“damn…” voice dripping with perverted amusement as they watched you with a hungry gaze, wanting to get a piece of you like a gold metal — rare and untouchable.
eyes diverting to you, scanning every piece of your curves as your muscles were commanding to your every move, your body moving to the rhythm — slow, teasing. the subtle light contrasted through the stage as it shines across your body. you look ethereal under the faint glow as your rhythmic movements made it impossible for many to not look your way as people who were sitting on booths from across the room or closer to you tried to get a peek at you while women were grinding against their laps – swiftly and hypnotizing, yet their attention was all on you.
you glowed under the faint shimmer as you danced like a swan — each movement fluid, each flow calculated with elegance as the spotlight choreographed to your rhythm. bills poured from the sky like confetti, men dressed in sophisticated clothing located at the bar examining you from afar, asking the bartenders who you were but they were too busy to give them the slightest bit of information.
the music began to fade in your ears, sending you into a deep void of your own thoughts.
many nights, repetitive nights. every day became exhausting as you got used to the smell of booze, weed, and of course sex.
every man that walked in was either drunk off of drugs or alcohol. always stumbling on their words, couldn’t keep their composure up, bathed in the stench of weed or couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. they always tried to make conversation but you weren’t interested. you’re just here for the money.
the club was pretty packed on most days. being located downtown was one of the perks of why business was booming. everyday was always an experience. missing shoes, socks, jewelry, even panties were scattered along the floor, left to rot like it was its purpose. many women dressed up in short skirts — short enough that it could pass up as a belt, paired with thin layers of fabric that clinged onto the curves of their body that barely covered half of what was meant to be hidden. but you can’t lie, they always looked really good.
as for the men, they were nothing special. all of them always had the same intention every time they came to the club — sex.
their gazes linger for mere seconds at women who were on the dance floor, stealing glances as their bodies would sway to the rhythm of the music while their clothes would betray them as the fabric slowly rode up revealing the curvature of their frames.
as a result, boners were present through their pants like a horny teenager seeing a sexy model dressed up in skimpy clothes through a playboy magazine. they didn’t care if the majority of these women had boyfriends; their minds were drunk off of getting pleasured. many of them trace their eyes in places they shouldn’t be looking while the sounds of catcalling can be heard from a distance as they admire the view in front of them.
and it wouldn’t be a club if you didn’t see make out sessions near the bathroom stalls. the sounds of moaning reverberated through the dim walls while the music was pounding in every part of the club.
to you, this was nothing special. everyday became pretty boring.
until today.
“that was quite the performance I must say.” a voice ringing through your ears. a voice that you recognize. your coworker, mia. the one who smiled everytime she came to work, the one who always supported you on the sidelines, the way her eyes sparkled every time she saw you, the one who you can call your friend.
“well I’m glad it's over with. i’m ready to go home.” you say with an exasperated tone as she offered you a robe. you gently grab it from her grasp as the cold air prickled onto your skin, making you shudder as you accepted her offer.
“aww c'mon, don’t you wanna stay and hang ouutttt..?” she delivers with a whiny tone, her face plastered with a pouty expression as she watches you wrap the robe around your body with ease.
“no, and my shift is almost over. why don’t we hang out another time.” you try to let her down easy as you both walk down the hallway, trying to get to your dressing room.
“ugh fineeee — you promise?” she rolls her eyes as she awaits for an answer, stopping halfway through the hallway.
“promise.” you turned to her and smiled as you agreed. you saw her off as her shift ended way later than yours.
the clacks of your heels bouncing off the walls like thunder on an eerie night. the hallway was dark, stretched like an endless loop — narrow, silent and disguised in the shadows. the only source of light came from the dying lightbulb that was at the far end. though your dressing room wasn’t far from the stage, it felt like it was a mile away from where you were.
the door opens with ease as you gently turn the knob to enter the room.
the loud treble of the music becomes muffled as the door closes shut behind you, only the bass vibrating against the surface.
you grab your backup clothes — shorts and cute black tube top that was draped over the back of your chair. before you start changing into more comfortable attire, you hear a faint knock from the door behind you.
“hey it’s me.” the voice coming from the other side of the door — muted and muffled.
it was your boss. oh god now what? you were already dreading whatever news he was about to give you.
“hm?” you hummed as you opened the door leaving a slight crack between both of you.
“i’ve got a favour to ask of you.” a pleading suggestion visible in his tone. “i know your shift just ended but, i got a request from someone that was called last minute”. he says as he pushes the door gently as he welcomes himself in without hesitation.
“ughh — seriously, you know that my shift just ended.” you said with an aggravated tone. “why can’t you send the other girls to do this?” you shift with your back rested against the door as it clicks shut behind you, barely audible from the muffled music playing in the background. arms crossed, covering the crack of your breasts.
“this person specifically requested you.” his voice, stern and composed. “look –- i know you’re drained out from the performance, but i’ll pay you extra if you agree to do this.”
you give it some thought before you utter a sound. the room filled with silence — thick and unnatural. you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, but extra cash wouldn’t hurt.
“alright fine. but you owe me for this.” you scoff under your breath. you abandon your stance as you start making your way to your chair as your clothes were left draped over it.
“glad you agree. once you’re done here, go find mia, she’ll fill you in.” he strides over to the door, leaving you with privacy.
you look in the mirror, the tiredness seeping out from your face as you feel pressure from your eyelids trying to fight the grogginess.
“alright, let’s get this over with.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
the scent of booze vivid in the air. it was intoxicating. the midnight sky filtered through the windows, painting the club with a cool tone that stretched throughout the club. the breeze felt hot — suffocating, an eerie stillness that was unreadable, unspoken of.
jaehyun sits at one of the booths, his gaze lingering across the room. spotting puffs of smoke in the air — a foggy mist, surrounding the club with a blurry atmosphere. the club was pretty chill, the steady sounds of chatter and clinking glasses booming through the room. the overhead lights reflecting a starry night radiance over the crowd of people.
glances from women who looked at his direction as he sat at one of the booths, minding his own business. they bit their lips, twirled their hair as it tangled around their fingers, their gazes observing him from top to bottom — with looks that spoke unheavenly scenarios surfacing in their minds.
mumbles of faint whispers heard throughout the room. exotic dancers, whispering about how attractive he was. the club was slightly dimmed, shadows of silhouettes grew larger with each step, the sound of heels clacking — deep and rich, deliberately echoing across the polished floor as it drew closer to him. pretending to drop something on the floor, erotically bending over, in hopes that his eyes would glance at them to be acknowledged or noticed.
he gives them a heart warming smile. dimples that accentuates deep into his skin, eyes crinkled with warmth and joy — pure innocence behind that smile.
it was no use.
he wasn’t interested at all.
now playing: ♫
the lights dim, contrasted with a subtle red tint. all dancers on poles exit from their own stages. the music gradually fades, softly turning up as the next song begins to play. all gazes shifted to the center stage — including his own.
there you were.
your presence captured many, mesmerized by the view in front of them like an angel sent from the heavens. clothed in pendants, clinging as your body moves fluidly like water, rippling as the pendants match to your hypnotic rhythm. your body covered in glitter, gleaming under the moonlit glow, radiating from the lighting as they paint you with a soft moonshine imprinted on your porcelain skin, making you the spotlight.
your hips swayed with the flow of the music. the bass, low and seductive, emerging through the room like smoke. your figure moved with it — slow, calculated and with purpose. fingertips tracing the sides of your body, highlighting the curves little by little. hips rolling slow and flirtatious as the song was playing.
you smiled as people were watching you with precision, observing you as you danced. you put on a smile, trying to seduce the crowd with your charm. until your eyes landed on one.
your eyes immediately latched onto his. your irises burning into his as you continue with your performance. he was cute. his gaze on you felt electric, with a hint of mischief. you feel your heart swell on your chest, pounding at an unsteady pace with overwhelmness – you were losing focus. you lift your gaze off of him, letting the intensity of the moment linger. and you continue on.
jaehyun’s gaze examined every inch of you. craved with desire. he took his time, taking in the view in front of him. the way your outfit hugged you in all the right places: your hips, waist, and chest. did you have a boyfriend? who is the lucky guy that gets to have you in his life everyday? does he know that he is dating a literal fucking angel? fuck.
a waiter appears into his vision, serving drinks as the performance continues. “would you care for one?” he says as he extends the tray to him.
jaehyun nods as he takes the drink from the tray.
before the waiter leaves to serve drinks to other customers. he calls out.
“hey, so who is that on stage?” he says with curiosity, never taking his eyes off of you.
the waiter leans closer to him, bending slightly to give a clear answer.
“oh! that's y/n. one of our best dancers, she’s pretty incredible….” he pauses with a look of admiration i’m guessing she caught your attention as well, i presume?”
“y -yeah….” his eyes focused on you.
“well if you want to get a one on one time, we offer quality time with one of the dancers in our private booths located near the bar.” he points to him in the direction of the booths. “the person in charge will gladly help you for more information. the girl with the ponytail, her name is mia, she’ll help you out.” he says with a smile on his face.
“alright thank you.” he nods as the waiter leaves.
shit. you were gorgeous.
he needed to have you tonight.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
you just wanted to go home. you were tired, grumpy but the universe said no. you stride to the private booth. all eyes, observing you with a devouring stare, focusing on you — only you.
you spot mia in the distance. and she spots you.
“heyyy girl, heard you got held back.”
“yeah….., some guy requested me at the last minute — great timing.” you try to shrug it off, but, inside you’re bothered by it. “boss told me that you know where he is?”
“yeah he should be standing around here somewhere………oh!, right there! he’s the one in the white shirt.” she points it out to you.
you glance at the direction of where she was pointing. he leans against the wall, phone in hand, covering the majority of his face. the illumination faded, casting the room in a soft, intimate moonlight glow, making it hard to see what he looked like but you did not care.
you make your way to his direction, wanting to get this over with. “alright, so you requested me?” you say with an exasperated tone.
he perks up from the sudden voice, he puts his phone away to see who was in front of him. it was you.
he utters a sound, only for it to be cut off by you. “yea-”
“alright, i’m going to assume it’s your first time here so i’ll go over the rules: the session is only an hour, there is no kissing, videotaping, touching and definitely no sex. got it?” you state as you lifted your head up to see if he was listening.
“got it.” he says to you, giving a light hearted smile.
it was the guy from before. only from a quick glance, you’d assume he was decent looking but no. this man was attractive, like really attractive. he was tall, taller than you imagined, his presence was intimidating, making the entire club feel like a blur as you look at him. he had a slim physique; his build was visible through his shirt, abs peeking through like he wasn’t trying to show off — he was just well built. his arms were well toned, his skin looked fair and smooth under the faint lighting, his veins visible as they ran down his forearm. he looked effortlessly pretty. your breath hitches, you doze off, not aware of your surroundings. shit, did the air feel hot or was your body hot? you didn’t know which.
“you okay?” he says with worry, as his face expresses concern.
your voice gets caught in your throat, trying to keep your reaction hidden. “y-yeah just got caught off guard, i mean, you’re…..you’re not exactly what i expected.” you clear your throat, trying to regain your composure but your cheeks are flushed and your body feels hot. you’re about to explode.
he chuckles softly, a sound that sends waves throughout your body. “and what exactly did you expect?” he asks, his eyes sparked with amusement and a smirk that hints something intense.
you hesitate, trying to compose the right words. “i don’t know, someone less captivating…..” you admit, shyness is visible in your voice. “you’re just — different.”
his expression softens, he takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. His presence, suffocating and overwhelming. “is that so…?” his voice, smooth, velvety and soothing to the ears. “you’re not so bad yourself, I'll admit.” he says as he stares at you with a look so — ravenous. “every curve, every breath, every angle, every step you take…..you’re mesmerizing.”
“oh?” you said with a teasing tone. “did my performance make you lose your words?” you look up at him seductively, your voice barely a whisper. “or perhaps did I make you want to explore places you’re dying to touch..?”
you were so close. a slight move, your lips would be touching.
nothing. no response. the answer he gave was his eyes trailing to your lips and then back on yours. he was so lost in them, couldn’t even form a sentence.
feeling satisfied, you slowly back away, leaving him craving more. you gesture to him to follow you by motioning your finger, turning your back as it faces him.
a chill runs down your spine as you feel him following, putting distance between both of you. you felt nervous, his presence imprinted a daunting feeling that left an itch on your body that you couldn’t get rid of.
scanning you, deliberate and lustful. the dips of your back — smooth like porcelain, the way your hips sway as you walk; the fabric motioned to your every move. you were so gorgeous
eyes lingering lower and lower in places that shouldn’t be looked at. it was shameful.
but he couldn’t wait. not even for a minute.
the booth had a deafening silence. the stillness in the room made the intensity between both of you — hot, dazed and disoriented. the door clicks shut behind him, automatically locking you both inside. you slowly turn up the music, not too loud but subtle.
he sits across from you, legs spread, arms stretched across the couch’s edge as he stares at you like a wolf stalking its prey. a teasing grin tugged on his lips as it sent goosebumps along your body.
his eyes never leave yours as you slowly make your way to him. you feel your heart thudding in your chest. each step felt heavy as you drew closer, the tension increasing inch by inch.
you stand in front of him, your hands gently clutching onto his shoulders, the soft touch of your delicate hands felt like a caress. you ease yourself onto his lap, gyrating your hips along his crotch — slow and enticing. you could feel him getting hard against you, the tip of his cock grazing between the inside of your thighs. a slight gasp leaves your lips as it’s poking between your legs, begging to be inside you.
you gaze at him — slow and seductive as he does the same. eyes shamelessly lingering along your body, absorbing every inch of you. he bites his lower lip as the thought of you pleasing him, makes him go feral.
jaw clenching, hands tightening into fists as the sensation was too much to bear. his head felt lightheaded, the tips of ears — tinted with a delicate blush, biting hard on his bottom lip like it was going to bleed from the pressure. he wanted to touch you so bad, restraining himself as he didn’t want to overstep the rules. but it was torturous.
"fuck…..” he muttered, voice low, dripping with arousal. “you’re so sexy…”
the warmth of your body against his made your stomach tingle with excitement. his gaze alone, made your pussy throb with hunger, awakening every fiber of your being — aching with a need for his touch. your breath hitched as his eyes traced the curves, leaving a trail of need, desperation in his stare. you could feel the dampness growing, a silent plea for the relief only he could provide.
every client you’ve had never made you feel like this before. this man had such an impact on you and he was a complete stranger. you didn’t know his name or anything — he could be a creepy guy with unknown intentions. but you couldn’t lie, you wanted him to touch you, in places that you wouldn’t let others touch.
you regret telling him that he couldn’t touch you. in all honesty, you wanted him to use you. fuck company policy, fuck the rules!
before he could process a thought, before he could process a breath, your hands are placed on both of his cheeks — gentle, firm and kind of nice to this touch. your lips crash against his. it catches his breath; uneven with each inhale he takes. he gasps in between each kiss, hands gently gripping your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss becomes sloppier, rough and demanding.
the world spun around you, feeling dizzy from the sensation. his lips trails light kisses down to your chin, neck and along your collarbone. each peck leaving a tingling feeling, a whisper of desire, an anticipation of what’s more to come.
“you taste so sweet baby…..” he mumbles against your skin, his voice, low and teasing.
your skin was so delicate, the feeling of silk in his hands — soft to the touch. he could hear your heartbeat thumping rapidly as his mouth grazed your skin. you smelled sweet, a creamy aroma resembling a warm embrace. he bites your skin leaving indented marks along your collarbone. your parted lips, your chest rising up and down and the way your body shudders against his own, sends shivers down your spine as he continues to pleasure you.
his hands clamp around your waist, gripping you firmly as he grinds his hips into you, his hardness drawing a sharp gasp to escape.
the clothes draw a barrier between you two, the tension immensely getting hotter with each passing second. a revelation yearning to be unveiled, waiting to be unraveled.
his hands roam lower until he reaches your shorts. he grabs the hem and slowly pulls them down, revealing your panties. you were soaked, a wet spot formed through the thin fabric.
he peels off your panties — gradually yet effortlessly while his lips are still on yours. your pussy, exposed to the cold air causing you to shudder in response. he pulls away, spitting on his middle finger and ring finger. he gently massages your pussy with circular motions, his fingers dripping with your arousal. “shit baby you’re so wet..” he curses under his breath. you whimper as his fingers gently caress your sensitive parts.
without hesitation, he inserts his fingers deep into your hole, your pussy gripping his fingers so tight. shit, the grip you had on his fingers was practically sucking him in, so deep. curling his fingers, tickling your sensitive spots, pumping in and out of you — the sounds of your pussy and your moans overlapping as it bounces across the room. “f-fuck…..mmmph!” you bite your bottom lip, teeth sinking into the flesh as you can feel the climax arriving. your hands trembling as you gripped on his shirt for support but your body felt weak to the sensation. he was making you feel so good.
“are you getting close, baby?” his voice, laced with hunger. you nod in response, lost in the pleasure to form a sentence. he smirks at the sight of you, he’s created such a mess of you and it wasn’t even his own dick. how will you take his dick if you couldn’t take his fingers?
he increases his pace, your moans becoming louder. the pressure was too much, your body was trembling against him, you couldn’t control it. “s-shit…i-i”m gonna come!” your eyes clenched shut, voice hoarse.
his fingers were drenched with your cum, glistening as ropes of it coat all over. his lips were coated with your hot slick as he barely brushes his fingers over it. his tongue slowly sticks out, licking his fingers as he savours your flavour.
you try to catch your breath, calming down your chest from heaving. until he flips you over, your ass aligned with his crotch.
“eek!” you shriek at the sudden movement.
you hear the sounds of shuffling as he removes his pants —the sound of him taking off his shirt . his belt clinks against the metal, the sharp sound indicates a realization. he was about to fuck you.
the feeling of his hardened cock against your ass, caressing your sweet hole with such ease. he grips your waist with a strong hold, positioning you as he takes one hand and aligns it with your entrance. your cum coating the tip of his dick as he slowly inserts it in.
“mmph..!” you gasp, your eyes widened. “fuuuucckkkk……” he dragged out, slowly pumping in and out of you before the pace started to increase rapidly. the grip he had on you was deadly, nails digging into the meat of your skin as the sounds of your pussy, squelching and sloshing against his dick. “baby y-you’re milking me so good..” the sounds of skin to skin contact started to get louder with each second, his grip on your waist moved to your neck, making his dick plunge deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot. “y-you’re f-ffucking me so g-good..” broken moans escape you with each thrust plunging you so good. his swollen dick was swallowing your gummy walls as your tight cunt was squeezing him so tight. “baby y–you gotta loosen up..” he swallowed thickly.
your hands gripped the fat of the couch for support, trying to form a sentence. “haah — you’re too big —”
his eyes darkened at your words, and his pace was brutal.
your eyes squeezed shut, loud pornographic moans pouring from your lips as he thrusted into you at such an animalistic pace.
the sounds of you and him were bouncing all over the walls as you both were lost in the pleasure. your lips formed in a line, trying to suppress your moans but he was fucking you so good.
“s-slow down!” you whined out, his dick abusing the fuck out of your cervix, showing no mercy. mmf — sorry baby i c–can’t— not when i have you like this.”
jaehyun tried to keep his voice down but the way your tight greedy pussy was milking his dick was too addicting. he felt his climax arriving with each thrust he jams into you, his whole body tensing as the feeling of the climax was what he needed. he wanted to fuck you ever since he saw you on the stage and he was not going to waste this opportunity. always got to finish what you started.
“b–baby I’m getting close, m’gonna pull out—” he muttered.
you shook your head, putting your hand on his back to keep him inside. “no, just cum i-inside me.”
he swallowed the lump in his throat. did he hear that right? holy shit. “i-inside…is that —”
“f–fuck, please c–cum inside me.” your voice, broken and hoarse.
score.
jaehyun groaned at the thought. you grabbed onto the couch for dear life as he shoots his cum inside of you, bucket loads of it fill you up to the brim — it felt endless. you ride out your orgasm, feeling every little bit wash over you.
he gently eased off of you slowly, pulling his dick out with care. his seed was overflowing, dripping down along your thighs. your skin felt sticky and hot like honey, sweat beading along your forehead as strands of your hair latched onto your skin. the sweat made your skin glow from the soft lightning. your breathing slowly regained to normal as he plopped himself onto the couch also trying to catch his breath. the tension was still thick in the air, “you know, i never catched your name.” you tried to wear off the awkwardness. “jaehyun.” he stares at you as he catches his breath.
the name rolls on your tongue, “jaehyun.” you say softly. this is definitely not the last time you’re both seeing each other.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
ubedolls' notes ⭑.ᐟ hey guys, wrote another fic idea! sorry it took so long. we're sorry to those who can't see the text that much but we gotta keep it pretty. kept overthinking too much while writing but hope y'all enjoy this!
warnings: smut, mdni, fluff, fake dating, poly!dreamies x reader, (m&f receiving) p in v penetration, pwp, masterbation (m&f receiving) shy!reader, innocent!reader, perv!dreamies, mature content, teasing, corruption, use of yn sorry :(
summary: dreamies x fan!idol!reader. reader has always had a crush on dreamies, and covering poison was the catalyst into your dating rumors and the start of your “fake relationship”
requested! had quite a few similar requests for hoobae!reader so i’ve incorporated all of them into one piece! hope you guys like it! :3 <3
you had debuted 4 years after dream, and you’re the maknae and lead dancer of your group, always shyly interacting and greeting dream and 127 at music shows, inkigayo and award ceremonies. you had a huge crush on the dream members and openly talked about being an nctzen so you always felt super embarrassed whenever you met them. the more confident members (always jaemin and chenle) were constantly cooing and teasing, laughing as they make you blush. god forbid they ever see you outside off schedule and notice any dreamiez plushies on your bag or a photocard in your phone case.
one time haechan had been asked to come to your green room to film a tiktok dance challenge for his solo CRZY, smiling and patting your shoulder when he spots a gomdo lee hanging from your bag next to a photocard of him in a teddy bear holder. you scramble to find a hoodie and throw it over your belongings but it’s too late, he’s already seen it, your members laughing hysterically at your red face
“ah i must be your favourite ynnie”
you can’t speak or look on his eyes just trying to bow respectfully towards him and his manager sets up the phone in the tripod
“what part do you want to do? i’ll teach you”
“let’s do the last chorus”
“that’s the hardest part”
“i know it”
he raises an eyebrow at you and you practice it, showing him you know the intricate footwork. he smiles and claps proudly and you guys film. when it’s uploaded later that day it’s going viral.
“you learned that on your own? i really must be your favourite”
mark is always coming to find you, talking with you with a tiny smirk on his face, to most it would look like casual conversation, but your fans and his know that he is loving this, getting you all shy and flustered, watching you shake and blush while trying to talk with him, all with those sultry eyes and arms crossed over his chest. god you were so cute and endearing to all of them, and they really loved knowing they’ll always have your support. all of them talking about you in the group chat, whenever you post something it’s getting screenshotted for them all to gush over. all of them wanting to see your cute blush from underneath them, legs shaking and chest heaving.
then came your poison cover.
you had recorded a cover of their song poison, and if nctzens thought the song was sexy before, hearing your lower register, mixed with your whiney tones, slowed the song right down, singing in almost a whisper, and your video you recorded for it too. your fans and nctzens are going crazy for it, it’s so different from anything they had seen from you or your group before, always doing more girly or cutesy concepts for your comebacks.
dream are all on a live, just doing silly things like they usually do, talking about their recent schedules and performances, but the masses of comments leaving your name catches all of their attention, hundreds of comments talking about your recent cover, begging them to react to it.
“huh? yn did a cover of our song?”
“ah wait tell us what song?”
“woah! poison? she really did that? like for real?”
“someone said she made it sexier? is this really possible? yn?”
they’re all going through comments
“she’s probably watching this right now, yn if you’re watching we can’t wait to see it”
and of course you were watching, blushing, freaking out not thinking they would notice or care about your cover, now hyper aware that they’re going to see you in a more mature setting, more revealing outfit and using a different kind of voice, one that’s more naturally desperate.
a few days later you’re getting a youtube notification for the official nct channel, and it’s dream reacting to your cover. your heart pounds as you start to watch it, they’re all leaning into the monitor, watching and listening closely. they’re shouting and cheering from the start, pausing to talk about your outfit, your make up the way you sound.
“is this really her? she looks a lot more mature”
“she really nailed the concept, but she made it her own”
“she looks really good, it’s nice to see her not being shy”
“ah ynnie you did good! thank you for covering our song”
the next time they see you they’re all cheering and giggling talking about your cover as your face beams red once again
“oppas! stop it~”
“you’re so cute! why are you blushing so hard! you did great!”
you try and hide but your members push you to face them again
“you can’t act shy now! you were so confident in your video!”
“i didn’t think you’d see it!”
they’re all laughing giving you hugs and pats on your head.
then came the dating scandal
your group had been spotted going for dinner with the dream members, all of them being polite and respectful towards your members, but still quite teasing and playful with you, at the end of the dinner you were seen hugging all of the members, and they were all looking at you like the were madly in love with you (they are) and then more and more old footage is getting brought back up, the clips of them talking about you, all your interactions, the way they treat you and bask in the glory of getting you flustered. rumors spreading like wildfire. each member wound up in a scandal with you
your manager has told you that the dream manager has requested to speak with you. something about pr.
you’re gulping as you walk into the board room at sm, all of them watching you like hawks as you slip into the room.
“i’m sure you’re all aware of the rumors spreading online, and this is your first time getting caught up in this kind of thing right?”
you nod your head yes
“uh… yeah…”
your manager and their manager start talking solutions, before mark is speaking up.
“i think we should lean into it personally… the traction it’s gotten both our groups is insane, we would be stupid not to capitalise on this. we could feed the fans what they want to see”
“mark im not following you”
“well think about it, how many streams have both of us got in the last 48 hours since these rumors started, how many videos have been played, how many interactions have our accounts gotten, all of these things are monetised, we could just… fake date, the fans want to see it, so why don’t we let them? you agree right yn?”
“i- i mean it doesn’t sound that bad of an idea, i guess- i don’t know, if mark thinks it’ll work i trust him”
your manager looks at you, then so does theirs
“you want to fake date 7 men?”
“it could work”
mark is smiling clenching his fists under the table at how excited he is, how easily you would conform to what he asks of you.
“it’ll shoot both group sales through the roof, i promise, plus it’s not like we’d all be dating for real, it’s just for the fans”
he looks into your eyes giving you a knowing look, and you don’t need any more convincing, the look in his eyes telling you that if you do this, all your fantasies about them can and will come true. it is enough to have you obeying and listening to whatever they tell you. smiling softly as you bite your lip, looking back to your manager
“i don’t think you would be doing your job if you didn’t want what’s best for my group unnie, you should think about the sales”
your manager is a little shocked at your words, she can see in your eyes that mark has literally just corrupted you in front of their eyes. you look at all 7 of them, smiling sweetly, they’re all reciprocating the same look towards you, then to their manager
“are we all agreed? it’s what’s best for the teams”
“are you sure you want this?”
“why wouldn’t i?”
“it’s unorthodox, usually we try and keep away from any dating scandals”
“usually fans don’t want to see it”
jeno has a proud smile on his face as he watches you fight for this. fight to be theirs.
“if she is happy with it, so are we”
your managers draw up a contract, then 8 NDA’s making you all sign them, accepting the proposal to fake date, schedule availability for joint content, a feature on each others upcoming albums, logistics and monetisation. then they’re drafting up an announcement, getting all 8 of you to check it over and make tweaks. then they leave you alone, to discuss your first content. when the door shuts renjun speaks up
“you were good, very convincing princess”
“did i sound too desperate?”
“a little, but you’re cute so we’ll let it slide”
mark comes up to you, turning your seat to face him as you look up at him
“good thinking on your feet angel”
you smile at him, loving the petnames and praise already.
“you did most of the work”
“and you followed along perfectly, good girl”
chenle coming up to you now, taking your hand and pulling you up, he can feel your hands are shaking slightly
“you nervous? don’t be, it’s just us”
“i know… it’s just… you know…”
he hums approvingly, brushing your hair out your face.
“i know sweetheart, but it’s okay, you’re in safe hands yeah? we’re not gonna let anything happen to you, just have to trust us, and listen to us, we’ll keep you right”
jaemin butting in
“chenle is right, if you just keep following our lead, we’ll do the hard work, you just have to love on us alright?”
“i can do that”
“we know you can”
he has that cunning smile on his face as you duck your head embarrassed again, then jisung speaks up
“have you ever kissed anyone?”
“i-uhh no…”
“well maybe you should practice, yeah? come give us all some kisses, we’ll teach you”
haechan smiles all smug standing up
“i’ll go first considering she has my photocard on her bag”
jaemin pushing his shoulder
“she has mine on there too idiot”
then jeno speaks up
“yeah mine is in her phone case”
jisung too
“mine is on her wallet, and in a little pocket on her bag”
you have all 7 of them somewhere on your belongings, renjun and jeno have little plushies on your bag, jisung and jaemin patches sewed in, photo cards in holders dangling from your bag and wallet. haechan just rolls his eyes
“whatever, i still want the first kiss”
they start bickering and you cut them off by pulling haechan into you, smashing your lips to his and he kisses back instantly. all of them stood in shock watching. after a quick make out your pulling back out of breath and he’s catching his own
“how was that?”
“and you said you’ve never kissed anyone before? i don’t believe you”
“it’s true!”
“where did you learn to kiss like that?”
“kdramas”
he laughs a little breathless, then you’re pulling each of them in one by one for the same treatment. once you’ve kissed them all you’re sitting in marks lap, talking about what your first moves as “boyfriends and girlfriend” should be
“i know the contract says fake baby, but want you to know there’s nothing fake going on here, not with us, just have to pretend it’s fake for our companies, yeah?”
“okay…”
“this doesn’t stop when the cameras turn off”
“good, i don’t want it to”
he’s kissing your cheek and squeezing you closer to his chest.
months have now gone by, news of your “relationship” has been announced and mark was right, it had boosted both group’s popularity, your group is getting opportunities that others in your generation haven’t yet seen. winning awards and being invited overseas for appearances and talk shows, plus also boosting dream and nct as a whole too. as promised you had told your members it was all fake, the late nights at the SM building with them filming content for your own youtube, or the sleepovers at their apartments for PR and photo ops, taking the same flights and matching couples items all for show.
but what you don’t tell anyone is every sleepover is filled with them taking shots at you, filling you up with a load or two each. working on music with them and sucking mark off in the studio late at night. choreographing with jisung until he’s had enough dancing, but his stamina and energy still raging, holding you up against the wall of the practice room pushing into you while you moan into his neck or laying you against the floor while he goes down on you. jaemin taking candid photos of you, naked just fresh out of his shower or after you’ve just had sex just for them to see, jeno taking you for drives at night, fingers up your skirt playing with your pussy as you whine and buck against his palm. renjun dressing you up in pretty clothes, hands roaming over your body squeezing your tits as you put on one of the pretty blouses he bought for you. jerking chenle off on the bleachers at the basketball court, crawling under haechans desk as he plays league, smiling and giggling up at him when he can’t concentrate from your cheeks hollowing around him.
they kept their promises of loving you and letting you love them. and your fans and colleagues are none the wiser either. living the perfect double life. keeping your fans and your 7 boyfriends happy and satisfied.
At Seorin High School, you and your 7 friends discover "Girigo", a mobile application that claims to grant users' wishes. Following the sudden death of your classmate, a connection is discovered between the application and a series of supernatural omens predicting the deaths of other students. Riki, Sunghoon, Jake, Jungwon, Sunoo and Heesung attempt to stop the cycle of deaths by investigating the app's origins
warnings ⚠︎ : horror, death, self harm, suicide, gore ( not excessive), ghosts, curses, everyone is 18 and +, mature themes : MDNI. ! , smut (consensual, unprotected sex ( do not do that), mutual masturbation, dry humping, oral, &more) fluff, angst, talks of entities and dark materials, shamanism, possessions etc…
⋮ a/n : all credits belong to netflix yk the drill this is only for funsies and this is purely fictional. i had to pause the show every 2 minutes and watch it 3 times in order to write this accurately 😭
taglist : @enha7beshit @collywobblvs @jakeycakeys
masterlist
CHAPTER 1 :
The alarm on your nightstand rang at exactly 6:40 a.m, vibrating louder than the cheap speaker could handle. You groaned into your pillow, blindly reaching for it before the noise could start overstimulating your brain. Every single morning, you swore you would nuke this stupid alarm and the headache that it gave you.
You sat up slowly, hair messy, eyes half-lidded as you stretched your arms above your head. The faint hum of the city filtered in through the window, mixed with the distant sound of buses passing below. For a few seconds you just stayed there, staring at nothing, before your mind fully caught up with the day ahead, school, deadlines, and the usual routine that never really changed.
After getting ready, you shuffled into the kitchen still half-dazed. Breakfast was simple, almost automatic at this point: toast, a protein shake, the kind of meal you didn’t really think about. Your phone lay next to your plate, screen lighting up with notifications you ignored for now. It was probably your aunt and her usual texts about how she couldn’t make it because she had patient emergencies, they were usual, always expected and never a surprise. Instead, your fingers moved to your contacts.
Jake.
You typed quickly: “you awake?” then added, after a second of hesitation, “don’t make me wait again.”
A few seconds passed. Nothing. You rolled your eyes slightly, taking another bite of toast, until your phone buzzed.
From above, a sharp thump-thump echoed through the ceiling: his signal. Two knocks meant yes, he was awake. Typical Jake. You huffed a small laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you grabbed your bag.
“Yeah, yeah, i know you’re awake, lazy” you muttered.
You stepped out of your apartment, locking the door behind you, and headed toward the elevator, adjusting the loosened ribbon around your collar while trying not to yawn. The hallway smelled faintly of detergent and morning air, the building still mostly quiet except for distant doors opening and closing. You pressed the button, rocking slightly on your heels as you waited. A smile couldn’t help but creep on your face, you know how this usually went but you still apprehended it.
A couple of seconds later, you heard quick footsteps above, then the sound of another door opening. You didn’t even need to look up to know who was rushing down the stairs.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. You stepped inside with a coy smile.
“Hold it—”
Jake appeared around the corner, slightly breathless, black backpack hanging from one shoulder. His silver rings glinted as he grabbed the wall beside you to stop himself. Even messy like that, he was impossible to ignore, tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of presence that made the small space of the elevator feel even smaller. But the moment his eyes landed on you, everything about him softened.
It was embarrassing how obvious he was.
If he were anything else, anything less human, he’d be a dog left alone for five minutes and reunited with its owner, tail already thumping against the ground before he even got close.
“You’re gonna trip and fall one day,” you said.
His expression shifted instantly into something helplessly affectionate, like he didn’t even try to hide it anymore : “That’ll be your fault, you always almost leave without me.”
He stepped inside next to you, your shoulders brushing naturally. Jake immediately reached for your hand behind his bag where nobody could see, not even the walls.
Dating secretly for 3 months had turned both of you into professionals.
The doors began closing.
Sunghoon glanced down the empty hallway once before leaning closer. “You look half dead.”
You scoffed, you knew it wasn’t an insult but rather concern.
“I am half dead.”
“You were up studying?”
“Erm… no just watching videos.” you lied.
“Liar.”
His mouth twitched slightly. You looked so adorable when you lied about studying, pretending like you didn’t love shoving your face in books and read til your eyes fell out of their socket.
You barely had time to protest before he gently cupped your jaw and dropped a small peck on your lips.
“Hey asshole. I was about to speak!” You feigned annoyance but the truth was that his kisses were well deserved fuel.
“You have the whole day to speak. Just let me kiss you for now.” He smiled, distracted by the curve of your plump lips.
He leaned towards your face, catching them in a tantalizing kiss, breathless and secret. His fingers were cupping your chin, the other hand on your waist.
And suddenly the elevator jerked to a stop on the next floor.
An elderly man stepped inside with a grocery cart, eyebrows drawn together, grumpy.
You and Jake sprang apart so fast it almost looked rehearsed.
The old man looked between the two of you with narrowed eyes. He looked like he was about to curse a whole entire generation of people.
Jake suddenly found the elevator buttons extremely interesting.
You stared at the ceiling, admiring the beautiful erm… lines, and different materials.
A painful silence settled inside the cramped space, and all you wanted to do was burst out laughing.
“Young people these days,” the old man muttered.
Your face burned instantly.
Beside you, Jake quietly covered his mouth, shoulders shaking with restrained laughter.
You kicked his shoe.
“Don’t start.” You whispered through clenched teeth.
The old man sighed dramatically all the way down to the lobby, like two young people kissing was the origin of his demise.
The morning outside Seorin High was already loud with movement, students spilling out of nearby apartment buildings, bus engines sighing at stops, the city stretching itself awake in impatient fragments of light. You and Jake merged into that flow without even needing to coordinate it anymore, like two familiar constants drifting through the same current.
Jake walked slightly too close beside you again. His tall frame cut through the crowd easily, shoulders relaxed, hands in his pockets, but his attention… his attention was never anywhere else for long.
It kept returning to you.
Not in glances that disappeared quickly, but in full pauses. Like he forgot to pretend otherwise.
If he were anything, he would’ve been a dog off-leash in a park, constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure you were still there. And the moment you moved even slightly ahead of him, he matched your pace immediately, like distance between you physically annoyed him.
“You look pretty today. And yesterday too of course. Well any day…” he panicked.
“Thanks silly.” You smiled at him, looking around to see if someone was listening. “You don’t look bad yourself.”
Jake blushed. He always did, not matter if it had been 3 months, he still felt the heat of his cheeks whenever you talked to him.
Ahead, the rest of your group had already started gathering near the corner where everyone usually met before walking to school. The familiar cluster of seven boys and your friend stood waiting like clockwork, voices overlapping in the morning air.
Na-ri was the first to notice you, immediately waving dramatically like she hadn’t seen you in years instead of hours.
“Finally!” she called out. “I was about to die of boredom waiting for you guys.”
Beside her stood Riki, barely reacting outwardly but clearly aware of her presence in the way his posture subtly shifted. Na-ri, however, looked completely normal on the outside; if you ignored the way she kept hovering closer to him every few seconds.
A few steps away, Jay leaned against a wall with his phone in hand, completely absorbed. Someone had once joked he looked like a “Discord mod in real life,” and unfortunately, the description had stuck. Dark hoodie, slightly tired eyes, and the aura of someone who probably argued about settings and server roles more than actual people.
Jay looked up. “If you’re late again, I’m muting both of you,” he said, fidgeting with his phone case.
“Someone wake this dude up please.” Jungwon rolled his eyes looking at Jay.
The group slowly started moving together toward school, forming their usual chaotic walking formation. Voices overlapped immediately, half teasing, half sleep-deprived complaints about homework, teachers, and the absurdity of waking up before 7 a.m.
And as always, Jake stayed right next to you.
Not behind. Not ahead, next to.
Like it was the only correct position.
Heesung glanced between you two with a grin. “You two are seriously not dating?”
Riki immediately jumped in. “Yeah, you’re literally always together. Same building, same route, same timing…”
Jake almost immediately shook his head. “No.”
You answered at the exact same time. “No.”
The synchronization made then laugh.
“Too fast,” Jay muttered, walking backwards in front of you. “Suspicious.”
“It’s not suspicious,” Jake said, a little too quickly, eyes flicking to you for half a second before he looked away again. “It’s just normal.”
“Yeah,” you added. “We’re just neighbors. Why wouldn’t we go to school together.”
“Neighbors who act like a married couple,” Na-Ri teased.
Jake finally turned his head slightly toward you, not fully, just enough for you to catch it. His expression was calm, but there was something quietly attentive in his gaze, like he was listening to every reaction you had even when you weren’t speaking.
If he were a dog, this would be the moment his ears would perk up at your voice alone, tail already wagging just because you stood beside him.
“We’re not dating,” he repeated, but softer this time.
You nodded once. “We’re not.”
The conversation slowly dissolved back into general noise, laughter returning, footsteps continuing along the pavement toward Seorin High. Cars passed by in bursts of sound, wind tugging lightly at uniforms and hair.
The classroom at Seorin High was bright in that harsh morning way, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead, sunlight cutting through the windows in pale rectangles that landed unevenly across desks. The air smelled like paper, dry erasers, and faint traces of coffee someone had clearly smuggled in.
You slid into your seat just as the second bell rang, dropping your bag beside your chair with a soft thud. In front of you sat Jungwon, already seated perfectly upright like he’d been there for hours even though you went to school together. Instead of getting coffee from the vending machines he had preferred to go up to prepare his notebooks.
His laptop was open, fingers moving across the keyboard with quiet precision, eyes focused in a way that made him look like he belonged more in a lecture hall than a high school classroom.
From the side of the room, Jay dropped into his seat with exaggerated exhaustion, immediately spinning his chair slightly before pointing at Jungwon’s laptop like it was a life-or-death situation.
Jay leaned forward. “Yo, Jungwon. Fix my laptop.”
Jungwon finally glanced sideways. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It exists,” Jay said flatly.
A few students snickered. Someone in the back muttered, “He probably smacked it when he saw that his discord kitten blocked him.”
“Fuck off, peasant.” Jay replied without hesitation. “It’s my birthday soon. Fix it as a gift.”
Jungwon blinked once. “That’s not how birthdays work.”
“It is in my system.”
Before Jungwon could respond, the classroom door slid open sharply.
The teacher walked in, holding a stack of papers that immediately silenced the room. The atmosphere shifted, subtle but immediate, like everyone collectively straightened their posture without thinking.
“Settle down,” the teacher said, placing the papers on the desk. “I have results from the latest mock math exam.”
A few groans echoed softly, but no one dared to speak over it.
The teacher adjusted his glasses, scanning the room.
“As a class,” he continued, “Seorin High Class 2-A placed first in the entire Seorin City math rankings.”
A ripple of surprise moved through the room. A few heads turned, some students whispering excitedly.
“The city had only four perfect scorers this time,” the teacher added, pausing slightly for effect, “and two of them are in this classroom.”
That got immediate reactions.
The teacher lifted the papers slightly.
“First place… Jungwon.”
No one was surprised. He was top of his classes, excelled in everything he did.
You smiled at him, happy for yet another one of his successes. Then applause broke out almost instantly.
The room shifted and people leaned forward slightly.
“…is Jay.”
The silence that followed was immediate and heavy.
No applause. Just stunned quiet.
Jay slowly turned his head toward the teacher like he had misheard something fundamental about reality. “… me?” he asked.
The teacher nodded slowly. “Yes. You.”
A beat passed.
Then someone in the back whispered, “There’s no way.”
Another student laughed nervously. “Wait, is this a glitch?”
The teacher tilted his head slightly, joking, “Which is exactly why there will likely be an investigation into his grade.”
That made the class erupt into confused laughter.
For the first time since you’d known Jay, he didn’t have a response ready.
He just stood there, mouth slightly open, blinking slowly like his brain had completely disconnected from the situation.
But no one knew why he looked so genuinely shocked.
Not even you.
The lunch bell rang through Seorin High with its usual chaotic relief, chairs scraping, voices rising, students pouring out of classrooms like they’d been released from confinement. The hallways filled instantly with noise, laughing, shouting, the shuffle of shoes against polished floors.
You and your group moved instinctively toward your usual spot.
It was tucked away behind the sports building, a half-hidden corner where the noise of the school softened into distant echoes. The kind of place no teacher really checked, and no one bothered to claim. It belonged to you by routine alone.
One by one, everyone arrived.
Jay was already there when you sat down, unusually alert. Too alert. He wasn’t scrolling his phone like usual. He was waiting, practically vibrating with energy, eyes wide like he’d been holding something in all morning and could finally let it out.
Na-ri dropped her bag onto the ground with a loud, irritated sigh. “If this is about your usual nonsense, I swear I’m leaving.”
Na-ri had that sharp, almost intimidating confidence that made people listen even when she wasn’t trying to lead. She didn’t ask what was going on, she decided it was probably stupid first.
“It’s not nonsense,” Jay said quickly.
That alone made the group pause.
Riki leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression half-bored, half-amused. Riki always looked like he was one second away from laughing at everything and nothing at the same time.
Sunoo sat beside him, posture neat, expression soft but edged with quiet sarcasm. He tilted his head slightly. “You say that every week.”
Jay shook his head quickly. Too quickly.
“No, listen,” he said.
Jay stepped forward slightly, almost shaking with excitement. He held out his phone, showing a black screen with two hands in a begging position.
“That’s the reason I got a perfect score in math even though I don’t work.”
There was a silence cause Jay always said frankly silly things.
Then there were immediate reactions.
Na-ri blinked. “What?”
Riki let out a short laugh. “Bro, be serious.”
Sunoo frowned slightly. “That’s… not how exams work.”
Jay didn’t even hear them properly. He was already unlocking his phone, hands moving fast, almost frantic with excitement.
“I told you,” he said. “It’s real. It’s called Girigo.”
The name landed oddly. Not enough for panic. Just enough for silence to stretch a little longer than normal.
Na-ri frowned. “That sounds like a fake mobile game ad.”
“It’s not a game,” Jay said quickly. “It’s an app.”
Sunghoon finally looked up. “Never heard of it.”
“Because it’s not on the App Store,” Jay replied immediately, like he’d rehearsed it. “You don’t download it normally.”
Riki tilted his head slightly. “So… how do you get it?”
“A link,” Jay said, already pulling out his phone. “Someone sends you a link. That’s it.”
Sunoo exhaled softly. “That already sounds like a scam.”
Jay ignored him and turned his screen toward the group.
The app was open.
GIRIGO.
Dark interface. Minimal design. Too clean, too empty, like it wasn’t trying to look like anything at all.
Jay’s eyes were wide, completely convinced, almost glowing with excitement. Not the calm confidence of someone joking, but something sharper. Delirious, almost euphoric.
“See?” he said. “This is it.”
Jake looked at you, expression worried.
Na-ri squinted. “That looks like a fake horror app.”
“It’s not fake,” Jay insisted.
Now Jungwon leaned in slightly over Sunghoon’s shoulder, interest shifting from casual to technical curiosity. “Send it.”
Jay immediately tapped. “Okay.” The link appeared in the group chat almost instantly.
And that’s when Jungwon took his Sunghoon’s phone in his hands. “I’m checking it,” he said simply, already opening it.
Na-ri groaned. “Of course you are.”
Riki smirked faintly. “He’s the type to download a cursed app just to see what happens.”
Sunoo leaned back slightly. “That’s how you die first in horror stories.”
Jungwon ignored all of them, focused. “It opens a page… not an actual store listing.”
Jay nodded fast. “Exactly.”
“It looks… too minimal,” the tech savvy said, still studying it. “No developer info.”
“Because it’s not normal,” Jay said.
Na-ri crossed her arms. “You’re both insane.”
Then, Jungwon paused. “…It’s asking for input,” he said.
Jay’s eyes lit up instantly. “Right. You write a wish.”
That got everyone’s attention again.
Riki let out a short laugh. “A wish?”
Jungwon raised a brow. “Be serious.”
“I am serious,” Jay said, almost offended now. “You write it. And it happens.”
Then, before anyone could interrupt again, he tapped something else on his phone.
“Wait,” he said quickly. “I have proof.”
Sunghoon narrowed his eyes slightly. “What kind of proof?”
Jay didn’t answer. Instead, he opened a video.
And turned the phone toward you.
The video was shaky, clearly recorded in his room. Dim lighting. A desk. A sheet of paper in his hands.
Jay’s voice from the recording was quieter, focused.
“Please make it so that I have a perfect score in math.”
He held the paper up slightly toward the camera, like an offering, like something being submitted.
Then in the video, he tapped on the phone screen and there was A final confirmation.
The clip ended and for a moment, no one spoke, even Riki didn’t laugh right away this time.
Sunoo’s expression softened into confusion. “That’s… just you recording yourself.”
Na-ri frowned harder. “Yeah. That proves nothing.”
“It does,” Jay said instantly, too fast, almost offended. “It worked.”
He swiped back to the app screen again, like it would reinforce everything.
Jay didn’t laugh.
He just looked at his phone again.
And turned it toward you.
A countdown.
23:00:00
You frowned slightly. “What is that?”
Jay blinked. “That wasn’t there before.”
Sunghoon leaned in again. “Timer.”
Jay smirked. “Cooldown. Obviously.”
Na-ri scoffed. “You’re believing a timer app now?”
“I’m not believing it,” Jay said quickly, then softer, almost confused with himself. “It just… showed up.” he pointed at it, breathless. “Look. That’s why I can’t use it again yet. It worked already. That’s the cooldown.”
Na-ri rolled her eyes. “This is honestly embarrassing.”
But Jay didn’t react like before.
He just stood there, staring at the screen like it was the most obvious truth in the world.
Completely convinced.
Completely certain.
And for a second, in the middle of laughter and disbelief, the excitement in him didn’t look like a joke at all anymore, it looked like something that had already taken root too deeply to be pulled out.
The bathroom was quieter than the rest of the high school.
The noise of lunch break became muffled once the door closed behind you, reduced to distant echoes through tiled walls and humming fluorescent lights. A few girls stood near the sinks fixing their makeup before leaving again, until eventually it was only you and Na-ri left inside.
Na-ri stood in front of the mirror, arms folded as she inspected herself with narrowed eyes. She adjusted the waistband of her skirt slightly, then turned sideways, gaze dragging critically over her reflection.
You leaned against the sink beside her. “Did you even eat lunch?”
“No.”
her answer came immediately.
You frowned slightly. “Na-ri.”
“What?” she muttered, still staring at herself. “I need to watch my weight before Jay’s party this weekend.”
You blinked once.
She was already skinny. Painfully so sometimes.
But Na-ri always looked at herself like she was searching for flaws no one else could see.
“You look fine,” you said.
She scoffed softly. “Easy for you to say.”
Then her expression twisted slightly, annoyance returning as naturally as breathing.
“And honestly,” she continued, fixing her hair now, “who even throws birthday parties at his age?”
You already knew where this was going.
“Jay does,” you replied.
“Exactly.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s so immature. Everything he does fucking annoys me.”
Her tone carried that sharp, effortless cruelty she used so casually sometimes, not loud, not dramatic, just cutting enough to make people feel small without her having to try.
You sighed quietly. “He’s nice, Na-ri.”
“That’s not the point.”
“yeah it is.”
“No, it’s not,” she snapped, finally turning away from the mirror. “Did you see him earlier? Sitting there talking about some creepy wish app like a psychopath?”
“Girigo?” you asked carefully.
“Yes, Girigo,” she mocked immediately. “What kind of loser even believes that?”
You stayed quiet. Na-ri laughed dryly, crossing her arms. “Seriously, he looked insane. Like some weird freak Reddit freak.”
“That’s harsh.”
“It’s true.”
You frowned. “His family is really sensitive about his grades.”
That made her pause slightly.
Only slightly. Then she shrugged. “Okay? That doesn’t make him less weird.”
You opened your mouth to argue again, but she had already grabbed her lip gloss and started walking toward the door.
The hallway outside was crowded again, students flowing between classrooms in messy streams of noise and uniforms. Na-ri walked beside you confidently, shoulders straight, gaze sharp enough that people naturally moved aside for her without realizing.
“You know what I’m more interested in?” she said suddenly.
“What?”
“What Jake’s wearing this weekend.”
Your stomach tightened instinctively.
She didn’t notice, of course she didn’t.
Because no one knew about you and Jake.
Na-ri smirked faintly to herself. “He always dresses annoyingly well.”
You forced your expression to stay neutral. “You care about what he wears?”
“Everyone cares what Jake wears,” she replied matter-of-factly. “He could wear a garbage bag and girls would still stare.”
You looked away before your face betrayed anything.
To everyone else, Jake was just Jake; quiet, handsome without trying, smart in a way people forgot because he hid it behind awkward smiles and hoodies. The kind of boy people naturally gravitated toward without understanding why.
But to you…
You pushed the thought away quickly.
Instead, you asked, “Did you already buy Jay a birthday gift?”
Na-ri groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind me”
“You’re not getting him one?”
“Why would I waste money on him?”
You sighed. “Because he’s your friend.”
“He’s your friend,” she corrected immediately. “Everyone just puts up with his Discord mod behavior because he’s harmless.”
You frowned harder now. “That’s just mean.”
“It’s true,” she insisted. “And you seriously need to stop encouraging him all the time. It doesnt help him.”
“I’m not encouraging him.”
“Yes, you are.” She glanced at you. “You’re too nice to him. That’s why he keeps acting like this.”
You opened your mouth again-
Then stopped abruptly.
Because ahead of you, right near the staircase landing, Jay was standing there.
You said her name sharply. “Na-ri.”
She froze immediately.
Jay stood halfway down the stairs holding two corn dogs and a canned drink. Up close, he looked rougher than earlier, dark circles under his eyes more visible now, shoulders slightly slumped like the excitement from lunch had finally burned itself out.
He blinked at both of you slowly.
“…Why’d you stop talking?” he asked.
Na-ri answered so fast it almost overlapped his question.
“We were talking about your birthday gift.”
Jay stared for a second.
Then smiled automatically, awkward but genuine. “Oh.”
The silence after that felt horrible.
“You don’t need to bring anything, by the way,” he continued quickly, lifting one of the corn dogs slightly. “Seriously. Just come. Your presence is enough.”
“You say that now,” Na-ri replied, trying too hard to sound normal again. “But if we show up empty-handed you’ll definitely cry.”
Jay laughed softly at that.
Too softly.
You could tell he was pretending now, pretending everything was normal, pretending he hadn’t heard anything.
The conversation dragged awkwardly for another minute, Na-ri overcompensating with fake teasing, Jay smiling politely through it, you standing there painfully aware of the tension settling heavier and heavier into the staircase air.
Then eventually, Na-ri checked the time. “We’re gonna be late,” she said quickly.
She brushed past Jay first.
You followed a second later, but before fully leaving, you glanced back once.
Jay was still standing there alone on the staircase. His smile disappeared almost instantly after Na-ri turned away.
The afternoon math class felt unbearably warm.
Sunlight poured lazily through the classroom windows, turning the dust in the air visible as it drifted slowly above rows of desks. The teacher’s voice blended into the background in a steady monotone, equations filling the board one after another while almost no one paid attention anymore.
Even the students pretending to listen looked exhausted.
At the front, the math teacher continued writing formulas with determined enthusiasm despite the obvious lack of interest from the room.
“Now if we isolate the variable here—”
Needless to say nobody cared about no fucking variable.
Pens tapped lazily against desks. Someone near the windows was half asleep. Riki had his chin resting against his hand, gaze completely unfocused like his soul had already left the building thirty minutes ago. Riki only seemed alive during lunch breaks or flirting.
Beside him, Sunoo was at least making an effort to look attentive, though the faintly judgmental expression on his face suggested he was mentally critiquing everyone in the classroom instead of listening to derivatives.
At the front row, Jungwon was the only person genuinely taking notes. Of course he was. His handwriting remained perfectly neat even at impossible speed, posture straight, expression calm and unreadable like he’d ascended beyond ordinary academic suffering.
A few seats away, Sunghoon leaned back casually in his chair, athletic jacket draped over one shoulder, looking effortlessly composed even while zoning out completely. Somehow even boredom looked good on him.
And then there was Jake.
Jake sat quietly near the windows, absentmindedly spinning a pen between his fingers while staring at the board with the vague concentration of someone trying to listen but losing the battle.
Your eyes drifted toward him before you could stop them.
The sunlight caught against the side of his face softly, outlining the curve of his jaw, the loose strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. He looked calm. Unaware. Pretty in the quietest way possible.
Then your gaze shifted slightly.
Na-ri was staring at him, no casually.
Actually staring.
Na-ri rested her cheek against her hand with a small smile tugging at her lips, a rare expression on her, softened by interest instead of irritation.
And Jake didn’t even notice, of course he didn’t.
He kept turning the pen lazily between his fingers until suddenly—
it slipped.
The pen clattered loudly onto the floor.
Jake startled slightly at the sound, immediately leaning down awkwardly to grab it, shoulders tense in embarrassed haste.
Na-ri giggled quietly beside you.
Something hot twisted instantly in your chest, it was ridiculous, a stupid reaction.
But the sound of her laugh made your blood boil anyway.
Jake finally sat back up, ears faintly pink now from embarrassment, fingers tightening around the pen again.
And then he looked up.
Not at Na-ri, not at anyone else.
At you. Immediately.
Like his eyes searched for you first without thinking.
The irritation in your chest stumbled awkwardly into something softer, more dangerous.
Jake blinked once after meeting your gaze, expression still shy from fumbling the pen. Then he smiled slightly, small enough that no one else would notice it.
And before either of you could hold the moment too long—
The teacher’s voice cut sharply across the room.
“Jake.”
He straightened instantly. “Yes?”
“Since you achieved a good score,” the teacher said, adjusting his glasses, “perhaps you’d like to explain the solution.”
A few students groaned dramatically.
Riki muttered in a low voice. “Damn. Cooked.”
Sunoo snorted softly and Jake looked like he wanted the ground to open beneath him.
Still, he stood up politely, pushing his chair back with awkward care before walking toward the board. Tall, slightly shy, trying not to draw attention despite every eye naturally following him anyway.
Na-ri watched him go with obvious interest.
And beside you, the empty feeling from earlier returned when your gaze shifted toward Jay.
Jay wasn’t joking around anymore.
Wasn’t on his phone, wasn’t speaking. He was just staring at his desk, completely still.
The brightness from lunch had vanished entirely, leaving behind something blank and distant instead. His eyes looked unfocused, fixed somewhere far beyond the scratched surface of the table like he wasn’t fully inside the classroom anymore.
For a second, with the sound of chalk against the board and students whispering around you, Jay looked strangely hollow.
And somehow that unsettled you more than the app had.
The gymnasium smelled like rubber flooring, dust, and cold air drifting in through the high windows near the ceiling.
Late afternoon sunlight spilled across the indoor track in long golden bars, catching against floating particles of chalk and sand every time someone landed too hard in the pit. The echo of sneakers squeaking against the floor mixed with whistles, coach instructions, and distant laughter from another sports team practicing nearby.
track practice at Seorin High was always loud.
Especially with Sunghoon around.
Even across the gym, people noticed him automatically, the school’s golden athlete, relaxed confidence radiating off him effortlessly while he stretched near the mats with the boys from another event group. Teachers liked him, students admired him, and somehow he still acted completely normal about it.
Meanwhile, you stood near the sandpit fixing the sleeves of your uniform while the coach called your name.
“Your turn.”
You inhaled once before stepping onto the runway and the gym quieted slightly, not fully, but enough.
You rolled your shoulders back, feeling the familiar tension settle into your legs before sprinting forward. The world narrowed instantly into rhythm: footsteps against the floor, breath sharp in your lungs, the board approaching faster and faster…
Jump.
For one suspended second, your body cut cleanly through the air.
Then impact.
Sand exploded softly around you as you landed deep into the pit.
A whistle sounded immediately.
“Good!” the coach called out. “Very good!”
You pushed yourself upright, brushing sand from your legs while a few teammates clapped lightly nearby.
“That’s your best this month,” the coach added, visibly pleased now. “Again like that during competition.”
You smiled slightly, still catching your breath as you stepped out of the pit.
And then it was Jake’s turn.
Jake stood near the starting line adjusting his sleeves nervously. Even in sportswear, he somehow looked unfairly good, dark hair messy from practice, broad shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his training shirt.
But unlike Sunghoon’s natural athletic confidence, Jake carried his skill carefully, almost timidly. Like he was afraid of taking up too much space despite being talented enough to deserve all the attention anyway.
You crouched automatically near the sandpit, straightening the landing area with the rake while glancing up at him.
Jake met your eyes briefly.
You smiled slightly.
“You got this.”
It was quiet. Almost lost beneath the noise of the gym.
But his expression softened immediately anyway.
Like those three words alone steadied him for half a second.
He nodded once.
Then ran. His form started perfectly, fast, smooth, controlled.
The coach even straightened slightly, watching with interest.
But near the en,
Jake hesitated. tiny. Barely visible.
Still enough to ruin the rhythm completely.
His takeoff faltered awkwardly, landing shorter than it should’ve.
The whistle this time sounded disappointed.
Jake stepped out of the sandpit immediately, breathing unevenly.
The coach sighed quietly under her breath. “He flies on the mat but always struggles in the sandpit.”
A few students nearby exchanged looks.
“Jake,” the coach called sharply.
He straightened instantly. “Yes, coach.”
“Come here.”
Jake walked over obediently, shoulders already tense before she even spoke.
The coach crossed her arms. “Was getting disqualified last year really that big of a deal?”
Jake lowered his gaze immediately. “…I’m sorry.”
“Sorry my ass,” she snapped.
The gym quieted slightly around them.
“You couldn’t even get a proper jump-off in competition this year.” Her voice hardened further. “If you keep this up, you’ll really get the yips.”
Jake stayed silent.
“Get a hold of yourself,” she continued. “Go back to the starting line.”
Jake bowed quickly. “Yes, coach.”
Then immediately jogged back without arguing once.
Something tightened painfully in your chest watching him.
Because despite how tall he was, how handsome, how effortlessly cool everyone thought he looked, moments like this revealed the awkwardness underneath. The nervousness. The way criticism stayed on him longer than it should.
You moved quickly after him, catching up while he stretched near the line again.
“You look like you’re about to be executed,” you muttered lightly.
Jake let out a weak laugh through his nose, still staring down at his shoes. “Maybe I am.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I literally embarrassed myself in front of everyone.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it keeps happening.”
You stretched beside him casually, pretending not to notice how frustrated he looked.
Then you nudged his shoulder lightly.
“Okay,” you said seriously. “Professional advice.”
Jake finally glanced at you properly.
And immediately, his full attention settled there.
Respectful. Focused. Like every word you said mattered more than the coach’s.
It was almost unfair sometimes, the way he listened to you.
You held back a smile. “Stop thinking.”
“That’s horribke advice.”
“No, listen.” You pointed toward the sandpit. “You do this thing where you panic right before jumping and suddenly act like your legs forgot basic physics.”
Jake looked offended. “I do not.”
“erm you absolutely do.”
He sighed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.
You mimicked him dramatically. “‘Oh no… what if I fail… what if everyone hates me…’”
Jake laughed despite himself now, shoulders loosening slightly. “I don’t sound like that.”
“You do.”
He shook his head, but the tension in him had already eased.
Then softer, you added:
“You’re good, Jake.” That made him go still for half a second. “You know that, right?”
His eyes flicked toward yours again.
And there it was, that look he always got around you. Quiet. Attentive. Warm in a way that felt almost unbearably sincere.
“…Okay,” he said quietly.
You smiled. “Good. Now go before coach kills you.”
Your pride overflowed as you looked at him. Jake huffed a laugh, then nodded once.
And when he jogged back toward the starting line this time, his shoulders looked just a little lighter than before.
Inside the coach’s office you smelled the coffee, old paperwork, and sports disinfectant.
Outside, the gymnasium was still loud with practice, whistles echoing through the walls, sneakers screeching against polished floors,but inside the office, everything felt strangely small and quiet.
You sat in the chair across from the coach’s desk, still slightly sweaty from training, fingers absentmindedly picking at the loose thread of your sleeve while she flipped through a folder.
She didn’t say anything immediately.
Which already felt suspicious because Your coach was not the silent type.
Finally, she looked up. “Are you taking drugs?”
You blinked. “…What?”
“Drugs,” she repeated calmly. “Anything performance-enhancing.”.
You straight end instantly. “no?”
“Hormone shots?”
“No!”
“Birth control?”
“What?!”
“Painkillers?”
You stared at her in disbelief now, heat rushing straight into your face.
“No! Why are you asking me that?”
Your stomach dropped abruptly. Someone accused you. That had to be it.
Your mind spiraled instantly—had another coach said something? Had someone reported you? Was it because of your jump earlier?
“I swear I’m not doping,” you said quickly, defensive now. “You can test me or whatever…”
The coach suddenly leaned back in her chair.
And smiled.
A slow, amused smile.
Then casually, like she wasn’t about to alter your entire life, she said:
“The national reserve team called.”
Your brain completely stalled.
“…What?”
“They called this morning,” she repeated. “They’re interested in you.”
For a second, you just stared at her. Then—
“YOU SHOULD’VE JUST STARTED WITH THAT!”
Your voice practically exploded through the office.
The coach winced immediately. “Jesus Christ.”
“Oh my God, wait, seriously? Seriously seriously?!”
“Yes, seriously.”
You shot upright from the chair so fast it nearly tipped backward.
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
You looked seconds away from passing out. The coach snorted quietly at your expression before her tone shifted back into something stricter.
“Don’t celebrate too early.”
You immediately straightened. “Yes, coach.”
“From now on, you’re in special training.”
Your smile faltered slightly.
“Even weekends,” she added mercilessly.
“…Weekends too?”
“You wanna join the reserve team or not?”
“Yes.”
“Then you train.”
She pointed a pen toward you. “You need to improve before you officially join so I don’t look bad.”
You laughed breathlessly, still too overwhelmed to process any of this properly. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.”
And maybe it was the adrenaline, or the exhaustion, or the fact that your entire future had just shifted in the span of thirty seconds, but before thinking, you suddenly rushed around the desk and threw your arms around her.
The coach froze in horror. “Absolutely not.”
You laughed into her shoulder. “Coach—”
“Gross. Get off me.”
She physically shoved you backward by the forehead while trying not to laugh herself.
“You’re sweating all over me. Disgusting.”
You stumbled back into your chair grinning uncontrollably.
The coach shook her head, muttering under her breath before adding casually:
“Poor you, though.”
You frowned slightly. “Why?”
“No more weekend dates.”
Your heartbeat skipped instantly.
“Or,” she continued with a smirk, “bring Jake and train with him before he really gets the yips.”
Your smile disappeared completely.
“…Coach.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“So you knew we were…”
The coach scoffed loudly. “How could I not know? Goodness.”
Heat rushed violently into your face.
“You’re both terrible at hiding it.”
“We are not.”
“You practically orbit each other.”
You opened your mouth.
Closed it.
The coach leaned back in her chair, deeply entertained now. “That boy looks at you like a rescued puppy every five seconds,” she said dryly. “I figured it out months ago.”
You buried your face in your hands instantly. “Oh my god.”
“And don’t even get me started on the way he listens to you during practice.” She shook her head. “One compliment from you and suddenly he remembers how to function.”
You groaned miserably while she laughed under her breath. But underneath the embarrassment, excitement still buzzed violently in your chest.
National reserve team.
Everything was changing.
And somehow, outside that office door, Seorin High continued on like normal, completely unaware that the future had already begun shifting beneath your feet.
The locker room was nearly empty by the time you finished changing.
Most of the athletes had already left, their voices fading further and further down the hallway until only distant echoes remained. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead while you stood in front of the mirror tying your hair back again for no reason other than nervous excitement.
You couldn’t stop smiling.
Every few seconds, the memory replayed in your head again.
The national reserve team called. Even now it sounded unreal.
You pressed both hands against your cheeks, laughing quietly to yourself before immediately rehearsing again under your breath.
“Jake, I made the national team.”
No. Too stiff.
You tried again while stuffing your uniform into your bag.
“Guess what happened.” Too dramatic.
You groaned softly, then leaned against the lockers with a smile you physically couldn’t get rid of.
Maybe you’d just tell him immediately, no buildup. No pretending to be calm.
Because honestly, there was no point trying to act composed around Jake anyway. He always saw through you faster than anyone else.
Outside, the sky had already darkened fully by the time you finally left the gym building. The air was colder now, carrying that crisp nighttime feeling that settled over Seorin High after practices ended. Streetlights glowed softly against the pavement, illuminating empty sports fields and quiet campus paths.
And there he was.
Jake sat near the entrance steps waiting for you, gym bag beside him, elbows resting loosely on his knees. He looked tired from practice, hair slightly damp, hoodie sleeves pushed up carelessly, but the moment he spotted you, his entire expression changed instantly.
Like the night itself brightened. He stood up immediately. And you ran to him before thinking.
Jake barely had time to react before you crashed into him, laughing breathlessly, and he caught you automatically with both arms around your waist.
“Whoa—”
He stumbled back slightly from the force before laughing too, warm and surprised.
“What happened to you?” he asked, smiling already just because you were.
You pulled back enough to look at him properly, hands still gripping his sleeves.
“I made it.”
Jake blinked once.
“The national reserve team.”
Silence.
Then his eyes widened so suddenly it almost startled you.
“Oh my God.”
You laughed immediately at his expression.
“Oh my God, you made it??” His entire face lit up. Not polite excitement. Not performative congratulations but real joy, pure and immediate, like your happiness had become his automatically.
“Seriously?!” he asked again, almost disbelieving. “You actually made it?”
You nodded so hard your neck hurt.
Jake let out a breathless laugh and pulled you into another hug immediately, squeezing you tight enough to nearly lift you off the ground.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said instantly and the words came out so naturally.
And when he looked at you again afterward, his eyes were shining with the kind of admiration he never even tried to hide around you.
“You’re insane,” he said, smiling so hard now it became impossible not to mirror it. “I knew you could do it.”
You groaned dramatically. “Coach almost gave me a heart attack first.”
Jake laughed softly. “That sounds like her.”
Then without thinking much about it, he reached down and took your hand. And together, you started walking toward the bus stop under the glow of streetlights and quiet nighttime traffic.
The city felt calmer after practice hours. Students were disappearing home one by one, convenience stores glowing warmly at street corners while buses sighed to stops in bursts of light and sound. By the time you both sat near the back of the bus, exhaustion had finally started settling into your muscles properly.
Jake sat beside you, one arm resting loosely against the window while your hands stayed linked between you, still warm.
“I still can’t believe it,” he admitted quietly, glancing at you again like he needed to double-check you hadn’t made it up. “National reserve team…”
You smiled tiredly. “Me neither.”
Then, after a second: “Oh. Also.”
Jake looked over immediately.
“Coach knows about us.”
His expression empties completely.
“…What?”
You laughed nervously. “Apparently she figured it out months ago.”
Jake stared at you in horror. “She knows we’re dating?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me this now?”
“How was i supposed to know?!”
Jake dropped his head back against the seat dramatically. “Oh my God.”
You laughed harder now.
“I’m serious,” he groaned, covering part of his face with one hand. “I’m already on her bad side.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She literally told me I had the yips today.”
“That’s because you do panic.”
Jake pointed accusingly. “This is not helping.”
You laughed again while he stared at the bus ceiling like his life was ending.
“I’m so screwed,” he muttered miserably.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“She thinks I’m mentally weak and dating her best athlete.”
“That’s not—”
“She’s gonna make me run until I die.”
Despite the panic in his voice, his fingers still tightened gently around yours while he spoke.
Still holding on.
And beneath the dim lights of the moving bus, with the city passing quietly outside the windows, the future suddenly felt terrifyingly near, but for this moment at least, Jake’s happiess for you outweighed everything else.
By the time you got home, the apartment was completely silent.
Not peaceful silent, more like empty silent.
You slipped your shoes off near the entrance and let your gym bag fall onto the floor with a tired sigh before collapsing onto the couch. Your muscles still ached pleasantly from practice, but beneath the exhaustion, excitement kept bubbling back up every few seconds.
National reserve team.
Even now it sounded unreal.
You grabbed your phone immediately and opened your messages to text your aunt.
you : auntie i made the the national team! they called today!
You hit send before throwing your head back against the couch cushions dramatically.
That’s when you noticed it. 7 missed calls. From Jay.
Your brows furrowed instantly.
“When did he call me this much…?” you thought.
You hadn’t even felt your phone vibrate during practice. You were just about to call him back when your phone buzzed again.
Your aunt.
Aunt : congratulations!
Aunt : i’m in duty again so i won’t be home.
Aunt : my credit card is on the table if you need.
Your smile softened slightly. Then faded a little.
You stared at the messages longer than necessary. The apartment suddenly felt bigger again. Quieter. Too quiet.
Ever since moving in with your aunt, it had always been like this, brief texts, late shifts, empty evenings, microwave dinners eaten alone while the TV played in the background just to make noise. And let’s not even talk about the nightmares.
You sighed softly, tossing your phone onto your stomach before staring up at the ceiling.
Then suddenly suddenly you grabbed it again.
You : you up for chicken?
You barely had time to lock your phone before the typing bubble appeared.
Of course.
Jake.
About forty minutes later, Jake sat cross-legged across from you at the tiny floor table in your living room, both of you surrounded by greasy takeout boxes and crushed napkins.
The apartment smelled overwhelmingly like fried chicken now.
Jake took another huge bite, cheeks full, eyes widening immediately.
“This is so good,” he mumbled through food.
You laughed. “Eat first, speak later.”
“No seriously,” he insisted, still chewing. “It really helps. Thank you, y/n. Really”
You grinned and dramatically slapped your aunt’s credit card against your forehead.
“Thank my aunt.”
Jake snorted softly.
“If I ever see your aunt,” he said seriously, “I’ll definitely thank her. For real.”
You laughed again and reached for your phone instinctively.
“I should take a picture of you right now,” you said. “You look insane.”
Jake looked up in betrayal while still chewing. “Don’t.”
You were already lifting your phone anyway when something clicked in your memory. “Oh.”
Jake swallowed. “What?”
“I forgot I had missed calls from Jay.”
Jake frowned slightly. “Why?”
You shook your head. “I don’t know.”
Then you pressed call. The ringing lasted longer than expected. Once. Twice. Three times. Then finally—
Click.
“Jay?” you said immediately. “Hey, you called me a bunch, what’s up? I was at practice, sorry.”
Silence. Static crackled faintly through the speaker.
Then Jay’s voice came through. Wrong. Distant. Hollow somehow.
“…You called me first.”
You frowned immediately. “Huh? Did I?”
More static.
“Hey, speak up,” you said, sitting up straighter now. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”
there was a pause. Then quietly he said,“You’re… not coming to my party.”
Your mouth opened slightly.
You glanced at Jake instinctively before answering.
“Oh. Right.” You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “Sorry. I just found out I have to train this weekend.”
The line cut.
You blinked.
“…What the fuck?”
Jake looked up immediately. “Did he just hang up?” you asked.
You called him instantly. This time, the automated voice answered immediately.
This phone is turned off. Please leave a message after the beep.
You slowly lowered the phone. “I think Jay’s upset with me.”
Jake frowned slightly. “But… how did he even know you weren’t going?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Because even he had only found out tonight.
You looked toward Jake apologetically. “Sorry, by the way. I forgot to tell you earlier.”
Jake smiled softly almost immediately. “It’s okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged lightly. “I’ll let it slide because your training sounds terrifying.”
You laughed quietly. Then after a second you asked.
“…Are you still going to Jay’s party?”
Jake tilted his head slightly. And immediately caught the tone in your voice.
Your expression changed instantly. “Wait, no. That’s not why I asked.”
Jake’s smile widened. “You think I’m gonna get stolen by Na-ri?”
“I do not.”
“You totally do.”
“She literally talks about your outfits like she’s reviewing fashion week.”
Jake burst out laughing.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You are a little.”
“I’m literally not.”
Jake leaned back against the couch cushions, grinning now. “Don’t worry.”
You crossed your arms dramatically. “I’m not worried.”
“Mhm.”
You grabbed a napkin and threw it at him.
Jake laughed harder. Then suddenly you sighed dramatically. “Maybe I should ask coach to postpone training.”
Jake paused. Then very slowly an idea crossed his face.
“Oh.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What?”
Without answering, he suddenly stood up and reached for the empty chicken carton beside the table.
“Jake.”
He tore off a clean piece of cardboard carefully.
“What are you doing?” Instead of answering, he grabbed a pen from your table and started writing something down.
You leaned forward slightly. “What are you writing?”
He shielded it immediately with his hand. “Wait.”
Then he took out his phone. Your eyes widened in realization.
“No way.”
Jake tried not to smile as he positioned the phone camera toward himself.
On the cardboard, you caught a glimpse of his name. And his birthdate.
You immediately started laughing. “Jake.”
Completely unserious now, he looked into the camera and said: “Please let y/n’s training be canceled this weekend.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing?”
“Well,” he replied simply, “it gave Jay a perfect score, so might as well try.”
You burst into giggles as he angled the camera toward you too. “Jake—”
“Please let y/n’s training be canceled this weekend,” he repeated more seriously.
You stood up laughing and grabbed his ear lightly, trying to pull him away from the camera while he kept talking anyway.
“Please let y/n’s training be canceled this weekend—”
“You actually believe this, dummy?”
Jake grinned helplessly while you laughed harder.
“Sit down and eat your chicken.”
Still smiling, he finally tapped the screen.
Wish submitted.
Then he dropped back down beside you on the floor like nothing had happened and immediately grabbed another chicken wing.
The rest of the evening softened after that. You finished eating slowly, talking about school, practice, teachers, stupid classmates, Na-ri’s terrifying personality, Jay’s weird behavior, Sunghoon nearly getting mobbed by girls near the gym again.
And at some point, the conversation faded naturally into silence. Comfortable silence.
Jake leaned against the couch beside you while the TV played quietly in the background.
You turned your head toward him slightly. He was already looking at you, of course he was.
Warm eyes. Soft expression. Entire attention fixed on you like always. Like a dog hopelessly devoted to one person in a crowded room.
You smiled faintly. Jake smiled back.
Then slowly, naturally, he leaned closer and caught your lips in a kiss.
Greasy chicken fingers and all.
You laughed quietly against his mouth before kissing him back properly, your hand slipping into under hoodie while his fingers rested gently against your waist. Jake shivered.
Jake kissed the way he did everything around you, with hesitant devotion at first, like he was afraid of wanting too much too openly.
Jake pulled back only slightly, forehead brushing yours as he laughed under his breath.
“You smell like chicken.”
You shoved his shoulder weakly. “Shut up.”
He grinned.
Then kissed you again before you could say anything else.
This time slower, deeper and messier.
The teasing faded gradually from his expression, replaced by something needier, his usual shy composure melting little by little every time you kissed him back. Jake always reacted to affection so visibly. You could feel it in the way his breathing changed, from stable to gentle gasps, in the way his fingers tightened unconsciously against you and made their way to your neck.
Your fingers slipped into his hair, soft strands curling around your hand as Jake moved closer without even realizing it, drawn toward you with that same unconscious devotion he always had. Like gravity worked differently around you.
The couch creaked quietly when he leaned over you slightly, his breath uneven now between kisses.
“You’re really happy tonight,” he murmured softly.
“I wonder why.”
Jake smiled against your mouth. Then kissed you harder.
Not rough, Jake never really was, but suddenly full of all the things he usually kept tucked away beneath awkward smiles and lowered eyes. Wanting. Needing. The overwhelming softness he carried for you everywhere he went.
Your fingers brushed lightly against the side of his neck, and Jake actually shivered a little beneath your touch before hiding his face briefly near your shoulder with a quiet embarrassed laugh.
“You’re so unfair,” he muttered.
You smiled lazily. “How?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
The warmth in your chest deepened at the honesty of it. You grabbed him by the collar, touching your lips to his again. The couch dipped beneath his weight as he leaned closer again, one hand braced beside you while the other stayed at your waist, fingers pressing a little more firmly now through the thin fabric of your shirt. His breathing had changed completely, uneven, warmer, every inhale catching slightly whenever you touched him first.
Your fingers slipped under his hoodie, brushing against the warm skin of his hard abs and Jake let out the softest sound against your mouth before immediately hiding it by kissing you harder.
You shifted so you could sit onto his lap, almost absentmindedly, and Jake froze for half a second from the sudden closeness. The second you straddled him he let out a muffled sound.
“You’re gonna kill me someday,” he muttered breathlessly near your lips.
You laughed softly, though it came out shakier than before.
“That dramatic?”
“You have no idea.”
You took at as a cue to kiss him again, your tongue slipping in his mouth. He cursed under his breath, physically unable to breathe. His hands moved under your shirt, warm against your skin, and you felt him shiver when you rolled your hips experimentally. "God," he breathed, sounding almost pained. "We should—are we really—"
“You wanna stop?”
“‘No, no, no. i just…” he looked up at you, pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen.
"it's okay," you said softly, meaning it. "we don't have to do anything you don't want."
Jake didn’t stop you. instead, he seemed to want it even more. You wanted him so bad your whole body was trembling with the yearning of his.
His hands went to your ass, fingers finding the curve of your ass, bringing you impossibly close, guiding your movements. The pressure was divine, and the sounds you let out were out of this world.
You could feel Jake hard beneath you, pressing right where it felt so tantalizingly good, your lips found his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses, sloppy and not careful. His eyes closed and his head threw back, hands still working you against the throbbing ache in his grey sweatpants.
You moaned when the tip pressed right against your clit through the layers of clothes, overtaken by the need to be skin to skin. But you weren’t ready to let go just yet. You went faster, grinding yourself onhim until you left a trace on his sweats, wet and needy.
“Look at you. My pretty girl.” Jake said, entranced.
His fingers tangled in your hair, bringing you to his lips. He took a handful of your ass, helping you move. “Feels so good…” you said incoherently.
“I know my love, i know.” Jake groaned, extremely focused.
Jake was trying desperately not to spill in his pants like a moron, he was fighting it in his head but every drag of your cunt on his clothed cock made him tremble. “Fuck- y/n you need to … you need to stop- please.” he begged in your ear.
You stopped instantly, not questions asked. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” You asked.
Jake tried to catch his breath, eyes shut. “I’m sorry… if you kept going i was going to-“
“… Finish?”
He nodded, embarrassed.
“What’s wrong with that? I don’t see nothing wrong.” You pressed kisses on his jaw. “You wanna stop?”
Jake shook his head violently. “Do you?”
You shook it too.
Jake placed you on the couch, you wondered what he was doing until he settled on the opposite side, right between your legs.
“What-”
“Can i taste you? Will you let me?” he asked, eyes wide and glassy.
“But- you don’t have to.” You said.
"i want to." he was already kissing down your neck, hands sliding under your shirt. "let me. please."
There was something in his voice, almost pleading, that made you nod. He grinned against your skin, helping you out of your clothes with more confidence than he'd had before.The moment you were bare beneath him he just. looked, taking his time. "You're so pretty," he said, almost reverent. "Is it wrong that i thought about this many times?”
Then he was moving lower, pressing kisses down your stomach, your hip bones, the inside of your thighs. When his breath ghosted over where you needed him most you couldn't help the small sound that escaped.
"Tell me if anything's too much," he said, glancing up at you. then he lowered his mouth to you and your brain short-circuited.
He started slowly, almost curiously, like he was learning you piece by piece. His tongue moved in careful strokes, testing every reaction, discovering what made your breath hitch and your hips press helplessly against his mouth. And the second he found the rhythm that made your fingers tighten in his hair, he let out a low, satisfied hum that vibrated through you.
“Jake…” you breathed, barely louder than a whisper.
He glanced up at you through dark lashes, pupils blown wide behind slightly fogged glasses, lips shining with you. The look in his eyes nearly undid you on its own.
“Tell me,” he murmured, voice rough and wrecked already. “Tell me what feels good.”
Jake learned fast. Every gasp, every tremble, every broken sound you made, he memorized them instantly, adjusting with frightening precision. But there was nothing clinical about it. Nothing detached. This was hunger. Devotion. The kind that made him seem almost desperate to pull every sound from your throat.
When he wrapped his lips around your clit, your back arched off the bed with a sharp moan, your thighs trembling around his head.
“Fuck—” Your voice broke as he did it again, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub with the same perfect pressure. “Right there… just like that.”
A quiet groan left him at your praise, muffled against your skin. His grip tightened on your thighs as if he couldn’t get close enough.
“God,” he breathed against you, barely pulling back, his voice wrecked and breathless, “you taste so good.”
You saw your boyfriend under a brand new light, completely pussy-drunk, hungry and desperate. You had never seen something like that, so many nasty words coming out of his mouth.
He was getting lost in it now, the careful control slipping into something messier, greedier. He alternated between focused attention on your clit and broad, indulgent strokes through your folds, like he couldn't decide between making you fall apart and simply savouring you. his tongue pushed inside you and you keened, your back arching off the bed.
“Oh my God,” you gasped, your fingers tangling deeper into his hair. “Jake… your mouth—”
He moaned softly against you at the sound of his name, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. His hands tightened at your hips, grounding you, pulling you closer like he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance between you.
The praise seemed to undo him. He let out another rough sound, almost desperate, and the look he gave you from between your thighs made your breath catch. Like he was completely consumed by you.
"So wet," he murmured, almost to himself. he crooked his fingers, finding that spot inside you that made you cry out, and worked it mercilesslv while his tonaue circled vour clit. the dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building so fast you couldn't catch your breath. your fingers tightened in his hair, probably painful, but he just groaned and doubled his efforts.
“Jake, I’m—”
“I know baby i know.” he whispered instantly, like he could feel it before you even said the words. “I’ve got you.”
The way he said it shattered whatever composure you had left. When the wave finally crashed over you, it left you trembling, your vision blurred at the edges as his name fell from your lips in broken fragments. He stayed with you through every second of it, patient despite the desperation written all over him, like your pleasure mattered more than his own breathing.
Only when you tried weakly to pull away did he finally lift his head, though the sound he made was almost a protest.
“Please,” he breathed, forehead resting against your thigh for a second as he tried to steady himself. “Just… one more.”
Jake moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and he didn't let up. he worked you through it with devastating patience, his tongue lapping up everything you gave him like he was starving for it.
"Jake," you gasped, trying to push at his head. "too much-"
But he just whined-actually whined-and gripped your thighs tighter, keeping them spread.
"Please," he mumbled against your pussy, his words muffled and desperate. "Please, just one more. need to feel you come again. please."
"I can't—" but your protest died as he sealed his lips around your clit again, sucking gently, his fingers still working inside you.
The overstimulation was almost painful but it was already shifting into something else, something that had you gasping and arching into his mouth instead of away from it.
He was making sounds now, desperate, needy whimpers and moans that vibrated against you. He was rutting against the mattress, you realised dimly, seeking friction while he lost himself in eating you out. His hair was a mess from your fingers, and he looked absolutely wrecked.
"So good," he whined between licks. "Tastes so good. Could do this forever. Please let me… fuck need to make you come again-"
He was babbling now, drunk on you, his movements getting messier and more desperate. His tongue worked your clit in frantic circles while his fingers curled inside you, and the pleasure was building again impossibly fast. You were so sensitive that every touch felt electric, overwhelming.
“That's it," he gasped, feeling you start to tighten around his fingers. "yeah, give it to me.”
Your second orgasm hit even harder than the first, ripping through you with an intensity that had you crying out his name, your thighs clamping around his head. Jake moaned like he was the one coming, his hips jerking against the mattress as he worked you through it, tongue lapping up everything, fingers gentling but not stopping until you were actually sobbing from oversensitivity.
Only then did he pull back, and when he finally lifted his head he looked completely gone. His face was flushed and wet, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his lips swollen and red. he looked drunk on you, his eyes unfocused and dark.
"Fuck," he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "you're so hot when you come. the sounds you make… I love you.”
You pulled him up into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he groaned into your mouth.
synopsis: A simple evening with your best friend turns into something more.
contains: best friends to lovers, kissing, fingering, cum eating(?), piv, unprotected sex, finishing inside, pet names, praises, love confession, after care.
It all started as friends. You were inseparable since high school; sharing lunch, walking home, copying notes, and having sleepovers. It wasn't malicious for both of you, thinking it's not impossible to have a friendship like you and Riki have.
It was night, you two decided to have a drink since the midterm's over. You've been doing this together for years, it's your usual routine after school. He was sitting next to you, thumbs tracing circles on your knuckles, gaze locked into yours while you talked to him. You're used to this. You know him for too long to memorize his traits; listening intently, attention focused on you, his soft touches that you found comforting.
Yet this time is different. He was leaning closer, lips brushing on your pulse point, hands interlacing yours as he pinned them down on the mattress. You froze from the sudden pleasure he holds. He slowly sucked your skin, nibbling it gently before biting it hard enough to leave a mark. He did it a few times, each time turning you on more than you expected.
He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving as he looks at you with desire. Before you can react, his lips pressed on yours, fingers threading through your hair, tilting your head up as he pushed his tongue inside.
Your body melted instantly, lips parting to kiss him back. Without breaking the kiss, he shifted his weight on top of you, pressing you deeper into the bed. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping it firmly as he rocked his hips against yours. The feeling of his body against yours was new and intoxicating, causing you to moan into his mouth.
He swallowed your moan, one hand sliding up your shirt to squeeze your breast over your bra. His other hand went lower, unbuttoning your jeans. He broke the kiss to trail kisses down your neck, biting and sucking as he went. "Lift up," You lifted your hips instinctively, allowing him to pull your jeans and underwear down in one swift motion. He tossed them aside carelessly before kissing you again deeply. His fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing gently at first before increasing the pressure and speed based on your reactions.
He inserted two fingers inside you, curling them upward while his thumb pressed against your clit. Your back arched off the bed, and he smiled against your lips. "Shh, just let go," he whispered, adding a third finger. Your walls clamped around his fingers, and he felt you getting closer. "That's it... let me feel..."
His fingers pumped relentlessly, hitting that sensitive spot inside you over and over while his thumb worked tight circles on your clit. The coil in your belly snapped, your body trembling violently as you came hard around his fingers. He guided you through it, slowing his movements but not stopping, drinking in your moans. He pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth to taste you.
"Fuck, you taste good," he groaned, sucking his fingers clean. He kissed you harshly, pushing his tongue deep into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him. His hands went back to your thighs, spreading them wider apart as he positioned himself between them.
He rubbed the tip of his cock against your slit, teasing you slowly. "Been wanting this for so long," he breathed against your lips, pressing the head against your entrance. "So fucking long." He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size. Your walls clenched tightly around him, and he let out a low groan.
He leaned down to kiss you deeply as his hips started moving, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. Each movement was calculated to hit deep inside you, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit with perfect pressure. "Wrap your legs around me," he commanded softly, and you obeyed immediately. He went deeper, hitting that sweet spot that made your toes curl.
He increased his pace gradually, his hips snapping against yours in steady, deliberate thrusts. His hands gripped your thighs tightly as he watched your body respond to his movements—the way your breasts bounced with each push, the way your lips parted to let out soft moans.
"You're taking me so well," he praised breathlessly, his angle shifting slightly to grind against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. The pleasure was overwhelming, blurring the lines between your long-standing friendship and this newfound intimacy. He leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking harshly while his hips maintained their relentless rhythm.
You gasped at the new angle, his length battering against your sweet spot. “Ki… Feels so good,” You whimpered out softly, your arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close.
"I know, baby, I know," he cooed softly against your skin, his hips snapping harder to hit that exact spot repeatedly. He loved hearing you whimper his name like that. He buried his face in your neck, sucking another mark right over your pulse point as his arm hooked under your knee to push your leg higher, opening you up completely to him.
His thrusts became slower but deeper, each one drawing a shiver from your body. His hand came up to cradle your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip as he watched you through half-lidded eyes. "Look at me," he whispered, his voice rough but tender.
You locked eyes with him, and suddenly it wasn't just about the physical anymore.
The eye contact made everything feel raw and intimate, every thrust carrying words they hadn't spoken aloud. He captured your lips in a tender kiss, his pace never faltering but somehow becoming more affectionate. "I love you," he breathed against your mouth, the admission slipping out naturally as if it had always been there between them. "I've loved you for years."
Tears welled up in your eyes at his confession, and you kissed him back fiercely, pouring all your unspoken feelings into it. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him even closer as if trying to merge your souls. "I love you too," you whispered back, your voice breaking slightly. "Always have."
His eyes widened, then softened into something warm and vulnerable—a look you'd never seen on him before. His thrusts slowed to lazy, drawn-out rolls of his hips, savoring every moment. The hand on your face moved to your hair, fingers threading through the strands gently.
"We were stupid for waiting this long," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. He captured your lips in a kiss that was less about lust and more about pure devotion, his hips moving in slow, deep circles that made your whole body tremble. The intimacy was overwhelming, your heart pounding in sync with his. "Let me make you feel good," he whispered softly.
He reached down between you, his thumb finding your clit again while he adjusted his angle. You gasped sharply, your walls fluttering around him. His pace picked up gradually, determined to make you come again before he did. He could feel his own climax building but pushed it back, focused entirely on you.
"Come for me, sweetheart. Let me know when you get there," he murmured against your lips, his thumb rubbing faster, applying perfect pressure. He could feel your inner walls starting to clamp around him, your breath hitching. "That's it... let me feel you." The stimulation pushed you right over the edge. Your body bowed off the bed, a broken cry of his name tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed into you. Your walls clenched rhythmically around his cock, pulsing violently as you rode out the intense waves of pleasure. He guided you through it, whispering soft praises against your temple. "So beautiful... you're doing so good."
Your orgasm triggered his own release. He buried himself deep inside you with a groan, his body shaking as he came hard, filling you with his warmth. He kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans as he rode out his climax, his hands gentle and caring even in the midst of intense pleasure.
As the last shivers of pleasure subsided, he stayed inside you, kissed you deeply and thoroughly, like he was pouring all his unsaid emotions into it. His hands roamed your body gently, not with hunger now, but with affection and something softer. "I love you,"
"I love you too," you whispered back, your fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You felt him softening inside you but he made no move to pull out yet. Instead, he just held you close, his weight supported on his forearms so he didn't crush you. The moment felt fragile, as if you spoke too loudly it might break.
He carefully shifted to the side, slipping out of you before pulling you into his arms immediately, tucking your head under his chin. He pressed soft kisses against your hairline, his hands rubbing soothing circles over your back. The silence between you was comfortable, heavy with the realization that nothing would ever be the same again. "We're okay?" he murmured softly. "We're more than okay," you whispered, shifting so you could look up at him. His eyes were so open, so unguarded. You traced his jaw gently. "You don't... regret this, do you?"
"God, no," he answered immediately, pressing a kiss to your fingers. "I regret every second we waited. Not this. Never this."
"Good," you smiled softly, snuggling back down against his chest. "Because I don't think I could handle you regretting making love to me." You blushed slightly, realizing how serious the words were. "I mean... you know. Having sex with me."
He chuckled softly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. "Making love," he corrected gently, tilting your chin up to press a soft kiss to your lips. "And I could never regret anything about you. Not a single thing." He wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you like you were something precious.
You nuzzled into his touch, your body molding against his. You'd always fit like this—like two pieces of the same puzzle. But now, knowing what you knew, every touch felt different. Every sigh. Every laugh. Like you were finally seeing him the way you were always meant to. As the night wore on, he found himself unable to stop touching you. His hands roamed your body reverently, like he was trying to memorize every curve, every freckle. He kissed you slowly, deeply, like he had all the time in the world and nothing else mattered.
💭 hard thought... about how much Riki loves it when you suck him off.
꒰ n. riki x fem!reader ꒱ 𖢖 warnings: smut! mdni, softdom!riki, oral sex (m. rec), handjob, slight praise, overstimulation, pet names, hair pulling, deepthroat, cumshoots, cumeating 𖢖 word count: 2k
wen’s note: dont mind me, just me going feral over his kiss tattoo yamyamyam lol
He loves it—more than he’d care to admit—but you know it, and it fills every inch of you with arousal.
You know he loves it and enjoys it because of the way he simply lets you do it, completely yielding to your rather submissive position, yet still holding plenty of power. The little details drive you wild; knowing exactly what and how he likes it. It turns you on to give him pleasure.
You study and memorize his reactions, not just for the sake of pleasure, even though it’s something you already know, even though he tries—sexily yet pathetically, and without success— to keep his composure, you adore watching him slowly fall apart, his skin shivering as your lips trail down his abdomen, agonizingly slow, teasing him further with the obvious frustration and desperation written all over him.
When his cock is exposed and you want to tease him by kissing and licking his abs, you simply take his manhood lightly in your hand, teasing it just enough to build even more tension in him, because nothing compares to his frustrated expression—his furrowed brow, the veins in his hands and arms visible and palpable, his lower lip red from biting it hard, and that certain pleading look in his eyes... But, just as it is now, where you haven’t taken off his underwear, you gently grind his noticeable erection with one hand, while with your other hand, you trace the path your lips and tongue take until they reach the elastic of his boxers.
At this point, Riki places his hands on your head; in their weight, you can feel his desperation. You look up at him and notice his ragged breathing, the desire and gentle arrogance on his attractive face, as he has you there, submissively on your knees before him, about to please him completely.
Your hand stops stroking his cock through the fabric, and now your throat presses against his erection while your chin rests on his abdomen and you smile broadly and mischievously.
Riki knows you’re doing all this to tease him, to make him even more tense, and you’ve achieved your goal—after all, the grip on your hair gently tightens and caresses it with a certain desperation. He can’t stand it a second longer; he wants the warmth of your mouth on his cock, satisfying him.
He licks his lips, and almost purring, his voice slightly whiny but deep and throaty, he encourages you.
“Come on, baby, put it in your pretty mouth, please.”
His voice and gentle plea only make you even hornier, your core throbbing with desire and lust. It’s simply an act that you both enjoy immensely.
Your attention returns to his arousal, and you don’t waste a second pulling down his underwear, finally freeing his hard cock, which springs out and gently brushes against his stomach attractively. You swallow hard, already tasting and feeling his texture in your mouth.
Riki groans, takes a deep breath, and his grip on your hair grows even tighter. You know he’s trying to act tough, but he’d soon be whimpering at your touch. You gaze at his rigid member, slightly flushed even without any stimulation, the vein popping across his erect length… and then, you gaze at him, waiting for you. Both of your pulses quicken, and once again, without wasting any time, your hand wraps around his girth.
However, before you begin... you indulge in one of your favorite activities: making him suffer a little longer, prolonging his pleasure, overwhelming him with foreplay. You push his cock aside so your face and lips can focus on his highly sensitive skin, which reacts immediately as you plant sensual, tempting kisses on his pelvis, his attractive, defined V-line, his soft, freshly shaved pubic area—kissing right on that daring tattoo of a red-lipstick-kiss that fits perfectly against the outline of your lips— while you try to make eye contact, but he breaks it, overwhelmed and aroused as he moans and throws his head back. His muscles tense, quiver, and his body vibrates to the rhythm of his soft, breathy gasps. You’re torturing him with sizzling kindness, with your perverse, sweet, seductive games.
But he’s not the only one suffering, because no matter how much you enjoy teasing him, the situation is pleasantly complicated for you, since there you are, incredibly turned on, on your knees before him, your panties wet, your femininity—every part of you—yearning intensely to be touched by him… but the satisfaction of sucking Riki off is a very good reward, it makes up for everything.
Finally, you lick his entire rigid length, from base to tip. Riki groans, feeling a rush of intense sensations wash over him, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and the strongest tension returns to him. He watches you do it again, satisfying himself with the sweet yet dirty image of you stimulating his cock.
His precum begins to leak from his tip, and you find it somehow both tender and hot—knowing just how desperate he is, him and every inch of his cock in your hand, at your disposal.
You let out a little giggle at his heavy panting; you’re genuinely amused, turned on, all at once, while he struggles with each of his deepest desires—to stay calm, to be there for you, and not to shove his cock roughly into your mouth to fuck it all the way in.
You begin to stimulate him with your hands while your tongue lubricates and boldly traces his cock, which throbs vigorously at the touch of your tongue. Riki moans, drawing him closer and closer to an overwhelming ecstasy, gently teasing his impending orgasm.
Your tongue teases his highly sensitive glans, circling it gently and provocatively. Riki has no idea how much longer he can last, while you squirm in your spot, feeling faintly weak with your panties soaked through.
But it’s so fun to watch him lose control of himself that you pull your mouth away from his erection and start stroking his cock, one hand pumping his stiffness, getting used to the friction of his soft, rough texture, while the other plays with and holds his testicles. You know that poor Riki is so aroused, on the verge of coming, but somehow he’s holding back.
Riki gets frustrated, thinking that with your tongue on the tip, you’d start sucking him off, but you simply pull away to stroke his dick, so he curses under his breath and asks you, once again, in his seductively husky voice, almost at his limit:
“Oh! F-fuck, yeah... please, please, baby, suck my cock, put it in your mouth...pl—”
You decide not to be so mean and obey him right away. He sighs, gasping, heavily and breathlessly. Finally, your lips encircle his thickness; his cock meets the softness and warmth of the inside of your mouth. His throbbing manhood fills you completely, his skin brushing against the inside of your cheeks, his glans teasing your uvula. You know this is exactly where you both want to be.
Riki deftly gathers a handful of your hair into a loose ponytail while one of your hands holds the base of his cock and the other rests on his thigh.
You look him in the eyes as you take his cock into your mouth and begin to suck him, gently bobbing up and down his shaft, hollowing out your cheeks to feel every throbbing vein. Riki shifts his hips and delicately guides and pushes your head. It doesn’t take long for him to start panting with pleasure, and suddenly the act becomes dirtier, messier, more intimate. The obscene sound of your drooling mouth, gagging subtly and stimulating his cock and his moans fill the room. Your nipples and skin bristle inevitably… and you think it might be possible to bring yourself to orgasm just by squeezing your thighs together and just keep sucking him off slowly.
But so far, you’ve been taking it at your own pace, taking in as much of his length as you can, just a little more than half of his cock, alternating with the stroking of your hands when your jaw gets tired. But he’s impatient, the dirty idea just fills his mind, so once again he asks:
“Please, baby, let me fuck your throat, baby, okay?”
You pull his cock out of your mouth and, looking him submissively in the eyes, you nod. It will bring mutual pleasure to both of you.
You steel yourself mentally, take a deep breath, and take his cock back into your mouth. This time, Riki pushes deeper and deeper, gently.
“There you go, princess, take it, take it, I know you can—”
Your eyes well up immediately, the tickling sensation in your nose becomes intense, his glans teases your throat, until part of his cock slides inside it, but Riki doesn’t stop pushing you and doesn’t let up until you’ve taken every inch of him, until your nose brushes against his pubis and your nails dig into his thighs, leaving you breathless and helpless, drooling and desperate.
Riki growls intensely as he feels his cock trapped in the tightness of your throat and could stay like that, if he didn’t know you’re struggling a bit to adjust, so he pushes you again with gentle force so you can breathe.
“Good girl, good, you did very well, princess. One more time. Can you do it?”
Your eyes are teary, your face is slightly flushed, your heart is pounding, you’ve made a mess on the floor and at the corners of your lips, his fluids and your saliva dripping pornographically, there’s just something about the thin string of saliva that stretches from the tip of his flushed, glistening cock to your lips.... but you nod again.
This time you want to last longer for him, to satisfy him. So you take every inch of him again, whimpering and staring intently into his eyes, hoping he’ll pick up on the signal in your helpless, tearful face—which he does instantly. Riki begins to gently thrust into your throat, this time without holding back his cries of pleasure, without prolonging his orgasm.
The sounds grow more obscene; your throat is being used, filled with a massive intruder that desperately brings you pleasure but takes your breath away and tires your jaw. You cry out even louder, your nails digging into his thighs, but Riki is just in heaven right now.
“Oh, yeah. Fuck, you’re doing so well. Taking me so well, princess. Yes, yes. I’m gonna cum in your pretty mou—shit!”
He whimpers desperately as you feel his penis twitch inside you. Riki pulls your hair, roughly sliding his cock out of you, then quickly grabs the base of his dick and gently rubs his glans against your lips while you’re still gasping for air.
Riki admires the beautiful mess he’s made on your face, but he still pushes and urges you on for one last thing, tugging your hair back to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
“Open wide for me, baby.”
You feel your body burning, your cheeks hot and damp, but you obey him, understanding perfectly what he wants, so you stick out your rosy tongue, ready to receive his load.
Riki roughly strokes his pulsating shaft, filled with all his pent-up tension, letting out a muffled moan as his long-awaited orgasm finally spills out with force. His restless cock rests on your tongue as he finally comes, spurting hot, pearly-white semen, a few drops decorating your lips and the space between your mouth and nose.
A hot, beautiful mess.
Both of you are breathless, satisfied—you still hungry for more—but you smile at him anyway, licking your lips, tasting and swallowing every drop of him, genuinely blissful.
Riki tries to catch his breath as well, his cock going limp in the aftermath of such an intense, satisfying orgasm. Nevertheless, in his characteristic husky voice, he reassures you just how much he liked it.
“Good. You did so well for me. Are you okay? God, I loved it, my baby doll.”
includes :: [ 2.8k ] enemy!nct dream x reader ( mostly gender neutral ). enemies with the dreamies but their voice cracks when insulting you because they can’t handle how much they want you. aka a bunch of cliche enemies to lovers plots ft nct dream. possessiveness yessir. mild profanity. obliviousness. they’re so in love it hurts. enemies to lovers but not really done right yknow ( they’re not always enemies ). y/n is ? easily irritated and annoyed idk why i didn’t write them as a badass so. all mistakes are unintentional !!!!
authors note, enemies to lovers oh how i love you my dearest. also why are these so long 😭 smth came over me when writing chenle’s ( the first one i wrote ) and suddenly they all needed to be around four hundred words. please ignore the horrible writing im already crying about it
and here is my new years present to you all <3 i wish i could’ve gotten it out sooner, but ! please enjoy lovelies 💚
haechan’s topic of insult was worse than if he actually insulted you. he flirted. flirted so much until you snapped, until you spun around and slapped him ( it happened once. he still didn’t shut up ). he was so, so irritating. it had you clenching your hands into fists, it had you biting your tongue to stop from screaming, hitting, and yelling.
“hi pretty.” haechan slid up next to you, leaning against the locker next to yours, and you wanted to immediately swing on him. his voice was the only thing he needed to annoy you to the point where it drove you mad.
“no,” was all you managed to say in return. and he cocked his head to the side in faux obliviousness.
“no?” he repeated innocently, trailing after you as you attempted to speed walk away. “what ever do you mean by ‘no’, sweetheart?”
you grit your teeth. “i mean no, by go away, leave me alone, fuck off — whatever it takes for you to get the hint.” your fingers flex at your side as you pick up your pace slightly.
he calmly kept up with you. “all worked up for me?” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you closer, your side pressing against his as haechan ducked his head slightly, breath panning over your ear. “don’t go making me feel special,” he whispered.
when trying to shift out of his grip fails, you send him a second sharp glare. “i despise everything about you,” you seethed, only earning a grin from him, and that infuriated you further.
“that’s my role, sweetheart,” haechan spoke happily, still bouncing alone with your long strides. he sent smiles to whoever gave the two of you curious looks as you walked through the halls.
when you finally managed to scramble out of his grip he just slid his hands in his pockets, kept up pace right beside you. walking in silence until you broke it by turning to him.
“why are you still next to me??” exasperated and annoyed, peeved further at the way his smile only grew.
“i like being next to you,” he answered smoothly. and there was something underlining his tone, but you were too irked to bother analyzing it.
“i don’t like being next to you,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “fuck off, haechan.”
“i like the way you say my name,” haechan hummed, “say it again.”
that earned him an aggravated sound.
cute.
chenle, the loudest, most irritating and grating voice you’ve ever heard. his laugh is worse. squeakier, higher pitched. louder. like that’s even possible. his smile turns into a smirk when seeing you, and your stare turns into a glare. he’s prone to pestering you, as if he couldn’t get enough of your snappy ‘shut up’s and snarky retorts.
“you look like a mess,” he hummed as he fell into step beside you, noting your ruffled look. as if you had just gotten out of a fight.
“you’d know, wouldn’t you?” you responded smoothly, not bothering to glance his way.
he grinned. “well i see you every day —” he cut himself off with a laugh when you finally sent him a sharp glare. “you’re so sensitive,” he said, amusement still tracing his tone. and when you didn’t respond he let out a small breath. “so who was the lucky person that got to throw a few punches at your face?”
“no one,” you bit, tensing slightly. “leave it alone.”
chenle’s expression dropped just slightly, and he quickly stopped you from walking by reaching out and grasping your forearm. “who was it?” he asked again, something flicking in his gaze.
“no one,” you repeated, pulling away from his grip. “there was no one.”
chenle stepped closer into your space, and you stepped back. it continued until he cornered you, your back hitting a wall, and his hands were placed beside your head. he ducked down slightly until your faces were at eye level. “bullshit.” he whispered, voice low. lower than you were used to. eyes darker than you’ve ever seen. it made your skin itch at the unfamiliarity.
his hand moved and gripped your chin, turning your head to the side as his other hand came up to brush his fingers over your cheek. and you winced slightly. “bruise forming here,” he said, and his hand traveled to your temple, grazing there. “redness.” and he reached to grab your wrist, tugging it up. “blood,” he eyed the faint red staining your knuckles.
you went quiet, slinking down slightly as you glared up at chenle, lips pressing together to form a thin, unimpressed line. you tugged your wrist back, letting it fall back to your side as he easily let it go.
chenle leaned closer until you were practically breathing the same air. his eyes scanned your face, and he whispered out a singular word. “who.”
jisung was the quiet type. quiet until you get him worked up, or until he’s in proximity of ten feet of you. because then, he’ll start jabbing insults your way. nothing out of the blue, instead whispered retorts when he took notice of your mistakes. a quiet, mocking scoff that no one else hears.
you tried to not let it bother you. and often, it didn’t. but it still gave you that feeling; hyper awareness of every movement you made, wondering if jisung would somehow find flaw in that. the tension whenever you noticed he was in the same room, because you could feel his eyes boring into you, trying so hard to find something to poke fun about.
“you’re always staring,” you spoke one day with a random burst of confidence, turning in your seat to face jisung. he blinked, taken off guard. “why?”
he blinked again, fingers fidgeting against the desk. “i’m not,” he denied, lips downturning slightly, the start of a frown.
“you are,” you disagree, wondering if you’d ever had a conversation that’s this civil with him . . . ever.
“i’m not,” jisung repeated, gaze flicking to the side as if he could find a way out of this conversation. which confused you, because he never backed down from making even the tiniest comment about the way you’re sitting — your posture, anything.
you pressed your lips together, and conflict flickered through jisung’s eyes. but it was gone before you could mention it. and he opened his mouth. “maybe i am,” he agreed slowly. “but only because it’s perplexing to me how you’re still in this class. aren’t you failing?”
and you made the same caught off guard expression that he had earlier. you knew the chance of respectful conversation wasn’t possible for jisung, but part of you had let yourself hope for a moment. “i’m not,” you repeated his earlier statement.
the start of an amused smirk twitched at his lips, and he quickly schooled his expression. “your last test score doesn’t prove that.”
“so you were looking,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow, expression expectant.
jisung once again found himself going quiet at your words. he felt his ears burning in embarrassment, sputtering out a response. “a giant red 50 at the top of the page is hard to miss.” he tried defending himself.
“but you were looking.” you almost found yourself grinning.
“i was not —”
jeno loved to try and be your typical bad boy. the ones who wore sleeveless shirts just to show off, the casual heartbreaker without even breaking many hearts. he was all smirks and testing your patience. he was particularly fond of you — or bothering you, to be more frank. but one can say you were fond of bothering him too. you both had been butting heads for god knows long, matched spitfire insults, biting words, and dagger sharp glares.
you could go every day without ever seeing lee jeno again, but here he was, as always, to ruin your day. always up in your face, always looking at you. hands shoved in his pockets as he stayed quiet. knowing that just his presence near you would be enough.
it always was.
because you always reeled on him, always spun on your heel to make some pissed off retort even despite the fact that he hadn’t even done anything. “can you go away?” you threw your hands up slightly, disgruntled.
“something bothering you?” jeno questioned, voice pitched just enough to be teasing, leaning in closer.
“you,” your eyes narrowed as you jabbed your pointer finger at his chest. he glanced down at the motion, and leaned closer.
“am i? i haven’t even done anything.” always playing dumb. it was on repeat in your routine, endlessly.
you pressed your lips into a thin line, hand falling back to your side, and he looked at your hand once more before back up to your face. always in your face. and it took half a second to realize how close he had actually leaned in. if he leaned in an inch closer —
but you didn’t back down. a simmering tension settling in the space between you and him. a piercing silence ringing in your ears, unwavering under his gaze.
his hand came up, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head up and face him better. you still held. at least until his gaze flicked down to your lips, up again, and down once more. you pulled away with a ( flustered ) huff, trying to calm down your racing thoughts and the fluttering in your stomach, your focus flicked over jeno’s features, annoyance piqued when all you saw was that irritatingly neutral smirk on his face.
you hated yourself for getting affected. it was jeno. what else could you expect?
renjun was so easily annoyed. every little thing you did pissed him off to his wits end. you always had to make everything so much harder than it needed to be. and every time you acted like you did nothing wrong. especially when the world hated you both and ended up in pairs for projects.
“why do you always have to make things so difficult??” renjun half exclaimed, letting out a groan and wanting nothing more than to knock his head against the lab table. he reached out to snatch the object in your hand away, earning a small annoyed sound from you, and he could care less.
“read the instructions!” you responded, shoving the paper in his face, and he snatched that from your hands as well, scanning down the words.
“we’re supposed to pour in the — before the —” renjun stumbled over his words, completely bewildered that you could get it so wrong. he set the instructions down on the table too calmly for his expression. he sucked in a small breath, before moving and practically forcing you out of your spot in front of the materials. “just let me do it,” he mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, letting out a sharp sigh.
an annoyed sound came from you, but you gave up anyway. you always did. not that you wanted to leech off him to get a good grade, simply that after he got irritated, renjun wouldn’t let you touch the project anymore.
you slouched forward, elbow on the table as you rested your chin in your palm, lips pursing in frustration as you honed your attention on his hands, silently watching him work, trying to permeate the air with your annoyance.
which he obviously picked up on, eyes flicking up to you. “you’re so difficult,” he muttered after a silent moment, his grip on a pencil tightening for a split second. and there was something behind his words. something you couldn’t identify, but the most you knew he wanted to yell at you again.
you made a face. “you’re so difficult,” you repeated the words back to him, earning another quick exhale. it almost sounded regretfully amused.
renjun rolled his eyes at your words despite, but he moved his hands, sliding the instructions over to you. an offer. silent, grudging, but an offer despite.
he didn’t say anything else, just continued working. hands diligent, not looking up at you anymore.
jaemin had a painful tendency to care for you when he shouldn’t. every time you found yourself in trouble, he would be there, tugging you away as you tried pulling out of his grip, cursing at him. he’d shoot back, calling you an idiot for getting caught up in the situation.
“i’m not drunk,” you argued, trying to push away. he had you held close as he maneuvered through the crowd, gaze hard.
“maybe not, but you’re obviously not thinking straight if you’re letting creeps get that close to you,” jaemin snapped in return, effectively shutting you up. for a solid minute.
“how were they creeps?” you scoffed, still trying to get out of his grasp.
jaemin only held onto you tighter. “they were all over you.” and he pulled you outside, pausing to let his gaze travel your body, making sure you were alright. “creeps,” he muttered in one final confirmation that he wasn’t letting you go back.
you went quiet again, finally letting yourself get pulled along, arriving at his car, and he opened the door to his passenger seat, urging you to sit.
“i‘m taking you home,” he answered your question before you asked.
“what?” your eyes widened slightly. “no — let me go back!” you complained, watching him blink at you before he let out a sigh and pushed you to the seat. you sat down despite yourself, watching as he leaned in to buckle you. “jaemin —”
he sent you a small look that once again got you to shut up, and you slouched in your seat slightly, grumbling. he moved to the driver's side and climbed in, the silence stiff as he started up the vehicle, a low hum from the engine filling the space.
you watched the scenery change as he drove. you didn’t bother asking how he knew the directions to where you lived. and just because you couldn’t help it, you spoke again. “why do you always butt in like this?” he glanced at you before back at the road. “you’re always coming in whenever just to annoy me —” you continued on your small complaint of how he always seems to be there.
the longer your words went on, the tenser he got. his grip on the steering wheel was too tight to mean nothing. “yeah, doll. just to annoy you,” he muttered, exhaling slowly. you were so insufferable.
mark was impossible. impossible to work with, impossible to handle, impossible to tolerate. still, you made sure it didn’t get to you. telling yourself he couldn’t be this stupid, that he was just . . . no, actually, he’s stupid. and always, as if the universe was having fun torturing you, your gaze found his, his laugh always seemed extra loud when you were around. his smile was almost endearingly dorky. almost.
your name was called from behind you, and turning, you wanted to run as soon as mark entered your field of vision. your body itching to move out of his proximity, fingers habitually tapping against the strap of your bag. but you paused anyway, waiting for him to catch up.
he did, speaking again when he was closer. “so, there’s this thing —” his mouth moved faster than his thoughts, hand gesturing slightly as he rambled on about something random. you weren’t particularly paying attention. nor did you want to.
because every time mark was around you, your thoughts got distracted on the diminutive things about him that bothered you, your eyes got focused on looking everywhere but him. he was so irritating.
“you’re impossible,” you muttered. you said the same thing about him every day, every time he tried talking to you.
“then you love impossible things i guess.” you had turned your head just quick enough to catch the growing smile on his face. your eyes widened slightly and you couldn’t miss the way your heart stuttered slightly.
you finally managed to shove out some words. “shut up.” granted, there was a short pause to them, but you’re sure he didn’t notice.
his grin only grew, a sparkle in his eye at successfully teasing you. “you’re always so mean to me, angel,” mark hummed.
you rolled your eyes and gripped the strap of your back tighter. what could you say to that? i’m mean to you because i can’t stop thinking about you and it pisses me off?
and you paused that your thoughts. you hated that. it wasn’t true. it didn’t make sense. he was impossible. not that you hated him, but you disliked him. he was annoying. loud, too much to handle. common brown eyes, irritating laugh.
still you couldn’t help yourself when turning your head to glance at him. your fingers tapping, your breath caught. oh shit.
mark met your gaze. innocent, confused as he scanned your half panicked expression. “everything okay?”
A/N: I was requested a V x JK x reader! If anyone wants to see anything specific, inbox is currently open!
WC: 1630+
Warnings: MDNI 18+, oral (f rec.), light dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, I feel like I could say light enemies to lovers, but that could be debatable.
Life with Taehyung is a life with Jungkook; if you saw one, you were bound to see the other. They did everything together.
The two gentlemen started around the same time, bringing a breath of fresh air to the company. And catching the eyes of almost everyone. It didn't help that they both were extremely nice, greeting everyone each day with a charming smile. It became no surprise to you when both men and women whispered, how attractive they were, how nice, how funny. The list could go on and on.
But you couldn't see the big deal. You can admit, they were extremely attractive, and they were definitely nice, but you never believed in mixing personal with business. You've seen how office romances could go; it's not pretty. So, you chose to keep your distance.
Well, you tried.
But it seemed as if they were everywhere.
Both of them, heads of their own departments, needed to work with yours for the newest project you were leading. And you felt overwhelmed.
Not only was this a significant project for you, but it was also the first one you were given to lead. This was major for your career, and you wanted everything to go perfectly. You couldn't get distracted when Taehyung would lean over your shoulder closely to look at the same paperwork as you, or when Jungkook's hand found your hip as he passed by with a little, "excuse me."
And it only got worse as time went on. I mean, maybe it was all in your head, but you could have sworn you saw Jungkook smirk softly when you two kept accidentally blocking the way you wanted to walk. A step to the right, and he's going left, both of you mumbling a 'sorry' before doing it again when you went left.
-
To say you were relieved when the project was over, a full success, might I add, you were relieved. A weight lifted from your shoulders as the company decided to throw a party for the completion of the project, which would definitely benefit the advancement of your company. And who were you to deny it?
It's how you found yourself, nursing a small cup that people think was a drink since it was after hours, but was actually just water. You watched from the sidelines as coworkers mingled, your boss laughing with other executives joyously, you didn't even know you gained company until Taehyung's arm brushed yours.
Your head whipped to the right, your eyes meeting dark brown ones as Taehyung flashed you a charming smile. "Congratulations," he hummed, and you did your best to control your blush. You were never that good at accepting compliments.
"Mm, it's not all me, it was a team effort-" you mumured and jumped when Jungkook clinked his cup against yours in a cheers.
"Then, congrats to us, we make a great team," Jungkook smirked, shooting you a wink before taking a sip of his drink. You were trapped between them, their height making you feel like they towered over you.
"We should celebrate." Taehyung's words bring your attention back to him; he's dressed in a brown suit, a gold watch on his wrist, and he matches Jungkook's smirk. A grin that seems to tell you, 'we know something you don't.'
Your eyes narrow, your eyebrow raising as you feel a shiver run down your spine, a warmth beginning to spread through your body, slowly. "We are celebrating," you nod your head to the office party around you. Noting that some people were already noticing the men talking to you. "I bet there are a lot of people who would be happy to have a drink with you," you hum, and their eyes follow yours to a few women across the room.
"And you wouldn't?"
Your eyes catch Jungkook's, immediately noticing the challenge in them. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to. His eyes were dark, demanding your full attention.
You had rules. No mixing personal and business.
-
"Spread those legs more f'me, pretty."
You barely have time to process Taehyung's orders before he's wrestling your plush thighs wider, exposing your pretty pussy to them as you gasp. You're sitting on the edge of Taehyung's desk, your dress bunched up to your hips, your panties missing, and your pussy's quivering, leaking so sinfully it smears your inner thighs.
"Fuck- you're so wet f'us." Taehyung's pupils are blown wide, zeroed in on your pretty pussy. He's kneeling between your legs, so close to your drooling cunt, it makes you blush harder.
"T-Tae," your jaw drops, words choking off into a moan as Taehyung's fingers glide up your slick folds, gathering your sweet juices and bringing them to his mouth. He keeps eye contact with you when he sucks his fingers clean, his eyes rolling back as he groans.
"Mmph - I knew you'd taste sweet," Taehyung groans, and his fingers dip between your thighs again. He's gathering your new wave of arousal onto his fingers, dragging it up and teasing your clit wet just to make you whine. He pulls his fingers away, a dark grin on his face as he looks to his right, "Have a taste."
You're panting, your thighs shaking already, and your eyes half-lidded as Jungkook steps closer. Taehyung's fingers are soaked with your essence and pointed up to Jungkook suggestively. It makes your mind whirl, eyes widening when Jungkook easily takes Taehyung's fingers into his mouth, licking them clean as you watch.
The sight fuels the warmth gathering in your tummy, and you whimper when Jungkook groans, letting Taehyung's fingers go with a wet 'plop.' He turns to you, licking his lips, "You feeling left out, baby? Want a taste?" And then he's on you. Jungkook's hand wraps around your throat and pulls you up to meet his lips with a kiss.
Jungkook doesn't waste time to deepen it, his tongue slipping into your mouth and moving over yours - the taste of you still on him and making both of you moan in the kiss.
He kisses you like he owns you. A hand on, firm on your throat, the other cradling the back of your head to keep you in place. His mouth is swallowing all your pretty little noises, making you forget you are all still very much at work. A company party is only happening a floor below.
And then Taehyung digs his fingers into your thighs, hooking them over his broad shoulders as he dives tongue-first into your slobbering cunt. Jungkook swallows your whine, your fingers curling into his suit jacket as your other hand goes to the back of Taehyung's head.
Jungkook keeps kissing you, taking your breath away as you make out. Making your head spin, your hips bucking up to Taehyung's eager mouth. It's too much - they're too much.
Taehyung groans, "Yeah, tug harder, baby." Your fingers are pulling his hair as he flattens his tongue on your glistening slit, licking a broad stroke before wrapping his lips around your pretty clit, sucking hard.
"Oh my god!" You shriek, Jungkook's lips trail down your neck, and Taehyung's messily lapping your cunt like a man starved. The warmth in your stomach grows hotter with each of their movements. "W-wait I- oh my god, oh my god, yes, yes!"
Taehyung's fingers easily slip inside you, curling deeply and pumping in and out of you as his tongue flicks your clit to each thrust. Your pussy squelches, your slick dripping heavily and soaking his hand to his wrist as Jungkook pulls your dress down to expose your breasts.
"She's squeezing my fingers so tightly," Taehyung groans, adding a third finger, stuffing you full as his tongue licks your inner thigh. Your legs spasm, your wet heat clenching his fingers, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.
"Yeah? You should see her face," Jungkook huffs a laugh, easily unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. He's leaning down, watching your eyes cross, your jaw hanging open as you increase your moans, whining a mix of 'yes' and their names. "She looks like a wet dream." Jungkook bends his head lower, kissing down the valley of your breasts.
"A wet dream, huh?" Taehyung grunts, and his fingers curl right onto the sweet spot inside of you. Your body twitches, and both men smirk. Jungkook takes your breast in his hand, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh as his mouth wraps around the nipple, his tongue flicks over the peak, sucking while Taehyung pumps faster, hitting your g-spot over and over again. "She's close-"
Taehyung doesn't even get to finish speaking before your body tenses, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you let out a high-pitched wail. "I- oh- cum-cumming!" Your legs shake and jitter, your hips bucking up to meet Taehyung's fingers. You're spiraling, eyes rolling to the back of your head as a flood of sweet juices gushes out and soaks Taehyung's fingers. He easily replaces his fingers with his tongue - his mouth wide open to lick every drop that weeps from your pretty cunt.
When your fingers finally relax from Taehyung's hair and Jungkook's jacket. Taehyung pulls back with a smug grin. The lower half of his face is absolutely covered in your sweet juices, his eyes swirling with hunger still. "You made such a mess of me, Pretty." Taehyung licks his lips, and both men enjoy the way your body still twitches in the after shocks.
And when you blink up at them, breathless, dewy-eyed with tears. They smirk mischievously, Jungkook huffing a laugh when your thighs refuse to stop quivering. "Next time," his voice is soft as he trails his fingers over your twitching muscles. "Let's see if you can take both of us at the same time, yeah?"
A/N: This was fun - maybe I'll make a bonus one, see if you can take both at the same time-
SYNOPSIS > just why did your dad have to leave you in charge of the soccer team? you had zero knowledge about the damn sport. you weren't even getting paid, your dad just explained that this was part of the experience of life. things couldn't get any worse when the team’s striker, ni-ki, had also found out about it. he now hates you for it and was blaming your dad. how will this go?
GENRE > enemies to lovers au + soccer players (idk what to call this genre)
FEATURING > yunah from illit, an oc called mae (she's back)
SCHEDULE > not consistent! will update whenever
TAGLIST > send an ask or if you're shy, just fill up this google form!
You've never had a positive male figure in your life, so when Mark Lee shows up with his unexpected silliness, curiosity and care, you're suspicious that it's all an act and it's just a matter of time he'll finally show his true colours.
Until he shows you that he is genuinely a good guy.
➳ Characters: neighbour!Mark x female reader/you
➳ Genre: romance, comedy, opposites attract, sunshine x sunshine protector, badass female lead x loser boy energy, manhater fl x best boy ml
➳ Words: 10.3k
➳ Warning: mentions of food, drinks, misogyny, men being jerks, lack of positive male figures in reader's life including a demanding and unsupportive father
➳ A/N: Dedicated to @dat-town with all my love ❤️ Because you're the Johnny to my Mark haha #4yearagegapmeansnothingtous
Also, I recommend you listen to 'Little Miss' by GIRLSET for the vibes!
The only reason you said yes to this blind date was because your mother specifically warned you not to intimidate the guy she would want to set you up with.
Which meant that you had successfully intimated some guys before, enough that she would hear back from the indignant mothers of the other douchebags you had been set up with. Also, if being honest and being yourself meant that guys were scared of you, then so be it. You needed no one’s approval to live your life the way you wanted, much less a man’s.
It’s not that you hated all men. You knew there were nice ones out there. Like your primary school headteacher, your next door neighbour when you had been living in a flatshare during university, the elderly men selling your favourite mandu, the owner of your favourite second-hand bookshop and so on…
However, all the men in your life were just disappointments. Your grandfather had never cared about you, not even before he had become a little too reliant on alcohol (your other grandfather had passed away when you had been little, so you couldn’t fault him). One of your uncles was someone who would never admit that they were wrong even when they were and completely controlled your aunt whereas the other one wouldn’t lift a finger to help out at home and as soon as he got home, he turned on the TV and stayed there until he fell asleep on the couch, so your aunt had to bring him food and drinks.
Let’s not talk about the worst of all: your father. The sad thing is that you used to idolise him. He was smart, hard-working, and seemed to know everything you were curious about as a child. For this reason, he had seemed so perfect, and you had wanted to be just like him. So you had followed his every word, his every command, and soon enough, you had lost yourself.
You had realised that you weren’t happy doing the things that he wanted, not like they were ever enough. It was like a zero sum game: you could never win no matter how much you tried. Even if you did just what he wanted - you chose the university he wanted, the major he wanted, the career he wanted -, he wasn’t satisfied. There was always something he could nitpick, and worst of all, you had started noticing how he had always put women down. He thought of his female engineer colleagues as less than him, always complained about your mother’s hobbies because he didn’t deem them sophisticated enough, and he said that business in any way was not for women.
So you had disappointed him majorly when you had left engineering behind and moved abroad to study financial management at a university that you had chosen for yourself in a country that you had chosen for yourself. Guess what? You had graduated with a first-class honours degree.
On the other hand, the most important thing was that you had found yourself in the process. Your university had offered free counselling and you had taken advantage of it, working through your past of people-pleasing, inability to say no, inability to set boundaries and holding yourself back from being yourself. Being in a foreign country on your own was challenging enough, but it was also deliberating. Away from home, you realised even more how surface-level your father’s care was, and that was the final nail in the coffin.
When you had moved back to Korea, you had also started looking for a new place because you wanted to move out of your parents’ house to start living on your own as soon as possible. You had enough money because you had worked a couple of years as an engineer and worked throughout your second degree, so you didn’t need to ask your parents for money. Of course, your father had disapproved of it, but you couldn’t care less. You had become a different person, a stronger, bolder, more confident person, and he wanted nothing of it.
Fine, it was his loss anyway. He could go back to idolising your sister no matter how much she fucked up because her? She was perfect. Even without straight As or a flawless track record of classroom behaviour, she had always been his favourite. That you couldn’t really compete with, and you hated how much you had let it affect you growing up; chasing a mirage in the desert, an illusion that had nothing to do with reality.
As for your mother, she tried in her own way to stay in touch with you including setting up blind dates for you. You were practically a spinster in their eyes, and she thought that she was doing something good by playing the matchmaker, but in all honesty, her efforts were futile because all the guys you had met so far were complete idiots. Cheating, lying, manipulating, two-faced jerks.
This time too, the date was a disaster. The food at the restaurant was at least good and more easily digestible than the nonsense the guy was spewing. Frankly, he resembled your father so much that you felt like trampling on his ego with your high heels. Did he really think that by criticizing your choice of profession, you would fall at his feet, pleading with him to marry you, so that you could be a housewife instead of working in finance?
“Look… As they say, time is money, and I feel like I’m nearing bankruptcy listening to your nonsense, so I suggest we both go our own ways instead of wasting our time here. You won’t change my mind about my career, you won’t change my mind about a woman’s place in the household, and you definitely won’t change my mind about you being a jerk, so…”
You shrugged at the end of your monologue, your smile so mellifluous that someone without context might think that you were actually harbouring feelings for this prick who was not only shocked but also annoyed upon hearing your words.
Ding-dong. That’s when they all show their true colours…
“You listen to me, you little-”
“Blablabla, I can’t hear you, and you can’t tell me anything I haven’t heard before, so let me just remove myself from this extremely uncomfortable and unsupportive atmosphere,” you announced as you stood up from the table and pushed your chair back.
You gave him one last death stare before turning on your heel and leaving the restaurant, his not-so-pleasant words thrown at you not reaching you anymore.
Needless to say, you weren’t really in a good mood after such a disastrous date. So the last thing you wanted was to run into your neighbour when you got home, but as you were fumbling with your keys in front of your door, the door of the flat opposite of yours flew open and a chatty male voice called out:
“Hey, yo! I finally ran into you.”
Hey, yo? What on Earth?
You cautiously turned around, your keys in your hands, ready to be faced with a typical fuckboy who felt like he could talk to women like one of his dudes, but instead, a boy who literally looked like a boy-next-door kind of guy looked back at you.
He wasn’t super tall, he wasn’t super muscular either, but he had these big doe eyes and boyish features that made it difficult to guess whether he was 16 or 26. Though judging by the fact that the landlord said that one single guy lived on this floor, he should have been over 18 to live alone.
“Hi!” You greeted him back, your voice neutral at best, but the guy either didn’t catch onto it or he was this merry-go-round even when faced with a girl who wasn’t in a good mood.
“I’ve heard that someone was moving in, but I guess we didn’t manage to catch each other before,” he chatted excitedly, but you just deadpanned as you mumbled.
“Apparently.”
An awkward silence filled the air which was usually the cue for the other person to whimper away, but this boy looked way too casual and friendly for his own good. Plus, he beat you to it, so instead of you excusing yourself to actually enter your flat, he introduced himself as Mark Lee.
So you had no choice but to introduce yourself too, solely out of politeness.
“Uhm, so, what do you do for a living?” He asked as if you had all the time in the world when you just wanted this day to end.
On the other hand, this Mark Lee guy didn’t look like he meant harm, so you unlocked your jaw and dropped your shoulders (you were usually tense and cautious around new people) before you answered.
“I work in finance.”
“Wait, so you’re like a finance bro! But in a female version, of course. Is there a female version to the term? Finance lady, perhaps?” He blabbered, carefree like a puppy waggling its tail.
You had to give it to him that you had never been asked the same question when people heard what field you worked in, but men didn’t usually react like this, they merely judged your choice of profession.
“I wouldn’t know. There’s only one other female employee in the finance team.”
“What? That’s not right.”
Mark looked as if you had told him that the world would end the next day. Truth to be told, it was kind of flattering that a guy could ever react like that when it came to your job and the environment you worked in. Needless to say, the only other female employee in the finance team was your manager, the one who had hired you. She had been promoted after the previous male manager had left for a different company, so she knew exactly how hard one must work in this field to be taken seriously as a woman. You were lucky that you could confide in her though.
“What about you?” You asked about his side instead of pondering over his reaction, and he immediately switched back to chatty mode.
“Oh well, I’m not really good with numbers. I’m actually a songwriter. But don’t worry, I don’t make a lot of noise at home. I have my equipment in the studio,” he explained in detail even if you didn’t ask.
When the second momentary silence fell over you, you took it upon you to break it by announcing:
“Well, it was nice meeting you, but if you excuse me, I’ll head inside now.”
“Yeah, sure. My bad,” he replied with a semi-nervous chuckle and he literally stepped back as if you were heading that way.
Instead, you turned back to your own door and let yourself in, feeling the weariness of the day taking over you as soon as you got rid of your high heels.
Ah, what a day!
It was truly astonishing how men had the audacity to make comments on a woman’s body, choice or opinion, but when women bit back, they got offended, pleaded that they were only joking or blamed women for being too emotional or uptight or perhaps being on their period.
Like that day when you went to pick up your new blanket chest from the store. Even though the order was under your name, the man at the collection point dared to ask you where your boyfriend was to help you take it home. When you proceeded to tell him that you would be fine on your own, he laughed and said that “eventually all women are broken in”.
He even dared to smirk at you as if you were ready to fall at his feet and marry him for being so witty. Instead, you picked up the box on your own and pulled your lips into a mellifluous smile as you remarked:
“Women are not horses, but how would a man like you with the brain capacity of a bathroom rug know that?”
Now, he didn’t feel like smirking anymore, but you were already out of the store by the time his comeback would have reached you. You definitely didn’t need a man’s help because though the blanket chest wasn’t that big, it weighed quite a bit, but that’s why you were exercising. Not to look good and definitely not to appeal to men, but to be able to carry everything you wanted, let that be groceries or new furniture.
Thankfully, you had a seat on the metro, so you were saved from holding the box for half an hour, but you were panting a bit by the time you reached your flat.
Obviously, Mr-eager-neighbour just had to walk out of his flat as you reached your floor.
“Oh hey, Y/N! Need some help with that?”
“What is with you men thinking that a woman can’t do this on her own?” You muttered, rolling your eyes, as you put the box on the floor in front of your door. Then, you turned towards Mark who looked back at you with his big doe eyes, ready to defend himself. Before he could do so, you continued. “I’ve brought this back on my own all the way from the store, so I think I can manage for the last few metres.”
“Oh wow, you’re strong!” He remarked in awe, but as soon as he saw your unamused expression, he explained himself. “I mean, you’re right. You were literally just three steps away from your door. I guess it just came naturally to me to offer help. Not because you couldn’t do it on your own, but in case you were struggling but didn’t want to say so yourself.”
“Oh, I will tell you if I need help. I’m not one to hold back my opinion,” you laid down your cards in case he was wondering if you were a damsel in distress.
If you genuinely needed help, you would say so without shame, without caring what others might think. You had grown a thick skin over the years, so such things didn’t make you freeze on the spot anymore, leaving you with regrets as to how else you could have handled the situation.
If Mark was like the typical example of the male species you usually encountered, he would make a comment on how you were high on your horses or how you were so brazen. Maybe he would even give you a seductive smirk, saying that he liked girls who didn’t hold back. Or he would even remark that you should know your place and this was no way you should speak to a man.
Instead, Mark looked so apologetic (like a puppy who did something wrong) that you felt bad for him for a millisecond before the walls around your heart recomposed.
“That’s absolutely fine. Honestly. Like… just be yourself, you know?” He tried to play it cool, but his wild hand gestures didn’t exactly help his awkward self. He giggled like a school girl when he realised that he had just made a fool out of himself, but then, as if lighting struck him, he snapped his fingers and asked:
“Does it mean I can also ask you for help?”
You were about to open your mouth to say something when you realised that you weren’t quite sure how to word yourself. This was not a question you had been asked. Even when you were young, your father had only asked you to help your mother (because obviously he was too mighty to help out his wife), not him. Never him. Even when he had wanted you to take after him and be an engineer, he had literally never let you see the projects he had been working on. You had never done those experiments at home together that other kids who had nothing to do with physics had done with their parents.
“I mean… sure,” you blurted out, slightly uncertain, but even that was enough to light up his whole face.
“Cool. I might ask your opinion on some songs that I’ve been working on because I need a female’s perspective on it. I’m only working with dudes, and to be honest, I don’t want my lyrics to come across negatively to the most likely female listeners that will listen to it. If that makes sense.”
Mark’s whole monologue was said in one-go, and though he was clumsily trying to get to his point, you actually appreciated his idea. Huh, a male songwriter who cares about what female listeners would feel about his lyrics? How unlikely. How revolutionary for the male species!
“Okay,” you bobbed your head, giving in.
“Thanks. That would be awesome!” Mark hollered excitedly. At times like this, it was even harder to tell just how old he was because he looked like a kid at an amusement park. “I gotta go now though. See you soon!”
He bid his goodbye with a wave of his hands and a big smile, and all you could do was to watch him go down the stairs with the most perplexed expression ever.
Just who was this guy? And what was his deal?
Surely, he would show his flaws soon. He would make those remarks, go against your opinion, try to mansplain and make you regret that you had ever allowed him to talk to you.
Surely, it will happen soon.
Mark’s personality confused the hell out of you.
You were always ready for him to drop his act, to finally act like the douchebags you had the chance to meet previously, but it never came. Instead, he just appeared more and more… innocent, if you will.
As it turned out, he was the same age as you, but he was still in awe at random things like the project you were working on at work. One time, he even showed you the picture he took of the sunset, claiming that you just had to see it because it was the prettiest sunset he had ever seen. He said it with such enthusiasm, it felt like he had just won the lottery.
Then, there was his kind heart. Even though you had been suspicious at first, the boy had literally never said anything offensive to you, had never even looked at you any differently no matter what you wore or how much make-up you put on (as neighbours, he frequently bumped into you in your PJs as you were taking out the trash or in smart casual clothes when you were going to work). He was rather clumsy and silly at times, stumbling over his words and going on whole monologues about his point instead of getting straight to it, and he got shy more often than not when you challenged him with a question or gave him one of your trademark death stares.
He was… different. For the first time in your life, you had no idea how to act around a guy because you couldn’t diss him for who he was because he was a nice guy. He didn’t even bat an eye when you vented to him about men. In fact, he even took your side! So very strange…
Also, he did end up asking you for help with a couple of songs. He said that he wanted face-to-face feedback if you were up for it and suggested coming over to his flat, but the alarms went off in your head immediately. You told him ‘absolutely not’ and asked him to choose a neutral place instead - a coffee shop or a park, for instance.
So you ended up going to a coffee shop where one of his friends allegedly worked, and sat down at a table somewhere in the back. Right away, a tall guy appeared at your table and after a few ‘hey, dude, how have you been’ questions, Mark introduced you to his friend, Johnny.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Just so you know, you’re the first girl Mark brought here, so I have a feeling you must be special,” Johnny gave you an amused smile, but your eyes immediately averted to Mark’s who wanted to hide his face behind his hands.
“Dude, don’t embarrass me like that,” he whimpered, and truth to be told, the sight was kind of funny.
And cute.
Good god, not cute.
Not… cute.
“I was just stating facts,” Johnny shrugged (though Mark couldn’t see it because he was covering his face with his hands), and gave you a knowing look before he went behind the counter to get started on your drinks.
It took Mark a few seconds to pull himself together and be able to look you in the eyes. Not that you would take it the wrong way that you were the first girl he brought here. In fact, it showed you that he wasn’t the womanizer type, and this wasn’t the place he frequently brought girls to. Not that you were on a date or anything, but it was good to know. He could get a cookie point for it on your non-existent nice guy chart.
“Sorry about that. He’s too…”
“Honest?”
Mark let out a semi-awkward giggle before he answered.
“Well… yeah.”
It was evident from the way they interacted with each other that their friendship was very brotherly. Which made you curious about how they had met because Johnny did look older than him, and they apparently didn’t work at the same place either.
So you decided to ask the boy about it and he let you know that he actually lived across the street when he was at uni. Johnny had already worked here back then, and they had become friends almost immediately.
“Sometimes I feel like he treats me as if I was his little brother. Which is funny because neither of us have any siblings,” he shared casually before asking if you had siblings.
“I have a sister, but we don’t really talk to each other when it’s not necessary. She’s always been the favourite child and I was not.”
“Oh, shoot, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. I’ve never mentioned it, and it’s not your fault that it’s the way I was brought up,” you pointed out, your voice measured.
Others’ pity didn’t help your situation, but you had learned how to be okay with that. It took you a long time, but by disappointing people around you, you actually became the happiest, most authentic version of yourself. Turns out not everyone loved you for who you really were when you finally spoke up, stood up for yourself and chased your own dreams, but that was on them, not you.
“Still. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Mark said so apologetically that coupled with his big doe eyes, you found it difficult to contain the stoic facade you usually had on.
“It’s okay, Mark. It really is,” you reassured him, your voice more gentle than ever before.
The moment was interrupted by Johnny who showed up with the drinks, his eyebrows furrowed when he caught sight of your facial expressions.
“I’m sensing a tense atmosphere here. What happened?” Johnny asked first thing first as he started serving you the drinks.
“Nothing,” you said in unison with Mark, but that just made Johnny more suspicious. He squinted his eyes as he looked between you two before turning towards you.
“Let me know if you ever need better company than Mark’s.”
“Dude!” Mark said in that boyish, whining voice of his, and for the first time that day, you found yourself smiling at their antics. That seemed to put Johnny’s mind at ease because he walked up to another table instead, a smile hiding in the corner of his lips.
As you turned back to Mark, you prompted him to show you the songs that he had prepared.
“Oh, right. The songs. Silly me. That’s what we’re here for,” he singsonged giddily before he opened his laptop and smashed his keyboard a few times a bit too enthusiastically.
You brought your own noise-cancelling headphones, so after pairing it with his device, he started playing the songs for you one by one. You listened attentively, taking a few notes in your trusty notebook, and you discussed your feedback in between songs. Mark really did appreciate your comments, and he never seemed offended by what you said. Which was a relief because you hated men who told you how you should feel.
However, at one point, you couldn’t help but chuckle and slid your headphones off because you couldn’t continue with the song.
“What is this ‘long ass ride’ part?”
“Ah well…” He let out an awkward little giggle, his hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is it bad?”
He blinked back at you with those chocolate-brown eyes of his, worried as if you were about to say that it was the worst piece of songwriting you had ever encountered in your entire life. He really did look so innocent at times.
“It was certainly… surprising,” you decided on the appropriate word before adding with a shrug. “But it’s not really a love song either way, so I guess it’s fine.”
He seemed so relieved by your comment that he gifted you with the widest, happiest smile you had seen from him, and you instinctively followed. How on Earth did this guy have this effect on you?
Either way, you weren’t here on a date, so your smiles didn’t mean anything. Even if Mark turned out to be a nice guy, it didn’t mean that you were in love with him or something. You had so many bad experiences with men around you (even without dating them) that you couldn’t just fall for a guy like him.
Interestingly so, even if you were neighbours with Mark, you didn’t usually bump into each other in the neighbourhood. Which was funny because you had a downstairs neighbour, Xiaojun, who lived together with his friend, Ten (and Ten’s three cats), and you always bumped into him when he was taking his dog for a walk. At least his dog (Bella) was pretty quiet, so her barking didn’t disturb the peace of the apartment, but you just couldn’t imagine how two guys with four pets managed to live together.
Either way, that particular Friday night, you spotted Mark sitting by himself beside the windows at the local GS25 with a steaming bowl of noodles in front of him. He seemed quite deep in thought or maybe he was in a bad mood. Either way, something in you moved at the boy’s apparent lack of spirits, and you decided to sit beside him when you were done filling up your own plastic cup with water.
“Hi Mark!” You greeted the boy as you halted beside him, but he just kept staring ahead, so you cleared your throat and repeated yourself.
He snapped his head back when he heard you, and gave you an apologetic smile.
“Oh hey, Y/N! I’m so sorry. I was totally zoning out. My bad.”
“It’s okay,” you shrugged because it was no big deal, really. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
“Not at all,” Mark replied immediately and shook his head. He even adjusted his chair, so that you could have enough space for yourself by the table even though there was already plenty to begin with.
You were never really one to comfort people, especially not men. However, Mark had been nothing but kind and supportive towards you, and you felt like fighting anyone who might have caused his smile to turn into a frown, so you couldn’t help but inquire if everything was alright.
“Ah yeah… I just…” He started cautiously, scratching the back of his neck out of nervousness. He was usually bubbly and talkative, so seeing him not just nervous but sad as well did not sit right with you. “Well, a lot of my songs were rejected at today’s meeting, and it felt… not so good. They just said that the songs wouldn’t fit the artists they wanted them for, but no constructive feedback was given. And that wasn’t so helpful, you know? Like… how else am I going to… you know… improve?”
He was trying to hide behind a nervous chuckle, but you could tell that his features were solemn instead of soft and he was clenching his jaw as well. He was so not fine despite wanting to appear fine in front of you.
“And I know it’s silly because my songs get rejected all the time because that’s how the industry works, you know? Usually, it doesn’t affect me either. But today, it just hurt,” he admitted, his voice becoming quieter and quieter by the end of his monologue.
Then, he sucked in a deep breath, and if nothing had happened, he turned his head towards you and forced a smile onto his lips.
“How about you though? I’m sure you have bigger problems than I do,” he tried to direct the conversation elsewhere as soon as the confession was out, but you didn’t have any of it.
“Mark…” You started tentatively, trying to think about your wording, so you would get the message across and he wouldn’t feel even more disheartened. “It’s okay to talk about yourself. It’s okay if something hurts you even if you usually don’t take such things to heart. But it’s not okay to belittle your own problems because you think that someone else has bigger problems. Okay? You are a completely different person and you have a completely different life. There’s no use in comparing us to one another.”
This was something that you had to learn the hard way, and you wanted nothing more than to see everyone else adopt this mindset, too. The world would be a much better place if people didn’t bring each other down but rather celebrated each other’s success. Everyone was on such different paths, there was literally no use comparing yourself to others.
You used to compare yourself to your sister as well, wondering why she was the favourite child and why you weren’t, but as years went by and you started to become more in tune with your own emotions, you realised that you were chasing a fantasy. Sisterhood should have never been about being in a race or a competition, and even if it was, being second place didn’t mean that you were a bad person. It just meant that your parents created the rules differently for your sister.
Mark’s shoulders visibly slumped in ease and he unclenched his jaw. His lips began to form a pout and he let out a sigh before he spoke up.
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I guess it’s just hard since I’m surrounded by dudes all the time. They don’t really like to talk about emotions,” he pointed out what you had already assumed, but you were glad that he drew that conclusion himself.
“That’s why you’re better than them,” you blurted out without thinking twice about it, and Mark’s face literally reddened hearing your words.
“Oh, so you think I’m not like other boys?” He teased you playfully, the dimples around his lips deepening. The sudden change in his behaviour put your mind at ease, but being called out didn’t feel so good, so you turned back to your noodles and urged the boy to do the same before his food would get cold.
While having cheap convenience store food, you talked about everything from work to hobbies, misogyny to sustainability, childhood memories to future goals. Mark was an easy person to talk to because he had something to say about everything, but you meant it in the best way possible. He wasn’t trying to mansplain anything, he was rather conversational and curious, and someone willing to share so much about his life. He never wanted to tell you what you should think even if you didn’t agree with him on something, and he was such a down-to-earth person. A guy who was down-to-earth… now that was a big thing in your eyes.
He was also really funny and had a childlike innocence to him. He also used big hand gestures and made funny noises when reacting to things. You couldn’t really put it into words, but the way he saw the world was both mature and full of that kind of curiosity that kids possessed. You had long lost that kind of curiosity in the world, in the little things in life, in the positivity hiding behind the negativity. You were usually focused on major problems like global warming and gender inequality, but he did see the good in everyday interactions and he did see the good in people. You wished that you could see the world through his eyes a bit more, too.
After talking for what felt like hours, you ended up walking home together, but before you would have opened the door to your flat, Mark called after you and thanked you for today.
“Anytime,” you responded with a smile, and you were surprised to realise that you were actually being serious.
You didn’t help Mark with his lyrics to get something in return, but the boy kept telling you that he wanted to repay you, especially after doing a couple more sessions together when you helped him finetune his words.
Obviously, Johnny was there to witness the other sessions too, and you caught him staring at you two whenever he wasn’t serving customers. Which could have been scary and outright creepy under different circumstances, but he was a nice guy, and he really acted like a big brother to Mark, so you had a feeling that he was just watching over you two. Plus, you generated some extra income for him and the coffee shop because the sessions did stretch for a couple of hours at times, so he really couldn’t complain.
At first, the boy just kept dropping things off in front of your door - such as your favourite brand of mango juice or your favourite flavour of Pepero -, then, he kept paying for your drinks at the coffee shop. Then, he ended up asking you if he could take you somewhere, but it would be a secret, so you couldn’t know beforehand where it was. When you told him that you hated surprises, he insisted that you would enjoy it.
And oh boy, was he right… Because the guy literally took you to the very same exhibition that you had wanted to attend the day later, the one about gender inequality globally and in Korea, dissecting topics like the underfunding regarding women’s healthcare research, gender pay gaps in the workplace, the freedom (or the lack thereof) of women’s clothing choices back in the day vs modern times and such. It was an exhibition put together by sociology students from two Korean universities and their partner universities in Europe, and displayed at an art gallery where mostly men’s art pieces were shown, further encouraging conversation around these issues.
“You like it?” Mark inquired tentatively when you set foot inside the art gallery (after getting lost because he was terrible with directions), and when you looked at him, he appeared genuinely nervous, biting down on his lower lip as if he was ready for a scolding.
Which, to be fair, wasn’t unwarranted coming from you, but this time, your lips curled into a smile, and your voice was free of sarcasm when you admitted:
“I love it! This is an exhibition I’ve also wanted to attend!”
“Oh my gosh, really?” Mark’s eyes widened to twice their size before he let out a joyous giggle. “Gosh, I’m so relieved. I was scared for a second when you didn’t say anything,” he confessed truthfully, his eyes twinkling with mirth. You joined in on the laughter before sharing with him that you were actually at a loss for words because you were surprised that he knew about this event in the first place.
Mark chatted your ears off about how he had come to find out about this exhibition, and what other ideas he had in mind to repay you for your help. Some were more fitting for your personality than others, and you laughed when he mentioned that it had even crossed his mind that you should have attended one of Johnny’s barista workshops because he was sure that you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the older guy if you had ended up attending it. Though Mark was more afraid of embarrassing himself in front of you (and Johnny) than you actually being there with him.
The exhibition was fascinating, but Mark’s presence did make it even better because he was his usual curious self and oftentimes asked you if you felt the same way about the experiences that were shared or admitted that he didn’t even know about such inequalities when it came to women. Most men you knew would never admit that they were in the wrong, but he was unashamed about it, and you loved that about him.
Wait, what?
Love?
No, nope… not in that way, of course. You loved that about his personality, that was a better way to put it.
After the exhibition, you headed to a coffee shop together, and as you were waiting for your drinks to arrive, you asked the question that had been on your mind for quite some time now.
“Why don’t you ask about it?”
“About what?” He asked back, his eyebrows furrowed in question. He looked genuinely perplexed, but you were more surprised by the fact that he hadn’t yet inquired about the reason behind your hatred towards men.
“About why I hate men so much,” you stated (what seemed like) the obvious, and his features softened hearing your words.
“You don’t have to tell me anything that you aren’t comfortable sharing. Besides, I’m sure you have your own reasons, I know some men can be real jerks,” he shrugged as if it was common knowledge, but yet again, you were at a loss for words because how could you object? How could you go against his words?
You simply couldn’t because he was yet again being understanding and empathetic, and given that you had not really encountered men who had admitted such things, you weren’t sure how to react. On the other hand, you were saved by the barista who showed up with your drinks, and gave you some time to think.
You decided on telling him the reason either way. About how you had not had a positive male figure growing up; about your father’s obsession with getting you into engineering and his disapproval when you had chosen to do a degree in finance; about your grandfather never really caring about you even before he became an alcoholic; about your uncles being lazy and controlling and not helping out their wives at home, even when they had kids they could have taken care of. You had talked about high school classmates who had objectified women and watched porn during breaks besides the sports field, and men during your time abroad who had looked down on you simply because you were a woman studying finance.
Mark was big on reactions, and even though he was listening attentively, he couldn’t hold himself back from saying things like “Whaaaat, that’s crazy” or “Oh my god, are you being for real? That’s insane” when you had told him what you had been through. Of course, not every single male had been a complete jackass in your life, and you made sure to point that out, but the ones who should have been role models and who should have set good examples were exactly the ones that had made you feel small, uncared for and easy to control.
Mark apologised on behalf of all the men who had wronged you before, and said that he completely understood why you acted the way you did. Then, he added that he hoped that he could set a good example, and show you that not all men were bad.
“Don’t worry. You aren’t in that category,” you eased his nerves as you turned towards him, and he gifted you with the kind of smile that also made his dimples visible.
“I’m glad then.”
So were you.
But you were equally concerned about what your feelings might have been hinting at, and you weren’t sure that you were ready to face them head-on, so you turned back to nursing your drink instead, and let the conversation steer towards a different topic.
One would think that just because you hated most men, you also hated romcoms.
However, you were actually a big fan of romantic movies, dramas and books because fictional men were way better than real ones. Fictional men couldn’t cheat on you, disrespect you or disappoint you as real men could, so what could go wrong?
That Friday too, you were binge-watching a newly dropped Netflix series when you heard muffled sounds from the corridor. You usually didn’t pay attention to such noises because you lived with others, so it was natural that they made some noise. Mark was usually quiet, but it was odd that he would talk to someone outside of his flat for more than a few minutes close to midnight.
So after you gave it a couple more minutes, you decided to look through your peephole to see what Mark was doing, and realise that he was actually not with someone, he was talking to himself.
The boy was swaying in front of his front door, dramatically clutching his chest while singing something about not remembering the numbers (what a weird thing to sing about), and you could already tell from his miniature version through the peephole that he was drunk.
You opened your door much to the boy’s surprise who almost stumbled over his own feet when he turned around to face you.
“Oh heeey theeeeere,” he singsonged giddily and hiccuped after his words.
You rolled your eyes at his antics but to be fair, you were more afraid of him falling down the stairs than him making a bigger fool out of himself.
“What are you doing out here, Mark?”
He pouted like a little child, his eyes shining dreamily, and even his cheeks were tinted pink, so there was no way you would not call the sight cute even though he had very obviously underestimated his limit and you usually didn’t condemn such behaviour.
“I forgot the numbers to my doorlock,” he whimpered, looking back at his front door with such a sad expression that you would have thought somebody died.
Oh, so those were the numbers he was singing about…
You tried to ask him if it was his birthday or his parents’ birthday or anything like that, but he said that he had tried everything that he could think of. He faintly remembered having it changed recently, but he couldn’t recall as to what the new combination was.
“Oh my god… do you think I’m going to have to sleep on the streets? Alone? In the rain?”
His voice was so desperate (yet dramatic), you had a feeling that his tipsy self actually believed it to be true. That’s when you noticed that he was already wet, tiny raindrops sitting on his pitch-black hair, and the sleeves of his puffer jacket was darker than usual.
“Stupid, stupid me… why did I change the numbers? I mean, I had to… for security reasons or whatever the doorlock company said, but argh…”
Mark continued acting like a child, complaining about his lack of memory regarding the new combination, but when he started saying that he will just sleep on the floor in the corridor, an alarm went off in your head, and you immediately said something that you would have never thought you would say to a man:
“Are you crazy? Stay at my flat instead!”
Despite his drunken state, the guy looked as shocked as his sober self would, and his eyes widened as well. Then, he drooped his head low and mumbled something akin to:
“But I don’t want you to hate me.”
“Don’t be silly! I don’t hate you, and you better believe it because I wouldn’t offer such a thing to someone I hate,” you stated matter-of-factly.
He still seemed pretty reluctant, but when you opened the door wider to let him inside, he tentatively walked in and immediately started taking off his shoes. Gosh, he had manners even when he was drunk…
You gave him a pair of unused slippers, and beckoned him inside. He looked around as if he was Alice in Wonderland while you were busy getting him some water and some towels for his hair from the bathroom. When you went back to the living room, he was sitting on your couch, looking at a framed photo of you with your peers on your graduation day abroad.
“There were so many guys in your class just like you’ve said,” he pointed out when you put the glass of water on the table in front of him. It was pretty amusing that he remembered such a small thing that you had said to him a while aho but not his new doorlock combination.
“Groupworks were pretty gruesome. None of the guys really wanted to pull their weight.”
“Ah, such a shame…” Mark noted as he put the photo back on the table. “Your parents must have been so proud,” he added as he turned towards you, but when he saw the change in your expression, he hit his forehead with his right hand. So dramatic, even when tipsy!
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I just remembered that your father didn’t approve of your studies. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s alright. My mother actually said that she was proud of me when I graduated, so there’s that,” you shared with him, and that seemed to put his mind at ease.
Instead of dissecting your graduation story, you inquired why he had been drinking so much. He said that one of his songs got an award, and he was really proud of it, but because he wasn’t the artist, he wasn’t invited to the ceremony, and only got to know about it at work, so he and his colleagues went out for some drinks to celebrate.
“I swear I started with apple juice!” He tried to save some face, but you just shook your head.
“Sure…” You replied, but there was a smile in the corner of your lips. “Now, dry your hair and drink some water!” You practically ordered him, but you didn’t want him to catch a cold. Or to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He saluted for you and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Gosh, he was really something.
However, Mark was quite childish when tipsy, and though he did gulp down the glass of water you had given him, he was fussy about the towels. He said that he wasn’t even that wet and that he was actually more sleepy than cold, but you just rolled your eyes at him as you reached for the towel.
“At least don’t wet my couch,” you reprimanded him before starting to dry his hair yourself, but you realised at the same time as him how awfully domestic this scene was because he suddenly seemed all too sober, his foggy expression replaced by a surprised one.
However, instead of making a comment on your odd behaviour, he blurted out something that no one had ever told you before.
“I’m so sorry that men have been such jerks to you. You deserve better. You’re such a wonderful person,” he confessed gently, and though it was rare that you were rendered speechless by a man’s actions, you were unable to form a response. What is more, you felt a squeezing sensation around your heart.
You were staring into each others’ eyes for what felt like an eternity before his sudden hiccups ruined the mood and you decided to drop the towel on the edge of the couch. The boy picked it up himself this time and ended up drying his hair to a pretty chaotic mess but at least it wasn’t wet anymore.
“The bathroom is to the right. If you need anything, just knock on my door. I’m a pretty light sleeper,” you told him before turning away and closing yourself in your room, your heart hammering away rapidly.
Thankfully, Mark didn’t make things awkward the next day. He profoundly apologised for his behaviour and ended up gifting you a hamper box as a token of his apology two days later with all your favourite things (which, by this point, didn’t surprise you because he was perceptive like that).
On the other hand, you weren’t sure what to do with your feelings because surely, you should have been frustrated, angry and disappointed. You never liked people who drank too much (mostly because of your grandfather), and you definitely wouldn’t let just any man sleep over at your place. However, Mark was not just any man, and somehow, his tipsy antics didn’t put you off. Rather, you found it endearing. The thought itself should have disgusted you, and you were very surprised by how you were feeling, so you tried to give yourself enough time to ponder over it.
After all, Mark was the first and only guy you let close to yourself, and he went against anything you had against men in general. He had never acted like a walking red flag, had never disrespected you (or for that matter, any women), and he had seemed so genuine, you were sure that he wasn’t just acting. He was curious and empathetic, and yes, he was a bit silly and childlike, but not in a bad way.
On the other hand, you had always been alone, and your experiences with men were rather disappointing, so you had never imagined yourself beside anyone, let alone a man. You had never liked any boy either, not as a crush, not as a boyfriend. You had been perfectly fine on your own, and even though admitting to yourself that you liked Mark was nowhere near a confession, you were kind of torn about what the next step should be. After all, just because you liked Mark didn’t mean that he liked you back even though his words and actions sometimes made you think so.
Your unsaid questions were answered when you bumped into Xiaojun one day who was taking Bella on a walk while you were walking back to your flat after work.
“Hey, Y/N!” The guy greeted you cheerily, and as he halted in front of you, Bella also followed suit and started sniffing your shoes enthusiastically.
“Hi Xiaojun!” You greeted him back before crouching down to pet his dog. Sometimes you wondered if your love for dogs replaced your love for men because you sure would have liked spending more time with dogs.
You had a little chit-chat about work and Bella before Xiaojun’s question made you freeze for a moment.
“You’re coming to Hendery’s wedding, right?”
“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows in question, sending him a deadpan look.
“Hendery and Ahyun’s wedding, you know,” he looked back at you quizzically, but that didn’t help your case one bit. You still had no idea what he was talking about. The name ‘Hendery’ rang a bell (was it one of Mark’s colleagues?), but the girl’s name… not so much.
“I don’t know whom you are talking about.”
The guy let out a surprised ‘huh’ before he asked a question that yet again made you confused.
“Mark hasn’t asked you to be his plus one yet?” He quirked an eyebrow, but you just shook your head hearing his words.
You stopped petting Bella to be able to stand up and look him in the eye for further explanation. As if hit by lighting, the guy hit his forehead with his hand before he exclaimed as if he had set something on fire:
“Oh shit… I shouldn’t have told you that. Mark asked me to keep it a secret.”
He looked genuinely remorseful, but you were more intrigued by the ‘why’ behind Mark’s actions than Xiaojun’s guilt.
“Why would he want to bring me as a plus one though?” You questioned as you laced your arms in front of your chest, becoming uneasy.
You were sure that you had not met the said Hendery or the said Ahyun, but if Mark wanted to bring you as a plus one to their wedding, he must have been serious about it. He wasn’t flimsy about these things, especially because he knew how much you hated surprises and last minute plans.
“Because he likes you,” Xiaojun shrugged as if it was common sense, but when he caught sight of your flushed cheeks and your surprised expression, he hit himself on the forehead yet again.
“Damnit, I shouldn’t have told you that either. He hasn’t told you yet how he feels, has he?” He asked for confirmation, and you shook your head in return.
He let out an aghast sigh, so loudly that even Bella perched up, wondering what her owner was so dramatic about.
“Oh no… I just ruined everything for him. He said he wants to wait until he feels like you’re ready to hear his confession because he wants to respect your feelings, and he doesn’t want to force you to reciprocate his feelings. Oh gosh! Act like you haven’t heard anything,” he frantically shook his hands in front of his chest and immediately made an excuse about having to take Bella closer to a green area because she had that pooping face on her.
Poor dog looked so confused at the mention of her name, and though you knew Xiaojun was chaotic like this, you would have never thought that you would one day get to know that Mark liked you back thanks to his loose mouth.
The remaining question was how to let Mark know about it, too.
The thought of confronting Mark about what you had heard didn’t entirely scare you. It was rather unsettling because you had no idea how to bring up the topic and also admit that you liked him back without him thinking that you were joking.
You knew that you could come off rather standoffish and stiff, and you wanted nothing else than the boy to think that you weren’t serious or worse, that you wanted to make fun of his feelings. Of course, you didn’t care about men’s feelings on the daily because if they said something rude or misogynistic, women weren’t allowed to feel hurt, but if a woman said something slightly offensive about men, they were ready to start a revolution.
However, Mark was different. You had to realise that you did care about his feelings because he deserved it. That wasn’t an easy feat when it came to you, but you genuinely cared whether your words hurt him or not, because he was so gentle and kind and honestly too good for this world. You weren’t even sure how he had ended up liking you, but if he did, who were you to question his feelings? You felt the same way, so you should have been happy.
On the other hand, you had never done anything like this before, and being sentimental wasn’t your forte either. So you decided on sleeping on it, but it seemed like someone had other plans because Mark ended up knocking on your door about an hour after your encounter with Xiaojun.
You had just finished putting in a load of laundry and were about to have some dinner when you heard the frantic knocking on the door, and instead of a busybody neighbour fussing about the upcoming residents’ meeting or an elderly lady asking you to help her cat get off a shelf (both had happened before), it was the boy with the big doe eyes who turned up on the other side of your door.
“Hey! Do you have a minute?” Mark asked, panting as if he had run up the stairs. You furrowed your eyebrows in question, but he seemed rather indignant, so it was either about something unexpected or Xiaojun had confessed everything to him and he wanted to come clean.
Either way, you weren’t one to be suspicious of his intentions. Not anymore.
“Sure,” you bobbed your head and invited him inside.
You had not done so since the day he had drunkenly sung to himself in front of his own flat after forgetting the password to his doorlock, but you deemed this matter quite urgent and personal if he came up to your door without asking about it via text beforehand.
“Thanks,” Mark let out a long sigh before he walked inside.
You closed the door behind him and turned to him, totally expecting him to already make himself comfortable on the couch or maybe by the kitchen table, but instead, he just stood there, frozen, as if his mind had drawn a blank.
“Are you okay?” You quirked an eyebrow, slightly concerned. The boy, as if woken from a stupor, started talking so fast that you could barely follow.
“Look, I know that Xiaojun has told you about Hendery and Ahyun’s wedding. I know he has spilled the beans that I wanted to ask you to be my plus one. Hendery is one of my colleagues, by the way, he is a songwriter and producer on the team, and Ahyun, you probably know her by the name ‘Little Miss’. The solo singer, you know. Hendery has contributed to a lot of her songs as did I, as you know because you helped me with some of her lyrics…”
“Mark, breathe!” You reminded him with a slightly amused smile, and though the boy let his lips curl upwards for a few seconds, his features returned to solemn afterwards.
“So anyways, he’s also told me that he’s told you that I like you, and that’s why I wanted you to come with me to the wedding. But I was hesitant, and I am still hesitant whether you like me back, and you know that I would never, ever force you to do something that you don’t want to. Let that be accompanying me to the wedding or liking me back. And I also know how much you hate men and even though I like you that doesn’t mean that you have to like me, too. But since he’s already-”
“Mark, I like you, too,” you broke his monologue, but he was so lost in his own monologue that the words just seemed to fly over his head.
“Told me about what happened, I was like, might as well let her know that it’s cool if she doesn’t like me-” This was the point Mark’s whole demeanour changed, and the first flicker of hope glinted in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Wait, did you just say you like me?” His eyes grew to twice their size, completely appalled.
It was funny how much you had agonised over you finally coming clean with your feelings towards him, and yet, all it took was a simple sentence to actually make it real.
“Yes, I did. I like you too, Mark Lee.”
Mark was frozen for a moment, then he started giggling, and then, he finished off his performance with a long sigh. He shared with you that he had been running all the way from the first floor where he had talked to Xiaojun in-person after his friend had frantically texted him regarding your encounter with him.
“I could guess that much,” you blurted out with a smile, and that was enough to ease the tension in the air. The boy let out a chuckle before his lips finally pulled into a boyish grin.
“So are we good then?”
“We’re good,” you hummed. “And if the date is okay with me, I’ll be happy to be your plus one for the wedding,” you added on a second note, and he seemed like he had just won the lottery.
“Oh gosh, I can’t believe it! I’m so happy. I thought Xiaojun had blown up everything for me,” he admitted candidly, and you couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up in your throat.
“I mean, if he hadn’t told me that you like me, I might not have been sure enough to bring it up myself, so I think we should thank him one day,” you pointed out and even though you knew that Mark felt the same way, he went on a whole monologue about how long he had known that he liked you (since you had comforted him in the GS25 after his lyrics had been rejected without constructive feedback), and how he had even changed his doorlock’s password to the day that you two had met, but completely forgot about it when drunk, but was too ashamed to say anything about it afterwards, so he was glad that you didn’t ask about it.
“That’s so corny… but it’s also very much something that you would do,” you admitted before you asked the boy if he wanted to have some dinner with you.
Needless to say, he was more than happy to join you, and he even said that it was the best day of his life.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine. Let me know what you think. I'm always happy to hear your feedback. 😊
Header taken from this Mark vlog.
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➳ NCT masterlist
I started writing this story before Mark's announcement to leave NCT, so I will put the story into the NCT masterlist for the time being. However, I might move it to the 'Other' masterlist that contains soloists' stories and Kdrama fics in the future, so just a heads-up!
summary: while everyone around you is getting married, you're left behind—no ring, no lover, just silence waiting at home. but one night, your boss, mr. jeong, makes an unexpected proposal: "marry me." and suddenly, your quiet world begins to burn.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), strong language, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy mention (later), minor angst, lots of kissing, crying, soft husband jaehyun, tooth-rotting fluff, crying-in-the-club type of love.
wc: 19,7K
notes: i’m obsessed with jaehyun as a boss, boyfriend, hubby, and daddy lmao. man’s got range 😮💨💍🖤
i swear i try to keep it short but my brain goes rogue every time 😭 like girl be fr, when’s the day i finally drop a short fic??? bye lmao 💀
you’re twenty-nine, and the number feels heavier than you thought it would. not because it’s old—not really—but because thirty is close. and thirty means expectations. by now, you were supposed to have it all figured out. at least, that’s what they say. your friends certainly make it seem that way with their photo-perfect marriages, toddlers learning to walk, houses in peaceful neighborhoods. meanwhile, you still live in a quiet apartment with plants you often forget to water and a fridge that holds more takeout containers than groceries.
you work at an architecture firm—clean lines, big ideas, and even bigger egos. the kind of place where late nights are common and recognition is rare. you’ve built a name for yourself, though. you lead your team well, your ideas consistently get approved, and your work ethic has never been in question. the other women whisper that you’re just trying to impress the boss, that your dedication is nothing but a strategic flirtation. they don't know that your passion isn’t about pleasing anyone but yourself. well, mostly. maybe part of you does want to be seen. to be acknowledged by him.
jeong jaehyun.
your department lead. two years younger than you, but somehow always carrying himself like he’s lived three lives already. he doesn’t talk much. doesn’t engage in the small talk that fills the office kitchen or the empty flattery some of your coworkers throw his way. he’s serious, focused, almost too calm. the kind of man who’s unreadable, and yet somehow always watching. you’re not close, not really, but there’s a quiet understanding between you. he trusts you. you can feel it in the way he gives you space to lead, the way he nods subtly in meetings when you speak, the way his eyes linger sometimes—not in a way that feels invasive, but like he’s... thinking.
you’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. never seen him talk about his personal life. no ring, no photos on his desk, not even vague mentions of a girlfriend or family. and while no one dares to say anything to his face, everyone wonders. he's a man, though—no one criticizes him for being single. no one asks him what he's waiting for.
you, on the other hand, can barely go a week without someone making a comment. still not married? you’re so pretty, what a shame. your mother means well, but every call ends with a variation of you’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.you smile through it. you tell them you're happy. you tell yourself that, too. but deep down, there's a quiet ache. because you’ve always wanted a family. always dreamed of being a mother, of coming home to someone who knows you—not just your schedule or your favorite takeout order, but the way you think, the way you feel things deeply and try to hide it. but love hasn’t knocked in years. not since your last relationship ended at twenty-two, before the world hardened your heart. since then, you’ve been too busy, too careful, too tired.
tonight, you're staying late again. the office is nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights and the buzz of a vending machine down the hall. you're finessing the last pieces of a major project, making sure every detail is just right. you're in the zone when you hear soft footsteps approaching, and then his voice—low, familiar, closer than expected.
“you’re still here, byun?”
you glance up to find jaehyun standing by your desk, hands in his pockets, that usual unreadable expression on his face. there’s no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.
you offer a tired smile, leaning back in your chair. “oh, mr. jeong, i just wanted to polish a few things before the presentation. i figured if i leave anything messy, the senior managers will rip it apart. and then you’ll take the heat for it.”
he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost looks like a smile. “you care that much about how i look to the execs?”
you shrug, turning back to your screen. “you’re my boss. if you look bad, i look bad.”
he lets out a soft exhale, a sound that's dangerously close to a chuckle. then he leans against your desk, his body relaxed but his eyes still sharp as ever. “you’re too committed.”
“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
he shakes his head. “not bad. just... rare.”
a brief silence settles between you, not awkward, but weighted. it feels like he’s about to say something else, and when he does, it’s not what you expect.
“doesn’t your family mind that you stay this late?” his gaze holds yours. “your husband? kids?”
you blink, the question catching you off guard. your smile falters just slightly, and you look down at your hands before answering.
“no husband. no kids. no one waiting at home.” you try to sound casual, even throw in a little laugh. “i guess i’m just married to the job.”
he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t look away. “i didn’t know.”
you nod, suddenly very aware of the silence around you. “most people assume. but... yeah. i live alone.”
another pause. then, gently, you ask, “what about you, mr. jeong? i mean, you’re always here late too. no one waiting on you?”
he looks away for the first time, his jaw tightening slightly before he answers. “no one yet.”
and there it is again—that silence between you. but this time, it’s different. it hums with something unspoken. curiosity. surprise. maybe even recognition.
you return your gaze to the screen, not really seeing it. he’s still standing there, close enough to feel but not close enough to touch. something in the air shifts, and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels... not heavy, but full.
the next morning, you arrived a few minutes early—just like always. being punctual wasn’t about impressing anyone; it was about control, about proving—at least to yourself—that you had your life together. it made you feel reliable. consistent. in a workplace full of half-assed excuses and people who couldn’t meet a deadline to save their lives, your discipline was something you wore like armor. something no one could take from you.
your outfit was soft, delicate even—rose-pink skirt brushing just above your knees, a crisp white button-up tucked in neatly, the blazer matching your skirt in a subtle pastel tone. your heels clicked softly against the tile floor as you made your way to your desk, and as you passed the reflection on one of the glass panels, you couldn’t help but think: i look good today.
you did. your hair was in place, makeup light but elegant, lips tinted a faint nude-pink. polished. pretty. professional. but beneath all that... you also looked a little alone. not that anyone would say it to your face—but you could see it sometimes, in the glances people gave you. admiration, maybe. pity, sometimes. curiosity always.
you sat down, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your chair, reaching for the little yellow post-it you’d stuck to the side of your monitor the day before. your handwriting was neat, methodical. a short list of pending tasks, each one already being mentally checked off as you booted up your computer. you didn’t waste time—your fingers flew across the keyboard, and within minutes the familiar sounds of productivity filled your small corner of the office: the rhythmic clack of keys, the soft hum and spit of the printer warming up to spit out proposals and reports.
you didn’t hear him come in.
you were too deep in the flow, too focused on aligning the final report with the visual standards the company demanded. your eyes scanned the document line by line, searching for typos, ensuring everything was clean, sharp, presentable. the sound of footsteps behind you didn’t register until you felt it—that subtle, electric awareness that comes when someone is watching.
“good morning, byun. please leave the project report on my desk once it’s ready.”
he didn’t look at you. just passed by, smooth and quick, his voice calm and firm, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the familiar scent of roast beans and expensive cologne trailing behind him like a silent presence. his stride didn’t falter, his gaze fixed ahead, like he’d already moved on to the next ten things in his mind. you barely had time to nod, mouth parted to respond, but he was already disappearing behind his office door.
you blinked.
right. the report.
you gathered the last printed pages, slid them into the presentation folder, double-checked the order, smoothed the cover with your palm before rising from your seat. your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the short corridor, your fingers lightly tapping the edge of the folder, nerves tightening with each step even if there was nothing to be nervous about. it was just work. just jaehyun. just another report.
you knocked once and entered when he answered. he was seated behind his desk, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the dark veins of his forearms visible as he typed something on his laptop. he glanced up, briefly, then reached for the report when you held it out.
“thank you,” he said, flipping it open with precision, already scanning the contents. “at two p.m. we have the meeting with upper management. you’ll be joining me at the table. along with choi and hwang.”
you nodded. “understood.”
“good. go over the numbers one more time before then. they’re likely to ask.”
“yes, mr. jeong.”
and that was it. no warm smile. no thank you. just professional, cold efficiency. you turned and left, closing the door gently behind you before returning to your desk, the weight of the upcoming meeting settling on your shoulders like a familiar cloak. you’d been through this before. plenty of times. but it never got easier. not when the room was full of men in suits who barely hid their condescension, who chewed through ideas like tasteless gum until someone—usually jaehyun—said something smart enough to catch their interest.
you spent the next few hours fine-tuning the financial section, making sure your data was clean, graphs properly labeled, estimates realistic but still ambitious. it was a delicate game—making things sound innovative without actually suggesting anything too risky. they didn’t want bold. they wanted impressive illusions of boldness packaged in safe wrapping.
the meeting room was as bland as ever. too much glass, too much beige. you sat at the long table beside jaehyun, your laptop open, presentation ready. the managers arrived first, already complaining about another team’s failed prototype. the director entered last, stone-faced as always, his tie perfect, his opinion impossible to read.
as expected, the meeting dragged. they picked apart the proposal, paragraph by paragraph, expressionless until one of them grimaced like the very concept of originality offended them. you watched them, these men who nodded at each other but rarely smiled, who offered feedback that wasn’t feedback, just empty phrases like “it needs more punch” or “is this trend even scalable?”
then jaehyun spoke.
his voice was calm, slow, measured. and yet he made every single line sound convincing. powerful. like there was no other way forward but the one he was laying out. the room shifted around him. the tension eased. eyes narrowed—not in skepticism now, but interest. he wasn’t just presenting; he was selling a vision, and you felt yourself straightening with pride even if the credit wasn’t yours.
until he said your name.
“y/n,” he said, still facing the director. “if you could present the budget projections.”
you froze for a half second. not out of fear—just... surprise. you hadn’t expected him to call on you so soon.
you stood, smoothed your skirt unconsciously, and took a breath before switching slides. your voice was steady, even if your palms were clammy.
“these are the projections for the next two quarters,” you began, pointing at the chart. “we’ve estimated a moderate increase in cost during the development phase, with a break-even point projected for the beginning of q3. depending on the approved budget, we’re looking at a return on investment of approximately—”
you kept going, explaining the graphs, walking them through the numbers with careful clarity. no embellishments, no guesswork. facts. you swallowed once, clearing your throat before the final slide, then ended with a nod.
when you sat back down, jaehyun glanced at you. just a moment. a flicker of something almost soft in his expression.
like you’d done well.
like you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.
the rest of the meeting blurred. the managers began tossing in extra suggestions—small changes, tweaks they hoped would impress the director. the man nodded, offered vague praise, and you remained at your seat, listening to it all with a practiced, patient expression.
when the meeting finally ended, you stood beside jaehyun again. he didn’t say much—he never did—but as he packed his laptop, he looked at you.
“good work today,” he said. “you’re an essential part of the team. if you keep this up, i’ll make sure your name’s considered for the upcoming promotions.”
you stared at him, momentarily stunned. the words hit harder than you expected. you’d worked for five years, given everything to this company, and this—this was the first time someone above you had said something that felt... real.
“thank you,” you said softly, trying not to let your smile get too big. “really.”
he nodded. “you earned it.”
later, when the director extended the dinner invitation, you didn’t hesitate. it wasn’t optional. the team needed to show up, needed to mingle, to pretend everything was a celebration and not an endless cycle of office politics masked with clinking glasses.
the bar was upscale but casual enough to loosen people’s ties. smoke from grilled meats hung faintly in the air, the tang of sweet sauces and roasted garlic filling the space. you sat between your supervisor and jaehyun, trying not to feel too stiff in your work clothes. everyone was drinking, toasting, laughing louder than they had all day.
the supervisor leaned forward, voice slightly slurred. “you know,” he said to the director, “the whole prototype? the mockup? the execution timeline? all her. y/n practically carried the whole thing.”
the director turned to you, surprised. “really? how long have you been here?”
“five years,” you replied, sipping from your glass.
he raised a brow. “how is it possible i haven’t noticed you until now?”
jaehyun, still beside you, said nothing—but you felt the subtle tension in his posture.
“you’ve got a good employee,” the director told him. “it’s your job to shape her. teach her. sounds like she’s already on the right path. with the right guidance... she’ll move up in no time.”
he raised his glass. “to y/n.”
“to y/n,” echoed around the table.
you lifted your glass, cheeks warm—not just from the alcohol but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen. you smiled, surrounded by coworkers and approval and good food, and for a moment, just one moment, everything felt like it was finally going somewhere.
you were finally going somewhere.
the dinner had blurred into noise.
conversations overlapping, laughter rising and falling like tides. glasses clinked, meat sizzled on the grill, the warm lighting softening everyone's expressions into something hazy and unguarded. you sat at the long table, just a bit to the side, the smoky scent of barbecued meat in your hair and the echo of compliments still lingering in your chest. across from you, your supervisor had long since slipped into a drunken retelling of his glory days. to your left, jaehyun sat quietly, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. his arms were strong, veins defined even in the low light, and on his left wrist, a sleek, expensive watch glinted every time he reached for his glass. he hadn’t touched his soju in a while, though. he just held the rim between his fingers and occasionally let his gaze wander across the room.
when your eyes met, it was casual, almost accidental. but you didn’t look away.
“you’re not drinking,” you said, quietly enough that only he could hear.
he offered the ghost of a smirk, the kind that barely pulled at one corner of his mouth. “someone has to remember what was actually said tonight.”
you laughed, a soft breathy sound, grateful for his clarity amidst the chaos.
a silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. rather, it felt like a small space carved out just for the two of you—unbothered, untouched, a bubble where you didn’t have to keep smiling or pretending. you let out a quiet sigh, swirling your untouched drink in your hand.
“do you ever feel like you're running out of time?” you asked, voice low, not even sure why you were asking him of all people.
jaehyun looked at you, brows drawn slightly, intrigued but still calm. “time for what?”
you hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass. the alcohol was warm in your chest, but not enough to numb this confession.
“for everything,” you admitted. “i mean, professionally… things are going great. i can’t complain. i’ve worked hard, and it’s starting to pay off. but…” you looked down, lips pressing together. “sometimes i feel like i’m trapped inside a giant hourglass, watching the sand fall, grain by grain. i’ll be thirty in a few months. and i know that shouldn't mean anything, but in a world where people expect you to have everything figured out by now—marriage, kids, some picture-perfect life—i feel like i’m falling behind. like my dreams are moving farther and farther away.”
you took a breath, not daring to look at him.
“it’s just… sad,” you continued. “when you achieve something big and there’s no one waiting at home to celebrate it with you. no partner, no family. no one to say, ‘i’m proud of you.’”
jaehyun was quiet for a moment. then his voice came, soft and even.
“i can celebrate with you.”
you looked up, surprised, blinking at him. “thank you, but… that’s not what i meant. it’s not the same.”
he held your gaze. then, calmly, like he was offering a solution to a logistics problem, he said it.
“then marry me.”
your brain stalled.
you didn’t understand at first. maybe you misheard him. maybe he was joking, or drunk—except his voice hadn’t changed. his tone hadn’t wavered. your stomach dropped.
“…what?” you whispered.
“you want a family. you want someone to come home to. marry me.”
the words hung between you like smoke. absurd. unreal. your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. you glanced around—everyone else was too busy laughing or slurring their next toast to notice what had just happened.
you leaned in slightly, voice tense and hushed. “mr.—jeong—what are you talking about? we don’t even know each other like that.”
“we know enough,” he said without blinking.
“we’ve never even had a real conversation outside of work until now.”
“so let’s have more,” he replied, as steady as always.
you felt like your heart was beating too loudly. “are you… are you seriously suggesting we get married?”
“i’m not suggesting it. i’m telling you i’d do it. if you said yes.”
you stared at him, at the cool detachment on his face, the quiet certainty in his voice, and felt your world tip on its axis.
he shrugged. “how long until you turn thirty?”
“…my birthday’s in november,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could even process them. “it’s april now. that’s seven months.”
jaehyun nodded slowly. “then you have seven months to decide.”
he finished his beer in one slow, final gulp. then he stood up, reaching into his wallet and placing a few bills under his empty glass. you were still frozen when he stepped beside you.
“i’ll take you home,” he said.
you tried to protest, voice stumbling over half-formed refusals. “you don’t have to—i can call a cab, really—”
he looked down at you, expression unreadable.
“that wasn’t a request. it’s your boss giving you a ride.”
and with that, he turned, waiting for you to follow. your legs felt heavy as you stood, your mind racing, still reeling from what had just happened. marry him? seven months? he was serious. he was actually serious.
you had no answers. only questions. and one man who had just offered you everything you’d spent your life pretending you didn’t need.
you didn’t sleep.
not really. you tossed and turned, arms flung across the bed one minute and buried under the covers the next. jaehyun’s words echoed in your skull like an intrusive melody, looping over and over again.
then marry me.
you have seven months to decide.
like some sort of countdown had been triggered.
you must have stared at your ceiling for hours, trying to make sense of what he meant—what it meant for you—and whether he’d been serious. but the worst part wasn’t the proposal. the worst part was how calm he’d been, how effortlessly he’d said it, and how easily he’d walked away afterward like it hadn’t upended your entire sense of self.
your alarm went off at seven, and you hit snooze five times. by the time you dragged yourself out of bed, you felt like your bones had aged a decade overnight. you put on your makeup with the heaviness of someone trying to erase exhaustion from the inside out—concealer, color corrector, foundation. you went over your under-eyes twice, then a third time. you looked like yourself, but blurry. off.
you arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which was already enough to earn a few raised brows. no one said anything, but they noticed. you noticed them noticing.
you sat at your desk and stared at your drawers, forgetting which one you kept the monthly reports in. your fingers shook slightly as you shuffled through folders, trying to find the stupid paperwork you'd seen a million times. a stack of them slipped from your grasp and scattered onto the floor like a metaphor. you groaned and crouched down to collect them, muttering under your breath. your brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses.
then—
“good morning.”
his voice. that casual, bored tone he always used in the office. neutral, even, no trace of anything buried beneath it. no sign that he’d ever said something as life-altering as what he’d said last night.
you startled so hard you hit your head on the underside of your desk.
“good—ouch!” you winced, clutching your scalp with one hand and your pride with the other. “good morning, mr. jeong.”
he kept walking. didn’t glance down at you. didn’t smirk. didn’t check if you were okay. he passed your desk like any other morning, like he hadn’t proposed to you over beer and smoke and shared loneliness.
a few coworkers peeked over their partitions, concerned. you gave a shaky thumbs-up and a whispered, “i’m fine,” even though you felt anything but fine.
you weren’t like this. not at work. not ever. your name was synonymous with precision. discipline. control. and here you were, dropping papers and bumping into furniture like your brain had short-circuited.
you finally gathered the reports and brought them to his office.
he was seated at his desk, focused on his screen, the sleeves of his dress shirt still rolled to his elbows. your eyes caught briefly on the line of his forearm, the watch still there, still ticking.
“these are the reports from last month,” you said, setting the folder down.
“thanks,” he replied without looking at you.
you lingered.
“mr. jeong.”
he finally looked up.
his eyes were calm. cool. like nothing was wrong. like he hadn’t detonated a bomb and walked away from the wreckage.
you hesitated, your throat dry. “about what you said last night—”
his expression didn’t change.
“we’re at work,” he said simply. “i’m being professional.”
you blinked, almost offended. “so that’s it? you say something that insane and then just—go back to normal?”
“we’ll talk after work,” he said, returning to his screen. “if you want to.”
you stood there, gripping the folder even though it was already out of your hands, heart thudding with something sour and hot and unnamable. frustration? humiliation? confusion? all of it?
he was treating you like you were the one out of line. like you were being inappropriate for even bringing it up.
you turned around without saying anything else and walked out of his office, pulse hammering in your ears. the rest of the day dragged like wet cement. you couldn’t concentrate. you couldn’t remember what you were supposed to be doing half the time. you reread emails four times before hitting send. and every time someone walked past your desk, you wondered if it was him, if he’d say anything, if he’d look at you, if he even remembered what he said or if the memory of it belonged to you alone now.
you’d never felt so out of control.
you didn’t know what was worse—his silence or the fact that you wanted him to break it.
you tried to focus. god, you really did. you stared at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred into static. you answered emails with words you didn’t remember typing. every time the phone rang, your heart jumped, irrationally convinced it might be him—even though you were in the same building, separated by maybe thirty feet of glass, air, and unspoken tension. it felt like the longest day of your life. your temples throbbed with a slow, building ache, like your thoughts were pressing too hard against the inside of your skull.
you popped two painkillers around lunchtime, washed them down with lukewarm water from your reusable bottle, but they didn’t help. not really. because the pain wasn’t just physical—it was mental. emotional. a kind of pressure that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.
your mind wouldn’t shut up.
you kept looping the same questions, over and over again, like your brain was stuck on a carousel with no exit.
why would he say that? why now? why you?
he already told you he'd wait. seven months. seven impossibly long, slow-burning months.
so why talk? why meet? it wasn’t for him. it didn’t serve him. he’d been clear. he had time, he had patience. this conversation—it was for you. you were the one desperate to make sense of it. to understand his motives. to justify the insanity of it all.
but how were you supposed to justify something that made no sense?
he’s twenty-seven. handsome. polished. wealthy. he could have anyone—literally anyone. girls younger than you, brighter than you, women who weren’t crawling toward their thirties with a fading list of half-achieved dreams and a fridge full of takeout leftovers. why you?
a mid-level employee in a department no one paid much attention to. someone who had to fight tooth and nail just to be noticed in board meetings. someone who had accomplishments but no one to toast with. someone who fell asleep most nights with their phone face-down and on silent because no one was texting anyway.
why you?
you didn’t have an answer.
you finished your tasks—barely—and the moment the clock hit the end of your shift, you shut your computer down with shaky fingers and grabbed your bag. your steps felt heavy, reluctant, as you made your way through the hall toward the entrance. part of you wanted to bolt, to pretend nothing had ever been said, to go home and crawl into bed and put on a show you wouldn’t really watch. to sleep off the confusion like a bad hangover.
but the doors opened before you could entertain the thought. those clean, automatic glass doors slid apart with a hiss, and there he was.
leaning casually against one of the white pillars just outside, his suit jacket draped neatly over his forearm, his other hand gripping his sleek black briefcase like it weighed nothing. he looked like something out of a commercial—well-dressed, composed, the perfect image of success. but when his eyes met yours, something flickered beneath the surface. maybe restraint. maybe tension. maybe nothing.
he walked toward you calmly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the smooth tile.
“get in the car,” he said, voice even. “we’re going to talk. like you wanted.”
not a question. not a request.
he turned without waiting for your answer and made his way to a parked luxury sedan—shiny, deep black, windows tinted so dark you could barely see the interior. he opened the passenger door for you, as if the conversation that waited inside was just another part of his routine.
you hesitated, only for a second.
but then you followed.
because no matter how messy your thoughts were, no matter how terrified or confused or unworthy you felt, one truth cut through the noise:
you wanted to know.
you slid into the passenger seat, trying to calm the way your heart was sprinting inside your chest. the door closed beside you with a quiet thunk, sealing you into a space you weren’t sure you were ready for.
he walked around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel, smooth and unhurried.
you stared straight ahead.
ready—or not—to finally ask the questions that wouldn’t leave you alone.
the silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. not exactly. but it was dense—like fog inside your chest, heavy and silent and there to stay.
you stared out the window as the city drifted past, familiar buildings made foreign by the storm in your head. beside you, jaehyun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. there was music playing—low, jazzy, old—but he didn’t speak. not until you passed a traffic light and he tilted his head, casually.
“did you get enough sleep last night?” he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.
you didn’t look at him. “not really.”
“figured,” he said, turning smoothly into another avenue. “you looked like hell.”
you gave a humorless chuckle, resting your elbow against the door and propping your chin in your hand. “thanks for the compliment, sir.”
“anytime,” he said dryly.
and that was it. that was all the small talk he offered. nothing personal. nothing intimate. just an acknowledgment that he saw you. that he’d noticed.
the drive was short, and before you could make sense of anything, you were already parking in front of a modest little korean restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. it smelled like steam, garlic, and simmered bone broth. a place where people went for real food and no-frills comfort.
“this place has the best gomguk in the city,” jaehyun said, grabbing his briefcase from the back. “been coming here since i was a teenager.”
you hesitated at the door. “you like bone soup?”
“love it.”
you wrinkled your nose. “i can’t stand that stuff. never could. not even as a kid.”
he paused mid-step and gave you a look, slightly amused. “well,” he said, “there’s our first disagreement as a couple.”
you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what?”
“now i know you don’t like gomguk. guess i’ll have to avoid cooking it for you.”
you said nothing.
because he wasn’t joking. not really. not entirely. and that was the part that made your mouth dry.
how could he say things like that so easily? so naturally? as if you hadn’t spent the entire day unraveling at the seams while he strutted through the office like nothing had happened?
he sat across from you at the table, unbothered, scanning the menu like it wasn’t even necessary. he already knew what he wanted. meanwhile, you still didn’t know why you were there.
you picked something else. kimchi jjigae, maybe—safe, familiar, strong enough to mask the taste of your confusion.
once the server took your orders and disappeared behind the curtain, you leaned forward, folding your hands together to stop them from trembling.
“why me?”
his eyes lifted slowly from the empty table to your face. “there’s no reason,” he said. “i just want to give you what you want.”
“do you say that to all women?”
he smirked. “if i did, i’d probably be married to half the city by now.”
you shook your head. “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“don’t treat this like a mission,” you snapped, trying not to raise your voice. “i don’t need your pity. i shared something vulnerable with you, yeah. but that doesn’t mean you have to swoop in and rescue me from a miserable life of solitude by offering a ring. this isn’t some fairytale. i don’t need a man to save me.”
“i never said you did.”
you exhaled slowly. “i want to love and be loved. to build something. something real. not this... whatever this is. a contract. a deal. a deadline to escape loneliness.”
his expression didn’t shift. not a single flicker. but his voice softened.
“then let’s say this. if in seven months, you still haven’t found someone—someone who makes you feel like you can build something... try it with me.”
you stared at him. hard. trying to read every intention in the lines of his face.
“just like that?”
“just like that.”
you couldn’t look away.
and then he said it. the words that settled into the cracks of your resolve like warm rain after a drought.
“we can love. i can love you. you can love me, if you want to. if you want to date, we can date. you don’t have to feel pressured. i just think... you’re worth the risk. and i don’t think you should torture yourself every day that passes just because you haven’t ‘settled down.’ opportunities don’t always come twice. sometimes you have to grab them while they’re here. or regret it forever.”
your lips parted, but nothing came out.
you looked at him then—not as the cold, polished man who walked the halls like a ghost in tailored suits. not as your boss. not as someone who confused and overwhelmed you.
you saw him as a man.
a man who knew what he wanted. who wasn’t afraid to take action. who looked you in the eye and offered you something you weren’t even sure you deserved.
his jawline. his eyes. the little wrinkle between his brows when he got serious. the calm way he listened. the confidence. the clarity.
you saw him differently.
you weren’t ready to give him an answer. not yet.
but something inside you had shifted.
you just didn’t know what to call it.
he didn’t rush you.
he didn’t push.
he just sat there across from you in that tiny booth, his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, waiting with the kind of quiet confidence that only made your heart beat louder. he stirred his soup gently, letting it cool, occasionally taking a sip without ever looking away from you for too long.
and then he said it—casually, as if proposing something as simple as lunch next week.
“let’s do this. i’ll pick you up after work from now on. we’ll go out. have dinner. spend time together. see what happens. let it unfold naturally.”
just like that.
your breath caught. “i… i have doubts,” you admitted, almost in a whisper. “i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what to feel. this is all so sudden, so... fast.”
he nodded, unbothered. “that’s okay.”
you blinked. “that’s okay?”
“yes. it’s not a race. but you heard what i said—opportunities don’t always knock twice. you don’t have to say yes right now. just think about it.”
but you were thinking. too much.
his voice played on repeat in your mind: we can love. i can love you. you can love me. and god, wasn’t that the exact thing you’d been terrified of never having?
your fingers trembled under the table. your palms clammy, your mouth dry. you rubbed your hands together slowly, grounding yourself in that simple motion, trying to breathe.
he didn’t flinch. didn’t ask again. just kept sipping his soup, patient as stone, like he’d already accepted whatever answer you’d give him.
you stared at your food, at the steam rising, the way the aroma filled the space between you and him like something sacred. you still couldn’t stand bone soup. but somehow, being across from him made it smell less... offensive. less like something to run from.
and you remembered.
all those nights crying in silence.
all those mornings brushing your teeth with tears stuck in your throat because you didn’t know if ever would come.
ever finding someone.
ever being enough.
ever being loved without begging for it.
maybe he wasn’t what you imagined.
maybe he was better.
you looked up at him.
“okay,” you said, softly. then stronger. “okay. i’ll try. i’ll let you pick me up. we’ll go on these dates. maybe… maybe i can love you. maybe i can let myself be loved by you.”
he paused mid-sip, eyes lifting.
your voice cracked slightly when you added, “maybe i can stay with you.”
for a beat, the world went still.
he didn’t smile wide. didn’t gloat or tease.
he just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. his eyes warm, deep, but controlled—like someone who’d been expecting this moment and didn’t want to scare it off.
“good,” he said. “that’s all i needed.”
you swallowed hard.
and for the first time since that strange proposal, something in your chest loosened.
you weren’t sure if this was love.
but it was a beginning.
the next morning. everything is different.
you walk into the building like you own the damn place—heels sharp, suit immaculate, makeup clean and fierce, ponytail slicked high like a crown. the memory of yesterday—your stumble, your throbbing head, your wandering thoughts—now felt like a distant, irrelevant dream. that wasn’t you. this was.
a woman who knew what she wanted.
a woman who said yes.
you smiled to yourself in the elevator. not just any smile—that kind. the kind that curled at the corners, the kind that held secrets, the kind that felt like sin dressed in silk. the kind that belonged to someone with a man waiting outside a restaurant, ordering bone broth, and talking about love like it was something simple. doable. inevitable.
you were early. again. not by accident this time, but by choice.
you slid into your desk, organized, efficient, present. the hum of the office hadn’t started yet, and you took advantage of the calm, catching up on reports and scheduling the week like the good girl you were trained to be. but this time, it was different. you weren’t surviving the day. you were anticipating it.
and then—at exactly the hour—he walked in.
jung jaehyun.
same black suit. same silver watch. same air of cool detachment.
but today, when he passed by your desk and muttered his usual, “good morning,” you didn’t just nod like before.
you stood up—too fast.
too happy.
“good morning, mr. jeong!” you sang, voice lilting and almost musical, like you’d just won the lottery.
it was instinctual. not calculated. just... you.
the entire floor stopped.
heads turned.
some eyebrows shot up. a few eyes narrowed.
jaehyun himself halted in his tracks, looking back at you slowly, his brows drawn together in the tiniest frown. he cleared his throat.
“everyone, back to work,” he said, voice firm. and then, after one last look—eyes narrowed at you in something between confusion and amusement—he turned and walked away.
you bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, barely suppressing the giggle building in your throat.
the memory of last night echoed in your mind, maybe i can love you, maybe i can stay with you—and now here you were, trying not to beam like a teenager with a crush. you watched his back disappear into his office, and your lips curled up, despite yourself.
you could still feel his eyes on you. even if he wasn’t looking.
after work, you waited by the entrance as the glass doors slid open.
he was already there—like he promised. leaning casually against his car, black coat folded over one arm, briefcase in hand, gaze scanning the horizon like the perfect ceo out of a drama. but as soon as his eyes met yours, they softened—barely, subtly—but you noticed.
“get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for you.
you slipped in without protest, heart beating faster than it had any right to.
once the car pulled away from the curb, the silence settled—but it didn’t last long.
“you can’t do that,” he said, not harshly, just... firm.
“do what?” you asked, knowing damn well.
“greet me like that. like that.” he glanced at you sideways. “at work.”
you shrugged. “what? we’re dating now. aren’t we?”
“we’re seeing where this goes,” he corrected. “but we still have to be professional. people talk. your position can be affected. and mine—”
you cut in, not harshly but with a certain fire. “i’m not going to apologize for being happy.”
“i’m not asking you to apologize.”
“then don’t ask me to pretend. i’ll dial it down, sure. but i’m not going to act like you don’t mean something to me when we’re under the same roof eight hours a day.”
he stayed quiet for a beat, tapping the wheel with one hand, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.
“is this how you are with all your boyfriends?”
you grinned. “i’m worse.”
he laughed. actually laughed. that deep, velvet sound you hadn’t heard much outside of formalities.
“well, i’ll brace myself,” he said. “i might enjoy it.”
you turned to the window, hiding your smile. this was really happening.
the drive back was quiet at first—a comfortable silence that didn’t demand immediate conversation. the kind of quiet that says: you don’t need to perform, just exist here with me.
the radio was on. a soft playlist of english ballads played in the background—songs about longing, beginnings, maybe even second chances. you doubted jaehyun picked them himself. it was probably just the algorithm. still, the timing felt so precise… so intentional, that you wondered if the universe was helping him out tonight.
you played with your fingers over your thighs, crossing and uncrossing your legs slowly, watching the night pass outside the window. city lights in the distance. trees swaying softly in the wind. you tried to guess where he was taking you next, but the truth was… you didn’t really care.
not knowing was part of the charm.
“where are we going?” you finally asked, unable to resist the curiosity.
he smiled without turning to look at you, eyes steady on the road ahead.
“it’s a secret,” he said. “you’ll have to wait and see.”
you squinted at him with mock suspicion, amused—and yet, inside, your heart started to thump a little faster with every mile.
there was something strangely beautiful about not being in control this time. about letting yourself be taken somewhere, not out of submission, but out of trust. you weren’t used to that. you weren’t used to letting anyone drive. but tonight, you wanted to believe you could lean back and just... be.
and then… the car turned down a dark, barely lit road, and you saw it.
a wide, open lot. a giant projector screen glowing at the far end. dozens of cars parked in neat rows, some with trunks open, fairy lights, blankets, snacks. couples curled together under the stars.
it was a drive-in movie. like something out of an old romance film.
you gasped, both hands flying to your mouth as you turned to him.
“oh my god. no way. are you serious?! i love the movies—but i've never done this. i’ve always wanted to, but… i don’t know. it just never happened.”
jaehyun glanced at you sideways. and this time, he smiled. really smiled. not the polite, composed smile he wore in the hallways or meetings—but something warm. something real.
“then it was a good idea,” he said simply.
he parked in the middle row. good view of the screen, but far enough for privacy. you were already melting—and then he popped the trunk.
a thick blanket. two small pillows. a tote bag with snacks—popcorn, a big soda bottle, even the exact chocolate bars you’d once said you liked during a random, probably drunk, late-night conversation. you didn’t even remember mentioning it.
he did.
“did you plan all of this?” you asked, curled slightly sideways in the passenger seat while he arranged everything with care between you.
“i just wanted you to be comfortable,” he said. “i wanted it to be... special.”
no posturing. no hidden motive. just sincerity. you felt it in the way he unfolded the blanket and draped it gently over your lap. in how he checked the window—cracked just enough to let in the breeze, not enough to let in the cold. In how he handed you the soda first, before even opening his own drink.
the movie started. some lighthearted rom-com with ridiculous dialogue and cheesy plot points, but it didn’t matter. it was perfect. low-stakes. no pressure. you curled your legs under you, blanket snug, the flickering light from the screen dancing across your skin.
every once in a while, you’d glance at jaehyun. and more than once, you caught him watching you instead of the film.
“are you bored?” you whispered.
“not even close.”
“you haven’t laughed once.”
he turned to you, that sarcastic little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly.
“you’re already making enough noise for the both of us.”
you gave him a playful slap on the arm, pretending to be offended.
“that was a compliment,” he added, amused.
you rolled your eyes—but smiled. god, you smiled so much that night.
as the credits rolled, something shifted in the silence. the mood thickened—not heavy, just… deeper. weighted with something. a moment hanging on the edge of change. your head leaned against the window as the screen dimmed, your eyes distant but your heart so very full.
he still didn’t touch you.
he didn’t grab your hand. didn’t lean in.
but his presence wrapped around you all the same—solid, patient, waiting. not pushing, just there. learning how to be near you without demanding anything in return.
“thank you,” you said softly, voice almost too quiet to hear. “for this. for everything.”
“you don’t have to thank me.”
“yes, i do. it’s not every day someone goes out of their way like this.”
he paused before answering. his tone was steady, but low.
“i want this to work,” he said. “and if that means planning teenage-level dates with blankets and popcorn, then… yeah. i’ll do that.”
you laughed, eyes dropping to your lap.
“you’re doing well so far.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
and then you looked at each other. just looked. no words needed.
but inside… you felt it.
your shoulders, usually tense, were light. your heart, bruised and cautious for so long, was opening again. quietly, but surely. as if whispering, i’m still here. i still want to believe.
you weren’t sure where this would go. if it would last. if it would end in tears or something worse.
but right now, in his car, under the stars, with the last notes of the film still echoing through your skin…
you wanted to find out.
you wanted to try.
the next morning at the office felt different—less chaotic, more grounded. you greeted the receptionist with a small smile, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way in, clutching your coffee cup like a security blanket. you weren't glowing, exactly, but something about you was… softer. less guarded. like a petal finally relaxing in the warmth of spring after a too-long winter.
jaehyun noticed immediately.
you caught him watching you from the glass-walled conference room as you entered the bullpen. he didn't stare, not in a way that would make it obvious to others—but his eyes followed you, just long enough to clock the change. your navy blue pencil skirt hugged your hips, the slit in the back offering just the right amount of grace as you walked. the cream blouse you wore was modest but elegant, the top button left undone, showing the delicate line of your collarbone. your hair was half-up, your makeup minimal, professional—but the gloss on your lips and the quiet shimmer on your eyelids betrayed a whisper of mischief. not overt. just enough for someone paying attention.
you met his gaze briefly through the glass and raised your brows in a silent hello before looking away, sipping your coffee with forced nonchalance.
by the time you crossed paths an hour later—both of you heading into a smaller briefing room—he gave you that look again. the one that asked, really? amused, but faintly disbelieving.
"good morning, mr. jeong," you greeted him politely, eyes straight ahead as if you hadn't spent the last night wrapped in his blanket, watching a movie with your legs tangled under it.
"miss y/l/n," he replied, his lips curving into a knowing smile as he held the door open for you. “very formal today.”
you didn’t rise to the bait. just gave him a brief, professional smile and walked past, heels clicking, not looking back. you were committed to the bit.
the meeting was brief, technical—a review of deliverables, some feedback loops, nothing out of the ordinary. you contributed where you needed to, kept your tone measured, avoided lingering glances. even when he made a rare joke and the room chuckled, you only allowed yourself a small, polite laugh, hands folded neatly on the table.
he didn’t push. but when you passed each other near the coffee station later, his voice dropped low, just enough for you to hear.
“you’re really leaning into the whole executive assistant with boundaries thing, huh?”
you smirked as you refilled your mug, still not looking at him. “just trying to keep things professional, mr. jeong.”
“of course.” he nodded once, pretending to adjust his tie. “wouldn’t want to cross any lines.”
you bit your lip to suppress your grin. the game was on.
at 3:47 PM, your phone lit up with a text from his office number:
meeting with the department heads in fifteen. boardroom. don’t be late.
signed J.J.
you rolled your eyes but your stomach did a little flip.
the 4 PM meeting dragged—there was a lot of back and forth over campaign numbers and rollout schedules, but you held your own, taking notes, speaking clearly when your insight was needed. you could feel jaehyun watching you when others weren’t—his gaze warm, grounding—but he didn’t speak to you directly unless it was related to the discussion. you appreciated that. It let you stay in control, let you breathe.
after everyone had trickled out and the room was quiet, you stayed behind a moment, closing your laptop and straightening the chairs without a word. he didn’t move from his seat at the head of the table, just watched you as you moved, his fingers idly spinning a pen.
“dinner?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence.
you didn’t look up right away. “are you asking as mr. jeong or...?”
he tilted his head, eyes playful. “just jaehyun.”
you looked up, meeting his eyes. something flickered between you—recognition. of the past few days, the softness in your chest, the way your shoulders had finally stopped bracing for disappointment.
“okay,” you said quietly. “dinner.”
he didn’t take you to a fancy restaurant or anywhere showy. just a quiet little rooftop place downtown, dim lights and mellow music, open air and the sound of the city below. you sat across from him at a small table, knees brushing under the surface. you shared dishes, laughed softly, talked about nothing and everything. he asked about your childhood; you asked about his first heartbreak. there was no rush to get anywhere. just being there—together—was enough.
at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you.
at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you with that open expression he reserved for moments like this—unguarded, gently curious.
“you said you grew up outside the city,” he said, casually swirling the remnants of his drink. “what about your parents?”
you set your fork down and rested your elbows lightly on the table, exhaling. “they still live in the same town. a couple hours from here.”
he nodded. “siblings?”
“one,” you replied. “older brother. married. two little boys.”
jaehyun smiled at that. “you’re the cool aunt.”
you laughed softly, the sound bittersweet. “i try. i send them stickers and weird snacks from the city. but i think i’m mostly the mysterious aunt who lives alone in seoul and doesn’t have a husband, which is a major point of concern for my parents.”
jaehyun raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “concern?”
“oh, huge.” you leaned back, crossing your arms with a mock-serious nod. “they think i’m one heartbreak away from crawling back into my childhood bedroom with a suitcase and giving up entirely. i get the same call every weekend—‘have you met someone yet?’ and ‘when are you coming home, sweetheart?’ like my single status is a national emergency.”
you smiled, tried to make it sound light. funny. but the knot in your chest tugged a little tighter with each word. because underneath the teasing tone, it hurt. the weight of expectation, of having let them down without really meaning to. you’d always thought, by now, you’d have that picture-perfect family. a husband. maybe a child. but life had taken its own sharp turns, and somewhere along the way, you'd lost the map.
before your thoughts could spiral too far inward, you turned your eyes toward him and asked, “what about you? any siblings?”
he shook his head. “only child.”
“wow. that explains the drama,” you teased.
he grinned, playing along. “what drama?”
you shrugged, playful. “the perfectly tousled hair. the quiet confidence. the whole mysterious boss with a tragic past vibe.”
jaehyun laughed, the sound low and warm. “nothing tragic, thankfully. my parents own a condo complex back in busan. they keep to themselves. ever since i moved out, they’ve stayed out of my decisions. no guilt trips. no blind dates.”
he smirked a little, taking another sip. “which is great for me.”
you smiled at that, but there was something about the way he said it—casual, yes, but laced with a kind of loneliness you recognized. the kind that came with being left alone a little too much. with being successful but still carrying a shadow no one quite asked about.
you watched him for a second longer than necessary. then nodded slowly. “that does sound kind of great.”
he looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you shifted—deeper now. heavy with things not said.
the city hummed around you. glasses clinked from other tables. somewhere, a violinist was playing faintly near the street below. but you only heard the soft cadence of his breath, the way it matched your own.
and then he stood and offered you his hand.
you didn’t hesitate this time. you let him lead you to the edge of the rooftop, where the view was clearer, the air colder. your arms brushed as you looked out together, shoulder to shoulder, warm skin against cool wind.
he turned to you first, eyes darker now, thoughtful. “you don’t need to rush anything. marriage, or whatever they want from you. you’re… okay. just as you are.”
you looked at him slowly, your heart caught somewhere between gratitude and ache. “thanks,” you whispered. “sometimes i forget.”
he stepped closer—barely—but it was enough to make your breath hitch.
you met his gaze, and something shifted between you again. tighter. stronger. the kind of tension that doesn’t demand to be broken, only… felt.
he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you didn’t.
your lips met his softly, a single, tentative kiss that carried the full weight of everything left unspoken. sweet, searching, the kind of kiss that says i see you. that says stay.
and when you pulled back, your eyes didn’t dart away.
they lingered.
because something had begun. and neither of you was pretending anymore.
there was no big speech. no sudden declarations.
just the quiet gravity of this moment. the closeness. the way his eyes searched yours with a gentleness that made your breath catch.
april melted into may in soft, golden increments—like a candle burning slow at both ends. the weather grew gentler, the evenings warmer, and with each passing day, your relationship with jaehyun unraveled in small, tender pieces that neither of you rushed to name.
you had more dinners together. nothing extravagant—he wasn’t the kind to impress with grand gestures—but always thoughtful. ramen tucked away in a quiet corner shop with mismatched stools. a spontaneous detour after a work meeting that led to an art gallery’s closing hour. coffee at a tiny cafe with mismatched mugs and jazz playing softly from a dusty speaker. with every outing, something softened between you. the way you spoke to each other, the way you lingered a second longer when saying goodbye, the way your eyes found his in a crowded room and stayed there.
still, at work, everything remained perfectly composed. restrained. you never touched, never called him anything but mr. jeong. no one suspected a thing—and that secrecy gave it all the thrill of something sacred. childish almost. like passing notes under a desk. a shared joke disguised in a spreadsheet. your fingers grazing when you exchanged documents. a glance too long in the breakroom when he poured your coffee before you even asked. you could feel it in the air, that charged silence of two people pretending to be just colleagues, and failing quietly, deliciously.
the project itself was moving well—smooth timelines, promising data. it gave you an excuse to spend more time in his office, laptop open across from his, sometimes both of you too focused to speak for long stretches. sometimes one of you talking while the other typed, nodding with half-listening affection. sometimes, on the slow days, the lines between work and personal conversation blurred gently, like ink on damp paper.
today was one of those days.
you sat across from him, legs crossed under the conference table, scrolling through performance reports while he adjusted a chart on his screen. outside the windows, the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the carpet and the sleeves of his shirt. he leaned back, stretching slightly, then caught your gaze with a small smile.
“so…” he said, voice lower than usual, “what are you doing this weekend?”
you glanced up, biting your lip to hide a smile. “why? do you need me to run more numbers?”
“maybe,” he said, teasing. “but i was thinking something less tragic. maybe the museum? or that poetry cafe you mentioned.”
you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “depends. are you asking as mr. jeong or as… jaehyun?”
he smirked, eyes playful. “i guess that depends on your answer.”
you were about to respond when the door opened without a knock. both of you sat up straighter instinctively, like students caught passing notes. the supervisor from the analytics division stepped in, scanning the room with barely concealed curiosity.
“mr. jeong,” he said, tone clipped, “the director wants to see you.”
jaehyun stood immediately, buttoning his jacket with an easy nod. “i’ll be there in a moment.”
the supervisor looked at you then. his eyes lingered—not long, but long enough. something unreadable passed over his face. “you’ve been spending a lot of time here,” he said, like it wasn’t a question.
you gave him your most neutral smile. “just supporting the project. we’re on a tight schedule.”
“mm.” he said nothing more, just nodded once and stepped out.
jaehyun glanced at you before leaving, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe. or quiet warning. you went back to your laptop, fingers pretending to type while your heart tried to calm its sudden gallop.
the evening found you both in his car again. the sun had already begun its descent, turning the sky a soft shade of apricot. you slid into the passenger seat, closed the door behind you, and without thinking too much, leaned over to kiss his cheek.
his skin was warm under your lips.
he blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, he forgot to hide it. the tips of his ears flushed red. he cleared his throat and reached for the ignition, like nothing happened, but his smile lingered, crooked and faint.
“you keep doing that,” he murmured, not looking at you.
“doing what?” you asked innocently.
he shook his head, eyes on the road. “making it hard to pretend we’re not dating.”
you grinned and didn’t answer.
he drove you to the han river, where the breeze was cool and kind, and the crowds were light enough to feel private. you sat cross-legged on the grass, sharing tteokbokki and fried dumplings from paper trays, watching cyclists blur past under the lamplights. a small speaker nearby played an old ballad, sweet and melancholic, and you leaned into his shoulder without needing permission.
“i like this,” you said softly.
“what part?” he asked.
“this part. where everything’s… quiet.”
he didn’t speak immediately. just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
“me too.”
you looked at him, really looked—and it hit you in that moment how far you’d come. from formal greetings and polite distance to soft laughter and shared silence. from stolen glances to kisses on the cheek that left him blushing.
and somehow, without realizing it, you’d stopped keeping count of how many times you thought about him during the day. because now he was part of your days.
and you didn’t want to imagine them without him anymore.
june arrived with a subtle shift in rhythm—projects moved faster, deadlines drew closer, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. the office felt heavier in the afternoons, warm with late spring air and the quiet hum of new beginnings.
one of those beginnings came in the form of kim jungwoo.
he was transferred from the incheon branch—a bright-eyed analyst with quick wit and a laugh that filled corners. you were told he'd be supporting the data team, and since your department handled most of the projections, he was placed right in front of your desk, where your eyes met every time you looked up. your first impression of him was that he was disarmingly charming—too friendly, too easygoing for the stiff, quiet culture of the office—but undeniably efficient. he asked questions that made sense, learned fast, and had a way of easing tension with a joke delivered just under his breath.
you kept things professional, as always. showed him how you sorted the quarterly metrics, how to navigate the company’s outdated database system without crashing it, how to color-code your sheets for easier reading. he listened, smiled, nodded. and eventually, he joked. made you laugh when you’d been staring at the same budget chart for hours. brought you coffee with your name scribbled on the lid in dramatic calligraphy. sometimes too much, sometimes exactly what you needed.
you liked him. platonically. comfortably. it was easy to like jungwoo.
but jaehyun noticed. of course he did.
at first, it was subtle. he’d call you into his office more frequently, asking for reports he usually didn’t request until later in the week. you didn’t think much of it—until you realized he was keeping you in there for hours. even when the topic had already run dry, even when both of you were silently pretending to still be discussing something relevant. you’d glance at your watch, mumble about needing to check on jungwoo’s progress, and jaehyun would give you this look—tight-lipped, unreadable, almost irritated.
the third time it happened, you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
“are you seriously going to keep me hostage in your office every time jungwoo asks me a question?” you asked, laptop balanced on your knees, arms crossed.
jaehyun didn’t answer right away. he leaned back in his chair, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, watching you. but there was tension under his cool expression, the kind that coiled in his jaw.
“you’re my girlfriend” he said, voice low, measured. “even if we have to act like colleagues in this building, you’re not just anyone to me.”
your breath caught. not because of what he said—because of the way he said it. with that sharp, quiet certainty, like it wasn’t up for debate.
“you’re jealous,” you muttered, trying to smile, to turn it into something lighter.
“of course i’m jealous,” he said, leaning forward. “he’s new, he’s charming, and he’s looking at you like he already knows what you taste like.”
your face flushed.
you looked away, but only for a second.
because when you met his eyes again, he stood.
in two strides he was in front of you, taking the laptop gently from your knees and setting it on the coffee table without a word. then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you—deep, slow, and hungry. there was nothing tentative about it. it wasn’t sweet or shy. it was possession, poured soft and molten through the shape of his mouth on yours. you sighed into it, hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulse thudding in your throat.
he pulled away just enough to speak, voice rough. “don’t tease me about this.”
you nodded, breathless. “okay.”
and then he kissed you again.
the kiss tasted like all the things you weren’t allowed to say out loud. frustration. longing. the ache of pretending, day after day, that you were only what the world let you be. his thumb stroked your jaw as his mouth opened against yours, deeper now, slower. you felt your knees weaken and your thoughts scatter, all logic melting into the heat of the moment.
that night, like every night since the start of your secret, you met him outside the office. his car waited at the edge of the lot, tinted windows and the soft thump of quiet music playing through the speakers. you slid into the passenger seat, your heart already dancing.
this time, he didn’t say hello.
he reached over and kissed you—harder than before, lips parting yours in a way that made your body sing. the car wasn’t moving. neither of you were thinking. you kissed like it was all you knew how to do. mouths hungry, breath shallow, his hand tracing the edge of your thigh just enough to make you gasp. every time you pulled away for air, he followed. every time he groaned into your kiss, you shivered.
he never rushed.
never crossed that line you hadn’t yet spoken about.
but you felt how close it hovered. just under the skin.
and as your lips brushed his one last time before pulling back, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “i like it when you get jealous.”
his smile was crooked. dangerous.
“you better not like it too much,” he said, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, “because next time… i might not let you leave so easily.”
thursday crept in quietly, with no big plans or messages of anticipation. the city, usually loud and hungry for excitement, felt unusually tame that week—like it had spent itself on too many events, too many evenings out, too many people chasing novelty in crowded cafés and rooftop bars. maybe it was just you, though. maybe everything had started to feel dull because your world had shifted to revolve around something—someone—entirely new. and nothing outside of that circle could compare anymore.
you barely spent time in your apartment lately. always out. always in his car, in places that weren’t quite home but felt more real because he was there. so on that afternoon, with your head tilted against the cold surface of your desk and your brain spinning from spreadsheets, you blurted it out between quiet keyboard taps.
“don’t make any plans tomorrow night.”
jaehyun glanced at you from across his office, pen in hand, eyebrows drawn. “should i be worried?”
you smiled without looking up. “you’re staying over. the weekend. at my place.”
the pause was heavy. not uncomfortable, but... loaded. you didn’t dare lift your head until he spoke.
“wait—what?”
and there it was. you looked at him finally, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. he looked stunned. genuinely caught off guard.
“you heard me. pack a bag. pajamas. toothbrush. snacks. i don’t know. whatever you need to survive two days with me.”
his face went red. a deep, rich pink that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you laughed. he was thinking things.
“ya, what were you imagining?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk.
“nothing!” he defended too fast. “i just... i didn’t expect we’d be spending the weekend... alone like that. it’s not a bad thing. i like it. i like the idea. i just—i mean, we’ve been doing great. this relationship. it feels good. real. and... if it keeps going like this, who knows—maybe one day we’ll get married.”
you froze.
he didn’t say it as a joke. it was quiet. casual. but he meant it.
married.
you hadn’t thought about that in weeks. you’d been so swept up in the rush of the new—new glances, new kisses, new secret dates and stolen evenings. but that word made your heart skip, stumble, leap. it opened a future you hadn’t dared imagine.
married to jeong jaehyun. walking down an aisle. your coworkers gasping. your parents trying to stay calm. him lifting your veil. kissing you like it was the beginning of forever. sunday mornings with kids and cartoons and coffee. vacations. shared bookshelves. him waiting at the door when you got home.
you shook the image out of your head.
“you can’t just say things like that,” you whispered, barely breathing.
“why not?” he asked softly, his eyes sincere. “it’s where we’re going, right?”
friday night came like a slow exhale.
he arrived with a small black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish grin. you wore mismatched pajamas—striped pants and a faded hoodie from a school club you barely remembered joining. the sight of you like that made him laugh, and the sound was so unguarded it made your chest ache with affection.
you stayed in. ordered too much food. picked a cheesy rom-com that made you cry halfway through. he kept making sarcastic comments at first, trying to pretend he didn’t care, until somewhere in the middle he got quiet. his hand found yours under the blanket, warm and steady. when the credits rolled, your head was on his shoulder and your eyes were puffy.
“i hate that you made me cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face.
“i didn’t make you cry. blame julia roberts,” he said, kissing the top of your head.
the rest of the night blurred. an improvised dinner of instant noodles and wine, soft music from your phone speaker, him dancing stupidly in the kitchen with a wooden spoon, trying to make you laugh. and you did. hard. the kind of laugh that made you forget to be careful.
when it got late, and the lights dimmed, the kisses came back. slow. long. searching. his hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, breathing each other in like you were afraid to stop. the heat built, like always, but neither of you pushed further. it wasn’t time. not yet. but god, it was close.
saturday was lazy and warm and beautiful.
you woke up tangled in the blankets, his arm draped over your stomach, his breath soft against your neck. the kind of morning you never thought you’d get to have—where nothing was urgent, and everything felt right.
you took turns in the shower, argued over who finished the milk, and spent an hour sitting on the floor flipping through old photo albums you’d forgotten you had. you didn’t plan to show him—but he insisted. and once he started looking, he didn’t stop.
“wait... this is you in high school?” he asked, pointing at a photo.
“yeah,” you said, embarrassed. “why?”
“you were so cute.”
you rolled your eyes. “i wasn’t popular or anything. i had one boyfriend. lasted a week.”
he stared. “a week?”
“he said i was too uptight and boring.”
jaehyun’s mouth dropped open. “that guy was an idiot.”
you laughed. “no, he was probably right. i’ve always been... structured. controlled. even back then. guess that’s why i’m like this now—such a workaholic.”
he didn’t laugh. instead, he kept looking at your photo—finger brushing over the glossy paper like it meant something.
“if i had met you back then,” he said quietly, “i would’ve fallen in love with you. no doubt.”
your breath caught.
he didn’t look away. “i wouldn’t have let you go. not for a second.”
“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, unsure what else to say.
“i do,” he said, firm. “you’re not boring. you’re brilliant. you’re thoughtful. you see things no one else sees. you work harder than anyone i know. and... you make me want to be better.”
tears pricked your eyes again. not from sadness. just—too much emotion. too much truth.
“you’re going to make me cry again,” you whispered.
“then cry,” he said, pulling you close. “but only if you let me hold you through it.”
the rest of the weekend passed like a dream.
grocery runs in sweatpants. a half-burnt attempt at making pancakes. arguments over which playlist was better for cleaning the kitchen. you wore ridiculous socks with cartoons on them. he made fun of you until you found his even worse ones.
you kissed between chores. kissed while brushing your teeth. kissed while folding laundry.
it wasn’t glamorous.
but it felt like home.
and when sunday night came, and he packed his bag again, you didn’t want him to go. not because of the sex, or the thrill, or the high of newness. but because somewhere between instant noodles and high school photos, you realized something terrifying and beautiful—
you were falling in love.
for real.
for the first time.
towards the end of the month, your phone rings. you’re in your apartment, folding laundry with the window cracked open to let in the soft breeze of early summer. the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, painting everything in golden hues. you glance at the caller id and feel a knot tighten in your stomach. mom.
you answer.
“it’s your father’s birthday this weekend,” she says, skipping greetings as always, her voice a mix of cheerful anticipation and subtle reprimand. “you should come visit. he’s been asking if we’ll see you.”
you agree, almost without thinking, but then comes the dreaded question.
“and? have you found a boyfriend yet or do i need to talk to mrs. lee again?”
you rub your temple. “mom—”
“her son is still single, you know. owns a good piece of land. sells vegetables to that big food corporation. you’d be set for life.”
you exhale deeply, eyes closing in frustration.
“i’m… i’m seeing someone.”
a pause. then her voice lights up like fireworks. “you are? oh, this is wonderful! finally, you’re not wasting away alone up there in that office job.”
“mom, we’ve just started seeing each other,” you say, hesitating. “it’s too soon to—”
“no,” she cuts in firmly. “you don’t have time to be unsure. the train is about to leave the station, sweetheart. you either get on or it’s gone. bring him. we want to meet him.”
before you can argue, the call ends with a clipped goodbye, and you’re left staring at your phone, pulse racing and chest tight.
the rest of the week, you feel like a ghost of yourself. distracted at work, distant on your dates with jaehyun, your mind spinning in loops. he notices immediately—of course he does—and it only takes one missed joke and a quiet dinner for him to call you out on it.
you’re sitting across from him, poking at your food. the restaurant is softly lit, cozy, but there’s a distance in your eyes.
“y/n,” he says, setting his chopsticks down. “what’s going on?”
“nothing,” you mutter, but he leans in.
“don’t give me that. we’re together now, remember? you can talk to me. or… if you’re second guessing this… if i’m moving too fast, just tell me. i can handle it.”
your heart aches at his words. you reach across the table, grabbing his hand.
“it’s not that. i’m not doubting us,” you say quietly. “it’s just… my mom called. she wants me to visit this weekend for my dad’s birthday. and she… kind of expects me to bring you.”
he blinks. then, without hesitation, he says, “okay. then i’ll come.”
you blink right back. “wait, seriously?”
“yes. if it means that much to them—and to you—I want to go. i want to meet your family, y/n. it feels right.”
your chest swells with something warm and terrifying. you nod, silently.
friday comes and your suitcase is zipped and ready by the door. you’re wearing a floral summer dress, light and breezy, with your favorite pair of nude heels that make your legs look longer than they are. your hair is pinned loosely, lip tint soft and rosy. there’s a nervous flutter in your chest when you step outside.
jaehyun is already waiting beside his car, leaning casually against it like he belongs in a photoshoot. he’s in cream linen pants and a sage green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open at the throat. his sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, and he looks, frankly, too good to be standing in your quiet little street. you gulp.
“need help with those?” he says with a grin, reaching for your bags before you can answer.
the ride is filled with music, laughter, and long, thoughtful silences. the kind that don't feel awkward, but full. pregnant with meaning. he holds your hand on the highway, thumb stroking the back of it lazily, his warmth anchoring you through your nerves.
when you pull up to your parents' house—a modest home with stone finishings and a neat little front garden—your heart thunders. everything feels smaller, more fragile, like stepping back in time. your mom rushes out first, apron still tied around her waist, eyes wide and wet with excitement.
and when she sees jaehyun? she nearly cries. “you’re real,” she says, pressing her hands together like she’s witnessing a miracle. your dad comes out next, chuckling as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.
“so this is the young man,” he says with a knowing nod, clapping jaehyun on the back. “your mother hasn’t shut up about you since she found out.”
inside, the dining table is set with your dad’s favorite dishes. everything smells like memory. you sit in the living room afterward, your parents across from you, jaehyun beside you on the couch, close enough to feel his knee brushing yours.
he speaks up first, voice calm and clear.
“i just want to say that i’m very serious about your daughter,” he says. “i have genuine intentions. we’re still getting to know each other, but… if things keep going the way they are, i’d like to build a future with her.”
your mother gasps, reaching for a tissue. your father nods slowly, visibly moved.
“this… this is the best birthday gift i could ask for,” he says.
you shrink into the couch, cheeks burning, while jaehyun’s hand finds yours again and squeezes gently.
then comes the chaos.
your older brother, baekhyun, bursts through the door with his wife and two kids in tow. he takes one look at you and smirks.
“who’s the guy and what have you done with my perpetually single little sister?”
you groan. “shut up, baek.”
the two of you bicker like teenagers, tossing playful insults back and forth while your nephews cling to your legs, shouting your name with delight. you hand them the toys you brought and their eyes light up like it’s christmas.
jaehyun watches it all, amused, until one of the boys climbs into his lap and hands him a toy too.
he freezes.
and in that moment, something shifts in him. the sound of children’s laughter, the image of you with a soft smile, cradling one of your nephews in your arms. the warmth of this home, the love in every corner. he imagines it—having this with you. kids with your eyes. a house that’s yours. your framed wedding photo on the wall. vacations. birthdays. late-night talks in bed. wrinkles and silver hair, but still loving you with the same fire.
he blushes.
and you notice.
“what?” you whisper as you lean close.
he shakes his head, smiling to himself. “nothing. just… i really, really like this. all of it.”
the night unfolds gently. dinner turns into stories, stories into laughter, and soon the sun has long set and the house is lit with warm yellow lights. you and jaehyun sit outside for a moment, watching the stars.
he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.
“you feel like home,” you whisper, not even realizing the words have slipped out.
he turns to look at you, eyes soft. “so do you.”
and in the quiet, with the cicadas singing and the echo of your family’s voices drifting from inside, you know.
this might just be the beginning of everything.
the month of july passed by with little to no complications. your parents were pleased with jaehyun, and you could tell that their approval meant the world to him. jungwoo, on the other hand, was playful and teasing, but with a newfound sense of respect, especially as jaehyun started to show more signs of being protective, making sure that jungwoo didn’t cross any boundaries. you were still professional with everyone at work, but the chemistry between you and jaehyun was undeniable. nights together were spent laughing, and weekends were filled with stolen moments of joy, where you both shared something more than just professional courtesy.
jaehyun had made a habit of calling you during the day, just to check on you, and you found yourself doing the same. the conversations were simple, but they felt important. visits to his office became more frequent, sometimes just for work, but other times, it was an excuse to sneak in a kiss or two. the passion between you two continued to build, a slow, steady fire that became increasingly hard to ignore.
one night, a wednesday, you both ignored the weather forecast and decided to take your date out in the city. the air was warm, and the lights of the city sparkled as you walked the streets together. the mood was light, but as midnight approached, the weather took a sharp turn. dark clouds rolled in, and soon, rain began to pour, turning into a violent storm. the wind howled, and the streets quickly flooded. jaehyun’s car struggled against the force of the water, and you couldn’t help but grip the seat, anxious.
jaehyun tried to keep calm, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “it’s okay, nothing’s going to happen,” he said, though you could tell he was also feeling the weight of the storm.
the rain pounded against the windows, and the car barely moved as the currents began to grow stronger. after what felt like an eternity, you both agreed that waiting in the car wasn’t safe anymore. as you both discussed where to go, a motel appeared in front of you. it seemed like an odd choice, but the parking lot was dry, and there were few other options at that hour. both of you hesitated, unsure of what to do. it was a strange situation—neither of you wanted to suggest anything that could be misinterpreted.
jaehyun was the one to break the silence. “let’s just use the parking lot, at least we’ll have shelter from the rain,” he said. “and if it lasts all night, we’ll have a warm place to stay.”
you nodded, a little nervous. “yeah, i mean, we’re not going to do anything else, right? just sleep, then in the morning, we’ll head back to our places and go to work, right?”
jaehyun smiled at you, trying to ease your nerves. “of course, just a safe place to wait out the storm. no pressure.”
you both parked and got out of the car, a little stiff from the tension, but the moment you entered the motel, things started to feel different. jaehyun took the lead, making sure you were comfortable and settled in, giving you space to breathe. He didn’t rush you, always checking to see how you felt.
both of you were tired from the day, and the weather didn’t help the situation, so after some brief, awkward glances, you both decided to take separate showers to unwind. you both changed into something more comfortable, but since it was summer and it was warm, you decided to just sleep in your underwear. when you looked at jaehyun in his, the moment felt almost surreal. his gaze lingered for a moment before he quickly turned away, as if both of you were still trying to adjust to how close you had become.
“you know,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, “you don’t have to feel awkward. we’re taking things at our own pace.”
you smiled, feeling your heartbeat quicken at the sound of his voice. “what if i want to go faster?” you said, your words surprising even yourself.
jaehyun looks at you, eyes widening slightly before they darken with something deeper—something he’s clearly been holding back. “are you sure?” he asks, voice low, almost trembling with restraint.
you nod, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against his bare chest. “i’m sure.”
his hands find your waist gently at first, testing the waters, but when you lean into him, he pulls you in like he’s been waiting forever to hold you like this. his lips find yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens, hungry and needing. he walks you backwards slowly until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp, taking him with you.
his hands roam your body, reverent and slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. he whispers your name against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still. your breath hitches when his mouth lingers between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for any sign to stop—but you nod again, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding him closer.
what he gives you isn’t rushed. it’s worship. like he’s been dreaming of this moment for too long to waste it. you lose yourself in the rhythm of his mouth, the way he listens to your body, adjusting, teasing, giving. he doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking and your voice is broken with moans you couldn’t hold back.
when he finally crawls back up your body, his lips kiss yours again, slower this time, tasting you. he whispers, “still okay?” and you nod, pulling him closer.
when he slides into you, it’s not hurried or careless. it’s deep, slow, and overwhelming in the best way. you cling to him, breathless, as your bodies move together like they were made to. he holds your gaze, foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sticking in the summer heat, but neither of you care.
you whisper his name like a prayer, and he answers with yours, over and over, like he’s trying to brand it into the moment.
you fall apart in his arms, not once, but twice, and he follows soon after, burying his face in your neck as he trembles against you.
his lips are still on yours when he pushes deeper inside you, and this time, there’s no hesitation. your body arches under him, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming all at once. he fills you slowly, inch by inch, like he wants to feel every reaction he pulls from you.
“fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out, forehead resting against yours. “been thinking about this for so long.”
you moan softly, nails dragging down his back as he starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips into you with precision that makes your legs tremble. he kisses down your throat, biting softly at your skin as he picks up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. the headboard taps gently against the wall, a quiet rhythm that matches the sound of your breathy moans and his soft, low groans.
your fingers clutch the sheets, the pleasure building with every thrust. jaehyun’s hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, and the new angle has you gasping his name, your voice breaking. he doesn’t stop—he can’t stop—lost in the feel of you, the sounds you make, the way your body clings to his like it’s the only place it belongs.
he pulls out just enough to see the way you take him, watching your slick coat his length before sliding back in with a filthy, wet sound that makes your toes curl. “look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes locked on yours. “so fucking beautiful like this.”
when he shifts, propping one of your legs over his shoulder, the angle has you crying out, your whole body shuddering. “you’re so deep,” you whimper, and he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, chasing both your highs like a man starved.
your climax hits hard—white-hot and blinding—as your walls clamp down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. he cums with a strangled moan, burying himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he spills into you. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing heavy, hearts pounding in sync.
after a few moments, he pulls out slowly, carefully, kissing your shoulder as he lies beside you and pulls you into his arms.
your body’s still trembling when he runs a hand down your spine, voice low and thick with affection. “think we’re still just sleeping?”
you laugh softly against his chest, lazy fingers tracing circles on his skin. “not a chance.”
he kisses the top of your head. “then let’s not sleep yet.”
and before you can even respond, he’s already kissing down your body again—because one round clearly wasn’t enough.
you barely have time to catch your breath before jaehyun’s mouth is back on your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, over your stomach. his hands roam your thighs with greedy fingers, and even though you’re still sensitive, your body responds instantly—needy, aching, already ready for him again.
“you’re still so wet,” he murmurs, spreading you open with his fingers, dragging two of them slowly through your folds. “fuck, baby… you’re dripping.”
your hips jerk when he circles your clit, light and teasing, and you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. “j-jaehyun…”
he smirks, dark eyes meeting yours as he sinks his fingers into you—slow, deep, curling just right. “you can take it, can’t you?” he says, voice thick with lust. “you want it again.”
you nod helplessly, mouth parted as your back arches off the bed. he fucks you with his fingers until you’re trembling again, begging for him, grinding down onto his hand like you can’t get enough—and you can’t.
when he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up again, there’s no patience this time. he pushes in all at once, rougher, deeper, making your breath catch in your throat. the stretch, the pressure, the heat—it’s almost too much, but you crave every second of it.
he fucks you like he owns you now, one hand on your hip, the other pressing down on your stomach so he can feel himself inside you. “you feel that?” he groans. “you’re taking all of me.”
your moans turn shameless, high-pitched and raw, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every thrust. the bed creaks, the headboard pounds against the wall, and you don’t care who hears. he flips you onto your stomach without warning, pulling your hips up, and slides back into you from behind.
you cry out at the new angle, your hands clawing at the sheets as he drives into you, deeper than before. “god—jaehyun, i’m gonna—”
“cum for me,” he growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to kiss the side of your neck. “cum all over my cock, baby.”
your orgasm hits like a shockwave, blinding and hot and overwhelming. your whole body shakes, legs giving out beneath you as he keeps fucking you through it. he follows moments later, groaning your name as he fills you again, hips jerking against your ass, the sound of it all so filthy and perfect.
this time, when you collapse together on the bed, everything is soaked in sweat and heat and the scent of sex. your body is limp, your mind dazed, and he just pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he’s never letting go.
“okay,” you whisper, laughing breathlessly. “now we might need to sleep.”
he chuckles against your hair, voice rough. “maybe. after round three.”
that night at the motel changed everything.
it wasn’t just the sex—though, god, it was incredible. it was the way his hands learned your body like a second language, the way he whispered your name like a secret, the way you both let yourselves fall without fear. that night was messy, breathless, and soaked in want. but more than anything, it was a turning point—a quiet, unspoken agreement that this was no longer just something casual. not for either of you.
after that, the line between love and lust blurred beautifully. sex became part of your rhythm, part of how you communicated. stolen glances in the office turned into stolen kisses in the elevator. late nights became sleepovers, and every morning-after was filled with lazy touches and knowing smiles. you memorized each other’s moans like favorite songs, found new ways to say i want you, even when the words themselves weren’t spoken.
but there was one night that stood out. the one you still think about more than any other.
it was the night you stayed over at his apartment—just the two of you, no distractions, no storms outside, only the slow burn between your bodies. dinner turned into kisses. kisses turned into the first round on his kitchen counter, then the second in the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as your bodies tangled and slipped together like water and flame.
by the third round, it was past midnight. you were already sore, breathless, but insatiable. he pulled you back into bed, whispering things in your ear that made your skin burn. he was rougher that time—hungrier—gripping your hips as he fucked you deep and slow, drawing out every moan until your voice was hoarse and your mind was gone.
you were on top, riding him with lazy, desperate rhythm, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his chest. he looked up at you like you were something divine, his hands guiding your pace, eyes locked on the place where your bodies met.
and just when your orgasm started to hit—when everything went hot and tight and unbearably good—the words slipped out of you.
“i love you.”
your voice cracked around it, high and trembling, your body still grinding against his, your climax crashing over you like a wave. for a split second, everything stopped. you felt him freeze beneath you, heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the shock in his eyes.
you hadn’t meant to say it like that. not in the middle of fucking. not when you were bare in every sense of the word.
it was reckless. vulnerable. raw.
but not wrong.
his hands gripped your waist tighter, and then he was sitting up, arms wrapping around you, thrusting up into you so hard and deep that you sobbed out his name.
“i love you too,” he groaned against your neck. “fuck, i love you so much—too much.”
and then he came—hard and fast, holding you like he never wanted to let go.
afterward, you just lay there on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin, hearts pounding in unison. there was no awkwardness. no regret. only this strange, beautiful calm that settled over the room like dawn.
it was in that moment you realized just how deep your feelings for him ran.
what had started as a simple plan—just something to avoid growing old alone—had become the best part of your life. somewhere along the way, between the office visits and shared glances, motel rooms and quiet mornings, you had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with jaehyun.
and the craziest part?
you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anything—or anyone—else but him.
august wrapped around you like a golden ribbon, thick with heat and filled with the kind of breathless anticipation that only comes after months of hard work. the project was done—finally—after weeks of stress, endless reports, last-minute corrections and late nights. but it was done. and not just done, but successful. glowing feedback, client satisfaction, numbers that sang. it was more than you had dared to hope for.
and then—the email.
subject line: promotion confirmation.
you stared at it for a full minute before opening it. and when you read the words “congratulations, supervisor,” your breath hitched. you covered your mouth. you gasped. and then you ran.
jaehyun wasn’t even at his desk anymore, he was just walking into the hallway when you caught him. “jaehyun!” you called, your voice trembling with a kind of joy that had nowhere to go.
he turned, concerned for half a second—until he saw your face.
and then you said it.
“i got it.”
“you got what?” he blinked, confused.
“the promotion.”
his eyes widened. he froze for a second. and then—his arms were around you before you could even finish breathing. he lifted you, spinning you once, twice, both of you laughing as you clutched his shoulders and buried your face in his neck.
“oh my god, baby—you did it! i knew it, i knew you would!”
you were dizzy, and not just from the spinning. he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. everything was warm and golden and right.
he took you out that night.
you didn’t go anywhere fancy—jaehyun insisted that celebrations should be personal, not performative. so he drove you to that one little pizzeria you loved, the one that made the potato crust just the way you liked it. he ordered your usual without asking, and when the wine came, he raised his glass first.
“to you,” he said, his eyes soft and gleaming under the low light. “my brilliant, unstoppable, incredible woman.”
your heart swelled so fast it almost ached. the clink of your glasses felt like the sound of a new chapter opening.
“i’ve never had this before,” you confessed, fingers curling around the stem of your glass. “celebrating something this big. with someone i love. it feels…” you laughed, shy and overwhelmed. “it feels like everything’s different now.”
jaehyun reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it slowly.
“it is different,” he said. “because now, every good thing that happens to you—we get to celebrate it. together.”
you stared at him, your chest tight with emotion, with the kind of love that had no bottom, no edge. just more.
you leaned across the table, kissing him slow, deep, grateful. pizza between you, wine in your veins, your laughter echoing off the walls of that tiny booth.
you didn’t need fireworks.
this was better.
this was yours.
mid-september arrived with a softness that clung to the air—warm enough to feel like summer still lingered, but mellowed by the early hints of fall. the leaves hadn’t turned yet, but something in the wind carried change. maybe that’s what had been stirring inside you all week—a restless certainty that had taken root in your chest and bloomed with every kiss, every sleepy morning wrapped around each other, every whispered i love you that escaped your lips without hesitation. it had been five months, five months of chaos and clarity, of fire and softness, and you knew now—you didn’t want to wait anymore.
you wanted jaehyun. not in a month. not after careful plans. now.
so you climbed the steps to his office, heart thudding like a war drum, nerves tangled with determination. you paused outside the door, breathed once, twice, and knocked.
“come in,” his voice called, muffled behind the heavy door.
you stepped in and found him at his desk, back slightly hunched, focused on the glow of his screen. he looked up, and the moment he saw you, he smiled—that slow, dazzling smile that always made your knees feel like melted wax—and stood immediately, walking toward you without hesitation. he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it all day.
“jaehyun,” you said, voice almost trembling, more from the gravity of what you were about to say than nerves. he pulled back slightly, tilting his head.
“yeah?”
you met his eyes and, without giving yourself the chance to second-guess it, you let it fall from your lips.
“i want to marry you.”
his lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. he blinked, as if trying to be sure he heard you right.
“i know, baby,” he said, a soft chuckle lacing his words. “that was the whole deal, right? but remember—we said after november. we’d have more time to plan, get everything ready—”
“no,” you interrupted, stepping forward, clutching his hands tightly. “i don’t want to wait till november. i mean it. i want to marry you now. today, tomorrow, next week—i don’t care when or how. i just want to be yours. forever.”
he stared at you, quiet. processing. his brows drew together, and then lifted again like the meaning had just landed fully. his hands gripped yours tighter.
“but—what about the wedding? your parents, mine—”
“we’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “but this... this love we have, i don’t want to keep treating it like something that needs to be scheduled. it’s real. it’s now.”
he took a breath, deep and full. and then, his expression softened into something vulnerable and glowing—his eyes shone with something deeper than just affection. he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “you want to be my wife.”
you nodded, lips brushing his as you breathed, “more than anything.”
his thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if committing this moment to memory. “then we’ll do it. not because it’s rushed, but because we know. we’ve known. and if you want to be my wife now... then i’ll make it happen. we’ll get married. i promise.”
and he kissed you again, this time slower, as if sealing an oath between your mouths.
the proposal happened three days later.
he told you it was just a normal date—dinner, then a walk somewhere scenic. no pressure. he even played it off by wearing something casual: a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, soft beige slacks, and the cleanest pair of loafers you’d ever seen. he looked devastatingly handsome without trying.
he picked you up and drove toward the edge of the city, toward the river trail where the summer festivals were usually held. the area was quiet now, early autumn having driven the crowds away. but fairy lights still dangled from the trees, twinkling faintly as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, honeyed hue over everything.
he walked with you along the wooden path, your fingers tangled. his hand was slightly clammy. you noticed, and your heart fluttered, thinking—he’s nervous. the realization made you giddy.
and then, just as you reached the little bridge that overlooked the water, he stopped.
“wait here,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “don’t move.”
he jogged a few steps ahead, ducked behind a low fence near a cluster of trees, and returned with a bouquet of peonies—your favorite. you hadn’t told him that. he remembered.
your eyes began to water.
he handed them to you, smiling shyly, and then pulled something out of his pocket.
a velvet box.
he opened it without a speech, without fanfare. his voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours like the world outside didn’t exist.
“you already said yes,” he whispered. “but i want to do this right.”
he got down on one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him, and held the ring up.
“y/n, will you marry me—not next month, not in theory, not in some future we’re still trying to picture... but now. for real. because i’m yours. and you’re mine.”
you didn’t cry. you sobbed. like an idiot. like a girl who had waited her whole life for someone like him. you nodded so fast your vision blurred and fell into his arms, and he kissed you like he was promising you the rest of forever.
in that moment, september never felt sweeter.
telling the company was a whole thing.
it started with a scheduled meeting—a weekly operations check-in with the usual suspects: team leads, upper management, the supervisor, and a couple of sharp-eyed executives who never missed a detail. it was jaehyun’s idea to make it official at work, to do it clean and direct and proudly. no rumors. no hiding. just the truth, glowing and solid like the ring that now lived permanently on your finger.
you both walked into the meeting room together, which wasn’t unusual, but something in the way your hands brushed as you took your seat already had jungwoo giving you the side-eye.
the presentation started, charts and projections lighting up the screen behind jaehyun as he stood with calm confidence. it was business as usual—until the last slide.
"before we wrap up," he said, glancing back at the room, his eyes finding yours briefly before turning to the group again, "i have one personal announcement to make."
you swallowed. jungwoo leaned forward like a damn hawk. mr. choi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he'd been waiting for this moment since spring.
jaehyun smiled—soft, boyish, unbothered. “as some of you may know… or have guessed," he said, and gave jungwoo a teasing look that made him gasp, "i knew it," he muttered dramatically—"y/n and i have been seeing each other for a while.”
the room exploded. a gasp from the secretary and the supervisor actually choked on his coffee. someone in the back whispered “what the fuck” under their breath.
jaehyun held up a hand, a little smug, a little amused.
“and, as of last weekend… we’re engaged.”
your cheeks were burning. your heart thundered. you expected chaos, maybe disapproval, but what followed was—
cheering. clapping. wide eyes and stunned smiles. even mr. choi looked like he was trying very hard not to grin.
“you’re marrying jaehyun? our jaehyun?” he blinked at her, then looked at jaehyun like he’d just discovered a double life. “okay, i knew something was going on. i’m not blind. but marriage? dude, that’s insane. like, insane in the good way, but—holy shit.”
you stood up, feeling brave. “we just didn’t want to hide it anymore,” you said. “we’re really happy. and we hope you’ll be happy for us too.”
the room burst into applause again. someone shouted, “wedding invites or we riot!”
the parents came next.
you visited your family first. your mom opened the door and immediately noticed the ring. she gasped, dropped the dish towel she was holding, and squealed in that way only mothers can. within seconds, your dad was there too, grinning, eyes glossy, holding jaehyun’s shoulder like he was already part of the family.
"are you kidding me," your mom kept saying. "you're engaged? oh my god, you're engaged!"
you nodded, trying not to cry as she hugged you so tight it hurt.
“he’s everything i ever wanted for you,” your dad told you quietly, before giving jaehyun a very serious handshake. “you take care of her.”
“always,” jaehyun promised, voice thick with sincerity.
then it was his parents' turn.
you were more nervous, but you shouldn’t have been. the moment jaehyun’s mom saw you, she pulled you into a hug, muttering in korean how beautiful you were, how she’d been praying her son would be smart enough to not let you go. his dad was more reserved, but the sparkle in his eye said everything. when jaehyun said, “we’re getting married,” his mother clapped her hands and screamed like she’d just won the lottery.
“we’re so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “you are already family.”
they brought out food, wine, photos from jaehyun’s childhood. his mom made you take home a tupperware of kimchi and a crocheted doily she claimed she made for whoever he married one day. she said she just had a feeling it was going to be you, and jaehyun turned red.
it turned out that weddings—real weddings—took a lot more time to plan than y/n had expected. even with jaehyun’s calming presence and the help of a surprisingly competent wedding planner, the months passed like petals falling from a tree: softly, quickly, too beautifully to hold onto.
they settled on march 28. it gave them just enough time to breathe, to build, to dream together.
from the moment they told everyone—first their friends, then their families, and finally, in a hilariously formal email, the entire company—the whirlwind began. the announcement caused a stir so loud in the office that y/n had to leave her desk just to get some peace.
the directivos were equally shocked, though mostly amused.
her supervisor just nodded sagely, like he’d been betting on this since the beginning.
“you two were always ‘too in sync’,” he said, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “i give it six months before one of you becomes the other's boss at home too.”
and then came the parents.
jaehyun’s mother cried when she met y/n, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her tight and whispered in korean, “you’re even more beautiful than he said. and i knew he was in love the first time he said your name.”
her own parents, after recovering from the initial shock, became obsessively involved in the planning, sending flower samples, playlist suggestions, and opinions on wedding favors at all hours of the day.
but none of it was overwhelming. not with jaehyun there, always pulling her back into calm. always making sure this was their wedding, not anyone else’s.
they chose a venue outside the city—a small vineyard with soft hills, blooming wisteria, and golden light that melted everything it touched. march 28 arrived with the scent of earth and lilac, a warm wind, and the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.
y/n stood before a mirror in a white gown that made her feel like everything good in the world had been sewn together just for her. she could hear the quiet rustle of guests arriving, the soft music playing in the distance, the laughter of children running between the rows of flowers.
and then, jaehyun.
when she saw him waiting at the altar, dressed in a suit that fit like second skin, with his hair slightly tousled and a look in his eyes that could undo galaxies—she forgot how to breathe.
he mouthed “you’re perfect” as she walked down the aisle.
she mouthed “you’re mine.”
the ceremony was intimate, emotional, wrapped in vows that made everyone cry—even jungwoo, who tried to play it off by pretending he had allergies.
“i promise to protect your dreams as fiercely as my own,” jaehyun said, voice trembling slightly, “and to always make sure your pizza has the right amount of potato crust, even when we’re eighty.”
“i promise to choose you, even on the days we forget how lucky we are,” y/n replied, tears in her eyes. “and to never let the fire between us die, even when we’re old and gray.”
they kissed.
and the world felt new again.
their first dance was under strings of fairy lights, barefoot on the grass. the song was soft, a slow jazz tune that jaehyun had played for her once in the car when she’d been crying. now, with her head against his chest, they swayed like the wind had been made just for them.
“we did it,” she whispered.
“we did,” he said. “and i’d marry you again tomorrow if i could.”
the honeymoon came a few days later. they chose santorini, greece, not for the postcard beauty or luxury, but because y/n had once told him, offhandedly, that she always dreamed of watching the sun melt into the sea from a white rooftop. he remembered.
their suite was perched on a cliff, overlooking the caldera, with white walls and blue domes and windows that opened to eternity. the first night, they sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine, their feet touching, their hands always searching for each other.
they kissed under sunsets and made love under stars.
they danced in narrow streets, shared kisses between sips of ouzo, fed each other olives and sweet baklava.
they were ridiculous. and in love. and utterly themselves.
“this is the life i want,” y/n whispered one night, tangled in cotton sheets, her cheek against his chest.
“then it’s the life we’ll have,” jaehyun said. “forever.”
and this time, forever didn’t sound like a fairytale.
it sounded like a promise.
three years passed like chapters in a love letter—written slowly, lived fully.
you and jaehyun made a home out of a sleek little apartment tucked into the rhythm of the city. it was all black wood and soft gray, velvet cushions and open windows where sunlight poured in like gold. it wasn’t big, but it held your whole world. your toothbrushes leaned against each other. your shoes tangled by the door. your laughter lived in the walls.
mornings were sleepy and soft—coffee mugs clinking, your legs wrapped around his under the kitchen table, newspaper pages ignored in favor of each other’s eyes. nights were even softer—blankets twisted around you, movie soundtracks playing in the background while your fingers danced across his skin. the kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures—just the warmth of his palm on your thigh and the way he said “come here” like home itself.
but then, one evening, the quiet changed.
you were in the bathroom. pacing. heart in your throat. your phone timer ticked like thunder in the silence. the test rested on the sink, small and still—like it held the weight of the universe. you sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled up, trying to breathe.
when the timer stopped, you moved like you were underwater. slow. hesitant. scared.
two pink lines.
you stared. blinked. stared again.
your lips parted, the shape of a whisper you couldn’t form. your hands trembled, and for a moment, the whole world tilted—just you and that tiny piece of plastic and everything it now meant.
you stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, holding the test like it might shatter.
jaehyun was on the couch, lounging with his phone, one leg bent lazily, hair tousled from running his hand through it too many times. he looked up. paused. frowned softly. “baby… what is it?”
you didn’t answer right away. just walked toward him—slow, like the floor might disappear—and placed the test in his hand.
“we’re gonna be parents!!”
the silence cracked. and then—
jaehyun surged forward, arms wrapping around you so tight you gasped. he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around the living room like a kid on christmas morning, laughter bursting from his chest, from yours, from some place deep inside where all the hope had been hiding.
you were both crying. laughing. kissing. saying “we did it!” over and over again like a prayer you never thought you’d get to say out loud. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking, “we’re having a baby.”
“we’re having our baby,” you whispered.
months passed like petals falling from a blooming tree.
you were glowing. exhausted, but glowing.
your blush-pink maternity dress clung gently to your growing belly, printed with tiny white florals that made jaehyun smile every time he saw you in it. your feet were bare, your ankles swollen, your back ached constantly—but he was always there, hands rubbing your spine, lips on your shoulder, whispering, “you’re magic, you know that?”
the nursery was nearly finished—lavender walls painted with care, gold stars twinkling on the ceiling, and a soft mobile that played lullabies like stardust. the crib waited, delicate and perfect, with a plush bunny nestled in the corner.
jaehyun was kneeling by the dresser, sweat on his brow, tongue between his teeth as he finished the final drawer. he looked up, eyes finding you immediately, and god—he looked at you like the whole sky lived inside your smile.
“she’s gonna love this room,” he said, standing to press a hand to your belly. his palm warm. grounding. full of quiet awe. “our little moon.”
you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “i hope she gets your eyes,” you whispered.
he smiled, eyes soft with wonder. “and your heart,” he murmured. “especially your heart.”
the room went quiet again—except for the soft hum of the mobile spinning slowly above the crib. gold stars turned, catching the light.
and in that moment, just one suspended, breathless moment, everything was still.
tries really hard to keep you as happy as possible, tries to give you what you need. he knows what you’re like, you hate edging and not getting what you want, a real princess. never denied of anything you want. 7 boyfriends all babying you and giving in to your pout and whining. when he’s busy you just huff and find someone else, immediately. but today he really needs you, needs his pretty girl to sit on his dick after he’s finished writing his paper, but you’re not having it, you’re trying to push past him but he’s pushing you back to sit on the bed or grabbing your arm when you try and walk past his desk. “you’re real impatient you know that? i just have to finish this, then you can have all the dick you want” “or i could have all the dick i want right now, no waiting” “30 minutes is not going to kill you, just sit down and touch yourself if you’re that desperate” you roll your eyes and try and walk past him again, expecting to leave and go to someone else’s room, his hand coming up to stop you again, this time wrapping around your throat, squeezing a little. “beds that way baby” “markie…” “sit down and touch yourself, if i hear any complaining, you’re not gonna cum, i promise you”. you sit on the bed now, hands down your pants, but nothing feels as good as what mark has for you, you whine when your fingers can’t reach that spot, but you don’t tell mark how frustrating it is, watching him, his back turned to you again, typing away. he hears your tailored breathing and little moans. after he’s done, spent ages perfecting his final draft, pushing off his seat and turning to you, laid out fingers wet and pruned a little. “good girl, see? told you you could wait”
renjun:
doesn’t care for your attitude one bit, if you try and get under his skin, boasting about how anyone else would give you what you want he’s definitely not letting you cum, telling the others to do the same. you wanna play that game? you want to think you can walk all over him? use your other boyfriends against him? baby you are going to be edged and edged until you can’t breathe, can’t speak, can only beg out for him. he likes to remind you the most that although you are their princess, they would do anything to keep you happy, as soon as you start acting too big for your boots, they can have you however they want you, fully in control of your body and if it gets relief. “junnie if you won’t fuck me i can just ask someone else, jisung will let me cum” “yeah? jisung gonna make you cum? not if i lock you in this room and don’t let him in he won’t, so you gonna apologise for what you said, let me make you feel good, or are you gonna keep being a brat? because i would hate to have to tie you up and make you suffer princess” hums happily when you give up, knowing he’s not lying, leaning into his chest and mumbling out a sorry before his hands are holding your face, kissing you softly “good answer, now suck me off real nice and i’ll see if you’ve earned it”
jeno:
despite his tough exterior, he really isn’t as strong as people think he is, when you’re being a brat he just lets someone else punish you for it, he hasn’t got it in him, he needs you just as much as you need him. and you take full advantage of his kindness, definitely mistaking it for a weakness. very rarely does he have a backbone, but when he’s telling you no, pushing you back just to tease you, a game he likes to play, but today you’re not having it, believing his rejection, your hand comes up and slaps him across the face, smirking at his shocked expression. “that’s for rejecting me jeno, maybe you will think twice next time you want your dick wet” “you wanna do this? did you seriously think i wasn’t going to have your legs over my shoulder?” “you were annoying me, just wanted to snap you out of it” “so you slapped me? all cause i said you weren’t getting dick?” “pretty fair if you ask me-“ he couldn’t believe you were still keeping up with your attitude. he’s pulling you over his lap, without another word. hands pulling at your shorts, bringing them past your ass, one leg locking yours down so you can’t kick off of him. his big hands immediately coming down on your skin hard. palms cracking over the skin of your ass making you jolt and yelp. he’s never spanked you like this before, only while he’s hitting it from the back, he’s landing playful spanks to your ass, now something more punishing and unforgiving. “how’d you like it? huh?” “nono! it’s sore! please!” “yeah i bet it is baby, gonna make sure you can’t sit for a week, ass numb, reminder not to fucking slap me again, not over dick” and boy does he, spanks you like that, some of the others coming in to ask what the noise is all about, and he tells them of your little slap. it didn’t hurt him, of course it didn’t, but he can’t let you think that hitting him will get you what you want. all of them in agreement not to let you cum after hitting jeno the way you did, for as long as it takes for you to apologise properly. only after you grovel and beg to him to forgive you a week later, with no sex, letting him fuck your throat like a cock sleeve, does he and the others forgive you.
haechan:
he’s the one who gives you the attitude. always mocking you and riling you up when you ask him to fuck you, speaking to you in a whiney baby voice, drawing your begging out as long as possible. he really loves hearing you beg. likes the fight you put up for him, pulling this arm and blushing, humiliated and embarrassed at his mockery. he’ll have you sit naked in front of him, legs spread, cunt exposed to him. “why are you covering your face? i can see that pussy is wet from all my teasing baby, just beg a little more for me” you shake your head no “cmon baby, just say please, lemme hear you say it, copy me, please channie, fuck my sloppy cunt, please so desperate for you need your cock to fill me up” you cry at his tone of voice and choice of words, you know he’s not going to touch you unless you say them verbatim, small voice shakily repeating the plea “i couldn’t hear you sweet thing, speak up” you slap your hands against the bed, desperately pleading with your tear filled eyes. “say it” you say it again, louder, and he keeps making you repeat it, over and over. after he’s got you practically shouting it for him does he give you what you want. “god baby, so fucking needy, all that begging just for me?”
jaemin:
god he hates denying his princess, more than anything, but he can and will if your attitude gets bigger than you. you’re tiny compared to all of them, he doesn’t understand why you think you could have them bending to your every need, all you have to do is ask nicely and they will have you creaming and screaming all night. so when you start rolling your eyes and pushing his buttons he manhandles you, has you on all fours, leaning over you, almost all his weight on your back, arm wrapped around your neck in a headlock, not tight, just holding your head up. cock teasing your entrance, rubbing it up and down through your folds. “gonna have a attitude? or gonna let me push in?” “p-push in…” “hm? have an attitude did you say?” “no! nana please, i’m sorry, push in please i can’t take it, im sorry please, i’ll be good” “that’s what i like to hear baby, don’t forget your manners again” he’s pushing in, drilling into you, his hold on you is strong and he keeps you in place. lets you cum over his dick but he pulls out and cums over his hand, jerking himself off to finish, you whine and ask why he won’t let you have his cum. “oh come on sweetheart, after all that lip earlier? really think you deserved it?” doesn’t let you lick him clean, taking himself off to the bathroom to wash his release off his palms, smiling wickedly at your pout when he returns. “if you’re good, next time it’s all yours”
chenle:
he is an evil sadist at times. when you’ve acted up for him he’s cuffing you to the bed, vibrator tied with rope to your thigh angled right on your clit. he knows you love touching him, jerking or sucking him off, love having the heavy weight of him inside you or in your hand always. so his punishment is to deny you of him, not orgasms, you cry and thrash as the vibrator hums against you relentlessly, pulling on your cute little cuffs trying to reach out and touch him, he’s completely naked, sitting on the other end of the bed, out of reach, not even your feet can reach him. “fuck baby i’m so pent up too, such a shame it’s gonna go to waste, if only you weren’t such a whiney little thing, all of this could’ve been avoided, no one to blame but yourself” “lele! please i need it! want it so bad! please let me touch you! i’ll be good, won’t do it again” “oh is that right sweetheart? i’m sure you won’t, not after watching me waste all this cum”. you cry and watch as he brings himself to orgasm over and over without you, he lets you cum with the vibrator, turning it off right before his release so you can only focus on him. doesn’t care if it ruins one of yours. then when he starts to jerk himself again he turns the you back on. you could go at this for hours with chenle, his stamina and sadism have no limits.
jisung:
he is quiet and precise with his punishments, if you’ve been a brat, he’s quietly fingering you and toying with your clit mindlessly, laying against him as he overstimulates you. he doesn’t speak, usually just scrolls on his phone with his free hand or watching tv, you’re soaked and have came god knows how many times, begging for his attention as well as his fingers, he is so cold, ignoring you as you cum, fingers just working against you in silence. whenever you try and move to face him, his hand is pushing you back into place, if you try and touch him he’s cuffing your hands, if you try and get away, he’s using his belt and wrapping it around your waist and clasping it around one of his belt loops so you can’t move far from him. only when you’re really crying and begging, he pulls his fingers out and lets you taste yourself on him. “gonna keep that attitude up?” “no… i’m sorry” “good girl, just lay down, i’m here” he’s holding you close as you shake against his chest.
❯ summary: Jisung hates flying—but the hot flight attendant in the blue uniform is making him rethink that opinion. Especially when you’re on your knees for him.
❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader
❯ genre: strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut
❯ words: 4.1k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, slight objectification, pervy jisung, making out, blow jobs, deep throating, nipple sucking, protected sex, edging, quickie, spit, restraints, sloppy sex, dirty talk, public sex, switch!jisung, switch!reader, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just jisung joining the mile high club ✈️
Jisung hates travel days.
They’re long. They’re loud. They’re lined with fans and cameras and—like clockwork—he, somehow, ends up being the only member flagged at the metal detector when he arguably wears the least amount of jewellery.
Not to mention, he just generally hates flying, overall. The food’s bland, Chenle never shuts up, his ears pop, he can never seem to sleep—
Holy shit.
Everything in his mind stutters to a stop.
Because as he sits in this godforsaken terminal, waiting for whatever flight to whatever city he’s supposed to be touring in tonight, Jisung sees you.
An air hostess. In a blue uniform that fits like it was sewn directly onto your body. The kind of fit that’s carved to torment him. The kind of fit that makes him shift in his seat—subtly—because the last thing he needs is to trend on Twitter for pitching a tent in his sweats. Not when the first thing he needs is your name.
“Damn,” Chenle whistles, low and filthy. “I love flying sometimes.”
“You’re gross,” Jisung says, coughing. He shoves Chenle’s shoulder.
Chenle groans, biting into his sandwich, “Hey! That’s rich coming from the man who’s popping a semi right now. Have some self-control, buddy.”
“I am not—” Jisung cuts in, sucking in a sharp breath, because apparently oxygen might help him come up with a defence. It doesn’t.
Chenle grins, all teeth. “Sure you’re not.”
Before Jisung can land a half-decent comeback, the gate agent calls their flight. He stands, shoving his boarding pass into his hoodie pocket, falling into the slow shuffle toward the counter. Chenle is still talking—(he told you his friend doesn’t shut up)—as Jisung hands over his passport. The attendant scans it without sparing a glance.
More of Chenle’s talking. Jisung’s not entirely sure what about—something to do with a new playlist he’s curating with Mark, then what restaurant they’re going to check out tonight, then his idea for a podcast “because the world deserves a Chenji This and Chat.”
When he steps onto the plane, and makes his way towards the back, Chenle, being the menace that he is, sidesteps Jisung to slide into the window seat.
“You got it last time,” he says, like a sibling arguing over the shotgun seat on the school run.
Jisung doesn’t care. He rolls his eyes, shoves his bag into the overhead bin, and drops into the aisle seat. Chenle’s mouth is already moving again.
He leans back in the window seat and smirks, “What do you think joining the Mile High Club is like, anyway?”
Jisung turns. “Dude, I don’t know because I haven’t had sex on a plane—”
A deliberate, polite ahem cuts through the row.
Jisung freezes as be looks up.
You’re standing there in that uniform—blue skirt, thin shirt, sheer tights, silk scarf knotted at your neck, which has him thinking of all the ways he’d like to wind it around your wrists. Fuck. That look on your face—half-amused mixed with professional—makes him certain you’ve heard everything.
His stomach drops. His face flushes.
You tilt your head, one brow lifting the tiniest bit. “No sex on my plane, thank you, boys. You’ll have to wait until you land to see to each other’s needs.”
Jisung jerks to his feet so fast he nearly elbows Chenle. “What? No—no! That’s not.” His voice cracks like he’s fourteen again.
Chenle’s smirk, though, is pure evil. He catches Jisung’s arm, tugs him back into his seat. “Don’t worry, we will—”
“Chenle!” Jisung growls, then whips back to you. “We don’t—that’s not—we don’t fuck!”
That gets Mark and Jeno’s attention from across the aisle. Both turn, staring at them completely dumbfounded, and Jisung knows then, that this will live forever in the group chat.
Sensing the situation spiralling, you cough, crouch, and promptly drop the laminated safety cards you were here to hand out in the first place.
The pilot’s voice crackles over the speakers—‘Welcome aboard flight 739 to Tokyo… estimated flight time, six hours and forty-three minutes… cruising altitude, thirty-seven thousand feet…’
That’s your cue to start the safety demonstration.
Jisung sits there, spine stiff, cringing so hard it’s a miracle he hasn’t folded in on himself. Damn Chenle. For the first time in months, the flight attendant on a flight is hot—sexy enough to take his mind off the fact he’s trapped in a metal tube in the sky—and now he can’t even enjoy you showing him where the exits are, or how to inflate a life jacket, or what to do when the oxygen mask drops from the ceiling.
Because his mind is thinking about how the whole plane thinks he and Chenle… fuck. Or don’t fuck. He doesn’t know which is worse—being thought of as Chenle’s secret mile-high fling, or there being an environment where he has to clarify that he’s not.
Ugh.
You’re gesturing to the nearest exit, and he’s trying—trying—to keep his eyes on your hands and not your legs in those sheer tights, not the way your scarf bounces against your chest when you move.
Chenle, of course, leans over and whispers, “You’re making it worse. You look like you’re picturing her naked right now. Perv.”
“You know,” Jisung grips the armrest so he doesn’t throttle Chenle mid-takeoff, “I’m going to fucking kill you when we land.”
You wrap up the demonstration with that same professional smile, hands smoothing over your skirt before you move down the aisle to stow the props.
For about ten minutes, Jisung thinks he’s known peace. Then he remembers why he hates flying. Because he’s paired with the biggest nuisance on the planet—one who’s just decided to see how many times he can call you over purely to fuck with him.
Suddenly Chenle’s got an appetite for Pringles. And cashew nuts. And, apparently, he’s impartial to an alcoholic drink every five minutes now, too. Jisung can’t help but scowl.
But it’s when Chenle gets the bright idea to toss a packet of peanuts down the aisle that Jisung knows it’s gone too far. It’s so stupid. So rude. So disrespectful, actually. But it has you coming over to their section of the plane.
And unlike anyone else dealing with celebrities (who would find this situation so annoying and entitled), you smile. You bend down to scoop up the mess, the neckline of your shirt dipping low enough to flash a clear view of the soft curve of your tits, and you actually smile.
Jisung feels hot. It’s like the cabin’s pressure is rising—or maybe that’s just his cock. Chenle’s fist digs into his thigh then, snapping Jisung back to reality.
“Dude,” he murmurs, voice low and shameless. “I know you’re the one ogling her, but I think I might cum in my pants because she has the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”
Jisung scowls again, jaw tight, ears burning, wishing the oxygen masks would drop so he could shove one over his face and never speak to Chenle again. But he doesn’t have to wish for long because Chenle, mercifully, seems to drop it. Probably because he’s drunk himself into oblivion by now—head pressed against the window, mouth open, snoring softly.
That’s when Jisung gets his idea. To fix… whatever this is.
He glances at his Coke. No ice. And the cabin is hot, right? It’s totally okay to want ice in your drink when the plane is sweltering. (It’s definitely not because he can’t stop staring at you, replaying that smile, that bend at the waist, the perfect dip of your tits.)
He stands, stretches his long limbs casually, and makes his way to the back of the plane. You’re leaning against the counter, flipping through a glossy magazine. The lighting is low back there, warm. When you glance up, it’s with the prettiest—no, sexiest—eyes he’s ever seen.
Jisung swallows. Panics.
“I’m not gay.”
It explodes out of him—blurted too loud, too blunt, and so wildly unrelated to anything he came over to say, that he immediately wants to rip open the emergency exit and let the sky swallow him whole.
Your eyebrows lift slowly. Then you laugh, with just the slightest curve of a smile. “I know, I was just teasing about you and your buddy taking care of each other’s needs.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah.” Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “I just… wanted to clear that up.”
“It’s clear.” You close your magazine and set it on the counter. Looking up at him fully now, you say, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
The way you bite your lip when you ask has his entire body going rigid. He wants to groan. He wants to moan. To lean in. To catch that lip you're taunting him with between his teeth just to see if you’d gasp.
Instead, he coughs, “No—well… yeah.” His voice stutters over itself. “Ice. I need ice. Please.”
You take the glass from his hand, fingertips brushing his, which sparks a flash of heat from his fingers up his arm. He feels himself shivering as you plop a few cubes into his Coke, the clink loud from how silent and still he’s being.
“You know,” you murmur, handing it back, “you didn’t have to come all the way back here for that. You could’ve just pressed your attendant button.”
“I know that,” he says quickly. “But my buddy’s been asking so much of you already. Thought I’d save you the trip. In fact, the only reason I came back here was to apologise for his—”
“I thought you came back here for ice?”
“Well, yeah,” he says, blushing now, “but mainly to apologise.”
You lean one hip against the counter, smirking. “It’s okay. I didn’t mind, actually.” You step a little closer. “I’m always happy to help,” you add, voice dropping half an octave. “That’s what I’m here for… to serve my passengers.”
The word serve wraps around him, his fingers tightening around the glass just to keep them distracted from the need he has to serve you.
You shift then, leaning past him to reach for something on the counter behind. The movement makes your shoulder brush his chest, bringing you close enough for him to catch the faint trace of your perfume. Jisung feels the warmth of your skin, the soft swish of your skirt against his knee—and he knows he can’t stay distracted much longer.
Especially when you don’t straighten right away. Your lips linger near his ear, your whisper curling down his spine.
“Is there anything I could help serve you with, Jisung?”
He blinks, almost in disbelief.
Are you… coming onto him?
His mouth opens, closes. He’s floundering like a fish—words slippery, useless. You pull back to meet his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth like you already know exactly how rattled he is.
“If you need me…” You smooth your palms down the front of your uniform. Then, as if to seal the thought, you drag a single finger across your lips. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”
And then you’re gone, walking away with that easy sway of your hips, leaving him standing in the galley with a glass of Coke, a head full of static, and the very distinct, very uncomfortable realisation that he’s about thirty seconds away from making a very bad decision.
A bad decision that could leak to the paps.
A bad decision that could tank headlines.
A bad decision that he quite literally could not give a single fuck about—because he’s already following you to the bathroom like a lost puppy.
The second the door clicks shut, you’re on him. Lips crashing into his—wet, messy, sloppy. You can’t help but nip his bottom lip, suck his tongue, let your hands map every inch of him that’s so broad and inviting. You knew he was hot the minute you saw him slump down in his seat, but the feeling of his abs—solid and firm—has your panties dripping.
He responds instantly to your touch—how could he not? You’ve been taunting him since the terminal. Tight clothes, low-cut top, a neckline that’s been driving him insane, and a safety demonstration that was like a strip tease. He needs to touch you. Needs to feel your tits in his palms, even if it’s through fabric, even if it’s rushed and clumsy.
Almost like you can hear the thought in his head, you break away just long enough to pop the buttons on your shirt. Then you’re back—pressing your mouth to his because you need to breathe him in, taste him, lick that pretty pink mouth until it’s swollen and perfect just for you.
It’s a kiss all tongue and teeth. Breath and spit. You don’t know who’s hungrier, more careless, because you’re both greedy and chasing. Then, Jisung’s hands are on your tits in seconds. Blue lace covering you. Pretty. Completely in his way.
He squeezes your tits, thumbs dragging over your nipples through the fabric, and you’re already gasping because—God—it’s not enough. He must feel the same, because there’s no finesse here. No unclasp. Just the lace shoved up, wire pressing into your collarbone, your head tipping back when his mouth drops to your chest.
A wet stripe down your throat. Another over the swell of your breast. And then—fuck—he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth like he knows what you like. Like he’s done this before, and he’s not a complete stranger who doesn’t know your name.
You choke out a curse, your hand moving to his hair. “Yeah, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
The aeroplane bathroom feels even smaller. Hotter. Every sound slipping from your mouth bounces off the walls—the slick of his tongue, your panting, the low groan he lets out against your skin. Every noise.
You lean down, breath hot against his ear. “Bet you wanna fuck me in here, huh?”
He freezes, just for a second, then snaps his head up, eyes burning like you’ve flipped a switch. That’s when he sees it. The scarf. The one you’ve had knotted around your neck all flight. The one that’s been taunting him since the terminal.
He grabs it before you can blink, reaching for your wrists.You stop him, pressing a finger to his chest.
“Nuh-uh,” you tease, stepping into his space. One slow push until the backs of his legs hit the toilet. “Sit.”
He does. So obedient, like he can’t help himself not to be. You hook your thumbs in the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down. Boxers too—just enough to free him, the heavy length of his cock already hard in your hand.
Then you take the scarf from his fingers. But not for your wrists—for his. You guide his hands behind his back, tying them there in a loose knot that still keeps him bound. He lets you, completely.
“I told you…” You drop to your knees on the cramped floor, looking up at him through your lashes. “I’m here to serve you.”
You drag your nails down his thighs—slow, just to watch him twitch—before wrapping your hand around him where he’s hot and hard and already leaking.
You give one lazy stroke to his length. Then two. Then your tongue’s on him, starting at the tip, licking up the mess like it’s water and you’ve been stranded in the desert for weeks.
“Fuck—” His head tips back, hitting the wall, knuckles flexing against the scarf.
You suck the head into your mouth. Let your tongue swirl, teasing, like you’ve got all the time in the world. You don’t. You both know it. Which makes it hotter. Then you pull back to spit—messy, dirty—and watch it drip down the length of his cock before you take him in again. Deeper this time. Gag once. Twice. Three times. Keep going.
The bathroom smells like him now. Feels like him. The slick sound of your mouth working him over is obscene, lewd, along with his low, desperate groans.
“Jesus—how are you real? Fuck!”
You hum around him, smug as the vibration makes him curse again. You pump him with one hand while you suck on him, twisting your wrist enough to make his hips jerk. There’s saliva on your chin, his precum on your tongue, but you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.
“You have to be a fucking dream,” he rasps, “Prettiest fucking girl on your knees in a fucking aeroplane bathroom—”
You pull back just long enough to drag your tongue from base to tip, locking eyes with him.
“Uh-huh, serving you,” you whisper, and then you’re back on him, taking him to the back of your throat until your eyes water and you can barely breathe.
He’s a mess now—sweat at his hairline, hands flexing uselessly behind his back, hips twitching like he’s fighting not to fuck your face. It’s not like he could anyway.
He wants to—God, he wants to—hold the back of your head, fuck his cock into that filthy little mouth until you’re gagging on him. But his hands are bound. Useless. You’ve got him under your control, and all he can do is sit there and take it. Whining. Groaning. Hips twitching like the friction might break the scarf if he tries hard enough
You make it worse. Spit pooling on your tongue before you let it drip over the head of his cock, watching it slide down the shaft. Your hand spreads it, slow, as your tongue flutters over the tip—light, teasing, filthy.
“Fuck, gorgeous—don’t—” he gasps, but you know exactly what you’re doing. Your mouth is pure sin, hot and wet and relentless, until his thighs tense under your hands. Until you feel it—his whole body going tight.
And just when he’s there, right on the edge, you pull off him with a wet pop. He chokes on a groan, eyes wide, chest heaving.
“What the fuck—no,” he groans, biting his lip.
You giggle at his whining, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. Not your chin, though—which you leave glistening with spit and him. You want him to see that. Then you reach behind him to untie his hands, and the second you do, he’s on you again.
Mouth crashing into yours, absolutely savage. You moan into it because it’s too much—need, want, lust—and because he’s still a stranger. A famous one at that. Another fact that makes this so much hotter.
He hikes your skirt up in one motion. Rips your tights because they’re in his way. And shoves your panties to the side, his cock sliding through your wet slit, teasing, pressing, but not pushing in. He wants to push in. But it's like something clicks in his brain, and he stills.
Fucking the flight attendant was one bad decision.
Doing it bare would be another.
Doing it bare and not pulling out… yeah, that has the potential to be three. (And after the head you just gave him, he’s sure your pussy would be heaven—and he wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.)
“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging himself away, hands raking through his hair.
You’re panting. Needy. Looking at him. You could climb him, you think, if you wanted, but you can see it—the flicker of panic in his eyes.
“Under the sink. Condom.”
He quirks an eyebrow at you. “What happened to no sex on your plane?”
“I lied.” You shrug, lips curling. “Grab one and fuck me.”
Jisung crouches then, reaching under the sink, brushing past paper towels until he finds the box of small foil squares. He grabs one, but before he straightens, his gaze catches on it—the scarf. Disregarded on the floor.
He picks it up, already building the scene in his head. You had your fun. You called the shots. It’s his turn.
“Open your mouth.”
You blink at him, thrown for half a second. But the way he’s looking at you? Deep, dark, commanding brown eyes so full of heat, they leave no space for questions. For defiance. So you part your lips and obey.
The fabric’s soft for a second, teasing over your tongue—then he stuffs it in deep enough to muffle the sound that leaves your throat. It makes you feel… possessed, owned.
“Gotta keep that pretty mouth shut,” he says, smiling, before he tears the condom open with his teeth and rolls it down his length in one smooth stroke.
Then he’s on you—or in you.
One shove and your back hits the wall, the impact rattling the mirror. Your skirt’s bunched at your hips, panties still shoved aside like an afterthought. He lines up, and then he’s inside—deep, hot, stretching you open in one filthy thrust that steals the air from your lungs.
You moan, the sound broken and muffled around the scarf.
“Can’t let everyone on this plane know I’m fucking the hot flight attendant, can we?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear.
You shake your head because that’s all you can do, and even that’s shaky.
“Good girl,” he breathes, and it’s almost sweet—until he drags his cock out slowly, just to slam back in hard enough to make you whimper into the fabric.
The bathroom’s too small, too hot. Every thrust shoves you into the sink, the wall, him. The smell of sweat and sex mixes with the faint scent of disinfectant, the slick sound of him moving inside you loud enough to drown out the hum of the engines and air pressure.
His grip on your hip is bruising, the other hand braced against the wall like he needs the leverage to fuck you harder.
“Bet you do this all the fucking time,” he says, all hoarse and throaty, “so much you have a little condom stash.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders, sharp through his shirt.
“But you wanted it to be me today, huh?” he adds, a little cruel, hips slamming forward again. “Serving me drinks in this little fucking skirt and wondering if I’m ever gonna bend you over in here.”
You moan, high and desperate, but he swallows it with a kiss—his tongue forcing its way past the scarf just enough to taste you. It’s then he feels you clench around him, mouth leaving his lips as your head falls back against the mirror and your eyes roll.
“Shit,” he groans against your mouth, hips still pounding, “you feel fucking unreal. Tight little pussy cumming around me, and I can’t even touch you the way I want ‘cause I’d wake the whole damn plane.”
He pulls back to look at you—flushed, glassy-eyed, scarf wet with spit—and he groans again, like the sight’s enough to wreck him. His pace changes. Less control. Less rhythm. Just messy, urgent thrusts that have you scrambling for balance, fingers clutching at his shoulders like you might fall.
The scarf muffles your sounds, but not enough. You’re still loud. Too loud. Every moan, every gasp echoes off the cramped bathroom walls.
“Shit—” he grits, hips snapping forward, “you’re so fucking wet. You’re drenching me.”
You can feel it. The way each thrust gets harder. Sloppier. The results of his chasing. The plane rocks gently beneath you then, a reminder that you’re thousands of feet in the air, seconds away from someone potentially knocking on the door—and you don’t care. Neither does he.
“Gonna make me lose it,” he groans, his grip on your hip almost punishing now. “And you—” thrust, “—don’t—” thrust, “—even—” thrust, “—have shame.”
You shake your head, eyes wet, utterly breathless now.
“Fuck,” he growls, staring down at where you’re joined. “You’re taking me so deep, gorgeous. All of me.”
He slams in hard, buries himself, and you both feel it—that rush, that coil winding tight in your stomach, no turning back. Your nails rake down his back again. His breath stutters. He’s close. So close. You’re closer. Again.
“You gonna cum with me this time?” he pants, forehead pressed to yours. You nod, frantic, hips pushing into his, chasing it.
“Good—fuck—cum for me. Right here. Right now.”
The last few thrusts are brutal, needy. The bathroom’s all fever and breath and the slap of skin, your muffled cries against the scarf as the coil snaps and you cum hard around him, dragging him along with you. He groans into your neck, hips still moving, riding it out until the aftershocks have you trembling against the wall.
For a second, there’s nothing but panting. The faint hum of the plane and the slow drag of him pulling out, condom slipping free before he tosses it into the tiny trash. And then he looks at you—hair a mess, lips swollen, scarf hanging loose from your mouth—and smirks.
Because he just claimed the air hostess at 37,000 feet in the air.
[3:20 AM] Genre: smut warnings: thigh riding, slight praise kink, marking, jisung gets a handjob, (lmk if I need to add any)
Pairing: dom!jisung x gn!reader
A/N: as per usual, the story is hidden under the cut, don’t read this if you don’t like it. anyways, hey y’all just checking in to see how everyone’s doing!! Sorry for being IA 😭 I was just wrapping up my semester but I should be able to write more now 🫰😄
You enter your apartment with a sigh of defeat, dropping your bag and removing your coat.
Today, work was rough to say the least. With everything that’s happened today you just want to spend time with your boyfriend, Jisung.
Currently, he’s splayed across your couch in a hoodie and sweatpants, eyes glued to the TV screen as he watches a random movie. His gaze shifts to when you walk towards him, clearly tired.
He smiles softly at you before throwing his arms open, inviting you into his gentle grasp. You find yourself drawn in and wrap yourself around him while he rests his arms around your waist.
“Hey baby, how was work?” He says, admiring your features as he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” you sigh.
He moves his hand to lightly hold your chin, turning your face towards his to his.
“You sure?” His thumb swipes across your cheek.
“It was just exhausting.” You whisper before burying your face into his neck, taking in his scent. Normally you’d find it comforting but today, it was making you feel something else.
“Hmm,” He sighs before sitting the both of you up. “Will watching TV make you feel better?”
You shrug, not opposed to the idea. Carefully, you turn around so your back is pressed against him.
You’re only five minutes into the show before Jisung absentmindedly began bouncing his knee. This isn’t something that would affect you but because of how you’re seated against him, he’s rubbing his thigh against where you need him the most.
For awhile, you try to ignore the sensation. That is, until Jisung’s hand slowly slips from your waist, to your inner thigh, and finally to cupping your sex.
You whine and turn your head, resting it back against his shoulder to glance at him. A smug grin plastered across his face while his eyes are glued to the TV screen.
“What?” He questions, not even acknowledging what he’s doing to you at the moment.
You gaze at him with pleading eyes. After the day you’ve had, you both know this is probably something you needed. But he wasn’t just gonna let you get off that easily.
He stops his ministrations below your belt.
You pout at him as he readjusts how he’s seated. He turns you to face him, guiding you to straddle his thigh.
“Use your words, love,” He says before leaning forward, his warm breath fanning against the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want.” He glides his hand up the side of your thigh, rubbing a reassuring circle with his thumb against your soft skin.
You bite your lip. “Um,” you pause, slightly embarrassed. “Can I… rideyourthigh?” You blurt the last words out with your eyelids squeezed shut.
The room is silent besides the show still playing quietly in the background.
Your eyes remain closed as you anxiously ball up the fabric of Jisung’s sweatpants into your fists. You feel him shift under your weight, unsure of what he’s doing until you feel his gentle breaths against your lips. Yet he doesn’t move.
“Ji’ what are you d-,” was all you could manage before he pressed his lips against yours. You kiss him back with need and passion, your arms instinctively flinging themselves around his shoulders while his hands slink slowly down to your hips.
Jisung slowly guides your hips back and forth against his thigh and it feels amazing. But soon you realize the fabric of your work pants were more restrictive than anything.
“How’s this?” Jisung asks through a smirk against your lips
“I need a sec,” you say breathlessly as you break away from the kiss.
Your boyfriend leans back into the couch admiring you fondly as you quickly shimmy your bottoms off, leaving you in your underwear. Jisung bites his lip at the obvious wet patch on the thin fabric, putting how aroused you are on display.
Returning to your spot on Jisung’s lap he attaches his lips to your neck and reaches a hand under your shirt to roll your nipple between his fingers.
“You’re so perfect, baby,” he begins guiding your hips once again with his free hand. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m so glad you’re all mine.” All of his words are dizzying as they go straight to your head and give you intense butterflies in your stomach.
He quickens the pace you’re you’re grinding against him and holds you down a little more. He flexes his thigh a little to test the waters. Your head flies to his shoulder as you bite him slightly and let out muffled moans.
His hand under your shirt drops to palm at his groin. “Baby don’t hide, let me hear you.” He encourages through small groans. He reattaches his lips to your neck and begins marking you up. It’s his favorite way of letting the world know you’re his. He loves knowing that he’s the only one that can make you feel this way.
You drop your head back with a loud moan as Jisung sucks a particular spot on your neck. You can feel him smirking against your neck as he nips at the spot, knowing it’s driving you crazy.
He pulls his head back to observe you and he swears if he didn’t have an ounce of composure he would’ve came in his pants just then. Your features are perfectly lit up by the light of the sunset peeking through the curtains but as he looks down he sees the damp spot on your underwear has leaked onto his sweats.
Jisung groans and guides you to an even faster pace than before. It has you breathless and grasping at his back as you feel your release nearing. Your boyfriend picks up on your queues from the loud higher pitched moans to the way you’re desperately clinging to him, calling his name out like a mantra.
“Baby you’re doing so good for me just hold on a little longer,” he manages to say through groans. His free hand reaches for one of yours and guides your hand to his leaking member. You instantly wrap your hand around him and set a quick pace, stroking him rapidly and thumbing over the tip every few strokes.
“I can’t hold on any longer.” You whine in desperation as you feel yourself on the brink of release.
“That’s okay. Cum for me, love.” He groans out, feeling his release approaching as well.
With that, your releases wash over the both of you, completely consuming you with waves of pleasure. Jisung wraps a tight arm around around your waist, pulling you to lay against him so you don’t fall off his leg as you completely let yourself go.
You’re slightly shaking against your boyfriend when you come down from your high. He’s running his hand across the expanse of your back, whispering small words of praise every once and awhile.
Looking to where your hand was down Jisung’s sweatpants, it’s still wrapped around his now semi-hard member. Making direct eye contact with him, you bring your hand covered in his cum up to your mouth and lick it clean as he watches with lust filled eyes. He groans from the sight and feels himself hardening yet again.
“I love you so much,” Jisung says, quickly sweeping you up into his arms, moving in to reconnect your lips once again. You wrap your legs around his waist as he moans from the taste of his release on your lips.
“I think we need a shower now, babe, we’re all messy” he breathes as he pulls back to gaze at you, smiling.
“Yeah, I think we do.” You say through a smile as you run a hand through his messy hair.
