synopsis: it’s about time jiung realises that his self-destructive tendencies don’t only harm himself.
— requested by anon
pairing: jiung x fem!reader
genre: angst, hurt/no comfort
words: 2k
cw: swearing, yelling
author’s note: oh anon i love you for sending in that request right when i’m in a more angsty mood <3 this is related to my p1harmony’s red flags post, based off of the prompt from the ask. let me know your thoughts after reading!
一 edit: read part two here
it's been days since you’ve had a normal conversation with jiung.
he's always been the type of person who puts his all into his work, and his passion is a big part of why you fell in love with him in the first place. it was obvious to you that dating an idol wouldn't be easy - you were prepared for the long periods of distance, and you promised yourself that you would never stand between him and his job.
but in the whirlwind of work in preparations for their nearing comeback, jiung has slowly disappeared.
you've seen him only a handful of times over the past few weeks - he's always at the studio or back in his dorm to work some more after clocking out. at first, he'd call you, telling you that he's sorry for leaving you alone again and promising that he'd make it up to you after the promotions are over. and everytime you'd tell him that it's fine, that you understand and he shouldn't be worrying about this on top of everything else, as you pushed down the disappointment growing inside you. you believed him, and you waited.
but then jiung stopped calling. he stopped telling you when he would come home and when he'd stay somewhere else for the night. he started texting you less and less, stopped asking you aout how you’re doing, to the point where you think you wouldn't talk at all if it wasn't for you reaching out yourself. you've been staying up late every night in case he comes back home to you - and on the rare days when he does it's always the same old song, where he makes a beeline from the entrance door to the kitchen to eat some kind of microwave dinner, then takes a quick shower and goes straight to sleep, dodging your questions and attempts to start a conversation. on those nights when you do manage to get him to talk, wanting connect at least a little bit to soothe the loneliness growing in your chest, his responses are single-worded and dry, like he doesn't even want to waste the little energy he has left on talking to you.
it hurts. not only to be treated like this, but also to see him in this state - exhausted, overwhelmed, with bags under his eyes that get darker every time you see him, floating around like a ghost of the man you fell in love with.
so when he comes home today, you try again. it’s well past eleven when you hear the sound of the front door being unlocked, followed by a quiet thump of his bag against the floor and dragged footsteps towards the direction of your kitchen. you stay inside your bedroom for a bit longer, ear pressed against the door as you wait for the low buzz of the microwave to echo through the halls before making your way there.
the sight you’re greeted with when you peek around the corner never fails to break your heart – jiung leaning on his arms against the kitchen island, head hanging low and eyes closed like he’s half asleep already, the tired lines on his face making him look at least a couple years older than he actually is.
your feet shuffle against the floor as you slowly walk up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. you try your best to ignore the way he flinches at the contact at first instead of melting into it.
“hey, ji,” you murmur against his hoodie, keeping your voice gentle.
“hey, angel,” jiung turns around in your hold as he greets you back, and rests his palms on your shoulders. the term of endearment slips out of his lips like a habit, making the corners of your lips curl upwards slightly. the voice he speaks with is low and a bit raspy, the recordings and interviews clearly taken a toll on him.
“how are you doing?” you query, even though you’re already expecting what the answer will be. you still dare to hope this time it’ll be different.
but it’s not. he tilts his head in the same way as always, giving you the same tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “i’m okay. just tired.”
“yeah, i can see that,” a sigh leaves your lips at the familiar evasion. you reach out to gently rush a strand of hair off his forehead, still slightly damp with sweat from his practice. “you haven’t come back for the night yesterday, did you stay in the studio or..?”
you can feel jiung immediately bristling at your prying, his muscles tightening where your arms are still wrapped around him, “yes, i was in the studio. like i’ve been for the past two weeks.”
“oh, uh– okay. i was just wondering since you didn’t text me or anything…” you recoil a little at the sharp edge in his tone. you can see he’s getting agitated, and you assume that something must’ve happened at work or that the stress is finally catching up to him. either way, you don’t want this to blow up, so you soften your voice and choose your next words carefully. “you know, i was thinking that maybe you should take the evening off tomorrow? i know you could use the rest, and i thought we could visit that restaurant i told you–”
“we have a practice tomorrow,” jiung cuts you off. you frown slightly, noticing how he’s not meeting your gaze anymore.
“that’s okay, i think the place is open until pretty late–”
“i’m not coming here tomorrow. i have work to do, you know that,” he interrupts you again.
this time the way he doesn’t even let you finish speaking makes your blood run slightly hotter. your arms unwrap from around him before crossing on your chest, your next words coming out firmer, “yes, jiung, i know you have work. but i can see how tired you are, and i miss you. besides, it’s just one evening, it’s not going to make that much of a difference, is it?”
your insistence and clear agitation only seem to irk him more, as he rolls his eyes so deep it’s almost obnoxious, “the album comes out in four days, of course it’s going to make a difference. i can’t start slacking off now.”
“i’m not saying you should start slacking off. i just wish you would take care of yourself more and maybe spend some time with me. i barely even see you these days.” your voice starts to waver slightly as you struggle to keep your calm against his stubbornness. you’re really can’t fathom why he’s so dead set on self-destructing and acting like a martyr for the sake of his job.
“oh god– can you please stop treating me like a fucking child? i know what i’m doing, okay? i don’t have time for any of that,” the way jiung’s voice starts to rise makes you tense right away. he’s never been the one to talk to you like that, and it only makes your resolve harden in return, your words coming out faster and sharper.
“you don’t have time for any of what? for being home? for rest? for me?” you throw your arms out, letting them fall limp to your sides, your eyebrows creasing. “jiung, i don’t even know what you’re up to anymore. i’ve talked to jongseob more times in the past days than i have talked to you! is it so wrong that i want you to come home to me for the night?”
it looks like jiung’s on edge now. he seethes, hissing the words through his clenched teeth, his shoulders tight and hands curled into fists, “we talked about this. this is my job and it’s important to me. you knew what you were signing up for when we started dating–”
this time it’s you who doesn’t let him finish. this is an argument you’ve heard one too many times, and one that always hurts the same to hear. of course, you knew what being with a celebrity entails and you never asked jiung to choose between you and his passion, but throwing it back at you in a moment like that is just cruel, “yes, i know! but you can’t expect me not to be hurt when we don’t even–”
“well, maybe if you weren’t so fucking sensitive about everything!”
the kitchen falls silent. your mouth closes slowly, the cut-off word dying on your tongue as his words slowly sink in. jiung looks as if he regrets it, his indignant expression faltering for a split second before he stills it again. the microwave beeps in the background, but neither of you pays attention anymore.
“sensitive?” the atmosphere feels heavy when you speak again, your voice cracking dangerously, “i’m too sensitive for being upset that my boyfriend doesn’t give a fuck about me anymore?”
you pause, giving jiung a chance to reply – to take it back, to apologise and promise it won’t happen again, even if you both know it will. to at least be decent enough to give you a sliver of hope.
but he doesn’t take that chance.
he stands there, breathing heavily, his whole body coiled taut and his eyebrows furrowed in anger, but he doesn’t speak. either because he knows you’re right and is too riled up to admit it, or because he really just doesn’t care.
to you, it doesn’t matter why anymore.
you’re over this. you’re tired of always being the less important thing, of feeling like you’re a chore to check off on his to-do list. you’re tired of begging him to rest and eat properly, of being worried out of your mind while he refuses to take care of himself at all, completely disregarding your concerns and acting like you’re the one who’s being ridiculous for trying to help.
all the pent-up worry and frustration and hurt finally boil over, spilling out together with your words.
“i’ve been sitting here, waiting and hoping you’ll come home every single night for the past days, while you couldn’t even bother to send me a stupid text! i tried to understand, jiung, i really did, but this has been happening over and over again. every single time you have something important coming up at work, i’m being pushed away and treated like i don’t mean shit to you, and you expect me to just take it?”
you don’t even realise the moment your cheeks become wet, tears of helplessness flowing out of your eyes like a waterfall. you can barely see through the blur, but it’s enough for you to be able to step back just before jiung can reach out towards you. his arm flinches back, his whole body shrinking – you can imagine that his face is all crumpled now, maybe his eyes have even watered too. but it’s too late for guilt now.
“i’m done with your bullshit, jiung,” you don’t bother to wipe the dampness off as you take another step back, and then another one, before turning around and walking right out of the kitchen. you have half the mind to grab your jacket off the hanger and slip on some shoes, making sure your phone is still in your pocket as you make your way towards the front door, “i’m not gonna go out of my way to make sacrifices for someone who can’t do the same thing for me.”
you don’t even spare a glance back his way before you’re out the door, leaving jiung still standing in the same spot in the kitchen, eyes glued to where your silhouette disappeared behind the corner. the sound of the door slamming shut leaves a low ringing in his ears, his exhausted mind struggling to catch up to what just happened.
“i’m done with your bullshit, jiung,” your words echo through his head, over and over again, like a grim mantra reminding him of what could be the biggest mistake of his life.
he falls to the cold floor as his knees give up underneath the weight of the realisation slowly sinking in.
— non idol!boyfriend!jiung x fem!reader || fluff, domestic, slightly suggestive at one point, not proofread we die like men
💭 random texts with your loving boyfriend jiung who sometimes questions your sanity
↺ reblog for flowers!!
،، 🌷 more under cut | masterlist
↺ azalea´s notes: my jiunggg )): you don´t understand i love that man so so much he´s genuinely so sweet ohmygOD i´m getting cuteness agression just thinking about him
➻ requested | yes, ty anon for requesting!
➻ note || it’s 3am as I’m writing and posting this because I saw the ask and couldn’t resist and it’s only been proofread once </3
“Jiungie loves meee— Ow!”
You yelp when your head knocks into the doorframe as Jiung carries you into your room.
“Oh I’m sorry!” Jiung scrambles to quickly get you down on the bed before kneeling in front of you, cradling your head gently. “Does it hurt?”
Your lips are pulled down in a pout as you nod. Jiung pales a little as he wracks his brain on what to do to relieve the pain but then he sees you trying to fight off a smile. In your drunken state, it’s a miserable failure.
“Kiss it better?” You ask meekly, batting your eyes.
Jiung sighs, fond as he gives you a light-hearted glare. “You scared me,” he says, but leans in to press a soft kiss to where he’d bumped your forehead.
You preen at the kiss, giggling. “Aww, you can’tsay no t’me,” you slur, playfully pushing his arm.
Jiung rolls his eyes as he stands up but the smile on his face is amused. You’re a little ridiculous when you’re drunk but at least you’re cute.
“No, you just never take no for an answer,” he says as he starts to maneuver your jacket off of you.
Your pout returns full force. “Callin’ me stubborn? Look’n the mirror, mister.”
He pushes your forehead hard enough so you fall on your back. “Maybe that’s why we work then,” he says as he pulls off your socks one by one.
“Mister and missus stubborn,” you say, scrunching your nose. “Ehh. We c’n do better.”
Jiung chuckles as he fetches a fresh pair of pyjamas for you to change into. “Change, you shouldn’t sleep in your outside clothes.”
You only respond by blinking lazily at him and lifting your arms.
He sighs; you really love to be coddled when you’re drunk. It’s a good thing he likes coddling you. “Alright, sit up.”
You follow his command sitting up with your arms in the air. When Jiung pulls the shirt off of you, you start to giggle. “If you wanted me with my clothes off ya just had to aaaask.”
His cheeks burn a little as he shoots you a dirty look, quickly shoving you in your t-shirt, smothering your protests along the way. “You’re the one who asked me to change you, idiot.”
“Mean,” you grumble but quietly let him change your pants into comfy sweats.
As soon as you’re changed, you throw your arms around his neck and attack his face with obnoxious kisses.
“Yah!” He tries to pull away but you’re freakishly strong when you’re drunk.
“Jiungie loves me,” you sing as you fall back, pulling him into the bed with you.
There’s really no escape for him now as you koala yourself onto him.
“I haven’t changed yet, love,” he complains, squirming in your arms but you don’t let up, only hugging him tighter.
“Do it tomorrow.”
He lets out a long suffering sigh. “Fine but you’re changing the sheets.” He throws his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest. He’s the opposite of comfortable lying in his crewneck and jeans but he’s willing to sacrifice a little if it means keeping you content.
“Jiungie loves me,” you repeat to yourself with a quiet giggle. “I’m so lucky. How did I get so lucky? Should send mama Choi a gift. She likes rice cakes. Oh and…”
He feels his cheeks warm again as he listens your outward inner monologue, listing off the things you could gather in a gift basket to send to his parents.
He’s ninety percent sure you’ll forget in the morning but the fact that you’re this thankful for him makes his insides warmer than the alcohol from earlier.
He pulls you closer into his chest, listens to you until you talk yourself to sleep, and makes a mental note to send a gift basket to your parents tomorrow.
taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @lycxee, @tintedsvn
message me or comment to be added to my taglist!
𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works + works in progress
➻ pairing | established idol!jiung x reader
➻ synopsis | your relationship with jiung is still new, and you’re left blinded-sided when he rejects your advances. an awkward goodbye forces jiung to face his issues.
➻ details | sfw, hurt/comfort
➻ length | 1.5k
➻ requested by anon, ty for requesting!
𓆩⟡𓆪 note || warning: edible jiung
The first time you tried to initiate physical touch with him (arm holding, nothing crazy, really), Jiung looked at you with an expression so alarmed that you immediately tucked tail and ran. You’d swatted his elbow, told him, “sorry there was a bug!” before you excused yourself and put as much distance between you two as possible.
The second time was when you tried to hold his hand without even thinking about it during a walk with Keeho and Soul to get dinner. When you realized what you’d done and how rigid he got, you pulled back, apologized, and ran to catch up with Soul. You made sure to sit beside Jiung at the dinner table so you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him as much.
The third time was an outright rejection.
You were bidding him farewell at the airport when the group was privately departing to Japan for an award show. This would be the first time he would go overseas since you’d started dating, which was only for a few weeks now. You’d gotten on your tiptoes with a surge of confidence to kiss him goodbye, but then he’d turned his head at the last second so your lips found his cheek instead.
The moment right after seemed to pause for a horrible, awkward second before you quickly pulled away. Jiung looked back at you, blinking in shock like he himself was taken aback by what he did. He opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.
“Have a safe trip!” You say cheerily, though your smile doesn’t meet your eyes. “Text me when you land, okay?”
Then you were walking away, rapidly blinking the tears out of your eyes.
It was silly, really, to be this upset over something so small.
It’s not like you hadn’t kissed. You’d done it that night he confessed to you. And it’s not like he detested the affection, but to be outright denied like that, in public no less, still stung. You didn’t pester him about his aversion to touch or pressure for more than soft touches and quick brushes, but couldn’t he spare you at least a little bit?
You told yourself you’d be okay without much casual touch going into the relationship but you still can’t help but be overwhelmed with affection every time you see him. The urge to just grab him and kiss him or smother him with tight hugs was something you had to fight on a daily basis. Words weren’t your strongest point so you resorted to physical affection to show your love for others. It just so happens that the one you’re with now isn’t compatible with that.
You mull over it on the ride home, on your way into your apartment, and then on the way to your couch where you curl up with your heavy heart and racing mind to keep you company.
What if this is the detriment of your relationship? You’re not able to express your affection for him in the right way and he doesn’t respond well to the way you do want to show it.
No, you tell yourself. This is a slippery slope to go down and you’d really hate to leave your mind in a place like this when Jiung won’t be around to help you out of it like he always does.
You don’t get the chance to linger on it any longer because then there’s a sharp, rapid knocking at your front door.
You drag yourself up and to the door, winding up to tell off the delivery guy who keeps showing up at your door instead of your neighbour’s. You’re stopped short when you see Jiung on the other side, leaned against the door frame and heaving for breath looking like he’d just run a marathon.
You blink at him with your jaw slack. “…Ji—“
His lips are on yours before you can finish. Your brain doesn’t get the chance to catch up and kiss him back before he’s already pulling back. “I’m sorry,” he’s saying as he’s pushing you back inside with a hand on your waist, the other shutting the door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he says again before he presses a soft kiss to your brow. “I’m sorry,” he says once more, kisses your temple, then says it again and again as he kisses down your face— from the corner of your eye, to your cheekbone, your nose, the corner of your mouth, the bow of your lips, your chin.
All you can do is stand there as he cradles you in his arms and peppers you with them. You’re not sure when your eyes had fallen closed but you open them when you feel his forehead press against yours and he’s looking right into your eyes as he says for a final time, “I’m sorry.”
You can’t even bring yourself to respond. So you put your hands to his neck and lift yourself up to seal your lips over his in a gentle kiss.
He melts into it and pulls you closer when he senses your lingering hesitation. His arms wrap fully around you as he presses your back gently against the wall, bringing his other hand to brush your hair back before sliding to cradle the back of your head.
You let your arms slide around his waist, relishing in the warmth of his body heat against yours. You didn’t realize how much you were craving this until now, until you had it all right in your arms.
So it’s with a lot of willpower that you eventually pull yourself back enough so you can look up at him and meet his half lidded gaze that’s left dazed from your lips.
“Hell of an apology,” you say, your short laugh brushing against his lips.
He blinks a few times, seeming to come back to earth as he lowers his head sheepishly. “I… didn’t realize what I was doing. Until Keeho pointed it out.”
You can’t help but feel embarrassed that your little problem was perceived by someone outside of your relationship. “No, it’s okay—“
“It’s not okay,” he says quickly, shaking his head then dropping it to the crook of your neck. “Touch isn’t really my thing. You know that. It’s not… necessary for me I guess. I don’t need it to get by.” He falters for a second. Then he’s pressing himself further into you, nuzzling his nose against your neck, breathing in your scent. “But I know you like it. And this is…” He breathes out and you feel it against the column of your neck before you feel the soft brush of his lips against your collarbone, a ghost of a kiss. “This is nice.”
You’re pretty sure you’re about to die with how full your heart feels right now with affection. You can’t stop yourself as you pull back and grab his face, peppering kisses all over his face, not quite as softly as he was but you can’t help it.
The final shot to your heart is the little giggle that escapes him at your attack, at which you squeeze his cheeks between your palms and press a smacking kiss right to his lips.
“I’m gonna eat you,” you say, giggling at the dazed look that’s returned to his face as he grins down at you.
“Should I be concerned?” He asks, pressing his forehead back against yours.
You shake your head, leaning up so your nose brushes against his. Your heart practically sings when he cutely scrunches his nose at that. “No, but remind me to send Keeho a gift basket.”
He scoffs, pulling back with a look of mock offence. “Why does he get a gift for my efforts?”
You whack his chest playfully before you pull him back to you. “You get me. Isn’t that enough?”
“More than,” he giggles before leaning in to peck your lips.
“Thank you,” you say before you kiss him again. “For trying for me.”
“It’s not that hard really,” he mumbles as he starts to walk you towards your couch. “Just needed the right push.”
You kiss his chin as he lays you down on the couch, going down with you. Before his kiss can land, you gasp and pull back. “Your flight!”
He stares at you blankly for a moment before he shrugs. “Japan can wait,” he says before he dips down to kiss you again.
taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @lycxee, @tintedsvn, @dollieholls, @missmaiamay, @mrssaturday, @sweetasberry
message me or comment to be added to my taglist!
𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works + works in progress
ᝰ.ᐟ p1h reaction to them accidentally finding your sensitive spot || OT6
➻ details | suggestive content for the most part, nsfw (MINORS DNI) in soul’s but nothing crazy
𓆩⟡𓆪 requested by anon! ps. thank you so much for 300 followers, that is crazy srsly :’)
𓆩⟡𓆪 KEEHO
It happens when you’re both in bed, lazily making out, just relishing in each other’s presence more than anything. We’ve established that Keeho is a handsy man; he loves nothing more than to run his hands down your body, more specifically, he loves to wrap them around your waist. He loves to feel the way you shift under his touch as his thumbs brush a hypnotic rhythm against the skin at your waist, loves to press in hard for a second at a time just to drink up your little whines with his tongue.
“So noisy,” he pulls away to chide you playfully, his voice deep and rough from the late night. You don’t let him stay apart for long and press yourself closer to him, pushing your lips frantically against his.
This wasn’t supposed to lead anywhere, it was just meant to be a way to wind down before turning in for the night but you find yourself growing needy with each brush of Keeho’s hands against you.
Keeho, wanting nothing more than to have you as needy as possible, dips his fingers into the low cut of your sweats. He hums in amusement when he notices the absence of any underwear but you’re too focused mapping out his mouth with your tongue.
But when you feel his thumbs slide down your subtle v-line, your focus is ripped away to the way your nerves light up at the touch, forging a path right to your core.
Keeho notices the way your body goes taut and your mouth falters against his, and makes the movement again, pressing his fingers in deeper against the sensitive skin.
He lets your next whine topple into the heated air between you two. “Yeah?” He breathes, lets his blunt nails scratch gently over the skin.
Your hips jolt this time, and Keeho grins like a cat with his canary. Don’t be surprised if he has you laid out on your back for the night as his teeth mark up those sensitive spots of yours and stakes his claim.
𓆩⟡𓆪 THEO
It happens when you’re sitting in his studio with a guitar in your lap, Theo’s hands over yours as he guides you through the strings. You’re sitting on a stool with your back to his chest as he sits on the couch, warm against you with his arms wrapping around as he teaches you chords.
You went into this with the plan to learn the instrument that your boyfriend has become so passionate about, but somewhere along the way, you’ve gotten distracted. All you can focus on is the way he encompasses you; the heady scent of his subtle cologne and freshly laundered clothes, the line of heat he casts against your back as he practically engulfs you, the rustle of his clothing as he moves behind you, the deep timbre of his voice as he speaks right by your ear.
But the thing that’s getting to you the most, the thing that has sparks climbing down your spine in fiery tendrils, is the way his breath brushes against the back of your neck every time he opens his mouth.
It’s distracting to the point your words come stilted, exhilarating enough that your fingers shake under his careful hands, and obvious enough that Theo catches onto all of it.
He doesn’t let on that he’s caught on to you though, but subtly adjusts to play you with this new knowledge. He leans in and talks closer to you so his breath is brushing sharper against your skin and raising gooseflesh in its wake. Eventually he moves close enough to where you can feel the ghost of his lips against your skin and it has your sentence breaking off in the middle.
“Theo,” you whisper, finally catching onto his scheming. You should’ve known he’d figure it out.
He only presses the faintest of kisses against your heated skin, smirking to himself, then squeezes your hands and tells you in a honeyed voice to, “Focus.”
𓆩⟡𓆪 JIUNG
Jiung, while not someone who initiates physical touch (especially in public), will let himself press against your back when in the company of close friends. Nothing too much, just enough to remind himself during the quiet moments that he’s yours and you’re his, and being the one who gets to touch you is a great privilege that he shouldn’t take lightly.
Especially when you smile secretly and lean back into him. He doesn’t wrap his arms around you but lowers his head enough to rest his chin on your shoulder while you both stare out at the scenery from Keeho’s high rise balcony.
“Ready to go home?” He asks you, quiet to not disturb the peaceful moment.
“Yeah, just about,” you answer, bumping the side of your chin affectionately against his cheek.
He hums. “Let me know when,” he says, then turns his head to press a soft kiss to the spot behind your ear, an innocent enough gesture.
But he notices the way your next breath goes in sharper than usual and the way it stutters out in the next second. The way your eyes flutter before blinking rapidly back open, like you’re unsure what brought this reaction out of you.
He files this information away and doesn’t bring it up until you’re in bed that night, tucked into his arms with your back to his chest. The image of you, left floundering at such an innocent kiss, reels in his head in a loop.
So he doesn’t think much about it when he leans down and kisses that same spot and gets the same stuttered breath out of you. Doesn’t think about it at all before he’s mouth at the spot, letting his teeth abuse it while his tongue soothes it over. Doesn’t let go of the spot even while you squirm and whimper in his arms.
He bites down on your earlobe and tugs it before he’s asking you, breathless himself, “Where have you been all this time?”
𓆩⟡𓆪 INTAK
Intak is always… excitable. So it shouldn’t come across as a surprise that he’s got every part of you figured out and has uncovered all the sweet and sensitive parts of your body that drive you wild through his eager exploration of you in the first few weeks of dating.
But there’s one spot that he’s missed, one that he didn’t pay much mind to because everywhere else was just a bit more intriguing to him.
It happens on an evening before a concert, when you’re sitting with him in the dressing room while he’s laid out on your lap, lounging about and resting before the show.
You’re running your hand through his hair the way he likes and the way that lulls him to sleep with ease. He’s already fallen asleep with your nails gently scratching into his scalp and your voice drifting him off as you recall a story from work.
But then the makeup artist is urging you to wake him up so you press your hand to his cheek and shake him awake.
He blinks himself conscious, whines for a little bit, until you settle him down with a kiss. “You can come home with me if you do well at the concert, how about that?” You offer cheekily.
That gets him grinning. “Works for me.” He takes your hand pressed to his cheek and squeezes, turning his head to press a kiss to your wrist and plants it right on your pulse point.
He doesn’t expect your smile to falter, nor your hand to twitch in his grasp. But you recover quickly and smile at him before shooing him away.
His thoughts remain on you throughout the concert,and on your wrists throughout the drive to your place.
He’s uncharacteristically quiet, until he’s got you in your bed, pinning your arms down beside your head as he mouths away at the pulse point of your left wrist, sending sparks up your arm. He curses himself for missing a spot, claiming he’s got to be extra thorough tonight just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything else.
𓆩⟡𓆪 SOUL
Soul has always loved your thighs; touching them, squeezing them, holding them down in a mating press, laying on them. He loves everything about them and has claimed them as his emotional support stress balls.
Despite that, he hasn’t explored them to their fullest potential until one night when you’re both watching Netflix for movie night. He gets up in the middle of the movie and puts himself on his knees between your legs. At your questioning look, he tells you to focus on the TV and ignore him while peeking off your shorts and your underwear in one go.
You don’t question it; there’s times he’ll come to you with unconventional requests but you always comply, content on providing him with whatever he wants when you can give it.
So you do your best to ignore him as he kisses his way from your bare hips down to your thighs, then up until he reaches the sensitive skin on your upper inner thigh.
As soon as his teeth brush against that spot, your leg twitches, breaking your little charade as you show your first sign of being affected by him through a breathy moan.
Soul’s eyes immediately snap up to you, they practically sparkle as a slow grin climbs his lips.
“I told you to ignore me,” he states with a giggle, not looking upset at all before he attaches his teeth there again and sucks.
You don’t get the chance to respond, whimpering at the sharp jolt of pleasure that shoots right to your core.
You can feel yourself growing wetter with each second that he spends abusing that spot with his teeth and tongue, and he knows it, amps it up on purpose to get you leaking. His fingers brush against your entrance, collecting the slick that pools there.
“You really like it,” he muses with another giggle, popping the fingers into his mouth to taste you.
You groan at the sight and put your hand in his hair, pushing his head down. “Come on, Shota,” you whine, and Soul doesn’t deny you just the way you don’t deny him.
𓆩⟡𓆪 JONGSEOB
Jongseob’s not the one to be overly touchy with his partner in public, at least not in a sensual way. He likes wholesome contact; he likes to rest his hand innocently on your hip, wrap his arm around your shoulders, or slip his hand into yours. One place he does often find himself reaching for is the small of your back, likes to let his palm rest against the nook and warm you through your shirt.
It’s a comforting gesture, you find. Until you wear a crop top one day as you’re cooking breakfast in your kitchen and Jongseob pads up behind you, still sleep muddled as he plasters himself to your back, and reaches his hand to that familiar spot at your back. He finds your skin this time, your crop top leaving the area exposed.
Your hand falters while you’re scrambling your eggs when you feel his thumb brush against the centre of your back, right in the little divot there.
He picks up on it when you freeze up at the touch. “You okay?” He asks, voice rough with sleep as he presses a kiss to your head.
“Fine,” you say quickly and resume your task.
But then he shifts his thumb up an inch, gliding along the valley at the centre. When he feels you freeze up again, he grins to himself. “Oh?”
You don’t respond with words but your body responds with a shudder as he slides his thumb slowly up your back, sliding under your shirt to glide over the ridges of your spine. His other hand finds your hip to keep you in place as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Come back to bed. I wanna try something.”
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𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works + works in progress
back and forth texts with emotionally unavailable jongseob
who in p1harmony would fall in love at first sight?
where p1harmony would love to kiss you ❤︎
p1harmony reacting to you squirting ❤︎
p1harmony and their kinks ❤︎
p1harmony on whether they prefer ass or tits ❤︎
mtl likely in p1harmony to be pussy drunk ❤︎
p1harmony and what i think their ideal type is
p1harmony with an s/o with specific piercings ❤︎
p1harmony’s reaction to seeing their gf naked for the first time ❤︎
p1harmony’s favorite sex positions ❤︎
keeho as your best friend’s brother
“i didn’t shave” with p1harmony ❤︎
size training with p1harmony ❤︎
car sex with p1harmony ❤︎
❤︎ hard hours (all nsfw):
eager puppy bf intak
making up with jongseob after an argument
needy reader wanting to get soul’s attention away from his video games
cockwarming jiung and jongseob
rich boy keeho
reuniting with bf jongseob after tour .. pt.2
soul ruining your cute panties
seobsoul and hickies
public sex with p1harmony
sub! jongseob and his slutty little waist
p1harmony as subs
p1harmony’s dick sizes
mutual masturbation with jongseob
jongseob nsfw links
soul nsfw links
tutor!jongseob
° . ❀ longer fics/oneshots:
* - nsfw (mdni)
yoon keeho ᥫ᭡
..
choi taeyang ᥫ᭡
..
choi jiung ᥫ᭡
..
hwang intak ᥫ᭡
..
haku shota ᥫ᭡
..
kim jongseob ᥫ᭡
ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚 jasmine
a saccharine summer evening spent at your favorite nail parlor is so much sweeter when you’re accompanied by a boy made out of star-shaped tangerines
ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚 sugar sorbet*
how sweet is it to be dizzy and in love?
ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚 240711 jongseob*
he’s lifting his head now, so his lips hover dangerously close to your left ear, smiling knowingly and whispering “i take it you like my outfit?”, and jongseob doesn’t even give you a moment to react, retreating back to his side of the backseat, but not before shooting you a shit-eating grin that makes you want to sock him, albeit lovingly, in the face.
warnings: many mention of injuries/blood. reader is a clumsy person. some allusions to potential bullying/abuse from a very worried seungkwan.
daisy’s notes: read the original accident prone here. an expanded part one for a series of soulmate au fics.
summary: Boo Seungkwan has lived feeling someone else’s pain for over ten years. To be fair, they feel his, too: but he can’t help but worry… Is his soulmate okay?
When Seungkwan turned ten, he didn’t know if you existed. He had cried to his mom, actually, convinced that you weren’t actually out there and that he’d be one of the low percentage of people without any soulmate. She had held him, wiped his tears, and told him that she was the same when she was his age. Not all signs show up immediately, and he should be patient: if his soulmate is out there, he’ll know one day. And if he didn’t have one, that didn’t make him worth any less. His mom had kissed him on the forehead and told him that soulmate or no, he was loved and would be loved in the future because he was her sweet boy and anyone would be lucky to love him. When Seungkwan looked back at it, it warmed his heart a lot: he loved his mom for a reason, and her comfort in that moment had meant a lot.
Even if he ended up crying a few nights later because his ankle hurt even though he’d done nothing to it. His parents had taken him to the doctor then, they had taken an x-ray, and two days later he was sitting there in an empty room as his parents spoke to the doctor outside. His ankle had stopped hurting, thankfully, but he could feel a pulsing pain in his shoulder like he’d run into a door. The night before, he felt the sting of a skinned knee despite not doing anything.
The doctor came back into the room with his parents. Seungkwan sat in his mom’s lap, watching as the doctor pulled out a roll of stickers from a cabinet and offered up a bowl of lollipops, his mom’s arms locked around his middle to keep him in place. He’d been wary at first–this was the exact same way people gave him his shots over the years. But the doctor had nothing to hide, and merely smiled at him.
“Seungkwan,” she said, voice gentle as Seungkwan stuck a strawberry-flavored sucker into his mouth, “you have a soulmate.”
When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.
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prev ⭒ chapter three (2.9k) ⭒ next
It’s not lost on Lee Jihoon that, even though he's written love songs since he was fifteen and poems even before that — which is privileged information he’ll never share with anyone — he’s only been in love once.
And he’s grateful for that. Sometimes he thinks about her; about what kind of life he’d be living if certain things went certain ways. And he smiles. Not because she was beautiful — which she was — or because in his imagination, he acted braver — which he didn’t — but because even though that love would never know if it was returned, he still felt it. He knew it was real. It was at once an infinitely warm and bitingly cold feeling. Jihoon’s written quite a few songs from that first and last love.
Except, he doesn’t think that was his last love. Not really. Maybe it’s true in the romantic sense, but…
He won’t say it, of course. What he feels for his members. His friends. His brothers.
No… no. Speaking it out loud is unnecessary.
Mingyu’s hand grabs his, encasing it in a soft but tight grip as Yejung calls for the attention of the room. Jihoon doesn’t squeeze back, but his thumb lightly curls around Mingyu’s palm.
“If there really is a person that’s attached to all of you through your marks, we need to plan a course of action.” Yejung fidgets with her hands, and Jihoon can tell she wishes she was pointing at a slideshow on the wall and showing them interaction rates, rather than this unquantifiable soulmate business.
“We still don’t have a dating ban here,” Myungjun says, arms crossed as he lets his eyes roam to each of the boys. “But I think we all know what happens when famous heartthrobs get hitched. I was never worried about it before because you’re all, frankly—” He glances at Jihoon. “—bitchless, but…”
Chan makes an affronted sound, and someone whines, “Hyung!”
Jihoon can only hold in a pout because Myungjun looked at him when he said that, and he’s right.
Yejung lightly smacks Myungjun’s shoulder. “What we’re trying to say is this: Seventeen’s ratings are skyrocketing because of this whole soulmate thing,” she explains. “But I can’t imagine those numbers moving in a positive direction if these fans find out your marks connect you to someone unfamiliar rather than each other.”
Myungjun nods. “Whatever outcome, it wouldn’t be good.”
“Don’t Carats want us to be happy?” Seokmin dares to ask.
“Well—” Yejung expression turns pained. “Yes, it’s just that—”
“You guys are one of the biggest kpop acts on the block right now,” Myungjun supplies easily. “Despite how good I’m sure most of your fans are, there will always be people who aren’t. Just a few bad apples can spoil the bunch.”
Yejung clarifies, “It’s about safety and privacy. There are sasaengs who follow you around and take pictures without your consent. There are people who would do anything to support their favourite celebrities, including defaming you guys by any means necessary. The internet is a powerful weapon. Who’s to say it won’t be used against you because of this?”
No one argues with that. Each of the members has dealt with the bad side of the internet more than once, if in different ways. Though none of them refute what Yejung said, it’s her next question that really get their minds turning.
“Who’s to say your soulmate won’t get hurt?”
Your soulmate.
Jihoon’s soulmate.
Hurt? No.
No no no no no.
A rising panic stains the room, and Yejung and Myungjun share a look that all but a few miss.
“Which—” Yejung puts more volume into her voice to grab the attention of the members, and maybe to pull them away from whatever spiralling they were about to do. “—is why we’re asking you all to just lay low for a while.”
“Lay low?” Junhui echoes.
Myungjun nods again. “For now, the short-term plan is to continue propagating the idea that you’re all each other’s platonic soulmates.”
“Just while research is still being done,” Yejung says. “It also gives us at the company an opportunity to figure things out in the meantime.”
Seungcheol’s brows furrow, suspicious. “What are you asking us to do to” —he puts his fingers up in air quotes— “‘lay low’?”
Myungjun and Yejung share another look, and he sighs, knowing that he’s better adept to being the bearer of bad news.
“Don’t go looking for your soulmate.”
The room practically bristles.
Yejung puts both her hands out, as if the irritation in the air is something she can actually push down. “Actively,” she clarifies. “Don’t go actively searching for this person. The last thing we want is to stop you guys from finding, uh, love, but… you can understand how weird this all is, right? The entire situation is a grey area.”
For the first time since this whole meeting started, Jeonghan actually looks a bit put off. "But they're my soulmate," he says, ignorant to the way some of the boys react to his use of the word my.
"They're also an unknown variable," Myungjun replies. He too ignores the mumbles and grumbles of the members; he's had years of practice with that. "This is nowhere near the same thing as one of you having a secret boyfriend or girlfriend or partner. You guys are all connected to this person. We can't just walk into this blind. One wrong move, and your soulmate’s well-being could be at stake. If worst comes to worst, they might be forced to forget what ‘privacy’ even means.”
Jihoon can tell, easily, Myungjun is weaponizing the safety of his — their soulmate to influence their compliance, but shit, it works. He feels something itching under his skin, an urge to protect someone he doesn’t even know. “Okay,” he says.
Scandalized, Soonyoung gapes at Jihoon like he just claimed something truly offensive like, actually, tigers aren’t that cool. “Jihoon! You can’t be serious— my soulmate is waiting for me!”
Everyone’s getting all too cozy with this my business…
But Jihoon just shrugs, his face the picture of stoicism and maturity. “It’s just for now.”
“Just for now,” Yejung reassures.
Seungcheol nods, his lips in a contemplative pout rather than the typical whining one. “You’re right,” he cedes to the staff. “It’ll be a media circus if word gets out.”
“Wouldn’t it be worth it?” Vernon asks no one in particular.
He doesn’t get an answer.
Myungjun clears his throat. “Look, we’re just asking for some time here. Everything I’ve heard about soulmates suggests that you will find this person, whether you go looking for them or not. I, for one, want to be prepared for when — not if — that happens.”
Relaxing a bit in his chair, Seokmin lets out a tiny sigh through his nose. He looks at his hands in his lap for a second, then back up at Myungjun. “Promise?”
Yejung seems to find relief in the gradual lessening of tension in the room, and she smiles. “Promise.”
Jihoon watches the way Seokmin’s smile grows, then gets pushed back as Seokmin tries and fails to hide his giddiness as he looks down at his lap again. The idea that this fated meeting is, well, fated is eliciting a similar reaction in many of them.
“For what it’s worth,” Myungjun cuts into whatever the heck is happening between the boys without care. “We’re asking you guys not to look for them, but if they find you…” He lets out a half-chuckle. “Well, not much we can do about that.”
⭒
Writer’s block is certainly not something Jihoon’s never dealt with, but as he sits there in his studio, one hand hovering over the keyboard and the other clutching uselessly to the mouse he hasn’t done anything with except swirl around for the last hour, he wonders if it’s ever been as bad as this. The same pressure as always weighs upon him. More songs. More hits. More collabs. More More More More More.
It’s strange, though. He’s had days where he’s not coming up with anything. Weeks. He’s gone through longer droughts, so why is this one night making his entire body ache? Why does the dull pain seep from his chest to the tips of his fingers?
He wants to write for you, but he doesn’t know who you are.
“Hyung?” Seungkwan pokes his head into the studio, hair still mussed from when he woke up. “Have you been here all night? It’s almost eight.”
Jihoon just grimaces in response, and Seungkwan clicks his tongue.
“And you say you love sleep so much… tch. We have that radio appearance in three hours, so I was sent to save you from yourself. The makeup team can take care of those dark eyebags”
Though he could probably use the rest, Jihoon pinches the skin around his wrist to keep himself from falling asleep in the van as it gets driven from the salon to the broadcasting station. If he falls asleep now, it’ll be a whole hassle to get him back up and alert again.
He stares at his mark. The five straight lines just sit there, blank.
His soulmate hasn’t sang in a couple days — not since that meeting about them.
Jihoon has to wonder. Do they not know how the mark shared between them and the rest of the members works? Or… are they doing it on purpose? To sever the mark before it can lead him anywhere.
It’s almost like they know.
Oh? Your company doesn’t want you to find me? You got it, boss. Never liked singing anyway.
He has to admit, though, that his soulmate didn’t sing much before, either. When he could catch his mark playing, it never lasted long, but he always pulled his phone out anyway to record it on video. He would play the video back, humming along to a clef and key he’d have to guess, then sing what he’d come up with into google and hope for the best. A couple of Eric Nam songs, some american artists, one Mozart and one Beethoven, some tunes he couldn’t even identify — maybe they sang out of key or just skipped notes they didn’t feel like hitting. He could hardly blame his soulmate for not singing every day. It’s not everyone’s job.
But if they know their soulmate can see it… wouldn’t they sing at least a little?
Jihoon is hungry.
“I would kill for an iced coffee right now,” Seungkwan says from the backseat.
Joshua doesn’t look up from his phone. “There will be some at the venue.”
“But their coffee always tastes so bad.” Wrinkling his nose, Seungkwan crosses his arms. “It’s like ninety-nine percent water, and then they pour it over a full cup of ice.”
“It’s free. What do you expect?” Jeonghan counters.
Seungkwan frowns. “Coffee.”
Seokmin opens his mouth to join the budding conversation, but he stops short when Jihoon groans out, “Can we pull over?”
Their driver meets Jihoon’s eyes in the rearview mirror, a bit surprised. She asks, worried, “Are you okay?”
“Just wanna grab something to eat.”
The car pulls up in front of a cafe, which looks empty enough for the staff member in the driver’s seat to give it their stamp of approval. The boys don’t generally run into trouble in public eateries, but they still try to be careful.
“I’m going to park around the corner,” the driver tells him.
“Get me an iced coffee while you’re in there!” Seungkwan yells out the window after Jihoon slides the van door in his face.
Jihoon lifts one non-committal hand halfway up in the air as he walks off, not caring if Seungkwan sees it or not.
Neither the coffee shop nor its menu are anything to write home about, but Jihoon stands patiently in line while the person in front of him tries to explain to the tired barista that they had to have the drink they want in stock because they ordered it last time, while the barista calmly states that they’ve never even heard of a frappu-cappu-latte. He eyes the pastries and sandwiches in the display case, and when the customer in front of him finally walks out with a huff, he orders something to eat for himself and a coffee for Seungkwan. Not because of feelings-that-shall-not-be-named, of course. Jihoon just felt like it is all.
He’s about to walk out when that familiar sensation pinches at his right hand, and he looks down at his mark. Notes, for the first time in 79 hours — not that he’s been counting — flit across the staff, and his eyes widen. With his left hand, he puts down the paper bag with the sandwich in it and pulls out his phone, ready to record the music, but he pauses. He recognizes the notes. It’s easy to read because it’s playing right now.
Eric Nam’s voice plays quietly through the cafe speakers, proclaiming mutual sexiness or whatever, and it corresponds exactly with the notes on the hand still holding Seungkwan’s precious coffee.
Jihoon whips his head up and around, desperate for something or someone just on the tip of his tongue. There aren’t that many people in the coffee shop, and he can quickly tell that neither the barista nor the old couple sitting in the corner are singing.
He sees your back first, your face hidden as you look out the window, and then he hears it.
Slowly, he approaches behind you, your humming becoming more and more clear with each step. He wants to roll around in a field of your voice. He wants to drink it like warm soup.
What the fuck? He needs to get his shit together.
Say hello, his brain oh so helpfully supplies. Don’t be weird.
And he means to. He really does. Jihoon is mature and chill and calm under duress. He’s pined after by millions. He’s humble and cool.
He’s pouring Seungkwan’s coffee on you.
Your entire body jolts, your drink flying out of your hand before you turn around with shock and fury mixed in your eyes.
Oh, god, your eyes.
“What the fuck!” you blurt out, and Jihoon’s eyes flick down to his hand, where the notes have disappeared and left only the five lines behind.
You’re real, you’re here, and—
“Hello?!”
—and you’re extremely pissed at him.
“Shit,” he whispers, so quiet even he can barely hear it, and no one could tell he’s saying anything underneath his mask. “Fuck. Shit. Fuck.”
“Why would you do that?!” You step closer to him, and in the back of his mind, Jihoon registers that he’s crushed both the cup in his right hand and the lid in his left. You squint, eyes skirting over his facial features not hidden by his mask. “Do I even know you?”
Jihoon stumbles back, half because this is exactly what his company told him not to do, and half because he’s incredibly intimidated. “I… I’m— Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean? Didn’t mean to straight up pour your coffee on me?”
Intelligently, he says, “It’s not my coffee.”
You scoff in clear disbelief, and Jihoon wants to smack himself. Lifting your hand, you open your mouth to no doubt tell him off some more — well deserved, honestly — but an alarm sounds. Gasping, you turn around and hurry back to your table, grabbing your phone and silencing the alarm with a quiet, “Damn it.”
Jihoon can only stand, frozen, while you quickly pack up your things. You almost speed-walk right past him to leave, but then you seem to change your mind, a determined frown of your face.
Weird how that’s cute, too.
“Give me your phone.” You hold your hand out.
Jihoon blinks. “My…?”
“Phone,” you finish for him, moving your fingers as if to say, come on, hand it over.
Well. How can he argue with that?
You type something into his phone that he can’t see because he’s busy being stupefied.
“Here.” You click his phone off and hand it back to him. “If you block me, I’ll kill you.”
And then you’re gone.
Jihoon just stands there, in the middle of the cafe, his phone in his hand and the plastic cup abandoned on another empty table.
On his phone, a text thread is open to an unknown number. Only one message has been sent, technically from him.
I’ll pay you back for the shirt
He stares at the text for a good while, a text from his soulmate to his soulmate.
Holy fuck this is his soulmate’s number.
Jihoon’s gawking is only interrupted by a message popping up over the unknown number.
[jeonghan] staff says get back here or we’re gonna be late
When Jihoon returns to the van, not just Seungkwan, but he and the rest of the vocal unit all give him a weird look. He’s holding his phone close to his chest, clutched so tight between his fingers you’d think it’s made of pure gold.
Yejung’s words from the meeting, right before dismissing everyone for the day, echo in the back of his mind.
“If you do happen to cross paths with your soulmate, tell us immediately. We need to keep this in-house.”
Jihoon smiles, almost a breath of a laugh, and he shakes his head to himself.
Oppositely, Seokmin frowns, and he leans closer to Joshua to stage-whisper, “I think he’s more sleep-deprived than we thought.”
Seungkwan addresses it directly, though. He scrutinizes Jihoon’s free hand, which is, well, free.
“Did you even buy anything?”
⭒
In the cafe, a tired, broke, just-trying-to-get-through-college barista mops the floor clean of two drinks, muttering, “One more weirdo and I’m quitting this fucking job.”
Pics I posted on my story for my crush to see - Yoon Keeho
OKAY GUYSSS IM BACKKKKKK. sry guys school is actually the worst and like im the most lazy bitch in the world sooo, ive rly been wanting to post something rly quick. but im working on stuff so yea. also guys lmk if I should like make this a series or not like lmk kk LOVE YAAA 🩷
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