cw: cursing, reader is evidently more experienced than him, reader has a coochie, smut — eating puh, jisung is a munch, he’s kinda subby!ji again
summary: jisung finally plucked up the courage to ask you out
<- previous part | masterlist
knock, knock, double knock.
this was the unmistakable indication that you had arrived at park jisung’s front door. there was no one else who knocked like you and in the same way he liked knowing who was there before answering, he was also startled knowing it was you. nevertheless, he immediately opened up.
“hey, ji!” you held up a white plastic bag being weighed down by two boxes — a big one with a slightly smaller one balanced on top of it, “i brought the food.”
jisung’s eyes crinkled with a beaming smile, “hi.”
truthfully, there was more to jisung’s startled feelings when he identified your knock. after that very eventful movie night the two of you had about a week ago, jisung had discovered something about himself.
not only was he into you now, but he had been for a lot longer than he had originally thought. and so, he somehow managed to nervously ramble his way into asking you out. and miraculously (to him) you agreed.
so now here you were; angelic face smiling up at him and holding up a bag of chicken and fries. what more could a man posssibly need?
having your first date at jisung’s apartment was majorly your idea. after your last encounter, jisung had become… hyper-aware of his surroundings. yeah.
you had said something about jisung being ‘jumpy af’? so you wanted to keep him in his ‘natural habitat’ to calm him down. or something.
you set the bag of food down on his kitchen counter and took out the two boxes before reaching into his cabinets to get plates.
“isn’t crazy that i know where everything is on the first date? i kinda feel like a stalker.” you mused.
jisung was leant up against the wall opposite you, head completely in the clouds while he watched you, “mm.”
“‘mm’? are you calling me a stalker, ji?”
he jolted up off the wall, “what no! when did i say that?” his eyes widened at you. yeah, jumpy as hell.
“oh my god,” you laughed at him, “how are you still nervous when you asked me out? you’re ridiculous.”
jisung scratched the back of his neck. “i’m just a nervous person, i guess.”
“pfft, yeah, until you’re not.”
jisung covered his face in partial embarrassment, partial shock. you got his ass.
quietly, like you had said nothing at all, you started to shake half of the large portion of fries onto each plate and started sharing out the chicken. giving jisung a little more because you kinda have a crush on himmm omg.
“well, you need to loosen up… wanna watch a movie while we eat?”
“i don’t know… which one?”
“wanna watch superbad?”
“no.” jisung answered way too quickly making you burst out into laughter as your hand flew to his shoulder.
“you’re so cute. let’s eat.”
⋆
you should have never let ji pick what to watch. you had found yourselves watching some pure bullshit that he found on youtube. a timelapse of some guy building a lego set. way to make the first date romantic.
“do you let all your girls watch legos or am i special?” smoothly, you raised one of your legs onto jisung’s on the couch, popping the last of your fries into your mouth.
“actually,” jisung pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. holy shit. “you’re the first.”
“i’m honoured, ji.” you rolled your eyes, raising your other leg so that they were both resting over jisung’s and you were facing him sideways on while his eyes were glued to the screen, “honoured.”
he only hummed in response, absentmindedly holding onto one of your thighs while he stared onwards.
and then you got an idea.
suddenly, you removed your legs from over jisung’s, eliciting a barely audible whine from him. you put your lips close to his right ear. “i don’t wanna watch this anymore, ji.”
“what, do you wanna watch a different buil— ouh.”
you started to kiss at the area just below his ear and his brain melted into mush. you whispered “i wanna do something else.”
“w— uh, what do you wanna do?”
you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, cradled his face and brought his lips to yours, “you haven’t guessed by now?”
the peaks of jisung’s cheeks were flushed pink, “i have an idea but i-it’d be nice to hear from you. i like to hear you.”
“i think i wanna teach you something new.”
“yeah? yeah, yeah, ok.” heat prickled at the back of his neck.
“you’ve never gone down on someone before..? right?”
jisung blinked at you before laughing right in your face. you couldn’t be serious.
“okay, damn. well, it’s pretty similar to making out and you kiss like you’re eating pussy anyway so. this should be easy.”
jisung’s eyes widened at your comment but nevertheless, he slid down from the couch onto his knees in front of you, bracing his hands on either sides of your thighs.
you took a deep breath. “so, a lot of girls like it when you tease a little before, uhm, before you start.” — were you nervous now?
jisung furrowed his brows at you, “what like making fun of you..?”
you laughed at him, “no, stupid. like foreplay.”
“oh.. oh! yeah i knew that. you should have just— wait what should i do, then?”
you stroked his hair from above, “try eating it over the panties.”
jisung started to push your skirt up your thighs before pausing, “is this a prank?”
“nope.”
he leaned forward, pressing a shy kiss on your pussy through your cotton underpants. jisung looked up at you to gage your reaction before going in to push a slightly more open mouthed kiss over your panties. the sigh that you let out from this made the tips of his ears burn a deep pink.
“does that feel nice?” ji looked up at you with his big brown eyes and you nodded down at him.
“please keep going.”
experimentally, jisung licked a stripe down the middle of the fabric, making you moan and he moaned right back in response. “can i please take the panties off? i wanna eat you out properly..”
with your permission, jisung pulled your panties down over your legs at a painfully slow pace. he reached his arms under your thighs to provide himself a better angle and started to press soft kisses on your inner thighs while you squirmed above him.
jisung ate you out like a man starved, sucking and licking at your clit as you tugged at his hair. he moaned and whined into your pussy — almost as if he was feeling more pleasure than you.
“can i.. finger you? at the same time?” jisung furrowed his brows up at you, pleadingly. his chest was heaving and his eyes were glassy— how could you say no?
“sure, baby.”
jisung slowly pushed his middle finger into your cunt, making you cry out in pleasure as he grazed your g-spot. the squeeze of your pussy around his finger made blood rush to his dick.
“ji, can you curl that finger upwards for me?”
“like this?” jisung curled his middle finger upwards against your walls and you swear your vision blurred for a sec.
“fuck, just like that, baby.”
the slow movement of jisung’s finger in and out of you combined with his soft, sloppy kisses on your clit drove your eyes into the back of your head. and the fact that jisung was whimpering under you was bringing you close to the edge.
“ji, i think i’m gonna cum.”
“please, please, cum. please cum on my face, y/n, i need it.”
yeah, that was it for you. the sound of jisung’s muffled begging as he sped up his movements led to your orgasm crashing over you in a silent wave of white hot pleasure.
jisung was left panting with his head leant against your thigh.
“you’re so good, jisung. what the fuck.”
“you came, right?” jisung pouted and you just chuckled.
summary: you don’t necessarily mind admiring lee haechan from afar, but when the opportunity for you to get closer presents itself, you grasp it, and eventually you come to the realisation that whilst you’ve been too busy admiring, you’ve failed to notice that he’s been doing exactly the same.
pairing: student!haechan x f!reader. mdni! adults only.
genre: university!au, fluff, strangers to acquaintances to lovers, smut!
word count: 32k (i am sorry)
tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking/vaping, swearing, talks of fetishes, explicit sexual content, kissing (a lot), making out, semi-public shenanigans(not sex), spitting (yum), fingering, dry humping, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, multiple smut scenes, dirty talk, praise, light chocking, lots of teasing, protected sex, overstimulation, haechan is cocky but also pathetic, haechan being bf material without even being her bf, he calls her a brat like once, petnames (baby, pretty, baby girl, good girl), she calls him “hae”, they’re both down bad, soft dom!haechan, sub!reader, switch!haechan, cumshot oops, aftercare, he’s just a good guy, both are mature but can be too in their head at times, there’s no toxicity or angst in this fic, ✨communication✨, pls let me know if i missed anything!
other characters: the whole dream gang, chenle & ningning as oc’s besties
a/n: hi all! this is my first ever fic (that I'm posting lol) and I've poured my heart and soul into it so i hope you show some love. it's definitely not perfect and i could keep rereading and finding things that I'd change but I've kept my writing in the dark for long enough and if i don’t post this now i know i never will, so please take it! I do have a part 2 in the works, which will be diving into their feelings and more angsty themes, but for now I hope you lovely people enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it xoxo
ps. the idea for this fic blossomed while i was listening to eye candy by justin bieber, so might be worth giving it a listen whilst reading
→ Part 2
It's not like you’re obsessed with Lee Haechan. You just enjoy looking at him. You barely even know the guy, but, annoyingly, he's difficult to ignore. Difficult not to notice. And it’s not like you’ve spoken much to each other either, apart from the rare exchange of a few words here and there or the odd nod of acknowledgement in corridors.
There was this one time where he sat next to you in class, but that was only because he was late and the seat next to yours was the only empty one that was close to the entrance of the classroom. That was the first time he smiled at you. Nothing more than casual and polite but it still made your heart race.
Then, of course, there was the time where you bumped into him on the street, while you were on your way to a date, which ended up being disastrous, but that didn’t really bother you. What bothered you was the fact that he was also on his way to a date. With a girl. A girl he chose to go on a date with. A girl that he probably found pretty. A girl that wasn't you. Regardless, that didn’t negate the fact that, that night you had your first ever conversation with him. It was brief, but it happened, and it certainly left you with a bittersweet taste in your mouth, which was probably why you later couldn’t focus on the boy you matched with on that godforsaken dating app. And as mean as it sounded in your head, you hoped Haechan’s date went as badly as yours.
Next time you saw him, was at a campus party you got dragged to by Chenle and Ningning. Mark convinced Chenle, who convinced Ningning, who forced you and it’s not like you don’t enjoy a fun night out with friends and alcohol, you just weren’t in the right mood that night and you were convinced that being in your luteal phase had definitely something to do with it.
You remember instantly spotting him in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter as he was speaking to a girl you didn’t recognise and you could tell just from her side profile that she was nothing but attractive. You watched as she reached and took the drink he was holding, bringing it up to her lips, tasting the contents of the cup but also him, and you decided to look elsewhere before witnessing anything that would (but definitely shouldn’t) ruin your night.
You were determined to spend the rest of the party as far away from him as possible, forcing poor Chenle to go and refill your drink in the kitchen every time you ran out. You were more than aware it might have sounded silly to anyone else, but you didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of trying to get someone’s attention, when they were clearly not interested. You’d been that person in the past, and you refused to make the same mistakes again. At the end of the day, it was just a crush. It would go away eventually. Right?
When the party started to die down, you found yourself in the back garden with no one else other than the lovely Na Jaemin, after you stumbled upon him being sick in a fake plant pot. You could have left him in his own fate, but knowing yourself, you would definitely feel guilty for the rest of the night, if you didn’t make sure he was safe. You started to regret your decision about 10 minutes later, when he had already fallen asleep with his head in your lap and you were sure he was drooling on you, but that was the least of your concerns in that moment. Thankfully, Chenle picked up on the first ring and when you asked him to come outside with reinforcements, he immediately said, “I’ll be there in a sec.”
The reinforcements, of course, being Jeno and Haechan, wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, but you weren’t in a position to be picky. You found out shortly after that Haechan had only stepped outside for a smoke and got dragged into ‘helping’, which he refused to do since, according to him, Jaemin had put him in that position countless of times and he’s sick of looking after a grown ass man who’s got the alcohol tolerance of a twelve year-old. You found his point more than valid, but you didn’t say anything.
When Chenle and Jeno disappeared back inside, carrying a whiny and barely coherent Jaemin, you found yourself alone with the boy you had initially tried to steer clear of at all costs. Your mission miserably failed that night and at the end of it all you realised one thing; whatever it was that you felt for Lee Haechan, wasn’t just a harmless crush.
“I gotta admit, that was slightly entertaining.” He said as he took the seat that Jaemin had previously been occupying next to you on the wooden bench.
You must have sat there with him for about an hour, talking about everything and nothing, while enjoying the early summer breeze and the freedom that came with the end of finals. He insisted on getting you an uber home when you announced that you were going to walk because your phone had died and when you asked if you could pay him back somehow, he said, “Just don't be a stranger next year.”
Autumn
You were aware Zhong Chenle was an evil little thing, but you hadn’t pegged him for a traitor. And betrayed is what you felt as you read the message on your screen over and over again.
@kh1000le: greetings folks, party at my new place this saturday @8 – I'll add the deets later but feel free to invite more people. ps. don’t forget to bring extra booze.
You look up from your phone, remembering you're still in class and the professor is still talking stats. Your eyes instantly land on Haechan, still sitting two rows ahead of you, between Jeno and Jaemin and you can tell he’s looking down, probably reading the message you were reading just seconds ago. Jaemin shifts closer to whisper something in his ear and Haechan leans in to hear better. He quickly nods his head agreeing to whatever Jaemin says.
You turn your attention back to your phone again as more notifications flood your screen. Other people in the group chat responding and reacting to messages. Haechan is still silent. No reactions or responses. You wonder what he's thinking. But most of all, you wonder if he's noticed you're also in that group chat. Would he recognise your username? You only started following each other the day after that party before summer, but it’s been almost four months now and there has certainly been no exchange of messages.
Suddenly, you notice people have started packing up their belongings and you quickly start doing the same, hoping you can flee the scene as fast as possible, before Jaemin comes up to you with questions about the party.
The second you step outside the doors and into the corridor, you exhale, relieved to have succeeded and as you start walking towards the main building exit you realise you spoke too soon.
"Y/n, wait up!"
You close your eyes muttering a quiet “shit” to yourself. You put on a smile and turn around, Jaemin quickly approaching you. Haechan, who's trailing a few steps behind him, isn’t really paying attention, already in a conversation with Jeno.
“Jeez woman, you sure walk fast. You got somewhere to be?” He speaks fast as he tries to catch his breath.
“Hey Jaemin, yeah, sorry, I'm in a rush, how can I help?" You try and respond as nonchalantly as possible.
"I just saw you're in that group chat and I'm assuming you'll be there on Saturday?" He asks with eyes full of hope.
"Yes sir. I'm actually meeting up with Chenle now to talk logistics." You explain quickly, seeing Haechan getting closer from your peripheral.
"Ahhh that makes sense, I just wanted to ask if we should bring anything else other than alcohol?"
"Just your drink of choice will be enough for you I reckon, don't want you ruining any of his new plants." You say with a teasing tone.
"Yah!" He complains with a pout that is nothing but laughable.
"Hey Y/N." Jeno approaches with a smile and joins your conversation. “Is this man bothering you?”
“Not really, just making sure he doesn't die of alcohol poisoning on Saturday.” You try to keep your eyes on Jeno, avoiding the handsome boy who's also joined your little group.
”I thought you were a nice one.” Jaemin whines like a little child while a frown adorns his face.
“You’ve been fooled my friend,” Jeno comes to stand next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “She’s evil.”
You're mid eye roll when Haechan’s voice cuts through. “Seems pretty harmless to me.” He’s standing next to Jaemin now. One hand in his pocket, the other holding the strap of his bag. You notice the two rings adorning his middle fingers. Such a pretty hand, you think, the veins prominent, running down his smooth arm, disappearing underneath an oversized check shirt he's wearing over a white t-shirt. You then notice he's got a pair of jorts on and you can't help but wonder who can even pull off jorts that effortlessly nowadays.
Your attention drifts back up to his face, the most adorable boba eyes are twinkling as he looks at you and his captivating mouth offers you a cheeky smile. A small dimple appears, barely there for you to see and you think you're on the verge of throwing up. His lips move again and you watch him carefully like he’s moving in slow motion. "Hi." His hand leaving his pocket and raising in the air to offer you a quick wave. It's annoying how such a small and casual gesture makes your heartbeat faster and your cheeks feel warmer. You're pretty sure your eyes are giving you away, showing how affected you are behind the stoic expression you’re struggling to maintain. You never thought you'd be here, but you have Chenle to thank. Or maybe strangle. You haven't decided yet.
"Hi." You return the smile as calmly as you can, foregoing the wave. You don't think your limbs are working properly right now and you're pretty sure your fingers are slightly shaking by your sides. And you’re now thankful for Jeno’s arm still draped around you, the weight grounding and necessary. You feel your phone vibrate a few times in your back pocket, assuming it's either Chenle or Ning checking if you're alive and that pulls you out of your trance. “Evil is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”
”That’s funny, remember when you told me to go fuck myself and read a book whilst I’m at it?"
“Oh, I’m sorry,” You shove his arm off you in fake annoyance. “Did I offend you?” You feign concern dramatically. “Remember when you asked me if I’ve got any friends who need, and I quote, an unforgettable dicking down session and then proceeded to say, and I quote again, ‘is Murakami the fella who wrote that book about some Norwegian guy’s dick?’” You get slightly irritated just at the memory.
"Ahhh that explains it! This guy came back home a few months ago asking if anyone’s got a copy of Norwegian Wood." Jaemin looks at you as he explains, whilst pointing a mocking finger at Jeno.
"Oh? You actually read it then?" You ask with a hopeful smile and Jeno offers you a shy nod. Maybe there's hope for him after all.
“Read it? He actually cried when he got to the part where Naoko kills herself.” Haechan snorts at Jeno’s sour expression and reaches out to lightly pinch his cheek. He instantly gets shoved away. “Aw come on, I thought it was endearing.” Haechan turns to look at you now. “I was wondering who made him read that.” He holds your gaze while you hold your breath, and you wish someone could hold your heart as it’s about to beat out of your chest. “I love that book.” He admits with a smile, and you celebrate internally, because you knew he wasn’t just a pretty face, and you feel giddy knowing that you’ve both loved the same thing, even if it’s just a book.
You picture him sitting in a pink cafe, wearing a cozy sweater, looking all warm and comfy while turning page after page. You find yourself wanting to ask if he’s read it more than once, like you have and what his thoughts are on the ending. But you don’t. Not yet.
“Well maybe you two nerds should join a book club.” Jeno bitterly says.
“I mean, I’d be down?” Haechan raises his eyebrows suggestively at you. Mothefucker.
“I would, but unfortunately I have somewhere to be right now.” Your response causing his tongue to poke in his cheek, trying to fight off a smile. The gesture making him look incredibly handsome and boyish at the same time and if you were a cartoon character, pink heart eyes would be bulging out of your eye sockets. You force yourself to look away from Haechan's face, opting to divert your gaze between the other two boys instead. They're both carrying amused expressions, looking between you and Haechan and you feel like you’re missing something.
“Ouch.” Jaemin says with a laugh, now mocking Haechan.
“See?” Jeno looks at both of his friends, crossing his arms over his chest as if proving a point. “Told you she’s evil.” He smiles like he’s proud of you.
And that’s your queue to escape. ”Right, well, as lovely as this has been, I actually have to go.”
“Okay, busy queen.” Jaemin snaps his fingers and you can instantly picture him getting along with Chenle. “We’ll see you Saturday then.” He smiles sweetly.
”You will indeed. Don’t be too late.” You say with a warning, pointing a finger between all three of them.
”Yes, mam.” Jeno nods in agreement.
You look at Haechan one last time. His expression contemplative, almost like he's torn between saying something else and keeping quiet. The way he's observing you makes you feel like he's already got you all figured out. Like there's no way he doesn't know you’re having trouble breathing, all because of him.
“See you Saturday.” He says in the sweetest tone, smiling at you like he's done it a million times before.
You give him a small nod goodbye and when you start to walk away you try your best to do so at a normal speed, not wanting to give away the fact that you're practically running away.
You hear Jaemin's loud voice again. “Bye Y/N!”
”Bye Jaemin!” You respond, mimicking his cheerful tone without looking back.
As you head towards the exit, you've already decided you're going to go with the option of strangling Chenle. Because there’s no way you’re surviving Saturday night without going clinically insane. Not if Haechan holds your gaze the way he did just a few moments ago. Not if he talks the way he talks and certainly not if he looks as good as he always does.
You’re done for.
_
You’re baffled as to how and why Chenle knows this many people. You assume majority are friend of friends and acquaintances, because you’ve known the boy for three years now and never has he mentioned more than five names. You’re also starting to get worried he might get a noise complaint from the people occupying the flat downstairs, but you assume he has already warned them about tonight.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud exclaim and you feel like laughing when you hear Chenle’s screechy voice shouting Mark’s name excitedly, announcing his drunkenness along with the older boy’s arrival.
"Lover boy still not here?" Ningning teases you as you check the time on your phone for the umpteenth time that night. She takes a sip from her drink and looks over your shoulder. "Relax, it only 9pm."
"I'm relaxed." You defend quickly. She takes in your stressed expression and pauses to think for a second. "What?"
"Nothing, I just realised I haven't seen you so excited about a boy before. It's refreshing." She smiles while trapping the straw between her pearly whites. "Speak of the devil." She jerks her chin towards the direction of the door and you instantly know who she’s referring to, but you don't dare to turn around and look yet. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest and Ningning sets her drink down on the kitchen counter before taking hold of both your shoulders. "Y/N, we talked about this. There's literally no reason to freak out. If he flirts, flirt back. Let it happen naturally yeah?" Her tone serious, as if you're both on a mission.
You widen your eyes comically to match hers, nodding your head quickly while trying not to laugh at her expression. It’s almost as though she’s more anxious than you are. "Ning, I'm good. I got it."
"Just saying, he'd be a dimwit not to like you." One of her hands pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and the comforting act gives you the reassurance you didn’t know you needed. "Plus, this dress makes your tiddies look yummy." She smirks and you wack her hand away with a laugh when she reaches out to poke into the bit of cleavage that spills from the top of your dress. You can tell she's entered the realms of tipsiness, and you wish you were there with her too, but the tequila shot from earlier definitely didn't do its job.
"Fuck me, didn’t think this many people would turn up." Jaemin's loud voice startles both of you, making you turn around and you're met with the three boys from your stats class. "Good thing we brought reinforcements, huh?" He says excitedly, shaking a Jack Daniels bottle.
"Are you a middle aged man by any chance?" Ningning's face scrunched up in disgust as she inspects the whiskey bottle in Jaemin's hands. "What happened to just drinking plain old vodka at parties?"
"Ah, Jeno is your guy." Jaemin points his thumb behind him and Jeno raises the hand holding a vodka bottle.
Jeno's face lights up when he spots the unused cups and heads over to start making drinks for him and Ningning. "Lemonade?" He asks, looking at her and she nods excitedly. "Same for you Y/N?" His eyes on you now.
"Nah, I'm on gin tonight, thanks though." You smile appreciatively at him.
"Guess I'm your guy then."
Fuck.
Your eyes instantly meet. He's already smiling down at you, and he looks so good. Too good for your respiratory system to function properly. His dark hair is messily styled, fringe almost covering his eyes. He's got a black button-down shirt on, top three buttons undone, collarbones on display and sleeves rolled up revealing his veiny forearms, all effortlessly combined with dark blue jeans and black converse. Pretty. Perfect.
Without permission, his hand engulfs yours, wrapping around your drink, bringing the cup to his lips, your own hand slipping down as he downs the liquid in one big gulp. The cooling feeling of his rings lingers, and you can’t help but stare at his neck as he swallows and then his eyes are on you again, his tongue slightly darting out to lick his bottom lip where there's a drop of liquid. His eyebrows furrow and he nods in approval.
"Lemonade it is." He casually says, like he didn’t almost just cause your heart to fail. He takes your now empty cup with him, joining Jeno at the counter.
"Well then," Jaemin feigns disappointment, eyebrows furrowing dramatically. "I guess I'm having this whole whiskey bottle to myself."
"I'm sure Chenle would help you out." Ningning half jokes. "Good luck finding him though."
"Yeah, what the hell, this place is so crowded." Jeno returns with two drinks and hands one of them to Ningning. "It might be a bit strong, sorry." He warns her.
Her face grimaces slightly when she takes a reluctant sip, proving Jeno right, making you both laugh. "Eh, it'll do." She says carelessly, "I've had a stressful week."
"Here to help." Jeno raises his cup, and they do a quick cheers. They start conversing comfortably about why her week was stressful and you're pretty sure they've never met before but that's Ningning. Top yapper, never awkward.
"Yours might be a bit on the strong side too." Haechan says apologetically as he stands in front of you, handing you back your now full cup. You smile at the sparkly straw he's added. Cute. "Try it."
And you do. It feels too intense, almost intimate, drinking while holding eye contact with someone, let alone this fine man, so you don't. But you feel his eyes on you as you take a sip. And you really do hope the drink is strong, because if you're going to survive tonight, alcohol will be your savior. He's looking at you, carefully taking in your expression as you taste the drink, almost as if he's sat on the edge of his seat waiting for your reaction.
"It's good. Thank you." You smile appreciatively as you welcome the slight burn in the back of your throat and he mirrors you excitedly.
"Good." He nods with a satisfied expression. Then he lets his eyes wander downwards. He takes in your dress in a not-so-subtle way, and you could swear he’s checking you out. You watch his eyes move on you and you love how he's still holding his cup close to his lips, touching the bottom one. You fight against the urge to reach out and drag it down with your thumb. Would he mind if you did that? You reach behind you instead, resting one hand against the counter to somewhat ground yourself, and the action seems to bring him back to reality. Is he always this obvious?
"Did you also have a stressful week?" He asks casually, like he wasn't just staring at your boobs a second ago. His eyes on yours now.
"Huh?"
"Your friend said she's had a stressful week," He explains, chuckling at your confusion. "Was just asking if it was the same for you."
"Oh right. Umm, I dunno." You shrug. "A little, I guess."
"How come?" His head tilts to the side slightly.
"It's always fine until Thursday to be honest." Your admission holds a double meaning and he seems to catch on as the sides of his lips slightly lift amusedly.
"Really? I thought Thursday was our day, no?" He playfully pouts and you’re trying your best not to let his smooth words affect you. Our day? What a little shit. You notice the silver chain around his neck and you can't help but feel a tinge of shame at the inappropriate thoughts that flood your mind.
"Just not a big fan of stats." You make up an excuse with a slight delay, hoping that he can't tell you're practically ogling him.
He nods understandingly. "You and me both. I've been seriously thinking about dropping it next semester."
"What would you choose instead?" You ask curiously, trying to cover the frown that takes over your face at the thought of not sharing any classes with him.
"Why, you interested in joining me?" Is he flirting or have you already gone insane?
"Depends." You shrug, twirling the sparkly straw, eyes not leaving his.
"I think I'd go for creative writing." He studies your face for a reaction.
“Oh?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “So you really did mean it when you said you wanted to join a book club.” You tease with newfound confidence and he lets out an airy chuckle.
“That offer's gone now, you turned me down.” He says with a smirk.
"I'm sure I could convince you to reconsider." You say with a suggestive tone, catching him off guard and before he can retort with a witty response, you return to your initial subject. “So, you wanna be a writer or...?”
"Well, no, not exactly.” His voice is hesitant, eyes lowering to look at his drink, almost as if he’s embarrassed. Does he think you’ll judge him? You suddenly get the feeling that you might have overstepped.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to-”
“No, no, you’re good.” His words are rushed, his head shaking quickly, hand reaching to touch your arm reassuringly. It’s light, quick, barely there but his fingers feel hot against your skin. Before you have time to react, he continues. “I just- I don’t really go around talking about personal goals and what not, don’t want you to think I’m flaunting.”
“Why would I think you’re flaunting?” Your perplexed tone causing him to smile.
“I wanna make music.” Eyes carefully watch you as he waits for a reaction. When you just nod for him to continue, he almost looks surprised but quickly recovers, clearing his throat. ”So, I thought creative writing would help.”
"So, you wanna write songs." You state as if to make sure that you heard him correctly and he nods, still watching your face. "Or have you already?" You ask carefully and he chuckles at your attempt to keep your nosiness to a minimum but failing.
He moves to stand next to you, leaning against the counter. You feel like you can breathe again, now that his eyes aren't on you, but his arm brushes against your shoulder and you almost shiver when you feel the warmth radiating off him. You get a whiff of his scent, subtly inhaling, cologne and detergent mixing into an intoxicating potion that clouds your senses. He's too close but you somehow want him closer. You suddenly wonder where Chenle is and instantly feel bad for threatening to cut his air circulation. This is good. This feels good.
He looks down at his drink, in thought. "I play the piano, so creating a melody is relatively simple if I really put my mind to it." Oh? He looks at you again and you feel scrutinised under his gaze. Suddenly, your shoes are very interesting to look at. "It's just the words I struggle with." He admits.
"Maybe you need to find some sort of inspiration?" You suggest.
"Maybe." He puts his drink down and leans against the counter, crossing his hands on his chest. "Got anything in mind?
"I mean, it could be a person." You say nonchalantly, without really thinking. "Unless you’ve already got that covered?" The bold question comes out before your brain can process the thought and you internally scream.
He smiles wide now. Pearly whites on display. His eyes back on yours. "I thought you didn’t mean to pry." He teases and laughs when your eyes widen. “I’m joking.” He elbows your side softly and you almost gasp as the touch. Why does he keep touching you?
“I tend to get nosy after a couple of drinks, sorry.” You huff a quick laugh before taking another sip of your drink, trying to distract yourself.
“You can be nosy, I don’t mind.” He says in a more serious tone now and you feel his gaze on you. Choosing to keep your eyes on your drink seems like a wise choice, watching as you swirl the liquid in your cup. "To answer your question though, I currently have no clue what or who I'd write about." He responds indirectly, but the implication is clear. He reaches for his drink again in thought. "Maybe ask me in a year's time? Hopefully I’ve found a source of inspiration by then."
“That’s fair.” You pick up your phone from the counter and after unlocking it you click on your calendar app. You scroll until you find next year’s October and select today's date. He looks over your shoulder and laughs when he reads 'Ask Haechan about his songwriting' as the reminder's title. You show him your screen and smile when you see the approval on his face.
"Yeah, that works." He nods.
You look around and notice that all your friends are now gone. "We should probably mingle." You suggest.
"Right, yeah." He agrees with a nod, looking around just like you did a second ago.
When you spot Ningning in the crowd, she's laughing with Jeno and Jaemin. Their attention on Chenle and the girl who's got her tongue down his throat. You and Haechan find the situation just as comical.
The rest of the night flows smoothly. You get to meet a few more people as well as the other two boys Haechan, Jeno and Jaemin live with and you wonder how all these insanely attractive boys came to be friends. Renjun and Jisung are both equally as lovely. You find Renjun’s mother figure hilarious and Jisung’s shyness endearing. You don't fail to notice that Haechan always hovers close. Not necessarily standing or sitting next to you, but always close enough that you can see him from your peripheral and you can't help but wonder if it's intentional or just a coincidence.
You’re mid conversation with Mark when you feel a hand on your lower back. You easily recognise the now familiar scent of his cologne, and you instantly turn your head and look at him. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol deceiving you, but he looks even more irresistible than he did before. His hair slightly stuck to his forehead from the heat surrounding the crowded living room, cheeks and lips a deeper shade of pink now that he’s had his fair share of alcohol. You wonder if his lips taste the same as yours since you’ve been having the same drink all night.
“Shots?” Haechan shouts over the music and you and Mark follow him into the kitchen, where Jaemin and Jeno are preparing tequila shots and you wonder who assigned these two clowns with bartender duties. Chenle is now gulping down a glass of water and you’re thankful to whoever made that decision for him.
As soon as you’ve downed your shot, you take a sip of your drink as a chaser to minimise the burning sensation in your esophagus. “Wanna go get some air?” Haechan leans in and you almost shiver as his warm breath fans against your naked shoulder and you internally thank Ningning for prompting you to wear a strapless dress.
You respond with a quick nod and he smiles. “I got you.” He mumbles as he takes hold of your hand and leads you to the big balcony doors. On the way, he grabs a hoodie you assume he dumped earlier on the couch and the second you’re outside and he shuts the door, you feel the ringing in your ears. You’re thankful for the fresh air infiltrating your lungs and brain, feeling a little less intoxicated now. “Maybe that shot was a bad call,” Haechan laughs quietly at your dazed expression. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.” He teases.
“Yah!” You elbow him, your voice louder than you intended it to be and he giggles softly, clearly also affected by the drinks he’s had all night. “I’ve had the same amount as you.” You pout drunkenly.
“I’m just teasing.” His smile soft now.
“Yeah, you seem to keep doing that.” You say with a complaint in your tone, eyes narrowing.
“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep getting all flustered every single time.” His words take you aback; a surprised laugh escaping your throat at his boldness.
Before you have time to speak, he notices your arms coming up to conceal a shiver and without a word, he’s closer than he’s ever been before. His arms circle around you, hands hovering just above your shoulders as he holds up the hoodie, waiting for you to slot your arms through the sleeves. You look up at him before you obey, his intense stare not giving much room for any objection.
Once it’s on you, his hands come to your front to fix the neckline that connects to the hood and when you think he’s about to zip you up, he reaches behind you again, playfully dragging the hood up, over your head, covering most of your face with the thick fabric and you whine loudly, causing him to laugh. You push the hood back down, with a frown.
“Aww, cute.” He coos as he gently tames the mess he created on your head, fingers untangling and smoothing down the strands and he smiles endearingly when he’s happy with his work. "There you go, all done."
“Thanks.” You say in a bashful tone.
“For keeping you warm or calling you cute?” He asks with a smirk and you can’t help but scoff, feigning annoyance as you swat away the hand still playing with a strand of your hair.
Desperately needing to escape his daring eyes, you walk past him and towards the railing as you take in the view of the twinkling city lights and you withhold a smile when you feel him follow after you.
You feel his stare on you as he leans against the railing, taking a vape out of his pocket. He takes a puff and exhales the smoke through his nose, as he takes in the view himself, before turning to meet your eyes again. The action shouldn’t feel this intimate and it definitely shouldn’t make him look even more attractive than he already is.
You instinctively reach out and fix the chain that’s somewhat tangled around his neck. He doesn’t flinch, just moves his head to the side to make room for your hand and the sides of his lips twitch, fighting a grin. “What flavour is it?” You drop your hand from his collar and step a little closer to take a look at the fruit-flavoured stick in his hand.
“Cherry ice.” He holds it out for you. “Wanna try it?”
When you do, you can't help but scrunch your nose at the sugary taste. “Hmm.” Your uncertainty obvious as you exhale the smoke. “It’s too sweet.” You cringe at the aftertaste, your funny expression making him laugh. And you feel your heartbeat fastening at the sound. Because you're right. It's too sweet.
“I like sweet things.” He says in a hushed voice, as if he's letting you in on a secret. The dual meaning of his words causes a blush to creep up from your neck to your cheeks. You can tell he notices, but this time he holds back on teasing you and turns to look at the view again, taking another puff.
You gawk at how handsome he looks from this angle. His long lashes, the slope of his perfect nose, his incredibly kissable heart-shaped lips, his sharp jawline, his neck. Pretty. Everything about him.
“Yeah, I bet you do.” You mutter in a daze. He looks at you again and you don’t look away this time. His brown eyes sparkle, reflecting the city lights below. You realise that you’ve never actually been around him in a setting like this. It’s always been daytime with him. Always crowded. Always surrounded by noise that you had to block out. But now it’s all new.
Nighttime. Just you two. Quiet.
“That dress looks good on you, I like it.” His eyes trail down your form again, a lot quicker this time, but still noticeable and at this point you're convinced he's not even trying to hide it.
Your face feels warmer than before as you look down at your dress, your hand instinctively smoothing down the material. You can see the smoke he exhales from your peripheral and then you choose your words boldly again. “I know you do.”
“Really?” He steps closer and his hand comes up, thumb delicately tracing the tiny bow at the centre of your cleavage. “What gave me away?” Your heartbeat increases when his fingers trail upwards, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and settling on the base of your neck, his thumb on your jaw, giving you no option but to look up at him.
“You’re just-” You pause to inhale sharply when you realise how close he is. Your noses almost bumping into each other. You tip your head back slightly, to look at him properly.
“I’m what?” He urges you to go on.
“Not very subtle.” You finally finish your sentence.
“Y/N-” He says with a breathy laugh and you don’t think you’ve ever liked the sound of your name so much before. The tip of his nose rubs against your own just once and the sweetest smile takes over his features. You feel yourself leaning into him even more. His thumb still caressing your jaw and you know he wants to kiss you, but you wait. You let him take the lead. Because you need him to. “I don’t think I ever intended to be subtle with you.”
Your gaze drifts down to his lips and you so desperately want them on yours now, you think you might cave and close the gap yourself. One of your hands travels up and your pointer finger curls around his chain, pulling just a tiny bit. And the second he closes the gap you think you’re going through an out-of-body experience. His lips feel soft, and you can instantly tell he’s a good kisser.
His mouth slots perfectly against yours, slow at first. But he doesn’t waste time when your lips eagerly part against his. He licks at your bottom lip teasingly before briefly sucking, tongue easily finding its way in and the second it glides against your own, hot and wet, you moan. Both your hands find their way in his hair, slightly pulling, and you feel him sigh against your mouth. The hand on your jaw drags slowly to the back of your neck and into your hair, tilting your head to get the angle he wants. It's filthy, the perfect amount of sloppy and careful. A thousand times better than what you’ve imagined. He sucks on your tongue, forcing another moan out of you.
You try to pull away for a second to catch your breath but the hand in your hair silently instructs you to stay put. “Mmh-mm.” He protests with a whine and the vibration against your mouth feels delicious. Arousing. And you feel pathetic at how wet you already are just from kissing him. He licks into your mouth one more time before pulling back, allowing you to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting your lips as you both breathe heavily and your fingers tighten around the collar of his shirt in desperation.
“Fuck.” He exhales against your lips, sounding beautifully wrecked, chest moving up and down rapidly against your own and your erect nipples feel so sensitive rubbing on his shirt. Even with your eyes still closed, you can sense him looking at you, making you feel exposed and incredibly turned on at the same time.
You fully come back to your senses when he starts walking you backwards until you’re eventually backed up against the wall next to the balcony door, suddenly reminding you of your surroundings. You don’t have much time to think before his lips are on yours again and you immediately turn into mush in his arms, mouth pliantly giving him access. The only things audible are your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of your lips smacking. The faint music coming from inside, barely noticeable now.
Haechan wraps a hand around your throat, gentle but possessive and you love the weight of it on your sweaty skin, just resting there with intend. His other hand grabs the side of your thigh, raising your leg to rest on his hip. And that’s when you feel the hardness, grinding slowly against your tummy, testing the waters, and you can’t help but gasp in response.
His mouth leaves yours, trailing gentle kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, leaving wet patches of your combined spit on your skin, and when he reaches the dip of your collarbone, he bites gently, soothing the skin with his tongue afterwards. You can’t help but clench around nothing.
He angles your head to the side, giving himself more space to suck and lick where he pleases as his other hand trails from your thigh to the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh and bunching up your dress in the process. You whimper at the feeling of his rough hand, your eyes rolling back when he grinds into your front again, with more urgency this time.
"Fuck." You whisper breathlessly, feeling lightheaded.
“Yeah?” He mumbles against your sensitive skin, and you cup his face in your hands, guiding him to look at you again. “What do you want?” He gives you a sweet peck and you instantly melt, your insides turning into mush as you hold him there, kissing him deeply again, squishing his cheeks between your hands and he smiles into the kiss, biting your bottom lip playfully, letting lets it snap back into place, making you whine softly. “Talk to me baby.” It’s barely audible, and he says it with ease, like he’s been calling you that for a long time and your eyes almost roll back at the pet name. A few hours ago, you were high on nerves because of him and now you’re just high on him, touching you and kissing you and calling you ‘baby’, like he owns you.
Your thumbs caress his cheekbones before you trail your hands back up into his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp and he closes his eyes, humming in satisfaction. “Want you,” You murmur and kiss the side of his mouth as you drag a hand down his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze, before sneaking down to his hand that’s casually resting on your ass like it belongs there. You interlock your fingers with his, bringing both your hands between your bodies, guiding him under the front of your short dress, pressing his fingers against the seat of your lacy underwear. “Here.” You whisper against his lips and he inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring and you almost laugh at his reaction. Your leg wraps securely around him urging him closer by pushing the calf into his ass.
“Jesus Christ.” He whispers and his eyes are on his hand as his fingers now start rubbing slowly against your sensitive clit, the delicate lace somewhat helping with the much-needed friction, but you desperately want to feel his skin on yours with no barrier.
You kiss him again and he pliantly parts his lips for your tongue to invade, allowing you to taste the remnants of cherry ice. Your wet muscle glides against his slowly, and you moan when he pushes the flimsy material of your panties aside, like he’s read your mind. The moan turns into a whine when his middle and ring fingers make direct contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles around the nub with precision, like he knows exactly what you like and you kiss him harder trying to distract yourself from the sensitivity, because there’s no way you’re cumming just from a few touches like a horny teenager.
You both moan in the kiss the moment his fingers dip lower and drag through your wet slit and he doesn’t waste a second, rubbing up and down slowly, spreading the wetness messily.
“You're soaked, fuck.” he mumbles in awe and you bask in the feeling of him finally knowing how much you want him; how much you need him to do something about it. “Messy baby.” His filthy words cloud your brain as your head lulls back against the wall to watch his face. He looks so pretty, his bottom lip trapped in his mouth, his glazed eyes focused on his hand still working between your legs.
He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up at you and watches your reaction with a satisfied expression as the tip of his middle finger catches at your entrance before coming back up to your clit, spreading more of your wetness. He smirks when your jaw drops and your eyes roll back as he starts rubbing the bundle of nerves in firm and quick side-to-side motions with three of his fingers.
"You're so pretty." He mutters against your lips and your stomach flutters at the words, along with your pussy.
“Fuck.” You whine when you feel him delicately suckle on your bottom lip, his tongue playfully dipping out to lick before he starts kissing down to your neck again and your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him close, tugging at the fabric of his shirt in desperation. “So good.” You breathe into the night air, relishing in the intense pleasure the pads of his digits are giving you, flicking with just the right amount of pressure, exactly how yours would.
“Wanna make you cum.” He breathes heavily into your neck, dragging his lips up until he gently bites your earlobe. His fingers move faster now, abusing your poor clit, circling and massaging harder, and you feel a bead of sweat rolling down the back of your bent knee.
“Yeah, want it.” You nod eagerly, your hips jolting forward and he inhales sharply.
“Yeah, baby?” His eyes on you now. “Think you can take it?” His fingers now slowing down, teasing.
“Uh-huh.” You manage to get out in urgency as his fingers dip down again. “Please.” You stare into his eyes, and you feel yours starting to water when his middle and ring fingers slowly slide into you with ease. Your jaw drops, the stretch delicious and so needed, so welcome. Your vision blurs when he slowly starts pumping them in and out, testing the waters first and your eyes roll back in relief. A squeal escapes you when he curls his fingers just the right amount and starts fucking in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace, like he’s on a mission.
“Oh fuck!” You exclaim in shock, your hand flying to his bicep as you look down at his hand, the veins protruding on his tan arm, the sight so sinful you have to close your eyes again. The heel of his palm rubbing against your clit each time he fucks into you, creates a deliciously warm vibration. The sounds are obscene, your wetness making every thrust loud.
Another pornographic moan breaks out of you when his pace gets a little rougher and Haechan has to shut you up with a hand on your mouth. Your shaky fingers are clawing at his chest, over his shirt, and he lets out a low grunt against the hand he’s got pressed on your mouth, his forehead resting on yours and his eyes closing when you clench around his fingers. Your legs start shaking from the intense pleasure and he opts to wrapping his arm securely around your waist in order to help you maintain your compromised balance. He doesn’t hesitate to replace his hand with his lips, silencing you with a wet, tongue-filled kiss, swallowing all your noises. You’re not really kissing him back, your lips parted against his at a pathetic attempt of reciprocating, just panting and whining, completely lost in pleasure.
“I’m so close.” You whisper and you feel like you’re on the verge of crying.
“I’ve got you, baby, c'mon.” He murmurs into the messy kiss breathlessly, saliva coating both your chins and you love every second of it. The pads of his fingers now abusing the spongy spot at the front of your walls at an intense speed, hitting it just perfectly and you think you might pass out. Your walls flutter around his fingers, sucking him in and you're sure he can tell you're right there. Slick is dripping down his wrist, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. “Fuck yeah, there it is.”
“Haechan, I'm-“ Your eyes slightly widen, and you can’t even finish your sentence as you stumble over the edge. “Oh my god.” Your voice strained, your lungs struggling to keep up. The heat from where his fingers are burying repeatedly, starts spreading and your stomach clenches. Your walls clamp down on his hand, kneading his fingers and for a second, his eyes close, seeming to enjoy the constricting feeling. Your own eyes roll back at the pleasure, eyebrows creased, jaw dropping in a silent moan, breaths coming out quick and you're sure he can feel your leg shaking uncontrollably against his hip.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” His words make you smile in your daze, and you bite on your bottom lip knowing he finds pleasure in your own. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, letting you ride out your high for as long as possible and when your eyes open, you see him watching your face in awe, and ironically, you feel shy.
His fingers slow down when you whine from overstimulation, until he completely halts and buries them inside to enjoy the feeling of your sensitive walls for a little longer. He kisses your cheek sweetly as he carefully pulls out of you, his fingers bumping lightly against your clit, causing you to flinch. He buries his face in your neck to conceal his laugh, hot breath fanning against your damp skin as he scatters little kisses.
You sigh and relax contently when his warm hand cups your soaked centre and he keeps it there in a comforting manner.
"Good?” He whispers, nose delicately rubbing against your flushed skin and you almost don’t hear him due to the ringing in your ears still lingering after the intense high.
"Yeah." Your forehead is sweaty; you feel baby hairs sticking to the damp skin and you lazily smile at how fast his heart is beating against your palm. Your eyes are staring dreamily at his face and you rub your nose against his, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek affectionately. Your thumb drags across his bottom lip and he bites on it playfully, his nose scrunching cutely, making you swoon. It scares you how comfortable you already feel around him.
Your leg drops from his hip, and you wince at the soreness. His hand now trapped between your legs, still cupping your heat. An idea pops into your head, making you smirk and he watches your expression with an inquisitive look, eyebrows raising slightly in question.
"What?" He asks, eyes innocent, seemingly lost.
You firmly wrap a hand around his wrist, trying not to whimper when you feel his fingers drag against your sensitive clit and your hold tightens. He lets you lift his hand between both your faces, his eyes inspecting the strings of wetness stretching between his long digits. Without warning you lean forward, wrapping your swollen lips around the two fingers that were inside you just a few minutes ago and Haechan whimpers at the sinful gesture. It’s erotic, filthy and you don’t even know what took over you but you certainly relish in his reaction. Your eyes watching him carefully, his pupils dilated as he watches you hungrily, cheeks flushed, swollen lips parted prettily.
“Shit, baby.” His voice on the whiny side now, and you feel his other hand tightening on your hip. He’s very clearly turned on and you almost feel bad for torturing him, considering he’s done nothing but please you. He pushes his fingers deeper inside your mouth wanting you to taste yourself and you swirl your tongue around them, harshly sucking, making a mess on purpose. You let a satisfied hum around his digits, closing your eyes as you pull them out with a wet pop.
“You’re being unfair now.” He grunts and grabs the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Teeth clashing and tongues tangling messily as he licks into your mouth obscenely, moaning at the taste of you. You let out a surprised yelp when his fingers find your oversensitive cunt again and he dips them between your puffy lips, rubbing them up and down, like he did before, unforgivingly ignoring your protesting sounds. “Still so wet.” He mutters into the kiss and you whine pathetically.
“Mmf-, too much.” You force the words out against his mouth and grab his wrist in urgency this time. He laughs meanly but obliges anyway. He brings his soaked fingers up to his own lips this time and you can’t seem to be able to break eye contact as he slowly sucks on them, making a spectacle, the act much more intimate when he’s the one doing it.
Once he’s done, he drops his hand on your waist, wiping the wetness on the material of his hoodie and kisses you again, this time slow, languidly, wanting to savour your taste and he moans when your hands start unbuckling his belt. “Can I make you cum?” You murmur into the kiss and he’s contemplating but just as he's about to kiss you again, the moment is ruined by a wandering Jaemin, who rolls the doors open and lets out a shocked sound when he steps out.
“Oh shit, sorry.” His eyes widen when he realises it’s you and Haechan he’s walked in on and not a couple of strangers. “Oh shit.” He says again, with more emphasis this time and you bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. His arm around your waist tightens in reassurance, sensing your unease and you smile against his neck in silent gratitude. “Yo!” Jaemin says loudly and points an accusatory finger at both of you. "What the fuck? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“Jaem, read the fucking room.” Haechan’s tone is slightly harsh but his touch feels delicate where his hand strokes gently on your waist. “Go back inside, we’ll join you in a bit.”
Jaemin grins mischievously. “Well, most people have gone home now, I just came out to have a smoke, but I’ll leave you to it.” He moves to head back inside but before shutting the big glass door he pokes his head out again. “Oh, just fyi, Chenle is passed out on the sofa and Mark is still in there somewhere, just in case you’re planning on fucking out here.” His expression then changes, eyes narrowing as he inspects both of you from head to toe, a look of realisation taking over his face.
“Unless you already have?” He poses quizzically.
“You’ll go back inside now, unless you want Jeno finding out about last-“
”Kay bye!” Jaemin quickly shuts the door, fleeing the scene before Haechan can finish his sentence.
“Sorry about him.” Haechan mutters, burying his face into your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “Half his brain cells appear to be dead.” You snort at his jokey comment but you can sense the irritation in his voice. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching on the back of his neck and smile to yourself when you feel him shiver against you, his cheek resting on your shoulder.
He lifts his head, looking down your figure as his hands slide down your hips and onto the tops of your thighs, dipping under the hem of your dress and before you can protest, he slips your underwear back into place. His knuckles drag against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and your breath hitches when you feel him tap his fingers against your core lightly. He laughs when you slap his hand away and you narrow your eyes at him scoldingly. You relax when he smooths over the fabric of your dress to make it look less wrinkled and you find yourself fighting a smile at the sweet gesture. It feels domestic almost.
“Thanks.” You say softly, eyes locking with his. He smiles and leans down to quickly peck you on the lips. His hands caress your sides one last time and then they slide up, squeezing your tits softly in the process, the pads of his fingers lightly dipping into the flesh that spills over the top of your tight dress.
”Pretty.” He mumbles almost to himself and if you were under the impression he was an ass man, now you're thinking you might have been wrong. He continues his journey upwards, taming your messy hair, gently combing stray strands behind your ears. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
When you step back inside, you both quietly laugh at the sight of poor Chenle sprawled face first on his new sofa and you’re pretty sure he’s drooling on it. Haechan heads into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, which he places on the coffee table next to Chenle’s unmoving body. He then maneuvers him carefully, turning him on his side so he doesn’t choke to death in his sleep with his face buried in the cushions. You smile at the thoughtful gesture, and you move to grab your bag from the coffee table to distract yourself from the fluttering in your stomach.
“’Will he be okay on his own?” A tinge of concern in his eyes.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He always passes out like this when he gets too drunk.” You lean down and leave a small kiss on Chenle’s temple, brushing the hair away from his forehead. “I’d say he looks angelic but he’s actually the devil incarnate.” You whisper, observing Chenle’s cute face, and you can confirm he’s actually drooling on his sofa.
_
The walk back to your place is mostly quiet but comfortable. Haechan swings your interlocked hands distractedly as you’re both walking at a slow pace, trying to prolong the night for as long as possible.
“What’s Jaemin’s dirty laundry then? You threatened him you’d tell Jeno earlier.” You break the silence and he chuckles at your question.
“He had sex in Jeno’s bed last year.” He chuckles as he spills the secret and looks at you, gauging your reaction.
“Sounds like someone needs to teach that boy a lesson.” You say, and before you can stop the words tumbling out of your mouth, “Maybe we should fuck in his bed.” Your eyes widen at your own words and Haechan’s head snaps up to look you, mirroring your shocked expression. And then he laughs loudly. A kind of laugh you’ve never heard from him. His hand rests on his abdomen as if his stomach is in pain.
“Alright it’s not that funny.” You pout in embarrassment. “In my head it sounded kind of sexy.”
His laugh gradually dies down until there’s just amusement written on his face. “I mean, we can do that if you actually want to, but I have other priorities.”
“Meaning?”
“Well..” He trails in thought. “Ideally, I'd like to take you out first,” You feel like exploding but you maintain a stoic expression, gesturing him to continue. “And I'd rather fuck you in my own bed before moving on to Jaemin’s or anyone else’s.”
Your breath catches at his forwardness and you’re suddenly struggling to find the right words. “Umm,” you think carefully. “What about my bed?” You ask innocently.
"Don't worry, it's up there." His smirk makes you feel weak and you feel him squeeze your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it.
“You sound awfully confident.” You say calmly, fighting a smile.
He pulls you closer by your hand. “What, you think I’m playing?” He almost sounds offended.
“I dunno, don’t really know much about you.” You shrug.
“Do you want to?” He asks and for the first time he sounds nervous.
You squeeze his hand the same way he did with yours, hoping to reassure him. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I do.” You halt your movements when you reach your building and look up into his eyes. “A lot.” His fingers stay intertwined with yours lazily. A relieved smile takes over his expression, and you really feel like kissing him again. He looks shy all of a sudden and a giggle escapes your throat. “Cute.”
He clicks his tongue to show annoyance, and you can see him poking the muscle against the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a smile when he looks away for a second. Then he steps closer, invading your space again. “You wanna give me your number? I don’t really use instagram.”
“Okay, green flag.” You say playfully and he snorts. You hold your hand out for him to pass you his phone and when you’ve saved your contact, you text yourself a “hi” so you can save his number too.
“Cool.” He says casually as he shoves his phone in his back pocket.
“Cool.” You say back and step closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth one more time before parting ways. He smiles in understanding and pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist to hold your body flush against his. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his chest. “I had fun tonight.” You murmur.
He rests his chin at the top of your head. One of his hands sneaks up and holds the back of your neck gently while the other strokes the small of your back. “I did too.” His fingers bury in your hair, gently pulling to make you look at him but you don’t get the chance, because his lips are on yours instantly, dragging slowly, carefully. Both his hands cup your face as he licks your bottom lip for access, which you give without a second thought and his tongue sneaks in to play with yours, letting you taste him. Your body completely relaxes against his, enjoying the warm feeling of his chest against yours.
You whine when he pulls back to look at you and he smiles when your lips trail after his. He gives in with a smile, chastely kissing you again. No tongue this time, but he playfully sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you love how safe you feel in his arms. He trails up, kissing the tip of your nose and back down again as he gives you another wet smooch before creating a tiny bit of distance between your lips while still maintaining the closeness between your bodies.
You smile against his jaw as you slip your hand into his empty back pocket, lightly squeezing his ass cheek and he laughs at your playfulness.
“Okay, you better go now before I drag you upstairs with me.” You give him a little kiss on the cheek before slipping away from his warmth. You take off his hoodie and hand it back to him.
"Mmm okay." He moves away reluctantly. “I’ll text you yeah?” He says with a cute smile.
“I’ll try and text you back.” You tease and he rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering.
“Night, Y/N.” He quietly says in the night air and you melt at the way your name rolls off his tongue.
“Night, Haechan.” You give him a small wave goodbye and watch him walk away.
_
The next morning, you're quietly munching on your cereal, lost in thought, reminiscing last night like it’s a distant memory, when you see a hungover Jeno messily stumbling out of Ningning's room, carrying his shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other. "Didn't care to take off your shoes at the door?" Your voice seems to startle him in the quiet of the morning.
"Shit!" His reaction making you laugh. "Fuck, Y/N, you scared me."
"Sorry." You're really not. "Are you pulling a French exit on my friend?" Your serious tone seems to intimidate him.
"No, she's awake, just snoozing." He says quickly. "I swear." You try not to laugh at the nervousness written all over his face. "Nothing happened, we just cuddled."
"Relax, I'm just fucking with you." You chuckle at his disheveled state. "Want some breakfast? I can offer three kinds of cereal." You point at your selection of boxes.
His eyes widen eagerly at that. "Sure, thanks." He walks towards where you're sitting at the kitchen table, dropping his shoes on the floor and his jacket on the back of his chair, before taking a seat across from you. "I'll just have what you're having." He says with a sweet smile, eyes almost disappearing and you realise he sort of looks like a Samoyed puppy but refrain from making a comment. You’re not that close after all.
You nod and get up to grab him a bowl. He's looking at his phone when he speaks up again. "So, you and Haechan?" You hold back a smile as you pass him a bowl with a spoon and the milk. He looks at you again and he explains when he sees your questioning stare. "Jaemin messaged the group chat."
"Ah," You nod in understanding. "Of course."
"So?" He asks expectantly, chewing loudly after he's poured the milk in his cheerios.
"What, you can't wait until he tells you himself?" You ask sarcastically.
"Girls' perspectives are always better." He pauses mid munch. "Plus, Haechan is the most private dude when it comes to stuff like that." For some reason that doesn't surprise you.
"Good for him." You get up to wash your bowl after finishing. "Maybe you're just too nosy."
"Oh c'mon, it's not that big of a deal, is it?" Your silence seems to intrigue him. "Or maybe it is?"
You turn to look at him when you're done washing up, leaning next to the sink and you see he's already devoured the contents of his bowl. "Feel free to go for seconds." You say pointing at the box in front of him and his face lights up before he starts pouring more cereal.
"Do you like him then?" He asks casually as he starts munching again and the question makes you falter. "Because, if you do," He swallows. "I can confirm it's reciprocated." Your eyebrows lift at his confession and Jeno smirks at your shocked expression. "Just spill, I won't tell him." And you trust his words, but you suddenly feel shy, thinking about your intimate moments with Haechan.
"I'll tell you if you tell me about you and Ning." You like knowing boys' perspectives too.
"Sounds fair." He nods with his mouth full.
"You want the TMI or PG-13 version?" You appreciate he's still eating so you don't want to ruin his breakfast.
"TMI, always." He says casually.
"He fingered me on Chenle's balcony and then said he wants to take me out." Jeno chokes at your confession.
"Jesus woman!" He coughs lightly and clears his throat before continuing. "No tact whatsoever."
You snort at his reaction. "You said 'TMI always' no?"
"Was it good?" He asks in a quieter and more serious tone now. Like he's asking you to share one of your deepest secrets. And here you were thinking you weren’t that close. You can’t help but laugh because that sounds like what Ningning would have asked in a situation like this. Maybe they are a good match after all.
"The fingering?" He nods at your question, eyes not leaving yours, having paused his eating, spoon still in hand hovering over his bowl. "I mean, I thought I was gonna pass out at some point so, yeah, pretty good."
An eyebrow raised in fascination. "Damn, go Haechan." Then he asks carefully. "So, I take it you'd go out with him?"
You shrug. "Maybe, but I don’t think I want a situationship or anything like that."
"You're in luck, he's not into that shit either."
"We'll see, he hasn't texted yet." You try to sound casual but you know Jeno can see right through you.
"Don't worry, he will."
"Who says I'm worried?" You huff a humorless laugh.
He rolls his eyes and gets up to walk over to the sink, taking his bowl with him. "If he said he wants to take you out, he meant it. And trust me when I say, that boy has had enough of casual flings. He might be going about it a bit backwards, but he’s definitely interested." He states like it's a fact and you're thankful he's trying to reassure you even though he doesn't owe you anything.
"How do you know it's reciprocated?" You ask carefully, referring to what Jeno said earlier and he smiles cheekily.
"I thought you weren't worried." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down and you flick the back of his head. "Ow! Okay okay, jeez." He rubs the sore spot with the inside of his wrist to prevent his soapy fingers from touching his hair. He then proceeds to dry the clean bowl with the kitchen towel he spots on the counter and hands it to you with a sweet smile on his face.
"Thanks, you didn't have to wash up." You say, putting the bowl back on its shelf. He waves his hand, gesturing that there's no need to thank him for something so small.
"He said he thought you were ‘pretty cool’ after we hounded you on Thursday and for the first time in, like, forever, he was stressing about his outfit before a party."
You give him a pointed look. "How’s that an indication of anything?"
"Trust me, that's enough indication for Haechan. He's probably already planning your wedding as we speak." You roll your eyes at his exaggeration. "Y/N, he likes you. It was so obvious that both me and Jaem knew he was gonna make a move last night." He sits down again and starts putting his shoes on. "Obviously, I didn't think he was gonna finger you in a public space and what not but-"
"To be fair, I initiated that." You interrupt him and he snorts.
"I'm sure he didn't mind." Jeno jokes with a smirk, and you cover your face in embarrassment, earning a chuckle from him. He must be enjoying this because he proceeds to tease even more. "If anything, he probably found that incredibly hot." You groan at his words. "Seriously, there's nothing hotter than a woman who knows what she wants."
You look at him through your fingers still covering your face, a teasing comment pops in your head. Two can certainly play this game.
"That explains why you didn't sleep in your own bed last night." You notice the blush that creeps up on his cheeks and you can help but cross your arms over your chest proudly.
"Yeah, something like that." He says sheepishly, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and you suddenly can't wait for your debrief with Ningning later. "Anyway, my point is, I think you should give him a chance." He finishes putting his shoes on, both feet on the floor now and he looks at you, his back leaning against the chair and his arms crossing over his chest. "He's a great guy."
"Alright, enough about me, your turn now."
_
Haechan likes to think he's a decent guy. He's got his life together; he's on top of his coursework, he gets decent grades, he's got good friends and he's got a part-time job at a record store that pays relatively well. At least well enough to cover his own personal expenses. His parents help him out with rent, but they do appreciate his efforts and he does his best to not feel like a burden. He's a good son and a good big brother to all three of his siblings.
He's polite to old people and even helps them cross the street when he needs to, he loves his friends and always looks out for them, even if he gets grumpy sometimes, he never holds grudges and is upfront about things that bother him. He likes buying his loved ones presents and not just for special occasions. Not because he's a people pleaser, but because he just likes making them happy whenever he can. He tries not to lie except for the odd white lie here and there.
He doesn't fuck around or date aimlessly. At least not anymore. He went through a phase during his first year of uni but it's been two years since then and he's currently embracing single life. Yes, he sometimes does cave into the temptation of bringing a girl back after a party, but it's a rare occurrence and he's always honest about what he wants. He hates leading people on. It's not that he's afraid of commitment, he often finds himself wanting a girlfriend but he's not actively searching for one either.
He knows he doesn't lack in the looks department, or in any other department really. Yeah, he's got his silly insecurities like everyone else but he's a confident guy overall. Although, he does admit that he can sometimes be cocky, that's because he knows he's the most mature out of his friends. Yes, Renjun mostly looks after everyone and has a motherly figure, but Haechan gives the best advice when it comes to most serious life dilemmas, and he's aware of that. He might not be the brightest when it comes to academics but he's confident when it comes to navigating life sensibly and responsibly. That's why he was completely and utterly flabbergasted when you came into the picture. His picture.
He's always noticed you before, yes, and he's always thought you were good looking, but that's about it. He doesn't just go around hitting on every girl he finds attractive. He's more of a 'personality above all else' type of man, so when he first saw you, even though he thought to himself 'wow, pretty', he didn't think it would be appropriate to just come up to you and ask for your number. Plus, you seemed somewhat reserved from the few times you had exchanged words. Not that he didn't like that, because he did, he did find you intriguing, he would get to know you if the opportunity posed itself to him, but he also didn't feel like chasing after you would be something you'd like or even welcome. You didn't seem cold, just indifferent. And so, he kind of just opted to observing you from afar.
Sometimes you were alone, other times you were with a girl whose name he didn't know, others with a boy whose name he couldn't remember. He was sure they'd met before though, maybe at a party around campus or maybe through a friend? He couldn't quite place him. Other times you were with them both, laughing your heart out at whatever you three were talking about and he found himself wondering what makes you laugh that hard.
He knew you always sat two rows behind him in his stats class every Thursday afternoon, his last class of that day. However, he rarely got to see you on Thursdays, even though you were both in the same room for an hour and a half. You always arrived after him and left before him, so, whenever he turned his head at the end of the lecture to look for you, you were already gone. The times he did get to see you, were the times he would turn up a little later than normal, which was exactly one minute before the professor started speaking. Even then, he wasn't really able to observe you for as long as he'd ideally like. He would just get to see the back of your head for a few seconds before reaching his usual seat. He sometimes would pretend to crack his back, just to turn around twice and look at your pretty face for a few seconds. Your attention was always on the notes in front of you though. One time he did catch you already staring at him. You looked away the second his eyes met yours, almost shy. He found it cute and thought to himself; 'maybe she's not that indifferent after all'.
He knew you and Jeno were somewhat friendly because you shared a few classes and he was sure he'd caught you speaking with Jaemin a couple times in corridors. He wasn't jealous or anything, but he definitely wouldn't mind being on first name basis with you too. And it's not like he was obsessed with you. He didn't really think about you that much, but his intrigue definitely intensified when he got to speak to you properly for the first time at that party just before summer. He can’t clearly remember what you two exactly talked about, but he does remember not wanting to leave, he remembers thinking you looked unreal and he certainly remembers wishing he could relive that moment sober so he could memorise every word that came out of your mouth.
Things have changed now though. Drastically and unexpectedly. Because just two days ago he got to speak to you again and his curiosity morphed into excitement.
You pleasantly surprised him. From the way you handled yourself around Jaemin's obnoxiously loud personality to the way you put Jeno in his place like no girl ever has before. You were witty and smart and sweet. Too sweet. And he knows that, because he's quite literally tasted you now. Just a few hours ago he had you pinned against the wall of your friend's new apartment. Just a few hours ago he had you gasping and writhing and pathetically whining his name, simply because his fingers were too much for you. And he loved every second of it.
Haechan didn't really go to Chenle's party thinking he'd get some. He was just excited to get to know you and speak to you one on one. He went into the situation hoping he could maybe flirt with you and end up with your number in his contact list at the end of the night, which he did. And maybe he was hoping he could get to walk you home and get a kiss from you, which again, he did. But he didn't expect you'd reciprocate his flirting like you were prepared for it. He definitely didn't expect you'd ask him who and what he wants to write songs about and he definitely didn't expect you to kiss him back the way you did.
He's kissed many people before. He's had good kisses, bad ones, a few memorable ones and certainly a lot of forgettable ones. He's never kissed anyone the way he kissed you, though. And he's equally never had anyone kiss him the way you kissed him. Not even ex-girlfriends. Not that he's had many, but the two he's had don't even come close. And that scares him. Because if Haechan thought he wasn't obsessed with you before, he really doesn't know what to think now. But what he does know is that it’s incredibly unfair of you to make him feel and think this much, this soon.
It's still early, the sun barely out. He's maybe managed to get four hours of sleep before getting woken up by the sound of someone retching in the bathroom down the hall. Most likely Jaemin. He almost fell asleep again after that but the sound of a door slamming, completely ruined his slumber. So, now he's just staring at his ceiling, one arm supporting his head on the pillow and the other resting lazily on his naked stomach. He feels tired but he knows he won't be able to go back to sleep now. And that's fine, because he can at least think about you. He can think about your voice and your scent and he can think about how you touched him and how you let him touch you. He can think about how you tried to keep quiet in the midst of pleasure but miserably failed repeatedly. And he's definitely going to think about how good you felt around his fingers. Perfect. There are so many things he can think about when it comes to you and there's not a single bad one. Everything related to you is good.
You said you wanted to get to know him 'a lot', and that was exactly what he wanted to hear, but he can't help but wonder when you started to feel this way. Not that it matters that much, because, regardless of the timeline, he's going to make it happen. He's going to take you out and he's going to get to know you. He's almost worried that he's going about this in the wrong order, because, ideally, he would have wanted to take you out before any kissing and sexual activities took place. Not because he's old fashioned or some kind of prude, but because he doesn't want you getting the wrong impression. He doesn't want you thinking he's only into you because of the sexual chemistry you share. Of course, he thinks physical intimacy is important, but he's always found that emotional intimacy beats all. And he wants to see if he can get to that level with you. He knows you're compatible sexually, he could tell last night you were on the same wavelength. There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty.
He could tell you knew your body well, that you knew what you wanted and he liked that you weren't shy about it. And he'd be lying if he said that wasn't one of his favourite parts of the night; the moment you guided his hand where you wanted it. He found that so attractive that he actually thought about it when he got in his bed last night and finally managed to relieve the hardness in his boxers. He loved that you weren't shy about how much you wanted him to touch you. You were the perfect amount of vocal, and your body reacted to his words the way he hoped it would. So, yes, he is positive sexual chemistry isn’t something you two would struggle with, but he also doesn't want it to be the main thing that you connect on. He wants a lot more than that.
Haechan is self-aware. He's a horny guy and he's not shy about it. He likes what he likes and there's not much he doesn't like when it comes to sex. He's very much open to exploring and what not, but he knows that he's always struggled connecting with people on an emotional level before. Especially people he's dated. He's had flings and he's had casual sexual partners. He's been in a couple of serious relationships, and he's been infatuated with his ex-girlfriends or ex flings, but he knows he’s never been in love with any of them. He remembers thinking he loved his first girlfriend, but he was only 16 back then and when he thinks back to that relationship, he barely sees it as a relationship. All they ever did was go on walks, watch movies, cuddle and make out. Eventually it just fizzled out.
His second relationship was serious, but toxic. He remembers enjoying the push-and-pull situation initially but when it all became so unbearably exhausting, it put him off relationships for a long time. Now that he's had time to be alone and process his own feelings, he knows he's capable of commitment, but he wants it to be with the right person, and he wants it to be with someone who will accept him for who he is. Haechan knows that if he found the one now, he would commit. And he doesn't know if you're the one, but he wouldn't mind exploring if you would stick around for the long run.
And so, later in the day, when he's lazily sprawled on the sofa, next to a hungover Jeno, who apparently saw you this morning and reassured him that you're definitely interested, Haechan decides to finally text you like he promised. When he opens your chat, he sees you've already texted yourself to save his number and added a little sunflower emoji next to your name and he smiles to himself. He wonders if you've added an emoji next to his name too and if so, which one?
20:03 Hae☀️: hey pretty
20:03 Hae☀️: have any free periods tomorrow?
20:09 y/n🌻: hii :)
20:09 y/n🌻: i do
20:10 y/n🌻: I am free between 1pm-3pm
20:11 Hae☀️: wanna grab a coffee with me?
20:12 y/n🌻: i'd love to
20:13 Hae☀️: woop!
20:13 Hae☀️: where shall I meet you?
20:18 y/n🌻: how about the café by the architecture building?
20:21 Hae☀️: i know the one
20:21 Hae☀️: i'll be there there at 1pm sharp
20:22 Hae☀️: don't stand me up 👉🏻👈🏻
20:24 y/n🌻: i would never 🥺
20:25 Hae☀️: thought about you a lot today
20:26 y/n🌻: really?
20:26 y/n🌻: what did you think about?
20:28 Hae☀️: yes really
20:28 Hae☀️: just...things
20:29 Hae☀️: can't say much more than that
20:29 Hae☀️: did you not think about me? :(
20:31 y/n🌻: nah
20:31 y/n🌻: not really :(
20:32 Hae☀️: 🙄
20:32 Hae☀️: ur rude
20:32 Hae☀️: and a liar
20:34 y/n🌻: oops
20:34 y/n🌻: why ask a question you already know the answer to?
20:35 Hae☀️: smooth
20:35 Hae☀️: i guess i needed some reassurance
20:36 y/n🌻: Hae?
20:36 Hae☀️: yea?
20:37 y/n🌻: I thought about you
20:37 y/n🌻: a lot
20:37 y/n🌻: like an unhealthy amount
20:38 Hae☀️: fuck
20:38 Hae☀️: didn't think you'd actually say it
20:40 y/n🌻: happy?
20:40 y/n🌻: it appears I can't say no to you
20:41 Hae☀️: very :)
20:41 Hae☀️: it appears the feeling is mutual
The rest of Haechan's evening consists of him pretending he's paying attention to the Netflix show Jeno picked out for them to watch after dinner, when the only thing he's actually interested in are the messages he's exchanging with you. You told him you're also chilling on your couch with Ningning, watching a crime documentary with a bowl of instant ramen.
"Bruh, you're astronomically whipped." Jeno laughs to himself, the constant buzzing coming from Haechan's phone making it obvious that he's been messaging you.
"Yeah, so? Deal with it." Haechan doesn't even lift his head to look at Jeno, just keeps smiling distractedly at his screen.
Jeno snorts. "At least you're not denying it." He turns his attention back to the show he's practically been watching on his own for the past hour. "I respect that."
Haechan looks up at Jeno and shrugs. "I'm no fraud, Lee Jeno. You, of all people, should know that." And that earns him laugh with a nod of approval.
“You asked her out yet?” The question casual. No teasing tone detected, just curiosity.
"I'm seeing her tomorrow between classes." Haechan's attention back on your chat.
“Like a coffee date?” Jeno asks cutely and Haechan just responds with a nod, his thumbs hovering over his keyboard as he looks up at Jeno, waiting for some sort of comment.
“That's a good first date.” Jeno's words of approval offer Haechan a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. "Just good quality time, no pressure."
“Yeah, that's what I was thinking.” Haechan's eyes are on the tv now, but he isn't really paying attention to the programme.
Jeno sees right through him. "You nervous?"
Haechan thinks about his response. Is he nervous? “More excited than nervous, I'd say.” Haechan looks up at him when he's met with silence. "What?" He asks confused when he notices his friend's amused expression.
“Nothing, just trying to think when you turned into an absolute sap.” And he laughs loudly when Haechan hits him in the face with one of the cushions scattered on the sofa. “Relaaaaax you big baby, I'm just messing with you.” Jeno throws the cushion back at Haechan and he catches is with a grunt. “I actually think this is good. You haven't dated anyone half decent in a long time.”
Haechan snorts, because Jeno's words hold nothing but the truth. “True.” He states with a purse of his lips.
“If your first date is casual vibes, you should do something fancy for the second one.” Jeno says in a skeptical tone.
“Since when are you a dating expert?”
“Shut up, you've been dying to ask for advice and you know it.” He's right, but Haechan would never admit that. “It should also be on a Friday or Saturday so you don't have to worry about being hungover in class.” Jeno points a finger at Haechan. “Karaoke could be fun!”
“Where are you taking Ningning?” Jeno's eyes widen at the question and Haechan chuckles triumphantly. "You ever gonna tell me about that or nah?"
“Your new girlfriend can tell you all about it tomorrow.” Jeno crosses his arms over his chest after pulling the hood of his jumper over his head.
“Yeah, we're gonna spend the entirety of our first date talking about your sexcapades.” Haechan responds sarcastically.
“No sexcapades, she said she's not currently dating.” Jeno says quickly with a frown.
“And that's a problem for you, because..?” Haechan gestures with his hand for Jeno to explain. “Is your ego hurt or something?”
Jeno shrugs his shoulders like a toddler. “Just a bit disappointing, you know?”
“Shit.” Haechan says with a tone of fascination. “So, you're into her then.”
Jeno shrugs with a huff and Haechan almost feels bad.
“Did you sleep with her or nah?”
“Nah, just cuddled.” Jeno admits, voice laced with disappointment.
“Jeno,” Haechan pinches the bridge of his nose to show exasperation. “You're an idiot.”
“Wha- why?” Jeno's eyes widen at his friend's insult.
“Are you being daft on purpose? She would've fucked you and chucked you out if she wasn't interested.” Haechan is putting the facts out on the table as if it's going to help Jeno realise what is happening, but to no avail. “She's clearly aware of your reputation.”
Jeno perks up at that. "What about my reputation?" His eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.
Haechan kisses his teeth. "You're a certified slut."
“Yeah and? What am I meant to do?”
“Well, if you want her, you're gonna have to work for it.” Haechan says like it's self-explanatory.
"I don't chase." Jeno mumbles stubbornly.
"No Ningning then." And Jeno scoffs at Haechan's patronising tone. "Sounds like you're in need of advice more than I am."
_
You can't really wrap your head around the fact that you're currently walking to your favourite café in campus, only this time you're not meeting up with your two best friends, you’re meeting with Haechan instead. Fuck. You're meeting up with Haechan.
You don't even know if you're supposed to call this a date. He said he wanted to hang out with you and that he can't wait to see you, but people say all sorts of things, and you don't want to get ahead of yourself. You wonder if he's nervous like you are, or if he sees this as a casual coffee break in between his routine. But then again, if it's just that, why ask you and not one of his friends? You told yourself this morning that you wouldn't overthink, but you're now realising that you're miserably failing. Ningning would not be proud.
You check the time on your phone and that instant it buzzes in your hand. Your heart beats a little quicker.
12:55 Hae☀️: what do you want?
12:55 y/n🌻: in life or..?
12:56 Hae☀️: lmao
12:56 Hae☀️: to drink silly
12:56 Hae☀️: we can talk about what you want in life when you get here
12:57 y/n🌻: caramel iced latte pls and thank you :)
12:57 y/n🌻: im 2 mins away btw
12:57 Hae☀️: thought you didn't like sweet things
12:58 Hae☀️: no rush, just ordering now
12:58 y/n🌻: i like my coffee sweet
12:58 y/n🌻: among other things
12:59 Hae☀️: cheeky
12:59 y/n🌻: im here
13:00 y/n🌻: where you at?
13:00 Hae☀️: you look cute
13:00 Hae☀️: to your left
And there he is, sitting at a table by the window, already looking at you, head tilted, eyes pretty, smile saccharine sweet. His phone is still in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen and you notice there's a new ring adorning the digit. His other hand raises and his fingers wiggle, playfully waving at you. You already feel flustered and you think that it should be illegal for a man to be this handsome.
When you walk over, he stands up and casually lifts an arm for you to slot under. "Hey you." He says quietly and you smile. Your arms instinctively wrap around his middle, and your face buries in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent. It immediately brings you comfort, your overthinking long forgotten. You feel his arms squeezing around your figure and he playfully rocks you from side to side. You giggle and pull back slightly to look at him.
“Hey you.” You repeat his words back at him and his smile is nothing short of mesmerising. His lovely doe eyes hold warmth and tiny stars that you feel could burn you if you stare into them for too long, so you decide to look at the table instead. You spot your iced latte, placed opposite what you assume is an iced americano. “Thanks for getting my coffee, you didn't have to.”
“I wanted to.” He states plainly and unwraps his arms from you, allowing you to sit down before taking his own seat opposite you. It almost feels strange sitting with him like this, seeing him in this light. Not in a lecture hall and not at a party surrounded by your friends. Just the two of you, on a Monday, sitting at your favourite café, in the middle of the day. It’s real. It’s mundane. “Are you hungry? We can get something to eat if you want.” He speaks so fast, one would think he’s trying to cover up nerves.
You smile at his attentiveness and shake your head. “I’m good for now, thanks.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t press and you can’t help but think he looks so boyfriend coded. His big forest green jumper makes him look extra cuddly and you want to bury your face in his neck again. “Heard you bumped into Jeno yesterday.” He says, filling the silence before taking a sip of his coffee.
“Yeah, I interrupted his walk of shame.” You chuckle at the memory. “He looked quite embarrassed, bless him.” You twirl your straw, staring at the condensation dripping down your cup. “Didn’t realise he was that nosy though.” You say with a grin and your eyes move to look at Haechan who’s mirroring you.
His lips curl into a smirk. “Why, did he ask about-” He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. “About Saturday night.” His eyebrow raises inquisitively.
Your chin rests on your hand. “Mm-hm, apparently Jaemin messaged your group chat.”
Haechan snorts and you assume he knows which message you’re referring to. “Yeah, if you found Jeno nosy, good luck tolerating Jaemin.”
“I’m just hoping we didn’t scar him for life.”
“I mean,” he shrugs, gently tapping his fingers on the table surface. “He didn’t actually see anything.” His tone suggestive, eyes watching you, trying to gauge a reaction. “Had he walked out a few minutes earlier-”
“Shut up.” You warn and cover your eyes with both hands in embarrassment, smiling against your palms at the sound of his pretty laugh.
“C’monnnn,” he reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face so he’s able to look at you properly, while holding your hands in his, in the most delicate way. You stubbornly look away, trying to hide the blush that has taken over your face. “Aww don't be embarrassed.” He coos and squeezes your wrists in his hands, his thumbs sneaking under your sweater paws, rubbing gently against your pulse points, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t tease anymore today, I promise.” He says in a playful tone but you still don’t look at him and maintain the pout on your face. A quick kiss on the inside of your wrist earns him your attention and then another on the opposite one makes you break your resolve completely, your eyes now on his. “Yay, there she is.”
“You’re annoying.” You huff and he chuckles again.
“And you’re still blushing.”
You retract your hand from his hold and attempt to flick at his forehead, but he grasps it again before you’re able to. He interlocks his fingers with yours and gives you a toothy grin. His perfect teeth showing and his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “How do you expect me to not feel embarrassed when you act like-” You stop yourself from saying what's on your mind and he perks up at your hesitation, eyebrows raised.
“Like what?” He asks, his voice laced with intrigue.
“The way you do.” Your gaze moves to your connected hands, taking in the way his fingers look slotted between yours. Perfect. Like they belong there.
“You don’t like the way I act?” His bottom lip jutting out in a fake pout, gently stroking the back of your thumb with his own.
“No, I do but-” You observe how his palm opens against your own, fingers extending and yours instinctively mirror the action, elbows pressed on the table and your heart flutters at how big his hand looks compared to yours.
“But?” He’s also looking at your hands now and slots his fingers between yours again, his grip tight, his palm warm and you worry he can feel how clammy yours is.
“You’re just too forward.”
“Is that a bad thing?” His tone more serious now, his eyes observing you. “I told you; I never intended to be subtle with you.” His hold on your hand loosening. “But I can stop if you’re uncomfortable.”
“No.” Your hand tightening its hold, quietly indicating you don’t want him to let go and he sports a cheeky smile, like he expected you to react that way. “I’m just not used to this.”
His eyes are curious now. “Used to people being forward?” You nod at his question. He thinks about it for a moment. “You were pretty forward yourself the other night.”
“That’s different.” You say calmly.
“How come?”
“Nights like that don’t happen all the time.” You explain with a shrug, without giving away too much.
His expression softens, and his nods in understanding. “So, you knew you wanted me before the party then.” He says it like a statement but you know he’s asking as he watches you with expectant eyes. His hand leaves yours momentarily, dropping on the table, palm facing up, waiting for your own hand to drop back into his. And it does. You trace your fingertips from his wrist to the middle of his palm, drawing along the lines there. His own fingers raising slightly to tickle against your palm, tracing patterns and you feel giddy. He’s emitting this softness you’ve never encountered in a romantic partner before and you’re not sure if you can handle it. But you want to be able to.
“I did, yeah.” You admit with a smile, eyes finding his wide ones. “Why are you so surprised?”
“I just- I did too.” He bites the inside of his bottom lip in thought. “Just wasn’t sure how to approach you before.” Your own surprise evident. “Why are you so surprised?” He mimics your question with a playful tone.
“Since when?” You ask, wanting to know more.
He hums skeptically, and you feel his knee bumping into yours under the small table, “I mean, I’ve always been intrigued.” He moves again and you feel both his knees rubbing against yours now. “But I knew I was into you after we spoke at that party in June.” Both your knees are trapped between his now and you can’t help but feel flustered, your fingers limp in his palm while his index is still tracing the inside of your wrist. It slightly tickles but it’s welcome. “You?”
You could lie and say it was the same for you. That you realised you were interested when you finally spoke for the first time. But you don’t really want to, and you don’t see the point. “I think- I can’t really place it, but I was definitely interested before June.” You expect him to tease, but he just nods in understanding, gesturing you to continue. “And I could tell you were kind of flirting, when we briefly spoke last week, so, I thought Chenle's party was the perfect time to act on it.”
“So, you’ve had a crush on me?” He smirks and his knees squeeze yours between them, finally teasing you. "Cute.” He says under his breath, eyes move to your lips for a second and then up to your eyes again. “You should’ve said something sooner.” He raises his drink and his lips wrap around the straw and you can’t help but look, remembering what they felt like on yours, on your skin, what they looked like wrapped around his fingers when he wanted a taste of you.
“I didn’t think you would’ve reciprocated.” You say bashfully and he looks at you, like he finds your words absurd.
He puts his drink down again. “I'd be clinically insane.”
His words emit a small laugh from you. "Well, I'm glad you're somewhat sane."
"Do you wanna go for a walk?" The question unexpected and your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Sun's out again." He points his chin towards the window and you turn your head to look outside. The autumn leaves are still falling but he's right. The sun is out for the first time in a few days. "Promise I'll have you back by three." He says in a playful tone and you look back at him, pretending to consider his suggestion, even though, you know you won’t decline.
_
Haechan isn't really a big fan of autumn. He doesn't hate it, but he certainly likes summertime the most. He likes being able to walk down the beach with no layers on and no worry that it'll get cold late at night. He likes the way the sun feels on his skin and he definitely prefers the way he looks when he's sun kissed. He finds that everyone looks good in the sun.
He's always associated the idea of falling in love with a nice refreshing summer breeze; not necessary, because he's content in the heat, but definitely not unwanted.
The thought of summer always makes him miss home and look forward to the next time he's able to visit. If he's completely honest, Haechan always misses home a little bit, it's always occupying the back of his mind. The city; as fun as it is living here, has always felt too different. Too chaotic. Now that you're walking next to him though, he's not missing anything and he thinks it's the first time since he moved here, that he feels absolutely and utterly content. At peace even. Even in the chilly autumn air as you two walk through the park near your campus, surrounded by brown leaf covered trees.
"What's your favourite time of the year?" He can't help but ask the question when it pops into his head.
"Hmm I think this one." You lift a finger, gesturing to your surroundings and you pause for a moment skeptically. "I think it’s mostly because I prefer autumn fashion." He chuckles at your reasoning. "Hey, don't laugh," You protest. "I'd like summer more if I could lounge by a pool in a bikini whenever I wanted." You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly closing and he can tell you're enjoying the autumn air. "Autumn is just easier, plus, I love the smell of rain." You turn to look at him before looking ahead of you again. "What's yours? You give off major summer vibes."
He exhales a laugh through his nose. "Really? What gave it away?" He looks at your side profile as he waits for a response. He thinks you look so pretty in this gloomy setting and wonders if you’d look even prettier during his favourite season.
"Dunno." You seem to be in deep thought, your lips pursing and your eyes narrowing as you inspect his face carefully. "Maybe your tan?" And he mimics your expression, scrunching his nose too and you gently elbow him. "Did I get it right?" You ask hopefully.
"You sure did." He confirms, nodding proudly and a cheeky smile makes its way to your lips.
"Why summer then?" You ask with a curious lilt in your tone.
"I guess I associate summer with my childhood." He explains with a fond smile. "It reminds me of being-"
"Carefree?" You finish his sentence and he smiles, nodding slowly in agreement. "That makes sense." You validate his thought process in the sweetest voice and he can't help but feel a certain way that leads him to slip his hand into yours. He senses your hesitation and worries he's overstepped a boundary but instantly relaxes when he feels your fingers take their place between his. You're not looking at him, but he can sense you trying to conceal your flustered state by nonchalantly keeping your eyes on the pavement.
He suddenly remembers you've got a class to attend at 3pm and slips his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. "It's half two, we should probably start heading back." He reminds you, not wanting to be the reason you mess up your schedule for the day.
"Oh shit." Your eyes slightly widen at the realisation. "That was quick." You admit absentmindedly and he laughs softly.
"Hmmmm what can I say, time flies when you're with me." He says with a suggestive pointed grin.
"Didn't realise you were this deluded." You scoff, eyes rolling playfully.
"Hey now." He warns with a nudge against your shoulder and can't hide the amused grin on his face when you giggle. "You had fun, admit it."
"Mmmmaybe." You say with a cheeky smile, and he feels his pulse increasing. His chest constricts inevitably at how cute and soft you look. Your chin brushing your shoulder as you turn your head to look at him, batting your lashes seductively. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him.
“You act all brave now, but -” He stops walking, making you halt, and you turn to look at him. “I bet I could easily make you skip class, if I really wanted to.” He says suggestively, a cocky eyebrow raising when he takes in your surprised expression. He pulls you closer, pulling lightly at your hand that's still in his and you stumble, putting a hand on his chest to regain your balance. You look up at him, and he thinks 'there it is', there's that not-so-innocent look from Saturday night. You don't shy away or get flustered this time, you stand your ground, and he suddenly wants to ruin you. But he knows this is not the time and place and he curses internally for choosing to go on a stupid coffee date. He's definitely taking you out somewhere more intimate and romantic next time, like Jeno suggested.
"And how exactly would you do that?" You ask, testing his resolve, which, apparently, runs very thin when it comes to you.
He leans down so his lips are by your ear, the hand that's not holding yours, taking purchase on your waist. "I'd show you but you'd probably get all shy on me." He murmurs and relishes in the way your hand tightens its hold on the fabric of his jumper. He feels your breathing quicken and can't help but laugh at your reaction.
He moves to pull away and the second his eyes land on yours, your hand grabs the back of his neck and your lips crash on his. His breath hitches and his eyes widen at the impact, before he relaxes against you and kisses you back. He relishes in the feel of your soft lips sliding against his, and the warmth your body radiates when he pulls you closer with his arm around your waist and when he feels you sigh, body pliantly slotting into his, he wonders if someone if playing a prank on him, because there’s no way you’re this perfect for him. You wrap both your arms around his neck securely and he moves a hand to your hip, gently squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to your ass. You whimper when his tongue makes contact with your bottom lip and he feels you tilt your head to the side silently asking him to deepen the kiss, but he decides that the next time he has a full on make out session with you is going to be somewhere private. He bites your bottom lip lightly and gives you a quick peck before breaking the kiss completely and you whine at the sudden loss of contact, making him laugh. The hand on your hip sneakily slides itself into your back pocket, giving your bum a playful squeeze, before letting it rest there lazily, simply because he can't help himself. "You're trouble, Y/N." He mumbles against your lips.
Your eyes open at that, finding his and your hand caresses the back of his neck while you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and his jeans start to feel constricting at the thought of you doing that so you can taste him again, now that he's no longer kissing you. "I'm trouble?" You ask in disbelief.
"You kissed me." He states in an accusatory tone as if he wouldn't have done it himself anyway.
"I know." You whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips again. "I wanted to." You mumble and your tone makes his brain overflow with thoughts that revolve around you and his bed, because it doesn't matter that it's Monday afternoon and you're walking around the park. In Haechan’s head, nothing matters in this moment other than the fact that he desperately wants you in ways he hasn’t wanted anyone before and that scares him. Not because he doesn’t want to. But simply because he does. Haechan wants to want you.
_
"And with five minutes to spare." Haechan says with a proud smile when you reach the entrance of the building your class is in, still hand in hand and you can't help but smile back.
“You know you're definitely gonna be late, right?” You say in a scolding tone and he scoffs rolling his eyes.
“And whose fault is that?” He says playfully, pulling you closer.
“You should've said you were meeting Jaemin at three, how am I supposed to- mmmf.” He interrupts you with a kiss against your lips, cupping your face in his hands. He pulls away quicker than you'd prefer but you still can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.
"I know I’ll see you on Thursday, but can I take you out Friday night?" He asks, eyes wide and hopeful and you smile.
"You can." You say with a dreamy tone, taking in his pretty brown eyes and the way his smile widens when you accept to go on a second date with him.
"Good." He kisses you chastely again and rubs his nose against yours before dropping a wet smooch on your cheek, laughing at your reaction.
"Yah!" You complain cringing at the wet sensation against your skin. "Ewww, you slobbered on meeee." You whine, wiping the wetness off your face with the back of your hand, your nose scrunching in fake disgust but your heart flutters at the sound of his laugh. "Fucking weirdo." You huff, torn between laughter and exasperation.
"Be a good girl and get to class." He turns you around, putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you towards the entrance of the building, arms hugging you from behind and the butterflies in your stomach go ballistic. "Also, sit with me on Thursday." He whispers in your ear and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. You turn your head sideways to look at his face and you can't stop your lips from curling into a grin.
"Be a good boy and don't tell me what to do." You whisper against his jaw, where you press a quick kiss that surprises him, his arms loosening around your shoulders in shock and you take the opportunity to turn around and loosely wrap your arms around his waist. You raise on your tippy toes so you can bring your lips to his ear. “I’ll see you soon, Lee Haechan.” You say with a low tone and to anyone else it might seem like you're just hugging, but you can feel his chest moving shallowly against your own when you give him another gentle kiss, on the cheek this time.
"What the f-" You walk away with a sweet smile, before he can react or finish his sentence and you couldn't be more satisfied with yourself. You know he's still standing there, looking at you while you walk away from him and you smile to yourself.
When you take your usual seat next to Chenle, in the back of the big lecture hall, he looks at you with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. "So? How was it?" He asks and a giggle escapes him when you sigh with a dreamy smile on your face. "That good?"
“You have no idea.” You feel you phone buzz in your pocket and you already have an idea what to expect.
15:01 Hae☀️: that was fucked up...
15:01 Hae☀️️: you're in for a treat next time i see you
_
Thursday rolls around slower than normal this week and you know why it feels that way. You can’t wait to see him.
It’s the first time you’re running late to class though, and you’re cursing yourself for deciding to take a nap earlier. The bus that would have gotten you there on time is long gone, so your only option was to walk and be ten minutes late. You know it’s not the end of the world, students run late all the time, and it’s not like you’re anal about punctuality. It’s just that you hate being the centre of attention.
And when you walk in the lecture hall, everything pans out exactly how you had predicted; some people turn their heads to look when you enter the hall as quietly as possible and some couldn’t care less. When you skip past your usual row of seats though, taking a seat two rows ahead instead, next to the handsome boy who’s been lately occupying your thoughts nonstop, more people’s eyes drift to your direction and you’re thankful to your professor, who continues speaking, without batting an eyelid at your tardiness.
“You okay? I texted you.” Haechan leans into whisper in your ear, voice as quiet as possible. An arm extends behind you, resting on the back of your seat casually and you feel the warmth radiating on your shoulder blades, through the material of your top.
You look at him for a moment before starting to take out your notes and iPad. “I know, I took a nap and overslept.” You whisper back maintaining the decibels of your voice as low as possible and you can tell he’s holding back a laugh.
You look past him and you see Jaemin and Jeno both looking at you and waving. You mouth ‘hi’ to both of them offering a smile and your eyes land on Haechan again who’s smiling at you like he’s up to something. He relaxes in his seat, comfortably sinking into it while spreading his legs, his knee now touching yours and you know what he’s trying to do.
You also lean back and relax in your seat, pretending to finally pay attention to whatever example is being demonstrated on the board. Your knee playfully nudges his.
“Stop manspreading.” Your eyes still on the board but your attention on him.
“I’d say sorry, but it was intentional.” He states and you hold in your exasperation as well as your laugh. Your amused expression falters when he reaches to take your hand in his and rests them on his thigh. He’s too casual for your liking and too soft for your poor heart.
When he said that you’re in for a treat he really did mean it.
He walks you home that day.
-
“What the actual fuck?” Your voice is high-pitched; eyes so wide, they resemble a cartoon’s.
“What?” He laughs at your comical expression and places the mic down on the table in the centre of the noraebang room.
“You made me go first so you could embarrass me!” You loudly accuse with your finger pointing at him.
“You weren’t bad!” He can’t help the laughter that won’t stop. You’re frowning still and you look so adorable and believably annoyed. He knows it’s all pretend though.
“You were so good though.” Your frown slowly turns into a pout. “And it was all in Japanese.” Your wide eyes looking up at him from when you’re still sat cross legged on the leather sofa seat. He feels weak. You make him feel weak.
“I took singing lessons when I was younger.” He explains with a smile. “And that’s my favourite song so I’ve had practice.” He approaches slowly and takes a seat next to you, huffing and spreading his legs slightly to get comfortable while his head rests on the back of the sofa. He’s the one looking up at you now. You look so pretty in the purple and blue hues that light up the room. He definitely made the right choice bringing you here after dinner. He wanted to keep your second date PG but the way you’re looking at him right now makes him contemplate.
“Ah right. He’s an artist.” A teasing smile takes over your face as you hold his gaze. He groans and you giggle when his hands come up to cover his face in embarrassment. He feels you shift next to him and when he looks at you through the gaps of his fingers you’ve turned your body towards him, still crossing your legs. “You have a pretty voice, Lee Haechan.”
He knows he’s blushing, but he snorts, trying to feign nonchalance. “Thanks.” his hands drop and rest on his thighs.
“Did you bring me here to show off then?” Your tone still ever so teasing.
“No, but I was hoping to impress you maybe.” He admits without realising. Your effect on him frustrates him.
“By serenading me in a language I can’t understand?” Your smile is so sweet, tooth ache inducing. So sweet it’s contagious. You move a little closer and he can smell your sweet perfume. His eyes drop to your exposed neck and then to the collarbones he’s dying to press soft kisses on. “Consider me impressed.” You say and his eyes come back up to your face. You seem to be fighting your smile now and he’s obsessed with the fact that you don’t want to give away how affected you also are by him.
“What’s your favourite song?” He asks in a low voice, sitting up a bit and extending an arm along the back of the sofa. Your eyes instantly drop there, and your hand comes up to trace a vein absentmindedly. He manages to contain the shiver that creeps up on him, but he can’t control the goosebumps raising on his skin.
“Japanese Denim by Daniel Caesar.” You respond, copying his low tone. Your eyes not leaving your fingers gingerly trailing up and down his skin. “You know it?” you look at him in question.
Haechan is thankful he does. “Myyy blueee jeaaansss.” He sings the start of the chorus playfully and you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly.
“Okay r&b king.” You joke with a laugh. He pokes your side and you flinch with a half whine half giggle. He can’t help but smile at the sound.
“I just think his lyrics are like poetry, you know?” You shrug, explaining why you see the appeal. Your hand is now resting in his arm, no longer tracing and he enjoys the weight of it. The warmth. He wants to reach out and touch you too, but he doesn’t move. The moment feels too precious to ruin.
“They really are.” He agrees with a small nod. He likes to think that maybe he’ll be able to write lyrics like those one day, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to talk about himself now. He’s too busy admiring you. “You’re so pretty.” He says softly and he doesn’t even register the words leaving his mouth until he gets the cutest reaction from you. You look away, smiling big and your hands come up to press against your cheeks, attempting to cover what he assumes is a blush. A soft chuckle escapes him and he reaches up with both hands to remove yours from your face. “Blush away, no need to hide.” He teases you. He finds that he’s good at it. He wonders if it’s because you generally get flustered so easily or if it’s just the effect he has on you. He hopes it’s the latter.
When your hands aren’t in the way, he taps a finger under your chin gently encouraging you to turn your head so he can look at you again. He then instinctively moves closer, craving to feel your warmth better and when your eyes find his again, his chest constricts. He sometimes doesn’t understand how it’s possible that he’s come to feel so attached to you in such a short amount of time, how he so easily gravitates towards you. But then you look at him and he understands. You speak and he understands. You laugh and he understands. You touch him and he understands. It almost feels foreign but never unwelcome. Never forced. And that scares him.
Haechan trails his fingers from your chin down to your collarbone, tracing softly and he slowly moves the fallen strands of hair behind your shoulder. He feels your gasp when he leans forward to leave a kiss on the curve of it. Then a little lower. And a little lower until his nose nuzzles against the dip of your collarbone. Another kiss. And another. This time his tongue makes contact first, tasting the skin, before his lips pucker on the sensitive surface again. Your breathing has turned shallow and he smiles at the sight of your chest moving up and down. Your fingers thread into his hair, slightly pulling and he sighs against your wet skin. You catch him off guard when your other hand pushes him by the shoulder and he’s about to apologise for crossing a line but then you quickly straddle him and his mind goes blank. This is definitely not PG.
“Someone could see us, you know.” You whisper against his lips and he almost moans. The hand in his hair pulls again and his head drops against the back of the seat pliantly, eyes closing at the feeling of your lips on his jawline. You scatter small kisses until you reach his ear and lightly bite on his lobe, his breathing quickens and the moan he’s been holding in eventually escapes at your next words. “Bet that turns you on though.” His hands instantly come up to hold onto something, anything. One grabs onto your waist, the other lands on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt. “Talk to me.” You whisper sweetly in his ear before starting to trail kisses down the column of neck. The further down you travel, the wetter they get and he feels himself getting hard, his hips slightly raising to get some friction, but you don’t budge. “Behave.” You laugh against his neck in a hot puff of air and his voice comes out in a soft whine.
“Baby,” he breathes out weakly and you coo softly against his neck while gingerly sucking on the delicate flesh. He feels you place a hand on his chest, above where his heart is beating uncontrollably and he knows you can feel it too, your thumb stroking soothingly to comfort him. “Wanna kiss you.” He pleads pathetically and he feels like he might come in his pants when you suddenly grind your hips down. His breath catches in his throat and he trails a hand up your back, between your shoulder blades, to wrap around the base of your neck, pressing you down as he thrusts up into you. He smiles stupidly when you bring up your face, unburying from his neck, to look at him with wide eyes. He thinks you might scold him but instead you just wrap a hand around his neck, pressing your fingers against his pulse points in a possessive manner and he groans. His eyes shut at the dizzying sensation and when he feels your lips press on his, he relishes. His head tilts automatically to deepen the kiss and he sighs into your mouth when your tongue finds its way in. It’s intoxicating and he swears he feels high. Your hand around his neck definitely playing a part but it’s mostly your taste and the way you kiss him exactly how he likes to be kissed. Wet and filthy but still slow, sucking on his tongue to tease him. He feels his heartbeat going wild without permission when you grind down again, just the right way, the perfect amount of pressure to drive him insane.
His hands trail down to messily bunch up the fabric of your corduroy skirt so he can squeeze the flesh of your ass in his palms, fingers digging into the skin. He’s not gentle with you this time but your moans against his lips encourage him not to hold back.
You’re now grinding down with determined force and he moans into your mouth when his fully hard dick slots between your pussy lips, the only thing separating you, his layers and your underwear. He matches your pace, hips coming up when yours drop down and he realises that you’re no longer teasing him. “Think you can cum like this?” You ask against his lips, the scratch in your voice driving him insane, breathing ragged, hips quickening their eager ministrations. He nods, staring into your eyes. “You want to?” You ask again, keeping your eyes on his as your arms wrap around his shoulders to gain more support and he responds with another nod and a shaky breath. His head dips forward, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected and his hand pushes your skirt up even further, to get a better look. He groans at the sight. Your panties almost trapped between your folds, your pussy leaving a trail of wetness on the front of his jeans whenever you drag your body back and he feels himself twitch in his pants. It’s sinful. It’s perfect. You're perfect.
“Fuck, hang on.” He whispers suddenly, arm wrapping around your middle to halt your movements and he quickly unbuttons his jeans with one hand. His hips raise a little bit as he clumsily pushes the fabric down, leaving his boxers still on. “Okay.” He exhales and his hands find your hips again, guiding you to resume your work. The friction so much better now that he can properly feel your wetness seeping through the cotton and he loves that he can see the way his fat cock drags between your lace clad pussy lips.
Your whining doesn’t go unnoticed, and he looks up at your face only to find you also looking down dazedly. He relishes in the idea that you can get as dirty as he can and he takes in the sight of you now; lips parted, gasping audibly, your nipples hard and visible through your thin blouse and he’s suspecting that you’ve foregone wearing a bra.
His hands drag upwards, leaving your hips, trusting you to keep grinding down with no guidance and when he squeezes the flesh of your breasts through the fabric, his suspicions are confirmed. You moan when his thumbs rub on your already sensitive nipples, leaning into his touch and he repeats the action, enjoying the desperate little sounds you let out.
“I’m close.” He announces in a gasp, his balls feel heavy and he knows he’s leaking precum, adding to the wet patch you’ve created on the front of his boxers.
“Yeah?” Your eyes search his, hands cupping his face and kissing him again, soft this time. “You gonna cum for me, pretty boy?” He feels his eyes roll back at your words and all he can do is nod again. He anchors himself by squeezing your ass in his hands again and he loves the whimpers you let out when his hands get a little rougher, making the flesh ripple. He decides to take matters into his own hands when he feels your thighs shaking around his hips, suspecting the soreness in your muscles and his hold on you gives you no option but to quicken the pace
“Fuck, you feel so fuckin good, baby, please don’t stop.” He exasperatedly begs, his breath shaky and he feels like he’s losing it. Pathetic.
“Yes, god, m’cumming.” His voice comes out ruined, words muffled against your lips, vision blurring and his jaw drops when he reaches his peak, soaking his boxers like a teenage boy. Your hands slide into his hair when he starts shaking and he basks in the comforting touch. His head drops back on the seat again and he feels dizzy, your hips are still moving, dragging out his high and when it gets too much, he gently taps his fingers on your ass cheek, smiling dumbly. “Mmh, just give me a second.” He sighs as you take a seat, directly on his cock, softly cooing at him and kissing his cheek as you push his fringe back, revealing his damp forehead and he purrs at the gentleness.
“Good?” You ask sweetly and he almost scoffs, because there’s no way you don’t know you’ve just ruined him when he’s pathetically drenched his underwear like a horny teenage boy.
“Intense.” He hums and he feels himself shiver when you let out a breathy laugh against his skin, nuzzling into his temple. He slowly turns his head and catches your lips in a slow kiss. “Wanna make you feel good too.” He murmurs in the kiss and when he notices the conflicted expression on your face, he doubles down. “I’ll be quick.”
“Confident?” You tease with a smile that he can’t help but return. Your teeth sink on your bottom lip when he cups your pussy and he moans at the feeling of soaked lace.
“Not like I haven’t done it before.” He teases back and he laughs when you swat at his chest. “Please?” He tries again, tone needy this time and he uses his puppy eyes, smiling when he breaks through your resolve. The second you nod, he wraps an arm around you securely and his other hand grabs at the fleshy bit where your ass meets your thigh. “Lie down for me.” He whispers and helps maneuver you onto your back swiftly.
He can’t help but smirk when your legs instinctively part for him to slot in between, and he does exactly that, coming to position himself above you, supporting his weight on one arm by the side of your head. His lips find yours again, in a hungry kiss and this time it’s his tongue that dominates yours, sliding into your mouth, tasting you just like you did to him earlier. He loves the sigh you let out through your nose when his hand slips into your underwear slowly, sliding his middle finger between your folds but what he loves the most is how wet you are.
“Can I use my mouth?” He questions mid kiss and you must like the sound of that, because he feels you grind against his palm.
“You can do anything you want, just no sex.” You say shyly. “Not here.”
“Told you, baby,” He gives your lips another peck before kissing down your neck, giving your tit a tentative squeeze as he moves downwards. “Wanna do that in my bed first.” Your moan at the promise brings a smile to his face as his hands slip into the top of your panties and drag them down your legs hastily, feeling the goosebumps on your skin. He stuffs the flimsy material into his back pocket, earning a questioning look from you and he grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll get them back.” He starts kissing from the inside of your knee to your inner thigh, wet and full of tongue.
“Stop teasing.” You whine, raising your hips impatiently when he reaches closer to where you want him. And he chuckles against your folds, watching as your legs spread even more for him.
His head rests on your inner thigh, comfortably and he looks up at your face, gauging your reaction. “What do you say?”
“Please.” You whisper and he feels his dick harden again at your submissive tone.
“Good girl.” He mutters and his hands slide up your inner thighs, thumbs pulling your pussy lips apart, revealing your cute swollen nub, all pretty and in need of attention. He can see you’re clenching around nothing, clear pearls of slick dripping from the tiny hole that he can’t wait to lap up.
You’re more than wet enough but Haechan doesn’t think twice before letting a fat glob of spit slowly drip from his mouth and he feels his dick twitch at the sight. You moan when you feel the extra wetness land on your cunt and he does it again, watching his spit drip down to your asshole, making a mess of you. Nothing but sensual. “Yeah? You like it messy?” He breathes out in admiration and he doesn’t even need an answer, he knows you do.
His hand comes up again, fingers spreading the mixed wetness through your folds. His middle and ring fingers create a v shape around your clit, isolating the nub between them and the tip of his tongue comes out to make contact, flicking gently up and down. You both moan in unison, your hands burying in his hair to keep him where you need him and he loves how ruined you already sound, how your legs part completely, how addictive you taste on his tongue. And he loves that he can’t get enough of you.
“Mmh, fuck.” You moan when his arm wraps around your thigh, bringing his hand to separate your folds from the top, palm pressing against your pubic bone, fingers delicately pulling the hood of your clit up, revealing more of the little nub. His flat tongue licks from your hole to your clit and he repeats the action when he feels your fingers pull at his hair harder. The pink muscle then settles back to delivering quick flicks on your nub, the direct contact making you squeal and he smiles at the adorable sound. “Yes, like that.” You encourage him, the praise making his chest swell with pride. His other hand joins and his middle finger teases your leaking entrance, circling before slowly sliding in until it’s fully buried inside, your soaked walls making the glide so easy, that he’s certain one digit won’t be enough.
When his jaw gets tired, he switches to sucking harshly on your clit, making you groan and he slowly starts to move his finger in and out, curling up slightly, following the curve of your pussy. He knows you want more, your hole dripping even more slick around his finger, so he slows down as he adds a second one. You sigh when you feel the extra stretch and he knows he’s got you where he wants you when you start clenching.
“Fuck, baby, you’re creaming.” He points out in disbelief when he sees the white substance coating his digits every time they pull out of you and you whine in embarrassment. “I swear to god, I’m gonna fuck you stupid one day.” He promises against your cunt and goes back to sucking, more determined this time. His fingers start pumping quicker into you, the squelching sounds nothing but melodic in his ears and your tight walls nothing but heaven around his fingers. Your whines get louder when his speed increases and he knows he’s hitting your sweet spot every time he thrusts in, the pads of his fingers dragging against your walls. “Right there, hm?” His pace quickens even more and he looks up when he feels your eyes on him. You’re on your elbows now, jaw agape, eyes on his lips, watching him ruin you and his tongue comes out to flick quickly from side to side, his head moving with it, making a spectacle without breaking eye contact.
“I’m gonna cum.” You warn in a whisper, burying a hand in his hair again and your elbows give out, allowing your body to drop back down. He hums against your cunt, letting you know he’s got you and he feels your legs trembling around his head. “Fuck, yes yes yes.” Your voice sounds broken, your walls are kneading his fingers and he has to put extra effort into sliding in and out due to the restricting tightness.
He doesn’t stop though, even when he knows you’re coming down from your high, he keeps pushing your boundaries. He wants more. “Haechan!” You squeal when he suckles on your clit again and he laughs darkly at the cute sound. Your hand tries to push him away, legs attempting to close around his head but he’s not quite done yet, his hold around your thigh tight enough to keep you open for him.
He pulls his fingers out slowly and you whine. “Sorry, pretty.” He whispers mockingly against your clit before dipping down to lick at your pulsing entrance, smiling at the mewl you let out. He licks from bottom to top again, gently flicking at your clit when he comes up and he knows it’s too much when your body convulses and you sound like you’re crying. You’re not pushing him away though, which gives him hope. He opts to circling instead of flicking, tongue relaxed now; languid and he feels your legs spread again. “Yeah? Want more gentle?” He coos as his eyes look up and he can see your perky tits moving up and down with your breathing. He trails a hand up your body, squeezing greedily around the flesh and he moans at the feeling of your stiff nipple against his palm.
“I’m too sensitive.” You sigh and bring a hand above his, squeezing around your own tit with him as you raise on your elbows again.
“You can give me one more, though, right?” His eyes staring into yours, hopeful.
“I think so.” You nod tiredly, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the overstimulation, breathing coming out harsh. “I’m still turned on.” You admit shyly, biting down on your bottom lip as you push his fringe away from his damp forehead.
“Such a good girl.” He says dreamily and his tongue gently circles your clit again, wet hand pressing against the back of your thigh to keep you spread out for him.
Only after you come again on his tongue, does he stop, moving to kiss on your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin there, leaving a wet patch behind along with a subtle mark. He leans over you again, taking in the sight under him. Your breathing slowing down as you look up at him, your hair fanned around you and your eyes blinking slowly. You look beautifully and utterly fucked out and so angelic. His heart swells when you reach up, pulling him close to you and he gives in right away, dropping down, resting his weight on you carefully. He kisses you slowly, pushing his tongue past your parted lips, moaning with you, knowing you can taste yourself.
“You’re hard again.” You whisper against his lips and he laughs, because of course he is.
“You are not making me cum in my pants again.” He scolds and kisses softly on your cheek as you snort a laugh, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him close.
“Okay, I won’t.” You say with a smile, leaning in to kiss him again. He lets you.
—
“Do you guys have any, like, weird fetishes?” Jaemin asks randomly, interrupting your conversation with Ningning and almost causing you to choke on a fry.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Haechan pipes up next to you, genuine concern laced in his tone, his hand stroking your back whilst you cough.
“Yeah, changing the subject from ‘I’m broke’, to that, is slightly worrying to say the least.” Ningning agrees but that doesn’t stop her from laughing. “Look, even Jeno is speechless.” She points at Jeno’s shocked expression and he snaps out of it, taking a sip from his coffee.
“I was just curious.” Jaemin shrugs as he explains. “I’ve been texting this girl and the other night it turned into sexting and she asked me if I’d be down to piss on her?”
“Oh wow,” Ningning is suddenly interested. “What did you say?” She asks and he eyes widen as she awaits his response. All eyes around the table are on Jaemin now and he’s clearly thrown off, struggling to find the right words.
“Wellllll-“
“Oh my god!” Renjun exclaims and covers his mouth with both hands. “Please tell me you didn’t actually do it.”
“No, of course not.” Jaemin defends himself quickly. “I haven’t even slept with her.” He steals a fry from your plate. “Yet.” He concludes with a smug smile.
“Okay, but, let’s say you do sleep with her and she asks you to piss on her.” Haechan interferes. “Would you?” He asks with an amused expression and Jaemin seems to be in deep thought.
“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it but I’m pretty sure I’d get stage fright.” Says casually and stuffs a few more fries in his mouth. “Also, I don’t think I can pee when I’m hard.”
”Yeah, I was thinking that.” Jeno says with narrowed eyes. “It’s also a bit weird if you don’t know them that well or if it’s just a one-time thing, no?” He looks around, asking everyone.
“Yeah, true.” Renjun agrees. “Not that I’ve done it before, but, surely you do those kinds of things with someone you’re in a relationship with or at least someone you’ve been seeing and agreed to experiment with.” He looks at Jaemin. “But then again, you’re a different kind of breed.” Everyone laughs at that.
“That I am my friend.” Jaemin laughs darkly and leans over to kiss Renjun on the cheek. The latter pushes him away by shoving a hand against his face with a disgusted expression and you snort at the scene.
“The question is, where did you even meet this girl?” You ask with a wiggle of your eyebrows, not because you care, but because you find it amusing when Jaemin gets flustered.
His eyes meet yours now and he seems taken aback before he puts on his cheeky grin again. “Oh, I have a better question, miss thing.” His voice laced with nothing but mischief and you’re now scared. “Would you let Haechan piss on you if he asked?” There it is.
“And I ask again.” Haechan saves you momentarily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is calm but there’s definitely an edge to it, a warning even. He doesn’t move from his position next to you. An arm lazily resting on the back of your chair, the warmth certainly comforting on your shoulders. You instinctively lean into him, resting a hand on his thigh and his knuckles rub against your arm soothingly. Your eyes meet Ningning’s who’s watching the whole interaction smiling and you try to contain your own smile.
“What? It’s a good question, no?” Jaemin says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.
“Jaemin, I don’t know about you, but I don’t really talk about golden showers at least until after the fifth date.” You say sarcastically and Jeno snorts trying to hold in a laugh. “And that’s besides the point. You asked if we have any fetishes so I think we should all share one.”
Jaemin smirks and points a finger at you playfully. “I knew you could match my freak.” He says, giggling like a schoolgirl and Haechan’s arm around your shoulders tightens, the act unnoticeable to everyone else but not to you. Your fingers resting on his thigh, tense slightly trying to get his attention as you turn to look at his face and you can’t help but notice the frown on his face while he’s looking at Jaemin. He’s jealous and it’s obvious and you can’t help the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your belly. When he looks down at you, his expression softens and you feel his arm relax around you. You give him a smile, which he instantly returns. You’re definitely bringing this up later.
“Take your freak elsewhere please.” Renjun says with sass, earning a few laughs around the table.
“Ugh fine, I’ll start.” Ningning says and all eyes snap towards her. “I’m not opposed to some toe sucking. There you go. Thank you. Let’s move on.” Your laugh is loud and you wish Chenle didn’t have basketball training so he could witness this shit show.
”Alright, I like sucking on toes.” Jeno confesses and you bury your face in your hand leaning into Haechan’s shoulder to conceal your laugh. You feel him chuckle in your hair as he wraps his arm around you properly and you love the heat radiating off him so much that you wish you could stay there for the rest of the day.
“Next!” Ningning says exasperatedly, sending Jeno daggers across the table. It wasn’t even his turn but you respect his efforts. Not a lot of men have managed to get Ningning this flustered before and it actually makes you wonder if any toe sucking took place that night they supposedly only cuddled. You make a mental note that this might also be worth bringing up earlier.
It’s Renjun’s turn and he seems to be in deep thought. “I honestly can’t think of anything, I think I’m pretty vanilla.”
“Surely there’s something, it doesn’t have to be hardcore.” Haechan butts in.
“I guess choking?” Renjun’s ears have turned red now and you almost feel bad, because out of everyone around this table, he’s the one that deserves to be embarrassed the least.
“Ooooh erotic asphyxiation!” Jaemin says feigning a seductive tone. “Okay, so, I may or may not like butt stuff.”
Everyone’s eyes widen at the confession.
“As in your butt or the other person’s?” Jeno asks curiously. Jaemin only responds by wiggling his eyebrows and Jeno gasps dramatically.
“As in you’ve had a finger up y-“
“Moving on!” Jaemin exclaims loudly, interruptinh Ningning. "Your turn, lover boy." He gestures at Haechan to continue as Jeno’s mouth is still open in shock.
“Hmm.’ Haechan ponders, his fingers tapping on your shoulder absentmindedly as he thinks. For some reason, even though it’s not your turn to answer, you feel exposed, as though all your friends are watching you both, trying to gauge your reaction at his response. You try to maintain as neutral an expression as possible and you hope he says something you might have already guessed by the times you’ve been intimidate with him. “Maybe the risk of getting caught.” He finally admits and you’re definitely not shocked.
“Speak for yourself, sicko.” Renjun defends. “Some of us like total privacy.”
“Aww you really are vanilla.” Ningning pouts cutely and Renjun scoffs.
“Y/N?” Renjun says to divert the attention from him and you fear your ears might be as red as his now. Everyone is watching you, including Haechan and you’re starting to regret suggesting this in the first place.
“Just say it, no one is going to judge.” Jeno encourages and you want to bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder again.
“Maybe Haechan should try and guess.” Renjun suggests and now you feel like you've underestimated him.
“Oh yes!” Jaemin quickly agrees excitedly, clapping his hands. “Okay, how about he whispers it to you and if he gets it right, he then has to say it out loud.”
“What if he gets it wrong?” You ask and Haechan scoffs next to you.
“He seems pretty confident.” Ningning says, pointing at Haechan’s face and when you look up at him, he’s got a cocky smile plastered on his stupidly pretty face.
“Alright, Haechanie, make us proud.” Jaemin says while holding a hand to his chest and Haechan rolls his eyes at his friend.
“Okay,” He leans closer, cupping his hand around your ear to conceal his mouth from the group. “Spitting.” He whispers so that only you can hear and you feel lightheaded for a moment. When he retracts, he gently moves your hair behind your ear and when your eyes find his, he smirks. He’s got you all figured out and he knows it. Bastard. “So?” He asks patiently.
“Correct.” You say in defeat and everyone cheers a little too loudly around the table.
“So, what is it?” Jaemin asks excitedly.
“Can I?” Haechan asks, eyes still on you, ignoring his friend and you appreciate that he prioritises your comfort. You nod with a smile, giving him permission to say it out loud.
“Spitting.” He says again, out loud this time for all your friends to hear.
“That’s quite vague, no?” Jeno says. “Who’s spitting and where?”
You turn in his direction, throwing daggers at him, because there’s no way he’s trying to be a brat. “Oh, would you perhaps like a demonstration? I’ll happily spit in your cute little boba tea right now.” Your sweet tone, insincere and Haechan bursts out laughing, head thrown back, pretty neck on display but you push that thought to the back of your mind.
“Relax woman!” Jeno says with his hands raised in surrender. “No saliva in my drink please.” He takes his drink from the table and covers the top with a hand protectively.
“You can spit in mine.” Jaemin offers with hopeful eyes, holding up his drink in your direction and you groan at his crassness.
“Dude, you’re sick.” Renjun says with a shake of his head, judging his friend.
“No, I’m just versatile.” Jaemin defends with a pout. “No one’s spat in my drink before.”
“That you know of.” Haechan says with a feigned smile, voice laced with mild irritation.
“Right, well, I hate to ruin the fun, but I have class in fifteen minutes.” Ningning gets up, grabbing her bag and drink. “Bye losers.” She says with a sweet smile and starts walking towards the exit of the cafeteria.
“Wait!” Jeno’s voice is loud. “I’ll walk with you.” He gets up quickly, clumsily gathering his stuff before following after her like a puppy following his owner, without even looking back at the rest of you. You look at them walk away, already discussing something. You think they look cute together and you wonder what you and Haechan look like to other people.
“Someone’s toes are definitely getting sucked later.” Jaemin says and you can’t help but laugh at his silly joke.
Haechan turns to you with a sweet smile. “Are you done with classes for the day?” He asks quietly, leaning his body closer to you and you smile at how comfortable he already acts around you, not caring that his friends are still there.
“Mm-hmm.” You confirm with a nod, sitting up to stretch your limbs and once the stiffness is somewhat relieved, you sink back into your chair, leaning into his warmth as he wraps his arm around your shoulders again, like it belongs there. “You working this evening?”
“Nah, I only need to go in on Sunday this weekend.” He says happily as his other hand takes hold of yours, resting limply on his lap. “Wanna come over for dinner?” He asks carefully and your eyes fall on Jaemin and Renjun who are deep in conversation about what jobs Jaemin could look for to earn some extra cash. They’re paying no attention to you and Haechan.
“Dinner?” You ask with a hopeful smile and turn your head to look up at him, his pretty boba eyes already on you and he nods.
“Yeah, I could make us something, or we could get takeout.” His cheeks are now pink and you feel giddy at his flustered look. He looks so unbelievably cute and you get the urge to give him kiss, but you don’t. Not here.
“Sure, I’d like that, but-” Then you look at the two boys sat across the table again, posing a silent question.
“They’re all out tonight, don’t worry.” He reassures you quietly, reading your mind.
It’s not that you don’t like being around Haechan’s friends, they’re all lovely and have been nothing but nice to you, but you would appreciate some one-on-one time with him. It’s been exactly a week since your second date and even though you’ve seen him around campus since then, it’s always been with his or your friends around. On the other hand, you’re now realising that neither of you have been over at each other’s places and you feel the nerves as well as the excitement brewing in your stomach.
You’re aware that both you and Haechan are still navigating the nature of your relationship and even though you know that it’s too soon to tell where it’s going, you’re more than happy to see it through with him.
You’re also aware that so far, you’ve both made very clear that when you’re left alone, it’s almost impossible to keep your hands off each other. And although, the last thing you want is to keep things between you at a superficial level, you can’t help but wonder what sex with him would feel like. And although, you want things to progress naturally, you have a feeling that if you go over for dinner, you might find out.
“You sure you don’t wanna go out with them?” You ask, checking that he’s not cancelling any important plans for you.
“I can’t think of anything worse than going to a frat house filled with a bunch of people I barely know, trust me.” He says with a laugh, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. “Plus, I feel like I haven’t properly seen you this week.”
“Missed me?” You tease him, laughing at his reaction. His eyes roll and he tongues his cheek, trying to conceal his smile.
“Yeah, and what if I did?” He challenges, his eyes widening, his lips forming a cute pout.
“If you did,” You trail, leaning closer as you lower your voice, squeezing his hand in yours. “Then that’s great. Because the feeling might be mutual.” You reach up with your free hand to pinch one round cheek and before he has time to react, you lean in, dropping a quick kiss on the other one. “I’d love to come over.” You say with a smile and poke the tiny dimple that’s appeared where you’ve just kissed him.
“Oh great, so you guys are fucking on our couch.” Jaemin ruins yet another moment and Haechan closes his eyes trying to compose himself. A thought pops into your head and you’re already internally laughing at your own joke.
”Now, why would we do that, when your bed is available tonight?” You say with a toothy grin and you’re sure Renjun’s loud laugh makes some heads turn, Haechan mimics his reaction, head thrown, hands clapping. “Do not test me Na Jaemin, I will break you.” You point a finger at him with a serious look.
“You two make a great match, it’s actually scary.” He says in what could be described as amazement or fear, gesturing between you and Haechan.
_
You wake up confused, looking around and seeing you’re not in the familiar space of your apartment and when you inhale deeply you realise you’re safe. Haechan’s familiar scent helps you relax again and when you move to stretch your legs, you feel a comforting weight on your back, stroking slowly. You nuzzle your face into Haechan’s neck, humming in delight as he pulls the fluffy blanket, which you assume he threw over your figures whilst you were asleep, up to your chin.
“Hey, pretty.” He whispers in your ear, not wanting to startle you, his hand now in your hair, gently scratching your scalp and you purr in delight. “We fell asleep.” His tone still low, voice a little groggy, laced with sleep still.
”Mmm, what time is it?” You mumble sleepily in his neck and he shuffles around, careful not to move you from where you’re lying comfortably on him, grabbing his phone from the coffee table near the couch you’re both currently cocooned in. Your blink your eyes slowly, thankful that the only thing producing light in the living room area, is the tv screen. Shin-chan still playing on the screen from earlier but the volume is lowered. You assume you must’ve fallen asleep mid cuddling, after dinner. You remember telling him about this crime documentary you watched with Ningning a few nights ago and how you couldn’t sleep after. You also remember him saying that you should’ve called him so he could take your mind off it, and you remember wondering if he really meant that or if he was just being nice.
“It’s almost nine.” He says quietly after unlocking his phone. “We slept for like two hours.” He yawns cutely while checking any missed notifications and you can see from the corner of your eye, he quickly replies to a message from Jeno. “Seems like Jen convinced Ningning to come out.” He announces with a snort and your ears perk at that, your head slightly raising to look at him in question and he shows you the selfie he’s received from a visibly drunk Jeno, who’s got an arm wrapped around your friend’s shoulders, who’s sticking her tongue out, also visibly drunk.
“Fuck's sake.” Your head drops on his shoulder again, groaning. “She’s gonna be hungover tomorrow.” You whine and Haechan lets out a laugh, holding you tightly against him, his arm wrapping around your middle. Your hand rests on his chest and you close your eyes, allowing the cosiness to engulf you.
“It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll look after her.” He places his phone back on the coffee table and wraps his other arm around you, squeezing you like a teddy bear, with a sigh. “Bet my left nut, he’s staying at yours again tonight.” He jokes and you snort at his choice of words.
“Why the left one specifically?”
“I’m right-handed so I thought I’d keep the right one.”
“I’m sure you’ll get to keep both anyway; he’s definitely going home with her.” You agree with his point and tap your hand lightly on his chest, while resting your chin on it to look up at his pretty face. His eyes are closed now and he looks so relaxed, you can’t help but wonder if he’s enjoying the cuddling session as much as you are, but you also don’t want to assume he wants you to stay over. “I can go home, if you wanna go to bed. It’s getting late.”
His eyes open the moment he seems to have registered your words and he looks down at you. “Or you could stay?” He suggests with hopeful eyes, gauging your reaction. “I have a spare toothbrush, and you can wear something of mine.” He can definitely tell you’re contemplating. “No pressure of course, I get if you wanna be in your own bed.” His fingers comb through your hair soothingly and you close your eyes momentarily.
"Hmm." You ponder with a smile, letting your hand trail up his chest, fingers absentmindedly stroking along his jaw, feeling the scratch of the light stubble adorning his chin and he tilts his head, leaning into the touch. “I'm sure I won't miss my bed that much.”
_
After you’ve both brushed your teeth and he’s given you a comfortable big t-shirt of his to change into, you’re ready for bed and when you walk into his room, he’s already turned the main light off and left the bedside lamp on.
He’s lying comfortably under the white covers, back against the headboard while he’s lazily scrolling through his phone. You feel giddy at how soft and warm he looks. Just like a teddy bear you wouldn’t be able to sleep without.
You place your clothes on his desk chair and walk over to the side he’s not occupying, noticing your own phone is placed on the bedside table next to him, plugged in and screen down. You smile at the thoughtful gesture and slowly lift the duvet to get under, instinctively shuffling closer to his side of the bed when he stretches his arm out for you and you place your head on his chest, resembling the position you were in earlier on the couch. His bedsheets are cold and you tangle a leg with his, wiggling your toes against his skin to warm them up, making him flinch and you giggle quietly. “Sorry.”
He places his phone down, next to yours and moves to get comfortable against the pillows while holding onto your shoulders, bringing you down with him. He maneuvers you so you’re both on your sides facing each other and his arm is still slotted under you, between your head and your shoulder, while yours lazily drapes over his waist. He cups your jaw, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin and when he kisses your forehead gingerly, your eyes close momentarily while your arm tightens around his middle, pulling yourself closer so your chest is touching his. It feels domestic and so comfortable, like you’ve shared a bed with him a million times before.
“You comfy?” He whispers and you nod, the tip of your nose rubbing against his in the process. You see the corners of his lips lifting into a smile that probably mirrors yours. “Are you sleepy?” He murmurs against your lips and you smirk, knowing he’s testing the waters now. His fingers are in your hair and his thigh is resting between your legs, so close to your aching centre that you’re worried he can feel you throbbing through your underwear.
“Not really.” You breathe against his lips, your hand on his back slipping under the hem of his t-shirt and you feel him shiver when you trail your fingers up, your nails lightly scratching, feeling the goosebumps on his warm skin. “You?” Your breath hitches when his thumb traces your bottom lip, dragging it down and your eyes travel to his heart shaped lips. You instantly wish they were on yours, but you want to let him go at his own pace.
“What do you think?” He asks rhetorically and you breathe out a laugh, biting down on your bottom lip when his thumb moves to stroke the apple of your cheek.
“I think,” you pause, lightly dragging your nails down his back, earning a whimper from him. “I’m not really thinking actually.” You confess as your hand travels to his front, fiddling with the strings of his shorts, your fingers catching the elastic band of his shorts and letting it snap against his lower abdomen, earning a gasp from him, which hits your eager lips.
“Dumb already?” He attempts to tease and the smile dies on his lips, jaw dropping when your hand dips into his slacks and past his underwear, to wrap firmly around him. His eyes close when your thumb rubs under the head and you relish in the fact that he’s almost fully hard. He feels velvet smooth against your palm, thick enough to make you think it will probably sting when he enters you for the first time, slightly curved upwards, length perfect for hitting that sweet spot in your walls. You feel yourself getting wet at the thought and your breathing stutters when his thigh makes contact with your pussy, your hips instantly pushing forward, chasing the stimulating feeling. “Mm fu-“
His lips are finally on yours, interrupting you and you moan against his mouth in relief, kissing him back like you were made for it. You can’t help but think of that night in the noraebang room; how these very lips completely and utterly ruined you for anyone else. How they devoured you like no one else has before and probably like no one ever will.
Without breaking the kiss, you push him gently and he rolls onto his back dragging you with him so you can straddle him. He buries his fingers into your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue gliding against yours and you moan at the taste of him; toothpaste and something uniquely him. Your hands take hold of his, dragging them down your figure and you stop to rest them on your ass, smiling in the kiss when he instantly kneads and pulls at the plush skin. You allow him to lick into your mouth one more time, before breaking the kiss to sit up and take in his dazed expression. Eyes hooded, lips wet and swollen and so irresistible, you feel helpless. Before he can complain, you drop your hands to the hem of the shirt that he let you borrow and slowly start dragging it up your skin, until it’s off you and on the floor.
“Fuck.” He exhales heavily, the second your tits are free and his hand comes up caressing from your hip up to your ribs until he reaches the underside of your boob and he gently cups, feeling the weight of it in his hand. “You’re fucking unreal.” He whispers and licks his lips before sitting up and wrapping his other arm securely around your waist.
His forehead rests against your chest for a moment, inhaling deeply, almost as if he needs a minute to compose himself while still squeezing your boob in his hand and you let him, threading your fingers through his hair to offer some comfort. His warm breath caresses your nipple and your shiver, the skin around the nub pebbling against his palm. You whine at the sensitivity, pulling at his hair to guide him closer to where you want him.
He gets the message and he kisses across your sternum, his tongue coming out to make contact with your skin before it circles around your areola slowly, teasing you. The pads of his fingers digging into the skin of your boob, squeezing as he sucks the nipple into his mouth and he moans when you whine. He starts flicking his tongue, driving you close to insanity and the wetness in your underwear feels almost unbearable now, but you have other priorities.
“Hae?” You call out into his hair as he’s still sucking and licking and he hums, indicating that he’s listening, as he scatters more kisses across your chest, moving to wrap his lips around your other nipple. “I wanna suck you off.” You say quickly, before allowing the shyness to infiltrate your brain and he instantly releases the nub, with a wet pop, so he can look up at your face with wide eyes. His mouth is ajar and his lips swollen and wet with his spit. He looks fucked out like this, hair messy and you love it, because you’re the sole reason. You cup his face and he absentmindedly squeezes both your tits in his hands, pushing them together, his eyes not leaving yours.
“Yeah, baby?” He leans up and kisses you softly. “Wanna make me feel good?” He mumbles seductively against your mouth, and you don’t even think before quickly nodding.
“Mm please.” You say in a whiny voice, playing along with him, as you pull at the fabric of his top and his hands move to pull at the collar, swiftly removing it. Your hands drag down his naked chest, pushing him to lie against the headboard, continuing their journey down his body, until they reach his shorts. You don’t waste any time, pulling his boxers along with them and he spreads his legs when he’s completely naked, for you to kneel in between them. His hand wraps around his hard cock, resting on his tummy and he whimpers at the needed friction while his eyes are on yours.
“Tongue out, keep your eyes on me.” He says softly and you clench around nothing, your panties a mess by now, you have to refrain from cringing at the feeling. You instantly obey, leaning closer and sticking your tongue out, millimetres away from where he wants it. He gently taps the head against the centre of your awaiting wet muscle and you moan, fighting to keep your eyes on his, the act feeling intensely intimate. “Suck, baby.” He says, his voice still gentle but more authoritative than before. You wrap your lips around the head and suck softly, tasting his precum and you can’t help but let your eyes close at the taste and weight of him in your mouth. You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around him and flicking at the underside, causing him to grunt. “Fuck, pretty girl, you’re so good to me, aren’t you.” He says, with a shaky voice in his state of vulnerability, and you moan at the praise as you slap his hand away, replacing it with your own, wrapping your smaller fingers around his thick length and he lets you. You start to move your hand up and down, pumping him at a quick pace while sucking around the tip again, tongue dipping gently in his slit and when his hips buck up, wanting you to take him deeper, you place a hand on his hip as a warning and he grunts. "Fuck baby, please."
You gather a good amount of saliva in your mouth and when you look up to make sure he's watching you, you let it drip down slowly, watching as it coats his cock and travels down to his balls. You smile when his eyes roll back and you lick from base to top teasingly, surprising him when you take him as deep as you can, with your hand wrapped tightly around the base.
You moan when he reaches the back of your throat, swallowing around him with purpose and you pull back up when you start to gag. Your hand follows your mouth as you slowly start to move your head up and down, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can and you know you're doing a good job when his hands curl in your hair, gathering the strands into a messy ponytail and his moans turn into whines. This time, when his hips start moving, you allow him to fuck up into you, having gotten used to the feeling of him in your throat.
You slacken your jaw, moving your hand from the base to his thigh, and he moans louder when you allow him to go deeper than before. You feel your eyes water and you know you're slobbering around him, making a complete mess as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, gathering at the base of his cock and balls. Your hand comes up to cup them, rolling gently and he abruptly pulls your mouth off him with a loud groan.
You look at the thick string of spit mixed with precum that’s connecting your lips to his tip, as you gasp for air and then your teary eyes travel up to meet his wild ones. He looks conflicted and his grip on your hair feels tight. "What's wrong?" You ask, your voice comes out hoarse and you feel like coughing to clear your throat, but you just swallow carefully.
He manages to laugh breathlessly at your confused expression, his breathing shallow and his lips bright pink from all the biting. "I was about to cum." He explains and grabs you by the arms to pull you up.
"Ain't that the point?" You say as you straddle him again and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, some of the drool smearing on your chin and you internally cringe at the wetness, but his eyes on your mouth tell you he thinks otherwise.
"Not if you want me to fuck you, no." Your heart jumps at his words and the look on your face must betray you, because he’s smirking. "Unless you don't." He teases, caressing your thighs as you place both hands on his naked chest, your pinky rubbing against his nipple and you giggle when he shudders.
"No, I do." You confess as you lean down to kiss him but he quickly sits up, meeting you halfway as he wraps his arms around you, maneuvering you onto your back swiftly and you feel yourself bounce on the mattress when he plops you down. He kneels between your legs and without warning, he starts pulling your panties off you. You eagerly raise your hips to help him, bringing your bent legs together, so the fabric doesn't stretch.
Once the lace is somewhere on the floor, you see his lips curling into a smile as he bites on the bottom one when you mindlessly spread your legs for him again, inviting him to settle between them. He moves closer, dragging his knees on the mattress as his hands take purchase on your hips.
"Scoot up a bit for me?" He asks sweetly and he helps you move up the bed, so your head rests comfortably on the fluffy pillows, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach causing havoc with no permission, your heart thudding like crazy as your eyes find his and fuck holding back now. You just want him to ruin you.
You pull at his silver chain, your other hand grabbing the back of his neck and he grunts the second your lips crash, all tongue and teeth with no coordination. You tilt your head to the side to get better access and the wet sound of kissing fills the room. Your clit is throbbing and you desperately need him to do something. Anything. "Please, I'm so wet." You whine against his lips and he moans at your neediness, grinding into your centre. His cock sliding between your folds, the head bumping into your neglected clit and your hips raise searching for more friction.
He leans back on his heels and hunches over you, one hand splayed on your tummy, the other wrapping around his dick as he taps the head against your clit and your legs spread completely, giving him full access as you squeeze around your own tits, needing to hold onto something. Your eyes roll back when he starts firmly rubbing the swollen nub, flicking from side to side and you feel like you're about to combust, your back arching off the bed as you moan loudly.
You open your eyes the second the friction comes to a halt, and the complaint dies in your mouth when you're met with the sinful sight of him coating two of his fingers in spit before they disappear between your legs and into your needy hole. "Shit, baby." He says in awe when they easily slide into you and your jaw drops at the fullness, your eyes threatening to shut from the pleasure, but you refuse to stop looking at him. His arm muscles are flexing when he starts fucking you open, instantly finding that sensitive spot that drives you insane, his other hand still, possessively pressing down on your lower abdomen to hold you in place, his hair matted on his damp forehead, his eyes focused on your dripping centre, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in concentration. He looks so hot, you could come just from looking at him and when his thumb comes into the equation, rubbing merciless circles around your clit, you feel yourself getting tighter.
“You gonna cum?” He asks in a whisper, his eyes meeting yours momentarily and you nod quickly, eyebrows creasing at the intense pressure in your belly.
"Uh-huh, don’t stop." You respond in a high pitched plea and his pace quickens, creating the filthiest squelching noises around his hand and your eyes close, half in ecstasy half in embarrassment. "Oh my god." Your fingers knead your tits harder when you're on the edge and a moan from him is what topples you over. "Fuck, I'm cumming." Your pussy feels like it's on fire as your walls spasm, your clit throbs like it's about to fall off and your legs can't stop shaking. His fingers are pistoning into you so hard and fast, that it feels like it slightly hurts but it feels so good at the same time. Too good. You sense that you're on the verge of peeing and your voice comes out in a broken squeal. "Shit, ah, stop stop stop!" Your hand grabs his wrist in a desperate state and he looks up at your face with widened eyes, like he's come out of a trance. He stops his ministrations but keeps his fingers buried inside you.
"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry." The hand on your stomach, moving to your ribs, caressing gently. "Did I hurt you? You- shit, I thought you were gonna squirt for a second so I kept going, I'm really sorry." His pupils are shaking as he explains quickly, taking in your sweaty, disheveled form and you feel so exposed that you make grabby hands at him, wanting him close. He instantly moves, supporting his weight on one arm, careful not to crash you and you sigh when you feel his chest flush against yours, warm and damp.
"It didn't hurt." You assure him, cupping his cheeks in your hands and he closes his eyes, sighing in relief. "I just felt like I was gonna pee." You confess bashfully and he chuckles, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as you run your fingers through his hair. "I've never squirted before, so I freaked out a bit." You explain quietly. "Plus, I don't wanna ruin your bed sheets before we even get to the sex part."
He snorts and raises his head to look at you again. "Pretty sure they're already ruined." He says giving you a kiss on the cheek and you move to playfully push him off you, but a gasp escapes you when you feel his fingers slightly move, reminding you they're still buried inside your sensitive walls. "Unclench a little, you're squeezing." He whispers and when he kisses you, you slowly relax your walls around his digits, allowing him to carefully pull out and you whine at the loss, making him smile in the kiss. His hand cups your sensitive core, making you mewl at the comforting warmth. "You sure you still wanna keep going? We don't have to if you're feeling sore."
"I'm fine." You wrap your legs around his waist, holding him close. “Want you.” You whisper, hands sliding up his chest, coming up to bury in his hair again, as you bring his lips down to yours, urging him to kiss you stupid. And he does.
It’s slow, steady, passionate and you feel like mush in his arms, numb to the core, your lips moving in sync with his, taking what he’s giving you. You inhale and exhale heavily through your nose, refusing to break the kiss and you moan when he obscenely shoves his tongue into your mouth, licking messily and the conversation from earlier enters your mind suddenly. “Mm- I want mmf-” He interrupts you with another messy kiss before pulling away, allowing you to speak.
“You want what?” He asks quietly, lips still grazing yours as he catches his breath. Your eyes are on his glistening mouth, and he must sense your hesitation, because he presses again, hand caressing up and down your thigh in encouragement. “Tell me, baby, I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Remember what we talked about earlier?” You try, too embarrassed to actually say the words.
“Earlier?” His eyebrows furrow in thought, not catching on straight away.
“At the café.” You whisper, your eyes drop to his mouth again, slightly hinting and when they find his again, you know he’s caught on.
“You- fuck.” He falters when your hips raise, the tip of his cock catching at your entrance momentarily before sliding between your folds. “You want me to spit in your mouth?” He asks carefully, after having somewhat collected himself, both arms coming up, trapping your head between them as he rests his weight on them. You nod, holding eye contact, hands traveling down his abdomen, fingers tracing his sides before trailing up his spine, bracing once having reached his shoulders, palms resting on the blades. “You fucking minx.” His hand cups your chin, fingers lightly squishing your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker as he leans in to press a chaste kiss on them.
His index taps against your cheek gently, as his hold on your face loosens. “Open up.” He instructs, his voice low, eyes darkening and you feel your cunt fluttering around nothing. “Tongue out.” His fingers lightly shake your face from side to side possessively and your brain stops functioning, tongue sticking out as if on demand and you whine when you watch him gather saliva in his mouth, cheeks hollowing a little, before slowly letting it dribble down your awaiting muscle. Your eyes rolls back when you feel it and your fingernails instinctively dig into his shoulders. “Swallow.” He instructs again, and you obey with a desperate moan, revelling in his dominant demeanour. His hand wraps around your throat, feeling the movement and he kisses you again, grunting against your lips, as you struggle to keep up with him, mouth widening to take his tongue in and you feel the wetness smearing on your chin messily.
You realise no one has ever kissed you like Haechan, and you wonder if he’s always kissing his sexual partners like this. Has anyone else experienced this level of intimacy with him before? You instantly feel the jealousy brewing at the thought of someone receiving this kind of affection; this kind of pleasure from him and you surprise yourself, never having felt this possessive over someone before. Something switches in you.
“Fuck me.” You breathlessly mumble, not recognising your own voice and he moans in your mouth as your hand reaches down, wrapping around his cock, smearing the shiny drops of precum adorning his tip. His hips thrust forward into your touch and you pump him steadily a couple more times, offering some sort of relief.
He pulls away slightly, to look at you. “Let me grab a condom.” He says quickly before grabbing your ankles, unwrapping them from his waist.
“Right, yes.” You nod dumbly, feeling a little silly for having lost all sensibility because of him.
You watch him as he reaches blindly in the bedside table drawer; his eyebrows furrowing in concentration and his face lights up the second he finds one. You watch him as he sits back on his heels, ripping the foil with his teeth. You watch him as he rolls the latex carefully onto his hard cock, teeth sinking in his bottom lip as he pumps himself a few times, ensuring the condom is on properly, chest moving as he breathes heavily. You watch him as he moves closer, coating two fingers in saliva, before bringing them down to your slit again, rubbing up and down slowly before dipping them in and quickly pumping into you to prep you, even if you really don’t need it. You let him though, because you want to keep watching him for a little longer.
He looks ethereal, skin glistening in a sheen layer of sweat, his shoulders wide, his chest and arm muscles lean, bicep flexing subtly as he expertly slides his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch you for him. He looks like the epitome of sex and you can’t even bring yourself to moan as his palm rubs against your sensitive clit, your jaw dropping with a quiet, trembling breath when he starts jabbing at your already abused g-spot and your hands release the sheets in favour of holding your legs open, when they threaten to close.
“Think I’m gonna cum again.” You mumble in awe, eyes staying on him still.
“You think?” He asks, voice laced with sarcasm, pace quickening, urging you to unravel around his fingers for the second time tonight. “Go on, baby.” His free hand, presses against the back of your thigh, pushing your leg close to your chest, testing your flexibility and the second his eyes meet yours, you cum. Hard. “Yeah, good girl.” He praises softly and you let out a whine, allowing your eyes to finally shut, not being able to handle his intense stare, your back arching as your fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, legs uncontrollably shaking, walls clenching repeatedly around his hand, clit pulsing against the heel of his palm as he helps you ride out your orgasm.
He starts kissing up your trembling body, lips wet, tongue lapping up your sweaty skin and he doesn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath when he harshly sucks your nipple in his warm mouth as his fingers leave your heat to wrap around his hard cock, rubbing the head up and down your soaked cunt. Your hands come up to grab onto his hair, as you attempt to anchor yourself and you can’t help but moan loudly when he pushes in. And even though it’s only the tip, it’s enough to drive you close to insanity.
“Fuck!” You exclaim, forcing his head up so you can kiss him as he slowly bottoms out, distracting yourself from the stinging sensation.
You both moan when his pelvis meets yours, his pubic bone flush against your hypersensitive clit as he gives you a second to adjust. He slowly pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in, maintaining a slow, careful pace to make sure you’re feeling comfortable.
“Relax for me.” He exhales a shaky laugh against your lips and you squeeze even harder to tease him. “Fuck! Baby, what the f- don’t.” He warns with a grunt as he wraps an authoritative hand around your neck and draws his hips back a little, before slamming in with force, not a second later.
The loud noise that escapes your throat resembles a scream and your eyes roll back when he starts fucking into you hard and fast, wet slapping sounds echoing and you don’t even feel embarrassed at hearing how wet you are, the intense pleasure taking over your senses, completely clouding any coherent thought.
“Not so bratty now, are we?” He grunts against your jaw as the hand around your neck tightens slightly, causing your ears to start ringing and your eyes to water. He releases you just when you start feeling dizzy, allowing you to catch your breath. He lets out a dark laugh at your loud gasps and buries his hand in your hair instead, pulling at the roots, so your head lolls back on the pillows, giving him access to your neck.
“So fucking wet, fffuck, so good.” He slurs between sloppy kisses against your sensitive skin as his hips slow down, fucking you nice and deep at a lazy pace, torturing you. “You take me so well, baby.” His crude words causing you to clench around him as his tongue laps from the base of your neck, up to your ear, flicking the lobe playfully.
“Look.” He whispers, moist breath tickling your ear as the hand fisting you hair, forces your head forward and off the pillow, making you look down between your bodies and you obediently open you eyes. You take in the unholy visual of his cock slowly dragging out to the tip, coated in your shiny slick essence, a white ring forming at the base and your eyes threaten to roll back when he so easily slides back in, at the same torturous pace. “See how perfect you are?”
Your nails drag down his back, leaving scratch marks behind and he hums against your neck when they dig into the flesh of his ass. “Faster, please.” You breathe out and he loosens his hold, allowing your head to tip back down, his eyes finding yours as he maintains the slow pace.
"You sure, baby?" His tone mocking as he sits back up on his knees, looking down at your messy cunt practically sucking him back in every time he slowly pulls out. You reel at the sight of his feral expression, his eyes unfocused as they trail up and down your naked body, like he can’t decide what to focus on. You feel exposed to the core but your arousal wins and you moan loudly, back arching when his thumb slowly circles around your clit twice, stimulating the stiff nub.
"Hae, please." You're on the verge of tears and he must like the sound of your begging, because he doesn’t hesitate this time.
He leans down again, bringing his lips to yours, thrusts increasing in pace and force significantly but never losing preciseness, giving you exactly what you want. “Yeah, you want it hard? Fuckin take it.” He grunts, kisses turning sloppy, all tongue and teeth and you can’t stop moaning, mouth hanging open against his as he relentlessly slams his hips against yours.
“Yes, oh my god.” You exhale against his mouth, as he changes the angle slightly and starts fucking directly into your g-spot, barely pulling out before thrusting back in, his balls slapping against your ass and you’re pretty sure you’ve never been fucked this good before. “Fuck, Haechan, baby, please please please, don’t stop.” You blabber, completely lost in mind-numbing bliss, your legs spreading as far as they can go, allowing him to thrust as deep as he pleases.
“Fuck, Y/N, I need you to cum.” He whispers, tone laced with urgency, almost sounding like he’s in pain and he wastes no time; a hand slotting between your bodies, resuming the stimulation on your clit, as he supports his weight on one arm, thrusts unfaltering, unforgiving and just perfect. His fingers start rubbing rough, tight circles around the nub and your toes curl against his sides, arms securely wrapping around his shoulders, as your walls squeeze around him, indicating another orgasm approaching, and when his fingers along with the head of his cock rub against the right spot, you’re gone.
Your moan comes out broken, walls clamping down on him, legs pathetically attempting to close around him but failing as your thighs shake violently and you feel dizzy, a tear rolling down your temple from the intensity of your high.
He keeps fucking you into the mattress, thrusts turning a little sloppy now that you're squeezing around him, hips losing their steady rhythm and when the pleasure borders overstimulation, causing you to mewl, he abruptly pulls out, kneeling between your legs and over your spent body. He pulls the condom off quickly with trembling fingers and he moans as he starts jerking himself off, aiming for your abdomen as his free hand curls around your ribs, holding you exactly where he wants you.
“You look so good.” You exhale in awe as you observe him in the midst of his pleasure, his eyes shut, head thrown back, his pretty neck on display as he moans loudly and his hooded eyes find yours again for a second before they roll back into his head.
“Shit, gonna cum.” He shakily announces, your praise seeming to have worked wonders, as you feel the first spurts of hot liquid landing on your skin. You take in the beautiful sight of his shaking form, chest and neck flushed, drenched in sweat, eyebrows creasing in between, eyes still shut, jaw slack as he releases short breaths.
He’s milking himself when you look down and you can’t help but ogle at the sight of your skin covered in the sticky white mess he’s created, illuminated by the bedside lamp. You notice some of it has landed on your tits, some on your tummy and you’re pretty sure some of it is pooling in the dip of your belly button, causing you to bite back a smile.
“Fuck.” He breathes in relief as his eyes slowly open to look at you and he looks dazed, fucked out. His tan skin flushed, making him look delicious. Sweat drips down his temple, hands shaking as they rest on your thighs limply. “I think I blacked out for a second there.” He mutters in awe and you giggle at his crazy eyes, while he tries to regulate his breathing.
His cheeky smile has returned, and he leans in, taking a closer look at his work. “Damn, I did a number on you.” He teases, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sinful sight. “Pretty.” He whispers and takes your limp hand in his, lips kissing gently on the back of it, eyes looking up at you innocently, like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.
When he drops your hand, he leans down with no warning and you panic at his mischievous expression, as his head disappears between your legs.
“What are you doing?” You ask in confusion and he chuckles softly.
“Shhh.” He breathes against your folds as his hands hold your legs open and the second his tongue swipes against your heat, you squirm, trying to move further up the bed, but he tightens his arms around your thighs, holding you still. “Relax, just take it.” He whispers calmly before gently sucking on your clit. His tongue slides down to lap at your entrance, slightly dipping in, tasting you directly, before flattening and licking up to the bundle of nerves, making you mewl when he swirls around it languidly. He keeps going, alternating between sucking, licking and gently circling until your legs are shaking again. Your hands release the sheets, moving to desperately hold onto his hair, fingers pulling, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer and his moan vibrates against your clit, pushing you over the edge once more. You cry out pathetically, not able to form any words, cumming uncontrollably on his tongue as he refuses to let up until your whole body shakes from overstimulation.
“Please, I- I can’t- can't cum again.” You stumble over your words, as he licks against your entrance, slurping up your juices, the sounds incriminating and you don’t even have the energy to push him away anymore. You just accept that if he tries to make you come again, you’ll probably pass out. To your relief, he thankfully stops once he’s cleaned you up with his tongue.
You blink up at him when you feel his weight on you, his skin feels hot on yours, his cum smearing between you, and he doesn’t seem have a care in the world. The only thing he does seem to care about is shoving his tongue in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself, kissing you like he owns you and at this point, he might as well spell out his name on your body with his cum, because he has completely and utterly destroyed you and you know you’re irrevocably ruined for anyone else.
“So good for me, baby girl.” He mutters wetly, mouth open against yours, breathing heavy. “So fucking sweet.” He whispers almost inaudibly and you cup his chin in your hand, squishing his cheeks between your fingers, pecking him on his puckered lips.
“You’re fucking insane, Lee Haechan.” You weakly chuckle as he tries to kiss you again, his whine childish as your firm hold on his face prevents him from doing so. “Get off me, before I piss myself in your bed, you freak. You’re pressing against my bladder.”
_
After having gently cleaned you up with a warm hand towel and carried you to the bathroom so you can sort yourself out, he’s got you back in his bed, safely cocooned in his arms and under the covers. His front is comfortably pressed against your back and you’re basking in the warmth and the nakedness.
“Now I’m definitely sleepy.” You mumble with a content smile and he quietly chuckles in your hair, tightening his arms around you, holding you as close as possible, sighing in delight.
“Mm same.” He mumbles sleepily against your neck. “You comfortable like this?” He checks, and you feel giddy at his attentiveness.
“Mm-hmm, more than.” You nuzzle back into him, lazily stroking your fingers up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle, his palm casually cupping your boob; not squeezing, just gently holding. You feel him smile as he presses a sweet kiss on your shoulder.
A few moments of comfortable silence pass, and just when you think his breathing has started to slow down, he quietly speaks again.
“Y/N?” He asks tentatively and his serious tone worries you.
“Yeah?” You attempt to turn your head to look at him, but his tight embrace holds you in place and you presume he needs to not be looking at you when he says his next words.
“I think-” He pauses, collecting his thoughts and you have a feeling you know what he’s trying to get at, so you give him time, hand still gently stroking his arm. “Are we on the same page here?”
“Well,” You sigh, feigning uncertainty and the tensing in his arm almost makes you regret dragging this. “That depends Lee Haechan.” The teasing smile evident in your voice. “What page are you on?”
summary: in the midst of jeno trying to help you pass a statistics class, you become friends, and eventually, that friendship turns into something neither of you can define. you say he fucks around too much. he says you're not his type. and as far as you're both concerned, it's not that deep anyway.
pairing: fuckboy student!jeno x f!reader.
genre: university!au, fluff, crack, angst, friends(ish) to lovers, smut! mdni! woop woop
word count: ~25k
warnings: oh boy… jeno and oc are both warnings in this, emotional constipation, a lil toxicity but it's all love, jealousy, they fuck obvs, kissing, spitting, fingering, dry humping, oral (fem receiving), he eats it from the back, multiple orgasms, overstim, dirty talk, praise, possessiveness, light choking, lots of teasing, nipple play, his dicc is big bc…cmon, he's a hard dom but the tables do turn a couple times, rough sex, he alters her brain chem, sweet sex also, multiple positions, jen goes through it in one scene(you'll see), angst!!!!, same page!hae makes a few appearances (yes, that's a warning), alcohol consumption, there's a lot more tbh but im so tired rn
a/n: happy gooning!!! that’s it. that’s the tea. also pls send me love im a desperate whore. i'll get a girl boner for each note/ask. ALSO!!! im now officially an unemployed international postgrad student so pls support me on ko-fi (if you can), it would mean the world to little old me👉🏼👈🏼 i genuinely hope you love this fic. i almost went mental writing it - pls excuse any typos. thank u love u bai :’)
masterlist | ko-fi
Jeno isn’t supposed to be upstairs.
Jaemin’s party has already tipped into chaos — music too loud, bodies packed too close, laughter spilling into corners it doesn’t belong — and Jeno feels detached from all of it. He’s tried to lean into it, tried to drink past the restless feeling sitting heavy in his chest, but it hasn’t worked.
Someone mentions his room being occupied offhandedly, like it’s a joke. Jeno barely reacts at first. People drift in and out of rooms at parties all the time. It shouldn’t matter.
Still, his feet carry him upstairs.
The hallway is quieter, the noise dulling with every step, and when he stops in front of his bedroom door, something feels… off. There’s no grim moans bleeding through the walls. No laughter. Just a silence that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the house.
He hesitates, fingers curling around the handle before he pushes the door open, and his eyes land on you: lying back on the bed with your legs dangling over the edge, one arm resting across your stomach, hair falling loosely around your face. Even from the doorway, you look… different.
“Y/N?” His voice comes out tentative, cautious.
His suspicions of you being asleep disappear when your head quickly raises. Your wide eyes show surprise.
“Jen? Hi.” You sit up quickly, as though you’ve been caught red handed. “Is this your room?”
“Yeah.” He nods, taking in the perplexed expression on your face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His words come out rushed as he shuts the door behind him, giving you both privacy and all of a sudden, he feels like he’s intruding, even though you’re in his room.
“Yeah, sorry, just needed some privacy.” You shake your head. “I can go.” You rush to get up and he instantly feels guilt wash over him.
“No, no. You’re fine.” He cuts you off, his hand waving defensively and you settle back on his bed with a sigh. “Did something happen?” He asks carefully, somewhat worried now. He’s never seen you like this before. Not that he sees you much outside your tutoring sessions, but the times he does, you’re all chirpy and playful, always cracking jokes. He doesn’t know you well but it’s evident that you’re not your usual self.
“Um, not really.” You scoff, an exasperated laugh leaving you. “It’s silly, don’t worry about it.” Your eyes stay on your hands as you play with your rings and he realises he’s never noticed them before. Pretty, he thinks.
He moves to sit on the carpeted floor, leaning his head on the foot of the bed, next to where your legs are dangling off the edge. He’s now decided that this situation is a lot more interesting than the chaotic party Jaemin decided to throw downstairs. Half his friends are drunk off their faces, the other half busy getting there, while Haechan and his girlfriend have already disappeared to god knows where. And you? You seem somewhat sober and definitely in need of some company.
“What’s up, Y/N? You’re clearly upset.” He presses, not happy with your vague answer. Jeno is a nosy guy and he knows that about himself, but in this case, he’s also worried and for some reason, he can’t seem to be able to let this go.
“I’m not upset.” You defend, making clear that he’s touched a nerve. “I’m pissed off.” Oh? He can’t help but crane his neck sideways to look up at you. Your eyes meet for a split second and it’s clear as daylight now, you really are pissed off. But there’s something else behind your eyes, he can’t quite decipher. Embarrassment maybe?
“Shit.” He turns to look in front of him again, legs crossing to make himself comfortable. “Who’s the culprit?”
“Classic shitty ex with his shitty new girlfriend, you know the drill.” You explain, sounding like you hate yourself for even talking about this. Jeno gets it.
“Ah. I assume they’re here showing off their happiness?”
“You assume correct.” You confirm and Jeno can’t see you, but he imagines you nodding your head.
“Want me to beat the shit out of him?”
Your snort tells him that he’s succeeding at making you feel a tiny bit better and he can’t hold his smile back.
“You wouldn’t hurt a fly Lee Jeno.” He feels the mattress dipping behind him and when he looks back up he can’t see your face anymore. You’re lying down again.
“Hey, I work out.” He elbows your calf playfully, earning another tiny laugh from you.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I see you checking me out when I talk stats.” He jokes, expecting a snarky response.
“I’m just a heterosexual female, Jeno. I see muscles, I stare.” So, you do check him out?
“I mean, I was joking, but stare away if it makes you happy.” It’s your turn to make him laugh, kicking him in the ribs lightly. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and Jeno ignores the buzzing coming from his back pocket, probably Jaemin or Jisung looking for him. He’d rather be here right now though. Not because he enjoys your company, he just feels a sense of calmness he doesn’t want to ruin. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
“Feeling any better?” He breaks the silence a few moments later and for some reason, Jeno feels comfortable enough to lean his head against your leg, eyes closing to stop the room from spinning. He realises he must be slightly more intoxicated than he thought he was now that he’s sitting down and he smiles when you don’t retract, his temple resting on your soft calf.
“A little.” You nudge his head with your leg. “Thanks.” You say softly. “And sorry for spoiling your night.”
“You didn’t.” He reassures you quickly. If anything, you made it interesting, but he doesn’t admit that out loud.
“How come you’re up here?” You ask, as though you’ve had an epiphany and Jeno lets out a short laugh through his nose, eyes remaining closed.
“In my room?” He teases and he’s aware that he’s deflecting, but he hopes you don’t catch him.
“Ha-ha funny. You know what I mean.” It was worth a try, but there’s no deceiving you it seems.
“Just not in the right mood for a party.” He confesses, sounding almost defeated. And he feels it.
“Tired?” Jeno can tell you’re sat up now, you voice coming from directly above.
“Yeah, it appears trying to force knowledge in that pretty little head of yours takes it out of me.” His joke lands well, getting a laugh out of you but then you startle him with a flick of your fingers on the back of his head. “Oi!” He leans forward, hand cupping the spot you just attacked.
“Insult me again. I dare you.” Your provocative tone intrigues him in a way, even though the pain on his scalp.
“Damn woman.” He complains, the heel of his hand rubbing his head now. “Do that to your shitty ex and you’ve got yourself a gorgeous homerun.” He jokes and almost flinches when you lightly ruffle his hair in a comforting manner. Soft and tender. A complete opposite to your usual demeanour.
“Care to answer my question now?” You return to your previous subject, not letting it slide and he’s almost annoyed that you’re so observant.
He leans back again, resting his head on the mattress and he’s met with your face. From this upside-down angle, he notices the necklace that dangles off your neck as you lean forward to get a better look at him. It’s dainty, like your rings, and it sits prettily between your collarbones.
“Just felt a bit lonely, I guess.” He admits and he feels exposed. It’s been sitting with him all night. He hadn’t meant to say it, but now that he has, it feels strangely relieving. He can’t quite put his finger on the reason, but he thinks it has something to do with the way you look at him. No judgment in your eyes, just understanding. Could also be the fact that you’re upside down.
“As in, there’s no one to talk to or no girl to stick your dick in?” Your question takes him aback and if he weren’t looking at you, he might have thought you’re mocking him. Your perfectly serious expression tells him otherwise.
Jeno shrugs. “Both?” God, he sounds sad.
“There’s plenty of pretty girls downstairs, no?” You shuffle to the edge of the bed now, sliding down to join him on the floor, mirroring his way of sitting. Though your eyes are on the ceiling, his are stuck on your side profile, your neck and that stupid necklace. Have you always been this captivating or is he just drunk and horny? He’s always thought of you as a girl who happens to be a friend. Not his usual type. Or maybe that’s his way of coping with the fact that you’re actually too good for him.
“None I’d wanna stick my dick in.” The words leave his mouth before he can contemplate them and your eyes close as you breathe out a chuckle. “Plus, my room was already occupied anyway.” He teases, smiling at the way your kiss your teeth, feigning annoyance.
“My apologies, Mr. top shagger. I was experiencing a misery crisis.” You retort, lazily turning your head to stare at him. His laugh dies out a second after, but his smile lingers as his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before trailing back up to yours. There’s mischief written all over your face and for the first time in what feels like forever, Jeno feels flustered. It’s like you’ve got him all figured out and he knows that if you were to read his thoughts right now, you would most likely condemn him to eternal hell.
“What?” He asks, deflection getting the best of him again.
“Nothing.” You shake your head, diverting your gaze to your hands again. “You’re the one staring.” There’s a subtle tint of pink on your cheeks and now it’s Jeno’s turn to smirk. You’re shy. Because of him.
“That’s new.” His observation comes out in a hushed tone. Not intentional.
“What is?” Your eyebrows furrow in question and your eyes find his again.
“You’re blushing.” He points his chin at your face and to his surprise you don’t shy away. Instead, you maintain eye contact, one eyebrow raising daringly as you try not to smile, tongue poking into your cheek.
“And you’re flirting.” The slight tilt of your head gets his heart going a little faster. “That’s also new.” Your smirk returns and your eyes narrow, studying him.
“Is it though?” Whatever has taken over him, Jeno can’t explain it, but you’re reciprocating and he has no intention of stopping until you do. What are the odds of this going to shit anyway?
“When have you ever flirted with me?” A genuine question, nonetheless, not a valid one. Jeno’s flirted with you in the past. Subtly. But he has. Aways harmless. No ulterior motives. Until now.
“You know I have. You’ve just never flirted back.” He explains casually. It's the truth and your cheeky grin accompanied by your silence validates his argument. You might be terrible at stats, but you’re not oblivious. “Do you not want me to flirt with you?” He tests.
“I never said that.” You shrug, your nonchalance doing something to him he can’t quite describe. He feels it in his spine though, and it’s unnerving and hot at the same time.
“So, you want me to?” He doubles down, enjoying whatever turn the conversation has taken. Your hesitation intrigues him, gaze drifting down to his lips for a split second before returning to his eyes. Jeno knows the signs.
“Never said that either.”
“Oh, fuck off.” His hand has no business grabbing the back of your neck and your lips have no business being this soft against his, yet both of those things are happening before Jeno can process his actions and he can’t stop the low grunt that rumbles in his chest. You kiss him back like you expected it, like you were prepared for it and that eggs him on even more.
You shuffle closer, your hands finding home on the sides of his neck, holding him close, making his head spin as he struggles to stay sane. The low moan you let out against his lips allows him to lick into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours, gliding, flicking, tasting you eagerly. He really shouldn’t be doing this - fuck stats, fuck tutoring - but the thought doesn’t even register. Not when you look so good on his floor and taste even better on his tongue. He only knows that you’re here, close, and he wants more.
He tugs on your hair, blunt nails scratching lightly at your scalp and you obediently allow your head to loll back, giving him space to attack your neck with wet kisses, your perfume invading his senses, clouding his mind as he sucks on your pulse. He smirks when you whine, the sweet sound reaching his already half hard dick. He lets his other hand travel down your body and when he reaches the inside of your thigh, he squeezes the flesh, waiting for you to protest, to stop him or indicate in any kind of way that you don’t want him to keep going. Instead, you spread your bent legs expectantly.
No words are exchanged apart from a low ‘fuck’ he lets out when you hurriedly dip your hands under your short skirt, tugging at your panties and the second they’re on the floor, Jeno wastes no time. His fingers find your folds instantly, rubbing from your entrance to your clit and he grunts at the wet glide, so fucking wet, he thinks as he circles your bundle of nerves slowly at first, then more determined, wanting desperately to get you off. It’s like he’s possessed. He can’t think straight, the only thought dancing around his mind is seeing you fall apart on his floor.
You bring his lips to yours again, hands pulling at his hair as your tongue invades his mouth and your hips grind against his hand. He’s in a slightly uncomfortable position, butt still on the floor, body twisted at the waist as you’re splayed on his carpet, head resting on the edge of his mattress. Not that it matters anyway.
“Make me cum.” You moan in his mouth; demanding and breathy and he swallows it with a filthy kiss, moaning when he dips a finger in your needy hole. You’re so wet, making his mind go blank and he feels like he could give you anything you asked for at this point. He pulls out, trying two fingers this time, knowing you can take the stretch with how drenched you are.
“Pull your skirt up.” He instructs softly, lips dragging against yours.
You do exactly as he asks, revealing the unholy sight of his fingers slowly fucking into you. Your clit is engorged due to the arousal and he can’t shake the thought of his lips wrapping around it, sucking as hard as he pleases, flicking until you’re shaking. He settles for splitting you open with his fingers for now.
He curls the digits slightly, pressing them upwards as he starts drilling into you at a rough and quick pace. The quelching noises sound almost melodic to him. That’s what good pussy sounds like, he thinks and he relishes in the loud mewl you let out, knowing he’s hitting the right spot.
“There?” He breathes out against your temple, desperately needing to unbutton his jeans, the constricting feeling torturing him, but your nod keeps him going.
“Yeah.” You pant, your eyes on his hand, taking in the erotic image as your nails dig into his thigh through his godforsaken jeans, and he wishes he could feel your touch properly, without any barriers.
He makes sure the heel of his palm stimulates your clit each time he fucks into you and he praises the universe when your walls flutter around his fingers.
“Oh my- fuck!” You cry out as you head tips, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping in a silent moan and Jeno feels lightheaded at the newfound, sinful image of you climaxing. Your cunt clamps down on his hand, making it impossible for him to keep thrusting, so he buries his fingers all the way in your pulsating heat and starts harshly rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your thighs start quiverig, eventually closing and trapping his hand between them, preventing him from continuing.
Your expression resembles an angelic one as you take deep breaths, trying to resurface back to sanity. “Jesus.” You whisper, almost like a prayer and he lets out a short breathless laugh, nails scratching the back of your scalp to help you calm down as your body still trembles.
“You good?” He bends down a little, stealing a kiss off your shoulder. The reason unknown to him, but he doesn’t question it either.
“Mhm.” You nod lazily, turning your head to look at him and your fucked out eyes remind him of the big problem in his jeans. “I think we should fuck.” You blurt out unexpectedly and he feels his eyebrows raise in surprise. He thinks exactly the same, he just didn’t expect you to spell it out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But then again, you’ve always been the blunt type. A woman who knows what she wants. He’ll bite.
“Do you, now?” He purposely feigns surprise as he drags his fingers out of your now relaxed walls and doesn’t even warn you before hooking his arms underneath you; one around your middle, the other one under your bent knees. Your small yelp makes him smile and your arms coming to wrap around his neck in urgency tug at his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel dizzy.
He carries you for a few seconds as he walks around his bed, dropping you so your head lands on his pillows. You bounce a couple of times before sitting up, resting your weight on your palms.
“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” He asks, trying to maintain a serious tone but removing his t-shirt anyway.
“Just a tad.” You say absentmindedly, eyes shamelessly trailing down his naked torso, landing on his hands as they work his belt undone. Jeno is aware of his above average size, but your eyes slightly widening when he shoves both his jeans and boxers down, definitely do wonders to his ego.
He kneels on the bed, shuffling until he’s situated between your already parted legs. He taps on your chin with his index to get your attention. “You’re drooling. Arms up.” He bites his lip trying to conceal a smile as you sit up properly, extending your arms above your head. “Cute.” He mumbles before dipping down to take hold of the hem of your top, dragging it up and off you, revealing your pretty tits. The lack of bra causes his brain to short circuit for a second before discarding the top somewhere behind him and he doesn’t waste time, moving to unzip your skirt. He smirks at the way you adorably raise your bum to help him remove the last piece of clothing.
“How do you want it?” He asks, trying to sound unaffected, all the while aching to touch you all over, heart threatening to jump out of his chest. You bite your bottom lip in thought, contemplating your options.
“Can I be on top first?” You ask tentatively, neck craning so you can look up at him. You’re so pretty like this. Splayed on his sheets with nothing on but that necklace he can’t seem to get enough of. Jeno nods in understanding, gathering that you’re most likely worried he won’t fit in any other position and he’s more than happy to let you take him however you please.
He plops down next to you on the mattress, still sat up and you quickly follow, dragging your knees on his sheets so you can straddle him. His hands move instinctively, taking hold of your hips, pulling you closer as you slightly hesitate and the second your knees trap his hips between them and your arms wrap loosely around his neck, he allows his own to slither around your middle. Your tits brush against his chest and he has to hold back a groan at the soft sensation.
His eyes find that necklace again and this time he can’t refrain from voicing his thoughts. “That looks good on you.” His chin points at the piece of jewellery and you look down momentarily before realising what he’s referring to.
“Thanks. I like yours.” You pull at his plain silver chain with your fingers, bringing his face closer to yours. Your blush is back, making him feel giddy. What’s wrong with him? He can’t even blame it on the alcohol; he feels mostly sober now.
He trails a hand up your side, palming your breast momentarily before his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, palm coming to rest on the side of your neck, thumb tracing your jawline delicately.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask hesitantly, your lips almost touching.
“You can do anything you want.” He utters quietly and he sighs when you close the tiny gap, your lips moulding against his. You kiss him deep and slow - slower than he’s used to - lightly nipping at his bottom lip, a satisfied hum escaping his chest when your hands tip his head back a little, yours angling to the side so you can deepen the kiss. Your tongue obscenely glides against his, your taste invading his senses and the wet smacks of your lips turn him on even more. His cock twitches between your bodies and he moans when you push him by the shoulders, letting himself land on the pillows, dragging you with him.
“Fuck, how are you so hot?” You whine as you trail kisses down the side of his neck and he huffs out a laugh, the compliment reaching his ears as he feels them getting warmer.
“Have you seen yourself?” He breathes out weakly as you suck on a spot that has him reeling, his hand tangling in your hair to hold you there, giving you permission to mark him.
“Shut up.” You murmur against the sensitive spot, your tongue soothing the scratch of your teeth.
“Fuck you.” He retorts childishly, hands grabbing your ass, squeezing greedily, pushing you downwards as he grinds his hips up, length slipping between your puffy folds, your arousal coating him perfectly. “You’re so wet.” He moans against your shoulder as you keep sucking greedily, and Jeno is positive the spot on his neck will feel sore tomorrow.
You sit up abruptly, eyes finding his, looking enticing as ever, pupils blown out, lips wet and swollen. You shock him when you lewdly dribble in your palm before reaching down to engulf his painfully hard cock in the very same hand.
“Jesus.” He pants as you lather him in your spit and slick, the glide of your hand sensational. You shuffle slightly upwards, aligning him with your entrance and he helps you maintain your balance with his hands on your waist.
“Ah, fuck.” You whine when his tip breaches your snug hole and he feels like he’s losing his mind. There’s no way a pussy can be this wet and feel this good. Your contorted expression tells him you might not be enjoying this as much as he is though, which brings him back to reality.
“You okay?” He drops his hands to your ass cheeks, spreading them as far apart as they can go, hoping the action offers your pussy some relief.
“It stings a bit.” The cute scrunch of your nose makes his heart race, and he has to refrain from fully thrusting into your pulsating heat. “Keep your hands there.” You plead and he does, holding you open as you try to sink down a little further with a whimper of discomfort.
“Come here, kiss me for bit.” His words must affect you, the tightening of your walls suffocating him, but you follow through, arms wrapping securely around his neck as your lips find his again. He kisses you slow, matching your rhythm from before, tongues gliding languidly, still wet and messy, but mostly intimate. Too intimate. And he knows it’s working when your walls start relaxing around him, your cunt producing another gush of slick that drips down to his base.
He takes matters into his own hands, hips raising to thrust into you little by little in quick, short pumps and when your mouth drops open against his, he moans, finding pleasure in pleasuring you.
“Better?” He whispers, searching for any signs of discomfort as your eyebrows crease adorably.
“Uh-huh.” You nod quickly, nose bumping against his as you kiss him again, all tongue and teeth, and Jeno doesn’t stop fucking you. Even when he’s fully sheathed in, he keeps going, quickly but gently pumping into your slippery warmth, length barely pulling out before sliding back in. “Fuck, you’re s-so deep.” You whine dreamily and he loves that you’re not moving, hips still, trusting him, taking what he’s giving you from underneath as his hands stay on your ass, holding your cheeks apart just like you asked him to.
When you sit up a little, palms resting on his chest as you start meeting his thrusts, you let out a loud moan and Jeno assumes his cock is hitting exactly where it should be hitting. Your tits are bouncing beautifully, nipples hard from arousal and he wishes he had his mouth all over them, but doesn’t risk changing the angle of his hips, fucking you how you need him to. He doesn’t need your words, just your closed eyes, slack jaw and trembling breaths are enough for him to know you’re lost in pleasure.
“Jen- f-fuck me harder.” Music to his ears.
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Mhm yeah, right there, just harder.” You nod quickly, eyes pleading and how could he ever deny you anything.
“Fuck, baby.” He barely registers the pet name leaving his lips, but he knows it does something to you, pussy gripping him a little tighter than before and when his hips start smacking against yours, ass jiggling in his hands, you both moan loudly.
“Oh, fuck, y-yes, like that.” You cry out, back arching, head tipping backwards in ecstasy and Jeno can’t find it in him to stop staring at you. There’s sweat dripping between your bouncing breasts, and all he can think is how much he wants to lap it up, how much he wants to lather your nipples in his spit and feel the weight of your pretty tits in his palms.
“Rub your clit for me.” He requests in a frenzy, desperate to see you fall apart again. Your ring-clad fingers quickly find the swollen nub, drawing frantic circles around it and Jeno feels his balls tightening at the sight, cock throbbing as he nears his end. Your eyes find his for a split second before they roll back as you visibly start shaking, your hand quickly leaving your clit with a shriek as though the stimulation feels painful. “That’s it.”
He doubles down even through the kneading of your walls around him, thrusts becoming more brutal, balls slapping against your ass. He becomes desperate with the way your nails dig into his chest, his grip on your ass tightening, causing the flesh to ripple. He selfishly hopes his fingers leave bruises, reminding you tonight for days.
He swears the obscene slapping sounds that echo, along with your loud cries of desperation, surpass the best quality porn he’s ever watched. If he could only have a recording of the incoherent blabbering leaving your mouth now, he’d happily ditch all the porn sites and just listen to that whenever he’d want to bust a nut.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You cry out in panic, desperately trying to raise your hips, unable to handle what he’s giving you, but that just urges him to drive into you even harder, refusing to hold back now that he’s got your body spasming hard on his cock. “J-Jen- I c-can't, f-fu-”
He wraps a secure arm around your middle, quickly manoeuvring you on your back and before you can protest, he’s slipping right back inside your warmth, his lips silencing your cries. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he supports his weight on one arm, hooking your leg over his elbow, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. His hips resume their abuse, cock driving into your spent hole repeatedly as he seeks his own release. Your pussy is still quivering around him, forcing a guttural groan out of his chest.
“So fucking good.” He mumbles in utter bliss, your walls squeezing him just right and he accepts defeat, knowing that he can’t last much longer. “Can I cum inside?” He asks for permission, half conscious of the fact that he’s not wearing a condom. He feels helpless.
“Yeah.” Your hands squeeze his biceps in reassurance. “Fill me up, Jen.” You whisper and he swears it’s the most erotic thing a girl has ever said to him during sex. And he’s fucked many girls. None have uttered his name like you do though.
“Shit.” He’s panting uncontrollably, his sweat dripping on your skin, mixing with yours as your hands come to cradle his face in comfort, and he gets this strange feeling in his chest. You’re too tender. Too soft. And then you’re leaning up slightly, kissing him but it’s almost as if he’s forgotten how to use his lips, mouth hanging open against yours, releasing a deep grunt as his orgasm takes over him. His arm starts trembling, struggling to hold him up, blunt nails sinking into the flesh of your thigh as his hips stutter, pumping messily into your wet heat, hot spurts of his release painting your gummy walls, claiming you in the best way possible. He wonders if he’s entered heaven or some unknown dimension, convinced that the way your cunt is milking him is out of this world.
When his thrusts come to a halt, length burying inside you as he releases your leg, he hears the whimper you let out, feels it against his lips and that reminds him to kiss you again. And again. And again. Until you both can’t breathe. Until his lips feel sore. Until you’re desperately pulling at his hair. Until he’s had enough of you. If that’s even possible.
He slips out with a sharp inhale, making you mewl and you’re both looking down, taking in the sight of his now softening cock, all covered in both of your releases. He sits up a little, shamelessly staring at your pulsating hole while forcing your legs wide open. Some of his cum escapes, slowly dripping down to your ass and Jeno feels lightheaded at the sight of your pretty cunt; all puffy and swollen because of him.
“Stop staring you creep.” You complain, playfully kicking him in the ribs as his hold on your inner thighs loosens.
He observes you for a moment; taking in how beautifully ruined you look. Your chest flushed, sweat all over your skin, nipples still slightly erect, tits jiggling a tiny bit from your intense breathing. The blush creeps up to your neck and reaches your cheeks, lips so red and shiny one could think you have a dark shade of lip gloss on. He feels a wave of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that it’s all him; that it’s his spit covering your lips, that your skin is covered in the afterglow of the orgasms he just fucked out of you.
“Going shy on me again?” He teases with a raise of his eyebrows, hand playfully squeezing the flesh of your thigh, before he shuffles upwards, lying next to you on his front, arm lazily draping over your middle as he tries to regulate his breathing.
“What if I closely stared at your dick like I was examining it?” You joke, absentmindedly scratching up and down his arm. He allows his eyes to shut, the relaxing motions of your fingers causing drowsiness to take over him as he shuffles closer to you, seeking more of your warmth.
“Go ahead, I got a pretty good dick.” He mumbles sleepily against your upper arm. You whack him lightly but that still startles him in his woozy state.
“Can you bring me something to clean up with?” You cringe as you rub your thighs together in discomfort and he shoots up from the bed quickly, feeling bad for neglecting you. He so easily sunk into the comfort of your warmth and that scares him a little. This is just sex, right? Nothing too deep. Just sex between two people who were having a shitty night and decided to make it better. Just incredible, mind-blowing sex with the girl he tutors twice a week for extra credit. Right?
The act of aftercare is normally something he indulges in to subtly get rid of the other person. Never intimate, just transactional. In this case, kicking you out hasn’t even crossed his mind. He realises that he wouldn’t mind if you spent the entire night or at least just stayed a little longer. But surely that’s owed to the fact that he knows you in a way. You’re not just a random girl he met and decided to fuck and chuck. You’re friends. Right?
“Shit, yeah, one sec.” He slips out of bed and rushes to his ensuite bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks wrecked; sweat glistening on his skin, lips swollen, the hickey on his neck visible already, dick still shiny with slick and cum. He splashes some cold water on his face and neck, allowing the cooling feeling to wake him up before cleaning himself up.
When he re-enters the room, you’re on your side in foetal position, very clearly asleep and he can’t help the quiet chuckle that leaves him. He carefully rolls you onto your back again and you hum contentedly as he slowly drags the warm damp towel between your legs, cleaning your folds and inner thighs as gently as possible. He feels guilty when he shakes you lightly, waking you up, but he knows you’ll thank him tomorrow.
“You gotta pee first, then we can sleep.” He whispers, careful not to pull you out of your slumber completely.
“I um- I can go home,” You mumble, still half-asleep, clearly dreading the effort. Silly.
“How about just the bathroom, hm?” He scoops you up bridal style again, exactly like he did before, only now you’re completely naked and your head buries in his neck, nuzzling sleepily. “I’ll drive you home tomorrow.” He reassures you and smiles when he feels your arms tighten around his neck.
“You’re actually a sweet guy, aren’t you, Jen?” You mumble dazedly against his skin and he carefully sets you down on the toilet seat.
“Always the tone of surprise.” He teases as he combs your hair out of your face and behind your ears. “Do your thing. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He heads back into his room, picking up your clothes off the floor, folding them neatly on his chair before rifling through his drawers for a comfy t-shirt for you to wear. He hears the faint trickle from the bathroom and can’t help but laugh quietly. A small routine, small domesticity — nothing like him, yet it feels… right. He grabs his phone, sending Renjun three quick texts, hoping his friend is not too drunk to respond.
Jeno: can you bring me a glass of water pls
Jeno: in my room
Jeno: knock.
RJ: on it
RJ: you ok?
Jeno: yeh all good
“I’m done.” Your voice floats from the bathroom, followed by a flush as he puts a clean pair of boxers on before rushing to come get you.
“Hey, lazy bum.” He enters to find you perched exactly where he left you, elbows on your knees. “Did you wipe, or do you want me to do that for you too?” He teases and you whine sleepily, face buried in your hands.
“I did. I promise.”
“Good. Now arms up.” You comply without a question, and he carefully slips the t-shirt on you, warmth spreading in his chest when you sigh at the comfort of cotton, hugging your arms to yourself. You blink up at him, looking soft as ever as you make grabby hands, and his insides almost melt at the cuteness.
Why does he feel this sudden urge to coddle you? Sure, Jeno likes looking after his friends, making sure they’re happy and healthy, but this is different. In all his sexual encounters, he’s always maintained boundaries — never lent clothes, never ensured a girl didn’t get a UTI, never carried them around.
With you, he finds that he’s already broken most of those boundaries in one single night. And he doesn’t know why.
He carries you back to the bed, only this time you cling onto him like a koala bear, arms and legs wrapped around him in a tight hug. He puts you down gently, tucks you in with the duvet, smoothing it over you, making sure you’re comfortable. A knock on the door makes you blink in question.
“It’s just my housemate.” He reassures before getting up to crack the door open.
“Here you go, sir.” Renjun presents him with a pint of water and Jeno gratefully accepts it with a smile.
“Thanks.” He goes to shut the door again, but Renjun quickly stops him.
“Dude, what’s going on?” A worrisome expression on his face.
“Nothing. I’m just- I'm not alone.” Jeno points his thumb behind him, without really allowing Renjun to look inside his room.
“Oh.” Renjun almost looks surprised, an inquisitive look taking over his face which makes Jeno feel scrutinised. His friends know him well enough to know that he doesn’t just hide girls in his room.
“I’ll explain tomorrow.” He assures his friend, silently implying that he can’t elaborate right now. Thankfully Renjun catches on quick and turns to leave after giving him a thumbs up. Jeno doesn’t fail to give him a fond smile for respecting his privacy. It’s one of the things he loves the most about that boy; he doesn’t hover, unless he’s needed.
Jeno takes a couple of gulps before placing the glass of water on the nightstand next to you. Your eyes are closed again and when he quietly joins you under the covers, he feels you shift next to him. He checks if your eyes are still closed and when he confirms they are, he turns off the bedside lamp, allowing the darkness to engulf both of you.
He’s lying on his back; arm folded under his head as he contemplates the choices he’s made tonight. Your stable breathing calms him in a way, and he finds himself trying to match your rhythm. When your hand brushes against his arm, fingers curling around just above his elbow, he freezes slightly, savouring the small contact.
“Jen?” You whisper, as if checking he’s still there with you.
“Hm?”
“I don’t want things to be weird.” Fuck.
“They won’t be.” He turns toward you, voice soft, though the darkness obscures your features.
“How do you know that?” You’re still whispering and he doesn’t know why, since you’re the only two people in the room. He matches your tone anyway.
“I mean...” His words falter briefly as your grip tightens. “Things don’t have to be weird, right?” Your fingers loosen, but they remain there and Jeno has trouble breathing. It’s not that deep, he thinks to himself.
“Right.” You’re not convinced; he can tell. And neither is he.
“You’re overthinking.” No shit, Sherlock.
Your sigh lands on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He senses you closer than he expected. “And you’re not?”
It’s his turn to let out a sigh this time.
“Right.” Your tone cools, as though distancing yourself slightly. Your hand remains, a tether.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N.” He sounds defeated and he wishes he could give you the reassurance you’re looking for. He can’t though. Not without lying.
“Do you want me to leave?” Your question takes him aback.
“What? No, that’s not what I’m saying, Y/N.” He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation.
“Stop saying my name like that.” Your voice not a whisper anymore and that does something to his head.
“Like what?” He provokes, tone harsher than intended.
“Like I’m a problem you can’t be bothered to deal with.” Your words pull him under, and he pauses to recollect his thoughts. He doesn’t want to argue, but it seems you do and Jeno is confused. Did he just imagine the last hour?
He rolls on his side to face you, and you let your hand fall from his arm. He feels the absence. “Can we please talk about this tomorrow? With clear heads?”
You shuffle closer and his heart thuds a little faster, your knee bumping into his accidentally. “Okay.” You whisper after you’ve settled into a more comfortable position, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, Jeno senses a hesitancy in your movements.
“You can move closer.” He smiles fondly and relief floods him when your arm wraps around his waist. He draws you in, fingers stroking the nape of your neck, tucking your head under his chin. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said.”
“Shh.” You scold, earning a tiny laugh from him.
“You’re funny.” He whispers into your hair, nails softly scratching your scalp, making you shudder.
“You’re not.” You retort, half-mumbled, and he snorts. His distress has somewhat dissolved, however the tension and confusion linger and Jeno prays that a goodnight’s sleep will fix whatever it is that broke between you and him tonight.
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Jeno gets woken up by an involuntary twitch of his own body and when he slowly cracks his eyes open, he’s reminded that he once again forgot to roll his blinds down, allowing the morning sunlight to invade his room.
He attempts to get into a more comfortable position, the fruity scent you carry drifts over him, and he relaxes — you’re still here, safe and real, reminding him that last night wasn’t just a fraction of his imagination.
You’re clinging onto him; cheek squished against his chest and he’s pretty sure you’re drooling on him. He feels a laugh bubbling in his chest, but he holds it in, not wanting to wake you yet.
The position you’re both in is slightly different to the one Jeno remembers falling asleep in. You’re using him as your pillow, your leg comfortably draped over his crotch, arm hugging his middle as though he’s your favourite teddy bear and he’s convinced that you must own one with the way you cling onto him like it’s a habit.
He raises his sprawled arm to wrap it around you and the second his hand finds your lower back, he assumes the shirt he put on you last night must have ridden up. His fingers splay just above your ass and he’s instantly reminded of your naked bottom half. He vividly remembers picking up your underwear off the floor last night, along with the rest of your clothes.
The thought of your nakedness brings him back to last night. Back to what you two did and how good you looked on top of him. And under him. And on his floor. His mind drifts from your smooth skin to the way you kissed him, to the way you took everything he gave you like you were made for it, like you craved it. He knows he shouldn’t. Especially when you’re soundly asleep in his arms, but Jeno has to suppress a groan at the thought of your warm and wet p-
Your sleepy hum pulls him back to reality and he mentally presses pause on the daydreaming session, but your bent knee nudging against his half hard dick doesn’t make things easy for him. Stupid morning wood, he thinks, as if his dirty mind didn’t just cause this.
He keeps his eyes shut, trying to think of dead puppies or his gran and it seems to be working, until your body moves, your face nuzzling in his neck, knee dragging over his crotch. The long sigh you let out against his skin, causes goosebumps to raise and he mentally curses.
Redirecting his focus to your comfort, he allows his knuckles to trace gentle circles along your spine, and he smiles when you shudder slightly, the little tremble of your body sparking a sense of delight within him.
“You awake?” You mumble in his neck, the tiny movement of your lips barely even there, but still enough to tickle him.
“Just about.” His voice comes out raspy, vocal cords still half asleep, causing him to clear his throat. He subtly wiggles his hips a little further down the mattress to escape the pressure of your knee and when you move with him, clinging onto him with a whine, he can’t help but use his free hand to steady you, forcing your leg further up his torso to ease the pressure.
“Sorry.” You whisper into his skin. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“No.” He reassuringly squeezes your thigh, thumb gingerly caressing the surface. “You?”
“No. Surprisingly.” If his eyes were open, Jeno would have rolled them in annoyance.
“Yeah, cause you’re always so uncomfortable around me.” His tone full of sarcasm, but he can’t help it. If you’re going to give him attitude, you’re going to get it back. Especially this early in the day when he’s slightly hungover and has not had his morning coffee.
“Grow up. You know what I mean.” Your humourless words contrast the way your fingers softly trace the line of his collarbone, a quiet familiarity in the gesture.
“You thought it would be awkward?”
“Didn’t you?” Your head moves, nose rubbing against his jaw, and he knows you’re looking at him. He adamantly keeps his eyes closed.
“What, just cause we fucked?” The light slap he receives on his chest makes him chuckle. He’s always enjoyed getting under your skin, but for some reason, now that you’re half naked in his bed, it’s even more rewarding. “It would have been awkward only if the sex was bad.”
You keep quiet and Jeno gives into the urge to turn his head and look at you, blinking his eyes a few times, adjusting to the sunlight. He raises his eyebrows expectantly as he dips his hand under your loose shirt, fingertips light as air, traveling up and down your spine slowly.
“Is this you indirectly asking if I liked it or not?” Your eyebrows raise in response, mirroring his expression.
“No, I already know you liked it. Just wanna know if it altered your brain chemistry.” He smirks at the way you roll your eyes, and if he didn’t know you to a certain extent, Jeno would really think you’re annoyed, but he recognises your usual façade.
“Mind-blowing sex isn’t the answer to everything Lee Jeno.” Your hand engulfs his jaw, fingers squishing his cheeks and shaking his face from side to side gently. “I’m one of the very few female friends you have and you’ve already stuck your penis in me. Raw.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you very blatantly ask me to fuck you?” His pointed look gets a surrendering smile out of you, hand now settling on the side of his neck. He’s not even fazed by your proximity; noses almost touching, bodies flush against each other like you’ve done this a million times.
“You stuck you tongue down my throat and then fingered me like nobody’s business. I’m only human.” Your bluntness makes him grin.
“So, what’s the problem? We both wanted it, no?” He rolls to face you fully, leg fitting naturally between yours, touch grounding yet intimate. He tries his hardest to keep his attention on you, but the whimper you let out shows him you’re just as affected, and his hand has somehow fallen on your ass.
“Why did you want it?” The question catches him off guard; your inquisitive eyes making his heart stutter.
“I was horny. And lonely. And you looked good. I mean...You always look good, I just-” He takes a breath to compose himself. Since when does he have trouble expressing himself in front of a woman?
“Relax, it’s not a test, I’m just genuinely curious.” Your chuckle and your fingers lightly pushing his fringe out of the way help him compose his chaotic brain just a little.
“I dunno. I just wanted you.” He settles for honesty and if that comes to bite him in the ass later, then so be it. “That too shallow for you?”
“No.” Your eyes travel around his face as you’re in deep thought and Jeno feels impatience creeping up on him.
“But?” He challenges, knowing it can’t be that simple.
“But, I don’t know if I can be normal around you now.” You purse your lips as you brush his bottom one with your thumb and he stops breathing for a second, his heart rate increasing significantly. “I don’t really do casual sex.”
He likes your honesty.
“When have you ever been normal around me, Y/N?” His light-hearted comment earns him a bashful smile from you, your thumb now tracing his cheekbone as he playfully gropes the part where your thigh connects to your ass. “Look, I’m not expecting anything. If you’re uncomfortable, we can go back to normal. You get your tutoring. I get my extra credit.”
“And you’d be happy with that?” Good question.
“I’m a big boy. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you want.” He offers a way out, but part of him hopes you don’t take it.
“What if I don’t know what I want?” Your eyes close, a long sigh escaping through your nose. He wants nothing more than to make it easier for you.
He smiles, conflicted.
“Then… I dunno. I guess we figure it out.” He says it casual, like it’s nothing — but his stomach twists anyway.
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The drive back to yours is quiet. Not uncomfortable, but definitely unusual. Neither you nor Jeno are usually this quiet around each other but now your thoughts are too loud and so are your doubts.
You barely register the car coming to a stop, having completely spaced out. It’s Jeno’s voice that brings you back to reality.
“Is here fine?”
“Hm? Yeah. Here’s great. Thanks for the lift.” His eyes are already on you when you look over at him, expectant and unsure. The corner of his mouth lifts subtly, a small smile forming as a response to your gratitude.
“I’ll see you Tuesday?” The tapping of his fingers against the wheel sounds louder that it should.
“Yeah. Tuesday.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.” You repeat dumbly, not sure how to approach your next words.
“Are y-”
“This shouldn’t happen again.” You blurt out and the tapping stops, his eyebrows raising slightly, but other than that, he remains calm.
“Alright.” He nods understandingly. “It won’t.” The warmth and playfulness his voice held until this morning, long gone.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He shrugs, his fake nonchalance sitting heavy in your stomach.
“I dunno. I feel like-”
“Y/N.” His hand finds your shoulder, hold grounding. “We’re good. Honest.” He turns in his seat, facing you better. “People have sex all the time. It’s not that deep.” He squeezes your shoulder once, barely there but you still feel it as his neutral smile does very little to convince you. Simply because it doesn’t reach his eyes. You hate this unfamiliar side of him.
“It’s fine if you don’t wanna tutor me anymore.”
“I do.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, touch reassuring.
“You sure?”
“I am. As long as you are.” Another subtle squeeze, now on your upper arm, his hand having slid down. “Plus...I really need the extra credit.” His playfulness is back, and you can’t hold back the sheepish smile that takes over your face.
“Okay then.” You exhale, somewhat relieved.
“Okay then.” He repeats, light-heartedly, the warm smile now reaching his eyes as his warm hand slides further down your arm before he completely retracts. The gesture should soothe you, but it somehow unsettles you.
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Next time you see him is indeed Tuesday. Your regular first session of the week. And it’s all fine. It’s all normal. It’s all good.
Until it isn’t.
Until you see a text pop up on his screen. Yuna.
We still on for tonight? It reads and you quickly avert your eyes back on the histogram displayed on your laptop screen. Something about a survey, a sample and frequencies. It’s all a mess now. Who the fuck is Yuna? And why is she texting him? What about tonight?
You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t. But then he’s quickly typing a response you can’t see and he places his phone face down. Like it never happened.
“What’d you get?” He interrupts your ridiculous thoughts as he leans over your shoulder to take a look at the scribbles on your notepad. “Correct formula. Wrong result.”
“What? Why?” You’re more annoyed than you should be. His raised eyebrows betray his shock at your abrupt tone.
“You’re asking me why you can’t count?” His smirk is worth slapping off. “Check your total number of observations again.” He taps his pen on the letter n and when you count again, you realise it’s 6 instead of 5. Great. You really can’t count.
“That’s just a silly mistake.”
“Which will cost you a whole lot of marks.” He does this thing where he twirls the pen between his index and middle finger, and it shouldn’t be that attractive. “You see, it’s not a matter of logic with you. You just need to concentrate.” He’s enjoying this too much. His smile audible.
“I am concentrated.” You state stubbornly.
“Concentrate better.”
“Fuck off.”
His lack of response causes you to look at him. His neutral eyes and pursed lips tell you he’s not going to entertain whatever argument you’re trying to start and that agitates you even more. So does his stupid cologne. And the fact that he’s so close still. His forearm is now resting on your notepad and all you can think of is how prettily it flexed when it was between your thighs.
“Sorry.” You sigh, slumping back into your chair, looking around the quiet café. You need air and all you keep getting is his scent. It’s not fair.
“Am I allowed to ask?” His tone is tentative, but present.
“Ask what?”
“What’s bothering you.” He starts going over what you’ve written on your notepad with his pen, overlining letters and numbers, following every curve. You glance at his profile for a moment and you’re thankful he’s now focused on the page in front of you.
“Nothing is bothering me.” You cross your arms over your chest defensively.
“Lie better.” The corner of his lips twitches as he keeps outlining, still not looking at you. Smug bastard.
“Is it me?” He side-eyes you for a split second, gaze meeting yours before dropping back down to the mistaken 5 you wrote down earlier. It’s like an insult.
“That’s awfully egotistical of you.” You challenge, making him struggle to hold back his smile. “What makes you think that?”
He shrugs. “Just a hunch.”
You lean over, elbow on the table, chin resting on your palm, closer now. “Not everything is about you, Jeno.” You say as calmly as possible.
His pen comes to a halt. Eyes catching yours without backing down now.
“As if you don’t think about me 24/7.” It’s a joke, but it’s not.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” You shouldn’t give into it. Into his flirting. But he makes it almost impossible to behave.
“Is it bad if I do?”
“Not bad. You’re just wrong.”
“Like your calculations.”
“What?”
“Solve it again. No calculator. Not like it helped you the first time anyway.” He leans back in his chair with an unbothered expression, pen dropping dismissively on your notepad as he resembles your stance, arms crossing over his buff chest. “Go on, I don’t have all day.” He points his chin to the page smugly. Did he just...play you?
“Prick.”
“Mhm.”
Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? If so, then you’re astronomically fucked.
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Two weeks go by. Four tutoring sessions with Jeno — all pure torture. But somehow, focusing on the calculations and formulas actually pays off. You don’t ask as many questions anymore, you get the correct results most of the time, and you even score 76% on the mock test Jeno printed out for you.
A glimmer of surprise flashes across his face when he finishes grading, but it quickly softens into something pleased. Proud, almost.
“Nice one,” he says, head bobbing in approval. “Let’s get to 80 next time.”
You like that look on him. Like that he’s proud of you. You wish you could see it more often.
But the wish evaporates the second you lay eyes on him tonight. Regret floods you for giving in to Mark’s pleas to come to this stupid party. As if the man needs a wingman — he always does fine on his own. And so does Jeno, by the looks of it. But you already knew that. So why does your chest tighten when you see a girl standing between his spread legs, his casual perch on the kitchen counter, plastic cup in one hand, the other tucked in his hoodie pocket?
He’s not touching her, but her hands are on his thighs, and even from behind her head, you see his face clearly. Smirking, dark eyes checking her out as he sips his drink. There’s no trace of innocence in the way he’s looking at her. It’s the same way he looked at you that night in his room.
You know you’re out of bounds. Yet jealousy gnaws at you, and you hate yourself for it. It shouldn’t affect you. You rejected him — or whatever that was. He should be the one pining, not you. But he’s fine, and here you are, still haunted by how warm and safe his body felt that morning.
It’s unfair.
Unfair in every way: the way he doesn’t spare you a glance, the way his eyes are fixed on her, the way he chuckles at whatever she says, the way he looks so good even while flirting with someone else.
Hood up, fringe falling messily over his eyes. He looks soft but dangerous at the same time. Effortless. Sleeves pushed up, baggy cargos that only he can pull off. He’s hotter than ever — and she’s touching him. Not you. He’s looking at her. Not you. Laughing with her. Not you. Not you. Not you.
“Dude, you’re staring.” Mark steps in, blocking your view of the kitchen and yanking you out of your trance. You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Maybe you’re being dramatic — but Mark won’t judge. He knows. “That bad, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up.” You mumble into your palms, relaxing slightly as Mark wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying your face in his chest and lightly swaying you from side to side.
“Awh c’mon… you’re good.” Mark shakes you playfully, helping your shoulders loosen. “It’s okay to be jealous.” He lowers his voice so only you can hear him.
“This is not helping you with the babes, I’m sorry.” You wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the comfort of your friend’s embrace — and you really shouldn’t — but you sneak a glance over his shoulder. Jeno is still there, the girl still perched between his legs, still talking. But his eyes are very clearly on you. Expression neutral, as always, never giving anything away. Yet if you were to guess, he looks conflicted — maybe a little annoyed.
Fuck this. You refuse to stare, burying your face deeper into Mark’s neck instead.
“Are you two planning on fucking tonight?” A boyish voice interrupts the moment. Pulling back, you see a boy standing next to you. You recognise him — always with Jeno or some girl you’d assume is his girlfriend. And he’s in your stupid stats class, too.
“Dude, have some decorum.” Mark protests, keeping one arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “Y/N, this is Haechan. Haechan, this is Y/N.”
“Hi, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Weird, you decide.
“Umm I don’t think I—”
“No time for that. Beer pong. Me and my girl versus you two. In or out?” Haechan cuts you off, no hesitation. As much as his energy overwhelms you, a game that involves alcohol sounds like a perfect distraction.
Mark looks over at you questioningly.
“In.”
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Easy. That’s what beating Haechan and his girlfriend was. Too easy. And you’re currently obliterating Chenle and this boy, Renjun, who you’re pretty sure is Jeno’s housemate.
You make the last shot. In. Some boys around the table cheer, some point fingers at the losing team, laughing at them.
“Let’s fucking go!” Mark grabs your shoulders from behind, shaking you and you can’t help but laugh at his dramatics.
“You just got lucky.” Haechan complains loudly.
“You can’t get lucky twice.” You point out as you rearrange the cups back to a perfect pyramid shape.
“You’re just a sore loser, dude.” Mark throws the ping pong ball at the weird boy, sticking his tongue out and Haechan looks like he’s had an epiphany.
“Maybe you should play against our champions.” He says with a glint of mischief written all over his face.
“Nah, I’m-”
“Someone get Jeno and Jaemin.” Haechan interrupts you for the second time tonight and now he’s seriously starting to annoy you.
“Someone else can take my spot.” You say nonchalantly as you place the last cup at the top of the pyramid.
“Oh, grow up.” Haechan challenges again.
“Get off my back. Respectfully.”
“Didn’t think you’d be boring. Respectfully.” He’s hinting at something you can’t quite decipher, but somehow you know Jeno has something to do with it.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You raise your voice a few decibels as you step closer to the annoying boy.
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, like his words didn’t hold some cryptic meaning.
“Care to elaborate?” You stand in front of him, arms crossing over your chest expectantly, eyebrow raising and he smirks. As though getting on your nerves is his newfound hobby. Seriously, what is this dude’s problem?
“Oh, you know, just that you’re a-”
“Yooo okay, let’s break it off.” Jeno’s voice cuts in before his friend can finish his sentence and suddenly, you’re being dragged away from the scene and the people that have gathered around without you noticing. You try to stand your ground, pulling away from the hand around your elbow and before you can approach smug Haechan again, Jeno stands in front of you.
“Walk away. Right now. Please.” His expression is unreadable, but he’s definitely not pleased. You can figure that much out.
“What’s it to you?” You challenge, suspicious of his involvement.
His eyes close for a second, jaw clenching, as though he’s collecting himself and Haechan’s voice cuts through again. “Yeah, Jen-Jen, what’s it to you?”
Jeno just steps closer to you, shielding you from his friend’s antics and before you have time to react, he’s dragging you away again. Hand tight around your wrist and you let him. Not before you look back, only to find Haechan wiggling his fingers at you in a playful wave and you can’t help but flip him off. His laugh is loud and if it weren’t for Jeno, the alcohol in your system would have prompted you to start a fight. How can someone be so irritating?
Once you’re out in the back garden, you force your arm out of Jeno’s hold.
“Chill.” His instruction makes your blood boil.
“What the fuck!” You shout loud enough to get some heads turning, interrupting their smoking sessions. Jeno just chuckles, index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’s so funny?” You’re quieter now but you make sure to keep the cold tone on.
“Are you a child?” He asks with an amused smile as he leans his weight against the wall and if you weren’t so pissed off, you’d swoon at how good he looks right now.
“He started it.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a child.” Jeno points out like it’s a fact you should be aware of. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie and you realise how chilly it actually is.
“I’m assuming he knows me as the slut who slept with his friend just to get over her ex.” You move to lean against the wall next to him and he snorts at your comment.
“You know I don’t slut shame.” He says casually, his breath visible in the cold air. “Besides, is that what that was?” He’s looking down at his shoes as he kicks some pebbles into the grass. “Rebound sex?”
“You know it wasn’t.”
“So, why do you care about what Haechan thinks?”
“Cause he’s your friend.”
“He’s also a wind up.” Jeno turns his head to look down at you. “And you let him get to you.”
“He’s fucking annoying is what he is.” You scan the garden as you rest your hands behind your back, preventing the concrete from digging into your ass.
“Yeah, he’s for the thick skinned.” He says it with fondness, and it baffles you. “His girlfriend tolerates him just fine, so he must be doing something right.”
“An unsolvable mystery.” You mumble and Jeno chuckles, though you weren’t really joking.
There’s a pause. A comfortable silence between you, which in that moment you really appreciate.
“Didn’t know you were that good at beer pong.” Jeno elbows your side playfully and you almost smile, but then you remember that the only reason you decided to play was to distract yourself from him and the girl who was feeling him up.
“Surprised you even saw that.” It’s meant to be teasing, light-hearted. It’s anything but that.
“Why’s that?” His tone is devoid of any playfulness now.
“You just looked...busy.” You refuse to look at him but you feel his stare on your side profile. You feel hot all of a sudden. Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?
“So?”
“So, nothing. Just an observation.” You try your best to stay calm, but your pulse has increased significantly and you feel like throwing up. Jeno’s scoff is difficult to ignore.
“I don’t get you, Y/N.” You’re still adamantly looking anywhere else but at him, but you can imagine his expression. He’s definitely doing that thing he does with his eyebrows when he’s confused. The one that makes him look like a puppy. And you hate yourself. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” You defend quickly.
“Right.”
“What do you want from me, Jeno?” You close your eyes in exasperation.
“No. What do you want?” He moves to stand in front of you now, giving you no option but to look at him. “You fucking rejected me. You don’t get to be jealous. So why am in the wrong here?”
God, you’re such an idiot.
“What exactly did I reject?”
“What?” Genuine confusion painted all over his face.
“What did you expect? That we’d keep fucking and live happily ever after? I’m sorry, I don’t do that shit. I can’t.” Words leave before thought; regret floods instantly. You expect him to argue back, to shout, to react, but his next words hurt you even more.
“Yeah, no, I’m not doing this.” He shakes his head in disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping.
“Not doing what?”
“I’m not gonna argue with you, when you’ve already come to your conclusions.”
“So, I’m wrong then? Did you want a relationship with me? Did you wanna take me to bruch? Buy me flowers? Introduce me to your parents?” Silence. “You said it yourself. You were horny and I happened to be there. A girl doesn’t give you what you want and you act like your heart is broken. Boo-hoo, wah-wah, grow the fuck up.”
For the first time in the four months you’ve known the boy in front of you, his face is not stoic. He looks enraged, disgusted even. “You’re a fucking joke, Y/N.”
You don’t even know what can beat that. He’s right.
He steps closer and you wish you weren’t backed up against the wall. He’s too close. “I don’t know who fucking hurt you, and I don’t give a shit quite frankly. What I do know is I’m not a punching bag and I don’t like games.”
“I’m not playing a game.”
“No?” His head tilts.
“No.” Your voice comes out weak. He’s suffocating you and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Your stomach heavy.
“You say you don’t want me. Then you flirt with me every chance you get. You get moody whenever a girl’s name pops up on my phone. You hate when my attention isn’t on you. You get jealous. You make petty comments. You can’t even look at me right now. Should I go on?”
Are you really that obvious? If you had balls, he’d have you by them.
“I might fuck around, but at least I’m honest about what I want.” His index and middle finger poke you on the chest, right in the middle and he might as well carve your heart out at this point. “You’re the game player here. Not me.” He says quietly, but the words echo loudly in your head.
You blink and there’s wetness dripping down your cheek and the only thing you can do is nod, eyes avoiding his again, the stamp on his hoodie a lot more interesting, but blurry as another tear escapes. It’s not sadness. It’s anger. You’re angry with yourself mostly, but also him. Because he confuses you. Because he makes you feel vulnerable. Because he makes your heart do things it shouldn’t. And he scares you. So much. The way he grounds you scares you. The way he always talks sense scares you. The way he understands you scares you. The way he sees you...it scares you.
“Why are you crying?” There’s no malice laced with his words, just worry. A genuine question. Whispered.
“I wanna go home.” If misery could be pictured, it would be you. You sound like a spoilt child that didn’t get their favourite toy on Christmas day.
“Okay.” He doesn’t move and neither do you. You can feel his eyes on your face and you can’t help but look into them when his thumb wipes the tears off your cheek. His palm feels warm on your cold skin, soothing your heart and you wish you could bury your whole being in it. You just hide your face in it for now.
“I don’t like you when you’re mean.” You sniffle a little, half aware that he’s stepped closer now. His familiar clean scent engulfs you and you sigh in contentment. Your hands instinctively grab onto each side of his hoodie pocket and when you look up at him, you can tell he’s trying to fight off a smile. His features are on the softer side again, puppy-like. The fairy lights reflect on his eyes, illuminating tiny little star-like specks.
“Don’t make me act mean then.” His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Your pride wants you to push him away, but for some reason you let him touch you. You also let your forehead rest on his sternum, and you let his arms wrap around your shoulders, hugging you into him, into his warmth. The embrace is very similar to the one Mark gave you earlier, but so different in so many ways. It calms you like no other hug ever could. Like no one could ever compare. And maybe no one can.
“Are you still mad?” Your question is muffled by the fabric of his jumper, cheek squished against his chest, eyes closed as you bask in the proximity.
“Mhm.” He answers a little too quickly for your liking, but his arms tighten a little more around you and you can’t fight off the tiny smile that threatens to take over your face.
“Do you still like me?” You feel him tense just then and your arms wrap around his middle in fear of him pulling away.
“I mean...” You feel his chest move as he exhales loudly, his chin rests on your head. “I don’t hate you.”
“Good.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
It’s two days later that you decide to face the problem that is Lee Jeno. A normal late Sunday afternoon. You’ve done your shopping for the week, gone over some lecture notes, caught up on all your uni emails, procrastinated, even gone on a run to convince yourself that you didn’t just sit around all day. You send the text before you can talk yourself out of it, and when 15 minutes go by without a response, you start to regret it.
Are you busy tonight?
The screen laughs in your face each time you check your phone and see no new notification. Why did you decide to act brave tonight? Why are you so stupid? Of course he’s busy. He’s probably in bed with that Yuna girl, altering her brain chemistry like he did yours. You wonder if he cuddles all the girls he sleeps with like he cuddled you. All careful and possessive.
You’re about to change into your pyjamas when you hear it.
Ding.
Jeno: just got back from the gym
Jeno: need a shower and then i can be free
Jeno: how come?
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Do you reply now, or should you give it some time? Make him wait like he made you wait? NO. No games. He said it himself.
You: come to mine?
You: gigi and mark are out
You: we can talk
You: you want
You: *if
Your fingers are shaking so much you forgo typing a whole word and you can only hope he’s not laughing at you when you send the correction. Five long minutes go by before he replies again.
Jeno: i want
Jeno: gimme 30 mins
You snort at the text mocking your typo. Of course he won’t pass an opportunity to tease you. He definitely knows you’re shitting bricks.
You react with a thumbs up before you start pacing around your apartment, looking for things to do until he arrives.
First you wash up the few forgotten mugs in the kitchen sink. Then you reorganise the cereal boxes that Giselle and Mark always mess up.
He texts you a simple omw when you’re contemplating whether you should put on jeans or keep your joggers on. You decide on the latter. No need to try hard.
He knocks when you’ve just finished brushing your teeth for the second consecutive time, which you’re starting to regret because your gums sting now.
You take a deep breath before opening the door and when you do, he’s standing right there, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool as ever. His signature look. Attire matches yours: big hoodie and baggy joggers, emitting comfort and softness.
His eyes scan you like yours scan him. Head to toe. “Cute socks.” He nods in approval and when you look down at your feet, you realise you’re wearing fuzzy Christmas socks with little mistletoes on them. Great. “Swear Christmas was like a month ago.”
“They’re warm.” You step aside to let him in, and he quickly takes his shoes and jacket off by the door before trailing toward the living room area. You observe him as he carefully places his thick jacket on the back of the sofa. He inspects the room like he’s never been in your apartment before. It feels oddly domestic when he’s not here for a tutoring session.
You set your phone on silent and quickly notice the time. Apart from the fact that he’s five minutes early, it dawns on you that it’s dinner time.
“You hungry?” The words slip before you can stop them, and he swiftly turns around to look at you. You’re still leaning against the door as he plops down on the sofa armrest.
“I could eat.” He shrugs with a lopsided smile. He looks so boyfriend-coded like this. So warm and soft. Just lounging around your living room. “Unless you’re cooking.” His eyes are full of mischief, smile cheeky.
“I mean, I was thinking of ordering, but you can starve if you’re gonna insult me in my own home.”
He ends up placing the order. Something about a deal on his Deliveroo, but you know he just didn’t want you paying. Just like when he never lets you pay for your coffee but complains when you occasionally pay for his.
He’s munching on a dumpling when you’ve run out of things to talk about. You’ve covered the hangover you were both nursing the day before, his gym session and how he got hit on by a guy, your running session and how you got drenched by the rain, the stats chapter you’ll be entering next week, the fact that you both have a seminar tomorrow morning, the fact that you might skip. You talk about anything and everything but what you both really want to talk about.
“Did you stay long on Friday after I left?” You ask casually as you blow on your spring roll to help cool it down.
He shakes his head. “Nah. You left at the right time. It was dead after.” He drops his chopsticks on his plate and grabs a napkin for his hands.
“What about the girl you were with?” It slips. But at least it doesn’t sound malicious. Your eyes meet for half a second and you almost laugh at the side-eye he gives you.
“Still not over that?” He leans back on the sofa, getting more comfortable, legs spreading a little as he sips on his water.
“It’s just a question. Don’t deep it.” You take a sip of your own water before turning your body completely toward him, legs criss-crossing, arm resting on the back of the sofa.
He pulls his hood up as he slides a little further down the cushions, almost as though you’ve put him on the spot and he’s trying to hide. You find it amusing. “Nothing happened if that’s what you’re asking.” No glance toward you still; he’s too busy trying to stabilize the half-empty water bottle on his stomach and only when he fails for the third time does he look at you.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t really my type.”
You nod. “Didn’t realize you had one of those.” You twirl one of your rings with your thumb. You feel nervous suddenly but choose to push your sarcasm forward.
He blinks, unamused. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
“I judged you.” You say quickly, refusing to back down now. His eyebrows tense a little, emitting confusion for just a second. “And I’m sorry.” You chew on the inside of your cheek as you wait for a response.
He nods just once before averting his attention to the bottle again. “You’re not the first or the last person to do that.”
“I have trouble seeing the good in people.” You avert your eyes to the loose thread on your sleeve. It’s difficult staying afloat when he looks at you the way he always does. Like you’re easy to read.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” You detect a smile in his tone and you hate that you don’t have to see it to know it’s there. You expect him to ask why. He doesn’t; you sense his contemplative eyes on you still. A beat of silence passes and you find yourself trapped in it, struggling to utter more words. He helps with the worst possible question. “Why did you sleep with me, Y/N?”
“Don’t say it like that.” You let out a humourless laugh.
“Like what?” There’s expectancy in his voice. His restraint is slowly breaking.
“Like I lured you in or something.” You pull the loose thread harder. He lets out a short laugh. It sounds accidental.
“Just answer the question.” He taps on the plastic bottle as if to get your attention. “And look at me.” His eyebrows lift momentarily when you do, like a greeting. The situation seems awfully comical—or maybe it’s the fact that you struggle to stay serious in serious situations. He mirrors your barely-there smile regardless.
“There’s not just a single reason.” You can’t be more honest than that.
“Okay, so name three.” He holds his thumb, index, and middle finger up, wiggling them as he waits for you to start listing. “Go on.” He nods when he senses your hesitation.
You sigh dramatically as you look around the room, like the answers are hidden in the furniture. “I guess you’re attractive.”
“That doesn’t count. I want profound stuff.”
You scoff. “Since when?” You raise an eyebrow and his pointed look makes you back down, his three fingers waving slightly, demanding.
“You made me feel comfortable.”
Middle finger down.
“I was intrigued.”
Pointer down. He nods again when you pause for too long. It takes everything not to look down, but you don’t.
“Felt right.”
“And now it doesn’t?” He’s quick. No hesitation. No whys and hows. He sits up and turns to look at you properly, mirroring your position. One arm drapes over the back of the sofa while the other holds onto the water bottle still, one leg folded under him, the other hanging off the sofa. You like that he’s comfortable in your vicinity; it calms the turmoil inside you.
“It does. It’s just confusing.” You admit. His eyes look more alive now.
“What’s so confusing? People fancy each other. They fuck. They either make it a thing or they don’t.” For someone who normally reads you in no time, he seems to be struggling now.
“Jen, this isn’t stats. It’s not that simple.” You smile fondly at his confusion. “Besides, what exactly is this thing we could make it into?” You can almost see the gears spinning in his head. This, he doesn’t seem to have an answer for.
“This might sound wild, but I happen to know what dating is.” His widened eyes evoke a laugh out of you. Maybe he did have an answer after all.
“You wanna date me.” You deliver the question in deadpan tone.
He tilts his head a little. “Would that be so terrible?”
You purse your lips in thought. Would it? “Do you understand what that entails?” God, you sound so condescending. Like a middle-aged person.
“God forbid we go somewhere other than a café and talk about something other than stats.” The sarcasm in his voice makes you roll your eyes. Mostly because it makes him sound hot. You almost flinch when he shuffles closer, his knee touching yours. He drops the bottle he’s been fiddling with somewhere behind him and his fingers find yours in a heartbeat. Like he didn’t even think about it. Like it’s reflex.
“That’s not what I mean.” You know he knows, but you say it anyway. Your eyes find your hand in his, thumb stroking your knuckles gently before gliding over a ring, finding a new toy to fiddle with.
“I’ll be good to you.” You bring your gaze to his face. He looks almost shy, eyes on your hands and if the lighting were stronger, you might have been able to spot the blush on his cheeks better. You imagine it for now. “I don’t expect you to trust me from the get-go.” He chews on his bottom lip for a second. “But maybe— you know—maybe eventually...” He looks up, scanning your face for a reaction, which you try tremendously hard not to give because you just happen to love a pathetic man. He’s unsure, but he’s trying. You’ll give him that.
“Ask me properly.” You squeeze his fingers once and he has the cutest look of hope on his face.
“You’re going on a date with me.”
“I said ask—”
“I’m telling you.” He tugs on your arm playfully and you can’t help but gleam at his unusually playful antics.
“Alright.”
“Cool.”
“Now get out of my house.”
“Sorry?” Genuine surprise takes over his features; eyebrows furrowed to the maximum, eyes wide.
“You’re not staying the night.” You pat his thigh as you get up and start picking up the takeout boxes lying scattered on your coffee table.
“Why not?” He sounds almost offended. You laugh quietly as you walk into the kitchen.
“You’re just not.” He hasn’t moved from his spot on the sofa when you look back at him.
“I won’t try anything.”
Your pointed look forces the corners of his mouth to curl into a mischievous smile. “I’ll just cuddle you.”
“Next joke.”
“You really think I’m not capable of keeping it in my pants?” You don’t even bother responding to his silly question.
When you approach him again, you stand in front of him and with the way he looks up at you, it takes a lot to not just get on your knees for him.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” You admit, hinting at something he catches on quickly, his pleased smile difficult to miss.
He moves closer, warm hands engulfing the backs of your knees, his hood dropping as he cranes his neck to gaze up at you with pretty eyes. He looks almost innocent like this. So handsome. “At least give me a kiss.”
Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, looking for support as he pulls you closer, between his spread legs. This screams anything but innocent, and the way he nuzzles his face against your tummy has your breath hitching. You bury a hand in his hair, nails lightly scratching as he breathes you in.
“Just one, yeah?” Your quiet offer makes him look up again, eyes finding yours in an instant, chin resting on your lower abdomen. Who knew Lee Jeno could look so submissive and sexy at the same time.
“Just one. And I’ll fuck off before you know it.” You should tease him. Make him beg. But he looks too good for that. Too insatiable. And you can always make him beg another day.
You do exactly what you said you wouldn’t do. You get on your knees, between his spread ones, and now it’s you that has to look up at him. Your hands find his strong thighs and the thought that enters your mind isn’t a pleasant one. Envy flickers for a moment, remembering the girl from two nights ago, standing between his legs in a very similar position. But then you see how he looks at you and envy becomes want. He didn’t look at her like that, nowhere near.
His hands fall on top of yours before trailing up your arms and you drag your knees across the carpet to get closer. Your noses touch when his palms engulf each side of your neck, thumbs tracing your jawline, fingers reaching your nape, his touch making your knees feel weak as your heart beats faster, and you’re worried he can feel it through your pulse points.
“You know,” His top lip grazes your bottom one lightly and you can’t help but bite onto the spot he touched. “You’re doing a bit too much for just one kiss.”
“You either want it, or you don’t.” You match his low tone; afraid you’ll break the trance you both seem to be in, your fingers lightly squeezing his thigh muscles in encouragement.
You see his smirk and then you don’t. Your eyes drop shut the second his mouth is on yours, claiming. His palms feel warm on your cheeks, his lips soft on yours but demanding, thighs tensing under your wandering hands, and you feel dizzy as you let him tilt your head as he pleases, let his tongue in your mouth, let him taste you. It’s wet and it’s loud and it’s hot, the neurons in your brain already useless.
You really should pull away, not give in to him so easily, but one hand is in your hair now, tugging, the other around your throat, gentle but assertive, and the whimper you let out is embarrassing. Your hands clench around the fabric of his joggers; your pussy around nothing, and that’s when you abruptly push him away, hands on his firm chest. You think your ears deceive you, but you swear Lee Jeno just whined. A needy, pathetic whine. So beautiful. It makes something coil in your chest, a pulse of heat you didn’t expect, a reminder of just how much power he has over you in a single sound.
His back is against the sofa cushions now, and he looks defeated, chest visibly moving. “You’re a fucking menace.”
You laugh a little too loudly at how out of breath he sounds, as though he didn’t just have full control of that kiss. His lips are shiny, a darker shade of their usual pink, and you lick at yours, realizing they must be just as wet. You can still taste him, and your walls flutter around emptiness again. You’re tempted to look down and check whether he’s also affected, but you withhold. That would make things so much worse.
“I promised one kiss. I gave it to you.” You pat his thighs gently, and his hands catch yours again, fingers interlocking this time. It’s your heart that flutters this time.
“Alright, Dua Lipa.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno has always known you’re trouble. He’s always pitied the guy you’ll end up with—or anyone who falls for you. Not because you’re not a catch, but because he views you as someone hard to say no to. And now… he’s exactly the kind of guy he pities. He’s never thought of himself as a weak man. But here he is, walking you home after your regular Tuesday session, pretending he’s listening to your rant about some professor who hates you and struggling not to make his fascination obvious. Because he really is fascinated—by the way you move your hands, the way you furrow your eyebrows in frustration, the way you swear a little too much when you’re stressed, and the way you say “what the fuck,” because what the fuck is wrong with him?
He can’t stop thinking about how adorable you looked earlier when you drew a Venn diagram correctly, how your eyes lit up when you got his validation, how you gasped when the only thing he said was “good job.” Not because he has some weird claim on you, but because he likes how determined you are to do well. And he likes that he’s helping you. But most of all, he likes that you’re succeeding. Jeno is positive you don’t even need his help to pass the module anymore, but he can’t bring himself to tell you that just yet—simply because he likes that you want his help.
It’s been two days since that obliterating kiss, and Jeno keeps pondering. You. How you got on your knees. How you touched him. How you sounded. How easily you ruined him with just one kiss. He knows he’s already slept with you, but for some reason, that kiss beats any other moment he’s had with you. It was too good. Too much. And oh, what he would give to experience that again.
“You free this Friday?” The question slips mid-thought, and the silence that follows makes him turn his head to look at you. He struggles not to laugh at your dumbfounded expression, pursing his lips to control the smile that threatens to take over his face.
“You weren’t listening just now, were you?” You scold, though the tone of amusement is still evident.
“Nah. Not really.” He blatantly admits, getting a kick out of annoying you.
“Dickhead.” You huff in the cutest way possible.
“Friday.” He repeats stubbornly as you’re nearing your building. “Free or not?”
“What exactly am I walking into here?” You ask carefully, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“An orgy.”
“Yeah, alright, get me involved.” Your bored tone shouldn’t make him smile.
He sighs in annoyance, because there’s no way you don’t know what he’s hinting at. “I wanna take you out, you pleb.”
“Pleb?”
He groans dramatically. “Oh my god—”
“I’m actually not.”
“What?”
“I’m not free on Friday. I promised Gigi I’d do movie night.” No way. Fuck that. There’s no way he’s asking you out and you’re rejecting him.
“You serious? You’re blowing me off for some movie night?” He knows he should tone it down. He’s sounding hurt, and it’s not that deep. It shouldn’t be.
“I’m not blowing you off—”
“You so are. Royally.” He can’t help but feel a little defeated. He’s never winning with you.
“I can do Saturday.” You say with a hopeful tone, and Jeno feels some relief at the fact that you’re not entirely rejecting him.
“I said I’d go to this stupid party on Saturday.” He grumbles. He doesn’t even want to go, but you’re not willing to cancel your plans for him. So why should he?
“Right, well… we’ll have to do next week then.” The disappointment in your voice makes his heart jump and his stomach clench. Why do you keep doing that? Until now, it was his head. Now, you’re messing with his heart and stomach too? It’s unfair.
“Why don’t you come with me?” He offers, hoping it doesn’t make him seem weak. Although he knows that’s exactly what he is—a weak, needy, pathetic man. For you.
“To your stupid party?” You almost sound offended, and now he regrets even asking.
“Yeah.” He sighs as you both come to a halt outside your building. It’s dark already, and the streetlights reflect prettily on your face, accentuating your features. Your nose is a little red from the cold, and you’re in thought, teeth catching your bottom lip as you consider his invitation.
“That’s not really taking me out though, is it?” You try shyly. You never tiptoe around things. And Jeno hates that he loves that.
“I just want to spend time with you, Y/N.” He attempts to lower his guard a little but realizes how awfully intimate his words sound. Oh well. “We can show face for a bit, and then we can just fuck off if it’s boring, go somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Disneyland.” He deadpans again, trying to put on the fakest smile he can, but unintentionally, it transforms into a genuine one. He blames the cute way you roll your eyes at him. So unamused.
“Wow, you’re on a roll today. How will I ever recover from this laughter?” You sound bored, but he sees how hard you’re trying to hold back your smile.
“God, you’re annoying.” And he’s not lying. You are so fucking annoying. And so fucking pretty. He blames the streetlights. And his stupid heart.
You outright laugh at his exasperation, and Jeno finds himself in a predicament. He could ignore you, move on with the conversation, or he could shut you up. It’s an easy decision.
The cute sound of surprise you let out when his lips crash onto yours is imprinted on his brain, and so is your soft touch on his chest, and so is the way you kiss him back, matching his eagerness, and so is your taste, and so is the way your body molds into his. It all just fits perfectly. You fit perfectly.
Your nose feels cold against his cheek, but the back of your neck feels hot against his frosty fingers, and he wonders when it became such a normal thing for him to notice details like that. A kiss is a kiss. There shouldn’t be any science behind it. That’s what he always thought. Until that night you sat with him on the carpet at the foot of his bed.
A wet smooching sound echoes in the cold of the evening when he pulls away, and he can’t fight his smile seeing how you lean closer, chasing after his lips.
“Come.” He whispers, both your breaths visible.
“Huh?” You sound lost, blinking quickly as though adjusting back to reality. Did he just kiss you, stupid?
“On Saturday. Come with me.” He sounds like he’s begging now, and he hates it. That’s what it’s come to.
He trails his hands down your arms, over your thick jacket, and the bashful expression on your face makes his pulse fasten as he threads his fingers through yours.
“Okay. I’ll come.” Success.
“Good.” He leans down, leaving another chaste kiss on your lips before he can chicken out, and then, as you’re about to speak, he’s walking away.
“Dude, what th—”
“You better have that mock test ready for Thursday!” He shouts over his shoulder, and he wishes his resolve was stronger, but he can’t fight the need to look back. And the confusion on your cute face is so worth it.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno doesn’t know what to do with himself.
There you are. A few feet away from him, in this crowded space, conversing with some girls he’s never met before. So confident, carrying yourself so gracefully, your laugh audible and sweet. So sweet, so intoxicating, so heart-wrenching.
He brought you here. And for some reason, he expected you to not leave his side; to crowd him, to be needy and demand his attention. As always, he was mistaken. He should know by now, you’re not like most girls he’s associated himself with. But he’s a fool. A fool who keeps misjudging you and putting you in the same basket as everyone else.
And there you always are. Proving him wrong every single time.
“What’s with the long face?” Haechan’s voice cuts through Jeno’s trail of thought.
“No long face.” Jeno quickly dismisses the accusation. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking at a party? You must be in serious trouble.” As much of a smart-ass as his friend can be, he’s got the tendency of being right most of the time. And just like now, he’s always smug about it, the irritating smirk on his face proof.
“Fuck off.” Jeno mutters, always harmless. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to bless with your annoying-ass face?”
“And bless her I shall.” Haechan sings, making Jeno snort at his silliness. “Quit yearning and just go talk to her, you dumb-ass bitch. You look like you’ve seen a litter of dead puppies.” Haechan whispers aggressively as he walks away swiftly, before Jeno can have the pleasure of shoving him.
“Wet wipe.” Jeno curses under his breath as he watches his friend lovingly wrap his arms around his girlfriend, his face nuzzling into her neck as she smiles bright. It’s sweet and it’s disgusting, and the undeniable feeling of envy fills Jeno. He’s envious of them both. Because as disgusting as they can be, they’re happy. And they don’t fail to remind him every fucking second.
When Jeno redirects his vision to you, he’s met with your eyes, and you shatter him with the sweetest smile you’ve ever given him. And there goes his poor heart again. His lips move on their own, returning the gesture without permission, and when you extend your hand in his direction, wordlessly asking him to join you, there goes his stomach. His legs seem to work on their own, because in a few seconds, he’s pushing himself off the wall, crossing the room, and in a few more, Jeno’s got your hand in his.
“Hey.” You greet quietly, with a small squeeze around his fingers.
“Hey, yourself.” He instinctively pulls you closer into his side and you smile wider, looking down bashfully, the group you were chatting with long forgotten behind you.
“Having fun?” You seem genuinely interested, and for some reason, Jeno feels weak. Words don’t come easily in that moment, so he just shrugs, nose scrunching a little.
“You?”
“Eh, I’m too sober.” The way you wrap both arms around his has him in a chokehold, and Jeno looks around at the chaos of the party, then back down at you.
“Wanna get out of here?” He asks, relieved that your eyes light up with hope.
“Disneyland?” You tease, a tiny smirk adorning your face. Jeno chews on his bottom lip to prevent his own smile.
“Disneyland.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno’s place is relatively tidy compared to last time you were there. Some books are scattered here and there, a plant struggling to stay alive in the corner, a used-up mug on the coffee table. Though very evident that it’s a boys’ house, you can smell the laundry detergent. It’s messy but clean, and for some reason, that makes you feel a sense of warmth.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You twirl your finger in the air, gesturing at the space as you walk further inside the living room.
He snorts as he takes off his shoes, placing them next to yours. “Did you expect a crack den?”
“Sure looked like one last time.” You stand in front of the bookshelves, scanning all the titles they’ve collected. “I’m assuming these aren’t all yours.”
“And why would you assume that?” He’s standing a lot closer than you thought; you can almost feel his body heat seeping through your thick jumper.
“Dunno.” You stay put, refusing to turn around and look at him. “You don’t strike me as much of a reader.”
He lets out a short laugh, his breath hitting the back of your neck. Oh, he’s close—close.
“And what do I strike you as?” His fingers make contact with the back of your hand, lightly tracing until his index hooks around your pinky. The gesture feels a lot more intimate than it should, and even though it’s the least sexual thing anyone could do, you feel yourself getting hot.
“As someone who reads because they should, not because they want to.”
“Wow.” His whisper hits your ear as his thumb fumbles gently with the ring you’ve got on your pinky. “You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?”
“Not really, no.” Your breath hitches slightly as he wraps his other arm around your middle, pulling you flush against him. His chest feels hard against your back, and his breathing is definitely a lot more stable than yours, but his heartbeat doesn’t match his calmness. It’s oddly comforting.
He doesn’t stall when you turn around. His lips instantly find yours. No teasing, no hesitation.
He’s everywhere.
You feel him everywhere, and your heart hurts from the intensity. From how gentle he is. From how slow he kisses you compared to all the other times.
You’re worried he can feel the heat radiating off your skin when his hand cradles your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone so delicately you feel hysterical. The whimper you let out seems to encourage him as he tilts his head a little, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help but part your lips more, desperate to taste him.
Your hands slither up to his hair, threading through the short strands, and a moan escapes from your throat when he pushes you into the bookshelf, his tongue obscenely licking into your mouth, tangling with yours in a wet mess.
“You hungry?” He mutters into the kiss, clearly with no intention of pulling away, but your arms circle his neck, holding him closer—just in case he made the unacceptable choice of stopping.
“Mm-mm.” Your refusal vibrates between your mouths as you kiss him harder, his uncoordinated breathing egging you on as you walk him backward, blindly leading your tangled bodies to the sofa.
“Thirsty?” He’s smiling as he lets you guide him, his hands grabbing onto your hips, refusing to put space between your bodies.
“No.” You clumsily stumble over your feet, and his arms around you help you regain your balance, his light chuckle hitting you on the lips, breath hot against you, as he harshly lands on the sofa cushions, eagerly helping you straddle him as though being apart from you is unfathomable.
“Guessing you’re not tired either.” He barely gets to finish the sentence before a grunt leaves him; your fingers pulling harshly at his hair as you shamelessly shove your tongue in his mouth, easily shutting him up. He slumps against the sofa with a sigh against your lips, hands limply resting on your ass as he lets you take control.
“What about you? You tired?” You break the kiss with a loud, wet smack, your hand around his neck preventing him from trailing after you. You tighten your hold when he attempts to move again, and you revel in the sight of his confused expression. It's almost like a newfound pleasure, like it’s something he didn’t know he wanted until now. You can tell by the tensing of his eyebrows, the quick blinking of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw, the clawing at your ass cheeks.
He’s never been put in his place before, and it shows.
“Answer me.” You instruct seductively, lips brushing his as you grind down on the very evident erection suffocating in his jeans.
“Fuck—no. I’m not fucking tired.” He grits, nostrils flaring in annoyance, and his harsh expression earns a smirk from you as you make sure to press harder on the sides of his neck. A mean laugh tumbles out of you as his resolve breaks, eyes rolling back the second you grind down again, the fabric of your jeans rubbing against your throbbing clit deliciously, but you ignore the pleasure, focusing on how responsive Jeno’s body has suddenly become.
He could easily overpower you, take matters into his own hands, ruin you if he wanted to, and that knowledge turns you on a lot more than it should. Because he’s actively choosing to be submissive. He’s silently asking to be choked, succumbing to the power you didn’t know you held over him. Until now.
“You’re kinda pathetic, Jen.” You whisper in his ear, his moan vibrating between your chests as you leave a little kiss on his cheek. “It’s cute.”
“Fuck off.”
You’re not sure if it was meant to come out harsh, but it’s far from it. It’s whiny and breathless.
“That’s mean.” You coo at him, another soft kiss left on his cheek before a theatrical pout takes place on your lips. “You promised you’d be good to me.”
“You’re the one who’s being mean.” His head turns so he can look at you, arms wrapping tightly around you, and you can’t help but loosen your hold around his throat.
He’s blinking slowly, breathing shallowly, and you swear his hazy eyes are going to be the death of you. He looks weak and sweet and so fucked out, and if it weren’t for the next words that leave his mouth, you would have held your ground.
“I like you.” He whispers. So casual but so lethal at the same time. “A lot.”
You sit up a little, and he follows after you, arms tightening around you as he buries his face in your chest, sighing heavily, making your heart go crazy. He can definitely feel it.
“Say something.” His words are muffled against the fabric of your jumper, and you can’t tell when exactly you started stroking his hair, both hands softly threading.
“I like you too.” You murmur in his hair, inhaling the boyish but sweet smell of his shampoo, and you smile when his shoulders visibly relax.
“Stay tonight.”
You know what he’s asking, and when he looks up at you, you also know it’s game over.
You give him a little nod before leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, his surprised expression making you feel giddy. “I’ll stay.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Lee Jeno is a lot of things.
He’s stubborn and annoying and cocky at times and he’s annoyingly smart and good with numbers which makes him a good tutor. He’s nice at times too, and funny and oddly endearing. He’s also incredibly hot, and cute, even though he hates being called that.
But you’ve always known those things.
What you didn’t know is how incredibly and unfairly good he is at giving head. Out of this world good. And as much as you hate it you also can’t help but love it. What you love the most, however, is how much he seems to love it.
“Holy shit, Jen, slow down.” You pant, thighs shaking in overstimulation, your body trying to comprehend the intense orgasm it just went through, but Jeno doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck.
“Shut up and keep your legs open.” He mutters into your drenched pussy, arousal and spit coating the lower half of his face, the scene before you incriminating as you struggle to do as he says with a pathetic whine.
“I’m too sensitive, you psycho.” Your futile attempt to harshly pull at his hair, backfires as he shoves two fingers in your dripping hole, a string of spit landing on your clit, thumb replacing his tongue in harsh circles. His fingers reach deeper than yours ever have, stimulating the sensitive spot inside your walls with ease.
“Don’t want my tongue? Fine. You’re taking my fingers.” His hand is thrusting roughly, digits barely pulling out as he creates a vibration-like motion, abusing your g-spot like nobody’s business.
“Oh my god!” Your screech is embarrassing, and so is the way your trembling fingers grip his bedsheets. What really is mortifying, though, is how loud your cunt is. The lewd sounds are almost offensive to your dignity, which seems to be out the window by now. You feel too hot, sweat dripping down your temples and you wish you had the energy to take off your top, the intense pleasure clouding all your senses.
“Just accept that you’re gonna cum again.” The sweet kiss he leaves on your inner thigh highly contrasts the way he’s violently fucking into your sopping cunt and you can’t help but give into it. Because he’s right. You’re going to cum again. “There we go, baby, just take it.”
“Fuck, it’s too much, y-you're too deep.” You cry, asking for a little bit of mercy that doesn’t seem likely to come your way.
“You’re dripping though.” His hot breath fans on your centre, free hand pressing into your belly, holding you hostage. “Literally ruining my sheets.”
His humiliating words do something to you, and unfortunately, he seems to notice the way you clench around his fingers, the way your back arches a little more. “Thought you didn’t like me being mean, baby.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Your voice comes out whiny, no threat laced in it whatsoever, and his laugh is sinister, openly mocking your desperate state, pushing you over the edge unexpectedly. “Fuck, I’m cumming.”
Your body tenses, chest heaving, walls clamping down on his fingers, forbidding any further movement, but his thumb is relentless, rubbing your poor clit through your high.
“Shit, baby.” He whispers, the sound barely reaching your buzzing ears. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you reach for anything that can pull back to the surface. Your nails dig into his arm, the one draped over your stomach and he quickly laces his fingers with yours, understanding what you need. “You’re good. I’ve got you.” He trails gentle kisses up and down your thigh, the action soothing, helping you back to a more coherent state.
“I fucking hate you.” You pant. No irritation in your tone, just defeat and deliriousness.
He chuckles against your skin, fingers slowly pulling out of your heat. “No, you don’t.”
Your hands instinctively caress his hair as he starts dragging your top up your torso, a kiss left on every newly uncovered inch of skin. You help him by sitting up a little, arms raising and then hands finding his face as soon as the garment is off, pulling him in for a slow kiss he so easily gives into. You can feel his grin, and it makes you chuckle softly against his lips but neither of you pulls away.
Within seconds, your back arches, making room for his hands as they unclasp your bra and once it’s gone, you eagerly wrap your arms around his neck, craving to feel his skin on yours, sighing at the way your sensitive nipples drag against his warm chest.
It’s quiet and loud at the same time. No words are exchanged as you intimately make out with him. It’s all heavy breathing, a whimper here and there, the rustling of his sheets, the wet sound of kissing, one of your phones’ buzzing as neither of you seems to care. It’s a soft moan of yours that breaks the silence, and then one of his as he slowly grinds his jean-clad cock into your tingling pussy, the material harsh on your hypersensitive clit.
His arms cage your head, supporting his weight as he makes room between your bodies for your hands, trembling fingers clumsily unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, your hands blindly shoving the material down, both of you to stubborn to pull away from the sloppy kiss you’ve trapped yourselves in.
“Mmh- just- fuck sake.” You mumble in his mouth and he lets out a small laugh as he reluctantly pushes off you to remove the rest of his clothes hastily. You smile at his erratic movements, relishing in the fact that he’s as needy as you are.
His mouth is back on yours within seconds, body finding home between your parted legs, fitting just perfectly and you breathe harshly when his cock prods at your entrance.
“Do we need a condom?” He murmurs breathlessly, eyes meeting as his face hovers just inches above yours. You find it cute how he remembers about protection now, when he’s already finished inside you before.
“You’re clean?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no.”
He nods with a shaky exhale, and you pull his face closer, not being able to stand any space between you. One arm sneaks around his neck, the other circles his shoulder blade, holding onto him as you prepare for the intrusion, craving the stinging sensation you felt last time he entered you.
His tip bumps your clit a few times as he rubs the length of his cock between your folds, coating himself in your arousal.
“So wet, baby.” It sounds pained and you’re slowly starting to lose any restraint that’s left in you.
“Please, fuck me.” You whine into the dip of his shoulder, hips twitching, raising to find friction.
The head of his cock kisses your entrance, and the second you start to feel the delicious pressure, he slips, finding your clit once again, making you inhale sharply. You’re so wet, it’s embarrassing.
“Shit, sorry.” He utters the rushed words as he looks down, between your bodies, one arm propping him above you.
“It’s okay, just try again.” You caress the back of his neck softly as you patiently wait for a stretch that doesn’t come. He’s still, breathing heavily as he looks down, forehead dropping to your shoulder and now you’re starting to get concerned.
“You okay?” You ask in confusion, as your hands reach for his face, but he hides in your neck.
“I’m- this is fucking embarrassing.” His body is trembling and you have no choice but to wrap your arms around him, still not understanding what he’s going on about.
“Jen, what’s wrong?”
Did he change his mind or something? Did he just realise he’s not that into you? Or did he just remember he’s got chlamydia?
“I’m actually freaking out. What is hap-
“I’ve gone soft.”
Oh.
“My dick is soft.” He rephrases, voice muffled in your neck and you try your best not to laugh at his pained tone, by hiding your face in his shoulder. Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh.
It's pointless. Inevitable. A snort escapes. He tenses.
“Are you fucking laughing?”
“No.” Your arms tighten around his shoulders, trapping him, or preventing him from seeing your pursed lips.
“I actually fucking hate you.” He exasperates, lips grazing your skin, but he lets his weight slump on you regardless. And you feel it. He really is soft.
“Are you nervous?” You’re not mocking, just asking genuinely as your thumb strokes his temple, nails gently scratching his scalp, trying to offer some comfort through his embarrassment.
“Why would I be nervous?” He defends quickly, stubbornness coating his voice.
“Chill. It’s just a question.”
“I’m not nervous.” He persists. He really is incapable of lying.
“You’re overthinking then.” You start tracing patterns on his shoulder with your free hand as his breathing becomes more stable.
“What’s there to overthink? It's sex.” He sighs as your toes tickle the back of his knee, foot slowly caressing his leg.
“Erectile dysfunction?” You joke and he huffs out a breath in annoyance, tickling your neck, goosebumps raising. You hum in thought, pretending to be in search of other reasons for his little mishap. He shivers as you lazily start scratching up and down his back, your other hand still in his hair, slightly tugging.
“Maybe you’re just not that into me then.” A smirk tugs on your lips as he playfully bites down on your shoulder.
“Yeah.” He nuzzles your jaw. “That must be it.” He starts kissing along the bone, his hand cradling the other side of your face, urging you to face him and he’s miserably failing to hold his smile back, just like you are. He cutely brushes his nose against yours and your brain malfunctions for a second. Never did you think Lee Jeno would be eskimo kissing you in bed right after he got a limp dick because he got too nervous.
But here you are.
“You know,” Your hand caresses his wrist as his hand buries in your hair. “You can be really cute sometimes.” Your lips find the tip of his nose, and he slightly flinches as the tender gesture, coaxing a giggle out of you that gets interrupted by his hand roughly pulling at your hair and you know your tactic to get him riled up is working.
Your whine is muffled by his lips, tongue forcing its way into your mouth like it’s his mission to shut you up and you revel in the dominance he asserts. A big hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing a little tighter than you expect, making you feel dizzy as his tongue claims your mouth in the filthiest way possible. Drool smears on your chin and the little twitch you feel on your belly forces a satisfied moan out of you.
“This cute enough for you?” He breathes into your mouth, his hips grinding with force, hardening cock sliding between your wet folds, cunt throbbing with need.
“Whatever cutie, just try not to go soft on me again.”
A sarcastic laugh tumbles out of him. “You trying to piss me off?”
“Yes.”
“I will literally fuck you into oblivion.” He mumbles in your ear, his teeth trapping the lobe between them before he starts trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck, hand moving to fondle one of your breasts, fingers harshly squeezing, claiming, making you mewl.
“Please, do.” You beg cutely, legs wrapping around his waist, heels pushing him into you more as your hips lift momentarily as you feel a new gush of arousal dripping out of you, smearing between your bodies. You just know it’s a mess down there.
Two of his fingers find your entrance, swirling through the wetness before he abruptly shoves them in to stretch you out again and before you have time to adjust, two become three, stretching your tight hole to the max. Your moans are unrecognisable, downright pornographic and you can’t imagine how good his cock is going to feel. You’re so horny, you feel like you’re going to pass out.
“Jen- oh fuck- please just put it in.” Your hands grab his face, forcing his eyes onto yours, showing him how blinded with desperation you are. You really want him. And he seems to share the same sentiment. His dilated pupils show you that much.
He kisses you stupid again, tongue tasting you hungrily as he fucks his fingers into you deep and slow a few more times and then emptiness. He kisses you harder when you whine in protest, but it’s the fat head of his cock prodding at your hole that really shuts you up and this time he doesn’t slip out. This time you feel the sting you so impatiently were craving.
Your walls flutter around him, but they welcome his thick length greedily, sucking him as he sinks in slowly.
“Oh my god.” He utters breathlessly as his pubic bone finds yours, hips grinding to help you both get used to the stimulation, mouth dropping open against yours as you bite down on his lip, not caring if your draw blood because it all just feels divine.
“Move.” You plead, letting your legs spread wide for him, your hands burying in his hair as you bring his lips to your again, needing him closer.
“Stop clenching so hard. Feels like you’re pushing me out.” He whispers softly, following up with a slow kiss, his hand caressing your thigh as he holds himself up on one forearm by your head, thumb stroking your temple gingerly and you instantly feel yourself relax a little.
“Sorry.” You murmur into the kiss, feeling him smile against you, your stomach doing that thing it always does when he does the most insignificant things.
He finally starts moving, slow and deep, cock stimulating every nerve ending in your walls and you’re so sensitive you feel every ridge, every vein, the slight curve of his length and the way he thrusts a little upwards doing wonders to that sweet spot deep inside you.
He leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek before letting his head drop, face burying in your neck, hot breaths hitting your skin deliciously as you both lose yourselves to the consuming pleasure. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, quiet moans filling the space of his room as his pace quickens slightly, the hand on your thigh slipping between you and the mattress, softly squeezing your ass cheek, keeping you in place, grounding you like you need him to.
“Fuck, baby.” The sweet petname, whispered in your ear, makes your pussy clench around him and he lets out a muffled grunt. His fingers squeeze the flesh of your ass a little harder and his hips start snapping against yours, wet slaps echoing as he fucks you with short and hard thrusts. “You like that?”
“Yes.” You sigh into his neck, nails clawing at his shoulder blades as you take what he’s giving you, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock starts abusing your g-spot, barely pulling out before fucking back into your needy cunt. You feel incredibly close and you’re almost shocked he’s managed to bring you this close to an orgasm so quickly, just with his cock. “Fuck- I’m s-sorry- I think I’m gonna cum.”
“I can feel you.” He moans and raises his head to look at you. “It’s okay, don’t say sorry. I want you to.” His hips maintain their perfect rhythm, stimulating the gummy spot inside you as well as your swollen clit. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, not being able to handle his intense stare and another moan from him is what send you over the edge. It’s intense, mind-consuming, your legs shake as he fucks you through it like he’s made for it, messily kissing you, groaning into your mouth as you violently squeeze his cock, walls almost pushing him out, but his thrusts unfaltering.
“Jesus.” He pants as you cry out, the pleasure now bordering overstimulation, but he doesn’t slow down. His back is drenched in sweat, your fingers slipping as they try to hold onto something and he immediately pins your hands above your head as he starts fucking you harder; bruising, animalistic thrusts melting your brain into mush.
“J-Jen, I’m- oh f- I can’t-
“Shhh. You can. It’ll feel good again.” His tongue finds yours in a kiss full of teeth and spit and you can barely focus on anything, too fucked out to function properly. You’re thankful you’re at least breathing. “You’re mine. Right, baby?”
Holy fuck. What is happening?
“I am?” You mumble against his lips, your heart going ballistic.
“You’re my girl, no?” He holds your arms pinned with one hand as the other cradles your jaw, eyes finding yours.
“Yes.” You breathe out pathetically.
“Say it.” He demands with a sharp thrust, balls slapping against your ass, your arousal coating your inner thighs as he grinds into you.
“I’m your girl.” The tip of his cock brushes your abused spot again, mind-numbing pleasure building again, like it never went away.
“Fuck yeah, you are.” He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking before releasing. “Mine.”
Your breathing is laboured as his hips resume their ministrations. Fucking you hard and fast towards another high that seems to come even quicker than the previous one. It’s like he’s forcing them out of you. And you know you’re going to be ruined for any other man after this. You really are his. He owns you. But you can’t say that. You refuse to admit it. Even as he’s balls deep in you, fucking you into oblivion, exactly like he promised.
“Are you mine?” It slips out before you can register the thought. You blame his dick.
He moans. It’s strangled and deep, his eyebrows tensing as he blinks quickly, as though trying to comprehend your words. It’s cute and hot at the same time. “Fuck- you know I am.”
“Tell me.” You whisper, short-breathed, nuzzling your nose with his, your foreheads almost touching and his eyes roll back when your walls flutter around him again. What a sight.
“I’m yours, baby.” He grunts as you purposely tighten around him and you didn’t think it was possible, but he fucks you harder, the sounds obscene, your back arching as he sits up, kneeling between you spread legs, pushing them up to your chest, fucking you so deep you have to brace your hands against the headboard, a loud cry leaving your throat. “All yours. All for my girl.”
“Oh my god.” You exhale harshly, nails digging into wood as his words send you into a frenzy. “Fuuuuck I’m gonna cum.” Your tone pleading and he can’t do anything other than oblige.
“Uh-huh, cum for me, baby.” He whispers, head hanging low as he lets a good amount of saliva dribble from his mouth onto where you’re both connected, and your broken moan echoes around the walls of his room when the digit quickly finds your swollen clit, all wet and slippery from arousal and spit. He flicks the nub in quick up and down motions as he tries to keep the same angle of his hips.
A particularly soft flick of his thumb is what makes your body seize, drowning you in obliterating pleasure as your pussy squeezes tight around him again, this orgasm even more intense than the previous one, if not the most intense one you’re ever had in your whole existence.
He pulls out with a grunt, hovering over you again, a deep kiss left on your lips before he continues down to your neck, sucking and licking, marking your sweaty skin, and you whimper weakly when his tongue finds a nipple, his big hands squishing your sensitive tits and you don’t have it in you anymore to deny him anything. He can do as he pleases.
“So pretty.” He mumbles, completely lost in his own little world that seems to be occupied only by your nipples and tits as he lathers them in his spit, licking and sucking like man starved.
Before you have time to regain your breathing, you’re on your front, face buried in his pillows as his hands grab onto your hips.
“Ass up for me, baby.” He helps you get on your knees, back arched, tits squished against his mattress. “Spread your legs.” He gently taps your outer thigh and you oblige with a whimper as he starts leaving wet kisses on one of your ass cheeks, hands kneading the flesh.
“What are you doing?” You mumble, slightly panicked as he gets closer and closer to your asshole.
You attempt to look back when no answer comes, but your head drops back down in defeat as his tongue licks a fat stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. The moan that erupts from your throat is broken, surprise evident as you tangle your fingers in his sheets.
“What the fuck.” You whisper, rushed words muffled by Jeno’s pillows. Your jaw slackens as his tongue languidly circles your sopping hole, dipping lightly, tasting you shamelessly and within seconds it travels back down to your clit, flicking it from side to side with the tip of his tongue, making your legs tremble, struggling to hold you up.
You’re a mess down there, you know it. The filthy sounds filling the room, prove that much. He’s sloppy with it; making out with your pussy like he’s thirsty, tongue everywhere, even slipping up to your other tight hole a few times, coating you in his spit wherever he can reach.
“Shit.” He rasps. “I could eat this pussy for days, baby.”
“Jen-”
“So perfect.” He mumbles in awe, his lips brushing your sensitive clit before wrapping around it, sucking harshly, tongue flicking in quick motions, driving you crazy, turning you into a blabbering mess, a hand reaching behind you to tangle in his hair, pulling desperately.
“Please fuck me. Want your cum in me.” You don’t even know where that filth came from, but you can’t bring yourself to care in the slightest. You think you might lose the plot if he doesn’t stick his cock in your aching pussy right this second.
Thankfully, your begging deems rewarding. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he repositions and the sound you make when he stuffs you to the brim in one motion, resembles a scream.
“Yeah? My girl wants my cum?” His voice barely reaches your ears over your loud moans as he starts thrusting into you in no time. Hard and fast. And you feel him in your fucking throat; the position allowing him to go deeper than anyone has before. His hands grab onto your waist, fucking you silly onto his cock, his balls slapping your poor clit deliciously and you’re positive you’re drooling onto his pillow.
“Oh, my fucking god. Right there.” You plead urgently as his tip nudges your g-spot for the umpteenth time tonight, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull, arms crossing over the small of your back, silently asking him to take complete control over your spent body.
“Shit, Y/N.” He pants, one hand taking hold of your wrists, the other grabs onto your shoulder, forcing you onto his cock, the wet slaps of his hips onto your ass turning you on beyond belief. You arch your back more, craving to feel him as deep as possible and his moan tells you he’s equally as affected. “You look so good like this.”
You twist your neck, looking over your shoulder, desperately searching for his eyes. You know you look destroyed, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you want him to see, want him to know what he’s done to you, that it’s all him.
The second his gaze meets yours, you know it’s game over for both of you. He looks unreal, sweat dripping from his temples down to his neck, chest glistening and heaving, abs flexing beautifully each time he thrusts forward. You know he can feel your walls tightening. His eyes closing momentarily, jaw clenching, his hold around your wrists becoming so deliciously painful, you hope it leaves a mark.
The hand on your shoulder slips in your hair, pulling, forcing you off the mattress as he leans forward, slotting your lips with his in a sloppy kiss. It’s full of tongue, saliva and need. You love it. You love everything he’s doing to you.
“You gonna cum one more time for me, yeah?” He whispers wetly against your lips, spit smearing on both your chins and you can’t help but nod dumbly. “Good girl.”
Your face is shoved in his pillow again and next thing you know, he’s fucking the living shit out of you, hand now at the base of your nape as his hold around your wrists doesn’t loosen.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me.”
It’s the primal, raw need in his voice along with the brush against your sweet spot that has you teetering over the edge again. It’s overwhelming. Your fists clench at the small of your back, legs shaking and weren't he holding you in place, you would have collapsed on the mattress limbless.
A tear escapes from the corner of your eye from the intensity, trickling down to the pillowcase and you thank the universe when you hear a deep grunt leaving his throat, signalling the beginning of his own orgasm.
“Shit, baby, I’m cumming.” His voice trembles and his hips stutter, sloppily thrusting until your feel warmth spreading inside your throbbing cunt, his hot release painting your walls white. He grinds into your ass, dragging both your highs until he lets out a whimper of overstimulation and you intentionally clench a couple of times, wanting to torture him for a little longer considering what he put your body through tonight. Not that you’re complaining, but the pathetic whine that escapes his throat, along with his hands grabbing your hips in urgency, is the best reward you could ask for now.
You accidentally let out a breathy chuckle that becomes louder when he lightly slaps your ass in warning. “Don’t be a brat.”
You mewl when he slowly pulls out and manhandles you onto your back. He leans down, seeking for your lips and he sighs when you meet him halfway, slotting your mouth with his on instinct as his body moulds with yours, his hand slipping his softening length back into your dripping hole with no warning, earning a yelp from you.
“Mmh, Jen-”
“Relax.” He mumbles into the kiss. “Just feels warm.” He whispers, and you can detect a tone of shyness. You can’t help but smile fondly at the side of him you’ve rarely seen.
“You’re weird.” You tease, still kissing him slowly.
“You’re annoying.” He retorts, leaving quick little kisses on your lips, moving onto your cheeks, then your nose, then returning to your lips with a chaste smooch that deems you helpless. Giggles and butterflies erupting.
“But you like me.” You sing playfully, dragging the sentence, hands squishing his cheeks to annoy him even more. He stares down at you for a moment, biting his bottom lip to contain a smile you can see anyway.
“But I like you.” He admits, blinking slowly and you can’t help but return the smile before leaning up to give him another sweet kiss.
Lee Jeno likes you and you like him too.
Who would have thought? Definitely not you.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
When you return from the bathroom, covered in the t-shirt he had on earlier, he is already under the covers, lying on his front. You’d be surprised if he wasn’t exhausted after all that. His bare back looks kissable and the back of his hair a mess and you can’t stop smiling giddily.
A ding averts your attention. It’s your phone, coming from your jeans lying on the floor messily. You pick up the piece of clothing as well as the rest of your scattered clothes, placing them somewhat neatly on his desk chair before retreating your phone from your back pocket and setting it on silent mode.
“Could you get mine too?” His groggy voice breaks through the silence as you scroll through any missed notifications.
“Sure.” You reach inside the pocket of his jeans and as you’re about to toss him the phone, he speaks again.
“Just turn my alarm off.” He mumbles in the pillow he’s got his face squished in. So cute.
You snort. “Why do you have an alarm set for Sunday?”
“I was gonna go gym, but wanna snooze with you. Is that alright?” He fires back, sarcastic even when he’s sleepy.
“I guess that’s alright.” You feign an exasperated sigh. “What’s your passcode?”
“Six-nine-six-nine.” He mutters indifferently and you snort again at the silly combination of numbers he’s chosen. Of course it’s sex related.
“Meaningful.”
“Just do it and come back to bed.” He huffs impatiently, which makes you giggle.
The delighted sound is cut short the second his phone unlocks. Two incriminating messages from that Yuna girl, and a few more from Haechan. You feel like you’re invading, but they’re right there for your eyes to read. And you instantly regret the whole night.
Yuna: where were u tonight
Yuna: thought we were meeting 🙁
Haechan: yuna is looking for you
Haechan: on the verge of telling her you’re busy clapping cheeks with stats girl
Haechan: she’s pissing me off
Haechan: just cut if off if you’re into y/n
Haechan: don’t be an idiot
You instantly like Haechan a little more and Jeno a little less. Did he really bring you to a party he was planning on meeting a side piece at?
What the actual fuck.
“Get back here.” Jeno grumbles sleepily from the bed, and you’re stuck between throwing the phone at his head and smashing it on the floor.
You do neither. You choose to stay calm for now. You’re too tired to cause a scene or have an argument.
“Coming.” You utter quietly, turning off his alarm before walking back to the bed.
You get under the covers without another word. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, not knowing what to really think. You turn the bedside lamp off, mainly because you want to hide your watering eyes and he instantly shuffles closer, his arm wrapping around you, pulling your back flush against his chest, his body curling into yours comfortably.
The kiss he leaves on your shoulder makes you close your eyes, refusing to shed tears right now. Grow up Y/N.
He lets out a sigh, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck.
“Night, baby.” He whispers softly, sounding already halfway to dreamland.
You knew this was too good to be true. But what are you supposed to do now?
“Night, Jen.”
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Jeno’s fist hurts from the loud banging on the door of your apartment.
Last night he went to sleep happy and content. Ecstatic at the thought of waking up next to you, spending the morning in bed with you. But when he woke up all alone and confused, all those positive feelings went down the drain. He feels enraged. Humiliated. But most of all, he feels something he hasn’t felt in a really long time. Something that until now, he hasn’t allowed himself to feel.
Hurt.
His chest physically hurt when he realised you weren’t in the bathroom or anywhere else in his place. He felt sick when he saw your clothes were not on his chair anymore and your shoes gone from his doorstep.
But then, when he checked his phone for any missed calls or texts from you, he realised what was going on. And he felt angry. Mostly with himself but also with you, because you chose to not trust him. Again. Because you chose to leave in silence. Because you chose to drop him instead of talking to him.
So, he’s here, banging on your door like a lunatic, running after you like he always is. Because he wants to fix this. Because he can’t let you go. He refuses to.
Because Jeno doesn’t just like you. He’s crazy about you. He wants you like he’s never wanted anybody else in his entire existence.
Because he’s a fool. A fool who’s undeniably in love with the girl he was just supposed to tutor and help pass a stupid stats class.
When the door opens, Mark appears.
“Where is she?” Jeno asks abruptly and Mark’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Um, hi?”
“Yeah. Hi. Where is she?” He repeats, not in the mood for small talk.
“I’m under strict instructions to not let you in.” Mark admits in a low tone. He looks scared.
Jeno walks close to the boy, putting on a fake smile and Mark’s eyes go wide as he takes a step back in fear.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair?” Jeno speaks slowly in a sweet tone, hand raising to squeeze Mark’s shoulder in warning.
“No sir.”
“Good. Tell me where she is.”
“But I-”
“Mark.” Tone devoid of any emotion now. Cold as ice. Mark gulps loudly. “I will genuinely beat the living shit out of you.”
“She’s in the shower.” Mark steps aside obediently, giving Jeno space to enter the apartment. “You can wait in her room.”
Jeno smiles and gently pats Mark on the cheek. “Good boy.”
As he walks down the hall towards your room, Jeno hears Giselle scolding poor Mark, who just whines quietly. Something along the lines of ‘you try then’ and a defeated sigh.
Jeno feels bad for speaking to Mark like that, but he had to do what he had to do. He’ll apologise later. All he really cares about now is you.
He takes a seat at the foot of your made bed and his mind drifts to that night he found you lying in his bed. All sad and alone. He remembers how upset you were about your ex and hates to think that he’s now just another guy who’s hurt you. Because that’s the last thing Jeno wants to do. All he wants is to be with you.
He knows he’s not easy to trust and he knows you have trust issues. You’ve never talked about it, but you don’t have to; he can tell. And he doesn’t care. He’ll do whatever it takes to gain your trust, but he needs you to want him to try. He needs you to listen to what he has to say.
“Was me leaving without a word not enough of a statement?” Your irritated voice interrupts his messy thoughts and Jeno shoots up to his feet.
Here you are, shutting your door closed and leaning against it. Your hair is wet from the shower you’ve clearly just had and you’re dressed in a baggy t-shirt and cute pyjama bottoms with sushi rolls on them. Under normal circumstances his first thought would have been damn, she’s cute but right now all he can see are your red glossy eyes. You’ve been crying. Because of him.
“Why can’t you ever just talk to me when something’s wrong?” His question comes out more accusatory than he intends and he already hates himself for not being able to keep calm.
“What’s the point?” You say weakly, chin quivering, lips pursing as you look at anywhere but him, blinking your tears away and Jeno can’t stand seeing you like this. He just wants to hug you. Keep you safe in his chest.
“Y/N.” He says sternly, walking closer to you and before you can escape, he’s got your face in his hands, thumb wiping away the single tear that’s escaped. “Baby, look at me.”
“Jen, just-”
“Hey, no. Look at me.” He cups your cheeks, even as you attempt to turn away from him. You give in with a defeated sigh. “Those texts you saw. They mean nothing. I swear-”
“I can fucking read.” You interrupt him, voice not so weak now. “She thought you were meeting her.”
“I agreed to that ages ago. I didn’t even remember, I fucking swear! It was before we-” He sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself. “Look. I meant what I said last night. Yes, it was during sex but I really did fucking mean it.”
You blink once.
“You’re my girl.” He steps closer, the sweet smell of your shampoo taking over his senses for a second, but he focuses again. “You’re the only one. I want you. Just you. I’m so- I promise you- I haven’t been with anyone else since that first time. I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.”
“Why?” You whisper, eyes wide.
“Because. You’re you. And you’re perfect for me. And I can barely think when you’re around. And I’m literally about to have a heart attack right now.” He grabs your hand and places it on his chest, and he knows you can feel his insane heartbeat when your breath hitches. “You’re so fucking annoying. And I’m crazy about you.”
There. He said it.
You sniffle and before he can say anything else, your arms wrap around his waist, face burying in his heaving chest.
“You have to believe me.” He’s close to begging now, breathing unstable, but he holds you close anyway, arms circling around your shoulders, nose nuzzling in your wet hair.
“I believe you.” You whisper in his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”
“Don’t apologise.” He cuts you off. “I’m the one who fucked up. I should’ve-”
“It’s fine.” You butt in, and he smiles at how you’re both just communicating in unfinished sentences without failing to understand one another.
“So, what now?” He tries tentatively, unsure of how to approach anything at this point. He just wants things between you to be okay.
“I’m tired.” You mumble weakly, and he feels guilt wash over him. You probably didn’t get much sleep last night, while he cluelessly dozed off so quickly.
“Wanna take a nap?” He suggests as his fingers thread through your hair, trying to help you relax.
“Will you stay?” You look up at him with soft eyes, still wet from crying and there goes his aching heart again.
“Of course, baby.” His palms tenderly cradle your face again and he melts when you stand on your tippy toes. He quickly gives into you, head dipping down slightly to give you the kiss you’re silently asking for.
It’s soft and sweet. You taste like you and toothpaste, and he has to pull away before the innocent kiss escalates into something else. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”
Once you’re both under your cosy blanket, he lets you rest your head on his chest, arm around your shoulders, one hand stroking your hair, the other tangled with yours, holding them close to his chest, over his now steady heartbeat. Your breathing gradually slows down and when he’s sure you’re asleep, he takes his phone out of his pocket, quickly unlocking it and opening his chat with Yuna. He sends the text without even thinking it over and sighs as he sets his phone down on your bedside table.
He smiles as he inhales your familiar scent, his eyes closing in contentment as he keeps repeating the words he just typed out, in his head. Particularly the second sentence.
Can’t see you anymore. I have a girlfriend.
And yeah, he's yet to ask you properly, but at the end of the day, you’re his girl. And it can’t get any deeper than that.
pairing ↠ dilf!jaehyun x (f) reader (ft. bf!jaemin)
genre .. warnings ↠ smut, age gap (18+), unprotected sex, stepcest, underaged drinking, toxic relationship, reader is barely 18, this is like extremely gross don’t say you weren’t warned
summary ↠ jaehyun has been your stepdad since you were maybe thirteen or fourteen. at first, you didn’t want anything to do with him - not to go to his and your mom’s wedding, not to move to his state, and definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself that all men were the same. but jaehyun was nothing like the father that had abandoned you at the worst possible time and left you to deal with your emotionally unavailable mother. he was kind, sweet, caring. and as you grow older, you find yourself falling for the one person you should never, under any circumstances, want.
wc ↠ 20k
a/n ↠ my first real fic all year 🥹 as always, feedback is appreciated!
don’t like it, don’t read.
for as long as you could remember, you had never been particularly fond of your boyfriend’s friends.
they were outright obnoxious, and even that was you being kind and considerate. their voices boomed loudly and their laughter rang out, and the demeaning remarks they made too often to be mere jokes always made you a little uncomfortable.
though they knew better than to make any lewd comments about you, at least. most of them were about a pretty girl wandering the party, or their girlfriend of the week. but you weren’t dumb. you saw the way they looked at you every now and then, judging you. scorning you. tearing you apart.
no comments were spoken squarely to your face, but you knew they were conjured. it made you wonder what they said to jaemin when you weren’t there on his lap, and you wondered if he chimed along.
thick clouds of smoke loomed in the stuffy air, making it difficult to breathe. you coughed into your fist, feeling your throat itch. honest to god, you had absolutely no clue how they smoked that shit. the one time jaemin had coaxed you into putting a joint to your mouth, you had thought you were dying.
haechan said something that abruptly made the group of boys burst into laughter. you jolted, lifting your head from jaemin’s shoulder. he tightened his arm, which was looped around your back, holding you against him. “jaem?” you whispered.
“hm?”
you were reluctant to say anything, knowing how he would likely respond, but you didn’t want to be here anymore. “can we go somewhere else?”
jaemin exhaled through his nose. you knew he didn’t want to leave. to him, these nights with his friends were harmless little exploits that made his life a little easier.
it didn’t help that he was already annoyed with you. when he swung by earlier to pick you up, he looked you up and down, and the first thing to leave his mouth was a disgruntled, “why do you always dress so childishly?”
you had never thought of your bright colors and cute patterns as inherently childish. matter of fact, the cute, brown top with stitched teddy bears you were wearing was one of your favorite shirts.
“why do you want to leave?” jaemin asked softly, gently rubbing your back in hopes of soothing you.
“it’s too noisy,” you complained, peering up at him.
jaemin could have rolled his eyes. fuck’s sake, it was a party. obviously, it wasn’t going to sound like a prayer hall. “if you smoked a little, it wouldn’t bother you.”
“i don’t like smoking.”
“that’s because you’re not used to it, baby,” jaemin reasoned.
“i don’t want to get used to it,” you mumbled. “you guys all pass around the same joint. you’ve basically kissed each other. which means that when you kiss me, i’m kissing all of them.”
jaemin groaned, “you’re so dramatic, you know that, sweetheart? it’s just a joint.”
“can you please just take me home?” you pleaded. between the rings of smoke hanging over you and the resounding thud of music and the cacophony of loud voices, you felt like you were suffocating.
jaemin was silent for a few moments, jaw tight. something tightened in your chest, recognizing the look on his face as something angry. before you could change your mind, jaemin pushed you off his lap, watching you scramble onto your feet, and spoke, “gonna call it a night early, gang. my special princess over here is too good to hang with us.”
mark groaned. haechan rolled his eyes. jeno snickered, not so discreetly looking at your legs, and said, “bye, princess.”
jaemin flipped him off and guided you away, murmuring, “come on, baby.” his hand was on the small of your back.
the two of you pushed past the bundle of people partying in the main room, which was easier with your tall, respected boyfriend in tow. your shoulders relaxed when you were outside. you were happy to be breathing in the fresh air rather than smoking and doing whatever else people could get their hands on.
jaemin opened the door on the passenger side of his car, letting you climb inside. by the time you were on the road, his hand was on your thigh.
you didn’t mind that. jaemin was a very touchy boyfriend and he always had his hands all over you. the attention was something you needed, something you craved. it was just safe enough to make you feel wanted within the boundaries of your control.
but then, after maybe ten or fifteen minutes, his hand started to move. you tore your gaze from the window down to the motion on your lap, stomach churning as you sensed his hands slipping further and further. then, your eyes went up to his face. his eyes were on the road, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
everyone was nervous about losing their virginity. everyone was scared of firsts. but for you, it was a little more than that. you weren’t scared of what happened during the act; you were terrified of what came after.
would jaemin still want you after you gave him what he’d been coveting? would he come back for more? could you meet his expectations, compare to the fantasies he’d crafted in his mind and had been hoping to enact?
you couldn’t know for sure. once you gave him what he wanted, you had nothing to keep him around anymore; nothing to rein him back in after the night was over. and the last thing you wanted was to be alone again. it had been okay, the ice, the nip, when it was all you’d ever known, but now that you had known how it felt to be warm, you didn’t want to remember how it felt to freeze.
“jaemin,” you called out softly. “what are you doing?”
“nothing, baby,” jaemin lied sweetly, feigning innocence. all the while, his hand was continuing to move up your leg. slowly, but surely.
when he got too close, you decided that you were more than a little uncomfortable and gingerly pushed his hand away, as if not to upset him. “babe, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”
jaemin forced a smile, and somehow, that was more unnerving than if he had screamed at you, exasperated. “goddamn it, woman,” he murmured. “you already dragged me away from my friends. the least you could do is make it worth it.”
you swallowed, guilt hitting you like a punch in the chest. but the anxious stirring in your stomach was a thousand times worse, a million times louder, and potent tenfold. “i’m sorry,” was all you could bring yourself to say.
jaemin scoffed, refusing to look at you. which was probably not so bad, all things considered. “yeah, you should be,” he grumbled.
your eyes watered, but you looked out the window and tried to think of happier, kinder times. you didn’t want to cry, not until you were alone where no one could see. you hated crying in front of others. it was embarrassing. to say nothing of the fact that whenever jaemin reduced you to tears, he called you a crybaby, and he’d already made you feel childish enough.
the rest of the drive home was silent, save for the sound of the wind blowing through your hair and the occasional honking; your only refuge in the midst of your struggle to be the perfect girlfriend. the cool night breeze calmed you, soothed you, and traffic felt familiar. it was oddly comforting, being stuck between two things with nowhere to go.
a feeling you knew all too well.
the only downside was that the longer you stayed there, hardly moving, the longer you had to pretend everything was okay and try desperately not to sob.
it felt like forever before you were finally back home. you immediately got out of the car, having assumed that jaemin wanted nothing more to do with you right now.
to your surprise, he sighed and willed himself to get out of the car, walking you to your front door.
you peered up at him, trying to read his face, trying to understand where he was at and where you had pushed him. “are you mad at me?” you asked timidly, as if you didn’t truly want to know the answer.
jaemin took his time to answer, exhaling quietly. “no, baby,” he said after a moment. “i’m not mad. but you can’t avoid sex forever, you know. that’s what people do. it’s natural.”
he said it so outrightly, so bluntly. as if it was really, truly just another thing that everyone did, that had no risk and no consequence. you admired his fearlessness sometimes, wondering how his life had unfolded for him to be so bold, and realized you knew very little about him. “i know,” you whispered.
jaemin reached for your hand, tenderly brushing his fingers over your knuckles. “but?”
you released a shaky breath. jaemin understood you, some ways better than others. he may have been completely clueless in some regards, but your body language was not one. shy, you confessed, “but i’m scared.”
“why are you scared?” jaemin asked, keeping his voice soft and level. “do you not trust me, sweetheart?”
“no, i do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not. “but what if it’s not what you’re expecting?”
jaemin chuckled, as if that was absurd. “baby, relax,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “you could never disappoint me.”
your eyes got a little wider, a little starrier, watching him as if he was your whole world. “are you sure?”
“yeah, i’m sure, baby,” he told you, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “goodnight, sweetheart.”
“goodnight,” you whispered, watching him slowly start to back away. “text me when you get home.”
jaemin bobbed his head in acknowledgment and started to walk back to his car.
you unlocked the front door of your house, hoping to god your mother wasn’t somewhere lounging around or smoking. your stepfather didn’t enjoy when she smoked inside the house, but he was gone for the weekend. which, to her, meant his rules didn’t matter.
there was no sight of your mother when you walked into the house. but you blinked in surprise when you saw your stepfather’s favorite coat hanging on the rack in the foyer. you didn’t know people actually had those until you moved in with him.
jaehyun was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his shoulders, drinking coffee out of a mug you’d designed for his birthday when you were roughly fourteen. it was stupid and kind of ugly, but the fact that he still drank from it, even after four years, warmed your heart.
“daddy?” you called, stunned. you weren’t expecting him to be here for another day.
“hey, doll,” jaehyun greeted, setting down his mug for a second. “you look surprised.”
you nodded your head. compared to what you heard in endless amounts of fiction, jaehyun didn’t go on many business trips. one a month, usually, for less than three days. “i thought you were coming back tomorrow?”
“we were able to wrap things up early,” jaehyun explained briefly. he didn’t like to bore you with the details of his job, though you often asked him about it, which was somewhat endearing.
“oh,” you mumbled. you tried not to show how happy you were. most times when you were alone here with your mother, you tried to go out as much as you possibly could, which was the only reason you had agreed to hang out with jaemin and his friends tonight.
“yeah.” jaehyun’s eyes flitted over your body, making you feel a little self-conscious. he would habitually remember to pick up his mug and wince at how hot his coffee was. “you look cute.”
you blinked. jaehyun always complimented the way you dressed, often reminding you how cute and beautiful you were. you wished your boyfriend was more like that. “thanks,” you replied, coming over to hug him.
jaehyun set his mug down again and threw his arms around you, gentle as ever. but he smelled something on you that he didn’t exactly love. “you went out with that boy again, didn’t you?”
“how did you know?”
“you smell like weed,” he answered bluntly.
your cheeks burned. the smell had followed you home, clinging to you. you didn’t notice it on yourself, but you knew how much he hated it. “i didn’t smoke,” you told him. “i was just next to them.”
jaehyun chuckled. he knew that. you hated the mere smell of smoke, always scrunching up your face whenever it stuck to your mother or whatever spot she’d chosen to get high at. “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, doll. i know you.”
you nodded, even more embarrassed. reluctantly, you pulled away and sat on the barstool next to him. it was late and you were kind of sleepy, exhausted of having to try so hard, but you wanted to talk to him.
ironically, it was silent for a moment as jaehyun sipped his coffee and you tried to think of what to say. jaehyun spoke first, mentioning offhandedly, “i don’t like your boyfriend.”
you sighed, resting your head against the island. “i don’t really like him, either.”
that threw jaehyun off. “so why are you still dating him?”
“i don’t know,” you huffed.
jaehyun’s eyes were fixed on you, wanting to get to the bottom of it and willing to confront the issue that you weren’t. you had no business staying in a relationship you weren’t content with. “is he threatening you?” he asked.
your shot up, eyes widening. “no, he’s not making me date him.”
if anything, that only served to make jaehyun even more alarmed, and he pressed, “what is he making you do?”
“he’s not making me do anything,” you replied quietly, knowing that wasn’t the best way to put it. “it’s just that… he wants to have sex.”
“and you don’t?” jaehyun finished for you. the topic didn’t make him feel awkward or uncomfortable, even if you were, by law, his daughter. he was the one person in the world you could talk to about anything and everything without fear, and he took great pride in that.
you shrugged, repeating, “i don’t know.”
“well, you gotta know something, baby,” jaehyun teased. “do you, or do not you?”
ignoring the way the pet name made you feel, you tried to think about it, hard. “i mean, he’s cute. and he’s nice enough most of the time,” you murmured, engrossed in thought. “but i guess i don’t really trust him that much yet. and i don’t want to give my body to someone i don’t trust.”
jaehyun hummed in understanding. “you know that’s not a bad thing, right?”
you sighed, shoulders slumped. “i guess.”
jaehyun placed his hand on your cheek, his touch feather light, as if you had a fragile warning on your forehead. “you can do so much better than him,” he whispered. “i know you’re going to do whatever you want at the end of the day, but as your father, i’m going to look out for you.”
but could you do any better? jaemin was your first boyfriend in years. maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was better than all the failed talking stages you’d been through. if you held onto the good memories, the ones like only a moment ago where he held you tenderly and touched you with affection, you could bear the hurt.
but there was nothing like that with jaehyun. the way he touched you now, his hand on your face, was something you could always expect. “thank you for that.”
jaehyun shook his head. “you don’t need to thank me. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”
no, you have no obligation to do that, you thought to yourself, bemused. for nearly five years, he had been going above and beyond for you, treating you as if you were his very own daughter. you couldn’t understand it.
but you appreciated it. you appreciated everything. the way he reminded you how beautiful you were, the way he spent time with you even when he was exhausted, the way he listened to your problems and told you everything was going to be okay. without him, you would be so much more broken.
but you didn’t let your thoughts wander there. it was too much suppressed pain that you weren’t ready to uncover. “daddy, are you tired?”
jaehyun shrugged. “not really. i probably won’t go to sleep until around two. why?”
“do you want to watch a scary movie with me?” you asked, hopeful. yearnful.
jaehyun could see it in your eyes. he had learned to become very good at reading you after so long, though you’d always worn your emotions on your face. especially when you were thinking. it was very hard for you to lie. chuckling at the thought, he replied, “why not?”
you smiled, removing his hand from your face to slip your fingers through his as you hopped off the barstool, and led him to the living room.
the two of you settled on a nightmare on elm street and you went on to complain about how much you disliked eighties horror, much to jaehyun’s amusement. he tried to remind you that the technology and equipment available decades ago wasn’t the same as in the current age, but you didn’t budge.
apparently, you found the movie so boring that you fell asleep watching young johnny depp get devoured by a mattress. your head was on jaehyun’s shoulder, the couch blanket draped over you as you snored softly.
when you woke up, you were in your bed, cocooned inside your comforter instead and surrounded by stuffed dolls as birds chirped outside your window and the morning breeze whistled through the air.
none of which you had time to enjoy or even perceive, because the thing that had jolted you awake was the sound of a fist banging against your bedroom door. you groaned and willed yourself to climb out of bed, grumbling something underneath your breath, and threw the door open exasperatedly.
your mother was standing there in her robe, eyes red. “why didn’t you wash dishes?”
you fought a groan. that was the first thing to come out of her mouth? really? “wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” you said groggily.
clearly, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. “i don’t want to wake up to a dirty kitchen. we’ve been over this.”
you could have rolled your eyes at that. then, clean it up yourself, you retorted in your head. it wasn’t like you had made the mess. “you cooked while i wasn’t here and i didn’t have any.” i didn’t think i needed to clean up after you.
“that doesn’t mean shit,” she snapped. “you don’t have a job, you don’t do anything around the house. you need to take some responsibility.”
with that, your mother turned and walked away.
you closed the door and exhaled through your nose, trying to calm yourself. you had been awake for less than five minutes and she had already managed to piss you off.
and over the most ridiculous thing. it couldn’t have been that hard to clean up after herself instead of trying to make it your problem. maybe you didn’t have a job, but she didn’t either. and the only reason you apparently didn’t do anything around the house was because you never did anything to destroy it in the first place.
and because you very rarely left your room when your mother was there. something about her presence left you on edge. there were many times you went hungry just because you didn’t want to pass her in the living room on the way to the kitchen for a snack. for as long as you could remember, the familiar sound of her bracelets rattling and her sandals tapping the floor had made your heart race.
in the middle of trying to undo your frustration, you thought of something. you had woken up in bed, even though you’d most definitely fallen asleep on the couch with jaehyun, and you had no memory of making the journey upstairs.
which meant he’d carried you.
your heart fluttered. something about that thought - the thought of a bigger, stronger man carrying you - did unspeakable damage to your brain. you knew he was your stepfather, knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but picture what else he could do with all that strength.
it was also worth mentioning that you were very vulnerable when you were just lying there innocently, asleep. he could have done anything to you if he wanted. if only he had wanted it.
almost the whole day had passed when, to your surprise, you had gotten a text from jaemin inviting you to hang out with him again. you had assumed he’d want time to himself after last night. but you wasted no time in getting ready, doing something different with your usually dolly makeup, and putting on a miniskirt to seem a little more mature.
you had been close to walking out of the front door, hurriedly walking past jaehyun and your mother who were sitting in the living room, until you heard your mother say, “come back. now.”
you slowly grinded to a halt, muttering annoyances to yourself, and forced a smile as you spun on your feet. “yes, mother dearest?”
“where the hell are you going at this time of night looking like a whore?” she asked, snappy.
you tried to take that in stride, but it was hard. she never failed to hurt your feelings.
your mother didn’t even give you the opportunity to respond before she demanded, “take that off.”
you stood your ground. “no.”
your mother looked at you like she wanted to lunge at you. ever since you had turned eighteen, which wasn’t even that long ago, you had gotten bolder. “if you leave wearing that, you’re just begging for it. don’t come crying to me if something happens.”
your eyes stung. how could she say something like that?
jaehyun made a face and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to stop her before she went too far. “doll,” he said to you, taking over. “i know you’re an adult now, but we still want you to be safe. i don’t know where you’re going, but i don’t trust this world enough to honor that wish. can you change, please? for me?”
switching on a dime, you replied meekly, “okay, daddy,” and went back upstairs to change your skirt.
your mother gawked in disbelief. then her expression flashed to anger. “why does she listen to you and not to me?”
“you called her a whore,” jaehyun replied, unsurprised. “i wouldn’t have listened, either.”
“i said she looked like one.”
jaehyun sighed. “that doesn’t make it any better. you know she’s sensitive. either way, you shouldn’t have said that.”
your mother said nothing, sulking. in her mind, it didn’t matter the delivery. she was your mother and she didn’t enjoy being disrespected.
the skirt you changed into was a little longer, at the least halfway down your thighs. you had been quick to change, grateful your bed was still littered in pile of skirts you’d handpicked (and would unfortunately have to clean later), and rushed outside to slide into the passenger seat of jaemin’s car.
the party he took you to tonight was better than the last one, at least. there were probably still people smoking and partying hard, but jaemin had you in the kitchen, where thankfully few people were.
jaemin handed you one of two red plastic cups with some kind of liquid in them. “here you go, baby.”
though you accepted the cup, you looked at it with scrunched brows, then back up at him. “what is this?”
“a mix of things,” jaemin replied with extreme vagueness. “just try it, sweetheart.”
you didn’t question him, just turning the cup up like it was juice, which you quickly realized couldn’t have been further from the truth. you grimaced, ears and throat burning, and put a hand on your chest. “what the fuck?”
jaemin furrowed his brows, feigning innocence. “you don’t like it?”
you shook your head. you’d had alcohol before, a few times when you were maybe fifteen and had sneakily took a shot of tequila from your mom’s pantry, but you had grown out of that. plus, you were still underaged in terms of drinking. “no, it burns,” you complained. “i’m not supposed to drink anyway.”
“you have such a stick up your ass,” jaemin teased, taking the cup from you and throwing back a gulp like it was nothing. he was only a year older than you, nineteen, and had no business drinking, either.
you shook your head in disapproval, though you knew it probably wasn’t much worse than him smoking.
“here,” he said, giving you the other cup he had been holding. this one was clear. “try this one. i think you’ll like it.”
you were reluctant, considering how much you disliked the first one he’d given you, but with how expectantly he was looking at you, you grabbed the cup and took a tentative taste. your eyes widened. it tasted like juice.
jaemin chuckled at your reaction. “good, right?”
you nodded, taking another sip. which became another, and another, until your head started to feel a little woozy. by the time you started to recognize it, you were already more than tipsy.
jaemin hoisted you into his arms like it was nothing and sat you atop the counter, draping his hands over your exposed thighs. “you look so pretty today,” jaemin mused aloud, admiring your skirt. “you get all cute for me?”
“yeah,” you murmured, eyes fluttering. it was all you could do to keep them open and suddenly, you wanted to go to bed.
“sleepy drunk, aren’t you?” jaemin asked, moving his hands to your waist to keep you upright. “jeno’s room is upstairs. wanna go to bed, baby?”
you did, but certainly not here. you were drunk, not stupid. with you and him alone in a closed bedroom, there was no telling what all he would and wouldn’t do. and the fact that it belonged to jeno only strengthened your hesitation.
“no, it’s okay,” you told him, shaking your head softly. you gingerly pushed yourself off the counter and onto your feet. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
jaemin grabbed your hand, not wanting to let you loose just yet. “let me help you.”
“it’s okay,” you repeated, brushing him off. your heart thudded, nervous. “stay here.”
jaemin begrudgingly let you go, watching you disappear in the crowd with his jaw set. you just always managed to evade him, didn’t you?
you stumbled a little at first, but found your balance, making your way through the flock of other drunk partygoers. you gripped the railing for dear life as you climbed up the stairs, searching for the bathroom.
it was by the grace of god that you were able to find it and lock yourself inside without walking in on a couple trying to touch and feel on each other. you sighed in relief, digging around your bag for your phone. you had to get out of here, now.
with two incorrect attempts, you were able to enter your password and immediately went to your contacts, dialing the one person you knew you needed at a time like this. the one person who you could trust would be there for you no matter what.
jaehyun picked up on the second ring, answering, “hello?”
“daddy?”
even if it was only one word, jaehyun could hear in your tone that something wasn’t right. “yes, doll? is something wrong?”
“i think i messed up,” you murmured, grabbing onto the sink counter to stabilize yourself.
jaehyun’s brows stitched with worry, even if you couldn’t see. “what did you do? are you okay? are you hurt?”
“i don’t feel so good right now,” you replied, feeling drowsy. “i drank and i shouldn’t have, and… can you just come pick me up? please.”
you heard shuffling in the background, like he was already moving. “send me your location.”
fifteen minutes later, give or take, jaehyun called you and told you that he was outside.
you grabbed your phone and unlocked the bathroom door, heading straight for the stairs and making a beeline for the front door, wanting to leave before jaemin could spot you and do more damage. the second you saw your stepfather’s car, you hurried over, nearly tripping over your own legs.
thankfully, you were able to get inside his car without any problems, shutting the door and dragging the seatbelt over you.
jaehyun glanced at you, relieved to see that you were in one piece, but still worried. “are you okay?”
you nodded your head, sighing in relief just as the seatbelt clicked. “i’m okay,” you said, quiet. “thank you.”
jaehyun knew he should have been scolding you for drinking when you were only eighteen, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the moment. “why were you drinking?” he asked softly.
you swallowed, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer, but you had to be honest. “jaemin gave me a cup and told me to try it.”
jaehyun exhaled, starting the car. if you were going to talk about jaemin, it was best that he was far, far away from wherever he was. “he’s no good for you, you know that?”
you turned away and looked out the window, eyes watering.
jaehyun glanced over for a split second and reached out with his right hand, his left one gripping the wheel. “i don’t mean to make you cry, baby. but you know i’ll never lie to you.”
“i know,” you whispered, trying to fight the tears. god, you hated how you couldn’t control them, how they fell at any minor inconvenience and there was nothing you could do to stop them.
he would never understand; no one could. the reason you went back to jaemin even though you knew in your heart of hearts that he was just another boy that would never love you. hell, you hardly understood yourself. it was fair, considering you couldn’t say that you loved him either, but you felt something.
and it was this unidentified something that kept you tied to him like a knot rather than severing the bond. you didn’t love him, no, you hardly trusted him, but you liked him enough. he was your second best.
though jaehyun’s eyes were on the road, he still had a tender hand on yours, squeezing it firmly. “why do you keep hurting yourself like this, doll? you’re too smart to be fooling around with boys like that.”
“he’s all i have,” you said, your voice feeble.
jaehyun’s brows furrowed, confused. “that’s not true. you have me, you have your mom, and you have tons of friends and family that love you. what makes you feel like he’s all you have?”
family i feel disconnected from, friends i only show half of myself to, and an emotionally unavailable mother who wants to control my whole life, you thought with a resentment you had been nursing for years.
you swallowed it down, even though it was bitter and lingered on your tongue, and answered softly, “because sometimes, when he’s not angry, when he’s not smoking or drinking or trying to hook up, when he’s listening to me and looking at me like i mean something to him, i get to feel like he loves me.”
jaehyun didn’t skip a beat. “and how many times is that, baby?”
that hit you like the ceiling crashing down on your chest. all your life, you had just wanted somebody to love you. you had just wanted to feel like you mattered to someone and you had gone through great lengths just to hear it from another person’s mouth. you had always tried.
the only person in the world you never had to try with was your stepfather. the man had gone out of his way, since you were thirteen years old, to treat you like his own. at first, you had wanted nothing to do with him - not to go to his and your mother’s wedding, not to move to his state, and most definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself from a young age that all men were the same.
but jaehyun was nothing like the father that had abandoned you just when you needed him most and left you to deal with your mother who was incapable of expressing any affection to you in a normal, healthy manner. jaehyun was kind, sweet, loving. he was patient with you, spent quality time with you, spoiled you with gifts and listened to your problems.
all things your father did when you were a little girl, when everything had been okay, once upon a time.
it was only natural that you found yourself gravitating towards him more often than not, wanting to be around him, wanting to hear his voice, wanting to hold him and spend every waking moment with him. and it was only even more natural that eventually, your heart began to flutter around him.
but you suppressed it, because you weren’t that dumb. you knew there were no chances of him reciprocating your feelings, not when he loved you with the love of a father. but the nipping void inside you was still there, and it had never felt more empty.
you knew it would be a bad idea to look at jaehyun, so you kept your eyes fixed on the gleaming towers and lights shimmering on the water as he crossed a bridge. “i know it doesn’t make sense,” you willed yourself to respond. “it doesn’t make sense to me, either.”
for a moment, jaehyun was silent. he may not have understood, but he wanted to deliver his words in the right way. in the end, he chose compassion. “feelings don’t always make sense, especially not right away, and especially not when you’re young and experiencing them for the first time. but that doesn’t mean you have to let them control you.”
arms crossed, you grumbled, “easier said than done.”
“i know it is, doll,” jaehyun whispered. “i know it is.”
something in his tone made you finally turn to face him. your eyes glimmered and you begged, “please, don’t tell mom.”
jaehyun looked conflicted, like he was weighing his options, but he knew what the most effective choice would be. “i won’t, but you can’t keep doing stuff like this, kiddo. it worries me.”
if there was anything you hated, it was that pet name. “i’m not a kid. i’m eighteen.”
“and thirty days,” jaehyun added dryly.
he said that like it meant something. you retorted, “what, are you keeping track?”
“i’m just good at quick math.”
you scoffed. it was probably true, considering all the things you saw him calculating when it came to complicated business things you never understood, but that didn’t make it any better. “okay. how old are you?” you asked knowingly.
“thirty-nine.”
“what’s thirty-nine minus eighteen?”
“twenty-one,” jaehyun answered without any forethought.
more than twice my age. you knew that. not that it was hard to figure out, but that wasn’t the point. at some point, you had become obsessed with those numbers, crafting a delicate list of reasons why it could never work with your stepfather. the age gap, the marriage, the this and the that.
but on the other hand, none of those things really mattered to you. you may have still been young, but you were an adult now. a legal adult.
“besides,” jaehyun continued, seemingly unaware of where your mind had wandered. “i’ll always worry about you, no matter how old you are.”
your heart did exactly what you didn’t want it to do, what you had been trying to fight against for god knows how long now; it soared.
if you weren’t regretting your night enough already, you definitely were by the time you went inside the house, realizing everything you had to do before you dropped into bed. “god, i have to shower and take off my makeup,” you grumbled, walking with a stammer.
jaehyun kicked his shoes off by the door and grabbed your hand, lest you fell and hurt yourself. “i’ll help you.”
your eyes flickered in surprise. “you don’t have to do that.”
“it’s okay,” jaehyun replied, already steering you upstairs. “you need some guidance.”
you didn’t know what he meant by that, or maybe you did and you were simply in denial, but you didn’t ask.
sitting you atop the counter in your bathroom, jaehyun picked out the pack of makeup wipes that were already sitting there and gently began to wipe your face, pushing a stray braid behind your ear. he seemed focused, eyes squinting and his thicks brows furrowing.
you were focused too, watching him intently the entire time. it was difficult to ignore the way your heart raced when he got so close, the way your body seared with heat when he touched your cheek. it wasn’t necessarily even affectionately, which only served to make you more disappointed in yourself.
but sometimes, when you were staring hard enough, much like right now, you noticed more than just how handsome he was. you noticed the little scrunch of his brows when he was concentrating, you noticed the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. when it was as quiet as it was right now, you could even hear his breathing almost as subtle as the faint scent of cologne on him that had worn throughout the day.
maybe it was somewhat obsessive, but you didn’t do it on purpose. jaehyun made it easy to tune the world out and ignore everything that wasn’t him.
after washing your face, jaehyun grabbed you something to wear and asked, “need anything else, doll?”
“no, daddy. i’ve got it,” you replied, grabbing a towel for your shower. the water was running behind the curtains. “thank you.”
jaehyun grinned softly and bent down to press his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. “goodnight, baby,” he whispered.
“g’night, daddy.”
the door closed. you hated knowing that you were alone, that he wasn’t right there with you. at times, you got tempted to do things you used to do when you were younger, crawling into bed with him in the middle of the night, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. no matter how much you hated being separated.
you usually liked to milk time with him for all that it was worth, especially because he was always working. you stole the seat beside him at the dinner table, you watched him mend items in the house, and you spent a lot of time on the couch of his study when he was taking calls and doing paperwork.
once you had gotten redressed after your shower, you slipped into bed with a sigh. there was always tomorrow.
the cereal boxes were pushed too far back again.
you couldn’t reach them. even standing on your tippy toes, waving your hand aimlessly in hope of even scraping the damn corner of a box of cinnamon toast crunch, they were just too far. “ugh,” you whined, irritated.
jaehyun watched. his eyes were less on your challenging endeavor and more on the swell of your ass peeking from underneath your tiny nightgown as you rose off the heels of your feet onto your toes, noticing the way it jiggled when you stood normally again. there was a pang of guilt in his chest, watching you like that, but at the end of the day, jaehyun was just a man.
“i’ll get it,” jaehyun insisted, standing up from the bar to swing over without even having to ask which one you wanted. he routinely saw you only eat the same cereal.
you thanked him when he grabbed the box of cinnamon toast crunch and placed it securely into your hands. walking over to the counter where the milk and bowl were waiting, you noticed jaehyun come up behind you. at first, you thought he was just watching for whatever reason, so you ignored the thud in your chest at his proximity and poured the cereal.
then, you carefully grabbed the milk, not wanting to spill it accidentally. you had been guilty of that before. without warning, his hands dropped below your waist and cupped your cheeks, making your eyes go wide. “daddy,” you gasped out, bemused. “what are you doing?”
jaehyun shushed you, giving your neck a fleeting kiss before he shifted his attention back downwards, pushing your nightgown up so that it would bunch around your hips. “quiet,” he whispered.
“daddy, the milk,” you whined, having lost control of your grip when he touched you, catching you by surprise.
most of it had spilled out of its container, the bowl overflowing with streams of milk dripping off the counter that would stink if not cleaned soon enough. but some of it had splashed onto your face, chest and tummy. “shh,” jaehyun repeated. “don’t worry about it. you can milk something else.”
your face warmed in realization just as he began to press himself against you from behind, and the very big, very hard bulge in his pants made your mouth run dry.
or maybe it was the morning breath. because you woke up, sighing quietly at first, and turned to stretch your arm from underneath your blankets.
“what the fuck,” you grumbled a few minutes later when it dawned on you exactly what kind of dream you’d just had.
sure, you’d had dreams about jaehyun before, but they were nothing to write home about; they were entirely random and didn’t make logical sense, or they were simple and mundane, and very often, you didn’t realize they were dreams at first because they were so realistic that they could have been memories.
that was definitely a dream. you couldn’t imagine jaehyun doing anything like that to you. well, you certainly could, but that wasn’t the point. it wasn’t realistic whatsoever, other than him extending himself to help you.
it made you horny to think about. everything about the dream had physically felt so real to you; jaehyun’s hands on your ass, his bulge pressing against you from behind, and his warmth radiating onto you hotly enough to make you melt.
part of you was tempted to go back to bed, ignoring the faint chirps of birds outside your window and the light reaching through white and pink curtains. if only you could have stayed asleep a little longer, just to see how it ended. if only jaehyun would have ever felt that way about you too, then maybe it could become true.
but he wouldn’t. and even if he somehow did, jaehyun was at work by now. so you did the one you never thought you would do.
“hello?” jaemin said when he picked up the phone.
your heart sped. you were about to propose something that you were none too sure about, but something had to be done about the festering ache between your legs. your fingers weren’t satisfying you anymore; they hadn’t in years. “jaemin,” you whispered. “hi.”
“hi,” jaemin repeated dryly, wondering what you wanted. you could hear in his tone that he still wasn’t particularly thrilled about last night.
you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i’m sorry for running away last night,” you murmured. “i didn’t want to abandon you like that. i was just… scared.”
jaemin made a noise, but it was so quiet and distorted that you couldn’t decide what to make of it. “you were scared,” he replied, echoing your words again.
you gave a deep, prolonged exhale. you knew that you were running out of time with him, that one day, he would grow sick of your excuses and your stalling. “i knew that… you were trying to have sex,” you explained. “and i didn’t… i didn’t feel comfortable. i was drunk. and then you said we were going to jeno’s room, and i got even more worried.”
“why?”
“i don’t like jeno,” you admitted, although you thought it would be obvious by now. “he looks at me weird.”
“baby,” jaemin sighed. you could hear how frustrated he was. “jeno’s not gonna hurt you. he just likes to have a little fun. but if it makes you feel better, i’ll try to keep him in line.”
you were only half relieved. “thank you.”
“now, is that why you called me? to tell me jeno makes you uncomfortable?” he asked.
“no,” you stammered, playing with the hem of your shirt in attempt to distract yourself from your nerves. “there’s something else i wanted to tell you.”
“what is it, sweetheart?”
you blurted, “i think i’m ready.”
you could practically feel jaemin perk up. “like, seriously?” he asked, stunned.
“yeah,” you replied, but it weak. there was a bit of regret in your chest when the word left your mouth, but you tried to swallow it down and keep it there. “i’m ready, jaemin. right now.”
jaemin was ruffling through something, probably his drawer. “shit,” he said, excited. you wondered if his heart was beating even half as fast as yours was. “where are you right now?”
“home.”
“can i come over?”
“yeah,” you muttered again. he lived far enough that you had time to wash up a little and get your mind together. “my dad is at work and my mom probably won’t be home until later. it’s just me.”
“i’m on the way,” jaemin said without missing a beat, quickly hanging up.
you took a deep breath, trying to relax yourself. jaemin was your boyfriend. you were supposed to call him when you had needs; itches that needed scratching.
it was a conflict that had been warring in your mind for weeks, maybe subconsciously months. on the one hand, your lust was only centered around jaehyun and you were afraid of having sex with jaemin for more reasons than one. but on the other, the human desire for release had ran to a peak and now it was unignorable, your body begging to be satiated.
you knew what the most prudent choice would have been: dumping jaemin, getting over these unrational feelings for your stepfather, and no longer settling for men that treated you as less than what you deserved. but what did you look like being alone again, waiting for someone to decide they loved you, especially when your heart belonged to someone who could never be yours?
clearly, you were in no way in the position to make prudent choices. not when the need burning inside you outweighed the reason.
time went by faster than you thought, considering that jaemin didn’t particularly live nearby. you had spent the better half of that time in your own head, wondering what would happen, and the sound of the doorbell ringing jolted you out of your thoughts.
your heart was pounding with all its might as you made deliberately slow, steadys steps down the stairs and to the front door where you knew jaemin would be waiting. seeing his face when you opened the door only made you more anxious.
jaemin, on the other hand, beamed when he saw you. you weren’t sure if you had ever seen him smile at you like that before. “hey, baby,” he greeted, stepping inside.
“hi,” you murmured, shutting the door behind him.
jaemin coiled his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. his alluring, familiar scent put you at ease a little more. “i missed you,” he whispered, fingers sliding underneath your shirt to draw patterns on your navel, almost as if he could sense your need for comfort. “you ran off on me last night.”
your smile was sheepish as you apologized again, “i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay. i know why you did it,” jaemin said, glancing around as you led him out of the foyer little by little. “i just realized i’ve never been inside your house.”
that was not only true, but intentional; for obvious reasons, you didn’t want to be in the house with jaemin by yourself, but you also didn’t want him around your parents, either. your mother would find some way to embarrass you and the few times jaehyun and jaemin had met, there was strange tension in the air.
based on your mother’s behavioral patterns and those interactions alone, you had made the unilateral decision that it would be better for everyone involved if you kept your relationship with jaemin outside. “yeah,” you said, happy to think about anything but what was to come. “it’s better that way, don’t you think?”
jaemin chuckled, nodding his head. when he saw the stairs, he instinctively started heading that way. “yeah. i don’t think your dad likes me very much.”
“he’s just protective,” you replied, although you remembered jaehyun telling you outright that he didn’t like your boyfriend.
“you don’t need protecting from me,” jaemin told you, slipping his hand down from your navel to your hand as you started up the steps. “have you been telling him mean things about me?”
define mean, was what you answered in your head. if anything, you had probably described jaemin too kindly, too gently. he had never hurt you, at least in the sense that he had never put his hands on you, but he was aggressive in other, more hurtful ways. “no, i told him the truth.”
“and what’s the truth?”
“that i love you,” you lied. “and i want to do this with you.”
jaemin looked like the happiest man alive, and something told you that it was unusual for him to be more enthusiastic in this moment than almost any other moment he’d spent with just the two of you. but the fear that had kept you close to him for so long was the same fear that had held you apart, and it was the same fear telling you to be silent.
but when jaemin opened the door to your bedroom, his face fell. “what’s all this?”
your brows furrowed. “…my bedroom?”
“yours?” jaemin echoed, apparently appalled as he scanned your bedroom from left to right.
the main culprit, however, seemed to be the miscellaneous plushies thrown about your bed. “oh,” you whispered, confused. your mother had found it childish and voiced her unwanted opinion every now and then, but you never thought it was so bad.
jaemin scoffed, “what are you, thirteen? i’m not fucking you on that.”
“but, jaemin,” you started, noticing him turning back around. your stomach churned. he was leaving.
shaking his head, jaemin threw the door open and said, “you really have to grow up, baby.”
you followed him, frantic. you knew he could your footsteps as you trailed behind him down the stairs, but he didn’t bother turning around, as if he had already decided he didn’t want to see you anymore. “jaemin, please don’t go,” you begged.
he didn’t listen. he didn’t even look at you, not until he made it to the front door and said, “goodbye,” followed by your name. then, he walked out the door, passing your mother on his way out.
as if this afternoon couldn’t get any worse.
as soon your mother stepped through the door, looking like she had been awake for the past twelve hours doing god knows what, she went, “really? you turn eighteen and think you can just do whatever you want? why the hell are you bringing boys over?”
you were already on the verge of tears and you didn’t have the strength to put up with her, so for the first time in your life, you chose to walk away. she called after you, demanding you to come back, but you ignored it and raced upstairs to your bedroom.
it hurt more than it should have, watching jaemin leave like that, watching him go despite your pleas. maybe because it felt all too familiar. your brain recognized the feeling belligerently attacking you and your heart weakly surrendered to it, still too broken.
maybe you were always too broken, maybe that was why they never stayed. this is what men do, you told yourself through hot, wet tears. they take what they want, and then when it becomes even a little too much for them, they leave. nothing will change that. they won’t change themselves.
sitting alone by yourself in your closed bedroom with only your stuffed toys to bear witness to your suffering, it still felt humiliating. you had already come to the conclusion that what you felt for jaemin was not love, at least not of a romantic nature. and yet for the life of you, you couldn’t wrap your head around why it still hurt so bad.
it was a dizzying, throbbing ache that only persisted the longer you sat on the carpeted floor, weeping. for a fleeting moment, you were twelve again, old enough to recognize your first heartbreak but not enough to put a name to it. you remembered like it was yesterday, watching your father’s back as he walked out of the door, hauling the last of what he would bring with him into his new life, and leaving you in the old chapter.
there was a certain shape of hopelessness that you’d molded into, the loud, petty arguments and traded hits culminating in the few seconds it took to realize that you didn’t mean as much as a toothbrush, a watch, a box of wrenches or an old, wrinkled tee. because if you had, maybe he would have taken you, too.
and maybe if you meant more to jaemin than what was between your legs, he would still be here now. denying him sex for so long made you feel powerful; he was wrapped around your finger at some point, submissive, so to speak, and willing to do anything with the hopes that you would give it up. you took advantage of that. you used him so that for once in your life, you could feel wanted and in control.
and as you had ultimately come to expect, your woeful thoughts soon wandered to the greatest manifestation of your desires so far: jaehyun. it only seemed just that the world would taunt and tantalize you with the most perfect man you’d ever known, the only one you could ever trust with your heart.
the cards had been dealt so that you had just enough access to admire how much of a dream he was, but not enough to let you slip away; you could doze off, vaguely picturing what it would be like in a world where the steep heights and pitless hollows of your affection could be reciprocated, but every time, you would be jolted back awake.
the more you thought about it, there had to be a reason why you seemed to want things more after coming to find there was no feasible way you could make them yours - because you wanted control.
control, particularly over your own life, was something you had long wanted yet long been denied. you wanted to be able to make decisions for yourself without having your circumstances be shaped around the decisions of others. you didn’t want to suffer the consequences of a choice you had no say in. you wanted to reap what was rightfully yours.
seeing someone like jaehyun, someone that you knew you could never have, only made him attractive tenfold. until now, you never noticed how this manifested similarly in other parts of your life, like in your overwhelming urge to prove yourself. to be the adult it seemed like everyone doubted you could be.
that’s why it’s so hard for me to accept denial and handle rejection, you rationalized as you peeled yourself off the floor and onto your bed, having finally stopped sobbing. because i’ve been denied simple pleasures my whole life, and yet people try to deny me even more.
thinking back to the little girl you once were, the one that was full of life and imagination, the one that foolishly had hoped her mother and father would stay together, the one that was innocent and naive, and knew nothing about how brutal reality truly was, you couldn’t help but burst into tears all over again.
because that little girl didn’t deserve to have to grow up so quickly. if you could have undone it all, if you could have spared that little girl the trauma of crying herself to sleep as she heard her parents arguing down the hall, if you could have stopped her dad from leaving for years, if you could have stopped her mom from inviting man to man into her life, you would have done it in a heartbeat.
and then there was the part of you that had always craved romance, the part of you that remained unfulfilled. combining this lifelong grapple with control with an unattainable lover, it was no secret why you wanted to prove the stars wrong.
just this once, you wanted to know that you deserved good things too.
after a long moment of drifting between the sickness in your mind that had been infecting your thoughts, you eventually cried yourself to sleep. it was something you hadn’t done in years, but when you woke up, you almost felt better.
you dragged yourself out of bed and slipped on your house shoes, trudging downstairs while mumbling prayers about how you hoped you wouldn’t bump into your mother. you knew she would give you an earful about earlier.
to your surprise, rather than your mother, jaehyun was in the kitchen. he turned when he heard your heavy footsteps. “hey, doll,” he said, shutting the refrigerator.
you grumbled a response and waved weakly, moving past the island so that you could join him near the refrigerator. you would have opened it yourself, but jaehyun beat you to it, handing you a water.
when your eyes widened a little in surprise, jaehyun snickered and asked, “what else do you drink?”
he had a good point there. it was rare you drank anything but water in the house, not that you had a specific reason for it. it was just a habit you hadn’t broken. “and what if i was hungry?” you asked playfully, accepting the water from his hands.
“you wouldn’t have touched the refrigerator, because you always get everything delivered.”
you gasped in mock offense. “hey, i cook sometimes!”
jaehyun chuckled. “yes, you do, doll. but i know not to expect you to cook anything if you look like you just crawled out of bed.”
you hummed, sitting down at the island and twisting the cap off the water. you didn’t realize how long you had been asleep, but it had to have been a while if jaehyun was home.
jaehyun followed you, sitting beside you. he didn’t say anything for a minute, wanting to carefully think over his words so that they came out as intended. “i went up to your room earlier to talk to you about something, but you were sleeping, so i left you alone.”
you glanced over at him, finishing your swig before you asked, “talk about what?”
“your mother wants me to address your… disobedience, as she puts it,” jaehyun started levelly.
you sighed, slamming your head against the counter. of course, she did. “i guess she told you jaemin was here earlier?”
“she did.”
you were almost certain that that woman just didn’t want you to breathe. she had been able to control you less and less over the years, and the more you resisted, the more determined she seemed. like mother, like daughter. “well, it’s your house. if you don’t want me to have boys over, then fine, i respect that. but she doesn’t have the right to police me.”
“it’s not just the boy,” jaehyun replied, although he had his own set of grievances about that. “she feels like you’re becoming rebellious in general.”
you almost rolled your eyes. “and why couldn’t she tell me that herself?”
sighing, jaehyun said, “because she pointed out that you only seem to listen to me, not her.”
“yeah, because it’s surprising i’m more inclined to obey someone who knows how to have an actual conversation than someone who just wants to yell and doesn’t care to hear me,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “daddy, she’s been trying to control my life since forever. i’m sick of it.”
“i know how you feel, doll, but you haven’t exactly been making smart choices lately, either,” jaehyun answered gently, resting a hand on your knee. “like your boyfriend, for example.”
“i told you, i don’t like him.”
jaehyun didn’t skip a beat. “and i asked you, why are you dating him, then?”
“god, you just don’t get it,” you grumbled, opening your water bottle to take another large gulp.
“then, explain it to me,” jaehyun said gently, eyes meeting yours with a reservoir of adoration. “make me get it. i’m here to listen to you, baby girl. i want to understand you, but i can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”
but you couldn’t let him in, not that far, because then he would see something that startled him. it was easier to break your own heart over and over than it was to risk his opinion of you changing, all for some closure. “i don’t want to talk about it.”
jaehyun heaved a breath. he absolutely despised when you froze him out. he wasn’t stupid; he noticed that you were only this less forthcoming when it came to the topic of your boyfriend that he couldn’t understand for the life of him why you kept seeing. every time he thought he’d had a productive conversation with you about him, jaehyun heard something else about that boy.
something more infuriating than the last.
you stood up from the barstool, an idle box of cereal on top of the refrigerator catching your eye as you did, and you remembered the dream you’d had about him that inspired everything to happen today. “i love you, daddy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him. “thank you for trying.”
you believed him, you truly did, but it hurt to think that he was the only man that would ever say that to you and mean it. “i know.”
jaehyun placed a hand on his shoulder before you could leave, hoping to get one more sentence in. “i know it’s not easy for you, doll, but can you try to appease your mother every now and then? for me?”
you stifled a sigh, nodding your head. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do, daddy,” you murmured.
jaehyun smiled softly and pat your shoulder.
for the next couple of days, you pathetically waited by your phone, hoping to hear from jaemin again. normally, he would text you the day or two after an unresolved argument, apologizing profusely until you gave him a satisfactory answer.
or in other words, until you forgave him. but on the third day, you knew something was wrong. you hadn’t even argued, and yet he was ignoring your existence as if you had committed the most unjustifiable crime against humanity ever recorded.
this is really it, you thought fretfully, heart swelling with dread. he doesn’t want me anymore.
you tried to act like it didn’t hurt, like he didn’t wield this immense power over you, but you knew you were lying to yourself. and that jaemin had lied to you. he had said that you could never disappoint him, after all, but you were fairly certain that ship had sailed.
it was half past noon when you noticed a notification on your phone from one of your friends, an attachment with a text that read, hey, did you break up with jaemin? just asking because someone sent me a photo of him kissing another girl yesterday night.
surely enough, the attached image was of jaemin swallowing some other girl’s face, blurry in quality, but you knew your boyfriend’s face when you saw it. he had his hands round her waist, holding her close exactly like how he’d held you, only it seemed like it’d been so long since he’d touched you like that.
only one minute ago, you had been convinced that you had no more tears left to cry. staring at the image, pieces of your wounded heart dropping heavily to your stomach, you didn’t realize you were crying until the phone went black by itself and you faintly saw your reflection in its screen, mirroring you.
whatever had happened between you and jaemin the other day, you didn’t consider it a breakup. it was your understanding that you were still together, given that he hadn’t necessarily said something to indicate the opposite. maybe you were mistaken, but that didn’t make it feel like anything less of a betrayal.
but to call it a betrayal implied some level of trust, a level deeper than you thought you had possessed. your feelings for jaemin were complicated, but you knew that you had trusted him not to stab you in the back the second it was turned. you had trusted him to take care of you, to protect you. you had trusted him not to hurt you.
now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure why. the past couple of weeks alone had been hell, his advances becoming more frequent than ever now that you had turned eighteen, and he had always shown signs of wavering. but you ignored them. you were desperate to fill the void left behind by every man you’d ever loved.
torn from head to toe with the sting of emotion, you pushed open your bedroom door and went straight for your parents room. fortunately, it was empty, neither of them home to watch you sulk; the last thing you wanted was for your stepfather to see you sobbing over a boy he hated, and for your mother to say that she told she so.
the first place you touched was the closet, where you knew jaehyun kept his hoodies. you missed him. you missed him in ways you’d never genuinely known him, or felt him, or possessed him. perhaps it would have made more sense to say that you longed for him, but in your heart, those moments you’d dreamt of felt real sometimes.
taking one of his cozy, black hoodies down from where they hung, you hurriedly threw it on, quickly engulfed by its size. it was comforting. the smell was, too. if you closed your eyes, you could pretend that jaehyun was there, holding you in his arms and whispering in your ear that everything would be okay in the end.
you pinched the loose material of the hoodie that was dropping around your body as you sat on the floor and held it to your nose, eyes fluttering closed. he had been wearing it around the house a lot lately. you were very fond of the way he smelled. it was heavenly and masculine, but also safe and familiar.
it was uniquely his own, and, breathing in the scent of jaehyun, you exhaled calmly, pretending that he could want you.
his scent had another effect on you, too. it made you feral, to say the least. though you were mostly used to it, when you saw him for the first time after a while, it made you feel like a ferocious animal, hungry with lust and ready to pounce.
for a moment, you tried to be stronger. you tried to pull yourself together and remind yourself that this man was your stepfather, the man who was married to your mother. but the shame could only contend with the gravity of want for so long until one finally emerged triumphant.
you pulled the hoodie over your head and stared at it for a second, like you were giving yourself one final chance to not do something you’d regret, but lust prevailed over reason.
with nothing to hold you back, you wiggled out of your favorite pair of tiny house shorts, temporarily tossing them aside. you grabbed a hold of the hoodie and bunched it into shape between your thighs, slowly rocking your hips into it.
your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to think of something that would help get you off, every thought you were capable of developing revolving around your stepfather. what most of them had in common, however, was the vivid picture of jaehyun on top of you, weight crushing you hard as he rutted into you nice and deep.
it was too arousing to think about, what he would feel like buried so many inches deep inside you, face tensing as he fucked you with total abandon. you wanted him to lose self restraint, to whisper in your ear that he loved you, that he wanted you, that he needed you. and only you.
your needy hips moved faster. the muscles in your thighs were spasming, your whole body alive with the sparks of desire that were killing you slowly. breathy pants escaped your mouth, your jaw slacking as your body worked harder to exhale. you couldn’t breathe through the thick, muddled haze of your uncontrollable hunger.
how could you? the mere sight of jaehyun made your heart hammer sometimes, because it knew what it wanted. your entire body, at this point, knew what it wanted, but more importantly, it knew what it needed. you couldn’t shake the idea that jaehyun was good for you. that he was meant for you.
maybe thinking of jaehyun as some exquisite gift sent from the gods as a reward for enduring so much in so little time, rather than a titillating manifestation of everything you wanted but could never have, was merely an extreme sign of desperate coping, but you couldn’t help yourself. you deserved him, more than your mother ever would.
you could make him feel so good, if he only gave you the chance. if he only let loose for a moment and let himself indulge in the wonders between your legs that called out for him and sang his name. you didn’t know what you were thinking, almost letting another man claim what was so surely his, even if he didn’t know it yet.
one of your hands pushed up your skirt and you squeezed your breasts, imagining it was jaehyun’s bigger, stronger hand instead. your hips were now moving with a mind of their own, rough pants getting louder, and you thought of jaehyun touching you with just as much fervor and need. it felt more like you were hoping.
the heat in your core finally reached its peak and you orgasmed with a shaky moan, trying to milk the high for all it was worth, but the relief disappeared just as quickly as it had come. you sighed, hole throbbing emptily, and you inspected the hoodie for any signs of your arousal leaking through your underwear.
you pushed it aside and lied down on the floor, catching your breath as you tried to shake the guilt. you hated how much of a slave you were to this insatiable need, sinning in return for only a fleeting second of relief. but more than that, you hated settling. if you had it your way, jaehyun would have been fucking you every night.
the thought made your thighs clench against each other. sometimes, you foolishly hoped jaehyun would come into your room at night and ravage you in your sleep, fucking you awake. you knew he was so tired when he came home from work. he deserved to come home to a young, tight hole. and he deserved to use it whenever he wanted, however he wanted.
knees kicking up, your eyes shifted underneath your parents’ bed, and you noticed something hidden underneath. your curiosity got the better of you and you reached out to grab it. a tiny box came into your hands, and for a moment, you just looked at it, wondering what was inside.
there was no better way to find out than having a look yourself. you figured it was jaehyun’s, given that it was on his side of the bed, and that knowledge only made you want to open it more; you were itching to know everything about him.
your brows furrowed when you opened the box. the first thing you saw was a picture of a teenaged girl, maybe about thirteen or fourteen. you were confused about why he had it, but there were more pictures stacked beneath. the more you glanced through them, the more you realized she looked a little too much like jaehyun.
those cute, deep dimples, his deep, honey eyes, and his peachy, plump lips. you gasped, coming to only one reasonable conclusion: this was his daughter. but if true, why had you never seen her, or heard him speak about her?
you had to assume that he loved her. for one, he was keeping pictures and belongings of her beneath his bed. other than the photos, you saw a necklace with an initial that wasn’t his own, a charm bracelet, a bottle of feminine perfume and other items. a part of you felt like this was something you weren’t supposed to see, and out of respect, you put everything back just as you had found it and slid the box underneath the bed.
it felt like a violation of privacy and there was a pang of regret in your chest, but you couldn’t help but have questions. though jaehyun would be coming home later than usual tonight, so even if you somehow mustered the courage to ask him, it would be a while before you got the opportunity.
you reached out to grab your shorts and put them back on. the only thing left for you to take care of was jaehyun’s hoodie, which you weren’t sure what to do with. you could have put it back as if nothing had ever happened, but you would have felt bad if you didn’t wash it.
so, you did. mostly everything you did from that point on was to distract yourself from thinking about jaehyun. every now and then, you remembered what had happened with jaemin and there was a throbbing ache in your chest, but you pushed the thoughts away.
it was easier to think about jaehyun, to wonder how many things you really knew about him, this man that had taken on the role of father for the past five years of your life. after all, it was never him coming to you for advice on life, but you supposed that made sense. he was older than you, had gone through many of the things you were experiencing for the first time, and had the benefit of hindsight.
still, you were curious about him and the many years that had shaped him into the person he was now. were they kind? every person had their fair share of hardships and encounters with adversity, at least in some fashion, but you hoped he’d had it relatively easy. you knew what it was like to suffer and you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, much less him.
the efforts to distract yourself went on for so long that you even ended up making dinner, considering that your mother wasn’t home for whatever reason and you figured jaehyun would be hungry when he came back; you were hungry, and you hadn’t even done anything but think about him excessively.
like clockwork, jaehyun came in through the foyer and went to the kitchen, spotting you putting the finishing touches on dinner. “you’re cooking?”
you laughed at his surprise and nodded your head, turning off the stove. “i’m basically finished now,” you chirped, donning oven mittens. “i told you, i cook sometimes.”
jaehyun leaned against the counter, watching you take a pan out of the oven. “smells good,” he commented, humming in approval. “is your mother home?”
“nope,” you replied, setting the pan down on the stove. you had no idea where she was, nor did you care as long as she was safe.
“mm.”
you turned around to face jaehyun, taking a deeper look at him. he looked tired, exhausted even. you knew he would always deny how bad it was, though. “hungry?”
jaehyun bobbed his head and set a hand on his stomach. “starving.”
you and jaehyun sat down at the table beside each other and ate dinner, talking in between bites. your heart warmed to see how delighted he was while eating, the smile on his face at the first spoonful putting one on yours. your relationship with your mother had always been strained, but you had to thank her for teaching you how to cook.
while you had contemplated bringing up what you had seen earlier during dinner, every time you tried willing yourself to mention it to jaehyun, you got nervous and didn’t follow through. it wasn’t like it was something you were supposed to know about and you knew that by mentioning it, you would be telling on yourself.
not only that, but you didn’t know how jaehyun would feel about telling you about it, or if he would even want to talk about it. the last thing you wanted to do was overstep your boundaries, which was something you probably had already done the second you went into his bedroom and pried into his personal belongings.
after the dishes were washed, something jaehyun volunteered to help you take care of, you followed him into the living room where he usually went to relax after work. you managed to stay quiet for all of fifteen minutes before the guilt overwhelmed you and you apologized, “i’m sorry.”
jaehyun turned his attention way from the television to look at you, brows furrowing. “for what?”
you swallowed the lump in your throat. you could have gotten away with it, but it didn’t feel right not to mention. “i went into your room today.”
jaehyun didn’t mind you being in his bedroom, but it was unusual that you were there when you had your own. “why?”
you smiled anxiously, fidgeting with your hands. that was the important part. you left out what you had done with the hoodie, deciding he didn’t need to know that. “i just did,” you replied, your voice quiet. “but that’s not the part i’m apologizing for. i saw something under your bed. and, i looked through it.”
jaehyun’s face changed, something more melancholy tensing his features. “oh.”
“i’m sorry,” you repeated, faint. the look on his face made you feel even more guilty than you already had.
jaehyun pat the top of your head, as if he knew that you needed the reassurance. “it’s okay,” he said, smiling thinly. “i guess you have questions now, don’t you?”
you nodded reluctantly. those questions were essentially all you had thought about it since you discovered that box underneath his bed. “i do, but… you don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”
“it’s alright,” jaehyun replied, exhaling. that shroud of melancholy was still hanging over him. “she was my daughter.”
your heart stopped. “…was?”
for a moment, jaehyun was silent and he didn’t immediately respond. you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, overthinking everything you were doing. he exhaled yet another breath and replied, “she passed away six years ago. car accident.”
that explained everything, but now you felt worse than you had before and it was killing you. “daddy…”
it looked like it pained him to talk about it, but he did it anyway. “i was married before i met your mother,” he explained. “everything was good. we had a few problems, but hey, no marriage is completely perfect. my ex-wife took our daughter out and they were coming back home when they got into a car accident. she wasn’t paying attention. she lived; our daughter didn’t.”
you were silent. you didn’t know what to say.
tensing a little, jaehyun continued, “we had a divorce because i blamed her, and i couldn’t stand to be around her anymore. i don’t think i can ever forgive her for being so reckless.”
“i wish that never happened to you, daddy. you didn’t deserve that,” you said compassionately.
“you lost someone, too.”
the thought of your father left a sour taste, and to be frank, you never wanted to think about him again. “yeah, my dad left me, but at least the bastard’s still alive. if i wanted to talk to him, i could. but you don’t have that option.”
jaehyun’s eyes flitted over you and he reached out to push your hair out of your face. “that’s why i want to protect you, doll. you mean more to me than you will ever know.”
there your heart went again, acting a fool at the smallest words and actions. “you mean a lot to me, too.”
after much internal wavering, jaehyun reluctantly confessed, “i was never going to tell you this, but when i met your mother, part of what i liked about her was that she had a daughter. just a year younger than my daughter would be. and i wanted her back. i wanted her back so badly. so to me, it felt like god was giving me a second chance.”
your eyes flickered. you had always wondered what it was he liked about your mother in the first place. they made a strange pair; he seemed so different from her type, and his personality was much softer than hers. “really?”
“that’s why i tried so hard in the beginning to grow on you. even though it couldn’t have been more obvious that you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he told you lightheartedly.
you giggled, remembering how much you had been against your mother getting married to this man you barely knew. “you’re a great father,” you whispered. “thank you for not giving up halfway.”
“i’ll never give up on you.”
you were beaming. “i know.”
this conversation had taken a different direction than you had initially expected, but ultimately, you were happy with it. you had been so afraid of him getting upset with you, and though it would have been justified, you knew rationally that it just wasn’t in his nature.
at least, not when it came to you. you had noticed the anger bristling within him when he spoke of the mother of his child; it made you angry on his behalf. but even then, jaehyun’s anger was nothing like the kind you had grown up surrounded with. it wasn’t loud, aggressive, or dangerous. it was quiet, composed, restrained.
much like the rest of him.
in the time that you had spent thinking about jaehyun’s life and all the secrets it contained, you had figured something out about yourself. “i’m going to break up with jaemin,” you announced.
though he didn’t expect the topic change, jaehyun couldn’t hide his relief. “what took you so long?”
you chuckled, because that was a good question, to be fair. “well, for one, at least to my knowledge, he hadn’t cheated on me until now,” you retorted.
the anger was back, only this time, you swore it had a more hostile air to it than ever. “he did what?” jaehyun exclaimed.
you shrugged your shoulders. it wasn’t that it didn’t bother you, because it did. come to think about it, it mostly hurt because you would have never done the same thing to him, no matter how much you lusted after your stepfather.
taking a deep, frustrated breath, you explained, “yeah. long story short, when he came over the other day, it was because i had agreed to have sex with him. but when he saw my room for the first time, he basically called me childish and said he wasn’t doing it there. then he marched out.”
jaehyun shook his head, but he wasn’t surprised. at least you had enough self-respect to end it now. he was starting to become afraid that he would need to shake some sense into you.
jaemin had served a purpose. he was unbelievably handsome, undoubtedly smart, and told you everything that you wanted to hear. he distracted you from what you were really after, and in return, you ignored what he was really after.
there was a large part of you that felt ashamed for lying to yourself for so long. but now you were being honest. you owed yourself that much. “i was so stupid. part of the reason i didn’t want to have sex with him was because i wanted him to stay, and i wasn’t sure if he would still choose me afterwards. i was scared he would get what he wanted and leave. but the reason i agreed to have sex with him was because i could feel him getting bored and pulling away. and in the end, he left me anyway.”
you had already decided you weren’t going to hold it against him, because you were both guilty of something. you had lied to each other, taken advantage of each other, and bled dry each other. both of you had tried to force something that was never really there. you would never forgive him for cheating, but you could understand him leaving.
jaehyun listened intently, watching your face as you talked about your relationship and what went wrong. he picked out his words, not wanting to be blinded by his lack of disappointment. “you’re not stupid for wanting someone to like you.”
your eyes met his. i want you to like me, you thought to yourself, wishful. “am i stupid for staying even though i knew deep down that it wasn’t really me that he liked?”
“no, doll,” jaehyun replied gently, bracing a hand on your knee. “you’re just disillusioned.”
you chuckled. “you sure you’re not just saying that?”
jaehyun squeezed your knee, giving you comfort that he knew you needed. it would be complicated, you already knew, coping with your feelings for him now that you wouldn’t have jaemin’s shenanigans to distract you. not that they really ever helped. “you’re young. even your mind has a mind of its own. i think it’s only stupid if you make the same mistake twice.”
you hummed, knowing that that probably wouldn’t be happening. you weren’t the type of person to jump from relationship to relationship. you were too afraid of abandonment for that. you could only handle so many of them before you snapped.
as jaehyun looked at you, he couldn’t help but feel guilty, thinking maybe he should have done more to keep you safe from a boy like that. but you were an adult now, and he was trying to give you the space to take care of yourself on your own. “did you ever really like jaemin?” he asked after a pause.
“i think i just liked feeling wanted,” you murmured, ashamed of your own stupidity.
jaehyun let that sink in. he knew you had been dealing with certain insecurities for years, and the thought that he still had yet been able to help you made him feel worthless. “what kind of boyfriend do you want?”
there was a lull of silence as you thought about it thoroughly. you had liked jaemin because you thought he could be everything you should have wanted, but he wasn’t necessarily your type. “someone who’s tender,” you decided, something jaemin selectively was. “someone who’s assertive, protective, and takes care of me.”
“mm.”
your heart was racing, but somehow you found the courage to add, “someone like you.”
jaehyun tried to rationalize that, he truly did. in his mind, the idea of wanting someone who embodied the traits of a strong father figure was a perfectly normal desire. but he wasn’t an idiot, and he could hear everything you didn’t say, and recognize the sudden change in your body language.
because you didn’t want a boyfriend; you wanted a father.
sighing, jaehyun relaxes his eyes for a second before he opens them again, taking in how fragile you appear and feel beneath his heavy hands. “doll, you’re my daughter.”
“stepdaughter,” you corrected in a heartbeat.
jaehyun ignored you, continuing, “and you’re so young.”
“i’m eighteen,” you replied, heart thudding so fast you couldn’t stay still. “i’m an adult.”
jaehyun didn’t seem pleased, or convinced for that matter. it was as you feared; he would always see you as this little girl that needed saving. “you may legally be an adult,” jaehyun started, quiet. “but mentally, you are still a little girl.”
that stung. you never knew jaehyun was capable of it until now, but he had really burned you with such few words. your eyes even burned with the threat of tears. “if that’s how you feel,” you murmured, standing up from the sofa.
jaehyun softened, immediately regretting having ever said anything. “doll, wait.”
you didn’t, making a beeline straight for the stairs. you weren’t sure what you were expecting. he thought of himself as your father and he was married to your mother. why would he see you like that?
why did you see him like that?
to make matters worse, jaehyun didn’t follow you. you didn’t turn around, but the lack of footsteps behind you wasn’t lost on your ears. pretending it didn’t bother you, you went to your bedroom, shut the door, and dropped on your bed.
maybe you should have been grateful that your biggest problem in life was unreciprocated feelings. you knew there were all too many things you had to be grateful for, especially things jaehyun provided for you, like education and a nice home and fatherly love. there was no good reason to expect more than that from him. maybe you were just greedy.
or maybe you were needy. at worst, you were a little bit of both, but that wasn’t completely your fault. when bred from incompetence and instability, no one could rationally expect anything but insanity. if no one had ever given you a fair chance at normalcy, then no one could expect you to know how to reinvent yourself into something ordinary.
it was just so exhausting to be continuously rejected, because you were too this or not enough of that. you never knew how to be what anyone wanted. you never knew how to make anyone stay. just once, you wanted someone to care for you the same way you cared about them, and nothing less.
just when you were beginning to accept that you were hopeless, there was a knock on your door. wiping at your eyes, you reluctantly called out, “it’s open.”
jaehyun came in, shutting the door behind him, heart clenching in his chest when he noticed your reddening eyes. “calm down yet?” he asked.
you shrugged your shoulders, but murmured, “i don’t know if i’ll ever calm down.”
he could tell that you didn’t just mean the exchange downstairs; no, whatever storm was raging and rushing within you unbeknownst to him, it was only festering. “i try not to say the wrong things,” jaehyun said, slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of your bed.
you knew that. it was something you had come to like about him. he was careful, loving. it was never his intention to hurt anyone. but he was only human, and humans made mistakes and had lapses in judgment. “maybe you weren’t wrong. maybe i’m just immature.”
“maybe a little bit,” jaehyun told you, frank, but lighthearted. “but i could have said it a little better.”
you rolled your eyes, almost feeling better already. but the faint echo in your heart had yet to cease. “you don’t need to sugarcoat everything for me all the time, you know.”
jaehyun hummed. you were saying that, but he knew that he could break you into pieces if he wanted. tinier, more insignificant pieces than the ones you already were broken into. but he wouldn’t. he was realizing the full scope of power he wielded over you, and now that he knew, he wanted to be cautious. “i think i understand you now.”
your eyes leapt up to his face, almost like you were begging for that to be true. “what do you mean?”
“why you do the things you do,” jaehyun continued, dabbing at a tear that had fallen down your cheeks. “you don’t want a boyfriend. you want a father.”
saying nothing, you fidgeted with your thumbs and held your breath. you weren’t used to having your heart laid flat on the table.
jaehyun stopped you, setting his palm on the back of your hand. “you want me,” he said, making you wish you could disappear. “and that’s why you kept saying that you didn’t really want jaemin, but never explained to me why you kept dating.”
you leaned your head on his shoulder. “i love you so much, daddy.”
jaehyun’s heart was pounding in ways it hadn’t in a long time. “i know you do, baby girl. but you know that this isn’t right.”
“i don’t care.”
jaehyun sighed. “i’ve known you since you were thirteen, doll.”
“so? am i thirteen right now?”
“no, but you’re barely legal.”
“i’m legal. you don’t need to put unnecessary adverbs in front of it. i’m not some kid, daddy.”
there was no doubt that jaehyun was trying to change your mind, hoping to say something that would make you realize how foolish this was. too bad for him, you were too far gone. “your mother…,” he started.
“i don’t care,” you repeated a little harsher. “you told me yourself, you basically married her for me. and all she does is leech off you. i know it and you know it. we don’t even know where she is right now. say that you love her more than you love me, say it!”
“i don’t like your tone right now, doll,” jaehyun told you, stern, but level.
obeying the silent command in his voice, you quietened, murmuring, “i’m sorry, daddy.”
jaehyun sighed, stuck between a rock and a hard place. he put a hand on your thigh. “but you’re right. i do love you more.”
“then, prove it,” you whispered, inviting him. daring him. prove that you love me. prove that you’re just as sick as i am. prove to me that i have you in every way, that i’m not alone.
jaehyun knew that he shouldn’t. he was considering everything you had failed to acknowledge - your mother, his marriage, proper morality, and the fate of his relationship with you. but where he had been ignorant to your fermenting feelings, he hadn’t failed to notice exactly how much you had grown up.
the way your body had matured. the way you’d began coordinating your signature scents into something that was indisputably yours. the way your taste in fashion had changed from fluffy, pink skirts to short ones that were one wrong move away from flashing your plush cheeks and the cute, thin fabric of your underwear clinging tightly onto your cunt it just hardly concealed.
jaehyun had, too, noticed, and been rather fond of, how you were usually the meekest thing in the world only for him. with enough conditioning, in a world that was darker, he could put a gun in your hand and turn you into his little obedient vixen. you just wanted to heal him, please him, satisfy him.
but it would be wrong. and jaehyun had once prided himself on the fact that he did everything right. he got the most compelling grades in school to prove that he had genuine smarts to pair with his wealth, he went to a top university and worked hard, he got a job straight after graduation, met who he thought was the perfect woman, married her, bought a opulent house with her, and had a beautiful daughter with her.
so what if he still had to repeat a couple of steps, and so what if he had messed up on a few? at least he didn’t mess up on you. the only thing he regretted when it came to you was not completely noticing, not doing more to keep you from struggling.
you were more than just a reclaim of what he had lost. jaehyun didn’t think of his first daughter when he thought of you, not anymore. with you getting older and growing into your own person, your own way of life, it was difficult to see her in you. so, he accepted you as your own person, and in turn, he let go.
but that fact didn’t make him feel any less guilty or conflicted. you were still his stepdaughter, and you trusted him to protect you. your mother trusted him to protect you. everybody trusted him to guide you, steer you, lead you.
looking into his brown, troubled eyes, you instantly knew what it meant. he needed some persuasion, something to hinder his overthinking.
“please,” you pleaded, resting a hand on his lower abdomen just as gingerly as the way he handled you in mind and in body. he was still in his work shirt, broad shoulders catching your eye as you succumbed to the urge to rub your smooth palms over them.
look at you, begging him to fuck you. gazing up at him with those big, hopeful eyes with a shimmer that was so sweetly sparkling he almost mistook it as innocent. but he knew better. those were eyes that hoped for corruption, that sought comfort in destruction, and that were molded into the puppet of pain.
you lowered your hand again, stopping just shy of his crotch hidden by his work pants. fumbling with the fly, you looked into his eyes, searching for something. any indication that he was resisting. but you only saw him watching like even he didn’t know what he wanted.
it was surprising. you had been half expecting him to put his hand over yours and stop you, to remind you again that this was wrong and he didn’t see you how you saw him, but he just kept his eyes focused on you as if he was trying to see just how far you would go.
testing the waters, you undid his pants and went straight for his cock, the sound of a strained grunt making your cunt clench around emptiness. it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. you had imagined pulling those sounds out of jaehyun, closed your eyes and immersed yourself in a resewn fabric of another reality, but nothing measured up to hearing it for yourself.
jaehyun knew that things were rapidly approaching the point of no return and he groaned, “doll…”
“make me stop,” you whispered, gently wrapping your fingers around him and moving your hand in a relaxed motion. “make me stop, daddy.”
it wasn’t for lack of trying. jaehyun closed his eyes, wanting to will himself to be the rational person in the room since you had forwent reason entirely, but the second your small, supple hands tightened around his shaft, he knew he had failed.
he didn’t want you to stop. and you you didn’t want to stop, either.
you beamed victoriously, his silence being a telltale sign that he had succumbed to the same infectious wanting that had long plagued you. you moved your hand only a little faster, endeavoring to stroke him hard. it seemed that with every touch and movement of your wrist, his breathing was growing louder, more labored.
when he was fully hard, you had to suck in a gasp. you weren’t sure how you were going to fit every inch of him inside you, and the only thing that seemed clear was that you had your work cut out for you. nevertheless, you still wanted to make him feel good, so you glanced up at him and said sweetly, “tell me what to do. teach me, daddy.”
you caught a quiet, “fuck,” from underneath jaehyun’s breath as he heard what you had said, on the verge of losing his mind altogether, and it was doing unmistakable damage to his psyche. doing the right thing was no longer an option. all that was left was ache and need. without it, you didn’t know who you were.
releasing a shaky breath, jaehyun brushed his thumb against your bottom lip with affection and whispered, “take it in your mouth. go slow and gentle.”
you nodded your head obediently, opening your mouth just wide enough to fit his girth between your parted lips. the first inch was fine; the second inch had its complications, given that you hadn’t adjusted to the pressure of his cock in your mouth and breathing through your nose. by the third, you folded, withdrawing.
“i’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling like you should have at least been able to do that much.
jaehyun shook his head, smiling, and smoothed a hand through your hair. “that’s okay, baby,” he said, understanding. “try again.”
you sucked him into your mouth again, right between your lips, cheeks hollowed and everything, but for some odd reason, you couldn’t relax. you already felt like you were about to gag and it was only the first couple of inches. when you tried to take another, you had to pull back again.
there was a faint burning in the back of your throat. you didn’t even notice that a few tears had fallen from one of your eyes until you pulled your mouth off. you frowned, unable to shake the fear that you would disappoint him somehow if you couldn’t do it.
“you’re okay,” jaehyun reassured you, patting your head. “you’re okay, doll. i promise.”
with another nod, you decided to give it one more go, determined. not only because you wanted to prove yourself, but because you wanted to make him feel good. you couldn’t think of anyone that deserved it more than he did.
this time, jaehyun held your hair comfortably behind your head and caressed the strands as you tried to pleasure him once more, accepting what you could into your mouth bit by bit. you were less tense than before and it enabled you to concentrate on breathing and not overwhelming yourself too quickly.
afraid that you would gag again if you tried to take another inch, you decided to use your hand to take care of the remaining amount that wouldn’t fit. fortunately, it seemed to work; your mouth kept one part of him company, and your hands moved to prevent the other from becoming too neglected.
jaehyun moaned, curses falling here and there. you could feel the wetness soiling your underwear and he hadn’t even done anything yet. his voice was low and deep, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. minute by minute, you became more and more aware of how aroused you were, and your mind, friend and foe, tempted you with pictures of what it would be like to finally have jaehyun inside.
to your surprise, jaehyun cautiously pried you off his cock, making you look up at him and wonder if you had done something wrong, but all he said was, “i don’t want to come yet.”
your thighs squeezed together in excitement. if not now, then later. and if not in your mouth, then hopefully deep, deep inside.
“daddy,” you called out, somewhat timid. “are you gonna fuck me?”
jaehyun was maybe a few seconds away from short-circuiting and it was admirable that he hadn’t done so already, all things considered. he didn’t reply immediately, having to catch his breath. “do you want me to?”
“yes,” you replied in a heartbeat.
the room felt hot, and jaehyun couldn’t tell if it was real or it was in his head. “say it.”
it was a little awkward for you to say it so bluntly, but given that you had come this far, you might as well. “i want you to fuck me, daddy.”
jaehyun grunted and said something that sounded like, “come here,” as he gingerly pulled you off your knees and back onto your mattress. before you even blinked, he was pressing his lips to yours, enveloping them in a sweet, fiery kiss.
it felt like a daydream. maybe because you had dreamed of him before and this captured the exact floaty, cloudlike feeling of his arms cushioning your body in a dream, only the speeding thud in your heart making it undeniably real.
you couldn’t liken it to any kiss that you and jaemin had shared. while you would admit that jaemin was objectively a good kisser, almost everything you did together lacked passion; there was no spark behind even the most tender of touches. and yet somehow just being this close to jaehyun made your whole body scorch with the fever of suppressed want.
jaehyun slowly forced himself away and began to descend down your body, tugging your shorts down your thighs. heat filled your cheeks when his fingers hooked under your underwear next, but you raised your hips so that he could pull them off. what caught you by surprise, however, was when his tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh.
you gasped, a jolt making your body snap. “wait, daddy, you don’t need to. i’m already wet enough.”
that you were. jaehyun could see plain as day how your wet folds glistened with an arousal that had been building longer than he could ever imagine, gone ignored and neglected no longer. “i know,” he grunted out. “i want to.”
then without another word, jaehyun went to town. he started slow, gentle; his larger hands were firm on your plush thighs as he held them apart, almost as if he expected you to eventually resist him. for now, though, there was no need; he was tasting your devotion on his tongue, in no apparent hurry to let this moment end.
your breaths were becoming increasingly heavy, and a part of you still couldn’t believe that this was really happening - jaehyun was in between your legs, prepared to make you seen every star that hung in the night sky. you did what you could to commit the sight to memory, refusing to let it get away.
jaehyun wanted to see you unravel. you nearly died when he pressed his tongue deep inside you, abruptly tearing a sweet cry out of your mouth. the muscle wandered over your walls, savoring what he would feel soon enough. but for now, he was more than content to gather every bit of your arousal on the very tip of his tongue and make you feel sensations unimagined.
“god, you taste so good, baby,” jaehyun groaned, hands clamping tightly around your thighs. “so goddamn good.”
it was from that moment forward he lost control; his self-restraint broke; he was consumed with abandon. jaehyun licked and sucked at your bundle of nerves, drawing out more noises than before. your hips jerked as you laid sprawled out before him, entirely at his mercy.
just the way you always wanted.
“does that feel good, baby?” jaehyun pulled away for the shortest second to ask. “do you want me to slow down?”
you shook your head, hands desperately fisting the sheets. “no, please. don’t slow down. down stop,” you begged.
hearing you say that only made jaehyun harder, but he was still a man with some inhibitions if it meant drawing out the pleasure you felt at his hands. “just tell me if you need me to switch things up, okay?”
then he went back to work. this time he steadily worked two fingers into you, and you knew without a shred of doubt that you were positively ruined. they were long and thick, much more compared to yours; you would probably feel his cock for days to come.
you could feel yourself devolving into pure madness. jaehyun’s fingers were working you open at the same time his tongue flicked over your clit, and you could hardly keep still, your body convulsing every which way. if not for how tight his hands were around your trembling thighs, you wouldn’t have been able to keep them spread for him.
“daddy, please don’t stop. i think i’m gonna come,” you said between quick pants.
“i know, baby girl. just relax for me.”
with every nerve in your body going haywire, you felt anything but relaxed. between your thudding heartbeat and the ecstasy shooting its way through your spine, your body was bursting at the seams with fervor. but you tried for him. you couldn’t think, at least. there was too much physical stimulation to allow for passing thoughts.
jaehyun only had only goal in mind and that was to make you feel nothing short of the absolute peak of pleasure. he could see what things your body was responding to best and he took advantage of every reaction you had to offer, twisting his tongue the way you so clearly loved.
you couldn’t handle it anymore, and something within you snapped; you cried out, back arching off your fluffy pink bed, jaemin and the stupid stuffed toys the furthest thing on your mind as warmth fluttered in your stomach.
“that’s it, doll,” jaehyun crooned. “you’re okay, baby. i promise. just let go.”
all the while, his fingers didn’t stop as he spoke. they kept moving as he assured you between gentle kisses to your thighs, almost as restless as your entire body was. “daddy,” you whimpered, thoroughly wrecked.
“i know,” jaehyun whispered, lips flush against your skin. “you did so good, doll. so good for me.”
jaehyun got up from his knees and draped himself over your body, leaning down to kiss you breathless. though you tried to ignore it, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you and just the feeling itself was mouthwatering.
“so perfect,” jaehyun murmured, pulling back to pepper kisses down your jaw. “did you really think daddy wasn’t gonna make sure his doll was taken care of?”
you had nothing to say, so you just watched him begin to peel off what was left of both of your clothes, piece by piece. when you completely naked, you noticed jaehyun’s unbudging eyes stuck to your figure. “do you think i’m pretty, daddy?” you asked with a smile.
“pretty?” he murmured, brows stitched in amazement. “you’re… you’re beautiful, doll. don’t you forget it.”
you wanted to hear him say that a thousand times over.
even as jaehyun moved to reposition himself between your legs, you could hardly believe that this was actually - genuinely - happening. but every touch of his body had felt so real, and you’d dreamed of moments like this enough to know the difference. giving you one last chance to back out, jaehyun asked, “are you sure you want to do this, baby?”
“please,” you begged. the brushing of his tip against your slick folds made your mouth run dry. “i need it. i need you.”
that was all it took for jaehyun to push inside you, slow and steady as ever. you sucked in a breath, your hands already clenching the sheets again as he coaxed the head of his cock deeper inside your sticky cunt.
“oh my god,” you gasped out.
jaehyun chuckled. “i’m barely inside you, baby.”
you knew that, but the feeling of him inside you even this far was enough to make your mind unravel. you’d imagined that it would be a tight fit, but despite him preparing you to take him, that seemed like an understatement. though you were nothing if not purely determined. you would take all of him, no matter how long it took.
jaehyun’s brows furrowed the deeper he sunk into you, his jaw slacked. “god, you’re so tight,” he murmured. to jaehyun, this was the moment that cemented everything into reality, the moment that made everything true. the tight, wet feel of you stretching around his cock as he moved deeper and deeper was too insane to be imagined even if he tried. and he had tried.
your chest and core fluttered at the compliment. you enjoyed the praise. knowing that you were satisfying him, that you were pleasuring him the way he was pleasuring you, was something that filled you with an immense sense of accomplishment. there was nothing you wanted more than to serve him, than to be his girl.
jaehyun took his time, still hardly moving. every time he heard you abruptly suck in a gasp, his hips ground to a stop, wanting to give you time to adjust. he knew better than anyone that he wasn’t lacking in the size category, and the last thing he wanted was to make his sweet girl’s first time uncomfortable. for the right reasons, he wanted to give you a time to remember.
“do you need a minute, doll?” he asked, one brow lifted as he glanced down at you.
you shook your head. “no, it’s okay. you can keep going.”
“you sure?” he pressed. it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t dying to move even deeper, but not at your expense.
not to mention that your mother probably wouldn’t return until after midnight, but that was another conversation.
“i’m sure, daddy,” you replied, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. you didn’t want him to look away. “don’t stop.”
“fuck,” jaehyun groaned. you watched his lips part with the noise and felt his cock become buried further inside your cunt, working you open for him. he was taking his sweet time, because you both knew that if he was going to destroy you, he was going to make every second of it count.
“daddy, are you almost done?” you asked quietly.
“halfway, babe,” jaehyun told you.
you gawked. “halfway?”
jaehyun shushed you with a kiss, pushing himself yet another inch within your heat. he couldn’t wrap his mind around how perfect you felt around his cock and he wasn’t even fully seated inside you yet. you tried to focus on the way his lips moved against yours, but not even that could distract you from how he was stretching you out beyond belief.
“daddy, you’re so big,” you whined.
“i know, baby girl,” jaehyun replied softly, a hint of guilt on his face. “almost there, i promise. does it hurt?”
“a little bit,” you admitted. “but i can take it.”
jaehyun swept his finger over your bottom lip. “you sure, baby?”
you nodded your head. for him, you were convinced that you could do anything. and on top of that, there were no bounds to the things that you would do for him.
when jaehyun’s length had finally penetrated you to the very end, he stilled again, giving you a moment to recover before he started. it felt like an eternity before he actually moved, but when you gave him a nod of approval, he slowly drew back and penetrated you again. you were at a lost for words. nothing had ever been inside you that deeply. there were your fingers and maybe a hair brush, but neither rivaled the depth of your stepfather’s thick cock as he began to take you like you were his.
because you were.
“jesus christ,” jaehyun hissed. “you feel so good, doll. do you know that?”
“you feel good too,” you stammered out.
jaehyun took that as a sign that he was doing everything right, which was more than enough for him to relax. his mind was reeling. the mere wet sound of your skin meeting was making him lose control, and that was to say nothing of your pretty moans. the way you desperately called out for him was almost too much to bear.
you reciprocated his feelings. with every deep, guttural grunt that escaped jaehyun’s mouth, your body was less and less yours. he owned you, head to toe, inside out. you were more than prepared to surrender everything to him, to let him claim all that you were. because you relied on him. you needed him. and little did you know, in some twisted way, he needed you even more.
jaehyun’s hands were balled at your sides, clenching the sheets fiercely. he dreaded hurting you, but imagine his surprise when you grabbed a hold of his hands and redirected them to your perfect hips. “you can hold me, daddy,” you reassured him. “please. i won’t break.”
and even if you did, you were willing to let him put you back together. jaehyun could feel whatever remained of his restraint crumbling into pieces, and he held your hips in his palms tightly, his eyes boring into yours. his gaze, as relentless as it was, wasn’t challenging; it was piercing, loving, understanding. he saw you, he knew you, because you were familiar. you were what kept him whole.
something made jaehyun hold you even tighter. there was a thought that struck him. you needed him to take care of you, to depend upon, to guide you. and he needed you to bring back a purpose which was unfairly stolen from him. he knew it was wrong, that it was sick, but it couldn’t be helped. you had become everything to him, and there was no way in hell he was going to let that go.
“i need you,” he panted, his hips keeping a comfortable pace that you seemed to enjoy, judging from how you continued to throb and moan. “i need you so much, doll. you don’t understand.”
you shook your head, arms wrapped around his neck. you wanted to be inseparably close. “i do understand, daddy,” you insisted. “i need you too.”
jaehyun felt heat surging through his stomach. he said your name. “i love you.”
your lips curled into a smile. your body shook with rapture, so much that you thought you could cry. “i love you too, daddy. i love you so much. i’d let you have me whenever. i’m yours and i wanna take care of you.”
“mine?” jaehyun repeated, so quietly it could have gone unheard if not for how close his face was to yours.
you nodded your head.
jaehyun prodded, “all mine? and not that stupid little boy you call a boyfriend?”
the mere mention of jaemin made you feel disgust and you knew that you were over him, for good. “won’t see him anymore, daddy. i promise. i never wanted him. i always really just wanted you.”
jaehyun didn’t even bother willing himself to keep calm after he heard you say that. he was insane about you and he didn’t care to hide it anymore. “always?” he repeated.
you hummed. “the first time i came was on that bunny rabbit right there.” you turned your head to gesture towards the stuffed animal.
jaehyun saw it and his eyes darkened as he pictured you mounting the poor bunny, grinding your hips against it as you wished and hoped and prayed it’d soon enough be him bringing you pleasure. he wondered exactly how many times you had used it. how many times you had thought of him.
you cried out as his hips began slap against yours faster, but you took it. jaehyun wasn’t particularly rough, but each thrust drove you closer to insanity than the last. wrapping your legs around your waist, you drew him closer, your arms around his neck and his big hands firm at your hips. “fuck,” you stammered.
“you think about me a lot?” jaehyun asked.
you nodded your head eagerly. “yes, all the time!”
jaehyun was unrelenting. he lowered his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, before he let it fall and pressed, “how much do you think about me?”
“every day,” you told him honestly. “there’s not one day… where i don’t.”
“every day?” jaehyun repeated. “you think about me fucking you every day?”
“sometimes i dream about it,” you confessed.
jaehyun groaned. he had dreamed of you too. he had constantly tried not to think about you in that light, but he couldn’t help what he dreamed of. “i dream about you too,” he whispered. “of making love to you and fucking you full of my cum. will you let me, doll?”
“yes,” you answered him without a second of hesitation. “please, daddy. come inside me!”
jaehyun almost came just from hearing those words, but he couldn’t yet. not before he felt you tighten around his cock with climax. removing his hand from his hip, he began to toy with your sensitive clit, eager and desperate to make you come, to see you come, to feel you come.
your body arched into his hand, knowing who its owner was and willing to submit to his every whim. it felt like your mind was floating somewhere between earth and heaven, lost in space where there was no life, no time. only infinity.
it wasn’t long before your vision brightened white and you swore you could see every star. your legs tightened their grip around his waist as you shuddered with ecstasy, and your mouth hung open as you moaned.
the sensation of your cunt gushing tightly around him as you orgasmed made jaehyun moan himself, and you listened to the sounds of your heat kneading his cock as he used your cunt to push himself to the end. it had felt so good to you too; having something to grip on as you came made the experience all that much better.
“come for me, daddy,” you said, trying to coax the orgasm out of him. “come inside your doll… i need it.”
that did it. hearing you referring to yourself as his doll sent him completely over the edge and you gasped out loud when you felt jaehyun dumping his thick, sticky hot load into your cunt with the deepest grunt of your name. it was so good, so warm. you held eye contact with him the entire time, not once daring to look away even as his hips slowed to a stop.
for a long moment, you both simply lay there in each other’s arms, neither of you wanting to move when you were this close. but you did pull him in for another heated kiss, because you couldn’t think of another way to somehow bring yourself even closer. jaehyun kissed you back passionately, holding your body against his protectively, almost as if he was afraid you’d be taken from him too.
you thought nothing could ruin the moment. then, out of the blue, your phone rang. you and jaehyun both let out a collective sigh of exasperation and you withdrew to peak at your phone on your nightstand, wholeheartedly expecting it to be your mother.
your eyes went wide when you saw that it was jaemin.
and you wouldn’t have answered it, but you needed to call it quits anyway. though you initially planned to meet him in person, in that moment, you decided he didn’t deserve to see you again in his life. “hello?” you answered.
“baby, you picked up,” jaemin said, sounding amazed. “listen to me, baby. i’m so sorry i haven’t been answering your calls. i just needed some space, you understand that, right?”
before he could utter another word, the phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. “don’t call my daughter again, or i swear to god, i will find you, and then i will fuck you up,” jaehyun hissed.
he hung up without another word and tossed the phone to the side.
you gawked at his words, but you both felt the way you’d throbbed. “daddy!”
“quiet,” jaehyun said, withdrawing from inside you. “now show me what you did to the bunny.”
pairing: brother's best friend!haechan x fem. reader
genre: smut, bit of crack
wc: 7k
summary: you send a spicy photo to the wrong lee and suddenly your brother's best friend is at your door with mulled wine and a space heater talking about "keeping you warm"
content warnings: christmas/holidays setting, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, accidental sexting, mild language/profanity, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, lingerie kink, references to bruising/scratches from sex, banter & relentless teasing, mild reference to soreness/discomfort, hae is actually a simp and down bad, reader is a bit of a tsundere lowk, the bells stayed ON during sex
a/n: merry xmas besties !! accept this last min gift from me because i honestly don’t know how to thank you enough for all the love this year. ngl this was definitely a bit rushed bc i wanted to post it on time for xmas so it is pretty fast paced. also, if you spot any mistakes lmk i will fix them eventually hehe. anyways enjoy!! ps: take a shot for every time you see the words "jingle bells" lol
There is a strange calm that comes over the city on Christmas Eve. Fewer cars line the roads, lights go out behind shop windows, and it seems as though all the apartments in your street have the same deep orange glow, as if the city has put a blanket around itself and turned on a reading light.
Your place is a different story altogether.
The heater has given up on you yet another winter, and you exist in thick socks and oversized sweaters for the duration, fogging the air with your breath as if you’re holidaying in a downbeat ski lodge rather than your zone 2 apartment.
Your mother has already called three times, each a frantic ninety-second sprint through holiday plans: Will you bring the extra chairs? Are you still pescatarian, or just being difficult about red meat? Can you pick up the right cranberry sauce, you know the one in the glass jar, not the jellied monstrosity from the tin?
You agree to everything, phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder, trying to sound composed while your teeth threaten to chatter. You’re still perched on your bed, half-naked. Your thighs and shoulders ache with cold, and you’re painfully aware of every square inch of exposed skin.
Not ten minutes ago, you’d spent the better part of an hour contorting into increasingly improbable angles in red lace and utterly humiliating jingle bells, all in the name of looking effortless for Jeno, of course.
Jeno: there’s a name your pulse seems to know better than your own. Three months of teasing pictures from him post-workout, with nothing but a towel slung over his hips so his abs take center stage. The subtext has never been subtle. Tonight you’d planned to stop being subtle in return.
Now, while your mom lists off a litany of tasks, you’re scrolling through chats ready to finally send the photo that’s taken nearly an hour (and a year’s worth of courage) to create. The cold had made the whole thing an endurance exercise, goosebumps rippling over your arms as you tried to ignore how the bells jingled with every movement. The best photo sits ready on your screen, the last thing you snapped before your mom’s ringtone interrupted.
She’s still talking about napkin colors, whether the buses are still running, and remindng you to bring nice pajamas for the inevitable Christmas morning photos. You’re only half listening as you thumb out a quick “Merry Christmas x”, attach the photo, and press send, so practiced in the gesture you don’t bother double checking.
There’s a satisfying whoosh.
Then your blood runs cold when you read the name at the top of the chat.
Lee Haechan.
Not Lee Jeno.
Not the man with gym selfies who’s been circling your DMs like a hawk.
No. You’ve just sent a very curated, very intimate, very jingling photo of yourself to Lee fucking Haechan—your brother’s best friend. Eternal nuisance. Long-time gremlin. The boy who once told your crush that you still slept with a stuffed animal named Mr. Toast when you were fifteen.
The phone buzzes in your hand.
Haechan: holy. shit.
Haechan: is this what you’re wearing to dinner tomorrow or…?
Your mother's voice becomes white noise as you watch those messages appear. The phone nearly slips from your suddenly nerveless fingers.
"—and don't forget the wine, the Pinot Grigio not the Sauvignon Blanc, you know how your father gets about—"
"Mom, I have to go," you interrupt, voice strangled and hysterical. "Emergency."
"What emergency, dear—"
You hang up. She'll forgive you eventually, probably after three glasses of the wrong wine, but right now you have bigger problems. Catastrophically bigger problems.
You: THAT WASN'T FOR YOU
You: DELETE IT
You: DELETE IT RIGHT NOW
You: HAECHAN I SWEAR TO GOD
The typing bubble appears immediately.
Haechan: you know, when you said you were bringing dessert tomorrow
Haechan: i assumed you meant cookies or something
You're going to die. Actually, physically die. In your freezing apartment, still wearing the stupid lingerie.
You: it was meant for someone else
You: obviously
You: please just delete it and we never speak of this again
Haechan: someone else???
Haechan: so you’re just spreading holiday cheer randomly
Haechan: i'm devastated
Your apartment feels even colder now, or maybe that's just the mortification freezing you from the inside out. You scramble for your oversized sweater, yanking it over your head while trying to type one-handed.
You: this isn't funny
Haechan: it's a little funny
Haechan: do i say thank you? is this a secret santa thing?
You: how much
Haechan: ?
You: how much money to pretend this never happened
You: name your price
You can practically see him in his apartment, probably sprawled on his sofa in those ratty joggers he refuses to throw away, grinning at his phone in glory.
Haechan: bold of you to assume i can be bought
Haechan: but also
Haechan: 50 dollars
You: done
Haechan: per day
You: WHAT
Haechan: do you want my silence or not
Haechan: this is premium blackmail material
Haechan: i could dine out on this story for years
You pull the sweater down properly, the wool scratching against your skin where the lace still sits underneath. He's literally coming to your parents' house tomorrow for Christmas. You'll have to sit across from him at dinner, pass him the potatoes, pretend everything's normal while he knows exactly what you look like under your ugly sweater.
Haechan: although i'm curious
Haechan: who's the lucky recipient supposed to be
Haechan: anyone i know?
You: none of your business
Haechan: it literally became my business
Haechan: when you made it my business
Your phone starts ringing. His contact photo fills the screen with that stupid selfie he'd taken with your phone on Mark’s birthday last year, mouth full of roast potato, eyes crossed. You'd never bothered to change it.
You decline the call.
He rings again immediately.
"What," you answer through gritted teeth, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to conserve what little body heat you have left.
"You sound cold," is the first thing he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
"My heating's broken."
"Again? Y/N, it's literally freezing."
"Yes, well, I've had other concerns tonight."
He laughs and you can tell he’s delighted by the sounds of it. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all year."
"I'm so glad my humiliation brings you joy."
"I wouldn’t call it humiliation," he says. "More like... revelation."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I didn't know you owned anything that wasn't either stolen from your brother or three sizes too big."
You pull the sweater over your knees. "I contain multitudes."
"Clearly." There's a rustling on his end, like he's shifting position. "So who's the guy?"
"I told you it's none of your business."
"Come on, I'm going to find out anyway. Your mom tells me everything."
He's right, which is infuriating. Your mother treats Haechan like the son she never had, even though she literally has two sons already.
"It's just someone from class," you mumble.
"That Jino guy? The one who looks like he irons his underwear?"
"No." You lie. Another con from knowing Haechan for that long is that he knows most of your situationships.
"Thank god. I was concerned about your taste."
"My taste is fine."
"Debatable, considering you just sent me—"
"That was an accident!"
"A fortunate one," he says.
You're about to respond when your phone buzzes with another message. For one horrible moment you think it's Jeno, somehow cosmically aware of your failure, but it's worse.
Mum: Did you hang up on me?
Mum: Haechan says he'll pick you up tomorrow since the buses aren't running
Mum: So helpful, that boy
"Did you just text my mother?" you accuse.
"She texted me first. Apparently you're being difficult about the wine."
"I hung up because I was having a crisis!"
"Past tense? Crisis over?"
You look down at yourself in the giant sweater, exposed legs slowly turning blue, hair probably resembling something from a horror film. "No, it's very much ongoing."
"Want me to come over?"
The question catches you off guard. "What?"
"Your heating's broken, it's Christmas Eve, and you sound pathetic. I'll bring mulled wine."
"Absolutely not."
"I'll even delete the photo."
You pause. "Really?"
"I don’t know, but you can try to convince me."
"I hate you." You groan.
"I know," he says, and you can hear keys jingling on his end. "See you in twenty."
"Haechan, no—"
He hangs up.
You gape at your phone in disbelief. This night has already careened so far off the rails that him showing up feels almost inevitable.
You look around your freezing apartment, at the poorly decorated tree leaning precariously in the corner, at the mountain of unwrapped presents for tomorrow, at yourself in your ridiculous combination of grandma sweater and inadvertent festive lingerie.
Your phone buzzes once more.
Haechan: might want to put on some pants before i get there
You pad to your bedroom, feet freezing on the hardwood floors, and catch sight of yourself in the mirror. The sweater hits mid-thigh, the red lace barely visible underneath, and your face has a flush that comes from both the cold and mortification.
The bells jingle mockingly as you search for pants.
You manage to find a pair of shorts and yank them on just as your doorbell rings. The man has never been on time for anything in his life except, apparently, your personal disasters.
You check the peephole and immediately groan. He’s standing there in a perfectly tailored coat, scarf knotted at his throat, holding what looks like two bottles of wine and a carrier bag, looking infuriatingly put-together for someone who just invited himself over at half nine on Christmas Eve. There’s a glint in his eye that you recognize all too well. He’s about to make your life miserable.
“I can see your shadow under the door,” he calls. “Just let me in before your neighbors think I’m casing the place.”
You open the door, and he breezes past you, bringing a swirl of cold air and the scent of cinnamon and clove. He sets everything on your counter, shakes snow from his hair and surveys your living room.
“Christ, it’s colder in here than outside,” he says, setting down the wine. “How are you not dead?”
“Layers,” you mutter, though the truth is you’ve barely stopped shivering since your little photo shoot. He starts unpacking his bag: two bottles of red, a battered thermos emanating the smell of mulled wine, a packet of mince pies, and—
“Is that a space heater?”
“Borrowed it from my next door neighbor.” He’s already crouched by the outlet, plugging it in and aiming it at the sofa. “He has his girlfriend over, so he won’t need this.”
You roll your eyes at his suggestive tone.
“Plus he felt bad when I told him about your situation.”
“You told him?”
“Relax, I meant your heating situation. Not your…” He glances at you, eyes skimming a bit too long over your form, “…other situation.”
You tug your sweater lower, warmth prickling up your chest for a different reason now. “Stop saying situation.”
“Would you prefer predicament? Circumstance? Mistake?”
“I’d prefer you forget it ever happened.”
He fiddles with the heater settings, then stands and looks at you.
“Bit difficult, that,” he says.
“Why?”
He turns away, busying himself with the wine. “Because in all the years I’ve known you, that’s the first time you’ve ever texted me something that wasn’t a complaint or a threat.”
“That’s not—” You cut yourself off, frowning. “... True.”
He grins, handing you a mug which you take with a scowl.
“Come on. You’re shivering over there.” He sits, patting the spot beside him.
You hesitate, but the heater and the wine conspire against your self-control, and you find yourself sitting next to him, careful to keep a gap. You wrap your hands around the mug, breathing in the spiced steam as the heat seeps into your frozen fingers.
“So,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Want to see something funny?”
“If it’s the photo—”
“No.” He scrolls. “It’s Jino—”
“Jeno”
“—whatever. His Instagram.” He tilts the screen your way. Row after row of gym selfies, every caption worse than the last.
“‘Grind never stops,’” you read, making a face. “‘Discipline is my love language.’ Oh my god.”
“That’s who you were sending nu—” he gestures, one eyebrow raised.
“Festive greetings. Shut up.”
He grins, holding the phone just out of reach when you lunge. “‘Muscles are built in the kitchen’? Come on, Y/N.”
“He’s nice!”
“He refers to himself as an alpha unironically.”
“How do you even—” You scramble closer, grabbing for the phone, nearly spilling your wine. The movement makes the bells under your sweater jingle faintly, and you freeze, feeling a flush creep up your neck.
“You're still wearing it?” His voice drops half an octave.
You freeze, caught like a goddamn rabbit under a hawk’s shadow. “I forgot it was there,” you lie.
He lets out a soft laugh. Not his usual smug, shit-eating grin. Darker.
“Yeah?” he says. “You forgot you’re sitting next to me in fucking lingerie?”
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. There was nothing to say.
He says nothing either, elbow on the back of the sofa, wine in one hand, and staring intently. His eyes drag across your face, your flushed cheeks, down to where your sweater bunches at your thighs, as if he could see the garter strap underneath. Like he remembered exactly what was in that photo, and now he was imagining it all over again—except this time, two feet away.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair and looking away.
You want to make a joke, deflect, do anything besides sit there.
“Stop,” you say quietly, when he tilts his head and opens his mouth again. “Don’t make this into something.”
“Make what into something?” he asks, far too innocent.
“This. The... situation.”
His smile is sharp. “You mean the one you told me to stop saying out loud?”
You put your mug down before your hands could betray how hard they were shaking. “Yes.”
He glances at your knees. Then at your fucking sweater again, and the way you were pulling it lower, as if it could somehow shield you from how naked the air between you had become.
“Okay,” he says, sitting up, setting his own wine down. “Let’s not make it into something. Let’s just sit here, like we’re normal people, sharing some warm wine by a borrowed space heater. Let’s not talk about the fact that you’re wearing lingerie underneath that. Let’s pretend I didn’t spend the entire ride here wondering what the fuck I was walking into.”
You swallow. “You came over to make sure I didn’t embarrass myself further.”
He smiles.
“No,” he says. “I came over because I couldn’t stop picturing it. Because every time I blinked, it was just you, in that red fucking lace.”
A silent gasp leaves your parted lips. What’s with the sudden tension? Why is he saying these things?
“And then I get here,” he continues, “and you open the door like nothing and you’ve got this little sweater on, acting all flustered and innocent. Meanwhile—” his eyes drop again, “—you’re jingling every time you move. Teasing me.”
“Stop,” you say. Your voice doesn’t sound like your own.
“Why?” he asks, leaning forward now, elbows on knees. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine. But I’m losing my goddamn mind, and you're pretending this is some kind of accident.”
“It was.”
“You didn’t take that picture by accident. You didn’t pick out that set by accident. You didn’t forget to change.”
Haechan's gaze sharpens, pinning you in place as he leans back against the cushions. His eyes flick downward, catching the subtle movement under your sweater, and a smirk curled his lips.
The wine buzzes in your head, turning his words from mortifying to... intriguing. You feel a spark of defiance ignite, the alcohol stripping away your usual hesitation. Instead of shrinking, you meet his stare, tilting your chin up just a fraction. “What if I didn't forget,” you say, your voice steadier than you expected. You uncross your legs, letting the bells chime once more. You watch as his smirk falters for a split second, his pupils dilating.
Before you realize, he’s shifting closer until his knee presses against yours, the heat of his body radiates through his jeans. “Oh yeah?” Haechan's tone dips lower, teasing, turning predatory as his fingers brush the hem of your sweater, tracing the edge where it meets your thigh.
“So you sent me that photo on purpose, so I could what? Imagine peeling it off you all night?” His thumb grazed the skin just above your knee, circling slowly, sending sparks up your leg.
Emboldened by the alcohol’s warmth spreading through you, you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in a little, your hand resting on his thigh, fingers pressing into the firm muscle there.
“Maybe” you whisper, the alcohol making your inhibitions dissolve like sugar in hot liquid. You can feel the dampness building between your folds, the thong growing slick as his words paint vivid pictures in your mind.
Haechan's eyes darken, his free hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at the nape of your neck.
“Then you're playing a dangerous game.” His breath is warm against your skin as he leans closer. He tugs gently at the collar of your sweater, exposing the strap of your bra, the lace edge peeking out.
The heater drones, the bells jingle, and for a suspended, ridiculous instant you register every outrageous detail at once: Haechan’s palm splayed hot over your ribcage, the hiss of his breath against your sternum, him moving to kneel between your legs.
“Wanna play Monopoly instead then?” you blurt, because your default coping mechanism is apparently panicked jokes while half-naked.
He huffs a laugh against your skin, mouth still hovering indecent inches from your bra. “Pretty sure you I’d bankrupt you in ten moves.” His thumbs stroke slow circles over the lace, coaxing goose-bumps you feel all the way down to your calves. “And I’m more of a chess man anyway. I like long games.”
Long games. Wonderful.
You plant a shaky hand on his shoulder and manage a breathy, “You’re terrible at chess. You always forget the knights move in L-shapes.”
“Correction.” He kisses the edge of the bra, voice muffled. “I know exactly how the knights move. I just prefer a—” another kiss, lower, “—more aggressive opening.”
God. “Aggressive openings are u-unnecessary.”
“I can be patient.” He nips your sternum lightly, then leans back just far enough that cool air hits the damp spot his mouth left behind. “Though my patience has limits.”
You intend to reply but the sight of him kneeling between your knees steals the alphabet from your tongue. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown, but there’s wicked amusement still glinting at the edges.
He runs a fingertip down the center of your stomach, like marking squares on a board. “Here’s the thing… Every time these bells go off”—he flicks one, soft chime echoing—“I’m picturing exactly how you looked in that photo. Except now you’re warm under my hands”
“That’s… not helping,” you manage, hips tipping forward of their own accord. The bell rings again and he hums approval deep in his chest, as if the sound feeds him.
“Wasn’t trying to.” He nudges your knees wider, the gesture almost gentlemanly, except for the promise simmering beneath. “But since you’re so invested in fair play—”
He slips his free hand behind his neck, drags his scarf loose, then shrugs the coat off with theatrical slowness. Button by button, layer by layer, until the sofa swallows the fabric and he’s stripped to a black T-shirt that clings to lean muscle. You swallow. Hard.
“Your move,” he murmurs. “Want me to stop?”
It’s a genuine offer, a clear exit, but you can’t drag your gaze from the vein flexing in his forearm, can’t ignore the ache blooming low every time your garter shifts.
Instead of answering, you hook your fingers under the hem of your sweater and tug. Cool air kisses your ribcage, then warmer air, then Haechan’s stare, molten and adoring all at once. His lips part on a silent expletive.
“Shit—” He runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Definitely a dangerous game.”
He stares at the red lace hugging your breasts, squishing them together so deliciously they seem about ready to burst from the confinement. The sight is a million times better than in the picture.
He leans in again, one palm settling on your knee, sliding upward with delicious inevitability.
“I thought you were a skilled player, show me then.” You breathe, and if he was restraining himself before, the words shred the leash.
He’s on you in a second, mouth reclaiming your lips, tongue tracing the seam until you open willingly, hungrily. His other hand skates up your spine, pushing you closer to him.
When he pulls back, both of you are gasping. “You realize,” he says, thumb brushing your kiss-swollen bottom lip, “there’s no walking this back.”
You catch the thumb with your teeth, bite just hard enough to watch his eyes flare. “Then let’s walk it forward.”
His laugh is low, reverent, almost incredulous. “Forward it is.”
He coaxes you onto your back, clothes discarded beside the lingerie, bells chiming faint approval.
“These bells,” he murmurs, thumb dragging against your skin, “are ridiculous.”
Your hand slides up his thigh, brushing the growing bulge in his jeans. “Don’t act like you don’t like them now.”
He inhales sharply, and his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek like he’s fighting a smile.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice rough with desire. “Keep that up, and I won't be able to stop at just teasing.” He hooks a finger under the garter, snapping it lightly against your skin.
You press your palm flat against his erection, feeling it twitch under the denim. “Who said I want you to stop?” you shoot back, your words slurring just a touch from the alcohol, but laced with intent.
The bells jingle as you move closer, your free hand tugging at his shirt to pull him toward you.
Haechan's control cracks then. He captures your mouth in a fierce kiss again, his tongue sweeping in to claim yours, tasting of spiced wine.
His hand delves under your sweater, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, then up to cup your breast through the lace bra, thumb rolling over your hardening nipple.
You moan into his mouth, arching into his touch. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck and nips at the sensitive skin while his other hand plays with the garter belt and the bells that dangle teasingly.
“These are fucking distracting,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his fingers plucking at one bell, making it ring out as he kisses lower, his mouth hovering over the swell of your breast. He tugs the bra cup down, latching onto your nipple with a wet suck that draws a sharp cry from you.
Your hands fumble with his belt. Boldness surges as you pop the button on his jeans and slide your hand inside to wrap around his thickening cock. He feels hot and hard in your grip, the veins pulsing under your fingers. You stroke him slowly, matching the rhythm of his mouth on your breast.
“Shit, yes,” Haechan groans, his hips bucking into your hand. He releases your nipple with a pop, his eyes locking on yours, wild and intense. “You're full of surprises tonight. That wine’s turning my good girl into a tease.”
He pushes you back against the sofa cushions, his body covering yours as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his fingers slipping between your thighs. They brush the edge of your thong, finding the soaked lace clinging to your core.
“So fucking wet already,” he teases, rubbing slow circles over your clit through the fabric. You grind against his hand, feeling bolder still, your free hand tangling in his hair to pull him closer.
“More,” you demand breathily, the wine stripping away any shyness. Haechan chuckles darkly, slipping the thong aside to trace your slick folds with two fingers, spreading your wetness without entering you yet.
He teases your entrance, while his thumb presses firmly on your clit, building the pressure until your thighs quiver. The bells ring out in a frantic melody as you writhe, your strokes on his cock growing faster.
He captures your wrist gently, pulling your hand away just enough to shed his shirt, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. Then he kneels between your legs again, hooking his fingers on the edges of the thong and pulling it properly to the side.
“Let's hear those bells one more time,” he says with a wicked grin, positioning you so your legs drape over his shoulders. His mouth descends, tongue flicking out to lap at your clit in long strokes, while his hands grip your ass, thumbs parting your cheeks slightly for better access.
You cry out, nails digging into the sofa, feeling every wet slide of his tongue, every suck that makes you clench around him. He delves lower, tongue thrusting into your entrance, fucking you with it shallowly as his nose bumps your clit. The tension coils tighter, your boldness shining through as you rock against his face.
“Haechan… don’t stop,” you gasp, one hand reaching down to tangle in his hair.
He growls in approval, the vibration sending jolts through you. Rising up, he frees his cock fully, stroking it once as he lines up with your dripping pussy. “You want this? All of me?” he asks, rubbing the head along your folds, coating himself in your arousal, prolonging the tease.
“Yes, please!” you urge, guiding him in with your hips.
He thrusts forward slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching you until he bottoms out, both of you groaning at the fullness. He pauses there, his hips flush against yours, letting you adjust to the thick length.
His eyes lock on yours, dark and intense, as he rolls his hips in a slow circle, grinding against your inner walls and brushing your clit with his pubic bone.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmurs, voice rough, before pulling back almost all the way out, the drag of his cock against your sensitive spots making you whimper.
He slams back in with a sharp thrust, the impact jolting the sofa and setting the bells to a sharp chime. You arch up, meeting him, your hands clutching his shoulders as he finds a steady rhythm of deep, measured strokes that have him withdrawing to the tip before plunging back in.
The pace builds gradually, his hands sliding under your ass to lift you slightly, changing the angle so he hits that spot deeper inside you with every push. You moan loudly, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, urging him deeper. Sweat beads on his chest, glistening under the Christmas lights, and you can’t resist leaning up to lick a stripe across his collarbone, tasting the salt of him. He groans in response and speeds up, his thrusts turning harder, more insistent.
“Like that? Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he pants, one hand moving to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he fucks into you relentlessly.
The coil in your belly tightens, pleasure sparking with each grind, but it still isn’t enough. You need more, the edge hovering just out of reach. You buck your hips up to meet his, clenching around him deliberately, drawing a hiss from his lips.
“God, yes—keep doing that,” he demands, shifting his weight to hook one of your legs over his arm, opening you wider. This new position lets him drive even deeper, his cock stretching you to the limit with every brutal snap of his hips.
The sofa creaks beneath you, the bells a constant, erotic soundtrack, and you feel the pressure building, layer by layer, as he alternates between fast, shallow pumps that tease your entrance and long, slow drags that fill you utterly.
Your breaths come in gasps, bodies slick and sliding together, the room filling with the obscene sounds of your coupling, the squelch of your pussy gripping him, his grunts mingling with your cries. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he swallows your moans. Breaking away, he nips at your jaw, your neck, marking you with light bites while his free hand slips between your bodies to rub firm circles on your clit.
The dual sensation pushes you closer, your walls fluttering around his pistoning cock. “Haechan, I’m—fuck,” you whine, nails raking down his back and leaving red trails that make him thrust even harder in response.
He is close too—you can tell from the way his rhythm falters, his cock twitching inside you—but he is holding back, drawing it out, wanting to shatter you first.
“Come on, baby, let go for me,” he urges, voice strained, his fingers working your clit faster now, matching the relentless pace of his hips.
The bells chime wildly as your body tenses, the orgasm cresting slowly at first, then exploding in a rush that has you screaming his name. Your cunt clamps down hard, spasming in rhythmic pulses that milk his cock. Waves of ecstasy rip through you, making your vision blur and toes curl.
He follows seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a final, deep thrust, his release flooding you in hot spurts. “Shit—yes,” he groans, body shuddering as he pumps through it, prolonging both your highs until he has nothing left.
Only then does he collapse beside you, both of you panting, chests heaving. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your thigh, and the bells are finally quiet.
You wake up to several immediate regrets:
1. Your muscles are screaming in an everything-hurts-and-I-know-exactly-why kind of way.
2. Haechan is humming "All I Want for Christmas Is You" in your kitchen way too cheerfully for someone responsible for your inability to sit cross-legged ever again.
3. The bells are still on your floor, glinting like mocking little ghosts of choices past.
"Stop that," you croak from the sofa, your voice demolished. Wrecked. A casualty of making sounds you didn't know you were capable of.
He appears in the doorway holding two mugs, wearing your "Grinch Don't Kill My Vibe" pajama pants that sit criminally low on his hips. "Morning, jingles."
"Do not."
"Bells."
"Haechan—"
"My little Christmas miracle." He's grinning now. "My festive angel. My—"
"I will throw this pillow at you."
"Didn't get enough violence last night?" He sets the mug down, dramatically rubbing his shoulder. "I think you bit me at one point."
You take a shirt from the floor (his shirt, you notice) and put it on, trying to look like someone who isn’t sore in muscles they didn't know existed. "I can't go to dinner. I'll die. I'll burst into flames at the door. My mother will take one look at me and know."
"Know what?"
"That I—that we—" You gesture helplessly between you.
"Had athletic, boundary-destroying sex that made you reconsider your stance on atheism?"
"I hate you."
"You really don't." He sips his coffee. "Your neighbors might, though. Pretty sure Mrs. Chen heard you calling me—"
You slap a hand over his mouth. He licks it. You shriek and wipe it on his chest.
"Also," he adds cheerfully, "I texted your mom. Told her we'd be late because you had a 'wardrobe emergency.'"
"A what?"
"Well, I couldn't say 'your daughter can't walk properly because I rearranged her spine,' could I?" He flops next to you on the sofa, bouncing once to make you wince. "Though technically, the emergency is that you're not wearing much of a wardrobe."
"HAECHAN."
Half an hour later, you’re sitting in his car, gripping the door handle like you're about to jump out at a red light. He's connected his phone to Bluetooth and is purposely playing "Jingle Bell Rock" at low volume.
"I will end you," you mutter.
"You already did. My back looks like I fought a tiger." He shows you a glimpse of the scratches behind his shoulder, looking far too proud. "How do I explain these? 'Oh, these? Y/N just really loves Christmas?'"
"Tell them you fell."
"Into what? A wood chipper?”
You didn’t dignify his attempt at a joke with a response, already feeling less than willing to express any kind of positive emotion in this supposed jolly day.
Truthfully, you were not upset at Haechan. You were upset with yourself for letting things get to this point, and even more for actually enjoying it to the point where you keep replaying every moment of it in your head.
Suddenly you’re pulling up at your parent’s driveway and Haechan is turning to you with dancing eyes. "Here we are! Ready?”
“No.”
“Too bad.” He leans closer. “Try not to make that face when your mother asks how we slept.”
"LALALA CAN'T HEAR YOU." You scramble out of the car.
Your mother opens the door before you reach it, and Haechan immediately transforms into the perfect guest.
"Mrs. Y/L/N! You look radiant! Is that a new apron?"
"Oh, Haechan, you charmer!" She's beaming, completely taken in. "Come in, come in!"
He follows you in, and as you pass, he whispers, "You're walking like a baby giraffe."
"And you're about to die," you hiss back.
Haechan has positioned himself directly across from you at the table, which was a mistake because now he's making eyes at you over the roast potatoes.
"So Haechan," your father starts, "how's work going?"
“Great, sir.” He keeps his voice spotless while rolling a green bean in gravy in the filthiest way imaginable. “Just got promoted.”
Your mother claps. “Y/N, did you know Haechan was promoted?”
“No,” you say flatly. “We don’t update each other on our lives. That would require me speaking to him voluntarily.”
"I don't like to brag," Haechan interrupts smoothly. "Y/N's been very supportive though. Very... hands-on with her support."
You kick him under the table. He catches your foot between his legs and holds it there.
"That's nice," your mother says. "You two have been getting along better lately."
Mark snorts into his wine. "Since when?"
"Oh, we're getting along great," Haechan agrees, running his thumb over your ankle. "Really found our rhythm, haven't we, Y/N?"
You're trying to pull your foot back but he's holding it hostage. "R--right. Yes."
"In fact," Haechan continues, now massaging your foot under the table while maintaining perfect eye contact with your father, the absolute sociopath, "just last night we were discussing how well we work together."
"You were?" Mark asks suspiciously.
"Yes," Haechan continues cheerfully, now eating mashed potatoes in a way that brings back vivid sense memories of his tongue doing things to you, "we had a very thorough discussion. Covered all the angles. Really got into it. Deep into it."
Your wine glass shakes as you set it down.
"Multiple positions," he adds thoughtfully. " I mean on the subject, different positions on the subject."
"What subject?" your father asks, bless his oblivious heart.
"Life," Haechan says philosophically. "Passion. The importance of... tension and release."
You stand so abruptly your chair screeches. "BATHROOM."
You’re standing by your mother’s frost-covered roses, pressing your cold fingers to your burning cheeks, trying to make sense of the last eighteen hours. The marks on your neck throb faintly. Your thighs still ache. And somewhere between last night and this morning, Lee Haechan has completely rewired your brain chemistry.
This is the same boy who put green food coloring in your shampoo and called you “Grinchey” two Christmases ago. Same one you’ve spent years cultivating a careful, sustained annoyance toward, like tending to a particularly bitter garden.
So why can’t you stop thinking about him?
“Plotting your escape?”
You jump. He’s standing there with two pieces of Christmas pudding, looking unfairly good in his stupid Christmas sweater, the one your mom bought him two years ago that he actually kept. You’d made fun of him for it then.
“Plotting your murder, actually.”
“Aw.” He holds out a plate. “Peace offering?”
You take it, careful not to let your fingers touch his. Can’t trust yourself anymore, apparently.
“What was all that ‘we found our rhythm’ crap?”
"We did, though." He takes a bite of pudding, considering. "We should try more next time."
You turn to glare at him, but he’s not looking at you with his usual teasing smirk. Instead, there’s something softer in his eyes that makes your stomach drop in a way that has nothing to do with last night’s activities.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing. Just…” He sets down his plate, runs a hand through his hair. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”
“Have sex on my broken sofa? Weird kink, but okay.”
“Y/N.” The way he says your name makes you look back. “I’m being serious.”
“Since when are you serious?”
“Since you walked into your parents’ house freshman year wearing that ridiculous reindeer onesie and told me my haircut looked like a hedgehog had died on my head.”
You blink. “That was ages ago.”
“Four years, three months, and roughly two weeks.” He’s studying the frozen roses now, purposefully not looking at you. “But who’s counting.”
“Why… why do you even remember that?”
He tilts his head, looking faintly amused at your confusion. “Why do you think?”
“…You’ve liked me since then…”
“Liked is a generous word for what I felt when you were being a pain in my ass.” He finally looks at you, and that vulnerability is back, the one that makes him look younger.
“But— but the girls you’ve dated are so different. I mean I’m not your type at all.”
“God you are so blind.” He chuckles incredulously.
Suddenly, you’re thinking about all the moments you’d dismissed. How he always brought your favorite snacks. How he remembered how you take your coffee and always made it better than anyone else. How he terrorized every guy you dated but played it off as "brotherly" concern.
“Oh my god,” you breathe. “You’re in love with me.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, trying for casual but failing entirely. “Surprise?”
“You’re in love with me and you let me send you that photo—”
“I mean it was an accident.”
“—and you came over and you brought wine and you fixed my heating—”
“Technically, I didn’t fix your heating—”
“—and then you fucked me on my sofa knowing you’ve been in love with me for FOUR YEARS?”
He winces. “When you put it like that, it sounds weird.”
“It sounds insane!” You’re pacing now, the pudding forgotten. “Who does that? Who just… sits on feelings for four years?”
“Someone whose best friend would murder them for touching his sister?” He catches your hand, stops your pacing. “Someone who was terrified of ruining the only excuse he had to see you? Someone who was willing to take whatever he could get, even if it was just annoying you at Christmas dinners?”
You stare at him. Past the jokes and the smugness and the playful torture. There’s Haechan, who drove over at 9 PM on Christmas Eve because your heating was broken. Who made sure you were warm and safe and… oh.
“I think I have feelings for you too,” you say, and it comes out accusatory. “Which is frankly inconvenient.”
His whole face changes. “Yeah?”
“I mean, I hated you twelve hours ago.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I strongly disliked you.”
“I don’t even think you believe that.”
“I…” You think about last night, how easy it was to let him in, how right it felt when he kissed you, how you’d wanted him to stay even after the sex. “You’re annoying and insufferable and you eat all my good snacks and—”
He kisses you, cutting off your spiral. Which you were secretly glad for because you were starting to miss his lips when they weren’t on yours. What the hell was happening?
“And?” he prompts against your lips.
“And I can’t stop thinking about you,” you admit. “Last night was… but even before that, you were everywhere. In my head. Under my skin. It’s extremely annoying.”
“Oh no,” he grins, “are you admitting you love me back?”
“I’m admitting you’re less horrible than anticipated.”
“Practically a declaration of love from you.” He pulls you closer, and you realize you’re not cold anymore. Haven’t been since he came outside.
"By the way, I still have your underwear in my bag."
"WHAT—"
He pulls back just enough to see your face. "Mark asked if I had a cat toy in there because of all the jingling."
"I'm taking everything I said back. And moving to Antarctica. I’m gonna be a penguin scientist."
"Penguins mate for life, you know."
"Not the kind I'll study. Mine will be commitment-phobic penguins."
He laughs softly and kisses you again. Soft and sure and nothing like last night's desperate heat. This is a promise kiss. A Sunday morning kiss. A forty-years-from-now kiss.
"Your family's taking bets," he murmurs against your lips, "on how long before we admit we're together. Your dad has Valentine's Day. Your mom's betting on New Year's. Mark, pessimistically, has next Christmas."
"And you?"
He grins, that playful grin that started this whole mess. "Oh, I already won."
"How?"
"Bet on Christmas Eve." He kisses you again softly. "I always had good timing."
From inside, Mark's voice carries: "ARE THEY KISSING?"
Your mother's response: "Leave them alone, they're having a moment!"
"WE'RE NOT HAVING A MOMENT," you shout back.
"Speak for yourself, jingles" He says loudly, "WE'RE HAVING A VERY EMOTIONAL MOMENT!"
"I swear to god—"
"Come on." He tugs you toward the house, fingers laced with yours. "Let's go inside before you freeze. Can't have you catching cold before our New Year's plans."
"We don't have New Year's plans."
"We do now. You, me, and the bells."
"I'm burning those bells."
"Please don't. They're sentimental to me now."
You let him pull you back into the warmth, where your family is pretending very badly not to stare, where Mark looks like he needs several shots of whiskey, where your mother is already planning what is clearly a wedding in her head.
You understand with perfect clarity that you're completely fucked. You're going to fall stupidly in love with Lee Haechan. Probably already have.
thank you for reading! any feedback is greatly appreciated! <3
summary: you are the bane of lord jeong’s existence and the object of all his desires.
genre: fluff, angst, smut
warnings: enemies to lovers trope (kind of), fuckboy!jaehyun, arranged marriage trope, jaehyun is down bad, pussy eating, fingering, loss of virginity
As the new social season approaches, your rising anxiety increases tenfold.
It has been four years since you were introduced to society, which is deemed far too long to be unwed for a lady like yourself. Your mother is nearly chewing her own arm off in anticipation of you finding a husband. She definitely would have married you off to the first gentleman caller by now, but luckily for you, your father refuses to tie you to another man unless you provide your stamp of approval. He possesses a soft spot for his only child that your mother never understood.
Unfortunately, the pool of suitors is extremely lacking, forcing you to pass by season after season with no husband in sight.
“Perhaps this year will be different,” Yerim coos. “They say Mrs. Kim’s son is particularly eye-catching.”
“He’s also a right bore,” you grumble, locking your arms together as you stroll into Mrs. Kim’s soirée. You’ve heard many tales of her son, Doyoung, and how he’s finally ready to settle down and take a wife. However, you also heard he is unwilling to sit for a conversation for more than an hour, and how his expectations for his wife are skyrocketing through the roof. “Maybe I shall just put him out of his misery and marry Lee Donghyuck.”
She struggles to conceal her laughter. “I would love to see that.”
The night carries on as expected, with you and Yerim spending your time near the wall while the other ladies dance around the floor. You deny multiple requests for your hand, conjuring up excuses of a strained ankle or an upset stomach.
It is not until the end of the night when you are confronted with your lie.
“A poor tummy, hm? Perhaps you should have stayed home in case you heave all over Mrs. Kim’s beautiful floor,” Jeong Jaehyun says as he approaches you.
You roll your eyes. “I imagine you find it quite hard to mind your own business, Lord Jeong. I would rather not be subject to hearing your grating voice if it is not deemed necessary.”
Out of all the gentlemen in the ton, Jeong Jaehyun is the one who has stooped low enough to classify himself as a proper rake. A man who preys on the hearts of women and lacks commitment — a rake is not a man that a lady would ever want to associate herself with. They do not take the concept of marriage seriously, and you shall likely find them in the bed of another woman before they grace your own.
Jaehyun smirks at you in the way he knows will dig underneath your skin. He has been out in society just as long as you have, and every year, he never fails to irritate you to no end.
“No luck for you tonight? Tell me, what could possibly be wrong with the wonderful men gracing this room? How have they wronged you so that you have denied every single one of them?”
You try to look for an escape, but Yerim has already made an early departure and the rest of the ladies refuse to mingle with you in fear of also being dubbed as a lonely spinster.
“I did not know you were paying attention to me so ardently,” you bite back, and this has Jaehyun’s ears blooming bright red. You smile in satisfaction.
“I-I was not doing anything of t-the sort,” he stutters. “It is simply hard not to notice when you are the only lady actively rejecting possible suitors. If you really want to drive them away, you should just open your mouth and talk to them. That shall have them running for the hills.”
You narrow your eyes and wonder how much of a scolding you shall receive from your mother if you threw your drink in his face. He guesses what you must be thinking, cupping his hand over your glass and handing it to a nearby staff member.
He continues, stepping closer into your personal space. “Soon enough, the only ones who will be left in this ballroom will be me and you.”
“I loathe the day,” you hiss. “It would personally be my worst nightmare.”
He winks at you. “Trust me, you shall not find a gentleman better than me.”
You hear someone clearing their throat and you both glance over to see Kim Doyoung standing in front of you. You immediately drop to a curtsy at his presence, and you hear Jaehyun scoff at the fact that you did not grant him the same etiquette.
“I hope I am not interrupting, Miss,” Doyoung says.
“Of course not, Lord Kim,” you reply. “Lord Jeong was just telling me how he plans to retire early for the night.”
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at you and you return his bewildered expression with a heated glare. You would be very content if he made himself useful somewhere else, likely with his hands underneath another maiden’s dress.
“Yes, it seems I have another obligation to head to for the night,” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth, displeased by your dismissal of him. “I shall thank your mother for being a spectacular host before my leave, Lord Kim.”
Doyoung nods once. “It would be much appreciated. Thank you, Lord Jeong.”
Jaehyun departs with one more scathing look thrown your way. You grin to yourself, happy to be rid of his presence, until Doyoung starts speaking and ruins your night.
“I have heard from your mother that you are in search of a husband. I find myself in a similar boat, and I would much enjoy it if you were to accept my offer for tea tomorrow afternoon.”
You could say no. It would not be hard to make up another excuse, but your mother would be absolutely livid to discover you have turned down an offer from Doyoung, especially after she practically handed him to you on a silver platter.
One afternoon of tea shall not kill you.
“That sounds lovely. I look forward to our discussion.”
When you turn to beeline for the exit, you catch a pair of eyes peering over at you, and you swear you see a flash of Jaehyun’s hair before he disappears into the crowd.
Hm. You must be seeing things.
—
Your mother acts as if afternoon tea with Doyoung equates to an audience with the king.
She dresses you in a gown she brings out for special occasions and has your handmaidens spray perfume on you until you are drowning in the floral scent. When she accompanies you to the tea parlor, she lists out your annoying habits that you should try to avoid.
You were not made aware that you possessed so many.
“And the way you look at him, darling, it is extremely unflattering. He can tell you hate him by the way you desire to burn him alive with your gaze. Stare at him with conviction. Make his loins stir from one simple glance at you.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Mother, I shall say that I find this advice to be highly unhelpful.”
She growls at you. “You are nearly four and twenty without a single acceptance for a suitor’s hand in marriage. You shall adhere to any advice I am willing to offer you.”
Doyoung helps take out your chair like a gentleman, and you thank him while your mother sits one table behind you, eavesdropping on your conversation.
He cuts straight to the chase. “What traits do you envision for your future husband to possess?”
Your grip tightens around your teacup. You wonder what to say to ward him off, to get him to move onto the next lady.
“A man who will let me maintain my own hobbies and interests. I want to have children on my own time, not on the timeline my husband sets for me,” you answer, knowing that it is not the typical response a lady of your breeding is supposed to say. You are supposed to submit to your husband’s preferences instead of prioritizing your own. “I ask that he respects my wishes and swears his loyalty to me. I will not, in any circumstances, marry a rake.”
“This one is all bark and no bite, Doyoung. I would not take her threats to heart.”
You clench your jaw when Jaehyun approaches your table with a wide smirk on his face. He appears to be dressed for tea as well, but you see no partner by his side to accompany him. He must be here simply to intervene in your meeting with Doyoung.
“Lord Jeong,” you greet in clear distaste. “I was not aware you had been frequenting tea parlors as of late.”
“Ah, you must not be enlightened of my many passions then,” he replies with a cheeky smile. You resist the urge to slap it off of his face. “The madam who runs this shop has a fond affection for me. I always like to drop by and grab a free pastry.”
“How kind of you to take from the hard work of the common people at no charge,” you challenge with the tilt of your head.
Doyoung clears his throat when he senses the tension between you and Jaehyun rising with every scathing remark. You glance back to see your mother staring at you in abhorrence, and you quickly straighten your posture and adjust your tone.
“I apologize, Lord Jeong. I have been enjoying my time with Lord Kim. I am certain you have somewhere else you need to be.”
Jaehyun, to your chagrin, pulls up a chair. “Actually, my schedule is wide open for the day. I would love to join you.”
Doyoung stares at you, wordlessly asking if this is normal behavior, but you are too pissed off to respond. If Jaehyun wanted to cause a scene, he could have done so when you are not trying to prove to your mother that you still care about searching for a husband.
Your fingernails dig into the corner of the table and you lean forward to hiss at Jaehyun.
“Are you positive you have nowhere else to be?”
He smiles. “Absolutely. Now, catch me up on what you two were discussing. I would love to throw my hat into the conversation.”
Evidently, you and Doyoung have yet to be on the same wavelength for what you should and should not bring up in front of Jaehyun.
“I was asking her what she looks for in her future spouse.”
Jaehyun turns to you with a smirk. “Oh, is that so? Well, please, do not silence yourself on my behalf. I would love to hear the answer.”
“I already gave it to him,” you say in exasperation. “Maybe we should turn the tables on you. What does a rake like Jeong Jaehyun look for in a wife? Likely one that easily spreads her legs?”
You hear a gasp from behind you, and you know it is your mother’s shock at your candor. But you shall not allow Jaehyun to get the better of you and humiliate you in front of Doyoung. You hardly care if this statement will earn you a reputation for your crass nature.
The corner of Jaehyun’s lips twitches in amusement, only fueling fire to your flame.
“I would like for my wife to challenge me. It is not as fun when they comply with my every demand,” he says, and you fail to realize how the distance between you has closed in your heated spat. “I like a lady who knows how to speak up for herself, to voice her thoughts without concern for anyone else’s feelings.”
You scoff. Where in the world is Jaehyun going to find a lady like that?
“Good luck with your search, Lord Jeong. I have conviction that there is at least one lady out there who is meant to be with you.”
“I really should be going,” Doyoung says, standing and nearly toppling over the table.
You glance up at him in alarm. “Oh, I am sorry, Lord Kim. Let me just gather my things and-”
“No need, Miss. It must have slipped my mind that my mother asked for my presence back at home. I hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
He scurries out of the tea parlor as if the place had been set to flames. You stare after him with your jaw dropped, offended by his poor excuse to leave you behind.
You growl at Jaehyun. “Oh, you have seriously done it now, Jeong.”
“Come on. Do not tell me you were actually considering that man to be your husband.”
Your mother’s figure looms over you and you shyly look up to meet her judgmental gaze head on.
“I believe it is time for us to return home. We hope you have a wonderful evening, Lord Jeong.”
You’re dragged away by the crook of your arm, glaring at Jaehyun while your mother dishes out the biggest scolding you have ever received in your life.
—
“Your mother has brought me a proposal that I think may be in your favor.”
Your father is hesitant when he enters your study, catching you reading books by the fire. It is often the pastime you favor when your mother is upset with you, which has become more frequent in the past year. Your father is the one who searches out for you to try and talk you down, amending your qualms with your mother for a harmonious household.
“I shall not marry Kim Doyoung, father,” you say with the shake of your head. “He embarrassed me in front of the entire ton today! I will not be able to stave away the mortification for days.”
He sits next to you on the chaise lounge and looks at you solemnly.
“I have not come to converse about Kim Doyoung. I am speaking about Jeong Jaehyun.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “What does Lord Jeong have to do with this? He is the reason why Lord Kim fled from me in the first place.”
Your father wrings his hands around nervously, and you speculate on what has him so antsy. He is usually very candid with you about your behavior, which means you must have crossed a hard line if he’s withholding information from you.
“Lord Jeong’s mother came around this afternoon after your incident at the tea parlor. She thinks her son is acting far too reckless and wants him to settle down. She is considering sending him to his uncle’s house in the country if he does not start listening to her wishes.”
“That does not sound like a bad idea,” you reply with a giggle.
He offers you a strained smile. “Yes, your mother was thinking the same thing. Except she was imagining it for you.”
You leap out of your seat. He must be lying. Your mother cannot possibly be entertaining the idea of shipping you off to her brother’s house. He lives on acres and acres of land without a soul in sight except for the farm animals he cares for.
It would be your absolute nightmare.
“Father, please tell me you objected to this,” you plead, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach.
“Of course I did, darling,” he sighs, assuring you. “But then your mother and Lord Jeong’s came to an agreement that I could not oppose. I saved you from being shipped off, but in a few months’ time, you shall find yourself married to Jeong Jaehyun.”
You gasp. “F-Father, you cannot! You promised that I would get the final approval!”
He takes your hands in his and pulls you back towards his side. You are trembling at the picture of you and Jaehyun living as husband and wife. You would fight everyday and drive yourselves into a haze of madness.
“Darling, there shall never ever be a man good enough for you. I knew it from the day you were born, but your mother’s insistence on this matter has forced my hand. I think Jaehyun is a fine young man. You may not grow to love him, but he shall never put you in harm’s way. It is the most important quality a father can ask of his son-in-law.”
You start to tear up. “Please, father. Do not do this. Do not make me marry him.”
He pities you. “We shall start slow, darling. He shall be your escort to Mrs. Park’s upcoming ball and we shall ease into announcing your engagement. If he does anything untoward or compromises your virtue, I swear to you I shall back out of this deal.”
“But why can you not back out now?” You whine, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. “Why can you not save me now?”
He winces as if your pain physically brings him harm. You understand your father has bailed you out of your mother’s many propositions before, but you honestly cannot let this one slip through. Jaehyun is the exact opposite of who you envision yourself marrying.
He has to be just as horrified by this proposal as you are. You have no doubt he’s sitting in a similar situation to you, arguing with his mother over her ultimate decision to alter the course of his life. This must be the first agreement you have landed on in history.
“You shall not realize it now, but I am saving you from a lifetime of heartache, trust me.”
You spend the rest of the night weeping in your bedchamber, burdened by Jaehyun’s constant overbearing presence in your life. You think back on all of the memories you have of him, and if this changes the way you feel about your inevitable coupling.
—
When you first met Jaehyun, it had been your first season out in society. You were optimistic back then, drinking in the fairytales of finding your one true love at your first ball.
You were not the only one jaded by love as many of the other ladies your age had fantasized about their first ball as an eligible lady for years. You would gossip to each other while promenading around the veranda, dreaming of the young bachelor who would swoop you up in his arms and make all your dreams come true.
You had known a few of the men from growing up with them as noble families. They were usually brothers of your closest friends, and your nose would twist in disgust at the thought of being courted by them. You were stubborn about your choice in a husband even back then.
Jaehyun had been the talk of the town that year. He already made an impression on the older ladies, winning them to his side with his dimples and classic charm. You heard of him through Yerim and how many of the other ladies were vying after the massive amount of wealth in his estate. He was one of the richest bachelors of the season, and any lady who was wed to him would automatically be elevated to a higher social status.
You assumed that because of his upbringing, he would act in a more gentleman-like fashion than the rest of his peers. You were proved wrong by his display of behavior at your first ball.
“Is he planning to dance with every lady in this room?” You asked Yerim, watching as Jaehyun once again swept through the floor with a different lady latched onto his arm. “I mean, every dance card in this place has his name written on it.”
She laughed at you. “Can you blame him? He has a lot of prospects. Everyone knows he’s the first pick of the season.”
“It is disrespectful. He is toying with their feelings for his own amusement. I do not like it.”
She poked you with a twinkle of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “No, you do not like that he has not asked you. You want a chance with him, do you not?”
You scoffed at the assumption. “Absolutely not. I have my sights set on a much higher man than Lord Jeong.”
You were so adamant on your superiority over him that when he approached you later that night for a dance, you swiftly rejected him.
“I think you have had enough dances for the night. Would you not agree, Lord Jeong?”
He narrowed his eyes at you, likely wondering what he had done to already get on your bad side.
“One more shall not bring me harm. Unless your dancing skills are not up to par, Miss?”
You grinned at him. “My dancing skills are meant for a man who shall actually appreciate my talents instead of using me to cross another name off his list.”
That was the first time you had drawn Jaehyun’s interest.
—
Your mother had not been so gracious with you by your second year.
You had fumbled through a shoddy proposal from Kim Jungwoo, who was far too nervous to actually place a ring on your finger. You unfortunately injured his ego way too far for him to recover, and he quickly withdrew his proposal with his tail tucked between his legs.
Your mother blamed you for the ordeal and ordered at least five new dresses for you to present yourself in your second season. Luckily, Yerim had not caught any gentleman callers either, and you two began flocking together at every event.
By then, Jaehyun’s infamous status as a rake had spread across the ton.
He had been spotted slipping out of brothels late at night, flirting with married women when their husbands were away, and escorting random ladies to balls just for the fun of it. You never possessed a single ounce of respect for him.
Despite this, Jaehyun would not seem to leave you alone.
Every time you turned a corner, he would be there, waiting to surprise you with an insult or tease you about your almost-marriage with Jungwoo.
“Must we keep meeting like this?” He said after the season was nearly halfway over and you had just turned down another suggestion to dance. He stalked you all the way to the bowl of lemonade while you tried to ignore his grating voice. “No one here is up to your caliber?”
“What do you want, Jeong?” You spat out, tired of his nonsense. “I thought you would be halfway down the street by now, searching for an open brothel.”
He chuckled at your jest. “They have put up warning signs about me to all the women. Apparently I caused a few too many internal fights over my rugged good looks.”
You rolled your eyes. “I find it more likely that they figured out you are sexually impotent.”
“There is only one way to find out for yourself, hm?”
“I would rather gauge my own eyes out.”
“What’s the matter? Am I not as pretty as Jungwoo?”
Johnny Suh had been the one to rescue you, asking you for a dance, which was the first offer you accepted that night. You would glance to the side from time to time to catch Jaehyun’s gaze following you around the floor, but you preoccupied yourself by staying near Johnny, preventing the loathsome creature from approaching you again.
—
Johnny had gotten married to Lady Joohyun by the next year, leaving you without a regular dance partner in your third season. Many believed he would propose to you, but you knew that he had only wanted to make Joohyun jealous after his confession to you one night.
Jaehyun, surprisingly, did not bother you whenever you were with Johnny. He had been noticeably absent from any ball where Johnny was your escort.
You believed your luck had taken a turn until your first appearance after Johnny’s marriage.
“Well well well,” you heard his drawl from a mile away. Yerim looked at you hesitantly after you tensed by her side. “Look who has decided to make an appearance on her own.”
At the time, you were giddy about your chances of a husband that season. Many noblemen had returned from vacation with friends and distant relatives accompanying them, nearly doubling the pool of gentlemen at your disposal.
You were absolutely not going to allow Jaehyun to ruin the year for you. You decided to play civil, to hopefully make amends and let bygones be bygones.
“Lord Jeong,” you greeted with a curtsy, which had Jaehyun stifling a chuckle. “How lovely to see you here.”
“Is it?” He replied with a raise of his eyebrow. “If I recall, you compared me to a horrid bug staining the bottom of your shoe just a few months ago.”
Yerim pursed her lips to prevent a cacophony of laughter from slipping out. You squeezed her arm with a scolding glance.
“That was the old me, Lord Jeong. I am a new woman, so you see. I am about to become a bride after all.”
“A bride? To whom have you been betrothed to? I have heard no news of your engagement,” he said in a flurry, his eyes flashing with a panic for reasons unbeknownst to you.
“You have not heard news of my engagement yet,” you emphasized. “The night is young and I am a very willing maiden. Therefore, if you’ll excuse us-”
“If you are so willing, then shall you entertain me with a dance?” He questioned as he held out one hand, challenging you.
You clenched your jaw in frustration. You were all in favor of extending an olive branch, but dancing with him at the first ball of the season was a tad too far. You did not want to be making a statement for yourself by befriending Jaehyun’s company.
The ladies would assume you held no dignity for yourself and the gentlemen would be appalled by your association with him.
“I have already promised my first dance with Lord Lee,” you lied through your teeth. You knew Donghyuck would not mind dancing with you just to save you from Jaehyun. “I shall see you around, Lord Jeong.”
If you had known better, you would have caught the dejected expression on Jaehyun’s face after you refused him. But all you could remember from that night was his teasing smirk and the playful lilt in his voice as he mocked you.
—
Your memories of Jaehyun do not assure you in the slightest that your parents have made the right decision.
Yerim comes over the next morning after the news of your forced marriage, soothing your cries with warm pastries and fresh tea. She rubs your back while you lay in bed, moaning for your misfortune.
“It is not that horrible,” she says in an attempt to pacify you. “At least he is good looking.”
You blink up at her. “Are you serious? I hardly care about his looks, Yerim! He is deplorable! He does not have a single redeeming quality. My mother wants to ruin my life, I am positive about that fact. How could any other suitor ever want me again once I have been tainted by Jeong Jaehyun?”
She chews on her lower lip. “I know you are not fond of him, but he may not say the same for you.”
Her statement has you peeking over your pillow, curious to hear more. She catches your gaze and exhales sharply.
“Have you ever noticed that he attends events when he knows you plan to be there? Or how he talks about you to everyone who will listen? He may have a reputation for being a rake, but you are the only lady he has asked to dance with since our first season.”
The information slowly dawns on you, but Yerim must be imagining things. Jaehyun has never felt any real romantic feelings towards you. You remain faithful that you share this conviction with him.
You shake your head. “He is deluding you as well. Trust me, Yerim, I know where Jaehyun’s true feelings lie.”
She eventually helps you get out of bed and you fail to exchange a single word with your mother while you break your fast. Yerim nudges for you to say the first word but you refuse.
Your mother only acknowledges your presence later in the night when you are due to be escorted to your first public appearance with Jaehyun.
“You are not dressed.”
You brush your hair in front of the mirror, humming softly to yourself. Yerim left to prepare herself in her own home, but you wish she had stayed to help you fight this battle with your mother.
“That is because I am not going.”
“Whatever game this is that you are playing, I do not find it amusing in the slightest. Lord Jeong will be here within the next hour and I expect you to welcome him downstairs with a proper gown and your best smile.”
As your handmaidens help you into your dress, they exchange knowing glances with each other until you grow tired of their mind games.
“May I inquire what has piqued your interest?” You ask in a bored tone.
Seulgi, your handmaiden of over five years, smiles gently at you. She has been dressing you since your first season, and is very aware how irritated you can get during times like these.
“The staff have just been discussing, Miss, since your mother announced your plans for engagement. We have been in communication with the staff employed at Lord Jeong’s household.”
You perk up slightly. “Is that so? And what have you discovered?”
Seulgi beams at you. “Lord Jeong is positively delighted by your coupling. The staff has never seen him more alert. He has been placing orders for brand new decor for your wing of the house and has requested for his staff to research your favorite delicacies to stock the cupboards. It is quite endearing.”
You frown. Jaehyun has wormed his way into the minds of your handmaidens too. His ability to manipulate others should honestly be lauded.
“How sweet of him,” you say through gritted teeth, holding back your true feelings. Although they spend more time with you, your handmaidens are employed by your mother, which means anything you say in front of them could be parroted back to her.
You devise a plan while they continue to adorn you in jewelry and work at pinning up your hair. If you could get Jaehyun to call off this marriage, you are certain his mother would relent. Your cries may go unanswered because you are simply a woman who was born into the right family, but Jaehyun will run his own household after he is married, which means he has superiority over his mother’s decisions.
You hear his voice filter from up the stairs when you walk out of your room.
“It is honestly my pleasure, madam. Your daughter is a gift that I promise to treasure.”
You huff. Where does he keep pulling these lines from?
As you walk down the steps, you take in the scene unfolding in your foyer. Your parents are speaking to Jaehyun with radiating smiles, laughing at every little thing he says. His mother stands closely behind him, joining in on the laughter with a chuckle here and there.
When your heel hits the last step, they turn to you. For the first time, you identify the twinkle in Jaehyun’s eye that tells you he’s excited to see you.
Could Yerim be right? Does Jeong Jaehyun like you?
“There she is,” your mother says, tugging you over and pretending she wasn’t upset with you an hour ago. “She is beautiful, is she not, Lord Jeong?”
“Stunning,” he whispers, and you desperately want to punch him in the face.
“Let us head out, shall we? We do not want to run late,” you say, itching to remove yourself from the spotlight. Jaehyun nods in agreement, outstretching his arm for you to take it, and you reluctantly wrap your fingers around his bicep. You lead the way to the carriage waiting outside, murmuring loudly under your breath so Jaehyun can hear you. “You are so dead to me, Jeong.”
He helps you into your carriage, and you don’t miss the pained look in his eyes as he forces a smile onto his face.
—
Jaehyun never wanted to fall in love.
He has witnessed enough of his friends losing their sanity over the matter, finding themselves on the receiving end of their mother’s meddling into their lives. Some of them have found happiness while the others have settled for what they were given.
Although Jaehyun is the only child and he knows he must marry to continue his lineage, he never imagined he would marry for love. He would likely find a well-bred lady, one who would simply finish her duty in childbearing and leave him alone otherwise.
Before tying himself to her, he desired a little recklessness in his life. He tugged on the heartstrings of the ladies in the ton and stopped by brothels when he was searching for something quick and fast. It earned him a reputation but he hardly cared about what other noble families thought of him. He knew at the end of the day, they prioritized the wealth of his estate far more than his outside trysts, which means he would have no issue in securing a wife when he wanted to.
He really was not intending on taking an interest in you.
His mother had educated him on the ladies of his season, so he knew a little of your background. You are also the only child in your family, but being born a daughter means you must get married to receive an ounce of your father’s wealth. Still, this fact never seems to spur you on in your quest for a husband. He has noticed other ladies approach him quite confidently yet you stay sidelined at every ball, waiting for the gentlemen to come to you, even though you refuse most of their offers to dance.
And he shall admit that your adamant refusal to dance with him has him intrigued.
Although the other ladies are appalled by his reputation, they remain courteous enough to accept a dance or two, mingling with him when they see fit. Since his first season, Jaehyun has made it his own personal mission to get you to join him on the floor, come hell or high water.
He just never expected forcing you to marry him as being the catalyst for you to adhere to his wishes.
“You shall tell your mother that you want to call this marriage off,” you say as soon as the swell of the music starts and you take to the floor.
He takes a step towards you with a raised eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I am positively certain I will make your life a living hell if I become your wife. You may not favor me now, but you shall surely detest me once I am finished with you.”
But as you twirl around the floor, he fails to find his voice to tell you that he does not harbor any hatred for you at all. You may play those parts in public and it may be true for you, but Jaehyun has never thought of you as the chip on his shoulder.
The rest of the ton stares at you with wide eyes, whispering to one another about the sudden closeness between you.
“Is marrying me such a stain on your character? What, am I not on par with the likes of Kim Jungwoo and Johnny Suh?”
It infuriated him to no end when Jungwoo was courting you. The man did not even know a single thing about you! He was lured in by your pretty face, and Jaehyun snickered to himself when Jungwoo soon discovered that you have an independent mind, judging the man whenever he uttered the wrong thing. Jaehyun was over the moon when Jungwoo ended your courtship.
Johnny, however, was a player that Jaehyun was not expecting. The man was tall, handsome, and could definitely handle your sharp edges better than Jungwoo. Jaehyun worried that you two would actually marry so he shipped himself off for a vacation to avoid seeing you walk down the aisle. He was content when he returned home and learned you were still single.
“Marrying you would tarnish my reputation. I cannot imagine the other ladies respecting the woman who ties herself to the world’s most infamous rake.”
He falters at the insult from you. When his mother had approached him with the idea to marry you, she expected him to swiftly turn it down, so it came as a surprise that he accepted the deal fairly quickly. He honestly could not stand the thought of you marrying the boring Kim Doyoung. The man would not understand how to entertain you, how to keep you on your toes and humor you.
He would never say it out loud, but the prospect of you becoming his wife satisfied him. He could already picture you running his estate with an iron fist, organizing the awful ledgers he has to sort through and checking if each member of the staff is well taken care of.
He wants it. He wants to wake up next to you. He wants to dance with you when there is no one else around. He wants to bury himself into you, listen to your sweet little moans as he tangles a hand through your hair-
He shakes his head to ward away the lewd thoughts threatening to crawl forward. The music slowly comes to a lull, and before he can stop you, you are darting out of his grasp and heading towards the balcony.
He sees your mother attempt to follow you but he stops her with the raise of his hand. He shadows you, keeping his eyes trained on the floral pattern of your gown.
He stops when you saunter out, slamming the doors shut behind you as you lean over the railing to catch your breath. He observes you silently, watching as you sigh and run your fingers through your hair, taking it out of its neat updo.
He waits a little before joining you in the open space.
“I did not realize I would become such a burden for you,” he whispers as you stand side by side.
You scowl at him. “How did you think I would react? Did you think I would jump into your arms and you would carry me off into the sunset?”
“You hate all of the gentlemen in the ton. You have to concede to this fact. And I understand I am not better than the rest of them, but you know me. I would never bend your will or coerce you into submission. You will be free to do as you please, I will not prevent you from your happiness.”
“But you are preventing me! Does this not register with you? I do not want to marry you. You must feel the same way, do you not?”
He hesitates, and the brief second seems to confirm your answer. You exhale and your hands tighten their grip on the railing.
“How long?” You ask in a small voice.
He swallows. “I do not know.”
“I cannot marry you, Jaehyun.”
“I shall inform my mother of your decision tonight. I apologize for causing you grief.”
You spin and saunter back into the ballroom, leaving Jaehyun’s heart crumpled into a mess on the floor.
—
Jaehyun plans to escape his troubles by embarking on a year-long vacation.
Perhaps it is enough time to move on from you, to stop worrying about you all the time and wondering who you might be with. His announcement to the staff about ending your engagement before it has even come to life has his mother in tears. They were instructed to halt all preparations for your wing of the estate and to eat whatever stock of food they had purchased for you.
He’s barely holding himself together as he packs up his things, intent on leaving and not coming back until he is ready to face high society again.
“Lord Jeong, you have a visitor at the door.”
“I am fairly occupied,” he says without missing a beat, grabbing any article of clothing he can find and throwing it into his suitcase.
But then they tell him that you are the one waiting by the door, and that has his feet moving swiftly.
You are fidgeting in the foyer, squirming as members of his household staff walk around you, carrying pieces of the decor that was meant for your bedroom.
“Lord Jeong,” you say with a curtsy, and his eyebrows furrow from the contrast of your behavior last night to today.
“How may I help you?” He asks coldly, desperately wanting to distance himself from you. You never make any task easy for him.
“I wanted to continue our conversation.”
“I did not think there was much more to say. You made your feelings very clear.”
“May we speak in private?”
He guides you into his office, leaving the door open an inch in an effort not to compromise you. You clear your throat once you are alone.
“I have thought it over and have decided to accept your proposal.”
He narrows his eyes. “You have decided to accept? Forgive me, but the last time we spoke, you distinctly voiced your opposition to marrying me. What has changed?”
You look away, your mouth twisting in the way it does when you are particularly peeved by him.
“You are right,” you admit begrudgingly. “I do not like any of the gentlemen in the ton, and I fear I never will. At least with you, I shall still have my freedom and get my mother off my back. I cannot stand another season of this — the balls, the dresses, the constant dancing. I am tired and I just want to live.”
The tension in his shoulders starts to fade. It is not exactly what he wants to hear, but he will take your acceptance if it means he does not have to leave for a year just to forget you.
“So we are carrying through with this?”
You purse your lips. “I cannot fall in love with you. Not in the way you want me to.”
He nods. “T-That is perfectly fine. I was not expecting you to.”
“And we will forgo childbearing until it is absolutely necessary.”
“That sounds plausible.”
“And Yerim is allowed to come over whenever it suits her.”
“Of course.”
You chew on your bottom lip and he resists the urge to take it in between his teeth.
“Where is my ring?”
He blinks twice. “Forgive me?”
“My ring. You must have one picked out.”
He pats his pockets but blanches when he realizes he’s not carrying his mother’s ring with him.
“Can you wait here for a second?”
He sprints upstairs to his mother’s room, startling her handmaidens when he pounds on her door. She opens it with wide eyes.
“Jaehyun, what-”
“Where is your ring?” He asks breathlessly. “The one that father gave you?”
“In my jewelry box. Why?”
“May I have it? Now? Please?”
She fumbles around to look for it, and Jaehyun bounces on the balls of his feet while he waits, fearful that if he does not get that ring on your finger, you shall disappear through the front door and he will never see you again. As soon as his mother hands him the band, he runs back down to his office, relieved when he sees you still standing by the window.
He drops to one knee in front of you and you stare back at him, unamused. He decides to skip the speech in case you change your mind, slipping the ring on your finger as you admire the diamond sparkling in the light.
“It is beautiful,” you murmur, and he thanks the heavens for your approval. You lower your hand as you state, “I shall not attend another lousy ball just for show. We shall wed as soon as we can and negotiate the details after.”
Like a puppy chasing after its tail, he submits to your every request, dreaming of you and him under one roof.
—
The next week is chaos in the Jeong household.
Members of the staff rush left and right, preparing themselves for a wedding they thought had been called off. The favorite gossip of the ton have been surrounding your wedding, pertaining to why you were getting married this quickly, how you went from despising one another to falling in love, and if tying the knot would finally promote Jaehyun from being a rake to a proper lord.
Jaehyun is keen to sit back and watch it all unfold. He has barely seen you as you have been wrapped up in dress fittings and moving your belongings into his home.
It is only the night before your wedding that you rush to his office in a panicked state.
He is startled when the door swings open and you stand there in nothing but your nightgown. You hold a candle in your hand as you scurry to his side.
“What-” he starts, wondering what could be troubling you.
“My mother has divulged to me what a husband is meant to do to his wife on the night of their wedding. I shall inform you that I do not approve of such indiscretions, if that was not made clear before.”
His cheeks flush red when it dawns on him what you must be referring to. Yes, he has conjured up many fantasies late at night, but he never assumed you would willingly lie with him on your first night together as husband and wife.
“Y-Yes, that is understood.”
“Furthermore, I shall not become the wife who sits idly by while you run to a brothel to satisfy your needs. You shall only lie with me, when I feel I am prepared and ready to accept you.”
He leans back in his seat, one eyebrow raised. “Do you think so low of me that I would disrespect you in such a public fashion?”
You huff. “Jaehyun, I am astonished that you have not done so already.”
He narrows his eyes. Before he can retort, the door bursts wide open again and your handmaiden comes rushing in.
“I apologize profusely, Lord Jeong!” She cries. “We were not made aware of her destination. You are not meant to see her like this-”
“You do not need to apologize to him, Seulgi,” you interject with a sigh. “And he shall learn to see all sides of me soon enough.”
Your handmaiden stutters for a response but you poke your finger at Jaehyun with a stern gaze.
“Do not dare forget what I said.”
“How can I when you come traipsing through here in the middle of the night, disturbing me before the biggest day of our lives?”
You exit with a dramatic flair, slamming the doors behind you as your handmaiden follows after. He slumps in his chair, exhausted and wondering how far he has to go to earn your trust.
His mother wakes him the next morning bright and early, chirping happily for the marriage she has waited years for. He readies himself on his own, pulling on his stuffy suit and tie. He thinks about how you must be faring with the glitz and glamour.
His mother and yours had invited almost the entire population of the city to the wedding. People that Jaehyun has never met in his life greet him at the chapel, congratulating him for the momentous occasion. He thanks them with a nervous smile, worried if you will actually show up at the end of the aisle.
Thankfully, when the music plays and the doors open, you step out, dressed in a long, satin white gown. He loses his breath when he looks at you, the picture perfect beauty of a bride. You hesitate under the scrutiny of the ton’s gazes, tightening your grip around your father’s arm.
Jaehyun inhales and exhales slowly. His heart is beating so hard that he can hear the thumping echo in his ears. He can hardly believe this day has come, and even more so that you agreed to marry him.
You must be running through the same thought process, for when your father hands you over to Jaehyun, you stare at him wide eyed. He takes your hand in his, soothing you by running his thumb over the back of your wrist. It unwinds you a little when you stand in front of the priest.
The priest drones on and on about eternal love and the sacred vow between husband and wife. Jaehyun keeps his eyes trained on you, watching you from the corner of his eye to ensure you are faring well.
When you turn to him to seal your lips in a kiss, his heart stops beating.
“Breathe,” he whispers just before his mouth touches yours. He can feel you trembling in his hold.
“Why do they have to keep looking at us?” You murmur.
“Because you are too pretty for them to look away.”
“You are full of it, Lord Jeong.”
His tongue traces over your bottom lip before he can stop himself. A couple’s first kiss at their wedding should be a light peck, something God would approve of.
Jaehyun does not give a damn what God thinks.
There is a small gasp in the audience when his tongue slips into your mouth. You arch into him, calm for the first time in hours.
When you break away, you blink up at him, and his curiosity flares up. Did it feel good for you too?
The crowd erupts in applause and you step away from him, smiling shyly at them. Jaehyun kicks into autopilot, walking you back down the aisle as you laugh with the people surrounding you.
When you are escorted into the gardens for your reception, he swallows.
“Well, it is over.”
You purse your lips. “Y-Yes. That kiss was-”
Your mother comes around the corner, crying as she envelops you in a hug. You pat her back awkwardly as she sobs.
“Oh, darling, I am so happy for you! So, so happy!”
Then Jaehyun’s mother mobs him, cooing about how handsome he looks. You find yourselves on opposite ends of the large space, controlling the flock of people who demand to know the next steps of your marriage.
Jaehyun fields questions left and right that are clearly an invasion of his privacy.
“How many children do you two want to have?”
“I think the best time to start making babies is right after the wedding. It’s when your hormones are at their peak. Do you not agree, Lord Jeong?”
“My theory is that you should lock yourselves away for at least two months so the seed will sprout and grow. Does that not sound wonderful?”
By the time he finds his way back to you, you both are worse for wear.
“Lord Jeong, Lady Jeong!”
You grab Jaehyun’s hand and sprint into the hedge maze. He tries not to trip over your skirt as you weave through the walls of the garden, catching your breath once you find yourselves trapped in the middle.
“They are incessant vultures!” You hiss, ripping the veil from your hair and tossing it to the side. “I mean, honestly. Who granted them the authority to decide when and how I should have a child?”
“Lady Baek almost gave me advice on how her husband gets it up! As if I need to hear such disturbing counsel regarding a man about to turn seventy!” He grunts.
You shudder. “We shall camp out here until they have all grown too tired to stick around. What was my mother thinking when she invited that many people?”
You collapse on the ground together, paying no mind to the grass stains covering your dress or the dirt coating the bottom of his pants. You listen to the steady sound of each other’s breathing, grateful to be away from the incessant noise.
He clears his throat. “What were you saying earlier? About the kiss?”
You cough. “Oh, um, nothing. It was merely surprising, that is all.”
“Sorry if I did not live up to your expectations.”
“That was not what I meant,” you mumble, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “I hardly expected you to kiss me so… passionately. In all of the weddings I have attended, the groom never devours his bride like that.”
“I did not devour you,” he corrects, flustered by your accusation.
A moment passes before you burst into a fit of laughter. He should be mad with you, but when he glances over to see you giggling into your palm, he finds the corners of his lips lifting upwards.
You settle into your harmonious laughter for a few minutes, riding on the blissful cloud of your new marriage. He did not think it had become such a huge burden on his shoulders, but he is relieved he no longer has to deal with mingling in crowded ballrooms, debating on whether he should ask you to dance or leave entirely.
The recollection has him springing to his feet. You stare up at him in confusion when he holds out his hand.
“Join me.”
“You cannot be serious, Jaehyun.”
He clicks his tongue. “I obliged to all of your rules. Come here and dance with me.”
You grumble as he helps pull you up. Once you are in his arms, he wraps a hand around your waist, holding you steady as you rest your hand on his shoulder.
The moonlight dances over your features and he swears he has never seen a sight more beautiful.
“Yerim was telling me something the other day that I found interesting,” you say.
He quirks up an eyebrow. “What did she say?”
“That you only attend balls when I am present. And that you will speak about me to anyone who will listen.”
“Do not let it go to your head,” he teases weakly.
You do not allow him to escape that easily because evidently, you love to embarrass him at any given chance.
“How long, Jaehyun?”
He thinks about the night out on the balcony when you were asking him this question with the intention to break his heart and never return.
“A long time,” he confesses. “Likely when we first met.”
You shake your head. “Why? Why me? Out of all the women in the ton-”
“The rest of the women in the ton could never hold a candle to you,” he swears, looking deep into your eyes, hoping you memorize every word. “I know you think of me as a reckless rake who will insert myself into any woman’s bed, but you must know how devoted I am to you. You are the only person I find myself laughing with, the only person who can keep up with me and drive me insane all at once. I dream of you. I understand this marriage is all a means to an end to you, but you are the only lady I have ever wanted.”
He nearly chokes when you pounce on him, smashing your lips together until he’s stumbling back into the hedges. His hands rest on your hips as you chase after him.
Your tongues fight for dominance and he realizes just how hungry he is. He has been holding himself back to preserve your dignity, but with God as his witness, you are now his wife and he gets to make you writhe in pleasure if it is his sole desire.
He bunches up your skirt, slipping his hand underneath the mountains of fabric. He growls when your corset gets in the way of the prize he really wants.
“Get this off,” he hisses, tugging at the tight strands that hug your bodice.
“Our mothers will come looking for us,” is all you can reply with.
“I do not care,” he says. “I need you.”
But a gasp interrupts your fervent entanglement. You jump apart to see his mother standing in front of you, appalled by the sight of you two.
“Jeong Jaehyun, I raised you to be a gentleman!” She scolds, approaching you and helping you look presentable again. You avoid her glare. “You both need a lesson in understanding what is acceptable for you to do in public. Just because you are married does not give you the right to behave like animals!”
She tugs you away with a huff, and Jaehyun’s head crashes against the hedge, his cock aching to be stuffed inside you.
—
You are avoiding your husband.
You do not know what has gotten into you. At first, you were loathing the creature you were forced to marry, hoping one day he would magically incinerate and you could avoid having to call him your husband. But then he was confessing to you, telling you everything a lady has always wanted to hear.
It is the first time you have ever experienced the spark of attraction to a gentleman. It is the first time you became content in getting married. It is the first time you felt… desire.
But you are not supposed to let Jeong Jaehyun get the best of you. You hide away in the daytime at Yerim’s home, brushing off her probing questions.
“It’s your honeymoon. Should you not be at home?”
You smile tightly at her. “And miss spending time with you? Of course not. Now, tell me all about Na Jaemin.”
You do not return back to the Jeong estate until supper, where you have a tense gathering with your husband across the dining table. True to his word, Jaehyun refuses to touch you until you initiate it first, which is driving you both mad with insatiable lust.
“How was your day with Yerim?” He asks stiffly, spooning soup into his mouth.
“G-Good. Sir Na has taken a liking to her. He lives in the countryside, however, and I selfishly do not want her to move away if they are to be betrothed.”
“Yes, it might be quite terrible if you were left alone in the presence of your husband with nowhere to flee.”
You narrow your eyes. “If you are insinuating something, Jaehyun, then please do not subject me to your mind games. I would rather you speak the truth.”
He smiles devilishly. “You first.”
You keep your mouth sealed shut for the rest of the meal. Even when you prepare yourselves to climb into bed together, your bedroom is filled with such unspeakable tension that you could cut with a knife.
You occupy yourself by opening a book, observing from the corner of your eye as Jaehyun turns on his side and blows his candle out. You tap your nails against the hardcover, blurting out your next statement before you can stop yourself.
“You never told me about your day.”
He muses over how to reply before he states, “I was lonely, craving a wife who wants nothing to do with me.”
You pout like a child. “I told you I am not going to fall in love with you.”
“I remember.”
It’s summer when Yerim and Jaemin get engaged. Yerim’s mother is so thrilled that she hosts a celebration party, where you and Jaehyun attend arm-in-arm, pretending to be civil with one another. You are bombarded with an onslaught of questions pertaining to how your marriage is faring, and if the ton can expect a new baby boy or girl to arrive any day now.
You stick with the excuse of, “We are trying,” to get them to go away.
Yerim pulls you aside to her bedchamber later that night, smiling widely. The joy in her expression has not left her face all night, and it comforts you to know she will be taken care of in the countryside, despite being so far from you.
“What a night!” She exclaims, falling on her mattress in glee. “I have never been this happy before, I swear it to you.”
“I can tell,” you laugh, patting her knee. “It satisfies me to know Jaemin has you this giddy.”
She chews her lip when she sits up, and she has the expression on her face that screams she has a secret.
“Can I tell you something? In the confidence of our friendship?”
“Of course,” you say, sitting next to her on the bed.
She twiddles her thumbs, clearly thrumming with nervousness. “The other day, Jaemin and I were alone.”
You gasp. “Yerim! You are not supposed to be with him unchaperoned until after you are wed!”
Her cheeks bloom a bright shade of red. “We did a lot of things we are supposed to do after we are wed.”
Your curiosity gets the better of you, and the prompt scolding you are about to give her dies down in your throat.
“W-What did he do?”
“Amazing things,” she exhales dreamily. “Do you know how good it feels when they put their mouth… down there?”
“Yerim!” You say, scandalized.
She giggles. “So you and Jaehyun still have not-”
“No,” you confirm with the shake of your head. “No, we have not. And we will not until we absolutely need to.”
She nudges your shoulder. “He is your husband now, you know. Not a rake who is looking to bed you just because he can.”
You clear your throat and rise from your spot on the bed. “We should head back downstairs. People might be searching for you.”
She’s slightly downcast by your quick dismissal but follows you without protest. You are warm from the brief discussion, imagining what Jaehyun would look like nestled in between your thighs, staring up at you with unadulterated hunger.
The vision abruptly leaves your mind once you land on the last step, spotting your husband being flanked by Sooyoung, a girl he used to be very friendly with. She is giggling at him, her hand caressing his bicep as she hangs off his every word.
You freeze, your throat growing dry at your husband openly flirting with another lady in front of you. In Jaehyun’s defense, he does not seem to be paying any attention to her, his eyes fluttering around the room.
When he finds you, you dart towards the exit, ignoring both Yerim and Jaehyun’s cries of your name. As you request for your carriage to be brought forward, a hand wraps around your wrist.
“You have made assumptions.”
You tear your hand away from Jaehyun with a glare. “I hardly care who you speak to. I am going home, the party’s over.”
He growls your name and the staff lingering nearby pretend to look disinterested.
“Do not behave like this.”
Once your carriage rolls up, you climb in, refusing Jaehyun’s help. You try to close the door behind you but your husband pushes his way inside, preventing you from making your dramatic escape.
“I do not possess any feelings for Sooyoung,” he sighs. “I never have.”
“I do not care! I am merely humiliated by the fact that you would display your affection for her in front of everyone! I know those people, Jaehyun, and I strictly told you before we were married that I would not become the wife who would stand idly by while her husband is wrapped up in an affair!”
“I am not in an affair!” You are both screaming too loud to hide your troubles from the outside. “I have never had an affair. I am devoted to you! I dream of you! How many times must I say this to you? Sooyoung approached me, asking me how I have been. I told her I was not interested in her folly and I was waiting for your return. What took you so long with Yerim anyways?”
You are riled up with anger and frustration. “She was educating me about how a proper husband takes care of his wife. Tell me, did you ever get on your knees for Sooyoung? Did you press your mouth in between her thighs?”
His eyebrows raise to his hairline, clearly not expecting you to quip back with that. You fold your arms across your chest, pouting and refusing to look at him.
You gasp when his hands suddenly pull up your dress and he sinks to his knees. You back yourself up against the wall of the carriage.
“Jaehyun, what are you doing?” You hiss.
“If you wanted to know what it feels like, you could have just asked.”
You glance around worriedly but the carriage still moves on, and the drapery covering the windows protects anyone from the outside to witness your husband wiggling his way underneath your dress.
You do not stop him, interested in how determined he is to prove himself to you. Your fingertips dart out to hold the sides of the carriage when his lips graze over your core.
You cup a hand over your mouth to keep your moans at bay. You have never dared to touch yourself in your most sensitive area. It’s unseemly for a lady of your status, and you feel as if you shall be damned to hell if you ever crossed that line.
But Jaehyun is your husband, so this must be allowed in heaven, right?
You lurch forward when his tongue runs over your folds. You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he starts to lick at your dripping cunt. He laps at you as if you are his next meal and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You are entirely too sensitive that you could cry, your body shuddering as Jaehyun buries himself deeper into your pussy.
The carriage comes to a halt as you sob, your hands tangling into his hair as your peak washes over you. When he pops his head back up, he’s grinning with your slick covering his chin.
“How was it, my dear wife?”
“Get inside the house.”
The staff are flustered when you scramble past them. Jaehyun’s hands dig into the flesh of your waist as he leads you inside, dismissing the staff by hoisting you up on the singular table in the foyer, knocking down his mother’s favorite vase.
You bring his mouth to yours as the spark inside you bursts into flames. Months of tension finally unravel as he pushes your thighs apart, slotting himself in until he’s rolling down into your core.
“Jaehyun,” you whine. “Please.”
“Did Yerim tell you what men can do with their fingers?” He asks, his bottom lip dragging over your jawline.
“N-No.”
You squeak when he unlaces your corset, practically ripping it in half in his efforts to peel it off of you. His mouth is drawn to the swell of your breasts, taking your exposed nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud.
A maid comes from around the corner at the sound of the broken glass from the vase, but she chokes when she sees her employers dangling off a tiny table, enraptured in one another.
When he slips a finger inside you, you’re driven wild with lust. None of the noble lords and ladies would recognize you if they saw you now, encouraging your husband to use his teeth while sucking at your breasts and begging him to stuff more fingers inside your cunt.
“Dear God,” you sob when his thumb circles at your clit.
You have never felt pleasure like this in your entire life. Is this why women get married? Is this why they subject themselves to uncomfortable corsets and boring dances?
“You like it, do you not?” He questions in a mocking tone, hovering over you with a darkened gaze. “Imagine how we could have had this months ago if you had only swallowed your pride. Falling in love with me does not sound so horrifying anymore, does it?”
His teeth sink into the juncture of your neck as you chant his name. You cum when he inserts another digit inside your wet hole, curling his fingers forward, causing you to feel boneless in his grasp.
“I will not have our first time be like this,” he says, licking his fingers clean and carrying you in his arms.
“The bedroom is too far,” you reply, wanting to jump his bones immediately.
He chuckles. “You made me wait months. I think you can handle a few minutes.”
The room is spotless when you walk in, making you feel slightly guilty for ruining the staff’s hard work. But then Jaehyun drops you on the mattress and unlaces his breeches, and your focus hones in on his lower half. Your vision grows heavy when he reveals himself.
You never quite understood what gentlemen were packing down there, but you surely never would have guessed this. His member is long, thick, and veiny, startling you when he wraps a hand around his base.
“W-What are you planning to do with that?”
He laughs. “My wife, this is meant to go inside you.”
Your brain stops working for a second. He senses your hesitance, smiling playfully as he leans over you, kissing you gently.
“I shall take it slow. It shall feel good once you get used to the stretch.”
“Do you promise?” You say timidly.
He nods. “It helps that you are already so wet.” You scoff when he swipes his fingers over the wetness coating your thighs. He kisses every inch of exposed skin he can find, helping you loosen up to take his massive cock. “It is going to hurt the first time, but I swear it will get easier.”
“Who said we would be doing this again?” You inquire.
His chuckle vibrates against the shell of your ear. “Trust me. We shall definitely do this again.”
He lines himself up to your entrance, distracting you with a kiss. You never believed kissing could be worthwhile, but you find that you do not mind the act at all when it comes to your husband.
But Christ, is he trying to split you in half?
“Hurts,” you whimper as he gradually pushes in.
He stops immediately. “Do you want me to pull out?”
You shake your head. “No, no. Just… make it feel better.”
“You like it when I touch you here,” he says, returning his thumb to your clit, rubbing the nub in slow circles.
You close your eyes, powering through the overwhelming pain with the small windows of pleasure. Jaehyun does not appear to be experiencing the same issues, gritting his teeth when he bottoms out.
“You are squeezing me too tightly,” he groans. “Ease up a little, wife. I am going to finish before we have truly started.”
“I cannot! You are intent in destroying me!” You retort.
“Fuck,” he curses, dropping his head to rest between your neck and shoulder. “Tell me when I should start moving.”
“Moving?” You pale. “Is this not the entire thing?”
“I thought your mother explained this to you the night before our wedding?”
“She never discussed the specifics!”
His hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You blink back the tears threatening to spill and he smiles at you, assuring you that everything is going to be okay.
“Do you trust me? You must trust me a little at this point.”
“A little,” you grumble. “Don’t push your luck.”
He moves to sit on his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders and holding them in place while he thrusts into you. Initially, he’s apologizing for the pain, but you slowly adjust to his size and your wetness begins to emit a thwacking sound against the flesh of his thighs.
Moans spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“That is it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”
You would not think that Jaehyun’s praise would have such an effect upon you. You are whining for him as his cock batters into your pussy, staining the sheets with the mix of your wetness.
“I shall not last,” he says through bated breaths. “You are squeezing me too tightly.”
Moments later, he spills into you, filling you with the warmth of his cum. He withdraws himself to replace his length with his fingers, swirling them inside your cunt until you are falling over the edge of your third climax.
He collapses next to you, his chest rising up and down. You gaze at him shyly.
“So when shall the baby come?”
He smiles at you. “It normally does not take the first time. We have to keep trying until you feel the babe start to grow.”
You narrow your eyes. “You are surely making that up.”
He winks. “Trust me. We shall practice until you acquire a taste for it.”
—
You and Jaehyun apologize profusely to the staff the next day for your behavior, but they simply smile and tell you to work hard in your baby making efforts.
You are both startled when you approach the breakfast table to see his mother sitting there, sipping on her morning cup of tea.
“M-Mother?” Jaehyun stutters. “What are you doing here? I thought you were away handling matters of the estate.”
She smiles knowingly at you, and you slink behind your husband’s back, feeling like a child who has been scolded for eating too many treats.
“I wanted to check in on you. I arrived last night.”
“Last night?” You and Jaehyun both question in shock.
You recall his messy display of fingering you in the foyer for everyone to witness. Did his mother see her son ravaging you? Did she watch you fall apart under his touch?
Her grin seems to convey your answer. She gestures to the chairs beside her.
“Come and sit. I want to hear all about my future grandchild.”
You return to your bedchamber after breakfast feeling mortified. Jaehyun tries to soothe your worries with a gentle hand at your back.
“It is very normal for a husband and wife to be intimate.”
“Not for a lady to expose herself in front of her mother-in-law and the staff!”
He winces. “I am certain that they found the scene to be arousing, if anything.”
You dig your head into the pillows, pouting. “You fail at lifting up my spirits.”
You feel him peppering kisses over your shoulder, his hands wandering where they should not be. You try to swat them away but he whines in your ear.
“She already knows about us anyway. Let me have a little fun.”
You turn on your side to face him, grazing your fingers over his cheek. You hate that Yerim was right — your husband is very handsome.
“When I said I would never fall in love-”
“It is fine. I understand.”
“No, no,” you correct, tracing his jawline. “I was going to say that I think I could. If you give me enough time and if you do not act like an insufferable rake, I could see myself loving you.”
He smirks. “I am quite flattered.”
You roll your eyes. “Can you do that thing with your mouth again?”
“Happy to oblige, wife.”
this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!
You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.
┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader
Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut
Words: 4.7k
Rating: 18+
Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering
A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!
“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”
A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.
To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.
“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”
“No.”
You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”
He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”
𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — handcuffs & restraint, bondage above head, manhandling, orgasm denial & forced edging, overstimulation, breath play/choking, jaw grip/forced eye contact, face-fucking & gag reflex play, spit play (spitting in mouth/body), forced self‑tasting, vibrator torture (remote control), rough lap sex, car sex, semi‑public sex/exhibitionism & voyeurism, window/rough surface grinding, degradation & possessive dirty talk/name‑calling, humiliation, crying kink/tears, spanking/impact play (ass & thigh slaps), hair pulling, nipple play/biting, rimming (anal oral), anal fingering/stretching, double‑stuffed fingers (both holes), ass slapping & spreading, throat grabbing while thrusting, creampie/cum play & dripping, squirting/fluid mess, bruising/grip marks, risk of marks on skin & clothing, fast/erratic pacing, power‑imbalance dom/sub dynamics. dubious consent tones (control play), risk of exposure in public, aggressive language, restrained movement, tears, choking/breath restriction, objectification, intense/erratic sex pacing.
The air in the car feels heavy before the windows even fog, a heat that comes from years of him teaching you what you didn’t know you wanted, from nights when you clawed his back raw and begged until your throat broke for mercy he never gave. Three years, long enough to be his, branded into your skin in fingerprints and bruises, short enough that you still wake up dazed that the boy who ruined everyone else chose to ruin you permanently. He was the name whispered through every dorm hall, the one with the body that made girls reckless and the mouth that left them wrecked, all sharp smirks and sweat-drenched sheets. You were the quiet virgin, tucked into corners with your books, too shy to hold eye contact, too easy a mark for someone like him. And yet you’re the one he never let go of, the one he corrupted until the girl you used to be blurred into something only he could create, his slut, his whore, his sweetest weakness and filthiest obsession, broken open on his cock night after night until you forgot what untouched ever felt like.
He made you into a cock-hungry whore who can’t sleep without the stretch of him splitting you, who begs to be used against every surface, bent over counters, stuffed full in locker rooms, gagging on his length in lecture halls just because he snapped his fingers. Your body runs on his rhythm, trained to arch and bounce and take every brutal thrust until you’re hoarse from screaming, until the slick between your thighs drips down your legs and stains the sheets he’ll ruin again hours later. He fucks you like you’re nothing and worships you like you’re everything in the same breath—fingers buried in your throat, tongue dragging over your clit until you’re convulsing, cock pounding into you so erratic you can’t tell where the pain ends and the pleasure starts. Three years and every position, every filthy idea he’s dragged out of you has only made you needier, a perfect slut molded for him alone, the kind that cries if he withholds and falls apart the second he gives in.
Jeno drives like he fucks: one hand steady on the wheel, the other always claiming you. Tonight it’s on your thigh, fingers pressing just hard enough to remind you who it belongs to, thumb tracing higher each time you shift. The neon glow outside stains his profile in flashes of blue and red, jaw sharp, cheekbones carved, dark hair falling over eyes that cut when he glances at you. His lips are wet, swollen from where you couldn’t stop yourself earlier, and the hickeys on his neck are blooming proof of what he let you get away with before punishing you for it. Every muscle in his arm flexes as he grips the wheel, veins standing out against skin still heated from the gym, and your pulse stumbles watching the way his shirt clings to his chest. He looks dangerous and gorgeous and entirely yours, a vision that makes your thighs press together even as his hand spreads them apart with lazy authority. He drives with the calm of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing, one hand on the wheel, the other resting heavy on your thigh, forcing it open a little wider every time you try to press them together.
The car hums with a low growl, the same kind of sound he makes when you ride him too slow, when he grabs your hips and pounds up into you until your cries echo off the walls. Every streetlight passing feels like a countdown, your body tuned to his even when he doesn’t say a word. This is how he always starts, calm, in control, letting you simmer until you’re wet and aching without him even touching where you need. His profile could be a sin in itself—sharp nose, jaw tightening as he flexes his grip on your thigh, lips twitching like he knows exactly how soaked you already are. He always knows. You stare and he smirks, dragging his thumb closer to the edge of your panties, and you realize you’re already undone just from the way he looks behind the wheel, the boy who turned you inside out now driving you toward another night you’ll barely survive.
Your thighs won’t stay still, no matter how hard you press them together, no matter how heavy his hand clamps down over them. The leather squeaks beneath you with every squirm, breath spilling out in shallow, shaky whines as you turn your face toward his profile, watching the perfect slope of his jaw flex, the wet shine of his lips, the dangerous calm in the way he keeps one hand on the wheel like nothing’s happening while your pulse stutters out of control. “Nono, I can’t wait,” you whisper, voice breaking, teeth dragging over your swollen bottom lip as your hand inches higher, curling over his wrist to drag his palm closer to where you ache. “Jeno, please—” the plea shatters into a whimper as you spread your thighs wider under his touch, desperate, shameless, panting into the hot space of the car.
You lean into him, lips grazing the edge of his ear, and your voice turns filthier, dripping with need. “You can’t make me wait three hours… not when I’m already soaked for you. Pull over, ruin me right here. I want your cock down my throat until I choke, I want to ride you until my thighs give out, I want you to use me until I’m crying all over your seat.” Your nails skim dangerously close to the bulge in his jeans, fingers ghosting over the hard line of him, and you giggle when he growls low in his throat, breath catching on your tongue like gasoline ready to ignite. “C’mon, baby, just let me taste—”
The brakes slam so hard your body jolts against the seatbelt, cuffs clinking violently as his hand shoots up to your jaw, grip bruising, forcing your lips apart in a helpless gasp. The car jerks to a stop on the side of the dark road, headlights spilling into the trees, and he finally turns, his face shadowed and sharp, a growl curling from his chest as his eyes pin you in place. The heat of his breath, the tension in his muscles, the sheer force of his presence makes your stomach twist tight with hunger and fear at once. “You really wanna play with me here?” he snarls, voice low and lethal, but his lips twitch in that half-smirk that tells you you’ve succeeded, that you’ve broken through the calm into the storm you were begging for. And god, he’s terrifying like this—terrifying and so fucking sexy your thighs quake, your mouth falling open around a desperate little gasp as you wait for him to tear you apart.
His grip on your jaw tightens, forcing your head back against the seat until your eyes lock on his, no escape from the weight of his stare. His voice is gravel when he speaks, low and vibrating through your bones, the kind of sound that makes your thighs tremble harder than his touch. “You think you can move my hands like that? You think you can beg and pout and act like a little whore in my car, on my road, when I told you to wait?” His words drip with venom, but his thumb presses against your lower lip until it pops free, your mouth open and panting, saliva catching the glow of the dash. “You don’t get to tell me when, you don’t get to tell me how. You’re mine, and you’ll take it when I decide.”
Your hips lift from the seat anyway, shameless and wild, wrists straining against the cuffs as you push your body into his hold. “Then decide now,” you whisper, voice wrecked with want, tongue darting out to lick at the tip of his thumb just to make him twitch. “Pull me out and fuck me until the windows shatter. I’ll scream for you, I’ll choke for you, I’ll make a mess all over your cock, Jeno—just let me have it.” You grind up into the seat, the slick sound obscene in the silence, and giggle through your gasp when his nostrils flare, his jaw clenching like he’s holding back a beast.
“God, look at you,” he growls, leaning closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his teeth flashing as he bares them in a grin that’s nothing short of feral. “Begging to get ruined by the side of the road, soaking my seat like a desperate slut, rubbing yourself raw because you can’t wait. You wanna be a cock-hungry whore for me so bad, don’t you?” He yanks your chin, forcing you to nod, forcing you to choke out a needy little yes even as your eyes roll back. “Say it,” he snaps, the word a command that burns straight through your spine.
“I’m your whore,” you gasp, shameless, your thighs spreading wider, your chest heaving. “I’m your cock-hungry slut, Jeno, please—please ruin me now.” The words drip from your mouth like sin, and you see the way his lips twitch, the darkness flooding his eyes as his growl deepens, the air in the car turning molten with the promise of what’s about to break loose.
Despite the dominance that drips from him in moments like this, Jeno has always been a sweet, giving boyfriend—three years of him spoiling you, taking care of you, balancing the filth with a tenderness that makes you ache even deeper. Tonight was meant to be different; he’d surprised you with a romantic staycation in a secluded cabin, a weekend meant for slow mornings, wine by the fire, and the kind of intimacy that wasn’t all bruises and cuffs. He’d rushed you when you were getting ready, muttering about check-in times and how he wanted to get there before midnight, and normally you would’ve crawled into his lap before leaving, riding his cock until you were sloppy and satisfied enough to handle the drive. But he didn’t let you, clamped his hand around your wrist, kissed you quick, and said you’d have to wait until you were there. Now the cruel irony sinks in: you’re going to be late anyway, because there’s no version of reality where the two of you can go hours without fucking. It’s not just lust, it’s a need, a hunger that burns both of you raw. You crave him the way lungs crave air, the way your body bends to him without thought, and he’s just as feral, obsessed with you to the point of madness, the kind of man who can’t stand the idea of anyone else hearing the sounds he rips out of you yet thrives on making you scream loud enough for the world to know you’re his. By the time the brakes screech and his growl rips through the car, you both know the truth—you’re never going to make it to that cabin without tearing each other apart first.
The cuffs snap around your wrists before you can even process the sound of them, steel cold and tight, locking you against the headrest so you can’t move, can’t touch, can’t beg with your hands the way you want to. The clink echoes through the car every time you shift, a cruel reminder of your helplessness, and your chest burns with the humiliation of being trapped like this, half-naked under the wash of headlights spilling into the empty lot, nothing to cover you but the shadows painting your skin. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t fumble, he sets you up like he’s done it a hundred times before, the cuffs cinched just right, your arms pulled tight until your shoulders ache, your body perfectly restrained for him to play with. You’re squirming, trembling, wetness spreading beneath you on the leather, but he doesn’t give you a drop of mercy.
The hum of the engine fills the silence, low and steady like the growl in his chest when you whine too loud. He leans back in his seat, one hand braced on the wheel just to look casual, the other running heavy up your thigh, spreading you wider until your panties stick to the slick between your folds. He knows what the cuffs do to you—knows you’ve loved them ever since the first time he locked you up in his dorm bed, when you were still too shy to admit you wanted to be helpless, when you cried from being edged for an hour while he whispered how pretty you looked begging with your wrists chained. That was the night he broke you open, the night you admitted you got off on being bound, and since then it’s been a sickness between you both. Tonight, parked and hidden but still so close to being seen, he knows you’ll lose your mind.
The cuffs are an old game, one he first slipped on you in his dorm room three years ago when you were still shy, still hesitant, when he wanted to prove how easy it was to make you unravel without giving you anything at all. What should have been a joke turned into a sickness neither of you could cure. Every time he’s chained you up since, you’ve come harder, faster, crying louder, begging filthier, the helplessness rewiring something inside you until you crave the steel bite of restraint as much as you crave his cock. Tonight he doesn’t even have to explain why—he knows you ache for it, knows your body won’t feel right until you’re shackled into place, knows you can’t fight the heat that floods you when you’re rendered helpless under him.
He tilts his seat back with a snap, leather groaning, and manhandles you where he wants you. The chain bites when he pulls your arms higher, locking them tight so your chest arches forward. Then he drags your legs up over the console, spreading you open indecently, your knees splayed wide under the dim glow of the dash. He doesn’t have to say why, he’s displaying you for himself, for the empty street outside, for the thrill of knowing anyone could pass and see you cuffed and dripping in the passenger seat. His palm clamps over your jaw, tilting your face until your mouth falls open like he’s trained you to, his thumb stroking your tongue just to hear the wet gag of your throat when he pushes deeper. “Better,” he tips his head, studying you like a painting he already owns, and there’s something cruel in the way his thumb presses to your tongue as if to remind you he can fill you however, whenever, wherever he wants.
“Keep your fucking eyes on me, slut. Don’t blink. Don’t you dare look away.” His voice is a weapon, deep and sharp, vibrating through your body as you squirm against the cuffs. Your thighs rub together despite the spread, desperate for friction, every nerve ending on fire as your pussy throbs just from the sound of his tone. You moan shamelessly around his fingers, drool spilling down your chin as he fucks them lazily into your mouth, his gaze never leaving your face. He pulls them out with a wet sound, smearing spit across your cheek with a satisfied smirk. The windows fog fast, every gasp and sob bouncing back at you until the car feels like a furnace. Your wrists ache, your shoulders strain, the cuffs clink with every useless pull you make, but none of it matters—not when you’re leaking through your panties, not when the humiliation of being bound, displayed, and denied only makes you wetter. He doesn’t touch where you need, doesn’t offer an ounce of relief, just lets you stew in it, bound and trembling and undone by the sheer weight of his control.
He leans into it, dragging this out, forcing you to understand what these cuffs mean, what they’ve always meant: no matter how bratty you get, no matter how desperate you are, you’re his to break apart when he wants, not before. He clamps your jaw tighter, shoving two fingers back past your lips, fucking them into your throat slow and deep while his eyes stay locked on the road. The humiliation is blinding, spit pouring down your chin, windows fogging with every choked gasp, but it makes your cunt gush harder, the slick squelch between your thighs obscene in the silence. “Pathetic little thing,” he mutters, and your eyes flutter, tears brimming as your body arches against the cuffs.
“Already dripping just because I put you in cuffs. You don’t even need my cock, do you? Just the chains and my voice are enough to make you fall apart.” His words scorch through you, your body jerking helplessly as the obscene wet squelch between your thighs echoes in the silence. You moan louder, shameless, and the smirk on his lips twists darker. He leans closer, breath hot against your ear as he keeps his hand heavy on your throat. “You love it, don’t you? You love being my little slut in cuffs. Love when I take away your hands, take away your choices, and leave you like this, helpless, needy, soaking my seat like a dumb whore.” His grip tightens, squeezing until your eyes roll, until your breath cuts off and your chest heaves, and you can’t even nod, can’t even answer, just choke on the pleasure burning you alive.
He releases you just enough to let you breathe, but his palm never leaves your throat, pressing heavy as his thumb traces over your fluttering pulse. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted to be chained up, wanted me to make you cry all over my seat, wanted to be reminded that this is what you’re good for.” His words sink into you like heat, filthy and absolute, and you can’t deny it, not when your thighs are trembling wide open, not when the cuffs clink with every pathetic squirm. He doesn’t even give you a chance to answer before his hand slides lower again, hovering at the edge of your panties, so close you want to scream. He doesn’t touch, not yet. He just hovers, making you quake, making you beg with your whole body while the threat of his cock hangs in the air like a guillotine about to drop.
His hand hovers over your cunt like he’s teasing himself just as much as you, and the cuffs bite deeper when you jerk your wrists to try and close the distance. You’re sobbing out little pleas already, mouth wet and swollen from his fingers, and he just laughs, low and sharp, letting his knuckles brush the edge of your panties before pulling away. “So fucking needy. You love being chained up like this, don’t you? My dumb little whore, dripping just from the sound of the cuffs rattling.” His palm smacks the inside of your thigh hard enough to sting, then presses back down, grinding against the wet lace for two seconds—just enough to make your body seize—before he pulls away again, leaving you gasping. “Pathetic. Can’t even sit there without begging to be ruined.”
He drags his fingers under the band of your panties at last, slow and deliberate, and dips them into your folds, collecting the slick that’s already soaking through the seat. Instead of touching your clit, he pulls them out, holds them in front of your face, and shoves them between your lips. “Taste it. Swallow it all.” His voice is rough, but his eyes burn as he watches your throat work, spit and arousal mixing down your chin. He smears the rest across your mouth, rubbing it in with his thumb like he’s marking you, then grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, forcing you to look at him. “Look at you. You’re nothing but my filthy little mess. Can’t keep your mouth or your cunt empty for more than five minutes, can you?”
This time, when he slides his fingers back down, he doesn’t stop at your clit. He pushes two inside without warning, deep and rough, his palm grinding down against your swollen clit through the lace as he fucks them into you fast enough to make the cuffs rattle with every thrust. You choke on your own gasp, your thighs jerking, but he doesn’t let you ride it—he clamps his free hand over your throat and growls, “Stay still. You don’t come until I say.” His pace is brutal, fucking his fingers into you like he’s punishing you for every whimper, dragging your slick out loud enough to fill the car with obscene wet sounds. Then, just when you’re shaking, right on the edge, he pulls out and shoves the soaked fingers back into your mouth. “That’s yours. You eat every drop before you get anything else.”
And then he does something filthier, he shoves your thighs higher, knees pinned back against your chest, spreading you wide open against the seat while your wrists strain in the cuffs. With your body folded, your panties stretched tight over your clit, he spits directly onto the wet fabric, watching it darken before rubbing it in with two fingers until you’re convulsing under him. “Look at that. My slut cuffed up, crying, soaking in spit and slick. You look like a fucking porno right now.” He presses down hard, circling your clit through the spit-soaked lace, his eyes locked on your face. “Say it. Say you’re my whore. Say you’ll let me keep you cuffed like this forever.”
Your wrists ache from the cuffs, your body folded in on itself, knees shoved back against your chest, panties dark and clinging to you as his spit seeps through the fabric. You’re panting so hard the windows drip with fog, every sound in the car obscene—wet, messy, desperate. His fingers rub tight circles over your clit through the soaked lace, rough enough to make you thrash against the headrest. You can’t hold it in, the words spilling out high and shameless. “Jeno—fuck—please, baby, please. I need your cock. I need it so bad, I’ll take it anywhere, I don’t care, just, fuck me, ruin me.” Your voice breaks, frantic. “I’ll take it in my pussy, my ass, my throat, I don’t care, I just need you inside me.”
He growls, low and dangerous, pressing his palm harder until your back arches. “Listen to yourself,” he snaps, dragging his hand down to slap your pussy hard through the lace. The sound cracks through the car, and you scream, your body jerking. “Begging to be stuffed in every hole like a fucking cock-hungry slut. You want it that bad?” He smirks, spreading your folds with two fingers just to watch you twitch. “Say it again. Say you’ll take me in your pussy and your ass, that you’ll choke on my cock until you’re crying.”
Tears burn your eyes, your mouth wet with spit and his slick, your voice cracking but still loud, shameless. “Yes! Yes, fuck, I’ll take it, all of it, I’ll take your cock anywhere you want. Please, Jeno, use me, I’m your slut, your filthy, cuffed-up whore, please just give it to me!” Your words collapse into sobs, your thighs trembling violently. “Fuck my ass, fuck my pussy, fuck my throat, I don’t care, I just need to feel you. I can’t wait, I can’t—please, baby, I’ll scream for you, I’ll do anything.”
He grabs your jaw, squeezing until your mouth pops open, spitting inside and watching you swallow before shoving two fingers back down your throat. “That’s all you are, huh?” he snarls, his hips shifting forward so the thick outline of his cock grinds against your bare ass where you’re pressed up against the seat. “A cock-hungry toy. My slut who begs to be filled everywhere until you’re dripping and crying. You want my cock in your ass too? You want me to stretch you open right here, cuffs rattling, windows fogged, anyone who walks past watching you scream for it?” His voice is so dark it makes you clench, and he smirks when he feels the way your body answers for you.
His fingers fuck you open mercilessly, one hand working your pussy until it gushes, the other stretching your ass with rough, deliberate thrusts. The cuffs clink violently with every jerk of your body, your screams bouncing back at you in the fogged glass. He leans in close, voice a gravelled snarl, “You’re dripping everywhere, slut. Both your holes stretched on my fingers like you were made for it. You can’t stop, can you? You’ll take anything I give you.” He slams his fingers in deep, curling them until your back bows off the seat, the wet squelch filling the car louder than your begging.
Your mouth falls open, drool spilling down your chin as you choke out, “Yes—fuck—please, Jeno, cock, I need your cock, I’ll do anything, please!”
With one final thrust he rips his fingers out, leaving both your holes empty and twitching. The sudden absence makes you cry out, a broken, guttural sound, your whole body shuddering as if you’ve been abandoned on the edge of an orgasm that never comes. He smirks cruelly at the sight, your thighs shaking, your ass slick, cuffs rattling in desperate protest. “Pathetic,” he mutters, wiping your wetness over your stomach before grabbing your chin in his fist. “You’re gonna ride me cuffed, you’re gonna bounce until your thighs give out, and you’re gonna cry like the filthy whore you are for cock. That’s the only way you get what you want.”
He shifts back in his seat, spreading his legs, belt buckle rattling loudly in the cramped silence. The sound is deliberate, a taunt, the promise of what you’re begging for, but he doesn’t free himself yet. He watches your eyes lock onto his hands as he loosens the leather, your breathing turning into ragged sobs when he tugs the strap open only to leave his cock trapped behind his jeans. “Strip,” he orders, voice flat, lethal. “Every last thing. I want you naked, cuffed, dripping in my passenger seat while I’m still fully dressed.” The humiliation burns hot across your skin, your body arching against the cuffs as you whine, but you obey, tugging and writhing until your clothes are stripped away, leaving you bare and shaking while he sprawls back in his shirt and jeans, cool and untouched.
He doesn’t rush. His hand hovers over you, the heat of his palm taunting, fingers brushing your clit oncex just once, before pulling away, leaving your body convulsing. Then he produces a small remote from his pocket, clicks it on, and the hum of a vibrator tucked against your folds makes your eyes fly wide. He presses it there with his palm, letting the buzz tear through you until your mouth drops open in a scream, and then clicks it off, ripping the sensation away. The silence that follows is deafening, the wet sound of your cunt twitching against nothing obscene in the empty night. You sob, tears streaming, and he clicks it on again, this time barely pressing it against your swollen clit before pulling back once more, smirking when you thrash.
“Look at this mess,” he snarls, dragging the toy down through your slick folds before pulling it away again, your body jerking violently at every second of denial. “Drenching my seat like a whore, hands locked up, legs wide open just because I said so. Anyone could walk by and see you cuffed, naked, begging for cock. Is that what you want? You want the world to see you’re nothing but my slut?” You scream through your tears, nodding frantically, your thighs slapping against the leather in erratic, empty movements as you chase the phantom friction. The sound of your wet skin against the seat fills the car, louder than your sobbing.
He clamps his hand around your throat, squeezing until your cries turn to choked gasps. His lips curl in a cruel grin, voice dropping even lower. “You come when I tell you. Not before. You’re mine, and you’re gonna prove it.” His grip tightens, your pulse hammering under his thumb as your eyes roll, the cuffs rattling helplessly above your head. You’re delirious now, your teeth digging into your swollen lip, thighs thrashing against the seat, but he doesn’t waver, doesn’t break, just holds the toy near your clit without pressing it, letting the hum taunt you with every pulse.
“Beg,” he growls, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg loud enough that the whole fucking street hears you. Tell me what you are, tell me what you need.” His hand squeezes tighter as your body writhes, desperation bleeding out of you in incoherent sobs.
“Please—I’m your whore, your slut, I’ll take it anywhere, I’ll take it in my ass, in my pussy, in my throat—just fuck me, please, please, please!” you scream, voice cracked and raw. The sound echoes into the night, into the empty lot, into the air thick with the smell of sex, and he groans low, the noise dark and satisfied, finally starting to press the vibrator down again with brutal force.
The vibrator torture breaks you down until you’re sobbing in the seat, wrists raw from fighting the cuffs, thighs soaked from your own slick and spit. He keeps you on the edge over and over, pressing the buzzing toy hard against your clit until your body jerks and convulses, then ripping it away just before you can let go, laughing at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Look at you,” he mutters, smearing his spit over your face with the back of his hand, “my little toy, cuffed and useless, crying for cock like it’s the only thing that keeps you alive.” You scream through the denial, hips rutting against air, every sound a filthy chorus of desperation, and it finally tips him over the edge of his restraint.
Without warning he snaps, grabbing your throat in one hand and your waist in the other, dragging you across the console with brute force. Your wrists yank against the cuffs, steel biting deeper as he manhandles you onto his lap, still bound, still crying. His jeans are shoved down just enough, cock springing free, thick and heavy against your stomach before he slams you down on it in one brutal thrust. You scream, the sound raw and unholy, as he fills you in one stroke, no build-up, no warning. The car rocks violently with the impact, leather squealing beneath you, every bounce making the cuffs clatter above your head.
His hand never leaves your throat, fingers digging in, forcing your eyes wide open and locked on his. “Look at me,” he snarls, voice vibrating against your skin as your body convulses around him. “Don’t you dare look away while I ruin you.” His other hand fists into your hair, yanking your head back, spit dripping from your swollen lips as you gasp for air. He slams up into you with bruising force, pace relentless and erratic, the slap of your ass against his thighs obscene in the fogged-up car. Each thrust drives your knees into the dashboard, leaving angry bruises while his cock splits you open raw.
“Bounce,” he growls, slapping your pussy hard with his free hand before gripping your hips and forcing you down. “Faster. Don’t stop until your thighs give out.” You try to obey, riding him messy and desperate, cuffs rattling as you use what little strength you have to push yourself up and down, but his cock is too thick, too deep, tearing you apart. Every movement makes wet sounds echo through the cabin, your slick drenching his lap and the seat, dripping down his jeans. “Look at this fucking mess,” he snarls, thrusting up hard enough to make your breath stutter. “Drenching my lap like a whore, hands locked up, legs wide open just because I said so.”
Your orgasm rips out of you before you can stop it, a scream torn from your chest as your body locks up around him, cunt clenching in convulsions that leave you shaking violently. He doesn’t slow—he slams through it, fucking you harder, overstimulating until your screams turn into sobs, spit and mascara smeared all over your face. He spits into your mouth, snarling, “Open. Choke on it. Good girl. Take it all,” before shoving his fingers between your lips again, fucking them down your throat while his cock punishes your cunt. You gag around his fingers, tears streaming, your body shaking as another orgasm crashes through you, and another, until you’re sobbing into his palm.
His pace is nothing short of unholy now, every thrust shaking the car, leather groaning beneath you as the cuffs clink louder and louder. He pulls one hand from your throat just to spank your ass hard, the crack echoing in the cabin before his palm grips the sting, spreading you wider. “You love this, don’t you? My cock in your pussy, my fingers in your throat, my hand on your ass—stuffed full like the dumb slut you are.” You cry into his palm, choking on your moans, and he laughs, the sound cruel and aroused. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk out of this car. Until your throat is raw and your cunt is ruined.”
Your body breaks again, orgasm after orgasm flooding you until you’re incoherent, babbling his name and begging for more even as your muscles give out. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you a second—his cock pistons into you like a weapon, bruising your insides, while his other hand drags your face back to his with your hair. He spits straight into your open mouth again, snarling, “Swallow it, slut. Every drop. Every sound you make belongs to me.” He fucks you through the tears, through the shakes, through the screams, until you’re nothing but a wrecked, sobbing mess in his lap, your wrists rattling in the cuffs with every brutal slam.
The end is a violent crescendo—his growl turns feral as his thrusts deepen, erratic and unstoppable, his cock hitting so deep your eyes roll back. He slams you down one final time, holding you there as he empties inside you, the heat spilling deep while his grip on your throat pins you to him. His voice is dark and final, words rasping against your ear as the windows drip with condensation. “That’s mine. Every sound, every drop, every twitch—mine.” Your body trembles violently, wrecked and spent, your cunt fluttering around him while the cuffs clink one last time, the only reminder that you were bound and owned the entire time.
Your body turns feral the moment he lets go, sanity snapping clean out of reach. You arch over to him and begin bouncing on his cock again like a woman possessed, reckless, insane, no rhythm, just pure animal need. The cuffs rattle violently with every drop of your weight, the chain clinking sharp against the headrest while you slam yourself down on him over and over, so hard it sounds like you’re trying to break his cock in half inside you. Cum squelches out of your wrecked cunt with each brutal descent, dripping down his thighs, soaking the seat, splattering onto the console with every slam. The car rocks on its shocks, leather squealing loud, dashboard rattling as your knees bruise against it again and again.
You’re sobbing but you don’t stop—won’t stop—your voice cracked and high as you choke on every bounce. “Fuck—fuck—oh my God—Jeno—fuck—can’t stop—need it—need your cock—” The words collapse into manic cries, drool and spit flying from your mouth as your head whips back with the force. Your tits are bouncing so hard they’re smacking his face, heavy and wet with sweat, nipples dragging across his mouth every time you drop. He groans into them, catching one in his teeth, sucking hard enough to bruise, spit dripping down your chest as he snarls into your skin. His hands grip your hips bruising tight, forcing you down even harder, snarling into your chest, “Wreck me. Fucking break me. Bounce till this cock splits you open.”
The windows are dripping with condensation, every slam fogging them harder. The sound of your ass slapping his thighs is obscene, thunderous, echoing with each brutal impact. Cum spills with every bounce, slick coating his cock, spraying out onto the seat below. The steering wheel trembles from the rocking, your cuffs rattling a sharp counter-rhythm to the wet slaps of your body on his. Your thighs burn, your ass stings, your lungs heave, but still you keep going, insane, mindless, a cock-drunk whore wrecking yourself until you’re nothing but sweat, spit, and cum dripping down onto him.
He snarls into your ear, teeth dragging down your throat as you slam onto him again and again, cock buried to the hilt. “Look at you. Lost your mind on my cock. You don’t even care where you are, don’t even care if someone walks past, just wanna bounce till you’re ruined. My fucking maniac slut.” You scream, head thrown back, your body convulsing, but still you ride him, reckless, erratic, the cuffs clattering above you like they’re about to break off the frame. Cum squirts out with every drop, dripping down your thighs, soaking his jeans, staining the seat forever.
The bounce turns rabid, your body snapping down on his cock so hard the whole car lurches, shocks squealing as if the frame itself is about to give. The cuffs clink like chains in a madhouse, steel biting into your wrists with every desperate slam of your hips. Sweat pours down your spine, tits flying, leather squealing beneath you until it feels like the seat itself is soaked with spit, cum, and heat. Then his grip shifts, one hand tearing at your throat, the other yanking you forward until your face is shoved down into the sticky leather of the passenger seat, cheek pressed flat against it, moaning into the smell of sweat and upholstery. Your ass is up high, bouncing wild in the dim glow of the dashboard, headlights painting the trees outside while the low growl of the still-running engine vibrates through the car.
“Stay the fuck down,” he snarls, choking you hard against the seat, his belt buckle rattling as it scrapes across your back when he adjusts himself, still half-dressed, broad and brutal, fully clothed while you’re naked, cuffed, and dripping. He holds you pinned there, your wrists jerking behind your headrest, your tits squashed beneath you, while your ass is left high and bouncing. The wet slap of your skin against the chair is loud, obscene, every thrust of your hips spraying slick across the seat, splattering onto the console. He smacks your ass hard, the crack echoing in the cabin, then spreads you open roughly, spit dripping from his lips straight onto your asshole.
The shock makes you scream into the seat, your voice muffled by the leather as he leans down, tongue dragging over the spit-slick rim of your ass. “Fuck, look at you, dripping, cuffed, face in the seat, begging to be eaten like the whore you are.” His tongue circles your ass, licking deep, obscene and filthy, alternating between slapping your cheeks raw and pushing his tongue inside until your legs shake violently. The car rocks sideways with the force of it, windows fogging so hard the glass drips, your fists pounding against the seat in mindless reflex as his growl vibrates against your ass.
Every sound is louder in the silence of the night, the obscene squelch of your arousal spilling out, the squeak of leather under your thighs as you writhe, the metallic clink of the cuffs above you. Your breath fogs the glass until it’s opaque, every gasp crashing into the windows, fists thudding against them as you lose control. You’re screaming into the seat, begging, sobbing, every word soaked in saliva and spit. “Jeno, please—oh my God—please fuck me—eat me, spank me, choke me—I’m your whore, do whatever you want!”
He pulls back just long enough to smack your ass again, harder, the sting making your whole body jolt forward against the console. His reflection glints off the window, ghosting over your sweat-slick skin as he growls, “Begging with your face in the fucking seat, ass up for me like a toy. You’ll ride nothing but air until I tell you.” His voice cuts through the obscene noise of your pussy dripping, the wet slap of your thighs against leather filling every inch of the car. He chokes you harder, pressing your face deeper into the seat until your scream is nothing but a muffled sob, then licks your ass again, rough and possessive, before shoving his cock back inside you in one brutal stroke that makes the entire car jolt sideways across the gravel.
The furnace heat inside is unbearable now, every window slick with condensation, every surface smeared with spit, cum, and sweat. The headlights glow against the trees like a warning, your body silhouetted in the raw blue-green glow of the dash. His cock slams into you from behind, erratic and violent, your face pinned in the seat, his belt buckle rattling as his jeans hang low, his breath snarling against your ear. The car rocks with every thrust, the steering wheel rattling, fists pounding the glass in time with the wet, reckless slap of your pussy drenching his cock.
He slams into you one last time from behind, choking you hard against the leather until you’re drooling across the seat, body convulsing, screaming incoherently into the upholstery. Then, abruptly, he yanks free, your cunt fluttering around nothing, slick pouring down your thighs before hauling you up by the cuffs like you weigh nothing. The door creaks open, cold night air slicing into your sweat-slick skin as he drags you out of the car, bare and dripping, wrists still bound. The engine growls behind you, headlights blazing into the dark trees, neon dashboard glow bleeding onto your body like a stage light.
You barely find your footing before he shoves you hard against the side of the car, your chest colliding with the fogged window so violently it shudders. Your cheek smears the condensation, breath fogging it again with every gasp, while your tits flatten against the cold glass. “Stay the fuck there,” he snarls, one hand knotting in your hair, the other dragging your hips back just enough to slam his cock into you from behind in one brutal stroke. The car rocks with the impact, windows rattling as his belt buckle clinks against your ass with every thrust.
You’re screaming, your voice echoing across the empty lot, half-sobbing, half-laughing, manic with cock-drunk need. The cuffs clatter against the roof as he pins your arms high, your ass bouncing back against his hips as the glass squeaks beneath your body. His hand smacks your ass raw, spit dripping down the curve before he rubs it into the sting, then shoves his fingers into your mouth when you try to cry out. “Open wider,” he snarls, cock slamming deep enough to make the glass tremble. “I want the whole street to hear my slut choking.”
The headlights blaze on your bodies, every thrust painting your reflection in the glass, your eyes rolled back, tits flattened and streaked with condensation, his broad frame clothed and brutal behind you, grinding you against the car like he’s trying to fuck you straight through the window. Your cum smears across the glass in filthy streaks, your breath painting it opaque as he pounds you harder, faster, erratic. The sound is manic: cuffs rattling, wet squelch of your pussy, the slap of skin on skin, your muffled screams into the glass.
“Look at you,” he growls into your ear, voice shaking with how hard he’s thrusting. “Naked, cuffed, fucked against the window with the headlights on—anyone could drive by right now and see you dripping down my cock. And you’d love it, wouldn’t you? You’d love them knowing you’re nothing but mine.” He bites down on your neck, sucking until you sob, his hips jackhammering into you, brutal, erratic, until your knees give and the only thing holding you up is his cock and his hand tangled in your hair.
You lose yourself completely, convulsing against the glass, your scream fogging it white as your body gives out, squirting mess down your thighs. He groans, snarling into your neck, his thrusts uneven, manic, before he buries himself to the hilt and empties inside you, hot and thick, cum dripping down your legs and streaking the car door. His voice is low and final, rasping against your ear as you tremble wrecked and cuffed against the glass: “That’s mine. Every scream, every mess, every filthy mark on this car—mine.”
Your cheek squeaks against the fogged glass every time he slams forward, the window shaking with each brutal thrust. The cuffs bite into your wrists where he’s pinned them high above your head, metal rattling against the roof, and your moans smear the glass white with breath. His voice rasps into your ear, hot and feral, every word a knife. “Look at my slut, face fucked into the window, dripping down her thighs in front of the whole fucking world. You think anyone driving by wouldn’t know you’re mine?” He grinds deeper, the head of his cock hitting so hard you sob, the sound muffled against the condensation. “Say it. Say you love being my public whore.”
Your voice cracks, words spilling frantic against the glass. “I love it—I love it, Jeno—fuck—your whore, your slut—make me show everyone—I’ll spread for you anywhere—please, don’t stop, please!” Your thighs quiver, slick smearing down the car door, and he groans darkly, watching the mess streak shiny in the headlights. He spits on your back, a hot, wet smack, then rubs it into the curve of your ass before spanking it hard, the crack echoing into the night. “Good little slut. You’re gonna leave this car dripping with my cum so everyone knows who owns you.”
He fists your hair, yanking your head back so your face lifts just enough for your eyes to catch your reflection in the glass, mascara streaked, mouth open and drooling, tits smeared flat against the fog. “See that?” he snarls, rutting harder, the car rocking sideways on its shocks. “That’s what a cock-drunk whore looks like. That’s you. You think anyone would believe you’re anything else after seeing you beg like this?” His cock slams deep and raw, each thrust punctuated by the squeak of leather and the rattle of steel.
You choke on sobs but still scream it, shameless and loud, your breath fogging the glass with every word. “I’m your whore—I’m your cock-drunk whore—fuck, Jeno, I’m nothing without you, please keep fucking me, I need it, I need your cum, mark me, own me, ruin me!” The headlights blaze across your twisted reflection as his growl tears through the night, his hips snapping so hard the glass shudders.
He snarls into your hair, “You’ll get every drop. You’ll leak me down your legs all the way home. And tomorrow, when you’re still sore, you’ll remember everyone could’ve seen you taking it like a filthy little bitch.”
summary: mark needed a roommate as soon as possible, and luckily his problem is solved when you end up moving in. you’re sweet and can hold your own in a smoke session, but as you grow closer he’s caught in a dilemma—is it normal to think about you as much as he does?
wc: 4.4k | genre: fluff, smut | 18+ mdni
cw: weed use, slightly jealous!mark, masturbation, oral (receiving), voyeurism-ish, unprotected pinv sex (do not do), pull out method, pet names: baby
mark’s pov of roomie high, can be read alone!
if you asked mark lee about one good thing that happened to him this year, he’d probably talk about you—not that he’d ever admit it to your face.
especially since he lives with you.
before the two of you became roommates, your circles of friends tended to overlap and he’d seen you a couple of times, learning your name in passing, yet never having an actual conversation.
even if he wanted to, he never paid much mind outside of his immediate circle. life was pretty hectic—he was adjusting to a new job and had just moved to a new 2-bedroom apartment with a friend.
it seemed like he was out of luck when only 3 months into his lease his roommate made the brash decision to move in with his on-and-off girlfriend in hopes that their relationship would stabilize. his soon to be ex-roommate was aware it was a little toxic, super apologetic, but certain about his decision.
mark understood, kind of, but he still had to find a roommate before his bank account was run dry.
it felt like an answered prayer when haechan called him over to you at a random kickback. you were visibly distressed, and though you tried to stop your shared friend, haechan blabbered on and on about how you were looking for a new smoke-friendly apartment and roommate.
it was safe to say mark might not have been in his right judgement after smoking a bowl and a half by this point in the night, but he couldn’t see any downside to this.
you needed a place, he needed a roommate.
you liked smoking, he liked smoking.
plus, if haechan trusted you enough to suggest this arrangement, he thought he could, too.
taking in your nervous form and eyes darting between him and haechan, the words left his mouth before he could even stop them.
“i mean, i’m cool with it, if you are..?”
your eyes widened as if you didn’t expect him to agree, and you responded after a brief pause.
“..yeah, we can talk about it after today,” you muttered quietly, and something about the way you looked at him made the back of his neck tingle, but the feeling was quickly overshadowed by his relief at solving his apartment problem.
it started a bit awkward, with the two of you walking on eggshells and being overly considerate of the other. mark knew he couldn’t live that way, however, and after resolving himself, he decided to break the ice the way he knew best—with a little weed.
he grabbed his shoebox of supplies, finding you in the living room.
“hey dude, uh.. house-warming smoke?” he had asked shyly, and your eyes lit up at the offer, lips parting in a bright smile as you accepted happily.
he liked that look on you, finding himself smiling, too.
he rolled you a joint to share, and after a few back and forths, he found himself in comfortable conversation with his new roommate. you brightened as time passed, breaking into giggles and fits of rambling, and the two of you talked about all kinds of things well into the night.
he went to sleep that night with just one thought—he could really get used to this.
and he did, setting a new routine of ending nights with roomie meals and smoke sessions whenever your schedules aligned.
sometimes the two of you knock out on the couch at some point during the night, and when he wakes up and shakes you to get you to go to your bed, your cute groggy whines for 5 more minutes have him falling back asleep right beside you.
the longer you live together, the more he notices how being around you has affected him.
he tries not to stare when you walk around in those thin pajama shorts of yours, oversized t-shirts sometimes making it look like you don’t have them on at all.
when you get all dolled up for a night out, he wonders if you’re meeting with someone who will actually appreciate how good you look.
he finds himself dropping by your work every once in a while, too, walking home with you after picking up some food—usually something he knows you like.
he’s gotten used to falling asleep on the couch next to you, wondering how it would feel to have you just a bit closer. it stings a little when he wakes up to your side of the couch empty.
he doesn’t know exactly what compels him to do all of this, to feel like this, but he does know that he really, really likes having you around.
maybe a little too much—maybe a little more than a good roommate and friend should.
the night after a particularly heavy smoke session, he wakes up to you trying to be as quiet as possible in the kitchen. he groans as he stretches, groggy as he tries to rub the sleep from his eyes.
“if you’re making coffee can i also get a cup, please? i’m gonna be fighting for my life at work today..” he asks, having gotten used to your daily morning routines.
your laughter coming from the kitchen alerts him, and the sweet tone of your voice has him opening his eyes fully. “was already making enough for both of us.”
he sits up, gazing at you over the back of the couch, watching as you set down his mug next to your thermos on the kitchen counter.
this all feels entirely too domestic, too natural, as if the two of you are more than just people who live together—is this a normal thing? is it normal to want to join you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist?
when he finally gets up after you’ve left, he rushes to the bathroom, glaring down at the tent in his shorts. he shimmies out of his clothes, hopping into the shower. the hot water runs down his body, and he wraps a hand around his cock, hard and heavy. he runs his thumb over his tip, hissing at the sensation.
it’s not normal.
morning wood is a natural thing, yes, but as he jerks himself furiously, biting his bottom lip to keep his groans to a minimum, all he pictures is you—your voice, your hair, your scent, the way you call his name so sweetly.
he finishes before he knows it, the running water quickly washing away his release. post-nut clarity hits him like a train.
he has to chill out a bit. there’s no way he just got off thinking about you.
the last thing he’d want to do is make you uncomfortable, not when his life has just started to fall into place with you in it. he doesn’t need anything complicated.
that’s what he tells himself, but when his work day gets cut short due to a busted pipe in the building, he finds himself outside the bookshop you work at 10 minutes before your shift ends.
he enters, but before he sees you, he hears you, and not just you. there’s a familiar voice he hopes isn’t who he thinks it is. he rounds one of the bookshelves, nearing the source of the noise, and the sight he’s met with makes his blood boil.
you’re there, but so is haechan, and you have your hands over his face as he grips your wrists, laughing maniacally at god knows what.
mark knows the two of you are really close friends, and it shouldn’t bother him, especially since it’s thanks to haechan that he got close to you in the first place.
but he can’t help it as his jaw clenches at the sight of you in haechan’s hold.
mark might live with you, but there’s a boundary that he doesn’t cross. he wishes that were him in haechan’s place, comfortable enough to touch you, to hold you.
he gasps as he realizes just how far his thoughts have gone just as you catch sight of him over hyuck’s shoulder. you shake your still laughing friend off while you greet him.
“mark?? what are you doing here?” you ask in surprise, and mark realizes he forgot to text you like he usually does when he comes by. his feet just took him there before he knew it.
haechan greets mark, looking between the two of you with a grin.
“i got outta work a little early so i thought i’d come by. we can get take out for dinner on the way home?” mark explains. so much for chilling out—this just amps up the domesticity even more.
“take out sounds good with me!” haechan butts in a little too happily before you can say anything.
you and mark give him a pointed look. it’s not the first time he’s invited himself over, but in this moment mark feels more irritated than ever, frustration bubbling in his throat.
hyuck smiles at the two of you for a moment before laughing again. “i’m just kidding guys, you should see the looks on your faces.” he meets mark’s eyes with look that seems to say that he knows something mark doesn’t. mark quirks an eyebrow up, but haechan just laughs, turning on his heel to head home.
“wouldn’t want to interrupt anything, see you later cuties!”
your friend is gone before either of you can say anything, and all frustration in mark’s head is replaced with panic. had haechan been reading his mind? was he that obvious?
“wha- interrupting? interrupting what?” mark turns to you with a confused face, trying to play it off.
luckily, you are quick to change the subject. “he’s just being stupid, what do you wanna get for dinner?”
mark nods, grateful at your dismissal. “hmm, i don’t know. what do you want?” he responds.
“let’s get some noodles from down the street, i’ve been craving them.” mark feels his cheekbones lift, smiling warmly at you. he loves that you’re comfortable enough to tell him what you want.
“sure, it’s on me tonight!” he offers excitedly, and you beam in response.
“thank you, markie,” you reply, and the sweet nickname hits him straight in the gut. he doesn’t show it, matching your pace as you walk.
“anything for you.”
he means it.
at home, the two of you light up before digging into your food, but something about today is a little different. maybe it’s because he’s a little guilty about what he did in the shower this morning, or maybe it’s because he’s coming to terms with how he feels about you.
it’s a little too cold in the living room, and he goes to his room to put on a hoodie. he sees another hoodie on his bed, and picturing you in it, he grabs it without another thought and comes back out, handing it to you.
he quickly realizes how stupid he must look giving you one of his hoodies when your own room is just a few steps away. “oh shit, uhh, wait my bad.. you totally could’ve just gotten one of yours.”
you shake your head, beaming cutely at him “no, i’ll take yours, too lazy to get up. thank you.”
mark really thinks he made a mistake as you put it on. the sight of you in his clothes has his stomach stirring.
settling into the couch, you’re having trouble lighting the joint, so he puts it in his own mouth, lighting it before holding it up to your lips so you can take a hit. he gazes at the way your eyelashes flutter shut as you take a hit of the joint, the way your lips wrap around it so close to his fingers.
you don’t realize what you’re doing to him, or maybe you do, but he tries to push it all down as you slowly hotbox the apartment. it’s a friday night, so you two can smoke as much as you want, having the weekend off.
and smoke you do.
as the night progresses, the two of you have made your way through 3 joints, and mark holds his pipe in hand ready to light up even more. you’re honestly both high as shit, and you both know it too. every little thing on the tv is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen, and your noodles have been long gone.
mark sees you looking at him from the corner of his eye as he takes a long drag from his pipe, handing it to you before letting the smoke seep from his lips. he chuckles at how excited you seem waiting for your turn. you take a hit and set it down.
“i’m about to be glued to this couch for the next 24 hours,” mark drawls out. he readjusts himself on the couch, letting out a borderline moan as he feels a few joints pop. the last thing he remembers is hearing you say something and feeling the couch shift before he drifts off.
a sudden vibration of his phone laying on top of his chest jolts him awake.
“what the…” he rubs his eyes. it must be well past midnight, and he looks over to your side of the couch, once again feeling that ache in his chest at the bare cushions.
he moves to get up and go to his room to lay in the comfort of his bed, still so high and way too tired to think. he almost misses a soft cry coming from the direction of your room. almost.
whipping his head in the direction of your room, he pauses, thinking he must be having a weed-induced hallucinations.
against his better judgement, he stalks very slowly to your slightly open door with the warm light from your bedside lamp peaking through. he thinks he’s hearing things until he hears it again.
but it’s not just a cry, it’s the sound of a name.
his name. in your voice.
“m-mark. oh fuck, mark.”
he slaps a hand to his mouth quietly, in disbelief at what might be behind your door, but as he approaches his suspicions are not only confirmed by another repetition of his name, but the view of you that comes into his sights.
you’re on your bed, wearing only his hoodie with your hand stuffed down your underwear. his eyes drink up your form, your chest heaving as you work yourself up. your legs are spread and your head is thrown back, moans of his name tumbling from your lips.
mark’s mouth goes dry, and he almost feels faint for a second with how much blood rushes to his head and his cock. this can’t be a high dream, right? he pinches himself. nope, not a dream.
he swallows thickly as he processes everything going on in front of him.
for a second he thinks maybe getting off to each other is a normal thing for roommates if both of you are doing it. he palms at his hardening member through his shorts.
but no, this isn’t normal, and it finally registers that you want him. you want him in the same way he wants you, and a streak of confidence runs through him.
sober mark would be hesitant, but high mark says fuck it. you’re literally calling out to him—not some rando, not haechan, you’re calling his name.
you want him to touch you, to hold you, to make you feel good, and what kind of roomie would he be if he didn’t give you what you wanted?
you don’t even notice mark come in until he’s made his way to your bed, the cushions dipping under his weight. you gasp, immediately closing your legs as your head snaps up to meet his hungry gaze.
“mark! oh my fucki- get out!” you start to ramble, clearly shocked at this situation. “i swear it’s not what it looks like.. i just-”
“what does it look like, baby?” mark comes closer to you. you immediately stop at his words, mouth opening in shock at this shift. mark continues.
“that you’re getting your pretty little self off while moaning my name? what are you thinking about?” he settles in front of your now curled up form.
“or, who are you thinking about? cause i think i can guess who,” he says lowly, lips forming a slight grin as he peers into your widened eyes.
you sit up slightly.
“mark.. you aren’t weirded out?” you ask hesitantly. weirded out is the last thing he’d be.
“why would i be? in fact-“ mark grabs your hand and leads it to his sweats, “let me show you how i’m feeling.” you gasp at the hardened tent, and his cock throbs at your touch.
“sorry for the interruption, but let’s get back to it?” mark backs up, pulling you by the waist until you’re propped on your back atop your pillows. “i’d love to give you a hand, baby,” he coos, settling between your legs.
he drinks up the sight of you. he loves you like this—wearing his clothes, looking like you’re his.
“all wrapped up in my hoodie, just like a present,” mark says lowly, his eyes moving down as he lifts up the bottom of his hoodie to meet your soaked underwear. “is all this for me?”
you seem to still be in shock, but you manage to let out a weak response.
“it’s all for you, markie.”
it goes straight to his pants and his heart, immediately pushing him into action even in his high state. he gets on his stomach to go down on you, not even bothering to take off your underwear.
he hums as his tongue meets your soaked panties, tasting you as your arousal combines with his spit.
fuck, he could stay here for hours if you’d let him.
using one hand to move your panties to the side, he slides his fingers through your slit, and you gasp at the direct contact. his tongue takes the place of his fingers, and your cries are like music to his ears.
“oh god mark, f-feels too fucking good,” you moan out. he runs a soothing hand along your thigh, loving the way you tremble under his tongue.
your eyes roll and toes curl at the pleasure, hands coming to grip his hair as he lets the mixture of his spit and your juices flow down his chin onto your bed. he groans at the feeling of your hands tugging at his hair, pressing himself even further into you.
mark buries his nose into your clit, looking up at you, and as if you sense him staring, you look back down to meet his eyes.
as soon as you meet his eyes, one last swipe of his tongue across your clit it has you cumming almost immediately.
mark stares up at you in wonder, groaning again as you throw your head up and let out a cry, legs shaking around his head as he helps you ride out your orgasm.
when he sits back up to admire his work, he swears he could cum then and there. in his sights is you still in his hoodie, eyes teary, panting from the pleasure he gave you, and underwear absolutely ruined.
“fuck, baby, you tasted too good.” he licks the remnants off his lips, and he’s so hard it hurts.
as you come down, your eyes are bleary as you stare into his, but it’s filled with so much desire telling him that even the haze of the high is still there, you both know exactly what needs to come next.
“mark, fuck me, please.”
he almost moans at your pleading, his heart doing flips at another confirmation that you want him, you need him.
“…anything for you, baby,” mark replies. he takes off his shirt and sweats, and your hands move to take his hoodie off of you when he stops you.
“no, keep it on. i need to fill you up like this,” he says, tone slightly pleading. if he was already beyond turned on seeing you get off in his hoodie, fucking you in it would be a whole different story. it’s another reminder to him that this is all real.
“condoms?” he asks.
“i’m on the pill, and i haven’t fucked anyone in a really long time,” you reply, getting slightly impatient. his chest fills with excitement at that news—he’d hate hearing about any other man being in this position.
“me too, baby.”
he lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his cock up and down your slit to coat himself in your arousal. he knows you came just a second ago, and you’re still sensitive, but he loves knowing he’s the reason for all of it.
“stop teasing.. need you so bad mark,” you groan. he grins.
“shh, need to take my time stretching you out, baby.” he latches his head onto your entrance, slowly pushing the tip in. just the tip has you seeing stars.
“fuck mark, w-why are you so big..” he has to pause at your question, trying to keep hold of his self control as he slowly inches himself in, letting you adjust.
“you’re so t-tight,” he chokes out, teeth clenching as he feels your walls start to engulf him. if he moves too fast, he knows he’ll cum too soon.
as he bottoms out, the two of you moan into each other, his forehead resting on yours as you both feel each other. you feel like you were made for him, hugging his member perfectly. like always, words seem to leave him before he even realizes what he’s saying.
“can i kiss you, dude?” mark asks a bit too innocently for the situation you’re in, and your resulting laugh sends a vibration through you that has you both moaning out.
“i can’t believe you just called me dude when your dick is literally inside of me right now, of course you can kiss me,” you give him the okay, and mark doesn’t even care that he sounded dumb, right away putting his lips on yours.
the kiss is sluggish yet deep, and he starts to move his hips ever so slightly as he deepens your kiss further. his hips start to pick up more speed gradually, and you separate from his lips as you gasp out.
you’re moaning his name and he’s moaning yours, and the only thing he can think is that you feel so fucking good around him, like you were made to take his cock.
his hips start to rut into you more desperately, his pelvis hitting your sensitive bud as deep groans leave his throat.
he watches your face as you get lost in the rocking motion, shivering as drool leaks from the side of your mouth. you’re just so pretty, and even prettier fucked out for him, probably high out of your mind still.
mark is also feeling a pleasure like no other, mind spinning as he breathes harshly. he knows he’s not gonna last long.
“fuck baby, i need you to cum on my cock.” he punctuates his words with his hand resting on your lower stomach as he starts to thumb at your clit.
your eyes shut tightly at the feeling, already reaching another high. the band in your stomach tightens and tightens as mark rubs harsh circles in tempo with his quickening thrusts, and with one last swipe it snaps.
you cum hard around him and he almost has to stop from how tight you’re gripping around him, walls pulsating as you ride out your high. unable to hold back any longer, mark pulls out, cum landing on the hoodie you’re wearing.
he collapses next to you, and the two of you catch your breath as you come down from both your sex and weed highs. he turns his head towards you, taking in how you look after he’s had his way with you.
you smile back at him, and pull at the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing.
“markie, you came all over your hoodie, how am i supposed to stay warm tonight?”
your smile turns teasing, and his lips curl up as he picks up what you’re hinting at. he rises to his knees and grabs the hem of the hoodie, pulling it up over your head.
“nah dude, i can do a way better job than that old hoodie.” mark lays back down, gathering you into his arms. he tucks you into his chest, and you seem to fit perfectly enveloped with him.
both of you have cooled down, and the feeling of your skin on his is just what he needs. his mind wanders as he feels you drift off to sleep in his arms.
this isn’t normal for roommates, but fuck that—maybe it can be for you two. maybe you don’t have to be just roomies.
and when he wakes up the next morning with you still in his hold, the aching feeling of waking up to you gone replaced by a warm feeling in his chest, he’s sure.
he takes in the way you stir under his touch, cuddling further into his chest when he runs his fingers down your arm, taking in how soft your skin is.
the way your pretty lashes flutter open, and soft sighs leave your lips when he trails kisses down your neck.
the way you both call out of work that day, unable to hold yourselves back from one round in bed and another in the shower, the two of you drifting off again after with hickeys littering your skin and nail marks streaking his.
he knows he wants to be so much more.
to be continued?
a/n: thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed!! again it isn’t technically a new fic, but i’m happy to be back writing even if it's just at this capacity, and i hope it can be a catalyst for coming up with new fics!! :D
hyuckie, his name mumbled into kisses, pressed up to every inch of him when you’re straddling his lap, making out at some godforsaken hour, his pretty lips slick with your spit, one hand resting on your hip where your shirt has ridden up, perched on top and all over him as he leans back, legs spread comfortably. and fuck, it’s like you’re pretending that his fat bulge isn’t straining against his sweats, your clothed pussy pressed to him through the layer of flimsy fabric. your pretty lips clumsily moving against his, fuck, you couldn’t possibly only want kisses when you’re practically rutting against his hard on.
but your words say otherwise, hyuck, i— i don’t know, your whine pitching in confusion, when his hand cups your clothed pussy, drool smeared across your lips as you pull away, only for his hold on your waist to tighten, locking you in close without an escape, flinching at the feeling on his palm pressing into your panties. and maybe he’s never fucked you before, but you’re lying, your panties soaked in his palm of his hand, fuck, he’s so fucking hard, surely you can tell, humping him like a dog in heat from just kisses?
come on, baby, haechan whispers, licking his bottom lip enticingly, i know you want it, deftly slipping a finger in, cold against your warm, wet folds, as your gasps cry out, only for your cries to be muffled by rough kisses, trapped in his lap as your breath is stolen harshly, your eyes clenched shut at the foreign sensation of his fingers rubbing your folds, pushing in with slick sounds of your arousal, fuck, you feel untouched, the way your pussy clenches and throbs around his fingers, a dripping mess all over his hand. your hands grasping at his shoulders, slipping against his loose t shirt, what cute muffled noises you make, and he’s only at two fingers, your resistance weakening as he curls his fingers deeper in your pussy, lewd squelches of arousal as it coats his hand, heat spreading beneath your skin as an unfamiliar sensation knots in your stomach, clinging to him and panting like a pet as haechan coerces an orgasm out of you, made such an embarrassing mess for a virgin, didn’t you?
his hands dripping with slick, chest heaving for breaths and he’s so unfazed, amused even,, especially when he’s ruined you, clothes rumpled and hair messy, lips swollen and bitten reddish, unable to catch your breath even as his fingers pull out, sticky mess coating his palm, pretty tears welling up in your dazed eyes, his wet hand grasping your chin and forcing you to look at haechan straight in the eyes. who knew you were such a dirty girl?
this one has been in drafts too long lol idk if i feel like making it longer atp
“let me touch you where you like it...let me do it for ya”
📀now playing: sweat by zayn
❯ summary: Hyuck is nothing if not a pleaser. What can he say? He just loves eating pussy—your pussy.
❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader
❯ genre: established relationship, smut
❯ words: 1.9k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, oral sex (fem!receiving), squirting, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, swearing, literally just me contributing to the haechan biggest pussy eater agenda.
Hyuck is nothing if not a pleaser.
Which sounds so generous—sweet, even—like he’s doing it just for you. But he’s not. He’s a selfish man, and nothing makes him harder, nothing gets him off faster, than pleasing, satisfying, and absolutely ruining. It’s wired into him, like instinct. Born to eat, breathe, and fuck pussy—your pussy.
And that’s exactly why he’s still up, waiting for you to get home from work. Why the second you walk through the door and drop onto the couch with a tired huff, he’s already burying his face in your neck, lips warm and greedy. And when you sigh about how your boss has been driving you insane, he nearly smiles—because he knows he’s got the perfect remedy.
A perfect remedy that starts with him carrying you to bed, tearing off your clothes to strip you bare, and putting his hands exactly where he knows you need them. His voice low, breathless, begging—“Please… just let me do this for you. Let me make it better, baby. Let me take the ache away.”
And you do. You let him give you all his attention, let him show you just how badly he wants you. And damn, it’s obvious—because he wastes no time pulling your ass to the edge of the bed and diving between your legs. His perfect, wet lips wrap around your clit, sucking, lapping, teasing.
“Fuck, Hyuck…” you whine, back arching as you try to pull away.
But that won’t do. That’s not how this works—how he works. He won’t let you run away from him. His hand presses down on your stomach, holding you in place, forcing you to stay where he can devour you the way he knows you need. Hell, he needs your pussy in the perfect spot for his mouth to do its job—taking, tasting, making you forget everything but him.
And when he sees the whites of your eyes, watches them roll all the way back in your head, he knows he’s doing exactly what he set out to do. He could watch you like this for hours—knees jerking, toes curling, chest heaving—all because of nothing but his tongue. He can’t take his eyes off you—he won’t—not when seeing you bite down on your lip to stop the noises gets him so fucking hard.
Except he wants those noises—needs them.
He pulls his lips away from your clit, pupils darkening at the sight of how puffy and swollen he’s made it—his work, his mess. Then he hooks his arms under your knees and pulls you flush against his mouth, tongue dragging a slow, filthy stripe from your soaking entrance all the way back up to your bud. The second you shudder and whine, a sick thrill shoots straight to his cock. That’s the reaction he craves—needy, helpless, all for him.
So he does it again. And again. This time letting his tongue push inside you, teasing and prodding, fucking into you with lazy strokes while his nose bumps your clit at just the right angle.
It’s all too much for you. The way his tongue moves. Your thighs twitch, hips bucking against his face, chasing every bit of friction he gives you. And despite your squirming, he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. Because the cocky bastard lives for this—lives to watch you fall apart on nothing but his mouth.
So you play his little game, propping yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze through dazed, heavy-lidded eyes. And fuck—he looks like he belongs there, buried between your legs, staring up at you with that sweet, doe-eyed look. Watching. Studying. Waiting for every twitch, every breath, every moan—so he knows exactly how to make his next move. Because somehow, he knows your body better than you do.
Hyuck notices the way your eyes go heavy, lashes fluttering, and takes it as his cue. He sinks a finger into you, knuckle deep, sliding in with ease after working you so damn wet.
Your eyes squeeze shut, a soft, desperate gasp escaping you. “Oh my god—Hyuck!”
“It’s okay, baby,” he coos. “You’re doing so good for me. So fucking hot—holy shit,” he groans low in his throat when he slips a second finger in and you take it without hesitation, clenching around him. “I don’t deserve you.”
You shake your head, barely able to keep your voice steady. “Yes you do,” you pant, eyes fluttering. “No one else—fuck—no one else could make me feel like this. Oh my god.”
He already knew that—but damn, does he love hearing you say it. Loves knowing he’s carved out space in your mind, ruined you so much that there’s no one else who even comes close.
And that’s exactly why he latches onto your clit again—rewarding you for stroking his ego. He smiles against your pussy, moaning into it, sending filthy, electric vibrations straight through your core while his fingers keep fucking you deep and relentless.
So relentless that everything next hits fast.
Your back arches off the bed, fingers fisting the sheets as his tongue flicks and sucks, perfectly synced with the curl of his fingers inside you. Your thighs try to clamp around his head, but his grip is iron-tight, keeping you spread and helpless while he works you through it.
“Hyuck—fuck—I’m gonna—” you gasp, breath catching on the edge of it. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t, baby,” he groans against you. “Wanna feel you cum on my tongue.”
And you do—your body seizing with the force of your orgasm, legs shaking, pussy clenching hard around his fingers as a cry rips from your throat. He doesn’t stop, not for a second. Just keeps licking you through it, moaning, dragging it out until you’re trembling beneath him, wrecked and breathless.
And he’s not done. He never is.
“Look at you,” he breathes, pulling away just long enough to let you catch your breath. “So fucking beautiful when you cum.” His hands are firm on your legs, keeping you spread as he leans back in, lips trailing up your inner thighs, kissing, nipping, before finally meeting your swollen pussy again. “Keep these legs open for me.”
Your body jerks, more sensitive than before, when he licks another familiar stripe up your drenched slit. He chuckles darkly. “We’re just getting started, baby.”
“Hyuck—”
“Shh, don’t talk,” he whispers, his breath hot and teasing against your sensitive skin. “Let me do this for you. I want to.”
You moan, not just because it feels so damn good, but because the fact that he wants to do this—wants to make you cum, without asking for anything in return—is so beyond hot. He licks at your pussy again, that same intoxicating desire driving him as he teases and works you over.
Your fingers thread through his hair, guiding him closer, though he doesn’t need the help. You do, though. You need something to anchor you, to ground yourself from how hot he is—how hot he’s making you, getting you to writhe and squirm for him so easily.
You can feel the heat spreading through your body, sweat starting to bead on your forehead, slipping between your breasts, and trailing down the exposed curve of your stomach. It’s almost too much, too unfair—you're laid out, wriggling beneath him, while he remains fully clothed, the outline of his cock pressing hard and solid against the fabric of his sweats.
He’s such a tease.
But Hyuck doesn’t care—because this isn’t about him. It’s all about you. How good he can make you feel, how deep he can make you burn as you sweat for him. He wants to lose himself in every inch of you.
And when he sees your skin start to slick with sweat, your thighs trembling, legs quivering like leaves, as he tastes you, he knows he’s already beyond the point of no return. He’ll forever be a man desperate to please you…
Which, frankly, is fine—because you’re certain your body belongs to him, utterly and completely. At his mercy permanently.
“Hyuck, please…I–”
You try to speak, to beg him to stop, to beg him to never stop, but all that comes out is a series of incoherent moans and gasps.
Hyuck's fingers curl inside you, stroking your sweet spot with precision, making you see stars. Your back arches off the bed, your body contorting in ways you never thought possible… and oh God—
“Hyuck—think I’m gonna—fuck!”
Your pussy starts to squirt, a rush of warm liquid spilling onto the bed as your second orgasm hits you. Hyuck’s eyes widen, lighting up with excitement. For a second, he almost just wants to watch, struck dumb by the sight, because fuck—he’s never made you do that before. But awe quickly gives way to greed. That insatiable part of him takes over—the part that needs to taste, to claim every bit of the mess you’ve made.
He groans, tongue lapping at your release, licking up every drop like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted (it is). He doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Because now he’s seen it, felt it, tasted it—all he wants is more.
“Goddamn, baby,” he growls against your pussy, lips shiny, face slick with your juices. “You’re so fucking filthy—look at this mess you made for me.”
Your cheeks flush. A part of you wants to hide, to cover your face behind trembling palms, from just how messy, how vulnerable you are. But then you remember—this is Hyuck. Your Hyuck. The man who would never let you feel embarrassed about anything—especially not for cumming like this.
His eyes flick up, wide and wild, like he’s just broken something in you… and unlocked something in himself.
“We’re doing that again, and again,” he groans, breathless, voice vibrating against your dripping cunt. “Shit—look at you. Dripping down your thighs, so fucking hot.”
You try to squirm away, legs trembling, overstimulated beyond belief—but he doesn’t let you go. Doesn’t even think about it. His hands clamp down on your hips, holding you in place.
“No, I’m not done,” he mutters, tongue already diving back in, sloppy and ruthless, licking up every drop and dragging more out of you. “Just one more, baby,” he pleads. “Give me one more—please. Would and will do anything to see you squirt like that again.”
Your body jerks with every swipe of his tongue—every slow, punishing drag across your clit. It’s too much, too slick, too wet, too hot. Your legs kick, twitching helplessly.
“Hyuck, I—fuck—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he growls, mouth never leaving your pussy. “You’re gonna cum for me again. Gonna keep cumming until this sweet little pussy begs me to stop.”
And you do. You cum again—harder this time—your whole body seizing, back arching off the bed as you scream his name. His tongue keeps moving, lips wrapping around your clit, fingers sliding back inside you, curling deep, fucking you through wave after wave of pure, maddening overstimulation.
“Fuck,” he pants, groaning as you squeeze around him. “So messy. So fucking perfect. Don’t stop—give me another one.”
And with the way his fingers keep slamming into your sweet spot, and his mouth keeps sucking like he’s addicted to the taste of you, you give him more than just another one—and then some.
Because he’ll keep going until the windows fog up, the sheets are soaked, and neither of you remembers what time it is.
| summary | haechan fucking you until you see stars and pass out.
| cw | smut, oral (f), unprotected sex, squirt, passing out 😔, pet names.
| a/n | i did this as a way to redeem myself for my accidental clickbait, FORGIVE ME YALL 🥺
To be honest, you had no idea how long you'd been there, lost in it.
It started off silly. Just a casual comment about your now very inactive sex life, shared with your friend, Haechan.
A small get-together had happened at your place earlier that night, but somehow, Haechan ended up staying way longer than planned. The conversation had drifted into the late hours, soft voices under dim lights, both of you relaxed in that quiet, familiar way that only years of friendship could create.
You talked about past relationships, about the weird things people did in bed, the good, the bad, the awkward. The air between you was even more comfortable than usual. Maybe that’s why things slipped out so easily. Things you never thought you’d admit. Things like the fact that you’ve never actually had an orgasm.
That—that caught his attention.
He looked at you a little differently after that, a spark lighting in his eyes as he leaned in just a bit and said, “I can make you get there, if you let me.”
Stupid man with stupid words. And you were just as stupid, because you really said yes.
Which brings you to the present—legs spread wide, back arching, and Haechan’s mouth glued to your cunt, his tongue working your soaked hole with shameless dedication.
How long had you been like this? You weren’t sure anymore.
Your legs were starting to ache from the position, trembling from the strain and the overstimulation. You’d long lost count of how many times he’d made you cum, even though he’d told you to keep track.
Your fingers were buried in his messy hair, tugging hard, not sure if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away. But he wasn’t giving you a choice, his tongue was relentless, thrusting into you with obscene precision, his mouth noisy, wet, ravenous.
His arms were hooked beneath your thighs, hands gripping them tightly as he anchored you in place, pulling you down even harder against his mouth.
He was devouring you, absolutely shameless, his nose brushing against your sensitive little bundle of nerves with every eager thrust of his tongue.
The room was filled with the slick, lewd sounds of wet sucking, your broken moans spilling freely, mixing with the soft, desperate hums coming from his throat, he was enjoying this. And you could feel it.
Not just in the way he moaned into you, but in the subtle grind of his hips against the mattress beneath him, chasing relief he was clearly denying himself in favor of feasting on you.
That familiar pressure began to build in your core once again, your body wound so tight it barely took anything now. And before you could even brace for it, you were cumming. Again.
Haechan groaned into you, loud and guttural, as his tongue welcomed your release like he’d been starving for it. He drank every last drop, licking you clean with long, purposeful strokes, your soft mewls only making his smile grow against your soaked, trembling cunt.
Honestly, you could’ve come again just from the sight of it.
He slowly hovered over you, capturing your lips in a messy, fevered kiss, his tongue coated with the taste of you, of both of you. It made your head spin.
You were so dazed, so far gone, that you didn’t even register the sound of his pants being pushed down, or the way he settled smoothly between your legs, hands caressing your thighs like they were something sacred.
Not until you felt him.
His cock, heavy and flushed, dragging through your folds, the tip brushing against your clit with maddening precision.
You gasped, overwhelmed, your hands flying to his arms as if to keep yourself ground, or stop him.
“Hyuck,” you whimpered, breathless and spent. “Gimme a break… please.”
He dragged his tongue slowly along your neck, warm and wet, just as his cock slid up and down your slick folds teasingly. The tip circled your entrance, barely pushing in, just enough to make your walls flutter around nothing.
“A break?” he murmured against your skin, lips curving into a smirk as he nibbled at your pulse. “After everything I gave you?” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his cock still resting right at your entrance, heat pulsing between you. “You’re so selfish, you know that?”
His hips rolled forward just enough for the head of his cock to catch on your entrance again, making you twitch. He didn’t push in, of course he didn’t. He just stayed there, smirking.
“All those pretty sounds you made,” he whispered, trailing his hand up your thigh, spreading you wider. “All those orgasms I handed to you…”
He nipped at your jaw, gentle but firm.
“And now you want to rest?” He chuckled, the sound vibrating through your skin. “After laying there, whining, taking everything like a needy little pillow princess?”
His fingers found your clit again, drawing slow, torturous circles, just light enough to make your whole body jolt, overstimulated and aching.
“You should say thank you, pretty,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours. “And let me take care of you, hm?”
You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as your hips gave a weak jerk toward his fingers, your body betraying any protest your lips might’ve formed. You were exhausted, wrecked, even, but the way he touched you, spoke to you, looked at you… there was no way you could say no.
Your fingers curled tightly around his biceps, bracing yourself. “T… Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible, thick with embarrassment.
He chuckled, a low, condescending sound that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “I didn’t know you were obedient like that,” he teased, voice dripping with mockery.
And before you could even fire back, before you could think, he drove into you with a sharp, hard thrust. Your breath caught in your throat, a startled gasp slipping out as your body clenched around him instantly, your walls molding to every inch, the sudden stretch stealing whatever witty comeback you had.
His moan was downright pornographic and it had you clenching around him nonstop. The way he throbbed inside you, thick and heavy, made it obvious he was in heaven, or at least somewhere damn close.
He started to move, slow at first, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm that let you feel every single inch of him. And fuck, he was savoring it. Savoring the way your slick, gummy walls pulled him in greedily, clenching and fluttering like your body didn’t want to let him go.
But his slow, gentle thrusts didn’t last long, his hands clamped down on your hips, fingers digging in with an almost bruising grip as he picked up the pace. His thrusts turned rough, relentless, his hips slamming into yours with enough force to rock your body up the bed with each movement, as he pounded your already sensitive, abused pussy.
Slick, wet slaps echoed through the room, the sound of your cunt squelching obscene as he drove in deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot again and again like he knew it by heart.
“Fuck,” he moaned, voice ragged, breath catching as you clenched down on him tight. “Gimme one—fuck, baby, gimme one more.”
It wasn’t like he even needed to ask. At this point, you had no control over your body, especially not with the way he was pounding into you while his fingers pinched your clit, only to soothe it with a teasing, gentle rub right after.
Your entire body responded to him like a live wire, tension building faster than you could process. Then, without warning, a gush of wetness burst from you, soaking his lower abdomen and the sheets below as your body trembled violently, nerves on fire from the overwhelming pleasure.
“Fuck—look at that,” he moaned, eyes wide in surprise, a slightly disbelieving smile curling on his lips. “So messy for me. So fucking good.”
You spasmed beneath him, body jerking as every muscle finally gave out, going limp all at once. He was so turned on by how completely he’d unraveled you, it took him a few seconds to even register it, until he stilled inside you, balls deep, as he spilled hot ropes of cum into your waiting cunt.
“Shit,” he hissed, breath ragged, brushing damp hair from your face and noticing how your eyes fluttered, your body still twitching softly. “You passed out?” he asked with a soft laugh as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Yeah… I’ll take that as a thank you.”
a jaehyun ver. for I Love Nerds perhaps 🤓☝🏻??? going crazy over him in glasses ever since the content dropped HOW IS HE REAL??? 😭
nerd jaehyun earnestly and eagerly telling you allllll about the intentionality behind music theory and whole time you’re just thinking about how good he would feel on top of you.
when you decide to cut to the chase and put your hand on his leg, he just freezes, looks at it, looks up at you, and then smiles widely and goes back to talking (he has no idea what you’re doing). you’re getting a teeny bit frustrated at this point so you slip your hand up higher and maybe you even squeeze a little bit.
fortunately, this definitely gets his attention, and his sentence is rudely interrupted by his sudden, flustered coughing fit. whole time he’s coughing, his torso is pivoting and moving this way and that but you can’t help but notice that he’s doing everything in his power not to move the one leg that you’re holding onto while his body is wracked with coughs and dry hacking.
as ridiculous as he looks right now, his loud medical emergency unwittingly drawing attention to yourselves tucked away in the corner of the library, you can’t help but be endeared to him.
“jaehyunnnn,” you whine when he’s done coughing up what sounds like his gallbladder or some other internal organ. “i wanna go back to my dorm.”
his face falls—and it falls fast. “oh, i’m sorry,” he mumbles woefully, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he sniffs once and looks away from you.
“sorry?” you ask, confused. “for what?”
“for talking too much and making you want to go home,” he answers sadly, his brows starting to knit together in the middle as his emotions get the better of him. “sorry, i just got so excited, and i know you don’t care, so i shouldn’t have gone on the way i did—“
“jaehyun, i think you’re confused.” you say slowly. “i’m going to my dorm,” you explain, pointing at yourself.
he nods slowly in understanding.
you turn your hand to point at him. “and you’re going to my dorm.”
his eyes widen and he turns to look at you so suddenly that it sends his glasses slipping halfway down his nose. “i’m going to your dorm…?” he asks, a tinge of excitement and relief creeping into his voice.
“yes.” you nod.
“with you.”
“yes, with me.” you hold back your laugh.
“we’re going together.”
“yes, sir.”
“to your dorm.”
“indeed.”
“where we’ll be together… alone…”
“most definitely…”
“in your dorm.”
“you know what?” you chuckle, rising to your feet. “you take as long as you need to process this. i’m gonna head to the bathroom and you should be packing up or packed by the time i get back, okay?” you run your fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands into a messy, tousled look that screams effortlessly handsome, and if you’re not mistaken, he shivers a bit at your touch when your nails reach the back of his neck. experimentally, you drag your nails along the nape of his neck and lightly across the side of his jaw until you’re playfully tugging at his earlobe affectionately.
you maybe expected a giggle or a chuckle perhaps from him; maybe even a “stop, that tickles” or something of the sort. what you didn’t expect in the slightest was for his eyes to roll all the way back into his head and flutter shut as he lets out a low, delighted groan.
“oh?” you giggle, stroking the shell of his ear with one finger.
“holy shit, keep doing that,” he grunts.
“mm, yeah? feels good?” you can’t hide your smile and the smugness it’s tinted with, but it’s not like it matters—jaehyun is so wrapped up in your ministrations on his head that his eyes are shut tightly and his mouth is hanging open ever so slightly, shallow, almost ragged breaths leaving him.
“feels so good.” he admits in a slurred mumble as you proceed to scritch and scratch gently at his head with one hand and massage his ear with the other. to your surprise, he reaches up and loops an arm around the backs of your legs, pulling you between his slowly parting legs to bring you directly in front of him.
“hi,” you hum sweetly, and he looks up at you, pupils blown out with desire and an utterly overwhelmed look on his face.
“hi,” he mumbles shyly, watching you intently. when you resume massaging his ear, he turns his head in so his lips can press against the inside of your forearm. it starts off slowly, a brushing against each other so light that you think you imagined it. but when he sighs softly, his warm breath moistening your skin before he unmistakably presses his lips to your skin, you know it’s not all in your head.
he looks up at you for a reaction and when you just watch him wordlessly, intrigued and a bit amused with your head cocked to the side, he does it again. and again, lips shifting further up your forearm—and further still, until his lips are smooching the crook of your arm and you’re giggling in surprise—and even still, his fingers hurriedly pushing up your sleeve so he can kiss the newly exposed flesh.
“jaehyun,” you hum to get his attention.
“mm?” he hears you, you’re pretty sure, but it’s obvious he’s not truly listening as he kisses a path from your inner elbow, down your forearm, and to your hand, where he places kiss after kiss after kiss—your wrist, the very center of the palm of your hand, the fingertips of your middle and ring fingers, and when you attempt to pull your hand away to tilt his head up so you’re looking at each other, he grumbles something whiny in protest and his eyes scan your surroundings as if he’s looking for something.
your curiosity gets the better of you and you can’t help but ask. “jaehyun, baby, what are you looking around for?”
“i wanted to make sure you and i were actually alone and that nobody’s watching us.” he murmurs, but there’s an urgency to it you haven’t heard from him before, and that coupled with the dark, unwavering look in his eyes only piques your interest further.
“why?” you say slowly, dragging the word out a bit to emphasize your confusion.
“so i can do this,” he mumbles, eyes darting briefly around for good measure before he’s clutching the hand he’s been kissing and bringing your fingers to his mouth, pressing soft, gentle kisses to each pad of your fingers as you giggle shyly in delight. “feels good?” he murmurs, and you are absolutely certain you’re not hallucinating the suggestive, teasing lilt to his voice.
“yeah,” you sigh blissfully, and he chuckles with your fingers still pressed to his lips.
“what about this?” he doesn’t even give you time to reply before he’s leaning forward and taking your middle and index fingers into his mouth. you gasp in surprise—because of course you do; the very hot music nerd has you between his legs and your fingers in his warm, wet mouth and while you want this, oh, so very badly, this is not how you anticipated it to go.
he’s sucking on them eagerly, fingers looped tightly around your wrist so you couldn’t yank it away even if you wanted to. when his tongue comes into play, the mischievous wet muscle gliding along your fingers and swirling around them, you realize you might just be a goner.
he smirks—yes, smirks—when a small moan escapes you, and he slowly pulls your fingers from his mouth but doesn’t release your hand from its position, your fingertips dangling pointlessly just a breath away from his waiting mouth.
to your surprise, he stands up and haphazardly shoves his laptop and notebook in his bag before slinging it over his shoulder. he stretches his hand out for your bag, which you hand him readily without even really processing it fully. with a firm grasp on your bag and his bag securely on his back, he nods to you in agreement and starts to lead you out of the library.
“where are we going?” you wonder aloud as he leads you through the shelves and study tables with a sureness, a confidence and an energy that, once again, you don’t think you’ve ever seen from him.
“your dorm, baby. you forgot so soon?” he has the absolute audacity to tease you in response, a playful grin on his face as he regards you carefully.
all you can do is chuckle in response, now eagerly anticipating the moment you can get your revenge.
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