mouthing the words to a song you didn’t recognize. something soft and slow. when you asked what it was, he smiled, kind of shy, and said, “it’s this track i found—it builds so gently, but when it hits, it hits. it makes you feel everything, you know?”
you didn’t then. but now, maybe you do.
because that’s what haechan is like. he builds slowly. gently. he makes you feel everything without trying. without asking. just by being.
you think back to his kiss—that moment in the quiet of his room, when the world felt too small and too loud all at once. his lips weren’t smooth or calculated. they were warm. real. tasting faintly of coffee and breath mints, of nervousness and care. his hands weren’t firm—they trembled just a little. like he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to be. and that kiss? it burned. it lingered. it left something behind in your chest, something heavy and aching.
jaehyun’s kiss, in comparison, feels like water evaporating before it ever touches your skin.
“i need some air,” you say, barely loud enough to hear over the music.
you step away from the kitchen, your hands shaking slightly—not from cold, but from clarity. it’s unsettling, how fast something can shift. how a fantasy can collapse in on itself the moment reality arrives.
you walk toward the front door, ignoring jaehyun’s curious glance. and as the winter air hits your cheeks again, sharp and sobering, you realize the only thing you want right now is warmth.
and the only person who’s ever made you feel it... is haechan.
you step outside, the cold air biting at your cheeks like reality trying to sober you up. it’s quiet out here, except for the faint music pulsing through the windows behind you and the distant sound of traffic. your lips still taste faintly of beer and disappointment, and you try not to let it show on your face—even if there’s no one around to see.
you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly. not just from the cold, but from the feeling growing in your chest. a hollow ache that started the moment jaehyun pulled away and left you with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of something that should’ve felt magical. it was supposed to mean something. you’d wanted it to. for weeks—months even—you thought that maybe this was what you needed. something new. something exciting.
but standing there in the dark, with the wind tugging gently at your coat, all you can think about is how wrong it felt.
how empty.
you sigh and glance down at your phone. 11:45 p.m. haechan probably just got home not long ago—he said he’d be working late tonight, and you remember the slight frown he gave you when you mentioned the party. not because he disapproved. but because he wouldn’t be there.
you hesitate, thumb hovering over his contact. calling him now would make you look ridiculous, wouldn’t it? but god… you need someone. someone who knows you, who doesn’t expect you to be dazzling or mysterious or anything other than exactly who you are.
before you can overthink it again, your thumb presses “call.”
the line barely rings twice before his voice comes through, groggy but alert, like he hadn’t really been asleep yet.
"y/n?" his voice is a little breathless, alarmed. "are you okay?"
you don’t answer right away. the sound of his voice cracks something open inside you. your throat tightens, and your eyes sting, a rush of heat behind your lashes. the words won’t come, caught somewhere between your tongue and your heart.
"hey, talk to me. what happened?"
his concern hits you like a wave. not because of what he’s saying, but how he’s saying it. gently. urgently. like nothing else in the world matters except you right now. like your silence is enough to make his chest hurt.
you swallow thickly, finally managing to breathe, “i… i didn’t know who else to call.”
he exhales slowly, like he’s relieved to hear your voice, even if it’s shaky. “i’m glad you called me.”
and it’s so stupid—so fucking stupid—but that’s when the tears come. silently at first, then all at once. and still, haechan says nothing. just waits, gives you space to fall apart without asking for an explanation.
he always does that. always shows up, always makes you feel like you’re not too much, even when you’re too much for yourself.
and suddenly you realize something—not like a lightning bolt, but like a quiet click, something that was always there, waiting to be noticed. it was never about jaehyun. not really. it was the idea of him. and now, with that illusion shattered, you’re left with the one person who’s been real all along.
the one who always answers the phone. the one who remembers how you take your coffee. the one who listens when you talk about your art for hours and never pretends to be bored.
“can you…” your voice is small, choked, “can you come get me?”
“already on my way,” he says without hesitation.
and just like that, you feel less alone. maybe not okay, not yet—but safe.
safe in the way only he ever made you feel.
you step back into the warmth of the house, wiping your cheeks and pretending the cold air is the only reason your eyes are red. inside, the party hasn’t changed at all—music still pulsing, people still dancing, someone already passed out on a couch. it feels like you left the chaos and walked right back into it, except now it doesn't swallow you whole. now, you’re just… drifting.
you spot jaehyun near the kitchen, leaning against the counter, lazily scrolling through his phone. he doesn’t look up at first, but when he does, his eyes land on you immediately. he straightens, sliding the phone into his back pocket before making his way toward you.
your stomach knots—not because you're afraid, but because you’re not sure what you're supposed to say to the guy you just kissed and then immediately ran away from.
before he even opens his mouth, you raise a hand slightly, your words tumbling out faster than you can stop them.
“i—i’m sorry. i just… i think i was really into the idea of you. like, really into it. but tonight i realized maybe… i don’t know…”
you trail off, eyes dropping to the floor, suddenly very interested in the scuff marks on your boots.
jaehyun quirks a brow, and for a second, it’s awkwardly silent—but then he lets out a soft laugh. it’s not cruel, not mocking. just… amused.
“you know,” he says, arms crossing over his chest, “when we first started talking, i thought you and that guy donghyuck?—were together. like, definitely together.”
you blink, lifting your head. “what?”
“yeah,” he shrugs. “you’d always come to class with him. always laughing, always close. and the way he looked at you? i figured i didn’t stand a chance. but then i saw you alone for a few days, and thought maybe you broke up or something, so…” he gestures vaguely. “i shot my shot.”
you feel your cheeks heat up instantly. “we’re not… he’s not my boyfriend. we never dated.”
jaehyun smirks like he doesn’t believe you, but also like he knows better than to argue. “sure. maybe not technically. but come on.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “you really think there’s nothing going on there?”
you start to protest, but then stop. because he’s not wrong, and you’re too tired to lie—to him or to yourself.
“it’s complicated,” you mutter.
he smiles again, this time softer, more genuine. “well, if it helps… i’m not offended. not at all. i mean, you’re sweet, and you kiss okay—”
“okay?” you gasp, half-laughing, half-horrified.
“hey,” he chuckles, holding up his hands, “it was a mutual ‘meh,’ right?”
you both burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking like a balloon popped with a pin. for the first time that night, you feel lighter.
“i really thought i liked you,” you admit.
“you probably did,” he shrugs. “or… the idea of me.”
“yeah.”
jaehyun gives you a wink. “for what it’s worth, i think you and haechan are cute as hell. even if you don’t know it yet.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. a real, unforced smile.
“thanks,” you say quietly.
“anytime,” he replies, already turning toward the kitchen again. “just… don’t let that one go, alright?”
and as you watch him disappear into the crowd, your phone buzzes in your pocket.
on my way. almost there.
you press your lips together, the ghost of a smile still there.
maybe you didn’t come to this party to kiss jaehyun after all. maybe you came to realize who you should’ve been calling all along.
the cold bites harder now. you’re standing outside again, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves, your phone clutched tight in your hand. every passing second feels like it’s stretching eternity, but then—you spot him. haechan walks up the sidewalk.
haechan was wearing sweatpants, mismatched socks stuffed into crocs, and a hoodie that’s too big even for him. his hair is a mess, fluffed and wild like he just rolled out of bed—and he probably did. you freeze, heart caught in your throat, as he blinks at you sleepily, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm.
you stare at him—at the boy who still showed up, in the dead of night, after a long shift, just because you needed him. and something inside you swells so big, so full, it spills over before you can contain it.
you don’t think—you run.
you crash into him with a force that makes him stumble half a step back, arms instantly wrapping around you, warm and steady. he doesn’t say anything. he just holds you, one hand coming up to stroke your hair gently, his breath warm against your temple.
you press your face into his neck, breathing him in—coffee, fabric softener, something so haechan. your chest heaves, and your eyes sting again.
when he pulls you into his embrace, it feels like the weight of the world finally lifts from your chest. his touch is soft, his fingers brushing against your skin in the most familiar way, like he’s always been there, always meant to be there.
he sighs softly, tugging you closer like he’s scared you’ll slip away. “seriously… what’s wrong with you lately?” he murmurs, voice groggy, laced with concern. “why are you acting like such a crybaby, huh?”
you lift your head, blinking up at him through the tears that won’t stop pooling. your eyes meet his—those deep, sleepy eyes that always seem to see too much—and your lips part as if to answer, but no words come.
so instead, you kiss him.
you pull him down by the collar of his hoodie and press your mouth to his with all the confusion, all the ache, all the longing you’ve buried for far too long. his lips are warm, soft, and as soon as he realizes what’s happening, he kisses you back.
and then, when you press your lips to his, it’s like every other kiss you’ve had fades away into nothingness. the world around you dissolves, and all that remains is the sensation of him. it’s pure, it’s grounding—everything that jaehyun’s kiss wasn’t.
he doesn’t ask questions. he doesn’t stop you. he just holds you tighter, like he’s afraid this moment might shatter.
his hand cradles your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing under your eye, and the kiss deepens—not rushed, not clumsy, just real. like he’s trying to tell you all the things neither of you ever dared to say.
your fingers curl into his hoodie as you pour everything into the kiss—your gratitude, your fear, your guilt, your truth.
it feels like you're being purified, as if every trace of doubt, of confusion, of disappointment, is being washed away by the intensity of haechan’s presence. there’s no bitterness, no strange aftertaste—only him, only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you lose yourself in him. with each second, you realize just how much you’ve longed for this, how much you’ve needed him, even when you didn’t know it. this, this is what real intimacy feels like, and it’s everything you never knew you were missing.
the walk to haechan’s apartment felt different. the night air was biting, and the cold seemed to press against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool the heat that was bubbling in your chest. you didn’t want to be here, not tonight, not after everything that had just happened. but here you were, once again, losing yourself in the warmth of his presence.
“lost your keys again?” haechan asked, his voice playful but with a hint of concern in his eyes as he stepped aside to let you into his apartment. you gave him a sheepish smile, pretending to fumble with your bag and looking down, avoiding his gaze.
“yeah, I’m such a mess,” you murmured, but your words felt hollow, like they were slipping through your fingers as quickly as the night’s events.
he didn’t say anything more, but the slight furrow of his brow told you he was paying attention. it was a game, a little lie that you used to keep yourself near him just a little longer, but tonight, it felt like more. it felt like you were hiding something from him.
inside his apartment, the quiet enveloped you like a blanket, and for a moment, it felt like everything was still. you sat on the couch next to him, the tension between you thickening by the second. it was always easy to talk to him, but tonight, the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. and you knew why—because the taste of jaehyun’s kiss was still fresh on your lips, and it made you sick to your stomach.
“what happened?” haechan’s voice cut through the silence, and you could see it in his eyes: that flicker of concern. he knew something was wrong, and you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for the truth.
you let out a breath, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “jaehyun... I kissed him.”
he stiffened beside you, his body tensing. you didn’t have to look at him to know the change in his expression. it was there in the way his muscles locked up, in the way he barely moved, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the words.
"what? you kissed him?" he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. "good for you, I guess..."
the final sentence hit you like a punch to the gut, but you couldn’t stop now. it was too late to take it back, and the confession felt like it was clawing its way out.
"it wasn’t what I expected," you whispered, avoiding his gaze as your stomach twisted. "it was... bad. it didn’t feel right. at all."
haechan’s hand clenched into a fist, his face hardening, but there was something more in his eyes now—something you hadn’t expected. jealousy. confusion. it was almost as if he wanted to say something but was holding it back. you felt the heat rise in your chest, your own guilt gnawing at you.
"wait—what?" haechan leaned forward, his voice suddenly sharp, though his face was tight with barely-contained emotion. "it was... bad? after all that?"
you nodded slowly, your throat tight as you continued, “yeah. it wasn’t what I thought it would be. there was no passion, no spark. the taste of beer... it was all I could focus on, and I hated it. I... I just couldn’t feel anything.”
the silence that followed felt thick, suffocating. you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. he wasn’t angry—at least, not completely—but he was something else. hurt, maybe? or disappointment? you couldn’t tell.
"so, that’s it then?" his voice was quieter now, the sharpness fading into something softer, more contemplative. “your feelings for him are... gone?”
"yeah," you admitted, finally meeting his gaze, feeling the truth weigh on your shoulders. "they’re gone. I don’t want him anymore. I don’t even want to kiss him again."
the words hung in the air, and you waited for him to respond, your heart racing, unsure of what he would say. when he finally spoke, it wasn’t what you expected.
“you know,” he started, his voice light, almost teasing, “i never liked the idea of you with him. not even for a second.”
you blinked, surprised at his admission. “you didn’t?”
“no,” he said, the edge of his smile almost teasing, though there was something else behind it. “I always thought you deserved someone who wasn’t... like him.”
you frowned, still processing what he was saying, but before you could respond, he continued.
“but now i get it. i see why you would be disappointed. he’s not... him,” haechan said, his voice lowering, the underlying sadness creeping in. "i guess i’m just glad you’re realizing it now. even if it took you kissing him to see it."
a chill ran down your spine as you looked at him, unsure of what he meant. your heart tightened with a strange mix of relief and something else—something more complicated that you couldn’t name yet.
“you’re not... mad?” you asked quietly.
“mad?” he repeated, laughing softly, though there was no real humor in it. “no. why would I be mad? I’m just... relieved. you deserve better.”
“so... what now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
haechan didn’t answer immediately. his eyes lingered on you—soaked in the way your makeup had smudged slightly, how your lips were still a little swollen from that kiss with jaehyun, how your dress had ridden up your thighs from the car ride. he swallowed hard, jaw clenched like he was fighting the urge to say something reckless.
then he said it anyway.
“now i take care of you.”
your breath hitched.
he stepped closer. slowly. deliberately. the kind of approach that made your knees weak. the kind of approach that said he knew exactly what you needed before you did. his hand reached for your waist, pulling you gently toward him, until your bodies were flush against each other.
“unless you don’t want that,” he murmured against your ear, his lips grazing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. “you tell me to stop, and i will. no questions, no pressure.”
you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. Instead, you tilted your head and captured his lips in a kiss—needy, messy, full of everything you hadn’t said for weeks.
he groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your hips, grounding you. but he didn’t rush. he kissed you like he had time. like he was savoring the moment he’d waited for far too long.
“haechan…” you breathed when you finally pulled back.
he looked at you, eyes burning.
“yeah, baby?”
your cheeks flushed. “i… want to go further. i trust you.”
he blinked, just once, and something softened in his expression.
“are you sure?” he asked, voice lower now, rougher, but laced with concern. “i need to hear you say it.”
you nodded, fingers brushing his jaw. “i’m sure.”
he kissed you again, slower this time, like a promise. then he scooped you up effortlessly in his arms, carrying you to his bed, the same way he always carried you emotionally—careful, steady, never letting you fall.
he laid you down like you were precious, and then crawled over you, caging you in with his body, forehead pressed to yours.
“tell me if anything feels too much,” he whispered.
you nodded. he reached over to the nightstand, rummaging for a condom, giving you a look that made your stomach flip.
“Prepared?” you teased softly.
he smirked. “baby, i’ve been in love with you since you spilled coffee on my camera. i’ve always been prepared.”
your laugh faded into a gasp as his hands slipped beneath your dress, touching you with reverence, praise pouring from his mouth like it was second nature.
“so fucking perfect,” he murmured, kissing down your neck. “every part of you. mine to take care of. mine to love.”
his fingers teased you through your panties until you were arching, needy and aching, the room filled with the soft, wet sounds of your arousal.
“you’re already this wet for me? fuck—baby, you're killing me.”
you squirmed, overwhelmed by the sensation, but craving more. then you heard the foil tear, and your heart pounded louder.
the moment he entered you was slow, intense, a stretch that bordered on pain and pleasure, but he was right there—kissing your forehead, telling you how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how proud he was of you.
“you’re doing so good,” he groaned. “so fucking tight. you were made for me, weren’t you?”
you nodded desperately, clinging to him.
he moved slow, deep, rolling his hips so you felt every inch of him. his name fell from your lips like a prayer.
one condom turned into two. then three. you couldn’t stop. neither could he.
sweat clung to your skin, tangled sheets beneath you. he had you on top of him at one point, his hands on your hips as you moved, his eyes never leaving your face.
“that’s it, baby. take what you need. fuck—ride me just like that.”
another position had him behind you, one hand gripping your waist, the other slipping between your legs to make you scream his name as your body fell apart.
by the time the fourth wrapper crumpled beside the bed, you were both panting, dazed and desperate.
you rolled onto your back, breathless. “we’re out.”
you reached for your phone, already sitting up. “I can run down to the 7-eleven—”
he stopped you instantly, pressing a hand to your stomach.
“no, baby,” he said, voice firm. “i’ll go. you stay here. let me take care of it.”
the way he said it—so naturally, so possessively—sent a wave of heat straight through you. you bit your lip, something wicked curling inside you.
“or…” you said, voice dripping with mischief. “we could just… try without one.”
he froze. eyes dark. jaw tight.
“don’t tempt me,” he growled.
you crawled into his lap, pressing your lips to his neck.
“what if i want to?” you whispered. “what if i want all of you?”
he exhaled sharply, head falling back. “fuck… you’re dangerous.”
still, he hesitated—until you ground down on him and whispered, “i trust you, haechan.”
that was all it took.
he didn’t say a word for a moment. just stared at you like you’d set him on fire.
then he kissed you—hard. not rushed, but full of hunger, like you’d just pulled the leash off something he’d been holding back for far too long.
you could feel him against you, throbbing and hot, even without anything between you now. your body tingled in anticipation, in fear, in want. you were bare in every way—and he saw you, accepted you, craved you.
he guided you down onto the bed again, positioning himself between your thighs, his hands cupping your face gently.
“if i do this…” he said, voice low and trembling with restraint, “you need to tell me if anything feels wrong. anything at all, baby.”
“it won’t,” you whispered. “i want you. just like this.”
he lined himself up, one hand steadying your hip, the other brushing hair from your face. when he pushed in—slow, careful, deep—your whole body tensed, wrapped around him like he was the first breath after drowning.
it hurt. just a little. enough to make your lips part with a gasp. but he stopped instantly, not moving, just whispering against your cheek.
“breathe for me, sweetheart. you’re doing so fucking good.”
you nodded, clinging to his shoulders, letting yourself relax little by little until your body opened for him.
he began to move—not fast, but deep and fluid, his voice rasping against your ear with every thrust.
“you feel unreal,” he groaned. “so tight. so fucking warm. shit—you're making me lose my mind.”
your nails dug into his back. you couldn’t think. could barely breathe. all you knew was him—his scent, his voice, his body fitting against yours like you were made for this moment.
“does it feel good, baby?” he asked, barely holding it together.
“yes,” you moaned. “it feels so good, haechan.”
he reached between you, his fingers finding that perfect spot again, circling gently as his hips rolled deeper.
“i want you to cum for me,” he whispered, eyes flicking up to the mirror across the room.
and that’s when you saw it too—the reflection.
the sight of yourself, spread out beneath him, his body covering yours, the way his hips rolled into you, slow but relentless, the way your mouth fell open in pleasure.
you locked eyes with him through the mirror.
“look at you,” he said. “so fucking pretty. you should see what i see. you should see what you do to me.”
you whimpered, already close. the feeling of him inside you, the way he praised you, the reflection showing you everything you felt but couldn’t describe—it pushed you right to the edge.
“you’re mine,” he growled, thrusting deeper. “say it.”
“i’m yours,” you gasped, back arching.
“again.”
“i’m yours, haechan—fuck—i’m—”
the orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave. your whole body trembled as you clung to him, moaning his name like a confession.
he followed with a deep, broken moan, hips grinding into you as he came, his entire body tensing above yours, the sound of your names and curses filling the air as he spilled inside you, raw and unfiltered.
afterward, he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his chest, kissing your forehead with trembling lips.
“i’ve never felt anything like that,” he whispered.
you couldn’t answer. your body was still shaking, your mind a mess of stars and heat.
he held you close, running his fingers up and down your spine.
and for a long time, neither of you spoke.
because nothing needed to be said.
haechan stood by the door, shirtless, hair messy, pulling on his sweatpants with a crooked grin on his face.
“be right back,” he said, grabbing his keys. “we are out of condoms.”
your heart jumped at how casually he said it. like he already knew you weren’t done. like he couldn’t wait to get his hands back on you.
“don’t be long,” you said, your voice a little hoarse, a little needy.
“i’ll run,” he smirked, and you believed him.
the moment the door closed behind him, your body buzzed with anticipation. you felt sore, satisfied… and yet completely empty without him there.
a little while later, you were curled up on his couch wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie, legs tucked under you, sipping water with your thighs still trembling from everything he just made you feel.
your mind ran wild imagining all the things he’d do when he got back.
and oh—he did.
he came back ten minutes later, breathless and grinning, holding a bag with the corner of a box peeking out.
“miss me?” he teased.
“shut up,” you mumbled, biting your lip as he approached you on the couch.
but he didn’t give you time to banter. his mouth was on yours again, hungry and hot, hands already sliding under the hoodie like he’d been starving the whole way back.
“i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he growled into your ear, lips dragging down your neck. “every fucking step i ran, i was thinking about how wet you were. how tight. how you said my name when you came.”
you whimpered, legs parting automatically as he knelt between them on the couch.
but this time—he was different. rougher. more commanding. his eyes darker.
“get up,” he whispered, pulling you to your feet.
“where are we—?”
“shower,” he said. “now.”
you didn’t argue.
the water hit your skin like a shock, but his body was hotter. he pressed you up against the cool tile wall, mouth devouring yours as his hands slid down to your ass, lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around him.
“you’re mine tonight,” he growled against your lips. “no stopping now. you started this—now i’m gonna finish it. again and again.”
your back hit the wall as he slid into you, wet and desperate. the sounds of skin against skin, water splashing, your moans echoing in the steam—filthy and perfect.
you lost count of how many times he made you come.
after the shower, he didn’t even let you dry off.
he carried you—carried—naked and dripping, to the living room, laying you over the back of the couch. your knees barely held as he bent you forward, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding between your legs.
“still so wet?” he teased, running his fingers through your folds. “what did i do to you, baby?”
“you ruined me,” you gasped, pushing back against his hand.
“good,” he hissed. “you’re gonna take me again. right here.”
and you did.
he fucked you from behind on the couch, your moans muffled in the cushion, your fingers clawing at the leather. he didn’t let up—he used you, praised you, told you how fucking hot you looked taking him like that.
then the kitchen.
you barely made it there.
he bent you over the counter, spreading your legs with a low groan.
“you trust me?” he asked, voice low and rough.
“yes,” you breathed.
“good,” he said, sliding in again, slow and deep. “because i'm not holding back anymore.”
he fucked you while gripping your hips, your body slamming gently into the counter with each thrust, your breath fogging the cold surface.
“so fucking perfect,” he groaned. “you were made for me.”
then came the dining table.
you ended up on it—legs open, arms thrown over your head, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra. he kissed every inch of your body, left love bites on your thighs, praised every moan and whimper you gave him.
you didn’t even remember how many condoms you went through until—
“fuck,” he muttered, breathless, sweaty. “last one’s gone.”
the apartment was thick with heat and the smell of sex. your bodies glistened with sweat, tangled over the polished wood of the dining table. haechan’s chest was pressed to your back, his arms wrapped tightly around you as both of you struggled to catch your breath.
it wasn’t until the digital clock on the microwave blinked 4:02 AM that either of you realized how much time had passed.
“shit,” you whispered with a soft laugh, still breathless.
“yeah…” haechan’s voice was husky, worn out, but content. he pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “we’ve been at this for hours. you okay?”
you nodded, eyes half-lidded, still processing everything. your body felt sore, used in the best possible way, and your heart was floating somewhere between exhaustion and complete peace.
he helped you off the table, careful and gentle now, holding you by the waist as you stumbled a little, your legs wobbly. you both laughed quietly at that, and he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.
“come on,” he murmured. “let’s clean up and go to bed before the sun comes up.”
the warmth of his bed was a balm against your tender skin. after a quick rinse in the bathroom and slipping into one of his worn shirts, you curled up against him under the covers. his fingers traced light circles on your back as you lay there, your leg thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around you like you were something fragile and precious.
“you okay?” he asked again, softer this time. there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice—like he was afraid this had been too much.
you nodded into his chest.
“i’m more than okay,” you whispered. “i feel… safe. and really, really good.”
he exhaled a little laugh of relief and kissed the top of your head. the silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was peaceful. comforting. like your bodies had said everything your mouths didn’t need to.
soon enough, your breaths synced. his hand stayed on your waist as you both drifted off to sleep.
the next morning came slowly.
soft rays of sunlight filtered in through the curtains, painting lazy golden streaks across the sheets. you blinked awake first, still pressed against his warm body. his hand was splayed over your stomach, holding you close, and his legs were tangled with yours beneath the covers.
you didn’t want to move.
there was a quiet hum in your chest, that afterglow still lingering like a dream. you turned slightly to look at him—his hair was messy, lips parted, eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks. peaceful. beautiful.
you shifted a little, and he stirred, eyes barely opening.
“mmm,” he murmured. “you’re still here.”
“where else would i be?” you whispered.
he smiled, still half-asleep, and pulled you closer.
“good,” he said, voice low and raspy. “i want you right here. just like this.”
you melted into him, your heart full, your body still tingling in places, and thought maybe—just maybe—waking up like this with haechan could become your favorite part of any day.
haechan made breakfast in nothing but his boxers, hair still messy from sleep, humming some old song as you sat on the counter, wearing only his oversized t-shirt and the glow he’d left on your skin.
there was laughter. soft jokes. syrup on your lips that he licked off with a grin.
and when you finally curled back into the couch, your head on his shoulder, legs tangled under a shared blanket, it didn’t feel strange.
it didn’t feel like you’d crossed a line.
it felt like you’d stepped into something deeper.
he looked at you then, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, and whispered:
“you know… i think we’re still us.”
you smiled, heart fluttering.
because he was right.
maybe in the end, sex doesn’t ruin the friendship— it transforms it.
content: fluff, comfort, recently established relationship, slice of life, skinship, quiet love, clingy, soft intimacy, attentiveness.
note: posting small scenarios - suggestions are always welcome if there’s something specific you’d like to read ⭐️
you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed, small bottles scattered around you, two unopened face masks resting near your knee when you hear the door open.
still reading the back of one packet even though you’ve already decided you’re using it anyway.
“you look busy” mark says from the doorway.
he’s just standing there, hair still a little damp, sleeves pushed up, taking in the scene without saying anything else.
“i am”
he smiles and walks over, stopping right in front of you. his eyes move over everything on the bed.
“…what is all this?”
you hold up one of the packets, turning it so he can read it. “i bought these today”
mark leans down a bit to look at it properly, eyes scanning the packaging, then flicking back up to your face.
“for you?”
“for us”
he shifts closer, his fingers brushing your knee before settling there. “so… what do i do?”
you pat the spot in front of you. “sit first”
he does, knees bumping into yours, closer than necessary. his hand stays where it is, thumb moving against your leg.
you open one of the masks and hand it to him. he just stares at it.
“…why does it feel like jelly?” he murmurs.
“wait”
he lets you, leaning in without hesitation, watching your hands.
“close your eyes”
you place the mask over his face, adjusting it carefully, smoothing it along his cheeks. he stays still, lips parting slightly before pressing together again.
“is it on right?” he asks softly.
you adjust the edge near his jaw, your fingers lingering for a second. “almost”
“…okay”
“done”
“how do i look?”
you tilt your head, pretending to inspect him seriously. “hmm… i think it’s working”
“that doesn’t answer my question”
“you look cute”
he looks down for a second, smiling to himself. “good. am i allowed to move?”
“barely”
“that sounds stressful”
“you’ll survive”
you open your own mask next, but before you can put it on, he reaches out.
“wait, let me—“ he says.
you pause, handing it to him.
mark takes it carefully, unfolding it with a bit more focus than necessary. “don’t move”
he leans closer, placing it over your face, hands gentle as he adjusts it. fingers brush along your cheeks, your temples, the side of your face…
“is it straight?” you ask.
his eyes scanning your face.
“…yeah” he says quietly. “it’s perfect”
“thank you”
he just stays there, looking at you.
“what?” you ask softly.
mark shakes his head, a small smile forming. “nothing”
he leans forward and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
you let out a soft laugh, your hands automatically going to his shoulders. “you didn’t even ask”
“i didn’t think i had to”
“you didn’t.”
you adjust your legs around him, arms resting loosely around his neck, then pull back just enough to look at him.
“what?” he asks, voice low.
you don’t answer, just lean in and press a gentle kiss to the mole on his neck.
“…hey” he murmurs, a small smile slipping in. “what was that?”
you kiss the same spot again, slower this time.
“I’m busy” you whisper.
“doing what?”
you don’t rush, pressing another soft kiss to his neck.
“…okay” he breathes out, trying not to react too much. “you’re serious”
you hum in response, continuing, your lips brushing his skin again.
mark leans his head back just a little, giving you more space without thinking about it.
“should i… stay still?” he asks.
“yeah”
“okay”
he listens, staying still except for the way his fingers move slightly against your sides.
every time you pull back just a bit, he looks at you and softens again when you lean in.
“…you’re gonna do all of them?” he asks quietly.
“every one i can see”
“okay”
your thumb brushes the inside of his middle finger before you bring his hand up and press a soft kiss there.
“that one feels different” he murmurs.
you keep holding his hand, your fingers threading with his for a second before lifting his arm a little.
“there’s more” you say quietly.
he nods, eyes on you. “i know”
“…you’re really gentle” he says.
you glance up at him. “you’re just noticing?”
mark smiles a little. “nah”
you shake your head, smiling, and lean in again.
“wait”
“what?”
he points lightly to another spot on his arm. “you missed one”
“you’re helping now?”
“i don’t want you to skip any”
you lean in and kiss that one too.
“thank you” he says, almost under his breath.
“…you’re really cute” you say.
he shakes his head immediately. “no”
“yes”
mark leans in then, trying to kiss you, but the masks get in the way and it ends up clumsy.
you both pause for a second, then laugh at the same time.
“that didn’t work” you say.
“i can fix it” he insists, trying again, this time pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.
it’s still not perfect, and that makes you laugh more.
“i’m trying” he murmurs, smiling, his arms wrapping around you again.
“i can see that”
“we should do this again” he says.
“we will”
“like… soon”
you tilt your head. “you liked it that much?”
“i like this… i like when you do things like this”
you stay there with him, talking about nothing, laughing when he tries to kiss you again and fails because of the masks, not caring that it’s messy, not caring about anything except the way he keeps holding you.
★ PAIRING: cheerleader!Jaemin x cheer captain!Reader
☆ WORD COUNT: 4k
★ GENRE(S): smut
☆ SUMMARY: Jaemin can't fit into his cheer uniform anymore because he's been working out too much. While you can't help but admire his muscles, you realize the entire team is admiring him too and that's not going to fly. You decide you need to take action and get Jaemin a new uniform
☆★ NOTES: The concept of cheerleader Jaemin is just too hot to me so I had to spin the block on this one. Continuation of Team Spirit! that can be read as a stand alone!
────୨ৎ────
Jaemin has been bulking up lately. He had always been really into fitness and a bit of a gym rat, but since joining the cheerleading squad, he hadn't had time for his regular workouts, Now with competition season over he was back at it and you couldn’t help but notice the results. His chest looked fuller, and his arms rippled with defined muscle, showing off all the dedication he’s been putting in.
But as much as you loved his body, it was definitely time for him to size up his uniform.
His chest was starting to press tightly against the front of his shirt, the stretchy spandex doing little to hide the swell of his muscles. The uniform shirt he wore was a crop top that showcased his abs. That was a sight that was already causing issues, stealing your attention at the wrong time. But this? This was far beyond what anyone should have to deal with. The fabric was strained to its limit, and each breath he took only made it worse.
You doubted that going up a size in spandex would make much of a difference, but something had to give—he was practically bursting out of his uniform. You couldn't take your eyes off him.
Standing on the opposite side of the gym, you watched him closely as he moved. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his toned arms flexed beneath a snug black spandex top. To be honest, it was quite a sight. You enjoyed observing the way his body moved in the uniform, but then reality hit when you noticed the rest of the team admiring his outfit as well.
The fun was over, that shirt had to go. You weren’t deaf to the whispers that drifted around the locker room when your teammates thought you weren't listening. You overheard them making comments about how good he looked. You had to forcibly push aside the twinge of jealousy that threatened to creep in, reminding yourself to stay composed and maintain a level head. You were captain, you couldn't just go on a jealous rampage.
You did eventually find a bit of solace in making those who had whispered about him run extra drills. It felt good to dish out some consequences for their gossip. Plus, the glare you shot their way throughout practice was enough to let them know you were aware of their little comments. After that, suddenly no one had anything to whisper about anymore.
Strange how that works.
You walked into the locker room after practice, a small bag in your hand. “I ordered you a new top,” you said casually, trying to avoid eye contact. Jaemin was always able to read you like a book and you were beyond embarrassed at the fact you couldn't focus during practice because of his boobs. He did not need to know what thoughts swirled around in your head.
Jaemin's head turns towards your direction, a curious expression on his face. "What's wrong with the one I have now?" he asked.
You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "It's getting stretched out. It's time for a new one."
He looked unimpressed, clearly not buying your excuse but after a moment of silence, he shrugged and said, "Okay."
It wasn’t until Jaemin put on the new uniform top that you realized the mistake you had made. As he stood in front of you in the locker room, the shirt hung loosely around him, nearly swallowing his athletic frame. The baggy sleeves sagged at his arms, and the hem of the top drooped far below his waistline. You could see the dissatisfaction written all over his face as he scrunched up his nose in distaste.
"Uh, this… isn’t really the right fit, is it?" he asked, trying to tug at the fabric to adjust it.
"I swear it looked smaller online." You mentally kicked yourself for not double-checking the sizing.
Jaemin turned to face you fully, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "So, what? I’m just going to run around in a tent now?" His tone is playful.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "I’ll order you something else. I promise I’ll get the right size this time."
"I just don't see what's wrong with my old one," he said, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside.
You hesitated, trying to find the right words as you eyed him. "D-don't you think the other one is a little tight?" you ask.
Jaemin shrugged, clearly unfazed. “Feels the same to me.”
You took a breath, trying to be subtle. “In the chest area,” you emphasized, hoping to steer the conversation in the right direction, trying to give him as much of a hint as possible without sounding too blunt.
He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he glanced down at his torso. “Is that so?”
“It’s just that your old one hugs your body… a little too well, you know?”
Jaemin's eyes widened as he caught on. "Ohhhh...I see.” A smirk played on his lips. “Then I think it fits perfectly."
For a moment, you were at a loss for words. The way he looked at you—the confidence mixed with mischief—made your stomach flutter. You felt yourself blush, caught between wanting to call him out and being completely distracted by how effortlessly charming he was. "I'd agree if the entire team didn't think the same thing," you muttered, trying to deflect.
Jaemin's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Kinda like how the gym feels about you and your cute little spandex shorts during summer practice?" he asked, voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
You felt your face heat up as he mentioned your shorts. You'd always thought they were just a comfortable choice, until the day he told you how much they showed off your ass and banned you from wearing them. "They're comfy," you said defensively, trying to brush it off.
Jaemin raised an eyebrow.
Okay, whatever," you huffed, eager to shift the topic. “But back to the point, this was supposed to be about finding you something that actually fits.”
"So what if it's a bit stretched out now? It's got character. Plus, it's like my lucky shirt now."
You shook your head, laughing. "Lucky shirt?" You echoed, incredulous.
He nodded, a fierce look on his face. "You can't keep your eyes off me when I wear it, so it must be lucky,” he says.
You groaned inwardly; he was going to be so insufferable in that shirt now. Why had you ever mentioned how it affected you? You could already tell he was going to exploit this newfound power over you.
Rolling your eyes with a shrug, you replied, “Whatever.”
You’d just have to come up with another plan to get rid of that shirt once and for all.
—
Ever since you discussed your thoughts on Jaemin's shirt, you could swear it had gotten tighter. You were convinced that the shirt held some sort of magical power of enchantment because you couldn’t focus. You were missing cues and forgetting routines left and right, all while Jaemin pranced around in his annoyingly snug shirt.
It was almost as if he was wearing a compression shirt that not only accentuated his chest but also highlighted his stupidly disgusting slutty waist that you definitely didn’t want to grip onto while he pounded you into the nearest surface. You were losing your grip on reality, and all of it was thanks to him and that evil shirt.
You found yourself watching Jaemin when you really shouldn’t. He was in the middle of his routine, and you had only seconds left before your cue to come in on the opposite side of the mat. You didn’t have time to think about your face buried in his chest, or how firm it would feel under your fingertips.
Your teammates began to notice your distraction, and whispers started to circulate about your sudden lack of focus. "Dude, you okay?" one of them asked, nudging you playfully. You forced a smile, trying to brush it off, but you knew you weren't fooling anyone.
Suddenly you hated cheerleading. If it weren't for cheer, Jaemin would never have become a cheerleader, he wouldn't be sporting that top, and these thoughts wouldn’t be plaguing you now.
You missed your cue because of course you do, and the irritation in Seungkwan's expression was immediate.
“Okay, how about we take a break? I feel like everyone isn’t checked in today,” he said, his gaze sweeping over you with a pointed intensity. You roll your eyes instantly regretting making him your second co-captain next to Nayeon.
As you step off the mat you go straight to your water bottle, you need to cool down. Your eyes naturally find Jaemin and you swore you saw a brief smirk flicker across his face, only to vanish just as quickly. Did he think this was a game? Did he find it funny?
You would show him funny.
When you showed up in the spandex shorts Jaemin had banned you from wearing to practice, there was no humorous twinkle behind his eye anymore when he'd caught sight of you. His face fell, eyes glued to your thighs.
“Oops,” you said playfully, walking past him with a bounce in your step. As you moved, you could feel his gaze lingering. "Let's have a good practice today, everyone!" you called out to the floor
Nayeon leads the stretches, and you follow along with the rest of the team on the floor. You don't bother pulling the hem of your shorts down when they roll up, knowing full well what it did to Jaemin. You sit on the floor with your legs straight out Infront of you in a seated pike stretch. You reach out to touch your toes, tilting your head just enough to catch Jaemin’s reaction in the corner of your eye. Just as you expected his eyes haven't left your ass since you walked into the gym.
You pulled yourself back up straight, trying to play it cool as seungkwan announced for everyone to find a partner for stretches. Jaemin was at your side in a heartbeat.
“Next break, you’re changing out of those,” Jaemin says firmly, leaving no room for argument. He pulls you to stand in front of him, your back to his chest. His grip on your waist is strong. His hands travel and In one fluid motion, he grabs your thigh spreading your legs apart, then slides down the back of your thigh until he hooks under your knee. With a gentle lift, he raised your leg into a heel stretch, his fingers gliding sensually up your leg until they rested at your calf.
“Says who?” you challenged, trying to maintain your composure. “These are comfy, and they let me stretch to my full potential.” You tilt your head to look at the position he’s bent you into.
He’s so close that you can feel his breath against the back of your neck, the heat radiating from his body pressing against you. You could feel that he’s hard pressed up against you.
“Also, I don’t remember asking for your permission to wear whatever I want,” you add.
Jaemin stretches your leg a little further, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make you feel the burn.
“You’re going to take them off, or I'll do it for you.”
As you stretched, a whine escaped you, and your lips instinctively pouted. "Fuck you," you spat out.
His response came swiftly: "Watch your mouth." He spits back.
He slowly lowered your leg, and once you caught your breath, he met your gaze with a challenging look in his eye. Jaemin was the sweetest thing but he would always be quick to put you in your place when you step out of line. He gestured for you to drop into a split, and with a subtle dip of your head, you secretly rolled your eyes but reluctantly obeyed.
You ease into a split and Jaemin situates himself on his knees behind you, his body leaning against yours in a warm press of heat. He gently pushes you forward, his hand gliding down to rest on your lower back for support. You lean into a saddle split, hands splayed out in front of you as you stretch forward.
Jaemin adds pressure and you're forced to delve even further into the stretch. His body provides an added push against yours, testing your limits. You grit your teeth, drawing on your flexibility to hold the position, but you could feel the burn.
It's not easy to hold the position, even with how flexible you are. You're used to bouncing back up, shaking out your muscles, and moving on to the next stretch. But with Jaemin's guidance, you're forced to push your boundaries and remain still, letting your body adapt to the demands of the stretch.
"Jaemin let me up." You huff.
“Gonna take ’em off?” he quips, a teasing lilt in his voice.
“Fine!” you relent.
Jaemin allows you to sit up and once you catch your breath he helps you stand. He looks you in your eyes as he tugs on the hem of your shorts, pulling them down just enough after they’ve rolled up, raising an eyebrow at you in a silent dare. "Keep them that way," he stated with an air of authority, making your cheeks burn in annoyance.
“Okay, guys, back to your positions! We're going to start routines soon!” Nayeon called out.
With Nayeon and Seungkwan in charge of leading stretches, it was now your turn to step up and guide the rest of practice. You burn holes into the back of Jaemin's head as he joins up with Shotaro as practice officially starts.
—
After everyone else had cleared out, you found yourself cornering Jaemin in the locker room.
“This isn’t fair,” you grumble, crossing your arms. “If I can’t wear my shorts, you aren’t allowed to wear that stupid crop top.”
Jaemin turned to you, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Is that what this is about? Can’t keep your eyes off me, so you decided to pull this stunt? I thought you were more mature than that, baby." His smirk widened as he leaned against the locker, arms crossed over his chest. The way that obnoxious top clung to his newly bulked-up frame was maddening.
“Newsflash, Jaemin. I wear those because they’re comfy.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you stepped closer to confront him. "You wear that shirt because you like, some kind of attention whore. How do you even breathe in that thing?” Your voice echoed slightly in the empty locker room, bouncing off the tiled walls.
His laugh was low and utterly infuriating, the casual way he dismissed your frustration only stoking the fire inside you. He pushed off the locker, closing the distance between you in two easy strides. Suddenly, his hands landed on your hips, warm and firm, pulling you close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.
“And what if I am?” Jaemin murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you firmly in place. “It got your attention, so what are you going to do about it? You gonna punish me for it?”
Your breath hitched. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to be mad at him. But the way he looked at you, all dark eyes and that cocky grin, made it hard to think straight.
“Maybe I will,” you shot back, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your voice wavered just a fraction, betraying the confidence you were trying to project.
Jaemin’s smile deepened, and before you could react, he spun you around, his body pressing your back against the cold metal lockers. He pinned you there, solid and unyielding. One hand slid up your side while the other gripped your thigh, lifting it over his hip slightly so he could press himself closer.
“Go ahead,” he dared, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Punish me.”
The challenge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel how hard he was pressed against you, and it took everything in you not to squirm. Instead, you raised your chin defiantly.
“Don’t think I will?,” you warned, though your voice came out softer than you intended.
Jaemin’s lips curved into an amused smile, and he leaned in, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “You won't.”
His hand slid to your hips, fingers slipping past the waistline of your shorts to toy with you. You bit your lip to stifle a gasp, but it escaped anyway, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.
“Let me hear you baby, I know.” he teased, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your clit. “I can tell, you know. Every time you look at me during practice. You get that naughty look in your eyes when you know you're supposed to be focusing. Bad girl.” He coos.
“Shut up,” you muttered, though your protest lacked any real conviction. His touch was too distracting, his words too close to the truth.
Jaemin chuckled, pulling his hands from your shorts. “Make me…or are you done pretending to be in charge.”
That did it. You shoved him back, pressing your palms against his chest. He stumbled slightly, his back hitting the row of lockers opposite you.
For a moment, you just stood there, breathing heavily, staring each other down. Then, without thinking, you closed the gap between you, grabbing the hem of his stupid uniform top and yanking it up.
Jaemin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. You tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. You let your gaze roam over his body, taking in the changes that had occurred. His shoulders were broader than before, his chest more defined. The faint trail of hair leading from his navel downward made your mouth go dry.
“Happy now?” he asked, his voice rough.
You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in, catching his bottom lip between your teeth in a quick, punishing bite. He hissed, but his hands immediately found your hips again, pulling you flush against him.
“Not even close,” you whispered against his mouth before kissing him properly, hard and demanding. Jaemin responded instantly, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands roaming your body with a urgency that made your head spin.
Somehow, you ended up on the bench, his weight pressing you down into the hard wood. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way lower, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just above your collarbone.
“Jaemin,” you gasped, your voice barely audible.
He lifted his head, meeting your eyes for a brief moment before capturing your mouth again. His hands slid under your shirt, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sensation made you moan into the kiss, and Jaemin grinned against your lips.
“Not so bossy now huh captain?” he murmured.
You glared at him and opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue as his hand slipped lower, past the waistband of your shorts. His fingers brushed against the slick warmth between your legs, and you couldn’t stop the tremble that ran through your body.
“Fuck,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders.
Jaemin’s smile was downright predatory as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. “You’re so wet already,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “All because of me? or maybe it was because of that crop top you claim to hate so much? You like it, admit it.”
You wanted to deny it, to push him away and regain some shred of control. But instead, you tilted your hips, silently urging him on. His fingers dipped inside you, slow and deliberate, and your head fell back against the bench.
“Jaemin,” you moaned, his name becoming a broken chant on your lips. His thumb circled your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your core. You writhed beneath him, desperate for more, but he kept his pace agonizingly slow, drawing out every sensation until you thought you might explode.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice dark and commanding.
You shook your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction but Jaemin wasn’t having it. He withdrew his hand, leaving you aching and empty, and propped himself up on his forearm above your head to look down at you.
“Say it,” he demanded, his eyes burning into yours.
You swallowed hard, your pride warring with the need coursing through your veins. Finally, you gave in, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I want you. All of you. Now.”
Jaemin didn’t need to be told twice. Jaemin swiftly strips you down, his hands moving with practiced ease. The cold wood of the bench bites into your back as you make contact, sending a shiver down your spine. The locker room was cool and you can’t help the goose bumps that prickle your skin. He reached for the waistband of his pants, shoving them down just enough to free himself. Once he's between your legs you reach out, gripping him in your warm palm and stroking him over a few times. His mouth hangs open in pleasure. He watched, breathless as you brush his tip against your entrance. Once you dip the head in he's taking over again and pushing his hips forward to drive into you in one smooth motion. The gasp that escaped your lips was swallowed by his mouth.
He starts at a brutal pace, not in the mood for anymore games. His hips snap against your ruthlessly and you have to wrap your legs around his waist to stop yourself from sliding off the bench. Jaemin groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he moved.
“You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
Your body trembles as the pressure builds inside you. He slips a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. You arch your back in response. As your legs began to tremble, you felt Jaemin's smile pressed against your skin when he kissed your shoulder.
“That's right baby. Is this what you needed?” he murmured between choppy breaths, his voice low and sultry.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his unrelenting thrusts and cruel fingers. You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mouth opens to respond; you know better than to remain silent, but nothing comes out. You nod your head lazily instead.
He shakes his head at you disapprovingly. “You know that's not good enough princess. Use those fucking, words.” He punctuates each of his words with a toe curling thrust of his hips as he pumps into you.
“Yes! F–fuck, don't stop.” You cry.
“Mmm,” He moans before leaning down to kiss you again. The kiss is wet and full of tongue as he licks into your mouth. “Gonna fill you up.”
When you finally came, it was with a cry that echoed off the walls, your nails scratching down his back. Jaemin followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you. You shiver as his hot seeds spill inside of you. When he pulls out his eyes watch as his cum drips out of you. You reach down in between your legs and collect his cum before pushing it back inside of you with a moan.
“Don’t want to waste a drop.” Your voice comes out in a whisper.
Jaemin eyes you hungrily before he closes his eyes to take a deep breath. He needed to calm himself before he had you pinned up against the lockers next.
Jaemin gets up before he decides to have you again, getting off the bench to rummage through his bag. He comes back to you with a towel and cleans you up. He gathers your clothes and helps you dress again before following suit.
“So,” he said after a while, his voice still rough, “how do you really feel about the crop top”
You turned to look at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?” You couldn’t wrap your head around how he effortlessly switched from driving you wild to being your sweet boyfriend in an instant.
He laughed, a warm, rich sound that seemed to fill the chilly locker room, and pulled you closer. “Dead serious.”
You sighed, unable to meet his gaze. “I… I like it.” You admit.
Jaemin's smile widened, but just as he was about to respond, you jumped in to clarify.
“BUT! That doesn’t mean I’m letting you wear it to practice. We’re going to order you the correct size, and as for that one,” you said, your gaze narrowing playfully at the shirt still lying on the floor, “that one is for my eyes only.”
you are on your last day of exams before christmas break, and you’ve been so caught up with studying and finishing all your assignments just so they wouldn’t burden you later—clearly neglecting your boyfriend, jeno.
which you didn’t even realize.
you guys haven’t talked for two days straight, and since he wasn’t texting or talking to you first, you assumed he also wanted to focus on studying for exams.
but you were wrong.
finally, the last exam of the semester is done! you’ve given your all, and honestly—you don’t give a shit anymore whether you get good grades or not. you’re already too stressed to even care about your school’s bullshit.
you’re definitely ready to enjoy some healing and relaxation time.
just the thought sleep makes your mood better.
well, you and your friends have been planning this villa trip together. and the ones coming are minjeong, ningning, aeri, jimin, hyuck, renjun, jaemin, jeno, and you.
the crew is set, and you guys are ready to go.
you guys decided to rent a van, leaving at noon so you'd arrive at the villa in the evening.
you sat next to jeno the whole ride, but he was very quiet, not talking to you at all. he had his airpods on and was reading a novel he borrowed from you a week ago, so you left him alone, happy enough that he was actually reading something you recommended to him.
you’re honestly so terrible at reading jeno’s mood, especially when he's angry/sulking, cause he’s not the type to show those kinds of emotions blatantly. so you don't actually know if something is bothering him.
you ended up sleeping the entire car ride, not realizing your head was resting on jeno’s shoulder the whole time. he stayed completely still, letting you rest on him because he knew how tired you were.
once you arrived, jeno gently woke you up.
“y/n, we’ve arrived. the others already went in,” he said, softly caressing your cheek.
“hmm? we’re here?” you mumbled, voice raspy, still half asleep.
“mhm.”
seeing how cute you looked, jeno couldn’t help but press a small kiss to your cheek.
“m’kay…”
you both got out of the car and brought your bags inside. everyone had already picked their rooms—the girls shared one, and the guys shared another.
after unpacking, jaemin, renjun, and hyuck were busy playing games.
you thought jeno was with them too, but he was nowhere to be found.
“hyuck, have you seen jeno?” you asked.
“JAEM—THERE’S SOMEONE ON MY LEFT! DEFEND ME, FOR GOD’S SAKE—what?” hyuck yelled before turning to you.
“have any of you seen jeno? he’s nowhere to be found.”
“haven’t seen him since we unpacked,” jaemin said, shrugging.
“same,” hyuck added.
“i think he went outside to swim? i saw him wearing his swimming trunks,” renjun said.
i know it's very cruel of me to post this a couple of day's after mark's departure from sm and all nct units, but this jeno drabble has been sitting in my draft for so longgggg, so i decided to post it.
wishing mark nothing but the best moving forward. i truly hope this decision brings him happiness and comes from a place that feels right for him. <3
thank you guys for reading this, and I hope you all enjoyed it !
i love you, mark lee. i hope you know we will always support you in your next endeavor 💚
You like to stare at your boyfriend’s face when he’s sleeping.
He calls you creepy, but there’s something so serene in watching him when he has no sense of the obligations he holds on his shoulders or the weight of the burdens he carries. You gaze at him as the sunlight peeks through the curtains, smiling when the corner of his mouth twitches.
“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to regret it.”
You giggle. “You just look so cute, that’s all.”
One eye peeks open. His hand instinctively wraps around your waist, tugging you close to his frame and pulling up the comforter to huddle you in his warmth.
“How often are you doing this?” He asks groggily, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Just go back to sleep.”
“How can I when I know you’ll be staring at me the whole time?”
You laugh, slipping a hand underneath his shirt to run your fingers over his stomach. You’re instantly engulfed in happiness, in the feeling that you’ve chosen the right person to love. You could stay in this moment forever with him.
“Do you know how hard you work, Mark Lee?”
He hums softly like he doesn’t want to broach the topic this early in the morning. You’ve had arguments before about how overworked he is, how he should take a break, and this list goes on and on. You understand why he would rather not get into it today.
“I like seeing you when you’re just… you. If you want to call me creepy again, so be it.”
His lips press against yours and you sigh, wishing you could savor this a little longer before you have to get up and start your day.
“You can stare at me for as long as it makes you happy, baby,” he murmurs, slowly drifting back to sleep.
You brush your fingertips over his jaw, smiling.
You hope he never has to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders ever again.
synopsis. she swears he's the most infuriatingly, sparkly person around — too bright and positively suffocating. But for Jaemin? He's intrigued by her; the gloomy princess frog who he wishes to befriend.
warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, use of pet name (baby, cutie, etc.), unprotected sex, almost getting caught, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, really fluffy.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ A/N: the speed in which I got this out was crazy. I also wanted to thank all of you guys for the love, I'm quite the perfectionist when it comes to my writing, but seeing how well they've been received so far makes me incredibly happy. ily all 💞
Na Jaemin was the heartthrob. If someone plucked him out of a drama, it would be Boys Over Flowers — except he was the flower. Everything about him was charming, endearing, and effervescent. It was almost blinding. Sickening. She'd place bets he threw up rainbows and unicorns, no doubt consuming Lucky Charms sprinkled with stardust for breakfast.
Which is exactly why she avoided him like the plague.
She was an irritable shadow, afraid of being incinerated and consumed by the ebullient sun. Always grumbling and scowling whenever she came into the vicinity of his stupidly wide, toothy grin, paired with that obnoxiously loud laugh.
"You're stabbing at your food," a soft, amused voice cut through the loud chatter of the cafeteria, "Should I be worried that you're also giving me the death glare?"
Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him. She hated how well he held eye-contact, and she wasn't going to lose the little battles before the war. So, she sends him a scowl as a response, her dark, frizzy hair puffing up like a lion's mane.
Jaemin was intrigued by her. She was the only person who would never smile back, never say anything more than a few words to him. As if dealing with him, or people in general, sucked out her limited supply of energy.
Jaemin sits down next to her, his arm brushing against hers with the protection of her thick, knit sweater, "We're supposed to choose our pairs for the science project, wanna work together?"
She let out a scoff, side-eyeing him for the sheer audacity of asking something so absurd, "No," She replies flatly, munching on her cafeteria food that suddenly tasted like slop in his presence.
He raised an amused brow, smile never faltering. Honestly, she would pay good money to see him not smiling for once, "Come on, why not? You're smart and I'm... kinda smart. We'd make a good team! I've even come up with possible names for our duo," he clears his throat as if preparing a proposal for Shark Tank, "sun and moon, yin and yang, Princess and The Frog..."
"Princess?" She scoffs.
"Yeah, I'll be the princess and you can be the fro-," she grumbles under her breath, standing up with her tray and moving to another empty table. Jaemin was unfazed, unfortunately, and followed her casually as if she'd asked to move together.
"Stop following me," Y/N huffed, nestling into her purple sweater as she continued to stab at her food. She could see Jaemin's group of friends watching like vigilant vultures from the corner of her eye.
Haechan, the cocky, intimidating star student — or would be star student if he weren't so lazy. Chenle, the real crazy rich Asian, often coming to school with something designer. And Renjun, the angry artist who she often wondered how he fit in such a group, being as he seemed like the only normal person there.
She could almost hear their judgment, confused on why Jaemin spent almost every lunchtime circling around the grouchy loner.
Jaemin chuckled, slotting into the chair next to her, to which she nudged her chair to the side, trying to get as far away from him as physically possible, even down to the atoms, "it's either I work with you or Jisung... and I don't want to work with him."
Her eyes met his, glaring in a way Jaemin would call cute, strangely, "Not my problem."
Jaemin pokes at her arm, giggling when she jumps, startled, "But whyyy. That guy would be scared at the sight of a bunsen burner, that's not even on, mind you."
"Again, not my problem."
Jaemin pouted, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he let his soft gaze flick over her features. He had a horrible habit of keeping his eyes locked on people's lips, even more so when they spoke. But, from up close, his appearance matched the mix of a doe and a rabbit with his long, fluttering lashes and big, round eyes.
She hated deers and rabbits.
"Would it be your problem if we were friends?" Jaemin asked suddenly. Everything about his voice to his gaze were genuine. He meant every word, and that scared her.
She froze, grip tightening on her cutlery as she slowly met his watching eyes, "Friends?"
"Friends," Jaemin added, "I want us to be friends. You're nice."
She snorted. For the first time, she actually made a sound close enough to be a laugh and Jaemin, startled, looked at her like a deer caught in headlights. As if a UFO had landed right in front of him and aliens stepped out wearing chicken suits, "You're delusional."
"Delusional or not, I made you laugh. Even more of a reason for us to be friends, I'm a good influence on you," Jaemin teased. Immediately, her expression faltered.
The sun was obnoxiously loud, and infuriatingly cocky.
The sun was, indeed, loud.
When she woke up this morning, she never would have guessed how horrible today would be. Not until Jaemin raised his hand incredibly high and chirped to the science teacher, "Y/N and I would like to be partners!"
If looks could kill, Jaemin would be shot dead on Earth, stopped before he got to the pearly white gates; his soul extracted into a minuscule bottle, crushed and thrown into the deepest, tenebrous voids before he even had a chance at getting reincarnated.
She sighed, loudly. She could hear people whispering, their watchful gaze flicking between the pair. Jaemin was as smiley as ever, his eyes little crescents as he skipped over to her, flower petals trailing behind him like some spring-happy leprechaun.
Y/N placed her bag on the one free seat next to her, and Jaemin pouted just as he got to her table, "Hey, is that how you treat your partner?"
She couldn't even spare him a glance, not with her seething, "I told you, I didn't want to be your partner."
Jaemin shrugs, placing his books on the table and pulls out a separate chair to sit in front of her — all without complaint or a twitching smile. He could tell she was mad at him, he wasn't a fool. Usually, she'd be boring burning hot holes into his skin with her piercing glare, though now, she kept her eyes on her science book, not sparing him a glance.
He was cautious with his movements, watching her as he sat right in front, just close enough to smell the soft hint of lavender from her jumper. He didn't want to scare her off or build the tension further so, he did the next best thing he could think of.
Digging into his bag, he pulls out his phone and wired earphones, ones he carried with him for years. It was to anyone's amazement how they lasted so long. He scrolls through his playlist, trying to find anything that was calming enough and, when he does, he grins to himself, leaning over to place one bud into her ear.
Her eyes snapped to his, his finger still pressed to the earbud to stop her from snatching it out so quickly, but that meant he was closer than he had ever been. She couldn't help but to notice those dark eyes that reflected the glittering ceiling lights as his warm, gentle and hesitant breath brushed her dewy skin, "What are you-"
"Just... I know you don't want to talk to me right now so, let's listen to some music together. Just this once," his smile was softer now, eyes trained on her with a hint of nervousness.
When Jaemin realised she wasn't making a move to yank the earphones out, he slowly retracted his hand, letting the music play. Surprisingly, the song was calming and sweet — a stark contrast to the energiser bunny who sat in front of her, grinning like a madman just at her tolerating his presence.
Jaemin confused her. She couldn't understand how someone could be so... sunshine and rainbows. Just looking at him was exhausting, feeling the corners of her lips burn at the simple thought of grinning twenty four hours of every day. He may as well have had more muscles on his lips than she had in her arms.
"You're always smiling," she mutters, scribbling random doodles into her science book, not caring if it affects the presentation. She felt herself calming a little from the music alone.
Jaemin nods slowly, looking through their worksheet for the experiment they had to do over the course of the week, "Is that a bad thing?"
It felt like that question alone stumped her. It wasn't that smiling was a bad thing, but with Jaemin, it always felt forced — maintaining the good boy image. She scoffs lightly, "It's annoying."
He only laughs at that, leaning in closer as his voice turns to a whisper, "So, if I smiled less, you'd tolerate me more?"
Her confused look had Jaemin smiling at her like a fool, trying to see how far he could push as he pulled away, "Tolerate me enough to become friends, I mean. You didn't give me an answer yesterday either."
"Thought it was an obvious no," she takes the spare worksheet and starts filling in the equipment they'd need and the correct order of steps.
Jaemin lets out a sudden, obnoxiously loud "wow" at the sight of the work she had done in a mere five minutes. He snatches it from the desk, his thumbs digging into the edges of the paper as he held it up in amazement, lips puckered in an exaggerated 'O', before his gaze flicked to her, always searching for a hint of a reaction, "I don't think we will need a whole week to get this experiment done. At least, not with you as my partner."
"Don't get used to it. You're pulling your own weight for this project," Y/N mumbles, snatching the worksheet out of his hands, her fingers brushing his in the process. She flinches slightly at the contact, and Jaemin doesn't let it slide, his smile sneakily widening.
"Well too late. I'm already naming my future children after you."
She stares at him with a deadpanned expression, "You're so weird."
"Thank you," he beams.
There's a long silence after that. She quietly observes Jaemin, whose lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, smile softening as he chooses another song on his playlist, humming along to it. Then, her gaze drops to the paper again.
"Are you serious about being friends?" she asks softly, not looking up, voice so low he almost doesn't hear it.
He stops humming, "Yeah, I am."
Y/N finally looks up, and Jaemin's not smiling this time, clearly serious.
She considers it. Actually weighs the pros and cons of being friends with the sun which, if she hadn't known any better, would only repeat Icarus' story, where her wax wings would melt if she got too close, "Don't expect me to tell you my favourite colour or make friendship bracelets out of loom bands with you."
Jaemin's smile slowly returns, as if he's waiting for her to change her mind, "That's okay, you can start by telling me what you hate most about me."
She snorts, "As if there's enough time for that in a day."
"Perfect," he sends her his classic toothy grin, "Guess I have more of an excuse to hang around you for longer, then."
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, illuminating the multi-coloured shelves filled with snacks and bold coloured stickers with deals peppered along the products. It had smelled faintly of overripe bananas, cheap detergent, and air freshener — the familiar scent of your standard convenience stores. Jaemin had wandered the snack aisle on a lazy evening, indecisively scouring the 2-for-1 promotions. He was low on energy after spending the whole afternoon playing football against his will. Though, he was somewhat grateful it wasn't basketball this time, thanks to Chenle going on some last minute holiday.
All thoughts screeched to a halt while he was scanning for some snacks, seeing her behind the till. She wore the stores' basic, bright blue apron, the collar of the white undershirt slightly crooked, and an upside-down name tag pinned to her chest which gave more than enough away that she was in a rush to get to her shift. But most of all, she was smiling at the elderly woman in front of her, offering a genuine laugh when the lady made a joke he could barely make out.
Her laugh was so pretty to him. Despite it being awkward, tethering on deep yet with a sweet lilt... It was so unique, so adorable and something he wished he could hear over and over again, like a broken record.
He couldn't get over that smile, either. It brightened up her face and made her even more gorgeous than she already was. His eyes were locked on the soft and slightly shy grin, tugging up on one side. He had never seen her like that before, but he was already obsessed, his heart clenching as a sudden cuteness aggression overcame him.
The moment she noticed him walking towards the register with a basket of snacks, however, her expression had snapped back into its usual stormy cloud, the corners of her lips sinking into a scowl. Jaemin stifled a laugh as he set his snacks down on the counter.
"Hey," he whined, yet his voice was as bright and sunny as always, "I'm a customer too, where's my smile?"
"What are you doing here, Jaemin?" she grumbled, already scanning the items with speedy efficiency, clearly wanting to get rid of him.
"I came to see you," He let the sentence hang just long enough between them before correcting himself, "Actually... I just wanted some snacks."
She glanced at the box of Lucky Charms he placed on the counter —bright and completely childlike, just like him. She blinked before letting out a soft giggle, the sound barely audible, but loud enough for Jaemin to catch it. He felt butterflies going haywire in the pits of his stomach.
"You seriously eat this shi- stuff?"
"Religiously," he replied, smirking, "I'm convinced it really is sprinkled with some magical form of luck."
"Oh yeah, and what have you been lucky with?" she muttered, slipping the items into a plastic bag.
"You," he added with a grin. There was no hesitation in the way he had said it, especially with that stupid, shit-eating grin and the mischievous light in his eyes. But she forced her expression to remain neutral, even when a string of curses sat on the tip of her tongue.
The occasional beep of items being scanned and the quiet chatter of the other customers in the back had filled the silence between them. Jaemin leaned back and forth, raising an amused brow at her, cocky from having gotten to her in some way.
"I didn't know you worked here," he said finally, trying to fill in the silence and not wanting this moment with her to end so soon.
Y/N shrugged, adjusting the strap of her apron as she suddenly started to feel awkward, "It's... just part-time. Pays for things like snacks. But I never get to eat them because I have to smile at people like you all day."
He grinned wider, ignoring her slight jab, "So you do smile."
"God, you're annoying," she groans, packing the last of the items and gesturing to the till for him to pay.
Jaemin only smirks wider, tapping his card until a beep resounded in the shop, "And you're blushing."
"I am not-"
"Oh, you definitely are, but this would surely make you blush more...," He leans in, grabbing the plastic bag out of her hands, fingers barely brushing, as he whispered against the shell of her ear, "you're cuter when you smile."
Her hands stilled slightly as she let go of the bag as if they were opposites on either side of a magnet.
He held her gaze for a moment, before pulling away, "Thanks for the snacks."
"Don't come here again," Y/N grumbled.
Jaemin stepped back towards the automatic doors which kept trying to close, blocking the path of some customers as he smiled like a fool at her, as usual. She hated how he made her feel in this moment, and she could swear her heart had beat louder than the generic pop music which played in the shop. Maybe she would blame the fact that he was someone who does eat lucky charms. But his next words cut through her thoughts as he stifled a laugh before leaving, "No promises, cutie."
And, for some strange reason, that word didn't make her internally gag.
The cafeteria was in a state of a mess; chaotic noise and clattering trays, loud, overlapping conversations, and the sharp screeching of metal chairs. The air had smelt faintly of overcooked pasta and whatever they had tried to pass off as food today — what students would call radioactive slop. But not one table was as loud as the one Jaemin was sat on with his friends.
"I'm telling you, she's the cutest girl around. Like- Haechan, stop laughing, I'm being serious!" Jaemin glares daggers at the male who was barely keeping still on his chair.
"Yeah, I bet. I'd also bet she hexed you," Haechan, who sat across from Jaemin, wipes away a stray tear, followed by a sigh as he calmed down from his burst of laughter.
Renjun sat next to Haechan, nudging him with the pristine sleeve of his blazer. He had always kept a clean-cut appearance where not even a tiny drop of paint ever landed on his attire, "If Jaemin likes her, who cares? I will be judging though, but from the sidelines."
Jaemin grumbles, pushing his half-eaten tray away from him as he crossed his arms, "You guys are assholes. What happened to being happy for me?"
Chenle chirps in, glancing at the woman who was the focus of their conversation sat a few tables down on her own. He jabs a finger into the table, a classic Chenle move whenever he had a 'valid' point to make, eyebrows raised with passion, "You guys are like... the complete opposites of each other. She would definitely steal all your light. Well- on second thought, that's probably a good thing, maybe you'd finally be somewhat bearable to be around."
Jaemin rolls his eyes, stuffing a spoonful of rice and munching it in irritation, "Look, if you actually spoke to her, you'd see that there is more to her. She actually smiles too, and it's so adorable, plus-"
Haechan side-eyes Jaemin; partly for speaking with a mouthful of food, and the other for simping over her of all people, "Don't tell me you're already pussy-whipped when you've only spoken to her once."
Jaemin's mouth drops in shock, "Once?! I've spoken to her like... three, four times?"
Haechan snorts, resting his hands behind his head, sprawling lazily out on the chair, "Might as well have been once. You can count it on one hand. You barely know her."
"Well, I know her better than you guys do, so why are we judging so hard?" Jaemin snaps, and his friends suddenly grow silent and tense. It was unlike the usually sunny male to get angry or irritated. His jaw was clenched as he dropped his metal chopsticks on the tray, the clatter loud.
Renjun clears his throat awkwardly, looking around the table, his brows furrowed softly as he met Jaemin's gaze, "You... do know why everyone avoids her though, don't you?"
Jaemin pauses, eyes flicking to his friend. Something in Renjun's tone makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, the tension, paired with worry, simmering.
"What do you mean?" he asks suspiciously, his voice quiet and brows furrowing.
Renjun shifts in his seat, shrugging, "Just… she's not exactly friendly. People say she snapped at teachers, ditched group projects, cursed out that senior last year-"
"She cursed at him because he was mocking her in front of everyone," Jaemin cuts in sharply, his leg bouncing under the table in frustration, "And the group projects... Maybe no one ever wanted to work with her. She had always been a target of stupid jokes. Besides, how is any of that a big deal?"
The table falls quiet again and Chenle raises a brow and puts his hands up in surrender, trying to lighten the mood, "Okay, damn. Someone is ready to fight for her honour."
Jaemin huffs, "No- Look I'm just saying... people love to talk. Don't you think she's just tired of all these assholes?"
Haechan whistles lowly, "Okay, our knight in shining armour, should we start planning the wedding?"
"Shut up," Jaemin mutters, his cheeks flushed pink, "I already did."
The lab was meant to be quiet except, Jaemin was being clumsy with the equipment. The glass beakers kept clinking against each other, and it was surprising how they hadn't smashed into pieces with his large hands. It was only them in the lab, away from the bustling lunch hall, and it was supposed to be them finishing off the experiment before they had to type up their conclusions. However, working with Jaemin was proving to be a separate challenge.
Y/N tugged her sleeves up her arms in frustration as she kept glaring at him and giving him orders. But Jaemin found her to appear less reserved when she wasn't surrounded by others — still sharp around the cute edges, but not enough to make a man cower.
"Put the beaker down slowly," she said, eyeing the glass nervously as Jaemin finished pouring the solution into a separate beaker, "I swear to God if you shatter another one-"
"Relax," Jaemin chuckled, mocking offence as he set it down with exaggerated grace, gesturing to it in celebration. She forgot he had arms that could squash a coconut in one go, panicking at the sight of him handling fragile equipment. But his cockiness worried her even further, "I have the hands of a pianist."
She side-eyed him with a slight look of surprise, "You play the piano?"
"No, but I could," he wiggles his fingers, "with these sexy hands."
She rolled her eyes, but he caught the subtle twitch of her lips before she turned away to fetch the other materials.
They had been measuring and watching the colours blend in the beaker, creating an... interesting solution. He watched her scribble something in the worksheet, noticing her handwriting was messier than he'd expected. It had kept changing its font, far from the consistent and neat image she had presented as, at least, with her personality. His eyes trailed to her frizzy hair that added an adorable, messy look to her, like his favourite character from UP, Ellie.
"You're staring," she mumbled, her pen tapping the edge of the paper in annoyance.
"Just admiring your handwriting," Jaemin teased, leaning slightly closer, glancing to her writing again, "It looks like five different people wrote that."
"Want to lose the ability to smile?"
He chuckled, watching as she moved to hold a pipette above one of the mixtures, "Are you going to start writing the conclusion, or should I do everything?"
Jaemin snapped back to reality, side stepping to grab the worksheet and immediately tapping the pencil to his cheek in thought, "Right, conclusion," he frowned when nothing came to mind, "Something something… mixture."
Y/N slowly turned to face him, "Very insightful," she deadpanned.
He didn't miss the tiniest curve of her mouth again and, God, even when she stifled a smile, it would still hit like a punch to the gut. He was starting to think maybe she was right to hide it as people would be drawn to her like the North Star. And now, it was starting to feel like it was a sight only he was allowed to see.
"You say that like it's not the best conclusion you have ever heard," Jaemin added, pressing the pencil to his lip smugly.
She sighed, snatching the worksheet from him without a word and scribbling a few lines with a quiet confidence that made him raise a brow. Her writing was still chaotic, unlike her thoughts.
He leaned in slightly to peek over at what she wrote, but she folded the paper away from his view like it was a personal diary.
"Do you mind?" she muttered in exasperation.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation, resting his chin on her shoulder to take a better look at the mysterious writing.
Y/N stiffened, her breath hitched as she stayed frozen. It was insane to her how good he smelt, the way her heart stuttered, and the soft weight of him on her shoulder felt... right. She almost let out a loud scoff at her own thoughts before elbowing him sharply in the ribs.
Jaemin let out a dramatic gasp, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated pout, "Excuse me, assault in a science lab full of lethal equipment is a criminal offence!"
"You were in my space."
"It was our space," he mumbled, still rubbing his side, "I would argue we have dual ownership over this lab."
She tongued the inside of her cheek and shoved the worksheet in his direction, "I don't see your name on this paper, Jaemin."
He smirked, feeling his own heart blush at the way his name sounded on her lips, and grabbed the paper, scribbling Na Jaemin (Princess) in the top corner, and (cute frog) next to her name. When he handed it back to her, she glanced at the names, then at him, and rolled her eyes at his silliness.
"Anyway," his voice filled the quiet room, eyes glancing away to look at the clock, seeing they only had a few minutes till the end of lunch, "I think we did a pretty decent job, we should celebrate getting this project done."
She looked up his taller form in confusion, "Celebrate?"
Jaemin nodded, "Yeah, I'll bring you a snack tomorrow, something sweet, so that you forget about annihilating me for barely carrying this project."
She sent him a scowl in response, "And what makes you think I like sweet things?"
He grinned cheekily, packing away the equipment, "You like me, don't you?"
Y/N was convinced Jaemin had hit his head in the past month, especially with all the shit he was spewing. But she couldn't stop the small smile that lifted the corners of her lips, immediately dropping the second she had realised, and Jaemin's eyes widened at the sight. His heart was going haywire. She had finally smiled in his presence, because of him.
"You really do look cute when you smile," he grinned at her, slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking almost entranced by her, "I'm glad I'm the only one who gets to see it."
She snorts, packing her things away as well, "Well, I'd rather you not smile. It's exhausting."
Jaemin smirks, nodding his head, "Okay, I won't!"
He exaggerates a silly-looking scowl, humming at the same time, "Is that better?"
Y/N lets out a disbelieving scoff, eyeing him in what seemed like amusement, "Somehow... that's much worse."
It had been three days. Three days of Jaemin leaving snacks on her desk like some overly enthusiastic snack fairy with too much free time in the crackhead hours of the morning — throwing coins on snacks she hadn't asked for.
He had brought strawberry pocky the first day (what he would call an abomination in a box), Hello Panda's the next, and today? Banana milk — in this obnoxiously bright yellow carton, with the straw poked in. He called it a "romantic gesture".
Y/N stared at the carton on her desk, the happy face of the banana staring right back into her soul. Her brows had furrowed as Jaemin plopped himself into the seat beside her with his usual beaming aura.
"You're welcome," he said with a grin, chin propped up on his hand as he watched her with hearts in his eyes.
"I don't remember saying thank you," she replied blandly, but her fingers still curled around the carton like a stress ball.
Jaemin tilted his head, nodding in agreement, "I know, but you did drink the last two, so... it seems like you do appreciate the gifts, or me. Or both."
"And it seems like," she echoed with a deadpanned expression, "you're annoying. Unsurprisingly."
"Are you waiting for some kind of an applause?" she continued when he didn't make a move to leave, taking another sip of the banana milk.
Jaemin shrugged, never taking his eyes off of her, even as other students around looked on in confusion, "Yes, actually. I deserve a standing ovation. I had brought you peace offerings three days in a row, that's equivalent to a committed relationship."
"You're clinically insane," she shakes her head, scanning over her notes.
"Clinically sexy, you mean," he corrected, wagging his brows, his voice exaggerated loudly.
She let out a long, exhausted sigh that sounded like it came from the pits of her stomach, the kind of sigh only Jaemin could evoke. However, silence had then settled between them again. This time, it was peaceful.
For once, Jaemin wasn't rambling silly little lines, openly flirting with her, or laughing gratingly loud. Instead, he was sitting there, occasionally stealing glances at her while she pretended not to notice. Then, out of nowhere, the words that had left Jaemin's lips gave her whiplash, paired with how casually he had said them.
"Wanna hang out this weekend?"
Y/N's pen slid across the page in shock, her head turning slowly, and suspiciously, like he had just asked her to help him bury a body, "Hang out?"
Jaemin shrugged, "Just thought we could do something, you know, outside of science experiments and this God-forsaken building."
She stared at him blankly for a moment longer before replying, "I'm busy."
"You don't even know what day I meant," Jaemin pouted, throwing rubber shavings her way, playfully.
He laughed under his breath, leaning back in his seat. "You'll say yes eventually."
"Not likely."
"We'll see."
She did end up saying yes.
When Friday afternoon came rolling in, and he caught up to her outside the school gates with another (peace offering) drink in hand, a grape-flavoured juice, he sent her a hopeful look with his lashes fluttering like the princess he claimed he was.
The weather carried a gentle breeze as the sun formed a subtle halo over the brunette male, making him appear even more angelic than he already was. His dark eyes were softer under the afternoon glow, and his smile felt like spring. Y/N didn't know why things were suddenly changing. Why her thoughts were becoming brighter and warmer in his presence. It was like he had merged into her life as though he had always belonged there, and she couldn't help but to give in.
She rolled her eyes, "Fine. One hour."
Jaemin blinked, surprise etching into his features, "Wait- what?"
"I'll hang out with you," she clarified, crossing her arms and looking off to the side as if she were an older sibling giving into the younger's request, "For an hour. And I'm not doing anything cheesy. If you take me anywhere with fairy lights or those photo booths, I will walk into on-coming traffic."
Jaemin burst into a fit of laughter, barely containing the smile stretching across his face, "You're the one who said yes."
"God," she grumbled, turning to walk ahead, not even waiting for him, "I'm already regretting this."
"No take backs!" He chirped as he caught up to her, grinning like he had won the lottery, "You'll regret it a lot less once you see what I had planned."
She stopped in her tracks, head snapping to him in shock. Not once had she hinted in agreeing to hang out with him, and yet, he had still put in the effort to plan something that wasn't guaranteed. Just because he wanted to make it something special.
"You planned it already?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously, "And why does that sound like a threat?"
"It's not! It's a promise," he beamed, "And of course I planned it. I knew you were going to agree. I mean, how could you say no to this face?"
He cupped his cheeks and batted his lashes at her. Usually, this would have been something that would instantly make her cringe yet, this time, it was so... Jaemin. So silly and adorably him. It gave her this sense of ease, as though it was alright for her to be just as silly, just as out there as he was. Despite what others may think.
However, Y/N gave him a long, stern look, unimpressed, "You are dangerously close to being punched in the throat."
Jaemin gasped, holding his arms up in defence, "Violence on our first date?"
"It is not a date," she said instantly, her voice a slight screech, feigning a scowl. Her heart was thumping erratically. A date? It was only a month ago when Jaemin had asked to be friends, but the spring-happy leprechaun wouldn't settle on just friends. Not with her.
"Sure it's not," he replied sarcastically, bumping his shoulder into hers. He watched as her teeth bit into the straw of the grape juice, lips puckering as she took a sip. God, he really was down bad.
"So, where exactly are we going?" she asked, interrupting his far from innocent thoughts.
Jaemin's smile twitched, internally cursing himself for getting carried away like that, "Somewhere where you can't walk into traffic."
She groaned, "Great. I can't escape by death."
Jaemin grinned, tugging at her sleeve lightly, "Nah, you're gonna fall."
"Fall?"
"For me," he replied smugly, wiggling his brows.
She stared at him long enough to make him shift slightly. He should have known corny, cheesy, unoriginal pick-up lines would never work on her, "…I changed my mind. Half an hour."
"I bet you're already falling for me," He continued to tease, gently poking at her sides and snickering at her annoyed expression.
"Keep talking and it'll be ten minutes."
He shut his mouth immediately, but the grin on his face didn't fade for even a second. Of course it wouldn't.
He had led her further down the quiet streets just beyond the school, the buzz of the busy roads echoing behind them. Suddenly, he turned into a narrow, sketchy pathway covered by dark walls and patched up windows.
"Okay, where the hell are we going?"
"You'll see, just trust me," Jaemin chirped, hopping over a puddle with the appearance of someone who probably believed in elves and the tooth fairy.
Y/N eyed the side of his face, as if analysing him, "You're like a golden retriever, and I don't mean that in a good way," she said, her tone dry, "Do you have this much energy even when you're in bed?"
Jaemin didn't miss a second, his lips curling into a smirk, "Depends who's in bed with me."
Y/N blinked, nearly choking on the last bit of juice, "You're disgusting."
"What?" he asked innocently, raising both hands in mock surrender, "You asked."
"And shameless," she muttered.
"And you're blushing," he shot back smugly.
She turned away quickly, muttering curses under her breath. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong… she was blushing.
However, when the path opened up to a skatepark, she was about to turn and walk in the opposite direction, until she saw a building to the right.
It was a planetarium, nestled at the far end of the park, hidden behind torn fences and overgrown trees, clearly abandoned. The soft, spring breeze weaved through the cracked windows and rustling dead leaves across the ground, making her anxious. It was silent, apart from the sharp creak of the iron gate as Jaemin kicked it open dramatically, letting her enter first.
"You're trespassing...," Y/N said nervously, yet still stepped past the gate.
"We are," Jaemin corrected, grinning as he didn't bother to shut the gate behind them, "You agreed to this, remember?"
She rolled her eyes, "I was coerced by grape juice."
Inside the planetarium was dark, where glimpses of sunlight flickered through the cracks of the walls. The air was coated in dust and old wood, the scent sharp in her throat — particles floated just like the glimmer of stars on the ceiling. The projector had sat in the centre, the lens still intact despite it rusting and coated in crumbling leaves and spider webs. But there was something almost... magical about this place, as though it carried many stories — a history.
"I used to come here a lot as a child," Jaemin said, his voice softer now, with a hint of nostalgia, "My dad used to work nearby, and he would take me after school sometimes. I mean... I loved the stars, it always intrigued me. I would just lie down right here and pretend they were real."
He lays down right in the middle of the dome, a softer, more pained smile gracing his lips as he saw the now faded stars that didn't seem to hold the same wonder it used to, "There was something so..."
"Magical," she voiced out her earlier thoughts, hesitantly laying down next to him.
He glanced over to see her looking up at the dimmed ceiling, the setting sun catching across her soft, pretty features, illuminating the curve of her cheekbone and the plushness of her lips. She looked oddly beautiful here, even in this run-down, shabby space. It was like she brought that same wonder back with just her presence alone.
"So this was your idea of a perfect date?" she asked finally, but her voice was gentle, tugging at his heartstrings.
"It's peaceful and there are no fairy lights in sight," he teased, "Besides, you'll ruin my date rating if you start judging my choices."
They lay in silence for a while, staring up at a ceiling that once reflected galaxies. Now, the real stars peeked through the gaps as the sun had finally set, fragmented and imperfect, fitting in like puzzle pieces against the fabricated lights.
"You asked me before if I ever stop smiling," Jaemin says, quietly, his eyes locked on the ceiling. He lies still under the watching gaze of the fading stars, "Just... when no one is around."
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a bitter laugh, not reaching the crinkles of his eyes, "I think somewhere along the line, I decided that being the overly positive guy was who I was meant to be. If I kept people distracted by this- this image, no one would look close enough to see all the fragmented pieces. I wouldn't be a burden to others."
Y/N said nothing, biting her bottom lip.
"Sometimes it feels like… if I were to drop this act, people wouldn't know what to do with me," He turns his head slightly towards her, letting out a dry chuckle, "That I would be a handful. I'd come with all the baggage that overwhelms them."
Y/N felt her eyes glaze with tears, the brittle air pressing against her chest that made it feel almost suffocating. She hated how much she related to those words alone.
She shifts slightly on the cold floor, trying to make her voice sound neutral, "That sounds exhausting."
"I guess it is," Jaemin admits.
"I do understand, though," she responds, glancing at him, "With keeping up that image."
Her voice doesn't waver, but it had always been hard for her to be vulnerable as she never had the chance to with her own family, "It's weird. One day, conversation is easy, people are approachable and..."
He listens, his brows furrowing in focus.
"Being strong for everyone else meant having to lose a part of myself," She exhales shakily, her nails digging crescents into her palms, "And after a while, I stopped feeling like me. Now, it's like I'm just a shell and pushing people away is easier. You don't get hurt again."
Jaemin's fingers inch closer to her, his knuckles brushing along her hand and, when her pinky hooks around his, he can't help but to smile softly.
"Even so... I don't hate being around people," she whispers, "I don't hate being around you."
He feels his heart skip a beat and his eyes widen slightly when her soft gaze meets his. It was like he got a glimpse into the warmth beneath the grumbling girl, the gentle side of her that hid behind the protective wall. Her usual glaring, intense gaze was now soft and sweet, pupils big as they reflected the starry sky in them, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
Jaemin quickly snaps his head away, bringing a hand over his mouth, hiding his flustered smile, "This is dangerous," he mumbles to himself. Every moment he spent with her was making it harder for him to be normal, not with his body getting hot, and her pretty eyes that watched him curiously.
"What's dangerous?" She asks, confused.
"You, Y/N," he breathes, meeting her gaze again, "you don't understand just how gorgeous you are, how you look at me like that and... the fact that you really are someone so warm and funny and smart. And there is so much more to you that I-"
He chuckled nervously, interlocking his hand with hers more boldly, "I love that you're different. That you trusted me enough to share a piece of yourself. I also want to be someone who would take away all the burdens you've been carrying. To help fill your cup with you, because you're perfect to me, and I want you to see that too."
"But why? You barely know me," she asked quietly.
"Because it's you. But also... do we even need a reason? I just want to."
Her heart beats loud in her ears and tears finally fall, startling Jaemin as he began to panic, worried he may have overstepped in some way. However, it felt like those were words she needed to hear, even if it were just scratching the surface of understanding her, and her understanding him. It felt like she had finally met someone who could. Who would try.
"Jaemin," she calls out to him, and he blinks in response just as she leans in before she could think. Before she could stop herself.
Y/N's lips press to his softly. It was hesitant and shy, but it felt right. Slowly, her fingers cup his jaw and Jaemin pauses. He had waited for this moment, waited for when he could finally get through the protective wall she built around herself. She pulls away and he immediately pulls her back in.
When her lips meet his again, it's messier, with her running her fingers through his hair, parting her lips to mould with his. He feels the urgency in her hands, and he lets out a quiet groan when she climbs onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips, yet never breaking the kiss.
Jaemin's palms settle at her waist, rubbing slow circles on her skin. He tries to control the pace, kissing her back slower, patiently, as he pulls away to catch his breath, tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Let me-" his voice is breathy and hoarse; chest heaving, "Let me take my time with you, Y/N. Please."
When her eyes search his, he continues with a softer tone, "You deserve as much."
She leans forward again, kissing him slow.
His hands curl over the back of her neck, the other still cupping her waist, pulling her in a little closer. It feels different this time, gentle and tender. Their mouths move quietly under the witness of the stars, like they're both trying to memorise what the other feels like.
Jaemin sighs softly against her lips when she subtly grinds against him, and he rests his forehead against hers.
"You don't have to rush anything with me, Y/N," he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."
"But I want this," she bites her lip, looking down at him. And that's all it takes for him to want to give in and give her everything she wants.
Jaemin's lips trail to her jaw, then down her neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses that make her heart flutter wildly. She whispers his name and he flips their positions so that she was under him now. His body hovers just above hers, brushing strands of her hair from her face.
He kisses her again, slowly at first, but the kiss deepens with each second. His hands slip beneath her soft jumper, fingers tracing along her waist and brushing just under the curve of her breast.
She arches into his touch when he cups her bra-clad breast, thumb swiping over her nipple. Her skin was warm and soft, paired with her sweet gasps, and he couldn't hold back any longer, pushing the jumper off of her.
"How could someone be so beautiful," he breathes out, his soft eyes delicately tracing over her frame as the subtle light of the moon hugged her skin. Her cheeks were flushed at the way he looked at her and, before she could feel any more shy, he connected his lips with hers again; tongue tracing the seam whilst his hands slipped under the lace, massaging her supple mounds.
Y/N tugged at his own hoodie, whining softly against his lips, to which he chuckled, sitting back to pull it off of him, not forgetting to place the clothing under her when he realised she was laying on the icy marble floor. Her cold, slender fingers cupped his jaw, trailing down his chest. It all felt unreal to the both of them; this moment under the stars. It was as though, under the moonlight, was her world. A glimpse into her inner warmth.
Soon, her jeans followed, his warm breath fanning against her inner thighs as his lips ghosted over the skin. He pressed gentle kisses slowly up, thumb finally grazing over her clothed clit which elicited a quiet moan from her. The moment he tugged her panties to the side, she knew what was coming and immediately gripped onto his hair in anticipation.
Jaemin's tongue licked a thick stripe up her folds and she shuddered. But he didn't stop there, picking up the pace. His humming against her had her cheeks flush. His warm breath and tongue guided her down the path towards ecstasy, hands pinning her thighs against his sprawled out hoodie. Each tug at the locks of his hair and the soft whines that left her lips, had Jaemin's control slip further, subtly grinding against the floor to find some sort of friction.
Y/N couldn't take it any more. Not his wet tongue that elicited lewd sounds from her lips, creating an erotic melody that layered with his eager licks and groans, paired with the squelching sounds as he finally pushed his fingers into her. Her eyes blurred as she stared at the stars, glimmering as he brought her to the edge. His fingers curled perfectly inside her, pressing against a bundle that made the thread snap, finally coming and coating his fingers with her release.
The sound he made when she shuddered beneath him; eyes rolling back, was so pretty, so guttural, she swore she could have come again right there and then.
"You're perfect, baby," he kissed the inside of her thigh before crawling up her writhing body, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, "We don't have to go all the way tonight, if you don't want to."
Immediately, she shook her head, pulling him in for a lazy kiss, "Jaemin... I want to. I'm sure."
He swore he felt his cock twitch at that, but he shook it off, sitting back on the heels of his feet as he unbuttoned his jeans, kicking it off along with his boxers. But he cursed at himself when the realisation dawned on him, "I-I'm sorry, baby. I don't have a condom. I mean... I wasn't really expecting anything to come out of tonight." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, though she almost didn't hear him, too entranced by the size of him, needing to shake herself out of it.
"If you're okay with not using one, I'm okay with it too," she said without hesitation, "I'm on the pill and... Well, I can get the morning after-"
His soft chuckle had cut her words short, "You want me that bad, huh? Aren't you the same woman who was so eager to get rid of me earlier?"
Y/N grumbles under her breath, "Just shut up. Are you going to sleep with me or what? It's getting cold."
Jaemin shakes his head in amusement, hovering over her. The way he looks at her has her heart race; the affection that he doesn't bother to hide, the way his eyes are constantly flicking over her features as if etching them into memory, and the way he isn't quick with claiming her, always making sure she's okay and giving her time to back out. Slowly, she reaches up, cupping his jaw, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
"Fuck... do you know what you do to me?" He breathes out, nuzzling into her touch and placing a kiss to the inside of her hand.
Then, he slides his member through her folds, pushing into her inch by inch, pausing every time her brows furrow even slightly. Even when it was torturous for him, he put her first, waiting until the corners of her lips relaxed, and the space between her brows didn't crease.
Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside, and she had relaxed around him, he started to move, picking up the pace a little at a time, her sounds playing as the guide. She was perfect, fitting around him like a glove, wrapping her legs over his hips, rocking into him to feel him deeper, as if he wasn't close enough for her.
Jaemin rested his forehead against hers, his groans synchronised with her pretty moans, "God..." he breathed out, letting his hand cup her waist, fingers pressed into her dewy skin as he grinded into her.
Y/N grabbed onto whatever she could, moving to nestle into his neck, her warm breath and plush lips brushing over his pulse point, "Y-yes, Jaemin...," her nails dug into his back, toes curling at every rock of his hips, every push of his dick into her, had the stars on the ceiling feel brighter and all-consuming, "F-fuck."
Jaemin couldn't handle it, couldn't prolong her release any longer. He grabbed onto her thighs, pushing them out and up to angle his thrusts better. Then, he grabbed onto her wrists, pulling them towards him, sitting back on the balls of his feet as he picked up the pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was so dirty under the witness of the gleaming moonlight.
Her head rolled back, mouth agape as deep, throaty sounds escaped her. The moment she began to shudder, he knew he had made her come a second time, his own release following right after.
Jaemin collapsed on top of her, his large frame burying her in warmth as she let out a lazy giggle, snuggling into him, "That was..."
"Amazing? I know."
She smacked his shoulder playfully, "You're so cocky. For all you know, I could have been about to say that it was mediocre, or abysmal, or-"
"Or the hottest thing ever," Jaemin pressed a kiss under her jaw, rolling off of her to grab the sleeve of his hoodie that still nestled under her figure, wiping away at the inside of her thighs.
Just then, a flashlight peeked through the hallway just outside the door. Immediately, the pair glanced at each other, Jaemin muttered a loud 'shit', before quickly slipping on his boxers and jeans, and she chucked his hoodie at him, throwing her own clothes back on — barely.
"We gotta go, now," Jaemin grabbed at her wrist before she could put her jeans and shoes on, darting out the back just as the security guard opened the door, yelling a 'who's there?'
As soon as they made it out of the planetarium and into the chilly night air, out of breath and barely able to stand up straight, Jaemin and Y/N let out a chuckle that sounded more like relief, finally bursting into a fit of laughter, barely able to keep their balance. She used that time to slip on her jeans and shoes, elbowing Jaemin, "We almost got arrested. You sure this is still a good date spot?"
Jaemin raised an amused brow at her, catching his breath after laughing, shrugging, "I just bagged the most perfect, smartest, and most unattainable woman in there. I'd say it's the date spot."
Y/N rolled her eyes, interlocking her fingers with his as she led him back onto the main street, "You better not bring anyone but me."
Jaemin stopped in his tracks, turning her around to face him as he held onto both of her hands, his face serious, "Of course. It's only ever been you, Y/N. I know we've only been on just one date and I know I get on your nerves, and that I barely carried any weight on that science project," he let out an embarrassed chuckle, "But I want to be your boyfriend, if you'll let me. Just know that I'll spoil you like crazy, because we both know that I'm the one who is down bad, who is so madly in love I can't think straight in your presence. I know it's only been a short while, but sometimes it just clicks and it clicked with you, Y/N. It clicked perfectly."
She couldn't stifle a wide smile, her eyes glazing over as she nodded eagerly, squeezing his hands tightly, "I can't say it's love just yet I... I need time, but I do like you, a lot and, I want to give us a try. I'll let you be my boyfriend."
Jaemin didn't realise he was holding his breath, letting out a sigh of relief, "I'm not expecting you to feel anything more than that, Y/N. That's more than enough for me, more than I can ask for or feel worthy of."
She tutted at him, sending him a playfully annoyed expression, "You're worthy of a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Jaemin."
6 months later...
"Haechan, don't be a brat, I told you to put the candles on the candle holders before placing them on the cake," Y/N scowled at the male, who only shrugged in response.
"You really don't need candle holders for this, he'll blow the candles out in like... two seconds. No wax will drip on the cake," He swiped his finger over the frosting, licking it off which had her smack his shoulder.
Renjun let out a frustrated sigh at their usual bickering, shoving Haechan to the side and placing the candles on the toppers, "Stop being difficult, Haechan. This isn't your event."
Haechan grumbled, crossing his arms as he leant against the fridge, "You guys need to get a DNA test, it's crazy how similar you both are."
Chenle, who was still wearing sunglasses indoors, peers up from his phone after watching the tracking map, seeing Jaemin's icon pulling up to the apartment, "Guys, he's almost here, stop fighting."
Y/N quickly scrambles to grab the cake, causing Renjun to whine, "Careful, this will all go to waste if you drop it!"
She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping the cake into her hands as she moves to stand in front of the door, "Okay, as soon as you hear the elevator, light the candles. Don't mess this up!"
Haechan grabs the lighter from the counter, standing next to her as he angles it just above the first candle, "Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't want the leader of the underworld to beat my ass."
She sends him a glare, kicking his leg which causes him to yelp, "I am not Hades!"
"Well, Hades would have kicked my leg too!"
"Because you deserved it!"
Chenle, who was now standing in front of the door, jumps in surprise when he hears the elevator ding, "Guys, shut up, he's here!"
Haechan, about to clap back at her, quickly lights the candles, struggling with the last one until it finally burns a flame into the thread just in time for the front door to open. Renjun could have sworn he almost had a heart attack from the way their whole surprise could have gone bust.
As soon as Jaemin steps inside, the quartet broke into song, singing happy birthday to the male who never would have expected a surprise from the people who meant the most to him. A smile tugged at his lips, his toothy grin wide as he finally met the gaze of the most beautiful woman in his eyes. He knew it was her idea, that she brought them here for him, even though it had taken a while for them to all grow close.
When the song ends, Jaemin's eyes flutter closed to make his wish, blowing out the candles, causing everyone to cheer. Haechan ruffles Jaemin's hair, Chenle claps his back, and Renjun gives him a curt nod and birthday wishes, taking the cake from Y/N's hands before the three of them move to the living room, preparing to hand him the presents.
Jaemin doesn't stop smiling at her, pulling her into a tight hug, his nose nestling into her hair, "Thank you for organising all of this, Y/N... It means the world."
She chuckles, "Of course, I knew how much it would mean to you. I'm just surprised I could get everything ready in time, knowing how easily the four of us bicker."
Jaemin chuckled, pulling back to meet her gaze, "Am I the luckiest man ever? I think I am."
She snorts, rolling her eyes, "You're so annoying. This is why I love you."
Jaemin paused, his eyes widening slightly as the words finally registered, "You..."
When she realised why he had been shocked, she shakes her head in amusement, pulling him in for a sweet kiss, nipping at his bottom lip as she pulled back, "I love you, Jaemin. I was just waiting for the right time to say it."
The three men hollered from the living room, but Jaemin let those sounds drown out, cupping her cheeks with the palms of his hands as he pulled her back in for another kiss, parting his lips against hers, tugging at the plush skin as he smiled into her mouth, "I love you too, Y/N."
i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to fuck you | l.mk
“you are the girl that i’ve been dreaming of”
📀now playing: i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you by black kids
❯ summary: Asking your best friend to take your virginity because you have a crush on someone else and want experience is totally normal, right? Mark doesn’t think so. If he’s taking your virginity, it’s not for practice—it’s for him. He’s nobody’s wingman—especially not when it comes to you.
❯ pairings: mark x virgin fem!reader
❯ genre: smut, friends to lovers
❯ words: 5.6k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, corruption kink, loss of virginity, nipple play, fingering, hand jobs, praising, body worship, protected sex, back scratching, brief possessiveness, pet names, reader uses she/her pronouns, swearing, love confessions, just fluffy smut because it’s what i do best lol.
Mark swears he’s a good listener. Considering he’s been friends with Zhong Chenle for years, the world’s most dedicated yapper, he doesn’t really have a choice. He has to be a good listener. But Mark almost does a double take when he hears the words ‘my virginity’ and ‘you’ come out of your mouth.
His best friend. With the biggest, prettiest, most innocent eyes and sweet little mouth that could barely stammer through conversations about flirting—asking him about sex. No. Not just asking. Wanting him.
After nearly choking on his own spit, Mark tries to regain his composure—but fails miserably. Especially when your cheeks flush, and you start chewing on your bottom lip. It’s a crime. No, worse. It’s sin in human form. You’re sin in human form. Looking this cute, blushing like a maniac, like you didn’t just drop that question on him.
“You want me to take your virginity, Y/N?”
You cringe the second he repeats your question back to you. It sounded a lot better in your head—practical, reasonable, totally fine. But now, with his brows furrowed and that ‘are you insane?’ look on his face, you’re starting to think maybe you are insane.
But when you came up with this plan last night, none of that crossed your mind. All you knew was that Mark never says no to you. Ever. Not when you asked him to be your first kiss in middle school. Not when you made him take you to your first frat party. Not even when you guilt-tripped him into helping with your dissertation.
"Look, forget it—" you say, pushing to your feet, desperate to escape your shared living room that suddenly feels way too hot under Mark’s stare. "I totally crossed a line by asking. I’m sure I can find someone on Tinder—"
"No."
You blink. "No?"
Mark wants to curse himself for the hasty reply, but who could blame him? There’s just no way he’s letting you swipe right on some douche bag looking for a quick fuck—some guy who’ll take you to a lousy bar, probably make you pay for your own drinks, and then expect to take your virginity like it’s nothing.
It’s ridiculous. It’s not happening.
Not when you just handed him the opportunity on a silver platter.
“What I meant to say was,” Mark rubs the back of his neck, “Don’t you want to lose your virginity to someone you trust—someone you love?”
You nod without hesitation. “That’s why I asked you. There’s not a single man I trust more than you. And I love you—platonically, yeah, but it’s still love.”
Platonic.
If Mark could rip that word out of the dictionary, set it on fire, and launch the ashes into space, he would. Anything to stop you from thinking whatever he feels towards you is platonic. Was it platonic when he kissed you when you were eleven? No. Was it platonic when he drove ten miles just for your favourite snack on your birthday? No. Was it platonic when he worked on your final thesis at the same time as his own? No.
And if he’s going to be the first one to have you, it sure as hell won’t be platonic. That’s for damn sure.
His eyes squeeze shut as he sits forward, clammy hands rubbing up and down his jeans. "Okay, so you want me, your best friend, to take your virginity? Why?"
You chew your lip. This was the part of the scenario that kept you up at night—explaining why. How the hell are you supposed to tell someone you want them to take your virginity just so you can be ready for someone else? There’s no handbook, no online forum, for this kind of thing.
So you settle for:
“It’s stupid. A dumb reason. Don’t even worry about it. Will you do it or not?”
Mark gives you a knowing look, exactly like you knew he would. He’s one of those perspective fuckers, especially when it comes to you. Normally, you love it. Right now, not so much.
“Y/N,” he draws out your name, “What happened to me being one of the most trusted men you know? Tell me.”
You suck in a breath, trying to steady yourself. After all, it’s just Mark. Sweet, kind, nonjudgmental, Mark.
“I have a crush on my co-worker, Xiaojun,” you blurt out. Mark just blinks, completely still, like he’s trying to process. You, on the other hand, keep rambling. “And there’s rumours that he’s amazing in bed, and he asked me out for drinks this Friday, and I just feel really…unprepared.”
Mark feels his blood pressure spike—because fuck your co-worker, fuck those rumours and fuck that little date your planning to gone on this Friday night. Look, he’s not a prude or anything. Mark knows people fuck on a first date—but not you. At least not you with some asshole making you think you need to be prepared for him.
"If that asshole makes you feel less than just because you're a virgin, Y/N, he’s not worth your time."
You narrow your eyes. "I don’t think your opinion holds any weight here, considering you don’t think any guy is worth my time."
Mark relaxes slightly and smiles at that—because it’s true. No man deserves to talk to you, touch you, kiss you—no one but him.
“Besides,” you perk up again, trying to sound more confident. “This isn’t about what Xiaojun or any other guy thinks. This is about me… being comfortable having sex with someone that isn’t myself.” You chew your lower lip. “I want to be comfortable having sex with other men.”
Mark almost growls, a caveman-like urge pounding in his chest at the thought of you wanting to be comfortable with other men. He’s changed his mind. He’d take the word platonic any day over hearing other men leave your mouth.
“Let me get this straight—you want me to teach you how to fuck, to please other men?”
Your cheeks flush, not just because the idea sounds so ridiculous when he puts it like that, but because it’s the first time you've ever heard him talk like that. Mark is always so careful, so delicate with you, keeping his foul mouth and sex life locked away. But hearing the phrase "how to fuck" leave his mouth in that deep, husky drawl, sends a pulse right through you, straight to your clit.
You chew your lip again, hesitating. “I don’t know… I just wanna be good... at it… at sex.”
Mark’s head tilts back as he stares at the ceiling, a string of mumbled curses slipping out before his Adam’s apple starts bobbing against his throat. He pauses to think—and so do you. You can’t figure out why he’s interrogating you like this. The proposition is a lot, yes, but if you’d crossed a line and made him uncomfortable, he could’ve just said so, you wouldn’t have taken it personally. There’s no reason for him to poke and prod like this.
Just as you're about to squash this whole thing, Mark speaks again. He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, his brows furrowed like he's still deep in thought, but his eyes, dark and blown wide, pin you in place.
"I'll teach you, Y/N," he says, standing up slowly. "I'll fuck you if that's what you want and if that’s what you're asking me for," he continues, moving closer until he's right in your personal space. "But I won't fuck you just to get you ready for someone else."
"Mark—"
"No, Y/N, I’m talking," he cuts you off, his long, tantalizing finger tracing from your cheek down to your neck before he whispers, "I don’t mind teaching you how to be good at sex with me, angel, but I’m sure as fuck not teaching you how to be good at it for someone else. If I finally get to fuck you, I’m gonna teach you how to be good for me."
Your mouth parts in a soft gasp, just from his words and that innocent touch alone. Mark’s eyes track the movement, and his irises darken with something you can’t quite name—want, lust, need... you don’t know. All you know is that it’s fucking hot, and it almost makes you miss what he just said.
"Finally?" you breathe out.
The corner of Mark's mouth twitches into a smile, and a low, silky laugh slips from him. "Don't pretend like you don't know I want you." His finger slides to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re too fucking smart to be playing dumb with me, Y/N. You know you could have me on my knees if you just asked. I’d do anything if you just asked.”
You always knew you had Mark wrapped around your little finger, but you never realized it was because he wanted you the same way you’ve wanted him. Yes, you’d only asked him to help you with this plan because you know he struggles to say no to you; but a small, twisted part of you wanted Mark to be the one to take your virginity. Because he’s him—hot, lean, experienced, sweet, loyal Mark. Your Mark.
It’s all too much. His breath is too warm on your skin, his words too heated, his proximity too hot—he’s too hot. You whimper, and you watch as his pupils soften in response.
“Y/N,” he says softly now. “I need you to use your words to tell me what you want. If you don’t want to do this anymore—because, to me, it’s more than just practice—that’s fine. But if we do... this, us, it becomes real.”
Your mind goes fuzzy. Words? He thinks you have words after just confessing that this—that you—are something he wants? Almost like he senses your hesitation, he nuzzles deeper into your neck, his lips feather-light, dusting over your skin in a way that sets your nerves alight. It’s erotic, it’s intimate, it’s so damn sexy.
“I’m serious, Y/N.” His voice is soft, breath scorching against your skin, thumb grazing over your collarbone like he’s memorizing you. “I’ve imagined you—craved you—for years. If you want me to take your virginity, I’ll do it. Happily. But I’ll be your first and your last—not Xiaojun.”
The mention of your coworker feels irrelevant now—a distant, meaningless fantasy compared to this. The stupid office daydream you’d clung to seems laughable because the man you thought only saw you as a friend is standing right here, offering himself to you. Completely. Utterly asking to be yours. And who are you to deny him?
“I want this—”
Mark doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t let you finish your sentence—because he’s wasted too much damn time already. Too much time waiting, hoping, aching to hear you want him. Not just need him for something, but actually want him. Crave him. Desire him.
He has to kiss you. Now.
It starts slow, soft, and sweet. Both your mouths take their time exploring one another as his hand tenderly cups your face, holding you to him. But in no time at all, the heat builds, kisses stretching longer, deeper, until it’s not enough for him. Not nearly enough for you. A hum of approval slips from you the moment his tongue grazes yours, and he takes it as permission, sweeping in and taking control.
“I have fucking dreamed about this,” he pants against your lips. “About kissing you. About touching you. Tell me to stop if it’s too much, Y/N.”
Stop? He’s out of his damn mind if he thinks you want to stop. You shake your head against his lips, legs winding around his, and he takes the hint without hesitation. His hands find your waist, lifting you with ease until you’re resting around his hips. His eyes are fully dark now, black, and locked onto you. They never waver as he carries you both to his bedroom.
Mark lays you down carefully, like you’d break if he was any rougher, but his gaze tells a different story—intense, burning, desperate. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, and he just stares, eyes roaming every inch of you like he’s savouring the moment before he ruins you completely.
You’ve never been this intimate with a man before. Sure, you’re no stranger to your own fingers, to vibrators, and okay—maybe you don’t mind the occasional steamy make out session at a party. But this? In his room, under his stare, is different. You’re not even naked yet, and somehow, you already feel so bare, so exposed.
“I want to take my time with you, Y/N,” Mark murmurs, as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He gently pushes you back so you’re lying flat, his body hovering over yours. “I want to savour every inch of this pretty little body of yours... and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” you pant, nodding at the same time, and Mark smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips.
His hands slide up your legs, gliding over the fabric of your sweatpants, until they reach the hem. His eyes search yours, silently asking for confirmation, and you nod, breath catching in your throat. He tugs at your pants, so slow, so deliberate, and when they finally slip off, he lets out a low, groggy "fuck" at the sight of the pink lacy panties you’d chosen for this—for him.
You suddenly feel self-conscious, heat creeping up your chest.
"Knew I'd say yes, huh?" Mark coos, his hand tracing the band of your panties as he looks over your body, studying it because it's the first time he’s seeing you like this. Displayed for him.
You blush, squirming beneath him, overwhelmed by how new, how unfamiliar this all feels. Mark senses your discomfort and smiles softly.
"Don’t go shy on me now, pretty girl," he murmurs, "I’m losing my shit knowing you wore this with me."
His hands graze over your hip bone, fingers brushing gently, soothing as they explore the small hint of flesh you're revealing to him. The softness of his touch, of him, makes you ease up just a little.
“I wore the matching bra too,” you say on an exhaled breath.
Mark groans, his eyes closing as he takes in a slow, intentional breath of his own, nostrils flaring slightly. “Did you? Can I see, baby? Please?”
You nod, and those exploring hands of his glide up your stomach, fingers brush over your skin as he tugs the tight fabric of your tank top over your head. When it falls away, you're left in nothing but the matching set. The pink bralette, almost see-through, giving him a clear, vivid view of your pebbled nipples.
"So fucking beautiful, Y/N," he says, his voice strained, almost painfully. "Can you take it off for me?"
You smile, teasing, as your hands find the clasp at the back. "After I went through all this effort to put it on for you?"
He shakes his head with a small scoff of laughter, the sound easing your nerves a bit. That familiar banter, the playful back-and-forth, reminds you why you asked him—why you wanted him to do this in the first place. You trust him.
“Is this the part where I learn that you’re a fucking brat?” he mutters, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
“I can be, if you want me to be.”
Something flashes in his eyes—dark, predatory—and he leans in closer, his tone dropping an octave. “Take the bra off. Now, Y/N.”
And you do, the flimsy fabric slipping from your breasts and meeting the same fate as your sweats and tank. You feel so exposed, which is ridiculous considering how little modesty the bralette was offering in the first place. Still, your hands instinctively cross over your chest.
"Hey, don’t," Mark murmurs, his hand gently reaching up to move yours, his thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles around your wrist to reassure you. "You don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me, Y/N. If you want to stop—”
"No," you interrupt. "I mean, please... I want this... I want you, Mark. I’m just nervous."
His eyes soften at your words, and he licks his lips. "Can I touch you?"
You nod, and his hands steadily, gently travel up and down your stomach, hovering around your sternum before they rest beneath your breasts. You suck in a breath as his touch lingers. "Can I touch you here?" he asks, and again, you nod.
Mark’s hands gently cup your chest, the softness and weight of your tits filling his palms. The pad of his thumb teases over one of your nipples (pretty peaked nipples that are practically begging for his mouth) in a steady rhythm that has you arching into him. He continues, flicking over the sensitive bud until he elicits the reaction he wants: quiet, breathless whimpers and tiny darling moans from your mouth.
“You’re so damn perfect, Y/N,” he mutters, his eyes glued to your body as he tests his touches, watching in awe as your eyes flutter, roll, or widen. “So damn perfect for me.”
You moan, and his head dips to the valley between your breasts, his tongue flicking out to trail a slow, heated path up your skin. His mouth, warm and wet, captures your pebbled nipple, sucking and licking with a hunger that makes your body shiver. It’s then that you remember why Mark is perfect for this—he’s experienced.
“Pretty fucking tits,” he groans, “I’ll fuck these one day. Promise.”
He focuses entirely on your nipples, squeezing your breasts, and you swear you're already on the verge of coming undone for him, writhing beneath him. Terrified it’ll end too soon, your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him away from your chest to capture his lips in a desperate kiss.
His chest hovers over you, so close to you, but still hidden beneath layers of fabric. His jeans, too tight, too impeding. You want to feel him—skin to skin. It’s not fair. You’re lying here in nothing but your underwear, exposed and vulnerable, while he’s still fully dressed—his clothes a frustrating barrier that keeps you from feeling him the way you need to. You can’t stand it anymore.
Your fingers dig into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, desperate to rip it off and close the damn distance. "Mark," you breathe. "Take it off. Please."
“You want it off, huh?” He teases.
You’re beyond patience now, body aching for him. “Yes. I do.”
Mark’s eyes darken at the desperation in your voice. He sits up slightly, pulling away from you just enough to shed his shirt, the fabric tugging over his head and revealing the toned muscles of his chest. You can’t help but watch, your eyes glued to the way his hands move, but he’s taking his damn time. Frustrated, you reach for his belt, but he stops you, his hand brushing yours as he undoes it himself. The sound of it unbuckling makes your breath hitch.
Finally, his jeans slip down, revealing the taut curve of his thighs before he kicks them aside, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers. His bulge is prominent, straining against the tight material, and you swear you can’t take it any longer.
But before you can pounce, before you can touch him and feel him the way you want to, he’s hovering back over you, his body pinning you down, forcing your back flat against the bed.
“So eager, pretty girl,” he muses with a teasing smirk. “But you asked me to teach you, didn’t you? I’m in charge.”
He’s so controlled, so assertive, it sends a flood of need coursing through your body. His hands are back on you, gliding over your now fully exposed body. Well, not entirely exposed—his fingers toy at the edge of your panties, tracing, testing, taunting, as if waiting for your permission. And you’d give him it immediately, only he wants to ride this out, prolong it.
His fingers move to dip just beneath the fabric, but then he stops.
“I know you said you wanted to be good at this, Y/N,” he hums. “But I want to be good for you. Tell me what you like. Tell me how to touch this pretty pussy.”
Heat floods your cheeks and pools between your legs. From the way Mark smiles, and the fact that he’s cupping you through your underwear, you know he can feel it too.
“I-um—”
“I already told you to stop being shy with me, Y/N,” he says. “Don’t think I overlooked that comment about you getting yourself off. You wanna learn, so do I. Let me be a good boy for you.”
Your eyes lock onto his, and you can see the seriousness. He wants to know what makes you tick, what works for you, what gets you off—wants to be the one to do it. His breath hitches as he studies you, chest contracting with focus.
“I-I start with my clit,” you instruct, and his fingers follow suit, finally dipping under the fabric he’s been teasing for the last ten minutes right to the spot. You want to feel embarrassed telling him all the dirty ways you play with yourself, but you can’t. He won’t let you feel that way, because, like you said, he’s him—sweet, loyal Mark.
“Fuck, Y/N, you’re dripping for me,” he groans, voice thick with need. “Aching for me, aren’t you, baby?” You nod pathetically. “Then tell me, what do you do to your clit? Teach me.”
“I like small circles,” you whisper, your breath shaky.
“Like this?” he asks, his voice low as he carefully follows your instructions. It’s almost too careful. Too slow. You need more—so much more.
“Faster, Mark.”
His fingers speed up, the circles on your clit growing faster, the pressure he applies intensifies with each stroke. You moan, squirming beneath him, your hips shifting in desperate need for more—more of him.
"Can I try a finger, baby?" he asks, and you nod, wanting everything he has to give right now.
Mark shifts his gaze from your face down to where his hands are stuffed inside your panties. He watches as he trails his index finger up and down your slit slowly until it’s circling around your entrance before finally easing it inside. You gasp, feeling the initial stretch, and his eyes lock back onto yours, waiting for the sting to fade and the lust to take its place again. Once it does, he begins to move, his finger sliding in and out, in and out, faster and faster until your breaths come heavier.
“Mark,” you gasp on a moan, a thrill coursing through you as he picks up the pace.
Mark adds his thumb back to your clit, the combination of his fingers easing in and out of your drenched pussy and the attention to your sensitive nerves send waves of pleasure crashing over you. Because cumming has never felt like this—so close, so quick, so desperately needed. Mark must sense your closeness too because his lips quirk, devilish and taunting.
“You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl?” he asks, but it’s clearly not a question. The cocky bastard knows you are. “Or should I say finger? Think you could handle two?”
Your mind is incoherent from the pleasure, the foreign stretch of his fingers. Any thoughts you have dissolve into a haze of need, only capable of a frantic nodding at him because you want more, need more, need to cum. He eases in his middle finger, both digits slowing down as you adjust to him. Then, the world around you blurs; all that matters is the rhythm of his fingers and the growing knot forming in your stomach as his pace picks up. Each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, and you can feel the waves of your orgasms building, until it finally, deliciously, crashes over you.
Your vision blurs, and sounds you didn't even know you could make slip from your lips. All you can hear is Mark's incoherent, muffled praise—telling you how pretty, how perfect, how good you are for him.
When you come down from your high, he’s watching you intently, his hand running through your hair as you refocus back on him with hazy eyes. You’ve never experienced an orgasm like that, and as you notice the strained bulge in his pants, a surge of eagerness wells up in you. You want to return the favour, to please him, to learn how to be good the way you asked him to twach you.
You reach for his boxers, fingers trembling as you strip them off, revealing the thick hard length of him. Your breath catches at the sight of his cock, angry and needy and desperate. Mark looks down at you with his own haze-induced eyes.
“Please, Y/N.”
The heat radiating from him ignites a fire within you. You take a moment to admire the way he looks at you—hungry, eager. With a newfound confidence, you lean closer, your lips brushing against his skin, ready to give him the pleasure he’s so generously given you. You press soft, delicate kisses to his abdomen, watching as his stomach flexes in response.
You know you probably should suck his cock right now; that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Almost as if he can sense your hesitation, Mark’s fingers clamp around your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“You don’t have to, not yet, not ever if you don’t want to,” he says softly. “But you can touch it. Touch me, Y/N, please.”
That feels more like your speed, so you wrap a firm hand around his cock, giving it a slow, steady long tug. Mark's head rolls back from where he sits on the bed. Your hands tremble with nerves, this is all so new to you, and you desperately want to please him. But before you can overthink it, Mark’s words soothe your insecurities.
“Yeah,” he breathes out, “Just like that... so fucking good, Y/N.”
He's like a fucking mind reader, because that one comment, that small ounce of reassurance, has you stroking him faster. Your hand moves in a messy rhythm, feeling the weight of his cock in your palm.
As you continue to stroke him, you start to experiment with different techniques, trying out gentler touches and firmer grips. Mark's reactions are your guide, and you watch as his face contorts in pleasure, his eyes screwing shut as he lets out low groans. He sounds so sexy, you like it, you want more of him like this.
You feel a sense of power, knowing that you're the one bringing him to the edge. Your strokes become more insistent, your hand moving faster as Mark's breathing quickens. You can feel his cock throbbing in your hand, the veins standing out as he gets closer. Mark's body tenses, his muscles straining and that’s when suddenly, his eyes snap open.
“You gotta stop, Y/N,” he growls, his voice low and husky as he pulls your hands off his length. For a moment, you almost feel scorned, but then he adds, “I want to last until I’m at least inside of you...”
You both laugh, Mark's eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckles, and you feel a flutter in your chest. He gently lies you back on his bed, grabbing a pillow and placing it underneath your hips. As he fumbles with his nightstand, he rips open a condom and slides it along his cock. You can't help but watch, mesmerized by the sight. It’s oddly sexy. Your body responds instinctively, your hips arching upwards as if seeking him out.
As Mark positions himself between your legs, his head dips down to kiss you. It’s sweet, like the first time, and you think you could get used to them—you want to get used to them. The feeling of his lips on yours, on your cheek, the top of your head.
When your lips finally break apart, he holds eye contact with you, aligning himself with your pussy. He teases you, brushing against your folds, occasionally grazing your clit—his eyes watching your reaction, a smirk on his lips. Sensitive, he notes. And he has to note because there will be a time for more, a time where he’ll make you work for it. But today isn’t that day. Today is about you and him—together.
“Tap my arm if it’s too much. If you want to stop—”
“Mark,” it’s your turn to be stern now. “Please, just fuck me.”
He smirks, liking this side of you—the impatience, the newfound dirty mouth of yours. Something else to note for next time, he thinks.
Rubbing himself up and down your slit for a final time, Mark presses the head of his cock to your entrance, hips shifting forward to slowly push into you. His nostrils flare, and his teeth clench because he has to be careful, he has to be in control. He cannot—he will not—hurt you any more than he has to.
So, slowly. Torturously slowly. Mark eases into you, inch by tantalizing inch, until his tip coaxes past the small ring of resistance. You’re so tight—so impossibly tight—that he almost regrets letting you jerk him off before hand, because he’s already teetering on the edge of cumming from merely the first few inches. He’s waited far too long for this moment; the last thing he wants is to blow his load before he’s even begun to move.
He shifts his focus from his own pleasure to your face, keenly observing for any signs of discomfort. When he catches the slight scrunch of your nose, he leans down to kiss you, wanting to distract you from the sting of you stretching around his cock for the first time.
“You’re doing so good, pretty girl. You were made for me.”
He feels your body relax into the mattress at the praise and your hands wrap around his back, pulling him closer. It’s a silent invitation, a clear signal that you’re okay with more—that you need more.
His hips finally press flush against yours, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him, all of him. Your fingers dust up and down his spine as you get used to this, how full you feel, how complete.
“Move, Mark,” you whisper barely above a whisper. “Please.”
And he does. He rolls his hips, pulling out of you completely before sinking back in, slow and sensual. You moan—right into his ear, because he’s buried in your neck—and he nearly loses the last thread of control he’s holding onto. Mark quickens his pace, keeping his body flush against yours—like he needs to be as close as possible. Needs to consume you the same way you’ve consumed him for years.
“Yes, Mark,” you cry, your nails raking down his back, scratching, digging, marking into his skin.
“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good. You have no idea how fucking perfect you are.”
He reaches for your hand, prying it from his back to lace his fingers with yours, pinning them to the mattress. It’s gentle, it’s sweet—it’s so Mark. He fucks you slowly, his hands holding yours as he kisses you. Intimate, tender, and so fucking hot.
You tighten around him, and the squeeze makes something flicker in Mark’s eyes—something determined, something feral.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper between ragged breaths.
“Fuck, yes—please,” he groans. “Cum around my cock, pretty girl. I need it. I want it.”
Hearing him just as desperate, just as needy as you, sends you over the edge. Your lip trembles, your lashes flutter, and then—your second orgasm takes over you, ripping a scream of his name from your throat.
It’s the prettiest thing Mark’s ever seen, ever heard—the best thing he’s ever felt. And he swears this moment will be etched into his memory until the day he dies. He holds you close to his chest as you ride your high, feeling every desperate breath you take, swallowing every moan with wet open mouth kisses. And when he senses you’ve finally come down, he chases his own orgasm—greedy for it, for you.
He becomes ravenous for his own release, his hips pistoning faster, harder, as he drives deeper into you. His breaths come in ragged gasps, his chest contracting as his fingertips anchor your hips in place. With every thrust his cock throbs with an almost unbearable intensity until he lets out a low, guttural groan, his body shuddering with pleasure.
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispers your name, over and over again, like a mantra and he spills inside of the condom.
The room fills with a silence, punctuated only by the sound of your mingled breaths as he comes down. Your hands are still entwined, hearts still racing, and you both can’t do anything but look at each other. Eventually, Mark leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away. He eases out of you, removes the condom, and tosses it into the nearby trash can.
You watch him as he moves, and when he turns back to you—his gaze a mix of awe and satisfaction—you can’t help but smile.
“You know when I said I loved you platonically?” you ask, and his brows knit together. He looks like he’s about to have a full-blown panic attack, so you quickly put him at ease. “I lied. I actually just love you.”
Relief washes over his face before it melts into a smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.
summary: your ex left years ago to chase his dj dreams, taking your heart with him. now, johnny’s made it big and is back for a hometown show, except this time you make sure he takes all of you.
(or: he only threw this party for you.)
wc: 3.3k
genre: angst, smut, exes-to-lovers 18+ mdni
cw: unprotected pinv sex (no </3), mirror sex, backshots!, yearning, manhandling, sex in a dressing room, fingering, nipple play, possessive johnny, dirty talk, pet names: baby, love
the music is blasting, you can feel the beat of the bass in your chest, and people all around you are moving to the music.
you look up at the one they all surround, and you see him.
you haven’t seen johnny in years. he hasn’t been here in years.
he looks good—hair falling behind his ears, headphones framing his face, tattoos adorning his exposed arms. some you recognize and some you don’t.
you shouldn’t be here, not when he walked away from you all those years ago to chase his dreams.
you don’t blame him—he really had something going with his budding dj career, and the sheer crowd at his hometown show today is living proof of that.
that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt back then, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt now.
when your friend sent you the post saying he was coming to town for a show, you couldn’t even see the account—you had him blocked. you’d heard he’d made it big, seen some clips, but you never let yourself indulge.
against your better judgement, you unblocked him, and indulge you did, taking in all the content you’d missed over the years—his travels, friends, highs, lows—everything he’d posted showing how he’d been doing in his time away from you.
and god, he looked happy—like he didn’t think of you nearly as much as you tried not to think about him.
you’re happy, in a way, but he’s always lingered in the back of your mind, hanging onto your subconscious like a vice.
so why the hell are you here?
maybe you were hoping that coming here tonight could help you let go—that maybe, just maybe, if you saw just how far of a distance you’d grown apart with your own eyes, you’d be able to close your chapter with him forever.
but as you watch him sway to the music, a soft smile on his face as he scans the crowd’s reactions to the magic he works on the turntable, you know you’ve made a mistake coming here.
you should’ve never unblocked him, never bought this ticket, never come over here. it’s stupid, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.
you linger by the exit, but stay for the rest of his set.
and as he thanks the crowd for a great night, you feel your entire body jolt as he looks straight in your direction.
there’s no way he could’ve seen you, not from this far, but the way his whole body freezes is too noticeable. quick, but noticeable. he resumes his grateful smile, waving goodbye to the roaring crowd as you turn to leave.
you rush out the door, cheers of “encore! encore!” drowning out behind you. the muffled music starts back up through the walls.
you let out a heavy sigh as you walk away with an even heavier heart. after tonight, you’ll go back to trying to forget him, though any progress you’d made was probably undone.
so much for closure.
a call of your name in a voice all too familiar stops you in your tracks.
you turn around slowly, scared of who you’re going to see. but you know exactly who it is. that same deep voice that called your name with so much love until it didn’t—how could you ever forget?
and when you finally look at him, it feels like everything’s stopped. you can’t even hear the music anymore, not over the sound of your own heart racing.
“johnny.”
he’s catching his breath. did he run over here? what about his encore? how did he see you from all the way over there?
you have so many questions, yet you can say nothing more than his name.
“come with me.”
he grabs your hand, leading you back to the side entrance you assume he came out from, and you let him. the second you feel his hand in yours again, any resistance you could’ve had dissipates.
when he doesn’t feel you fighting his hold, he interweaves his fingers with yours, and oh, how you missed this feeling. you could tell the feeling of his hands on yours with your eyes closed.
you can hear the music through the walls again, and he leads you to a random dressing room. you still don’t know what to say to him, even as he clicks the door shut.
you don’t get the chance to speak.
in a second, you’re up against the door, his lips on yours—it’s messy, hungry, greedy, as if he’s trying to eat you whole.
your first instinct is to push him away, to ask him why he’s doing this after all this time, but you don’t. you can’t, not when having his lips against yours feels so right. it’s the feeling you’ve been missing, only appearing in your memories and dreams.
he explores your mouth as if he knows it like the back of his hand—like he never forgot it.
so you kiss him back with just as much force, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through his short locks, gripping them as if he’d disappear if you let him go.
he groans into your mouth at your reciprocation, pressing his body even tighter against yours. you shiver at how firm his body feels against yours. it was one thing to see him up there, but being caged between those arms you couldn’t keep your eyes of is another. he’s always been big, but he’s definitely bulked up since the last time you saw him.
one of his hands makes its way to your waist, down your hip, and back to your ass, giving a light squeeze. he trails it down, hooking it behind your knee as he raises your leg to wrap around him, slotting himself between your legs.
you can feel how hard he is, aching against the confine of his perfectly fitting jeans. he rocks against you slightly, your mouths still melded in a heated embrace, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth at the feeling.
it feels like there’s a fire in your stomach, but there’s also a giddy feeling—like butterflies fluttering around.
you can still get a reaction out of him. he still wants you, even if you can only see it from the way his body reacts to you. for now, that’s okay.
you move your hips to meet his eagerly, and with your arms still gripped around his neck, his other hand falls to your other thigh, lifting you into his arms. your mouth separates from his in shock at the feeling of your being lifted into the air, clinging tighter to him so you won’t fall. you’re both breathless, but his mouth chases yours, settling right back into a deep kiss.
your ass lands on gently on the vanity table jutting out from the wall, and as johnny parts from you, a trail of saliva separating your lips, you finally get a good look at him. the lights on the mirror behind you illuminate him.
he’s grown so much. you can see the way his face has lost the roundness it had in your younger years and the slight bags under his eyes, yet he’s still the same johnny you loved.
he seems to be taking you in, too, his eyes moving between your eyes, and back down to your lips. his hands bunch up the sides of your shirt, letting his hands run over the bare skin of your waist. you shudder as his fingers dip into the waistband of your pants, not quite reaching as far in as you’d like them to.
he tugs your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra from behind you with practice, and as he removes your bra, he breathes out in awe.
“fuck, you’re just as beautiful as i remember.”
you don’t get to reply before he drags you off the table, flipping you around in a flash. your hands move to steady yourself against the table, bent over slightly with johnny pressed up against you.
you look up and see the two of you in the mirror, and immediately you’re clenching at the thought of what you’ll see him doing to you. he runs his hands up your chest, loving the way your tits look in his hands, his fingers brushing your nipples carefully.
he watches the way your expression twists with every pinch and flick of his fingers, his mouth coming down on your neck. his warm breath fans along your skin before he’s leaving deepening kisses along your neck and shoulders, every so often nipping harder in a way that you know will leave marks.
you want him to leave marks, you want reminders of him to come.
you press your backside against him, whining out pathetically. “johnny, please.”
he obliges you right away, knowing exactly what you want. he’s always known exactly what you want. he wastes no time tugging your pants and soaked underwear down, and you gasp at the feeling of his fingers sliding between your folds, coating his fingers in your juices.
“i’ve got you, baby,” he mutters, mouth falling back on your shoulder, and your head dips at the feeling. he runs his fingers up and down your slit, dancing around your entrance, before carefully teasing a finger into you. you gasp at the feeling of his long digit easing into you, feeling each knuckle until its to the hilt.
he feels you clench around him, and after he slides his finger right back out to the tip, he dips back in with another finger in tow. mewls of pleasure leave your lips as he scissors his digits in you, stretching you just right, picking you apart like he always did.
with the way his other hand snakes around your front to toy around with your clit, you know he wants you to fall apart. you want him closer, to fill you up to the brim, but you know he won’t do it unless you cum first. he’d always made you cum first.
you move your hips in times with his hands, knowing this has to go exactly as he wants it to, and you’re okay with that. you’re more than okay with that—trusting your body into his hands.
he thrusts his fingers in and out of you in time with his swipes over your clit, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening as the seconds pass.
you finally gain the strength to tilt your head up just enough to see your reflection, and when you make eye contact with johnny through the mirror, his gaze dark and fixed on you, you’re finished.
“go ahead, baby,” he instructs, and you fall apart in his hands, mouth parted in an oh as the knot unravels, legs closing around his hands as he works you through your orgasm. you can barely keep your eyes open with the way he still plunges his fingers in and out of you, fighting through the grip your clenching pussy and closed legs have on his hands.
he finally pulls his fingers out of you and you collapse against the table, supported by one of his arms wrapping around your middle to keep your legs from completely giving out.
he brings his free hand, the one he pulled out from your cunt, to his mouth, and you cry out as his tongue darts out, lapping up your juices from his fingers, his eyes still trained on yours. it lights another fire in you.
with some newfound strength, you reach behind you, palming at the painfully hard tent in his jeans, trying to blindly fumble with the buttons of his pants. you don’t care how desperate you look, you need him inside of you, now.
a smirk lights his face as he watches you fumble with his pants, his own hand moving down to take care of it for you, unbuttoning his pants with ease and pulling them down just enough to untuck his raging member from his underwear. “you want me that bad?”
you want him so badly, more than anything right now, and you let him know that.
“yes, yes—johnny, please fuck me.” you press your dripping mound against him, gasping as you feel the heat slot between your lips, grinding up and down. “johnny.. i need you.”
that seems to do it for him, and he wraps his hand around his cock, pressing his tip into your waiting hole. you hiss at the stretch as he slowly eases in, not quite used to taking anyone as big as he is in such a long time.
“so fuckin’ tight—fuck, so tight for me.”
you lean back into him, feeling every ridge of him as he inches in bit by bit and as he bottoms out, you feel like you could cry. he fills you up so perfectly.
he lets you settle for a bit, swiveling his hips to get you readjusted to him, little gasps and cries leaving you with each movement.
“god, baby—you feel so good around me.” your eyes, which closed tightly sometime during his bottoming out, open back up to meet his, and his gaze narrows into a glare that sends shivers down your spine. “have you had anyone else here? let anyone else in what belongs to me?”
you clench around him at his possessive streak. he was always a laid back lover, never one to get unreasonably jealous, but he knew how to remind you who you came home to.
you’d had a few flings in the past few years, even had one relationship that lasted a few months, but no one ever compared to johnny—you don’t think anyone ever could.
he pulls out, thrusting back in at once, your body jolting against the table. “answer me, love.”
love. his voice is still harsh, but he reminds you of a time where the soft nickname was synonymous with your name in your world with johnny. your voice trembles, but you’re honest. you could never lie to him.
“y-yes.”
he thrusts again, harder, his hands moving to grip at your waist, fingers digging into the plush flesh.
“fuck,” is all he says before he drives into you harsher, angrier, setting a steady pace that has you seeing stars, his front slapping against your ass with every thrust. “fuck,” he repeats, more agitated.
his pace picks up, slapping sounds and moans filling the room, his grip surely leaving bruises that will reveal themselves in the morning. you can barely form any thoughts, but an ugly feeling rears itself in your stomach.
“what about you?” you ask, quietly—scared of the likely possibility that he’d had other people in this position, that he’d shared himself with them. held them just like he held you.
his focus momentarily falters, but he returns his attention to you, still moving his hips against yours as he responds breathily.
“no. never.” his whole demeanor softens just slightly, but you think you still know him enough to recognize even the slightest shift. you watch as his face falls into a pained grimace through the mirror. “even if i thought about trying to, all i could think about was you.”
his words send a wave of both relief and confusion through all the pleasure. you remember the shell of a person you were after he left you, waiting for him by the window dreaming he’d come back, calling his phone only for it to ring and ring until you reached his voicemail.
“i’m yours, love,” he grunts.
how can he come back after all this time and tell you everything you’d needed to hear since the day he left?
you convinced yourself he didn’t love you, and part of you wishes he would just treat you like someone that he never loved—it wouldn’t have your heart clawing its way out of your chest as he fucks into you desperately.
but as if trying to rewrite every bit of uncertainty you experienced, this johnny is making it so, so clear.
“and you’re mine,” he growls, though underneath his strong facade is the hope that what he’s saying is true. “no one could make you feel as good as i do—no one can fuck you like this, fill you up like this.”
your eyes rake up and down your forms in the mirror. his hands around your hips, his lips on your shoulder, marks blossoming over your skin.
“say it—say you’re mine,” he almost pleas, his face still pained. as your eyes drag back and forth between the two of you, you know. you love the way you look in his arms, how he makes you fall apart like no one else ever has.
so you admit it.
“y-yeah—oh-,” you stutter with an angling of his hips. “i’m yours, i’m yours.” you cry out as he snaps against you even more intensely at your confirmation, like it’s broken the last bit of restraint he had.
that’s all the two of you need, your eyes not leaving his as he snakes a hand around your front between your thighs, rubbing quick, harsh circles into your clit, hissing as you clench around him at the sensation.
your eyes flutter, and your head threatens to fall, but you use your strength to keep your eyes on johnny through the mirror—on both of you. you want to burn this sight into your memory so that you’d never forget it again.
he bites his lip, deep, gravelly groans leaving his throat as he chases both of your highs, but as his lips part, words spill out before he can catch them.
“i love you, i love you, i love you.” his voice is still deep and rough, but filled with pure desperation, and it’s this confession that has you tumbling over the edge with a loud cry, your legs trembling under the force of his thrusts pushing you into overstimulation.
he follows soon after, pulling out at the last second and releasing over your ass and lower back, the warm spurts painting your skin.
you lean your head against the cool glass of the mirror as you both catch your breath. he slowly but carefully uses his shirt to clean his cum off of your back, tucks himself back into his pants with a sharp intake, and spins you around gently, holding you against him.
you let him hold you, not that you think you even have it in you to deny him. you don’t know if it’ll be the last time, but you don’t want it to be.
you break the silence.
“why did you leave?” you mutter against his chest. you breathe in his scent, taking in the combination of cologne, sweat, and a faint hint of cigarettes.
he pulls apart from you, holding your face in his hands before laying a sweet, deep kiss on your lips.
“because i’m stupid,” he admits with a sad smile. “i thought about coming back, but it also felt unfair to both you and me.”
a brief silence passes. you want him to expand on that, but you have an even more urgent question at hand.
“did you mean what you said earlier?” you ask. it hurts to doubt what you’ve wanted for so long, but you’re so scared it was in the heat of the moment. it’s the last confirmation you need before trusting yourself to him again.
“i told myself if i didn’t see you tonight, i’d let go of you forever. i—” he pauses, taking a deep breath, and you feel the way he tenses. “i only put on this show hoping you’d come.”
he holds you to him again, his embrace feeling just a bit fearful, yet still so certain. he lets his head drop onto your neck, breathing you in, rememorizing the feeling of you in his arms.
“i love you, and now that i have you back, i won’t let go of you again.”
you close your eyes, leaning your head against his. it feels as if you’ve just placed the last piece of a puzzle you left long unfinished, and it’s time to start a new one that you’ll figure out in time. together.
you love him, too—you never stopped.
end.
a/n: first song fic? is anyone else in emotional mental physical anguish whenever dj johnny comes up on the tl…. he’s crazy.. but anyways here’s something short and bittersweet, once again trying to get back into the groove of writing! feeling a bit freer now not including weed in everything tho i do miss writing stoner!nct (hopefully will be back soon)
i love this song and i love dj johnny be w my whole heart
hi !!!!
i’m literally spiraling and need to anonymously dump this whole chambers slow-burn nightmare before i lose it 😭💔
so i interned for a month under a lawyer and there was this associate who from literally day one was glued to me. eye contact that never broke even when another intern was right there. always choosing me over everyone else first to get research, first to stay back for client conferences, first to join arb hearings, “you come with me” in the car while another girl co intern (WHO HAS ALREADY INTERNED THERE TWICE AND KNOWS THE ASSOCIATE SINCE LONG) started walking over. defended me when a clerk tried to gatekeep (saying “no she’s really helpful she’ll learn”). always circled behind my chair during breaks or while trying to explain me something while using my laptop to show me docs., looked dead in my eyes the whole time while i explained stuff and always fucking smiling or looking at me like am reciting some sonnet, he always got distracted staring at me mid-convo like he couldn’t focus on anything else. wherever he was in the room if i looked up he was already looking at me.
always teased my party-hard/weed chaos in the cutest way. mimicked my drunk “hehehehe police hehehe drunk hehehe weed” the next day like he’d replayed the 15-min 2am call in his head all night and found it adorable. laughed nonstop when someone exposed my “religious girl main feed vs total opposite spam” duality right in front of him.
office party night was next level. he orbited my group the whole time, came up behind me alone in the food section “where were you? heard you have a boyfriend?” (fishing hard). and when a drunk clerk got disrespectful so to diffuse the situation i asked the clerk that lets head out so he immediately said “no come back stay here w/ me” and handled it so i didn’t have to. apologized to me like “sorry you had to witness that”. walked me to the bar alone and talked. cut me off drinks (saying “no she won’t have” even when i pouted and bartender sided with me) bc “you’ve had enough” + "how'll you be safe" + “pepper spray isn’t enough” + “i can’t sleep until i get your texts that you reached home” + “i’m so happy you text me you’re safe”. confessed he waits up for my safe texts every late night. said “that is one of the traits of your personality that i love a lot. you’re very loveable and memorable”. deep in convo he said he wanted to “talk” to me “i wanna talk to you… how about we grab lunch tomorrow or maybe i can cook for you as well” and later invited me to stay over at his place for the night (“don’t worry i have another room you can stay there”). let me rest my head/chin on his arm the whole car ride home while he kept looking back at me and saying i wanna talk to you we need to go out for lunch etc etc. like dude honestly that night said some things...everyone left the party and it was just the two of us...an associate and an intern drinking at the bar and talking while he's urging me to have food and i am going on about how i am self sufficient(?) and how i have how to be safe even in the dead night.. while all he was doing was smiling at me and saying still i worry about you...you're different and i have been noticing you since d-1 and i wanna know so much about you, you have a lot in you and i can see it etc etc.
another event was when it was 2am and me and my 3 other co interns were sloshed af and we were speed driving to a club and the police-stopped us. so i called him since well he's a lawyer as well but i forgot that i was blackout drunk. and i was rambling about being stopped + having weed for 15 full minutes giggling the whole time he stayed on the line, didn’t hang up, told the others “just reach home guys you’re drunk”. night before this night me and another co intern went out to drink and i didnt have my phone on me just my laptop and later she just left me alone in the bar without saying anything so i got bored and wanted to work so i connected my laptop to some wifi and texted him if he had any work. next morning confronted me “how tf were you texting at 12 if you reached at 4am and you dont even have a phone on you while you're out partying” "i was finally happy that you reached home at 12 maybe that's why you texted me asking for work but i just got to know you reached home ALONE at 4am". lectured me hard “are you mad it’s 4am empty roads pepper spray ( audience pls notice that this man remembered every small detail i said on the party night) doesn’t work what would you have done” + “i’m worried now that you’re leaving what if you pull such stunts there” + “don’t pull this with me pls” (that pls was so soft and desperate).
after the internship ended he kept pulling me back urgent voice notes at dawn, asking me to wait during meetings, fond face-drop smiles when i waved bye, “chill it’s ok” when i over-apologised about work, saying “had i not been assigned work rn i would have taken you out” + “whenever you’re nearby come we’ll grab coffee or lunch”, locking in “saturday it is” when i mentioned coming back to chambers, saying “you can always come back but i haven’t even started teaching you yet”.
ALSO he even brought up the 8yr age gap three separate times unprompted, i shut it down every time “you’re kidding not at all” and he just repeated “yes i am” like he was testing if i cared.
but then i sent a draft… 4 messages seen in 10 mins, radio silence for days. i also drunk texted and then deleted texts at 12am and 6am...he never saw them anyways. no “what happened?”, no follow-up, nothing. SILENCE !
DUDE i’m done texting first. am so not going on saturday. keeping it fully professional from now on only hitting him up in 4-5 days when i have actual work ready.
like was all the softness real? the orbiting, the teasing, the protective mode, the “i love that trait about you”, the “i can’t sleep till you’re safe”, the “i would’ve taken you out / cook for you / stay over”, the “i wanna talk to you”, the fond smiles? or did i imagine the obsession bc he panics and disappears when he actually likes someone? 😭💔 like i wouldn't remember smallest of the smallest details about someone if i am not interested in them... i wouldnt make "inside jokes" infront of other interns and associates that only the two of us know the ref. to. i wouldnt fucking care if someone came back home at ass o'clock or is going out in a "dangerous" city w/o a phone at night. i mean i would be concerned but not that much that i lecture them the next morning. i wouldnt keep looking at them when they're hungover af and smile and giggle saying "this is so interesting to watch" like uGH!
sorry for the massive essay but thank you for being my safe place to delulu-vent everything ps; am only asking authors i love to read and would love advice from. but pls feel free to not respond. mwah
that was an interesting read actually. you’re welcome to vent on here anytime :)
golden hour ⋆˚꩜｡ mark lee
'she looking at me with no patience, so dangerous -
- i'm in your brain like ooh-la-la-la'
5.3k, smut, fem!reader is ovulating, feelings are involved (mutual), oral (fem receiving), spit kink, p in v, unprotected (don't do that), mark cums inside, fluffy-ish, not edited at all i'm sorry
“…fuck, fuck, fuck…”
What in the hell did you walk in on?
Closing the door to your apartment behind you, quietly, twisting the knob to not make a single sound, you tip toed toward the kitchen table and set your purse down. Then your keys. Then, you jumped again.
“Fu-huck!”
His whine echoed from his room, out into the tiny hallway, into the kitchen, and up your skirt. Twisting your knees, squeezing your thighs together, you bit down on your bottom lip and cursed the fact you hadn’t gotten laid in months.
Having Mark for a roommate didn’t help.
Not when he sounded like that.
Pressing your hands into the wood, you sucked down a deep breath and shook it off. He was a male within a few feets radius of you, you didn’t want him, especially not right now, at the start of this week when you wanted anything and everything that walked. Just earlier on your walk home a street vendor complimented your legs, a catcall really, but you very well could’ve spun around and shown them to him up close.
You didn’t want Mark. You were ovulating and overstimulated and sensitive. And he’s an attractive guy, you’ve told him that before, he knows it, everyone thinks hes sexy.
His bedroom door swung open and your stomach dropped past your knees. He wore grey sweats only, and his headphones lived around his neck, his hair a mess from where they once sat on his head.
Games. Gaming. Gamer. He was playing games.
Not fucking someone into his mattress. Though it was hard to tell the difference, he sucked air harshly through his teeth just the same, no matter the activity.
Not that you listened. Or paid attention. Or touched yourself when you knew he had his hand wrapped around his cock thinking his sounds were muffled by the low beat of his nighttime playlist full of underground this guy eats, trust me rappers.
“Hey,” he smiled at you, a flash of perfect teeth with a boyish curl of his lips, “Thought I heard you come in.”
“Hi,” you sighed, standing up straight, composing yourself. Your eyes dropped to his toned middle, his perfectly sculpted chest, the silver chain hanging around his neck…
He swaggered for the fridge, coming closer to you, bodies separated by the table in the middle of the kitchen. The expanse of his back, just as honey, just as broad, just as built as his front, as his everything else. Mark wasn’t a big guy, but jesus god almighty did everything on him fit together in perfect harmony.
“How was work?” he asked, pulling a water bottle from a shelf, knobby fingers wrapping around the plastic. Arm flexing as he twisted off the cap and brought the spout to his lips, he turned to you and watched you while he drank.
A slight furrow of his brows beneath his undone hair, a pout in his lips, especially after he pulled the bottle away, the wide innocence in his eyes he wears as a facade, a trick, a ploy, because beneath that purity…
“Did you hear me?”
His smile settled into a smirk.
“Hm?” you hummed, and you watched him drag his eyes up and down your body. Glancing down at yourself you felt your cheeks flush of all color.
Bent over the table like you were, your knees had turned in. Thighs squeezing together, you practically trembled. Embarrassing. Humiliating really. Emitting a horniness reading absolutely off the charts, he could tell.
“Uh, yeah,” your voice almost squeaked. Pushing off the table you brushed your hands together and scooped up your things. “Work was… good.”
Mark leaned against a counter, his abs flexing ever so slightly. He crossed an arm over his chest and sipped his water, eyes narrowing.
“You’re lying,” he said, tongue darting between his lips, pointing at you with the bottle. Eyes glancing to his glistening lips, you withheld a whimper and shook your head.
You’ve got to get out of here.
“Not lying,” you said with the smallest of giggles, forcing some sort of smile onto your face. “I gotta shower.”
Starting for your bedroom that lived at the end of the hall, adjacent to Marks, his laugh paralyzed you. Sarcastic, knowing, sadistic. It bled into your ears, melted over your skin, and you despised what it did to your heart.
“You had your proposal today,” he started, pushing off the counter with his backside, padding over to the hall where you stood begging the bathroom to come closer to you so you wouldn’t have to withstand his presence any longer. “The big one. Your boss would be there, all the guys who think they have big dicks that own the company… Right?”
Turning slowly, very, very slowly, meeting his slightly confused expression, you nodded
“Riiiight,” he sang, voice going low and gravelly. A chill ran down your spine, one you’re hoping he didn’t notice. “I’ve listened to you all month. You’ve been dreading today, ‘cause you knew they weren’t gonna go for your team. They chose that asshole with the money, didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, and he tipped his chin up, looking down at you. The ache between your thighs, the heat beneath your skin, grew tenfold under his stare.
You could reach out, grab him, fall onto the floor, yank down his sweatpants, slip your panties aside and sink onto him. It wasn’t even about him, you think, maybe. He’s a guy. A man who chronically oozed sex appeal, who caught the eye of everyone walking down the city streets. He’d be something hot, and hard, to fill yourself with, to relieve yourself upon, getting you through this week so you didn’t have to succumb to your vibrator or your own fingers…
He licked his lips again, the tip of his tongue sliding along his bottom lip dangerously slow.
Back and forth… back and forth… back and-
“You still with me?” he asked within a breath, almost a whisper, pulling you out of a trance.
You needed to leave.
Gulping, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. Shook him out of your head. Him and his hot, shirtless self with his grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you knew he wasn’t wearing anything beneath them because the definition between his hips, down his pelvis winked at you.
“I’m fine.” Snapping your eyes open, you glared at him. “You’re right. Bad day. Thanks so much for reminding me.” You spun on your heels and stormed down the hall, stepping into your bedroom. He attempted to follow, arms shooting out at his side, eyes going wide, all signs of playing wiped from his cheeks.
“Hey, wait, I didn’t mean to do that, I was only trying to-“
You slammed your door shut.
In his face.
Mark Lee was not allowed in your bedroom, not right now. And probably not anytime in the near future. And then some.
This week sucked. A goddamned reminder that you had the worlds sexiest roommate and couldn’t do a thing about it. That the crush you’ve tried to swallow away for a year now was very much still real, very much still hanging over your head, something you can’t seem to escape. Not when your body quite literally begged you to reproduce with him.
Sighing, eyes falling shut, you threw your head back against the door.
Why Mark Lee???
Why your roommate you’ve grown tumultuously close to, closer than anyone else to you at this point in your life???
The Mark Lee who brings home girls some weekends, who goes out to party with friends he met in college, who works remotely, rarely has to leave the apartment, so he’s always here, always saying hi to you, always quick to greet you and bid you a good day when you leave in the morning…
Criminal really, how domestic it all seemed. How some days he’ll hint toward it, completely destroying weeks of suppression you worked oh so hard to build, only to now have to do it all over again.
You promised yourself you wouldn't get to this point.
That living with someone as attractive as Mark would work.
Guys and girls can be friends, you and Mark, you'd beat the stereotype.
Maybe it was time to move out.
Pushing off of your door to peel your top layers off, leaving a shirt and your skirt on to move to the bathroom with, you pulled pins from your hair and slumped onto your bed to pull your socks off.
Glancing about the space, your cozy bedroom you put together yourself, with Marks help, he really etched himself into every part of your life.
A hoodie of his laid over the back of a chair, a pair of his sunglasses sat on top of your dresser, some of the earrings in your jewelry box were his... For gods sake, you shared the same shampoo and soap.
Digging your hands through your hair, splaying yourself backwards on your bed, you reached for your laptop and pulled it over your stomach. Opening it, you punched Apartments.com in to the search bar and let available places in your area, nearby work, pop up.
Scrolling for about a minute, eyeing the monthly rent in comparison to location and appearance, you squeezed your eyes shut and groaned.
Now was not the time.
Tossing your laptop to your mattress, not bothering to log out or shut it, you snatched your towel and disappeared into the bathroom, allowing the hot water to wash away work stress, ovulating thoughts, and feelings.
Wrapping yourself in your towel, tucking it in so it stayed put, you smoothed lotion over your exposed skin, up your neck, down your chest, around your arms. Making note of where your necklace and earrings were on the counter that you'd have to come back for, you picked up your clothes, flipped off the light, and peeked out into the hallway for any sign of Mark.
Years you've lived here, and yet the act of running from the shower to your bedroom performed like some sort of humiliation ritual.
Not for Mark, of course. He'd wander around in his towel for hours.
The apartment was quiet. No games, no whines, no Mark.
Maybe he left.
Stepping out of the bathroom, leaving the door cracked, you took two giant strides toward your door and spun inside swiftly, turning the knob as you closed your door, just in case he was still here somewhere.
"What are you looking at these for?"
Jumping a mile, grabbing onto the top of your towel, you whirled around with a gasp.
He was sitting on your bed with your laptop on his legs that were folded under him.
"Mark!"
He glanced up at you, his brows furrowed and focused, paying no mind to how your cheeks flushed and your body still dripped. "When were you planning on moving?"
"I wasn't, I-I was just-"
Looking down at the screen, he squinted at something. "Looking for apartments in this building."
Stepping toward your bed, you held up a finger. "Everywhere, not just this building."
He scoffed, his lips perking into the tiniest of smirks. "So, you admit it. You're moving out." The way he looked at you...
Both hands held onto your towel, pressing to your chest for your own sanity and composure.
You were naked.
He was on your bed, half naked.
"I wasn't planning on it," you sighed, eyes wide, hoping to tide him over with your words so that he'd leave and you could continue your search, or, at least put some clothes on. "You saw me when I came in here, I was stressed, so it was the first thing I thought of to do to help my nerves, I guess, I-"
Setting the laptop aside, he rose to his feet, head cocking to the right. All of his accessories were gone, it was just him, his sweats, and that silver chain around his neck.
"How is a new apartment gonna help relieve your stress at work?" he asked, taking small steps toward you. His frame stood bigger than your own. More clothed than you, taller than you, you sunk backward, your body pressing against your door. "I did see you, you were..." His eye flickered to your lips. "Upset."
Five inches separated you.
"Mark," you whispered, and he looked at you. "It's just a bad day."
"Is it?" he asked, closing two more inches, eyeing your parted lips as your breath hitched.
Gulping, you nodded, holding onto the cotton that covered you even tighter. "Bad day."
Narrowing his eyes, you could feel his warm breath trickling over your skin still damp from the shower. "So, you thought a new apartment would cure that bad day?" He didn't let you answer, cutting you off before you started. "Why don't you just tell me what you really need, sweetheart," he whispered, closing the gap between you, pressing himself against you, "And we can stop playing fucking games."
His hands pressed against the wood of the door, his arms caging you in. Chest to chest, his nose nudged yours and he smirked as your eyes fluttered shut.
Intoxicating.
Every siren in your head shot off.
His warmth, his presence, his smell, his words, his lips.
"Look at me," he murmured, and you obeyed, meeting his proud smile. "Good girl," he cooed, nudging your nose with his. Your knees trembled. He let a soft laugh loose. "Yeah, you like that. I knew it."
"Knew it?" you breathed, your heart pounding between your lungs.
Mark licked his lips and popped his brows. "I hear you too, sweetheart." His lips ghosted yours, smiling as your face screwed up in disbelief. "Oh, yeah," he sang, "You're filthy. How many toys you got in that drawer over there? Wanna play?"
Writhing, pressing your legs together, your core slick already, you whined and shook your head. "Mark."
Parting his lips, softening his face, he pouted. "Oh, babe, you're not in trouble." Taking a hand to your chin, he danced his thumb over your cheek, swooning as you melted into his touch. "I'm teasing," he whispered, taking in how you stared up at him, unable to look at anything else since he said look at me.
Swallowing thickly, you took shallow breaths, your mind tuning to the sound of his voice.
Mark pinched your cheek gently, his brows steadying over his deep brown eyes. The way you stared at him, like he hung the stars and held the answer to all of your problems...
"I know what you need," he said just above a whisper, his fingers drawing over your skin gently, dancing down your neck. "As soon as you walked in the door, I could tell." His finger hooked below your chin, lifting it more, your doe eyes deepening. "Fuck," he whispered. "I'll leave you alone, okay, you can get into that drawer-"
He stepped away from you, and you reached for him, hands grabbing onto his bare biceps.
"Mark-"
Your towel slipped.
He didn't look.
His entire being softened.
Waiting.
His eyes never left yours.
Sucking in a shaky breath, he pushed out, "Yeah?"
Clenching your jaw, you gave him the tiniest nod of your head, and he groaned.
"Tell me," he whispered. The feeling of your fingers digging into his skin made his lashes flutter. "Say the words," he shook his head, "Or, you get nothing."
Steadying your breath, breaking through the part of you that longed for him to just give in and swallow you whole, you said, “I need you.”
It was all he needed.
Pushing you up against the door, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck and the other slipping down your body, Mark opened his mouth and pressed his lip to your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin as your arms hooked around his neck. Rocking with him, letting his weight push you to where he wanted you to be, you followed, body lax, under his control.
His fingers slipped between your legs, dragging through your folds, pressing to your clit. Moaning against your neck, grinding himself into you at the sound of your own whimper, he lifted his head and touched his forehead to yours.
“So fucking wet,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss your lips, heavy yet slowly, his tongue poking through to meet with yours, “You’ve been pent up all day, haven’t you?”
“Three days,” you gasped, clinging to him, the massage of his fingers making you tremble.
His tongue dragged over your lips. “Three days?” Pressing wet kisses to your cheek, he muttered, “You’ve been this horny for three days?” Pulling away from you briefly, watching you writhe with every twist of his fingers, every brush of his thumb over your clit, he started to smile. The hand around your neck tightened, pressing into the sides.
“Mark,” you moaned, and the sound he made lit a spark in your belly.
Screwing your eyes shut, you thrashed against the door, knees going weak as he slid two into you, his thumb in a steady rhythm over your bud. Grinding into his hand, throwing your hips in a circle, his smile fell into a smirk.
“You want it bad,” he muttered, dipping down to nip at your neck. “What can I do to you, baby?”
Feeling your belly tighten every time you became aware that this was Mark doing this to you, touching you, making your toes curl, you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold back. Shame was lost on you.
Clawing at his back, gasping for air, a moaning mess, you babbled, “Anything, anything, y-you can do anything, I don’t… Fuck… Mark.”
“Good fucking girl,” he cooed, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth before his lips were latched to you once more. Pumping his fingers into you, curling them towards him, you shook. Bending at the knees, he pressed hot kisses down your chest, grabbing a handful on the way down, his fingers teasing your nipples. Searing his lips down your middle, over your belly button and below, he pulled his fingers from you on his knees and looked up at you. “You’re beautiful.”
Heaving breaths, your cheeks warmed. Covering your face with your hands, you managed to finally crack some sort of giggle. “Stop,” you whispered.
“Come here,” he breathed, gripping your hips, tugging your lower half toward him. Guiding one leg over his shoulder, he smoothed that hand up the back of your thigh, giving your ass a squeeze with a moan. Dragging his thumb through your slick, he curved his lips into the perfect ‘o’ and gazed up at you as he blew cool air over your core.
Sucking air in through your teeth, jolting away from him, one hand flew down to lace through his hair, giving him the harshest tug. Proud of himself, he beamed up at you and let his tongue roll through his parted lips.
“Where do you want me?” he asked, voice an octave lower than usual. He didn’t fight against your hold, but you could feel him start to try to. Letting him go, his smile wiped away. “No, hang on to me.”
“I didn’t wanna-”
He gripped your hip, his other hand sliding up your middle to grab a handful of tit. “Hang on to me,” he said through his teeth, nudging himself into your core, his nose pushing on your clit, his tongue sliding into your hole.
Both of your hands knit into his hair, holding onto him for balance as he held up on one foot.
Lapping at you, his tongue swirling and twisting, the pressure in your belly growing tenfold, you cried out for him and allowed yourself to fall against him, all your composure gone. Mark pressed his fingers into your curves, pinched and toyed with your nipple while he moaned into your pussy soaking his face. Bobbing his head, tongue going flat, he moved with you, your hips circling on his face, riding wherever the pleasure wanted you to go.
Vision blurry, body on fire, you tugged at his hair but it wasn’t enough. You tried to reach down for him, but he wouldn’t move. You wanted to see him, to hold him, hold onto him, kiss him–
“Mark,” you whimpered, trying to pull him off of you. “Mark, please.”
Parting from you once, sucking in a breath, chest heaving, he gazed up at you with lust stricken eyes, his lips and cheeks a mess. “Wanna make you cum,” he groaned, soothing you with a circle of his hand on your thigh, “Doing so good, baby, please?”
“No,” you cried out, pulling him to his feet.
He let you.
Gently placing you back on the ground, holding you up, he pressed himself to you and cupped your jaw. You gave him a kiss, one small, one soft, one tasting like you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, giggling as he pulled a hand up to wipe his face clean, he kissed you again, longer this time, your breaths in sync, like the beating of your hearts.
“I’m right here,” he whispered. “You okay?”
Nodding, gazing at him, you licked your lips and gave him the quietest whine.
His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, his eyes flickering to it, and with the gentlest whisper, he asked, “Your bed or mine?”
“Stay here,” you breathed, and he smiled.
Taking his hands to your waist, he pulled you up, wrapping you around his front. Stolen kisses on the way there, a few strides backward toward your bed, he tipped over as you giggled and laid you down on your mattress. Tongue escaping, nasty kisses pushed to your neck, Mark pushed his sweats to the floor and climbed over you, his knees pushing yours open.
Taking both hands to your jaw, he tipped your head backward and coerced your lips open with his thumbs, holding them there. His cheeks sucked in, as his length prodded at your entrance, he pursed his lips and let a ball of spit drip onto your tongue. Moans trapped in the back of your throat, you arched against him.
Mark, eyes dark as ever, bobbed his head and stuck his thumb in your mouth, spreading his spit on your tongue. “I knew it,” he teased, “Again.” As if you were going to be able to question him, he looked you in the eyes and whispered, “Nasty.”
Eyes rolling, you wiggled your hips, the feeling of his tip not enough. Wrapping your lips around his thumb, giving him a harsh suck, you swore the devil flashed in his eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he grumbled, “Don’t get me started. I want you gagging every which way, I’ve pictured it, gotten off to it.” You moaned and he laughed. “But, I wanna fuck your pussy more than I wanna fuck your throat,” he dipped down to press a kiss to your forehead, pushing stray hairs out of the way, whispering, “That okay?”
“Please,” you mumbled around his thumb, digging your teeth into it. “Mark, please.”
He lingered by your ear, lips brushing your lobe. “Please, what?”
“Fuck me,” you cried, writhing under him. He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and gripped your chin. Meeting his gaze, you whimpered. “Please, Mark, fuck me. I need you so bad.”
“Thought you were gonna let me bend you over the kitchen table,” he said, reaching a hand between your bodies to grip himself, “Pictured that before, too.”
“Fuck,” you gasped as he slid his tip into you.
He winced at how you squeezed him already, his brows tipped in the middle, his lips curling under. “Let me in, baby, can’t give you what you want if you don’t breathe.”
Your heart beat in your ears. You could barely get any air in as his length pushed inside of you, the pressure too great. The stretch, too much, the thought, the knowing that it was Mark, this was Mark, your roommate, inside of you, his cock, the pleasure–
A long sigh, laced with a whine, washed over him from your lips. Pushing into the hilt, your thighs touching, his hips on your hips, your clit pushing into his pelvis, he laid on top of you, your chests meshed. Parted lips met yours, the brush of a tongue on yours, the stinging of tears in your eyes as he rocked into you– you could feel him in your throat.
His thumbs pushed into your cheeks, his soft touch keeping you with him, brushing over your bottom lashes as your lips parted and you sighed, gazing up at him.
A mess, both of you. His hair, pushed around in ways he’d never let you see, his eyes, glazed over with euphoria, his lips, parted and hungry. Teeth baring as he rocked into you, your breath hitching in your chest, you drug your hands down his back, your nails leaving behind plush red love marks as they came back up to his shoulders.
“God, I just wanna stay like this,” he mumbled, burying his head in your neck, moaning into your shoulder. “Feel so good, sweetheart,” he sighed, wrapping his lips in a kiss below your jaw.
One of your hands escaped to his hair, knitting into his locks, holding onto him for clarity. “You’re so… big…” you managed to gasp between snaps of his hips.
Smirking down at you, he pushed himself up to his hands, the silver chain on his neck dangling over your nose. “Yeah?”
Managing a smile with your twisted brows, you breathed through a laugh, “Knew it.”
“Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered, suffocating you with a kiss, his hands eager to hold you in anyway they possibly could. “You know what it takes to hold myself back?”
Your tongue wanted to pop out of your lips. Biting down on your lip, moaning without giving yourself permission, you blinked up at him, dazed, ignited with nirvana.
Relief.
Mark pushed up off of you, guiding your legs around his waist as he held onto yours. Picking your hips up off the mattress, he pistoled into you and tipped his head back, his groans echoing off the walls, lingering in the air.
“You know what it feels like… to have you walk around here… like you don’t know how hot you are?” He took a thumb to your clit, pressing down, grinning as you cried out and writhed, your hands gripping onto your sheets. “What it feels like… to hear you moan into your pillows… knowing that I could walk in here… and fuck you dumb?”
“Yes,” you gasped, voice broken, “Mark, yes, you drive me fucking crazy.”
He snickered. “Do I?”
Every twist of his thumb made you tremble, your high barreling toward you as you watched his body move. The arch in his back, the push of his hips, where your bodies met, the sound your bodies made…
“I wanted you as soon as I got home,” you babbled, fucking yourself back onto him as he thrust into you, “Wanted you to fuck me, wanted you to make me cum… Mark.”
His body let loose for a second, his composure dropping, his head lulling back, but then he grabbed your waist and pushed you both up to your pillows. Stretching his legs behind him, putting his hands behind your knees, he folded you in half and lowered himself on top of you.
Hair stuck to his forehead, your breaths tangled in shared air, his chain kissed your chin, your nose, your neck.
“Mark,” you whispered, your belly tightening, your legs shaking around him. Pulling him closer, landing messy kisses to his cheek, to his jaw, you gasped, right on the edge. “M’fu- Mark!”
“Come on,” he whispered, lazy lips brushing your cheek, “C’mon, babe. I got you.” You squeezed him, your body twitching under him, a tumultuous build up, a crash you needed three days ago. Fueled by his hands, his hips, his tongue, you cried out for him, barely recognizing yourself. “Cum for me, sweetheart, c’mon, you can do it.”
Almost missing your lips with a kiss, he moaned into your mouth as his own belly tensed.
“Need you to cum first,” he groaned, letting his fingers toy with your clit, his speed relentless, but he knew as soon as you went silent, he had you. “Be a good girl,” he whined, nose pressing to your cheek, “C’mon… Cum on my cock, baby, isn’t that what you want? Cum and I’ll fill you up, you want that?”
Nodding, fast, barely breathing, only able to suck air in, unable to push any out, you clung to him as your vision seared white, and you convulsed into him, body ignited with a pleasure brand new. You squeezed him tight, giving him little time to warn you he was cumming, filling you up with half a thrust as he dropped to his elbows and whimpered.
You’re not sure how long you laid in silence, spent bodies pressed together on a mussed up bedspread that now needed a washing. Then, he stirred.
Picking up his head of messed up hair, he looked down at you, eyes heavy, lips swollen. Surprised to see you already looking, he smiled, a flash of his teeth poking between his lips. Pulling out of you, taking his time, watching you closely as he did, he kissed you gently.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, shifting over your body to lay beside you, wrapping an arm around your back to tuck you into his side.
Unable to not look at him, you brushed your lips over his chest and whispered, “You’re incredible.”
Resting an arm behind his head, he looked down at you with a lazy smile. “You feel better?”
“Yes,” you answered quickly, making him laugh. “But, I think…”
He flipped his brows over, reaching his hand out to fix the mess that was your hair. “You think what, sweetheart?”
Curling up against him, you cowered and hid your face in his arm.
“Tell me,” he said softly, smoothing his hand under your chin, lifting your head. Pursing your lips, as if he could tell by the flutter of your lashes, he poked his cheek with his tongue. “Be a good girl and use your words,” he whispered, and you almost whimpered.
Your heart swelled in your chest, your cheeks heating as you whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”
Mark glanced around your room before looking at you crazy. “Am I… going somewhere?” Smiling as you giggled, he screwed his face up and tried to wiggle away from you. “Oh, wait, actually, that's you. How’s the apartment hunt going?”
“No!” Grabbing onto him, pulling him back into you, he rolled over on his side, hovering over you. Blinking up at him, you took a deep breath and shook your head. “I’m not leaving. You overwhelmed me, I thought I had no other option.”
Mark raised his brows. “Instead of just asking me to fuck, you were going to move out? To a whole new apartment? When this one is just fine?” Your smile faded, and your resolve clouded over. Mark tilted his head, curious. “Talk to me.”
Rolling your eyes, dragging your nails against his back, softer this time, you mumbled, “I… like you… Mark.” He didn’t move. “I was thinking about moving, ‘cause… I have feelings for you. And, after this… I want you. I wanted you before. I want to be yours.”
It took his six whole seconds to break into a toothy grin. “Great,” he huffed, catching your lips in a slow kiss, whispering against them, “Which room do you want to be ours?”
Eyes widening, he shocked you with another kiss.
Nudging your nose with his, he winked. “I wanna be yours.”
you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.
the door clicks shut behind him, and the world finally goes quiet.
mark drops his bag by the wall, shoulders sagging like they’ve been holding the weight of the entire day. his hair’s a mess, hoodie wrinkled, eyes tired—but when he spots you curled up on the couch, everything in him softens.
“you’re home,” you say gently.
he doesn’t answer right away. instead, mark crosses the room and folds himself around you, careful and slow, like he’s afraid the moment might break. his forehead presses against your shoulder, breath warm, uneven.
“can we just… stay like this?” he murmurs.
you card your fingers through his hair, and he sighs—deep, relieved, the kind of sigh that says i’m safe now. the noise, the lights, the cameras all fade away. it’s just the two of you, the steady rhythm of breathing, and the quiet comfort of being together.
