maria, 26, she/her, writing & reading, enfp, lame college graduate
i post fics here and retweet everything i enjoy reading, tags here
materlist under the cut ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||||
i write for:
nct
i write:
fluff
smut
angst
some dark concepts: toxic relationships, mental illness, violence, poverty, death, omegaverse, hybrid
i do not write dark concepts: dubcon, noncon, racism, sexuality, suicide, murder
requests are always open and you can always message me .ᐟ.ᐟ
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ nct dream:
mark:
my boy next door (fluff, angst) … coming soon
sleepyhead (fluff, smut)
first sleepover (fluff, smut) - request
renjun:
… nothing yet
jeno:
liability (fluff, angst)
reading between the lines (fluff, angst, smut) - request
haechan:
would you film my s*x tape? (fluff, smut)
halo (angst, smut)
just the tip! (smut, fluff, light angst). - request
with the band (smut, fluff, angst)
jaemin:
worth it (fluff, smut) - request
new years kiss (fluff) … coming soon
eavesdropping (angst, fluff, smut)
chenle:
special day (fluff, angst) … coming soon
jisung:
… nothing yet
please remember that fiction ≠ reality, everything i write is purely fanfiction. only the names of the idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life .ᐟ.ᐟ minors: please be careful with what you consume, all of my fics have warnings at the beginning.
all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.
hi yall sorry i havent been posting any new stories, i work constantly and its lowkey #depressing and when i get home i never feel like doing anything. so i havent really had to motivation to write anything for a while, idk when the writers block will go away but in the mean time i will continuing reblogging stories and stuff! thank u all 🫶🏻
haechan. “you’ve got to be kidding me.” even the boy is surprised to hear him laughing mockingly. for haechan, how dare he ask you out when he’s right next to you? do you actually like him? you must be messing with him. pure arrogance—of course he’s not jealous, because if he were, then you’d be his girlfriend, and you’re not, but the thought of you being with someone else really bugs him. maybe next time he should fuck you so hard that you forget everyone but his name.
jeno. “she’s busy.” it’s hard to read his expression right now, but he hopes the other guy will feel intimidated enough by it that he’ll end up canceling his date with you; if not, then he’ll have to give him a reason to do so. he’s not the type to pick fights, and he’s certainly not possessive, but when it comes to you, he really wants to make it clear that you’re only available for him. no one else. he’ll spend the whole night looking for an excuse to beat the crap out of him, because then, you’d go with him to tend to his knuckles, and completely forget about that jerk.
mark. “ah, seriously?” after treating everything like a game and joking around, you’d think he wouldn’t act so hurt or offended, but he does. it was clear that there were no strings attached; he used to be fine with that because of the long list of women he had, but up until that moment, he hadn’t really stopped to think that you might also be also seeing people, let alone that you were doing it right there in front of him. he felt that if he didn’t overthink it and stayed oblivious, he could handle it, but he’s always known that you wanted to take things seriously, and he just wasn’t ready —until now.
chenle. “am i interrupting?” he is, in fact, and he couldn’t care less. he also doesn’t care that you’re giving him a look that’s somewhere between confused and angry, because the guy ends up backing off. maybe that means you both feel the same way about it. going out? no way. commitment wasn’t his thing and you knew it—maybe that’s why you were so eager to say yes to that loser. if you were talking about dating, chenle could take you on dates, but you didn’t want that, so don’t even dream of doing it with others, when the right thing is to do it only with him.
renjun. “she’s not interested.” he makes the guy leave before you have a say about it, and now he think he’s a douchebag. what if he did the wrong thing? suddenly he feels sick. of course he knew the whole thing was bound to end badly, because he’s the type to get swept up in fleeting feelings; he just wanted to at least have a chance, even if you were just using him. suddenly he feels the need to undo what he’s done because he knows you’re not gonna choose him. but why you end up laughing and then holding his hand, guiding him somewhere where you two can kiss?
jaemin. not a word about it except for the frightening vibe he gives off. even answering feels hard, and you end up stammering that you’ll think about it. jaemin won’t let you do that, of course. his plan is to get that idea out of your head by kissing you so hard that you forget you even thought it. still, it feels a little disheartening to think that you might have said yes. if he hadn’t been there, would you have agreed? if you hadn’t looked at him first, would you have said yes? damn, he must be falling for you, then.
jisung. “d’you want me to leave?” after planting a kiss on your lips right in front of the guy, he dares to look at him through his eyelashes while his arm wraps around your shoulders; there’s no way he’d actually leave the two of you alone at this point, right? he just hasn’t quite grasped the whole thing, he’s not cut out for casual things; he just wanted to try it because you suggested it. the last thing he knows is that he’s actually into you, unapologetically. he's just too afraid to ask, but if that’s what you really want it then he’s not gonna stand in the middle of you getting it. cause he wants you to be happy, and he knows he can’t give you that, because he’s not the best for you.
summary: in which you felt fed up with chenle and walked out after a fight, but you were uncertain whether he’d make an effort to save your relationship.
pairing: chenle x fem!reader
genre: angst, fluff
word count: 2.1k
you were having an argument with chenle. you tried to tell him that you felt a little uneasy about one of his female friends, but he downplayed your emotions and it irked you.
"don't you think you're being unfair?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice. "you're allowed to be jealous of every single person you think is hitting on me, but i'm not even allowed to feel upset that you have a close friend who obviously likes you?"
chenle responded dismissively. "it doesn't matter if someone likes me. all my friends know i'm head over heels for you. besides, none of my friends have openly told me they like me. i can't say the same to you and your so-called guy friends."
"i already rejected him," you countered, your voice rising. "how many times do i have to tell you that?"
"it doesn't look like you did because he's obviously still expecting something from you." he retorted, crossing his arms.
"i don't know how else to convince you. why do you always do this? every time i try to tell you how i feel, you always find a way to somehow turn it around on me, and it ends with you feeling more upset than i am."
"look, you don't need to worry about me. i couldn't care less about anyone who might like me. but you? you're too soft with that friend of yours. you might not see it, but it's obvious to everyone else how he hangs all over you. and you're not doing enough to stop it."
"but i don't like him, i never did and i never will. you also have nothing to worry about. why can't you let it go?"
chenle sighed, his eyes narrowing. "the same reason you can't let go of your concerns about my friend. no matter what i say, you're still upset and you're still jealous. that's exactly how i feel."
"so what do you want me to do?" you asked, exasperated.
"nothing. you can't do what i want."
"you want me to stop being friends with him? is that it?" you asked, incredulous. "will you do it for me if i ask you the same thing?" you challenged him. but chenle didn't respond; he just rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.
you felt so pissed off. chenle was always so unfair to you whenever you had a fight. you almost screamed at him to get out, but then you remembered you were at his house. you grabbed your things and turned to the door. you were about to leave when you heard chenle's voice.
"you're leaving because of something so petty? seriously?" he said with a scoff.
you gave him a dirty look, your hand on the doorknob. "you were about to storm off to your room and shut me out anyway. we obviously don't want to see each other right now, so what's the point of me staying?" you didn't wait for him to respond. you immediately left, slamming the door behind you.
you knew you were being immature, but so was chenle. you weren't about to let him slam the door on you again, making you feel shitty and guilty, when he clearly didn't feel the same remorse. somehow, even when the fight was his fault, you always ended up being the first one to apologize. that made your stomach churn with resentment.
you weren't always like this. during the first few months of your relationship, you and chenle rarely fought. even when you did, they were just small arguments and you would always make up immediately. but now, almost two years into the relationship, after the honeymoon phase had worn off, things had changed dramatically. you started getting into more frequent and intense fights, and the tolerance and understanding that you had at the start had also faded.
honestly, part of the reason why you're always the first one to give in is that, no matter how angry you get at your boyfriend, you can never stay mad at him for long. you fear that if both of you remain stubborn and no one's going to swallow their pride, the fight would escalate and break the two of you apart. chenle, on the other hand, always seems to have no problem ignoring you for a long time. it only intensifies your frustration and hurt, making you feel even more upset with him than you already are.
you've decided you won't give in this time, no matter what. you're scared that he might do the same, matching your stubbornness with his own. but if he can't even swallow his pride for you, the person he claims to love most, then maybe you're better off apart.
you don't want that though — not really. your relationship, despite its flaws, means too much to you. you just hope he does things differently this time.
after leaving chenle's house, you returned to your own place. you tried to sleep, but your anger and frustration had morphed into a gnawing worry that made your stomach tied up in knots. deep down, you weren't confident that he would do right by you this time. the realization made you feel conflicted. is it really worth staying with him if this is how he consistently makes you feel?
the thought sent a wave of sadness through you. despite everything, you loved him deeply. the idea of your relationship ending made your chest tighten with fear. you didn't want this to be the final straw.
tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over onto your pillow. as you cried silently in your room, a mix of emotions washed over you; love, frustration, hope and disappointment all tangled together. eventually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted off into a fitful sleep.
your last conscious thought was a small hope that when you woke up in the morning, you'd see his name on the screen accompanied by an apology you'd been waiting for.
chenle sat by the sofa, his eyes fixed on his phone, waiting for your call. since you had walked out after your fight the night before, you still hadn't come knocking on his door. this was the first time you hadn't talked for this long after an argument. fear started creeping up because of the prolonged silence from you. his chest tightened at the thought that you might have finally decided you'd had enough of him and realized you deserved better. he couldn't bear the thought of losing you. as the day was coming to an end, the setting sun cast long shadows across his room, signaling the passage of time and deepening his anxiety.
he could no longer sit still and wait for you to come to him. what was stopping him from coming after you anyway? he didn't know. but he realized he had been selfish for always waiting for you to mend things all this time. chenle felt like he could lose you easily to other people; you were surrounded by many who liked you and wanted to be with you. because of that, he always felt threatened. letting you come to him first after a fight somehow gave him a sense of security that you loved him enough not to let others steal you away from him.
but he realized now how dumb that was. instead, he could end up losing you because of his inaction. he snapped out of his reverie and grabbed his car keys, walking hastily through the door.
you heard someone ring your doorbell, and you checked to see who it was. your heart leaped in both happiness and relief at the sight of chenle standing outside your door.
if you weren't in a fight with him, you would laugh at how ridiculous he looked wearing sunglasses. you were pretty sure the sun had already set and it was dark outside.
you were feeling different kinds of emotions as you stood there. relief that he had come, nervousness about what he might say, and a stubborn remnant of hurt from your fight. you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was to come as you opened the door, finally seeing him up close.
"can i come in?" chenle asked quietly. you didn't respond verbally, but opened the door wider, allowing him to enter.
you closed the door slowly before turning around to face him. chenle stood in the middle of your living room, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.
you leaned back against the door, arms crossed protectively over your chest, waiting expectantly for him to speak.
"i'm sorry," he said, his voice was soft and sounded a bit tired. "i'm sorry about everything. i was only thinking about myself and took your words lightly. i kept dismissing your feelings because i was blinded by my own jealousy. i didn't realize i was hurting you." he stepped closer, gently cradling your face in his hands. "please, forgive me. i don't want to lose you over some stupid fight. i know i haven't been the best at showing it, but i love you so much."
his words caused tears to well up in your eyes. for the past 24 hours, you had felt an uncomfortable tightness in your chest, each second away from him making you fear you were closer to losing him. you knew you both had much to discuss, and the way you communicated with each other needed improvement. but at that moment, you felt a surge of relief knowing that despite all the fights, chenle still loved you.
"thank you for coming to me, and i'm sorry too," you said, holding the hand that was caressing your face. "i have so many things to say... but first, can i take off your sunglasses? they're distracting." as you removed them, you felt your heart clenched at the sight. chenle's eyes were red and puffy, evidence of hours spent crying. the thought of him crying by himself made your sadness deepen, triggering your own tears as you immediately embraced him. "i'm so sorry for leaving you alone last night."
you didn't usually walk out during your fights, and your departure likely made chenle realize that this argument was unlike any other. he must have thought you had reached your limit. you now understood the depth of his fear of losing you, mirroring your own fear of losing him.
chenle encircled you in his arms, resting his head on your shoulder and burying his face in the crook of your neck. his embrace conveyed how much he had missed you.
"no, i am sorry. i deserved it," he murmured against your skin. "if you hadn't left, i probably would've done the same thing as before and not realized what i'd done wrong. you've been patient with me all this time. i'm sorry for all the times i ignored how you feel. i'll be better for you, i promise." he said, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.
as you stood there in each other's arms, you both silently acknowledged the work ahead to strengthen your relationship. the warmth of your reconciliation filled the room, replacing the tension that had hung between you just moments before.
you and chenle were now cuddling on your bed. your chin rested on top of his head while gently running your fingers through his hair. the simple gesture made his heart flutter. his arm draped comfortably around your waist as he nestled against you, closing his eyes and basking in the peaceful aftermath.
as you lay there, feeling warm and loved, you felt so relieved. the tension from your fight completely melted away, and you felt even more in love.
chenle shifted slightly, tilting his head to look up at you. "i think i've figured out the secret to never fighting again."
you raised an eyebrow. "huh? what's that?"
"we just stay like this forever." he replied with a grin. "can't argue if we're too busy cuddling."
"tempting offer, but we'll get hungry eventually." chenle pretended to consider this seriously.
"then we take turns getting snacks while the other one guards the cuddle spot."
"guard it from what exactly?" he shrugged, snuggling closer.
"i don't know. cuddle thieves? it's a very coveted position, you know." you rolled your eyes in amusement.
"you're ridiculous."
"yeah," he leaned up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "but you love me." he whispered against your mouth. you couldn't help but smile and steal another kiss from him.
as you snuggled back together, you felt calm and happy. in that moment, holding each other close, you both silently promised to stick together. you knew your love hadn't just survived, it had grown even stronger.
★ PAIRING: sociallyawkward!semi-agoraphobic!Reader x Neighbor!Jeno
☆ WORD COUNT: 13.9k~
★ GENRE(S): strangers to friends, friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, smut
☆ SUMMARY: You move to a new city, hoping the change will help you get out of your comfort zone. When you meet your neighbor Jeno, he ends up becoming a friend who turns your world upside down.
☆★ NOTES: I’m sorry to announce that this is probably the last fic I’ll ever write lowkey. I’m going back to college and haven’t really felt the motivation to write lately. I won’t be deactivating my account, and my ask box will still be open if you want to chat but response might be slow TT. I made sure to write this one with love. Thanks for all the support!
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
Your life was simple. Work, sleep, eat. Rinse and repeat. Day after day, it was the same unchanging cycle, and strangely, you didn’t mind. There was a comfort in the predictability, a sense of stability that kept everything steady. This routine might have been repetitive, but it was reliable and safe. For as long as you could remember, you had lived by a quiet motto: Simplicity is security.
You didn’t go out much, only if absolutely necessary. Your hobbies were mostly indoor activities like reading, drawing, playing video games, or sewing small projects. The only thing that kept you from the comfort of your home most days was your job, but even that was about to change. You had recently been hired for a work from home position that paid more than your previous job. When you found out that the new role would require you to move to a different town, you didn’t feel even a flicker of hesitation. Some might have called you a shut-in, but you saw it differently. To you, it was about protecting your peace
The day you moved in the neighborhood was quiet. Your apartment was tucked away on a cozy corner of the street. It was within walking distance of a small shopping center just a few blocks away, making errands convenient without the hustle and bustle. The apartment was a massive building that looked like it had seen better days. It resembled an old dormitory, its brick walls are weathered and moss creeps into the cracks. Despite its worn exterior, there was a certain character to the building. There was something warm and inviting about it.
The weather was dreary, gray clouds hung heavy in the sky threatening a light drizzle. Despite the gloom, you found yourself surprisingly upbeat. Maybe it was the excitement of a fresh start, or perhaps it was the comfort of knowing you’d be in a familiar routine soon enough. Whatever it was, you clung to that small flicker of optimism as you carried your boxes inside.
The air inside smells faintly of old wood and dust. The wear and tear were evident. The paint on the wooden trim was peeling, and in some spots, the stairs bore dents and scratches where footsteps had worn down the wood over the years.
You sat the last box from the U-Haul down with a satisfying thud. your arms aching from the day's work.The building had no elevators. Instead it just had a large, winding staircase that spiraled from the ground floor up to the upper levels. When you first received the keys to your apartment, you’d immediately complained about the lack of an elevator. The landlord had simply shrugged and explained that the old elevators had been deemed a hazard. The maintenance team had decided they were too risky to repair, so they’d been walled off and left untouched.
You breathe out a sigh, wiping your brow as you toss your keys onto the small table near the door. Your shoulders slump as you peel off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor. “I’ll return the U-Haul tomorrow,” you think with a quiet resignation. You have done enough today.
You settle onto the cool wooden planks of your walkway, stretching out on your back to cool down after the long day. Your eyelids flutter as fatigue sinks in. Just as you're about to drift off, faint voices drift through the open window. It sounded like playful bickering and laughter. You try to ignore it, but curiosity nudges you. You’re nosy by nature, Besides, nothing much ever happens in your quiet life. A bit of drama never hurt, especially when it’s not your own. You sit up slowly and glance outside. Through the window, you see a moving truck parked next to yours. Standing on the sidewalk is a broad-shouldered figure, patiently waiting as his smaller friend hurriedly loads boxes into his arms. You can’t see their faces, your window’s too high and the boxes obscure most of your view. You catch snippets of their voices. There is some teasing, some frustration, but mostly playful banter. You watch as they come and go, tossing boxes off the truck and joking around. Their laughter echoes softly in the quiet street.
After a few moments, you yawn and decide it’s time to retreat. You pull the blinds shut, feeling the tired ache in your feet. A long soak in the tub sounds perfect.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
It’s been a month since you moved in. Your days have once again settled into a predictable rhythm. Work, errands, sleep, repeat. Nothing much changes, and that's exactly how you like it.
Early the next morning, your alarm buzzes insistently on your bedside table. You reach out and swipe it silent. You sit up and stretch before you toss on something comfortable. You settle on leggings and a loose top. Today’s plan was to beat the crowd to the farmers market by getting there right when it opens.
As you lock the door behind you, a sudden sound of footsteps makes your shoulders tense. You hate small talk with a passion. The idea of awkwardly exchanging greetings with neighbors feels like an unnecessary burden. The thought of having to stand there, forcing a polite smile and exchanging meaningless greetings, makes you start to retreat. Just as you finish unlocking the door a cheerful voice calls out, stopping you in your tracks before you can slip back inside.
“Oh! Hi! I don’t think I’ve had the chance to properly introduce myself.”
You freeze mid step and turn toward the voice
Standing there is a tall figure, someone around your age. His smile is charming, the kind that looks like it comes easy. His eyes crinkle into crescent moons as he regards you with friendly curiosity and extends a hand.
“I’m Jeno,” he says confidently. "I just moved in down the hall."
You blink, caught off guard by his charm. For a moment, words evade you as you meet his gaze. Your grip is light and tentative as you shake his hand. You mutter out your own greeting and you think you’re speaking loud enough, but Jeno has to lean in slightly to hear you better.
“Sorry, one more time,” he says.
You chuckle nervously, clearing your throat. “Sorry, I don’t talk to people very often,” you admit, raising your voice just a bit. “I’m Y/N”
“It’s nice to meet you. I think I’ve seen you a few times. You’re kind of hard to come by,” Jeno jokes.
“I don’t leave the house much,” you reply with a small smile, crossing your arms and shrugging. “But unfortunately, I need to go to the grocery store today.”
“Really? Same here,” Jeno says, his eyes lighting up. “I just came back upstairs to grab my wallet. Do you want to go together? I usually hit the little farmers market around the corner. What about you?”
“Me too,” you say, forcing a smile. Inside, you’re practically melting down. You’ve never talked this long to any neighbor, especially not someone as charming as him. You want to run in the opposite direction, but your not sure how to politely decline.
You walk down the stairs together, and Jeno keeps talking, but you can’t even meet his eyes. This was probably your worse nightmare come true, trapped in conversation with a really attractive guy.
“Thanks,” you murmur softly as he holds the door open for you.
Jeno nods with a warm smile and follows behind you as you step outside. The morning sun casts a gentle glow on his features.
“So,” he begins casually. “How long have you been living here?”
You fiddle with your keys as you walk. “It’s been about a month now,” you reply. “Not too long. I guess I’m still getting familiar with the neighborhood.”
He nods thoughtfully, glancing around. “Yeah, it’s a pretty quiet spot. Not much happens around here, but I like that. It’s a nice change of pace from where I come from.”
Curious, you glance over. “Oh, really? Where'd you move from?”
He smiles. “A bigger city. It was always so loud and crowded. When I was younger, I loved it. I was always getting into trouble. But now… I need something calmer. This neighborhood seemed like the perfect place to start fresh.”
“You’ll have to tell me some of those stories.” You say.
You were curious about Jeno, he had such a sweet face that you didn't take him as a trouble maker. The conversation flows more smoothly now that you’ve warmed up to each other. You learn that it was mainly Jeno’s friends who dragged him into trouble. They sound like a fun group they way that Jeno describes them. You can't help but laugh through most of his stories.
As you approach the corner of the next street, the distant chatter from the farmers' market grows louder. When you finally arrive at the market, you both share a small smile.
“Thanks for walking with me,” you say softly. “It was nice talking to you.”
Jeno grins. “Same here. Hopefully we’ll bump into each other again.”
You turn to head toward your own shopping. The world feels a little less ordinary today.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
Later, you’re almost finished with your shopping, checking off the last item on your list. You put the carton of eggs in your basket when a familiar face catches your attention. Turning slightly, you see Jeno standing in the dairy aisle, examining a block of cheese. He catches your gaze with a gentle smile. ”Hey Stranger.”
You find yourself smiling back. Without thinking, your lips curl up into a genuine smile.
“Hi,” you reply and start fiddling with the handle of your shopping basket.
He closes the distance between you. “Are you done shopping?” he asks casually.
“Yup,” you say, glancing down at your list. “What about you?”
He nods. "Me too. How about we walk back together? I can carry all your bags, make it easier for you."
You let out a sigh, feeling a sense apprehension. The first walk wasn’t terrible, he was surprisingly pleasant company. But the thought of being alone with him again makes your stomach twist nervously. Still, you remind yourself that carrying all these groceries home alone isn’t exactly ideal either.
“Okay, let’s check out,” you decide.
As you approach the checkout line, you steal a glance at Jeno's basket. It's surprisingly empty, considering the length of your shopping trip. You're on the verge of asking where all his groceries are when you catch yourself, unsure if it would come off as rude or nosy. You bite your tongue and keep your thoughts to yourself.
Jeno steps forward, placing his meager items on the conveyor belt. He pays swiftly, then turns to you, his hands outstretched to help with your groceries.
When your turn comes to pay, Jeno beats you to it, his card already halfway through the reader. You reach for your wallet, but it's too late. He's already signed the receipt, a nonchalant smile on his face.
Your eyes widen in disbelief as you realize what he's done. Your jaw drops as you realize how much he had spent. You had put a month's worth of groceries in your basket. Your hands shake slightly as you protest, "How could you pay for my things? That's too much!"
He waves off your concern, "It's no big deal. I don't mind at all."
"No, I need to pay you back," you insist. You hate the idea of owing anyone, and the thought of getting things for free makes you feel even worse.
Jeno notices the seriousness in your expression and immediately softens. "Hey, you can just send me the money later," he says.
Relief washes over your shoulders, and you take a deep breath, feeling your tension ease slightly. Your shoulders relax as you nod, grateful but still feeling a bit awkward about the situation.
You make your way back to the apartment together. Once you make it home you ask Jeno for his cash app, venmo, paypal, or anything so that you could pay him back. He pauses for a beat, then pretends not to hear you. He helps you set your groceries down before he turns and walks off down the hall, leaving you standing there stunned. He had tricked you.
Jeno was an anomaly, something that shook up your daily routine. Jeno was unpredictable which made him dangerous in your eyes. Jeno was something you were not prepared for.
You don’t see Jeno for a while, choosing to stay inside most days, avoiding the outside world as much as possible. When it’s finally time to go to the market again, you pray to all the gods above that you won’t run into him. Just as you're about to head downstairs, a familiar voice calls out, “Can I join you?”
Curse your luck.
He doesn’t even ask where you’re going, as if he already knows that you don’t leave for much other than shopping. You shake your head and keep walking, your steps steady and deliberate. Today, you really don’t want to be bothered. You’re wary of him buying your groceries again and putting you further in debt to him.
About halfway down the staircase, he calls out, confusion clear in his voice. "What’s wrong?"
You glance back at him, offering a small, polite smile. "Nothing, it's just easier to shop for myself if I go alone," you reply softly.
Jeno steps onto the middle landing, catching up to you. The sunlight from the wide window behind the staircase pours in. The window itself is tall and arched, with delicate stained glass details that catch the light and scatter tiny rainbows onto the stairs. He reaches out, his hand hovering near your waist, not touching, just trying to block your path. It's like a scene from one of the romance novels you read.
"Listen, if it's about the last time, I'm sorry. I won't buy your groceries again if it means—" Jeno stops himself, rambling, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I should have asked. I didn’t think you would mind.”
It did make you uncomfortable. You're not used to this kind of attention, this level of closeness, you barely knew him. You know it was probably something stupid to complain about but the act of someone doing something nice for you just to hold it over your head wasn't a foreign occurrence. You instinctively step back just a little and speak again, your voice remains gentle but firm.
"It's okay," you say quietly, avoiding his gaze. "I just prefer to do things my own way. I appreciate your concern, but I’m used to taking care of myself."
Your words are kind but clear, signaling that you’re not ready to accept his help or his proximity just yet.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
It doesn’t take a month this time for you to see Jeno. This time, it’s only two weeks.
You were busy playing a puzzle game on your DS when you heard the knock at your door. You groan in annoyance, your focus broken after ten minutes of trying to solve this frustrating puzzle. With a sigh, you shuffle over and crack the door open slightly, peering coldly through the crack.
Jeno stands there, a tentative smile on his face. “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie or something?”
There he was again, asking to be in your company, as if it was nothing. He really didn't know when to give up. You’ve never known anyone to take this much interest in you. You haven’t had much experience talking to guys, you didn't really like their attention.
“They just added the new Studio Ghibli movie on Netflix,” he says, biting his lip nervously. “You mentioned it briefly the last time we walked. I thought maybe we could watch it together.”
“I love those movies,” you say, your previous annoyance fading as you think about the new Ghibli film. Your face brightens, and a genuine smile spreads across your lips.
“I just need to finish this puzzle,” you add, glancing back at the DS screen.
“Puzzle? Can I help?” Jeno asks curiously.
You nod determinedly. Two brains are better than one, and as much as you’d like to just Google the answer, you’d rather phone a friend. Without hesitation, you step aside and gesture for him to come in. He slips off his shoes by the door and sets them next to yours.
His eyes scan your quarters as you lead him into the living room. Your apartment feels warm and inviting. Plants hang from the ceiling near the kitchen window, swaying gently. You had a desk set up in the dining room space that Jeno assumed you had made into an office area. The mood lighting in the corners of the living room casts a soft, warm glow over everything. The TV is mounted on the wall opposite a small, cluttered couch with a throw blanket and pillows that leave barely enough room to sit.
You make space for him on the couch and hand him your Nintendo DS. “Here,” you say quietly.
He takes the device, eyes flickering between the screen and you. You lean in slightly, hopeful. “So, we have to cross through all nine dots with just four lines,” you explain.
Jeno studies the screen. He fiddles with the controls, trying to find a solution, but he doesn’t have any better luck than you. About twenty minutes pass, and both of you sit there more confused than when you started.
Finally, you sigh and admit defeat. “Let’s just Google it. I give up.”
Jeno shakes his head, determination flickering in his eyes. “No, we can do this. Believe in us. We’re so close.”
“My brain is going to melt. Can we at least try another one? I’ve been stuck on that puzzle forever,” you say, frustration creeping into your voice. The movie has been long forgotten in the back of your mind as you and Jeno sit close on the couch. You’re practically perched on his shoulder, watching him maneuver your character through the game.
Jeno continues on trying to solve the puzzle, determined to not let a game out smart him. You don’t realize how close you’ve become until Jeno finally solves the puzzle and turns to look at you with a triumphant smile on his face. You’re about a breath away but Jeno doesn’t lean away yet. The air around you feels almost magnetic, as if something wants to pull you closer. You can feel the heat crawling up your face, and your heart pounds a little faster. In your embarrassment, you're the first to look away as you shift awkwardly on the couch.
Jeno tries his best to break the tension. “Do you work from home?” Jeno asks, changing the subject. His attention was towards your office space and wondered if that was the reason you never left home.
“I do,” you reply softly, grabbing a nearby pillow to hold in your lap for comfort. “ But lately I think maybe it’s not so good for me.”
Why do you say that?” he asks, turning his body to face you, his tone gentle.
You hesitate for a moment before speaking. “Well…before, at least I was forced to interact with people. But now since I don’t leave…there’s no one. I feel like I’m growing more antisocial by the day.”
Jeno nods in understanding. “You’re not as bad at socializing as you think,” he shrugs casually.
You shake your head and sigh. “You’re just saying that.”
Jeno sets down the DS on your coffee table and scoots closer to you, his expression earnest. “Hey, I mean it. I like you,” he says seriously. His eyes suddenly widen as he realizes what he just said, but he doesn’t take it back.
You blink twice before nodding slowly. “Thank you.”
Jeno offers a nervous smile. For the first time his eyes avoid yours as he awkwardly looks around your living room, trying to find something else to talk about.
“Do you still want to watch that movie?” He asks.
You nod with a shy smile, feeling a little nervous. You’d never watched a movie alone with a guy before, and right now, the setting feels unexpectedly intimate. You were so caught up in trying to solve your puzzles that you hadn’t realized how casual this all was.
“Let me know if it gets too cold,” you say, turning on the TV and settling into the couch.
Jeno nods, and you both focus on the screen. About halfway through, he shifts slightly to get comfortable, and somehow, he ends up even closer. His thigh pressed up against yours. The warmth from his body burns and your heart skips a beat.
You almost don’t hear him when he softly asks for a pillow. You follow his finger to the pillow resting in your lap, and your brow raises in question.
“You want to cuddle with one?” you ask.
He nods, pointing at the pillow in your lap. “I want that one,” he says with a daring smile.
Your eyebrows furrow and Jeno can't help but laugh at your expression. “Come on,” he says between a chuckle. “You have like ten pillows over there.”
“Choose another,” you say stubbornly.
He chuckles, amused by your stubbornness. “So stingy,” he teases. Then, without warning, he adds, “Fine, I'll just use you.”
You’re not sure what he means at first until he lays his head on your lap, looking up at you with a smile.
There’s something quietly domestic about the scene. The way his shoes sit beside yours by the door, him fighting over your favorite pillow and now his head resting in your lap. It feels intimate and unexpectedly comforting.
Your heart flutters, but you quickly stomp down the feeling. Nothing good ever comes from feeling things like this. You turn your attention back to the TV and press play on the movie.
You find yourself enjoying his company more than you expected. His warmth that seeps into your skin loosening up the tension in your body. You’re grateful he hadn’t made a move, that he was just content with cuddling and laughing along with you during the funny parts of the movie. It feels safe, but most importantly, it feels right.
When the credits roll, there's a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Your time with Jeno has come to an end.
You glance down, he had taken the pillow from your lap sometime during the movie and had been fidgeting with it. He was mindlessly humming along to the song that played during the credits.
You hesitate, your heart pounding a little. “Are you leaving now?” You finally ask.
“Yeah, it’s getting late,” Jeno answers, sitting up and stretching. He stands up from the couch, a gentle smile lingering on his face. “It was nice hanging out with you today.”
You sit up a little too quickly at that. “Can we hang out again?” you blurt out, immediately cringing at how eager you sound.
Jeno’s expression softens. “Of course we can,” he says.
His hand reaches out toward your face, and for a moment, you think he’s about to pull you into a kiss. Instead, he picks something out of your hair. “Sorry, there was a lint,” he says casually.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and a small, relieved laugh escapes. “Thank you,” you say softly, your voice trembling slightly as you manage a shy smile.
You walk him to the door and bid him farewell.
You stand there for a moment after he leaves. Your heart was pounding with that familiar, annoying flutter in your chest. A flicker of fear rises in you. You couldn’t fall in love with Jeno. Love hurt, and you already carried enough scars to last a lifetime.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
You’re in your apartment’s lobby, checking your mail when you hear the door open and close noisily. You look up, and your heart is immediately stolen. Sitting comfortably in Jeno’s arms is a fluffy white puppy.
"Aw, how cute," you coo, hurrying closer. In your excitement, you completely forget about checking your mail, leaving your keys in the mailbox and the little door ajar.
Jeno smiles at you, “I prefer handsome, but cute works too,” he says jokingly .
You laugh at the quip before focusing back on the adorable puppy in his arms. “What’s his name?”
“Hayan,” he tells you with a soft smile. “He’s my friend’s dog. I’m just watching him while he’s out of town.” He shrugs. “I'm more of a cat person.”
“Hi, Hayan!” you coo. “What does his name mean? Hayan?” you ask, tilting your head curiously at Jeno.
“Just means ‘white,’” he says with a shrug.
“Very creative,” you tease, grinning.
“I didn’t name him,” he says defensively.
You smile warmly and shake your head. “Well, I don’t want to hold you up. Sorry to keep you,” you say. Your eyes linger on the puppy.
Jeno knows you well enough to sense you’re just giving him an out. “It’s always a pleasure to talk to you, you know that, right?” He chuckles. “Do you want to come over and hang out with him?”
Your face lights up, and you nod enthusiastically, already starting to make your way toward the stairs. Jeno calls out after you, “Your mail!”
You glance down at the mail in your hand and shrug. “What about it?”
He points with a small laugh, “Your keys are still in your mailbox.”
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, and you quickly walk over to retrieve your keys, locking the mailbox. “Sorry, I got distracted,” you mumble.
Jeno shakes his head, “Come on.” The puppy in his arms yawning cutely as it falls back asleep on his chest.
The juxtaposition of the sight was stirring something deep inside you. Jeno’s strong arms and broad chest surrounding the small puppy. The way he held Hayan so carefully, so protectively, made your stomach flutter. You found yourself yearning for Jeno to be wrapped around you like that.
You walk up the stairs side by side, your gaze flickering back to the adorable puppy whose peaceful face and tiny yawn make your heart soften. Once you reach the door, Jeno digs into his pocket for his keys, and you wait in anticipation. You had always wondered what Jeno’s place looked like.
“Wanna hold him while I get the door open?” Jeno asks.
You nod happily. You carefully take Hayan from Jeno’s arms, pressing a soft kiss onto the puppy’s fluffy head and petting him gently. Jeno opens the door, and you walk into his living room, placing your mail on the coffee table. Your eyes drift around his apartment, analyzing everything to get a better look into Jeno’s life. Jeno’s home smells of amber and something woody. The layout is identical to yours but the vibe was completely different. There’s a soft, plush rug covering the wooden floor and a comfortable looking couch sits on top of it. A bookshelf lines one wall, filled with a mix of manga, novels, and little trinkets. You look at all of the small souvenirs and photos that hint at his interests and personal life.
You settle onto the couch. Hayan is still sleepy, and begins to doze off on your lap. His tiny paws and nose twitch adorably as he dreams. You don’t want to disturb his nap, so you sit perfectly still. Jeno just smiles softly before walking into the kitchen.
“Are you thirsty?” Jeno asks casually as he gets a water bottle from the fridge.
You shake your head. Jeno shrugs, “I’m going to hit the shower. You can stay as long as you want,” he says before heading down the hall.
As he leaves, your eyes drift back around the apartment. You couldn't do much else, your phone was in your back pocket and you didn’t want to risk stirring Hayan. You occupy yourself with committing Jeno’s apartment to memory. Your gaze lands on a photo on his side table. It’s of him with a woman, both of them around the same age. Your heart sinks slightly, and you pick up the photo to get a closer look. You hope it’s his sister as you examine the image. Your eyes are drawn to Jeno first. You study him closely. His full lips, pretty eyes, and that charming mole under his eye have you under spells.
Then your gaze shifts to the woman. She’s pretty. A twinge of jealousy flares in your chest, and you quickly look away, feeling suddenly self-conscious. You tell yourself you have no right to feel this way, but the emotion lingers stubbornly. Your mind creates all sorts of scenarios in your head as it tries to make sense of it all. Your eyes trail back to Jeno’s photo, and just as you wonder how long you’ve been staring, you hear the bathroom door open. Heart pounding, you hurriedly put the photo back where you found it. In your haste, you wake Hayan. He looks up at you with sleepy eyes and lets out a soft yawn.
Jeno walks into the room, laughing softly. “He’s still sleepy? This babysitting gig will be a breeze,” he jokes. He walks closer, crouching down to gently pet the sleeping puppy. “He must have been so tired,” Jeno murmurs, softly stroking Hayan in your lap.
He’s on his knees in front of you, and when he looks up, your eyes lock. His arms rest beside your thighs on the couch, boxing you in. The way his eyes shine as he gazes at you makes your breath catch. His hair is still damp from the shower, slightly dripping, and he smells like honey.
Your eyes drift to his lips. Full and tempting, just like in the photo. You take in each of his features, committing everything to memory. Without thinking, your hand reaches out, and your thumb brushes softly against the mole under his eye. Your mind is in a haze and you don’t realize how close you’ve gotten. Suddenly you can feel his breath against your lips. Had he moved closer without you noticing? He licked his lips, and the way they shimmered with moisture made your breath hitch unexpectedly. The closer he got the slower time felt, almost like you were trapped in molasses. You felt a shy brush of his lips against yours.
Hayan sneezes loudly, breaking the moment. He jumps down from your lap and trots off to find somewhere else to nap. Startled, you pull away from Jeno completely. You quickly readjust your position on the couch and avert your, focusing on anything but Jeno. Suddenly, you felt his hand take yours. He wasn’t going to let you run away this time. He carefully brought your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one softly while maintaining eye contact. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive.
You were short-circuiting. Was this real life? Your heart felt like it could leap out of your chest. Jeno noticed the stunned look on your face and held his gaze, a quiet smirk playing on his lips. He was glad you couldn’t look away. He rarely got the chance to see you this close and he was savoring every second of it. You were effortlessly beautiful and he couldn’t get you out of his head.
He gave you a mischievous smile, one you hadn’t seen from him very often. Deciding to take mercy on you, he slowly stood to his full height and backed off. With a playful glint in his eyes he dropped the wet towel on your head. The dampness made you cringe, and you swiped it off, tossing it back at him.
“You’re so gross,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.
“Don’t be dramatic,” he rolled his eyes playfully. “I only used it on my hair.” He settled down next to you on the couch.
You gather your composure, trying your best to act normal. “How long is Hayan going to be here?” you ask nervously, fidgeting with your nails to distract yourself from everything that had just happened.
“Until Friday,” Jeno replies. “You can come over as much as you want. I wouldn’t mind the extra company. Plus it looks like he already likes you.”
A bright smile spreads across your face. “I’d love to help!”
He nods. “I get home around 6 on weekdays. You can come then, if that works.”
“What if I take care of him while you’re at work?”
Jeno pauses, considering it. “That sounds like a good idea, but I hate to get you wrapped up in my responsibilities.”
You shrug. “Well, I work from home and don’t do much all day, so I don’t mind,” you add, eager to sell the idea now that it’s been proposed.
Jeno nods thoughtfully. “I don’t see why not.” After a few beats of silence, a look of curiosity passes over his face. “You seem to really like animals. Why don’t you have any pets?”
“Well, for starters, I live in a pretty small apartment, and I don’t go outside enough to officially get a dog.” Your eyes widen. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure I take Hayan out!” You reassure him even though he probably didn’t doubt you for a second.
“What about a cat?”
“Hm, I’d still feel bad keeping him cooped up inside all day,” you reply with a shrug.
Jeno grins. “Well, that’s okay. You’ve got me! I’ll be your pet,” he jokes.
Your face flushes, and Jeno smiles back. For a moment, you think he’s doing this on purpose. There’s no way he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.
Feeling a little bolder, you reach out and grab the collar of his shirt in revenge. “Gonna let me walk you too?” you tease, and for once, Jeno is the one caught off guard. His cheeks turn bright red, probably the reddest you’ve ever seen. Satisfaction bubbles up inside you, this was a small victory after the little stunt he pulled earlier.
You laugh softly, and a genuine smile begins to spread across Jeno’s face. A peaceful silence settles between you two for a moment before Jeno speaks again. His eyes search yours. “Do you ever get lonely?”
You pause, thinking deeply before answering. "I'm used to it," you admit, your voice low. "As you could guess, I don't have many real friends. The only other friends I have are online, so...I guess that counts, right?" You let out a small, hollow laugh. "I wish I was more outgoing, but I'm scared. I'm scared of meeting new people, and I'm terrible at socializing. It used to be lonely, but I've gotten used to it."
Jeno reaches out, his expression gentle. You feel a flutter in your chest as his hand brushes against yours. "You shouldn't be," he says softly.
You look down, a soft blush rising to your cheeks as you fidget with your hands. "It's not all bad, I guess," you say glancing up at Jeno. "And yeah, it means a lot that you're here and that you care. It's...it's a big deal for me."
“I’ll always be here.”
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
Jeno knocks on your door early the next morning, before work, and drops off Hayan along with everything you'll need to take care of him. Usually, you’re used to seeing Jeno in his casual clothes with his fluffy hair slightly tousled. But today, he’s dressed sharply in a sleek black dress shirt tucked into tailored slacks and he has a heavy watch shining on his wrist. His hair is slicked back smoothly, with a few strands curled in softly on his forehead, giving him a charismatic look.
He’s off to work, but there’s a lingering look in his eyes. You find yourself wishing you could keep him to yourself today, just a little longer. You feel like a doting wife sending her husband off to work, all that’s missing is him leaning in to kiss your cheek before he leaves.
“Have a good day at work,” you call out, watching him turn and head down the hall.
You take Hayan inside and you’re excited to not be alone all day for once. You spend hours taking calls for your job, playing with Hayan in between calls. During lunch, you pause to take Hayan for a walk and to get some fresh air. You capture a few funny videos on your phone, your favorite was of Hayan sitting by a flower bed and a butterfly landing on his nose. He freezes, eyes wide in wonder, before suddenly jumping up, making the butterfly flutter away. You couldn't wait to show Jeno later.
You were in such a great mood that later you decided to take Hayan to the local park. You had to work up the courage but once you saw Hayan having the time of his life it was worth it.
As the evening settles in, Jeno arrives to pick up Hayan. He settles onto your couch, sleeves rolled up, shoes kicked off and hair a tousled mess. It was a stark contrast to his sharp, polished appearance from earlier that morning. He sits close, and you can smell the remainder of his cologne on him. You would drown in his scent if you could.
You showed him the funny videos you had taken of Hayan. “He's so cute!” you laugh softly, your heart melting at the sight. “He’s a lot like you, you know.” You add.
Jeno gives you a smug look. "You think I'm cute?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
You’d gotten a little used to his teasing, so you nudge him and roll your eyes. "Not in that way, dork."
Jeno looks playfully disappointed, then tilts his head in confusion. At that moment, you swear you've seen Hayan do the same thing. “Then, how so?” Jeno asks.
“Well, for starters, you kinda act alike,” you explain, reaching over to run your fingers through Jeno’s messy hair absentmindedly. Jeno leans into your touch without hesitation, closing his eyes briefly. “And you sort of look like him. I just can’t quite put my finger on it,” you finish.
Jeno tries to stifle a yawn. Your touch is so soothing, it feels like home. “You think so?” he asks groggily, resting his head on your shoulder.
“Yeah,” you whisper and rest your head against his.
The scene is picture perfect. Hayan is asleep comfortably on your lap and Jeno is resting against your shoulder. In that moment, you realize just how lonely you’ve been. You don’t think you could go back to that cold emptiness.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
Before, your days would blur together in a never-ending cycle of waking up, going to work, eating, and sleeping. You never realized how lonely it was until you met Jeno. Now, your days are filled with laughter, smiles, games, and a light you’ve never seen in the world before. The sky seems bluer and more vast, the air feels crisper as you breathe it in, and the sun shines brighter. Honestly, it scares you because it could all vanish in the blink of an eye. What if Jeno moves away? Or he gets a girlfriend and can’t spend time with you anymore? What if he only felt sorry for you all along, and you were just too foolish to see it?
You try not to think about it too much, your eyes drifting over the pile of puzzle pieces spread across Jeno’s floor. You had come over after work, and he surprised you with a new puzzle. He usually gives up on them pretty quickly but you loved putting them together. You had been working in silence, your brain deciding to think of fucked up scenarios to torment you. You nervously chew on your bottom lip to try to calm your nerves.
You hadn’t even noticed how tense you were until Jeno came over and kneeled beside you. You pull yourself out of your daze and look up at him. His thumb moved softly, tracing along your lips before he gently pulled your bottom lip free from between your teeth.
He massaged the flesh with his thumb for a moment, then slowly let go. “What’s wrong?”
You sat up and crossed your legs, you could see the worry etched into his expression. You licked your bottom lip and winced, your teeth had bitten into it too deep and split the skin.
“Sorry, it’s just a bad habit I have when I’m focusing,” you whisper.
“Liar,” Jeno says easily, sitting back on his hands. “You think I don’t know you.” There was no questioning in his voice, only certainty. “Something’s bothering you.”
Jeno’s eyes saw everything. They could spot every change in your expression and notice any shift in your behavior. Right now, you weren’t sure if that annoyed you or not.
“I just really like spending time with you,” you say softly, your eyes drifting back to the pile of puzzle pieces as you continue fitting them together. “And sometimes, I get a little sad.”
“Why does that make you sad?” Jeno asks in confusion.
You can’t bring yourself to meet his eye. “Because all good things eventually come to an end,” you whisper.
His voice is quiet when he speaks again. “Hey. Look at me.”
You stubbornly keep your focus on the puzzle. You’re afraid to meet his gaze because you know that if you do, your walls will come crashing down, and the tears you've been holding back will spill over.
“Y/N,” he repeats your name softly, as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world, like it’s made of glass. “Please.”
Taking a deep breath, you finally glance up at him. When your eyes meet, you see understanding and compassion.
“You mean the world to me,” he says softly. “I enjoy spending every single day with you. I can’t imagine my life without you.” The way he’s looking at you takes your breath away. For a moment, you believe maybe he could love you.
Your heart soars. It’s as if you could fly. Everything he just said matches how you feel about him, how you’ve felt all along.
“You always know exactly what to say,” you say with a small smile.
“Of course,” Jeno says triumphantly, a proud smile spreading across his face. He’s happy he managed to bring your smile back to its rightful place. “You’re my best friend.”
It shouldn’t hurt when he says that, but it does. Obviously Jeno was your friend, that had been long established but for a second you believed he thought of you as more than that. The smile on your face wavers just a little. But before Jeno can address it, Hayan suddenly bounds over and jumps onto your puzzle, sending pieces flying everywhere. Both you and Jeno startle, laughing at the chaos. You’re grateful for the distraction, and you’re glad the laugh that escapes is genuine because honestly, you didn’t want to think about the millions of pieces your heart just shattered into.
Once everything settles, and Jeno helps you clean up the puzzle, the room remains quiet. Hayan curls up contently in his dog bed, feeling satisfied after causing a little destruction.
Jeno is the first to break the silence. “Are you hungry? I can make dinner,” he asks hopefully.
You love Jeno’s cooking, and you always enjoyed playing sous chef while he bustled around the kitchen. But tonight, you needed to be away from him, even if just for a little while.
“No, I’m kind of tired already,” you lie. “I think I’m going to head back over to my place.”
Jeno’s face falls slightly, and he looks like a kicked puppy. The sight of it twists the knife in your chest even more, but you know if you stayed, things would only become more awkward.
Jeno nods and walks you to the door. Just before you reach the threshold, he hesitates for a moment. “I forgot to ask but do you want to go to dinner on Friday? I’m inviting some friends, and I think it would be fun if you came.”
You hesitate to answer so Jeno offers you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. It’ll only be a few people, and you don’t have to stay the whole time if you don’t want to.
Let me sleep on it?” you ask.
He nods. “Let me know. I’d really love to see you there.”
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
The music was loud, and the place reeked of stale booze. The bar you were sitting at was sticky, and you were feeling beyond overstimulated. Where was Jeno during all this? You wish you could say you didn't know but your eyes kept drifting to him and you couldn’t look away. For the last thirty minutes you had watched him, he was dancing with the same girl who had his attention since dinner.
The night hadn’t started bad, Jeno had been right, the dinner was fun. You met a lot of his friends, and they were warm, welcoming and a little rambunctious, just as Jeno had described them in his stories. Jaemin, Renjun, Yuna, and Haechan sat around the dinner table, taking turns sharing embarrassing stories about Jeno. You thought it was cute how they teased Jeno. You had never seen him get so flustered. It was enjoyable, until Haechan suggested going bar hopping. Everyone seemed excited by the idea, and you didn’t want to be a downer. When Jeno shot you a hesitant look before answering, you gave him a confident nod. You’d learned over the past few months that sometimes, it was good to step out of your comfort zone. So you put on a brave face and gave it a try.
You all were about to split up in the parking lot, agreeing to meet at the closest bar, until a girl approached your group. After a quick introduction, you realize you have seen her before. She was the girl from the photo, the one Jeno had framed in his living room. Apparently she was one of his childhood friends. She quickly explains that she had been running late and missed dinner. She introduced herself as Sasha. You complimented her outfit and got to know her fairly quickly.
She rode with you and Jeno to the bar, she had taken the passenger seat and left you sitting alone in the back. Jeno and Sasha laughed and rambled on without you. You wanted to join in and not feel so awkward, but they were talking about old memories, ones that you were obviously not a part of. You shrugged it off, telling yourself they were probably eager to catch up.
You finally arrive at the bar and walk beside Jeno. You’re about to reach out and take his hand to avoid getting separated inside when suddenly, someone rammed into you. You stumble to the side and you look up to see Sasha’s apologetic smile as she slips past you. She intertwines her fingers with Jeno’s, pulling him behind her with a confident air around her. Jeno’s eyes widen in surprise before he glances back at you in concern. His brow furrows as he quickly checks if you’re okay. You manage a small smile, offering a shrug and a fake nonchalance, pretending it didn’t bother you even as your chest tightens slightly.
Jeno’s other friends are kind enough to look out for you and offer to stick together inside the bar. Feeling a bit more grounded, you instinctively latch onto a girl named Yuna’s side for support and watch pathetically as Sasha drags Jeno into the crowded bar.
And that’s how you found yourself exactly where you were now.
“You're not going to ask him to dance?” Yuna says after ordering another shot at the bar.
“He seems pretty busy,” you reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes.
Yuna shakes her head with a knowing smile. “You know he’d drop everything to be next to you, right?” she says and you whip around to face her.
“If you’re just trying to make me feel better you don’t have to lie,” you huff, annoyed.
The bartender slides Yuna her shot, and she downs it in one gulp, making a face at the bitter taste before turning her attention back to you.
“Whatever. Sit and mope all you want,” she shrugs, then pushes off the bar and heads toward the dance floor.
You stare daggers at her back, then turn back to the drink you’d been nursing all night. Renjun catches your eye from further down the bar and gives you an apologetic smile as he approaches.
“People tend to make that face after Yuna talks to them,” he says softly. “I’m usually the one who has to come and fix it. Please tell me she didn’t say anything rude?”
You shrug it off with a small smile. “No, nothing like that. She’s right. I can’t really fault her for it.” You meant it. Yuna was real and confident, she didn’t care if people couldn’t handle it. You admired that about her. You had talked to her a lot during the dinner and she was everything you weren’t. You wanted to be fierce like her someday.
“From the look on your face, she probably told you to stop with the ‘kicked puppy’ act and go get what you want.” Renjun chuckles and takes a sip of his drink.
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Did everyone know you had feelings for Jeno?
“Is it really that obvious?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But luckily, Jeno’s an idiot and probably hasn’t caught on,” Renjun says with a teasing smile.
Your eyes drift back to the way Jeno dances with Sasha. “They look perfect together.”
“If it’s Sasha you’re worried about, those two broke up a long time ago,” Renjun offers, trying to lift your spirits.
You shoot him a surprised look. “Wait, they dated?” If you didn’t feel like shit before, you definitely felt worse now.
It was obvious he still had feelings for her. The way he danced with her, the way he looked at her. He even still had a picture of them together in his living room. Watching them, you finally chugged the alcohol that had been resting between your palms all night.
Renjun shrugs. “Yeah, but it was a long time ago. They’re just friends now.”
“Well, she seems like she wants to be more than friends again,” you say, signaling to the bartender for another drink. When it arrives, you don’t hesitate, you down it quickly.
“You don’t have to be scared. What’s the worst that could happen if you confess? You know the saying that goes “It's better to have loved and lost than never to love at all’?” Renjun prompts, making you laugh bitterly.
“I can’t risk losing Jeno. I can’t ruin what we have. Besides, I’ll never be brave enough to confess,” you say.
Renjun shakes his head. “Well… then, think of it this way. Would you rather lose Jeno knowing you tried, or lose him to someone else without ever saying a word?” His eyes meet yours. “The choice is yours.”
You swirl the straw in your drink, letting his words sink in as you contemplate them.
“Those who love don’t let themselves be ruled by fear,” Renjun continues softly. “They know it’s scary, and they know it will hurt. But they find the courage to love anyway. You’re scared of getting hurt and that’s okay. Because courage is what comes after fear.”
“Then I guess I’m just a coward,” you say, your voice tinged with bitterness. “Fear’s what’s kept me safe all this time. I’m okay with being scared. I’m used to being alone, and I don’t really need love. I’ve gotten this far without it.”
“But are you really living?” Renjun asks.
You bristle at his words, and suddenly, your mind spirals. He was right, he saw right through you. You'd just been getting by, day by day, nothing more than surviving.
Food, water, and shelter. That’s all you needed to survive.
But love, that’s what you needed to truly live.
You take a long swig of your drink, hoping the burn of alcohol will distract you from the tears that burn behind your eyelids.
You’ve never gotten this drunk before, and the way the liquor mixes with the chaos of your emotions feels dangerous. You stand from the bar, and Renjun’s hands shoot out to steady you, but you shrug him off.
“I’m fine,” you insist.
“Maybe I should get Jeno to take you home,” he suggests cautiously.
At his words, your eyes drift back toward the dance floor. A part of you wants to believe Renjun and Yuna. Maybe Jeno could have feelings for you, but the more logical side doubts it.
In the end he’s dancing with her, not you.
You tell Renjun you’re headed to the bathroom, but the truth is, you’re leaving. You don’t know where you’re going, but you can’t be in this dingy bar a second longer.
Without saying goodbye, you slip out and start walking down the street. It’s probably a forty-minute walk to your place, but the cold, fresh air offers you a strange solace, and the stars above provide silent companionship.
About fifteen minutes into your walk, your phone buzzed loudly in your pocket. You ignored it, sinking deeper into your thoughts and letting everything you’d been feeling toward Jeno over the past few months come bubbling to the surface. Love, then fear, then sadness. It was like a never ending cycle and it was exhausting.
You remembered what Renjun said at the bar and realized he was right. It was pathetic to keep living in fear like this. If you didn’t muster the courage to truly live, you’d just die alone.
You spot a park up ahead off to the side of the road. You had worn heels for the first time in a long time tonight and your feet were killing you. You steady yourself and carefully make your way across the wood chips, trying not to kick up any and get them caught in your heels.
Finally, you reached the swings and sat down heavily. You were still heavily intoxicated and at first the quiet, rundown park offered a strange comfort. That was until you stared at the playground through your drunken haze, your mind began to distort things. Shadows seemed to hide inside the tunnel slide, ghosts haunted the swingset, and worse, you imagined a killer lurking in the woods behind you.
The longer you sit outside in the middle of the night, the more you regret the idea of walking home. A fresh wave of tears wash over you. You were drunk and alone, and you hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten. The alcohol had kept you warm, but now as the buzz faded, the chill of the night seeped into your bones making you shiver.
You reach into your pocket to grab your phone, but before you can dial Jeno’s number, you're blinded by the headlights of a car. You raise your arm to shield your eyes, squinting through the glare as the car door finally swings open. A figure steps out, and you strain your eyes to discern who it is.
Are you out of your mind?!” a voice yells out.
You recognize it as Jeno’s, but the tone is unfamiliar. His tone is sharp and almost angry. For as long as you’ve known him, he’s never raised his voice at you like that before. You hear the wood chips crunch under his feet as he storms toward you, grabbing your forearm and yanking you up from the swing set. You stumble to your feet, caught off guard.
He does a quick once over of your body from head to toe, searching for any cuts or bruises. When he seems satisfied that you’re unharmed, his shoulders sag in relief. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes briefly, then reopens them but his expression is still tense.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks. You could hear the strain in his voice as he tried to stay calm.
“I was going home,” you respond as if it were obvious. What little alcohol is still in your system makes you unusually fearless. Is this how Yuna feels all the time?
He leans in, inhaling sharply, and smells your breath. “You’re drunk.” he states, disbelief evident.
You shrug off his grip on your forearm and glare at him. “Of course I’m drunk, Jeno! You took me to a bar! What was I supposed to do?”
“If you were ready to go home, you should have come to get me,” he snaps, frustration bubbling up.
“And what? Interrupt all the fun you were having? Don’t act like you’re so concerned about me now!”
“Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? Do you think this is a game? You don’t just wander off like that!”
“Stop acting like you care! All night has just been you and Sasha. You haven’t said a word to me since we entered the bar!”
You’re in each other’s faces at this point, and you never thought it would be possible to be this angry with Jeno.
Jeno runs his hands down his face, sighing heavily. “I’m not having this conversation right now. It’s cold, and I need to get you home,” he says exhausted.
“No! I’m not going with you,” you reply stubbornly, standing your ground.
You don’t know why you’re acting this way. You were just about to call him before he showed up, but now that he’s here, all the feelings you thought you had under control start to surge to the surface. You couldn’t bear to be near him anymore. You start marching away from the park and head back toward the main road. You were determined to put as much distance as possible between you and everything else
You hear the sound of the passenger car door opening and the last voice you wanted to hear tonight speaks.
“Where is she going?” Sasha called out.
“Just get back in the car,” Jeno responds, voice tense, as he begins to stalk after you.
Now, you’re mad and embarrassed. Sasha just saw you having a yelling match with Jeno after acting like a wet rag all night. She’s probably happy you’re jealous. The gravel crunches beneath his footsteps as he walks after you, calling your name. You hear Sasha call out again, equally frustrated.
“Y/N, come on! This isn’t funny. What’s your deal?” Sasha barks from her spot next to the car.
“I said wait in the car!” Jeno yells behind you.
You don’t dare look back. Stubbornly, you keep walking, your high heels clacking unsteadily against the narrow shoulder of the road. Cars pass too close for comfort and their headlights are almost blinding but you don’t care. You’re being reckless but your feet refuse to stop. The embarrassment weighs heavy on your chest, and you’re too humiliated to face Jeno right now.
“No! She’s so annoying. It’s too cold for this,” Sasha mutters from behind in frustration.
You roll your eyes at her words, ignoring the sting they carry.
Jeno calls out to you again, voice pleading. “Y/N, wait!”
“Jeno, leave me al—” Suddenly, your knee buckles beneath you and the heel of your shoe snaps with a sharp crack. You try to catch your balance, but you’re a stumbling mess. You fall sideways, tumbling down the ditch beside the road.
You squeeze your eyes shut tight as you feel yourself rolling down the slope while mud and leaves scrape against your skin. Your body hits the bottom with a dull thud, and everything blurs together. All you could feel was the cold, the dirt, and the sting of pain.
Above you, muffled curses and hurried footsteps grow louder. Jeno and Sasha rush over, their faces etched with concern.
“Shit,” Jeno mutters, voice tight.
“Are you okay?” Sasha asks, her tone a little softer now.
You struggle to get to your feet, but you wince as pain shoots through your ankle.
“I—I don’t think I can get out on my own,” you admit guiltily, bitterness choking your voice. You berate yourself silently. How stupid, how reckless. Now you’re stuck in this ditch, needing help from Sasha and Jeno to get back up.
The ditch is deep, with a steep slope that, under normal circumstances, you could have managed to run up. But with your injury, it’s impossible. You watch Sasha unlatch her heels and kick them off with a faint glare.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps, eyes narrowing. “I may not like you all that much, but I’m not a bitch.”
Without hesitation, Sasha and Jeno make their way down the hill bickering all the while helping you up. You lean heavily on both of them, one arm around Sasha, the other around Jeno. You finally manage to stand and look between their faces. Sasha's jaw was tense, while Jeno's eyes showed concern.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I should have listened.” Your voice trails off in shame.
Jeno’s eyes soften, and he shakes his head slowly. “Save it. It was an accident.”
Sasha remained silent for a moment before she clears her throat. She speaks quietly but firmly.
“I know I’ve been harsh, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you get hurt. You’re not stupid you’re just drunk and tired. I’ve been there and I've seen Jeno do worse so don't beat yourself up.” Her voice isn’t cold anymore, it's just honest.
Jeno looks over at her with a small, proud smile. She offers a small smile, but before it can fully develop, it's replaced by her usual guarded expression.
Once you're back on the pavement, Jeno lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal style. You instinctively rest your head against his chest, feeling safe in his strong hold. Sasha walks ahead, rubbing her arms for warmth. She was eager to reach the car and escape the cold.
“Are you jealous?” Jeno asks, breaking the silence. His voice is sincere and almost curious. “Is that what this is about? You’re jealous of Sasha?”
You glance away, voice small and uncertain. “I’m not jealous,” you mumble, feeling exposed.
Jeno chuckles softly, "You can't hide it from me. I know you, remember? I know you can't look people in the eye when you lie, and you can't hold your liquor to save your life." He pauses, then adds, "And I know you think I have feelings for Sasha, but you're wrong."
“Then why dance with her all night long? Why ignore me?” Your voice grows stronger, laced with hurt.
"We were just catching up. I didn't mean to leave you alone, especially after I invited you. I'm sorry."
“You know how I feel tho… I was out of my element and you left me alone,” your voice waivers.
Jeno’s face softens. “I’m really sorry.”
Suddenly, Sasha’s voice interrupts, echoing down the road, “Can we go now?!” Sasha yells impatiently, before rolling up the window and sinking back into the seat.
Jeno laughs fondly, "Sasha's not so bad once you get to know her. She's like a sister to me.”
You raise an eyebrow, "So you dated your sister?" You were too drunk to worry about the fact that technically, you weren’t supposed to know that.
Jeno rolls his eyes, "It's not like that. We didn't date long because our dynamic wasn't suited for a relationship. She's harmless if you give her a chance. I was actually telling her about you."
Your heart warms at his words. "I feel like such a brat," you say, covering your face in embarrassment.
Jeno teases, "You are, but it's cute. I've never seen this side of you."
You groan, knowing he won't let you live it down. Summoning the rest of your courage, you speak, "Thank you for being there for me. I'm sorry for getting jealous and causing a scene." You finish by placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Jeno stops walking and cups your cheek before you can fully pull away. He seals your apology with a soft kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. When you pull away, you're breathless and he kisses your nose and resumes walking.
When you get in the car, Sasha doesn’t say anything, just mutters a “Finally” under her breath and blasts the heater as Jeno starts the engine. The ride is surprisingly pleasant, Sasha sings along to the songs on the radio and encourages you to join in. You breathe a little easier now that she isn’t sending icy glares through the rearview mirror. You're still not entirely sure how you feel about her, but you're glad whatever beef she had with you has been squashed.
At your apartment door, Jeno hesitates before speaking.
“I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. I don’t usually get that worked up, but I really thought something had happened to you,” he says.
“No, I’m sorry, Jeno. I shouldn’t have left. That was dangerous, and I wasn’t thinking. I feel like I ruined the night,” you reply, your voice tinged with regret.
Jeno closes the distance between you in two long strides and wraps his arms around you. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m just glad you’re okay. Truce?”
You nod and hug him tighter, and he kisses the top of your head.
You pull away, your gaze dropping to your muddy clothes. "Shit, I'm sorry," you mutter, scanning Jeno's shirt for any dirt you might have transferred. His once clean shirt now smudged with dirt and you grimace at the sight.
Jeno chuckles, grasps the hem of his shirt, and with a swift motion he pulls it over his head. You’re too stunned to speak. Your eyes rake over his toned body, his abdominal muscles ripple like waves and a deep V-line draws your eye down to the waistband of his jeans. You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth.
He tilts your chin up and offers a smirk. The expression on his face is a challenge, daring you to make the first move. "Do you want me to help clean you up, or would you rather I go?" His voice is a soft rumble that sends shivers down your spine.
You can't find your voice, so you act. You strip off your muddy clothes until you stand before him in just your underwear. It was the most vulnerable you have ever been with Jeno, but you trust him. His gaze rakes over you, setting your skin ablaze. Both of you seeing a new side of each other, and neither of you could get enough.
He leads you into the bathroom, turning the shower on as steam begins to fill the room. He lifts you onto the counter before positioning himself between your legs. Your heart pounds in your chest as he carefully helps pick all the leaves and sticks from your hair, being gentle to avoid making it even more tangled than it already is. Once he's done, you hop down and stand before him, unsure of what to do next. Jeno decides to take the lead and he watches you with a lazy smile as he reaches for his belt. You can't help but stare at his hands. They are thick, manly, and veined. Your mind races, imagining those hands wrapped around your neck. Jeno likes the way you look at him, his smile turning cocky. He then slides down his jeans, revealing his muscular thighs and the prominent outline of his erection straining against his briefs. You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry.
He leans in, his voice barely a whisper over the roar of the shower, "Help me, yeah?"
You step closer, your fingers trembling as you hook them into the waistband of his briefs. He notices your shaking hands and bends down to look you in the eyes. "Hey, we can stop if you want. I can shower at my place, you know that, right?" Jeno would never pressure you into something you weren’t ready for and you appreciate him for taking the time to check in on you.
You shake your head, you were beyond horny at this point. "No, please. I need this. I need you."
He sends you a smile, a slow, sexy curve of his lips that drives you crazy. Then he nods, motioning for you to continue.
You pull his briefs down, and his cock springs free, slapping against his abdomen. You gasp, your eyes wide as you take in his size. He's thick and the head of his cock is pink and weeping. It was like a ripe, juicy fruit and you can't help the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips as you imagine tasting him.
Jeno tilts his head with a cocky smirk. "Your turn, princess. No more hiding."
You take a deep breath, unclipping your bra. It falls away, revealing your breasts to him. You shimmy out of your panties, adding them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. You stand tall, your shoulders back, and your chin high. Your heart pounds in your chest as you do your best to appear as confident as Jeno.
You watch his eyes glaze over in lust. ““Come here,” he says softly before guiding you into the shower.
You step into the shower and Jeno's eyes never leave yours. He turns the showerhead, letting the water cascade down your body and washing away the rest of the mud on your skin. You shiver under the intensity of his gaze.
He reaches for the shampoo and his fingers massage your scalp as he works the product into your hair. You close your eyes and your body relaxes under his touch. Once he's done, he rinses your hair.
He grabs the soap and lathers it up in his hands. He starts at your chest and his soapy hands glide over your skin making your breath hitch. Then he cups your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples until they grow hard. He pinches them and the sensation is new and unexpected, causing you to jump slightly and take a step back. He doesn’t let up though, he follows, pressing you against the cold tile wall so that he can explore your body. His hands roam down your sides, over your waist, until they reach your hips. He massages the skin there, continuously lathering you in soap before he reaches around and grabs the flesh of your ass. You gasp, your eyes fluttering closed as he leans in and captures your mouth in a searing kiss.
His tongue dips into your mouth and explores every inch of it. Your tongues dance, your teeth clash, and your breaths mingle. You grab onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. You want him, all of him. You want to know him in ways you never have before.
Your hands slide down his chest and over his abs until they reach his cock. You wrap your hand around it and run your thumb along the rigid veins. He freezes, his mouth agape and his breath hitches. You tighten your grip, stroking him slowly, your hand slick with water and soap.
You remember all the years worth of fanfics, sex articles, and porn you’ve consumed and you use that knowledge to guide you on what to do next. You had read that guys like a tight grip, so you grip him hard enough for him to really feel it. You twist your wrist as you stroke him and tease the sensitive head of his cock before gliding back down to the base. You watch as the water rains down on him, his hair plastered to his forehead and droplets rolling down his abs. You feel a sense of empowerment, knowing that you're the one driving him to the edge.
Jeno lets out a shaky moan, his brows furrowing as he hides his face in your shoulder. "Fuck, who taught you this?" he asks, genuinely puzzled. He'd assumed you were a virgin, but the way you touched him was anything but innocent.
You feel emboldened by his reaction and lean in to purr in his ear. "Shh, just take it. You deserve it." You can feel his body trembling, his grip on your hips turning bruising as you increase the pace, you add your other hand and they work in tandem to drive him closer to the edge.
He leans into you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hips thrust forward, meeting your strokes. You can feel his body tensing, his orgasm building. He lets out a guttural moan before he grips your wrist tight.
Suddenly, he pulls away, taking a clumsy step back. "Wait," he says, his voice rough. "Turn around."
Your stomach clenches in excitement. The look in his eyes promises that you're in for something special. You do as he says and turn to face the wall. You expect to feel his cock, but instead, you feel his warm wet tongue against your folds. He hums at the taste and sucks eagerly at your clit. He needs you ready and wet enough to take him. He slips two thick fingers inside you, stretching you out for him. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and your breath comes in short gasps.
Once he has your juices dripping down his face, he finally stands. Leaning over you, he runs the head of his cock along your slit. "You're so fucking wet," he growls. "You have no idea what you do to me, baby. I've jacked off thinking about you, imagining you coming to my door, begging me to eat your pussy." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "But now, I’m all yours. Whenever you want me, you can have me."
You whimper, your hips wiggling impatiently. You reach back, grabbing his cock, guiding it to your entrance. Testing the waters you dip the fat head of his cock into your cunt again and again until you can't take it anymore.
“All you have to do is ask, baby. Say it.” He grits out as his hand comes up to lightly grip your throat.
"Fuck me," you pant, your voice barely a whisper.
You gasp as Jeno presses his hips forward, stretching you open. It's a new sensation, and your initial instinct is to pull away. You rise onto your tiptoes, but Jeno's grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place. "Stay right there," he breathes, his voice ragged with desire. "Right there…"
He pushes in deeper, and you can feel every inch of him as he fills you completely. You take a moment to adjust, your body throbbing and pulsing around him. When you start to move back against him, he takes it as a sign to begin thrusting.
He starts slow and shallow, testing the rhythm. "How do you want it?"
"Deeper," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the shower. "Faster."
He obliges, his grip on your hips tightening as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the bathroom, drowning out the sound of the shower. He uses his hold on you to move you up and down on his cock, fucking you against him with powerful snaps of his hips.
"You feel so good," he pants, his voice laced with praise. "You're taking it like a champ, baby. You're so fucking wet."
You were delirious and drunk off his words, you wanted more. You can feel your orgasm building and your legs tremble, but you don't want him to stop. "Harder," you beg, your voice barely a whisper. "Fuck me harder."
He growls, his hips moving like a piston as he rams into you., The hand around your neck moves down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing harsh circles that send you spiraling over the edge.
Your climax hits you like a tidal wave and your body convulses as you scream his name but Jeno doesn't stop. He fucks you through your orgasm, his body tense as he chases his own release. "I'm so close, hold on for me," he grunts. "Make me proud, take it."
You're a whimpering mess in his arms, your legs shaking as he finally pulls out, painting your back with his cum. He strokes himself, ensuring he's spilled every last drop.
Your legs give out and you sink down onto the shower floor. Jeno bends down to your level. "You okay?" he asks.
You laugh weakly, shaking your head. "I'm more than okay," you say. "How are you... not even a little out of breath?"
He chuckles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I don't go to the gym for nothing," he says, his voice laced with pride. "Now come on, let me run you a bath." He helps you to your feet, his arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you as you step out of the shower.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬
While cleaning around your house, you notice a small piece of paper slipped under your door. Your heart skips a beat as you see the handwritten message:
Meet me on the roof at 9
One of the main amenities you moved into this apartment for was the rooftop lounge. It’s a quiet, tucked away spot with a view of the city skyline. You start getting ready around 8, choosing an outfit that’s cute yet casual since you weren't sure of the exact occasion. You hesitate for a moment in front of the mirror, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You take a final glance over your outfit to make sure you feel confident then head out the door toward the rooftop. When you step outside the cool night air brushes against your skin.
The space isn’t often used, but tonight, it’s transformed. Twinkling fairy lights and lanterns are draped over railings and in the center stands a small, round table covered with a white cloth and a tiny vase holding a single red rose. A soft melody filled the space as a small speaker played a mellow playlist, setting the mood. It’s a cheesy setup but that makes you love it even more.
Jeno is already waiting at the table, leaning slightly forward with a gentle smile. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he stands to greet you.
He’s dressed in a simple white button down shirt and slacks. It's laid-back but with a touch of formality, which makes you feel a little insecure about the outfit you picked.
"You look amazing," Jeno says softly, and any doubts you had wash away in an instant.
Your cheeks heat, and you can’t help but smile. "What did you want to talk about?" your voice is a little tentative.
“I know you’ve been avoiding me,” he says softly, taking a step towards you. His voice is gentle but steady. “And I know you’re afraid to let your walls down, but I promise I won’t hurt you if you let me in.”
His words hang in the cool night air as you think of a way to explain yourself. It’s true, you had been distant lately, unsure of what your relationship really was. You hadn’t talked about labels yet so you weren’t sure where you stood.
He takes another slow, deliberate step toward you and reaches out to clasp your hand in his. His touch is warm and reassuring. He guides you toward the small, romantic table he’s set up.
As you walk, your eyes are drawn upward. The sky above is a deep blue, speckled faintly with stars struggling to shine through the city’s smog. When you reach the table, you notice a small insulated bag resting beside it. Jeno reaches inside, pulling out plates wrapped in plastic, their steam still rising, trapping the warmth inside. The faint scent of herbs and spices drifts up as he unwraps them, revealing beautifully prepared dishes.
He sets the plates down carefully, placing silverware and a single wine glass in front of you. From his seemingly endless “magic sack,” he retrieves a bottle of wine and he uncorks it. He pours a generous glass for you before doing the same for himself.
You wait until he’s finished, then raise your glass. The two of you sip the wine and the velvety flavor coats your tongue, and you hum softly in content. You offer him a small, thankful smile.
“I’ve been saving this for a special day,” Jeno says happily, his eyes shining. He digs into his food, nodding encouragingly at you to try yours.
You happily take a bite, the flavors bursting in your mouth. You were grateful you had an excuse to remain silent, you were still trying to find the right words.
“Just relax,” he chuckles softly, breaking the quiet with a gentle laugh.
You hate how attuned he is to you, how he can read your mood with such ease. Sometimes it feels like he’s known you forever.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you whisper, “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he replies softly. “We’re fine. We’ve always been fine. Let’s start from here. I’m not looking for an apology. I just missed you. I just want you here with me.”
Your stomach tightens with emotion, and even though you’ve already swallowed your food, the lump in your throat won’t go away. “I’m here. I’ll always be here,” you whisper back.
He offers you a warm, reassuring smile, one that seems to say everything you need to hear. Leaning across the table, he gently wipes away the tears you didn’t realize were falling, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.
You don’t need him to say the words because he’s already shown you how he feels. His care is evident in every gesture, in the way he listens, in the gentle way he looks at you. He’s never too direct, and you appreciate that. Sometimes you think he’s afraid that being too honest might scare you away.
Thank you Jeno, for always being the brave one, but I think it's my turn
You take a deep breath and meet his gaze directly. “I love you.” The words come out confident, steady, and unwavering. You don’t dare look away.
Jeno’s face lights up with the biggest smile. “I thought I might never hear those words,” he says.
tags. college au, friends to situationship, subtle acts of love, quiet devotion, drunk friends being chaotic, soft jaemin, acts of service as a love language, late night drives. explicit sexual content, fwb dynamics, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), desk sex (oral), praise kink, soft dirty talk, realistic college setting, no protection mentioned (i forgot), consensual, slow build orgasms, body description, light marking, aftercare elements, pet names.
pairings. na jaemin x fem!reader
genre. fluff, smut (18+)
w.c. 5,266
notes. requested fic!
🎀. five friends survive into second year college. jaemin is the quiet one who takes care of everyone without being asked. between him and you, something undefined but exclusive has been building since first year. in public he's subtle. alone he isn't.
the tent is loud. it is always loud with them.
the plastic tarp flaps against the metal poles every time someone shoulders through the entrance, and the steam from the boiling tteokbokki pot fogs up the small space until everything looks soft at the edges. haechan is halfway through a story about his communications professor who apparently showed up to zoom class in a bathrobe, and mark is laughing so hard he has to put his forehead down on the sticky table. minjeong is leaning against your shoulder, eyes half lidded, her third glass of somaek mostly untouched in front of her now.
you are across from jaemin.
this is where you always end up. not by accident anymore, not since first year when you both started gravitating toward the same side of whatever booth or couch or floor was available. tonight he is wedged between the wall and haechan's flailing elbow, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms, one hand wrapped around a beer he has been nursing for the past hour. he is listening to haechan but not really. you can tell by the way his gaze keeps drifting. back to you. away. back to you.
he does not make it obvious. that is the thing about jaemin. he is subtle in the way that people who are not looking for it will never catch. a glance held a second too long when you laugh. his knee shifting under the table until it rests against yours and then stays there, a steady pressure you have grown used to over the past year and a half. his fingers pushing the little plate of pickled radish closer to your side of the table without a word because he knows you like it with the fried dumplings.
you did not ask him to do that. you never ask.
he just notices.
"and then," haechan is saying, gesturing so broadly he nearly knocks over minjeong's glass, "she goes, 'well, communication is about authenticity,' and i was like, miss, you are wearing a bathrobe. a literal bathrobe."
mark wheezes. minjeong groans. you smile and reach for your water.
jaemin is already pouring it for you.
the pitcher tilts in his hand before you can even extend your arm. he fills your cup to just below the rim, the way you prefer, and sets the pitcher back down without looking at you, his attention still seemingly on haechan's story. but the corner of his mouth ticks up. just barely.
you mouth thank you. he blinks once. slow. a private acknowledgement.
"you're so whipped," haechan says, and it takes you a second to realize he is talking to jaemin.
jaemin's expression does not change. "for pouring water?"
"for pouring her water. you didn't pour mine."
"you have hands."
"i have hands," haechan repeats, scandalized. "mark, did you hear that. jaemin said i have hands."
mark lifts his head from the table just long enough to say, "you do, actually," before dropping it back down.
minjeong snorts. you laugh. jaemin's gaze flicks to you again, quick, cataloguing the sound like he is saving it somewhere.
the night stretches on. more bottles appear. haechan orders another round of soju even though jaemin shakes his head and says, "you're gonna regret this tomorrow." haechan waves him off. mark is red in the face now, giggling at everything. minjeong has fully given up on sitting upright and is slumped against your side, her cheek pressed to your sleeve.
you are warm. tired. the kind of tired that settles in after a long week of readings for your contemporary lit class and the three page response paper you still have not started. your eyes sting from the grill smoke. your head feels light.
you need the bathroom.
you shift in your seat, trying to extricate yourself from minjeong without waking her, and the movement makes the table wobble. haechan's glass clinks against mark's. you brace a hand on the edge of the booth and push yourself up, but your legs are heavier than you expected. the soju has settled into your bloodstream, a low hum.
jaemin is already standing.
you do not see him move. one moment he is across the table, and the next he is beside you, his hand under your elbow, steadying. not gripping. just there. a suggestion of support.
"i'm fine," you say automatically.
"i know," he says.
haechan, who has the observational skills of a hawk when it comes to other people's business and absolutely none when it comes to his own, zeroes in immediately. "jaemin, y/n can walk okay?"
his voice is teasing, loud enough that the couple at the next table glances over. mark snickers into his arm. minjeong stirs against the booth cushion and mumbles something that sounds vaguely like leave them alone but could also just be kimchi jjigae. it is hard to tell.
jaemin does not rise to it. his thumb brushes once against the inside of your elbow, feather light, before he drops his hand. but he does not step away.
"someone has to make sure you don't walk into a pole on the way to the car later," he says to haechan, flat. "least i can do is make sure y/n finds the bathroom."
"that doesn't even make sense."
"it doesn't have to. you're drunk."
mark howls. haechan sputters something indignant but jaemin is already turning, his hand hovering near the small of your back as he guides you through the narrow gap between tables. he does not touch you. not here, not in front of everyone. but the space he leaves is deliberate. close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him.
the bathroom is at the back of the tent, past the kitchen entrance where the ajumma is flipping jeon on a sizzling griddle. the noise of the tent fades a little here, muffled by steam and the rhythmic slap of her spatula.
you stop outside the door. jaemin stops too.
"i'm really okay," you say again, quieter this time.
"i know," he says again.
he leans against the wall opposite the bathroom door, arms crossed loosely, his hoodie bunched at his elbows. the fluorescent light above him buzzes faintly. it makes the shadows under his eyes look deeper than they are, or maybe they really are that deep. political science is eating him alive this semester. you know he pulled two all nighters last week because he texted you at 4 a.m. a photo of his desk covered in highlighters and empty coffee cups with no caption.
you had sent back a photo of your own desk. also a mess. also 4 a.m.
he had replied with a single emoji. the little blue heart.
it was not a big thing. it never is with him.
he waits while you use the bathroom. when you come out, he is in the exact same position, but his phone is in his hand now. he pockets it the second the door opens. his eyes find yours in the dim light.
"you tired?" he asks.
"yeah."
"me too."
neither of you move. the ajumma shouts something to the kitchen boy. a burst of laughter erupts from the front of the tent. haechan's voice carries over all of it, unmistakable, probably starting another story.
jaemin is looking at you. not the way he looks at you across the table when other people are watching. this is different. this is the way he looks at you when it is just the two of you, when the pretense falls away and he lets himself be still.
his gaze moves over your face. your eyes, your nose, the tired slope of your mouth. cataloguing. the same way he always does.
"headache?" he asks.
"a little."
"i have the good painkillers at my place. not the cheap ones haechan buys."
you huff a small laugh. "of course you do."
his mouth curves. not a full smile. just a softening.
"come over after," he says. it is not a question. it has not been a question for a while now. when things get hard, you both run for each other. his place has become an unspoken sanctuary. his extra toothbrush in the bathroom. your charger permanently plugged in next to his bed. the hoodie of his you never gave back folded on his chair because you both pretend it lives there now.
"okay," you say.
he nods once. pushes off the wall. his hand finds the small of your back this time, brief, just enough pressure to guide you back toward the chaos of your friends.
you walk back to the table and haechan is mid sentence about something else entirely, his attention already diverted to a new topic. mark is trying to pour another round but missing the glasses entirely. minjeong has woken up enough to film mark failing at pouring, her phone held unsteadily in one hand.
jaemin slides back into his spot across from you. under the table, his foot nudges yours.
you nudge back.
no one notices.
the night ends the way it always ends. haechan arguing about the bill, mark too drunk to do basic addition, minjeong half asleep on her feet.
jaemin handles it.
he does not make a production of it. he simply pulls out his card, passes it to the ajumma before haechan can finish saying "no but wait i think i owe more because i had the extra—" and waits with his arms crossed while the receipt prints. haechan tries to venmo him immediately and drops his phone on the floor. mark picks it up and drops it again. minjeong is leaning heavily against your shoulder, her breath warm and slow against your neck.
you do not want to let go of her.
she is your person in the way jaemin is your person but different. minjeong knows the versions of you from before. she sat next to you in intro to literary theory when you both realized you had no idea what derrida was talking about and decided to be confused together. she held your hand during freshman orientation when you got overwhelmed by the crowd. she is the one you call when jaemin is the one making your chest feel too full and you need someone to just listen.
so when jaemin steps out of the tent and glances back at the four of you huddled on the sidewalk, his phone already to his ear, you tighten your arm around minjeong's waist.
"cab for haechan and mark," he says, hanging up. "three minutes."
"what about minjeong," you say.
jaemin looks at you. then at minjeong, who has her eyes closed and her cheek smushed against your coat. then back at you.
"i got her one too. separate."
you blink at him. "you called three cabs?"
"two. i'm driving you."
the words are simple. flat. like it is the most obvious thing in the world. haechan, who is swaying slightly and holding onto mark's shoulder for balance, squints at jaemin.
"you barely drank again," haechan accuses.
"someone has to get you home."
"mom behavior."
"shut up, haechan."
the cab pulls up. jaemin opens the door and physically guides haechan into the backseat like he is herding a particularly uncooperative cat. mark follows more easily, mumbling something about seeing everyone tomorrow, and jaemin leans down to give the driver the address before shutting the door. the taillights blur red and then disappear around the corner.
minjeong's cab arrives four minutes later.
you do not want to let go.
"she can stay at mine," you say, looking at jaemin.
he does not argue. he does not sigh or roll his eyes or say come on, y/n. he just stands there, hands in the pockets of his jacket, and waits.
but minjeong stirs. she blinks her eyes open, takes in the cab, takes in jaemin standing a few feet away, and something knowing passes over her face. she is drunk but not stupid. she sees the way jaemin is looking at you. she has seen it for a year and a half.
"go," she mumbles, patting your arm clumsily. "i'm fine. text me when you get home."
"minjeong—"
"i'm fine," she repeats, firmer. she pulls back, sways once, and steadies herself on the open cab door. she points a finger at jaemin. "take care of her."
jaemin nods once. "always."
minjeong folds herself into the cab. the door closes. the car pulls away.
and then it is just you and him on the empty sidewalk, the pojangmacha tent glowing orange behind you, the october air sharp and cold.
you turn to look at him. your head is fuzzy. the soju has turned your thoughts soft at the edges. you are trying to remember if you thanked him for paying because you did not see him do it but you know he did. he always does. the bill, the cabs, the small unspoken things that keep everyone afloat.
"you paid," you say. it comes out more like a statement than a question.
jaemin shrugs. "haechan will venmo me tomorrow. mark will forget and then venmo me three days later with extra for 'emotional damages.' minjeong will try to pay me back and i'll tell her to buy you coffee instead."
his voice is even. like this is just how things work. like taking care of people is not a choice he makes but a fact of his existence.
the cold makes you shiver. you are wearing your own coat but it is thin, not meant for october nights that drop below ten degrees. jaemin notices. of course he notices.
he shrugs off his jacket.
"you don't have to—"
"i know."
he holds it open for you. you turn and let him drape it over your shoulders. it swallows you. the sleeves hang past your fingertips. it smells like him. fabric softener and something faintly citrus and just jaemin. the warmth from his body still clings to the lining.
you had been wearing it since you all stepped out of the tent onto the sidewalk. you do not remember exactly when he put it on you. maybe while you were saying goodbye to minjeong. maybe while haechan was yelling about the venmo request. no one noticed. they never notice.
but you notice. you always notice.
he looks at you in his jacket and something in his face shifts. the careful neutrality he wears around everyone else softens at the corners. his eyes trace over you and he smiles. not the performative smile he gives when haechan makes a joke or when someone points a camera at him. the real one. the one that makes the dimple appear on his left cheek, deeper than the right, a small divot that you have pressed your thumb into more times than you can count.
"come on," he says quietly.
his car is parked half a block down. he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, closest to the street, a habit he has had since high school that you called him out on once and he denied and then kept doing anyway. his hand brushes yours as you walk. once. twice. the third time he just takes it. his palm is warm and dry and his fingers slot between yours like they belong there.
at the car he opens the passenger door for you. waits until you are settled. closes it gently. when he slides into the driver's seat and starts the engine, the heater kicks on low, and the dashboard lights cast his face in soft blue.
he does not pull out right away.
he sits there, hands on the wheel, looking at you.
"what," you say.
"you're pretty."
it comes out simple. factual. like he is telling you the time or the weather. you are pretty. period.
you are drunk enough that the words hit you square in the chest. your face heats. you look away, out the window at the empty street, but you can feel him still looking at you.
"jaemin."
"what."
"you can't just say that."
“why not."
"because."
"that's not a reason."
you turn back to him. his eyes are soft. patient. he is waiting for you to find the words but you do not have them. you never do when he looks at you like this.
he leans over the center console. one hand leaves the wheel and comes up to your face. his thumb brushes the curve of your cheek, light, like he is handling something fragile. his gaze drops to your mouth and then back up to your eyes. asking. always asking. even now, after a year and a half of this thing between you that has no name, he still asks.
you nod. barely a movement. just enough.
he kisses you.
it is not rushed. jaemin does not rush things with you. his mouth moves against yours slow and sure, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. he tastes like the barley tea he drank instead of soju. warm. familiar. he pulls back just enough to press his forehead to yours.
"missed you," he says.
"i was with you all night."
"not the same." his thumb traces the line of your jaw. "can't look at you the way i want to when everyone's there."
you know what he means. the restraint he holds in his body around your friends. the careful distance he keeps. the way he looks at you across the table like he is memorizing you because that is all he is allowed to do in public. but here, in the quiet of his car with the heater humming and the streetlights pooling gold on the dashboard, he does not have to hold back.
"missed you too," you say.
his smile returns. the dimple. god, the dimple.
he kisses you again. once, soft. then he pulls back and shifts the car into gear.
"let's go home," he says.
home. his place. the studio apartment in sinchon with the extra toothbrush and your charger and his hoodie on the chair. home is wherever he is. it has been for a while now. you think he knows that. you think maybe he has known longer than you have.
his hand finds yours over the console as he drives. he does not let go until he has to park.
you sat on the edge of jaemin's narrow dorm bed feeling the last traces of the party haze fade away. the sweet citrus flavor of the hangover drink he had handed you still lingered on your tongue. your head felt steady now. the loud music from the tent earlier had turned into a distant hum through the thin walls.
the small room smelled like old paper and the faint laundry detergent from his sheets mixed with the leftover scent of his cologne.
textbooks and loose notes covered almost every inch of the wooden desk pushed against the wall. a single lamp cast a warm yellow glow over the chaos of highlighters pens and printed lecture slides. the single window showed the dark campus night outside with a few scattered lights from other dorm buildings.
you shifted slightly on the bed and looked at him. he was still in that plain black t shirt that fit snug across his chest and shoulders from the gym sessions he squeezed in between classes.
his hair looked a little messy where he had run his fingers through it earlier while trying to study. you did not mention the studying or the papers. you just spoke quietly.
"i feel better now."
jaemin turned his chair around to face you fully. he gave you that small genuine smile. “good.”
the one where the corners of his eyes crinkled just enough to make his expression soft and real. no dramatic words. he stood up slowly and crossed the short distance between the desk and the bed. the floor creaked faintly under his steps on the old linoleum. he stopped right in front of you and leaned down. one hand came up to cup the back of your neck gently. his palm felt warm against your skin.
he kissed you without hurry. his lips pressed soft at first. warm and familiar. you tasted the plain water he had been drinking mixed with the quiet steadiness that was just him. when you kissed him back he deepened it slowly. his tongue brushed against yours in a lazy slide. you let out a small involuntary moan against his mouth. "jaemin."
that sound hit him low in his gut. he felt the shift inside himself. the quiet want that had been building since he saw you at the party earlier. his hands moved to your waist. steady and sure. “shh, let me make you feel even better.”
he guided you up from the bed until you were standing with him. then he turned you around with gentle pressure. your hips met the edge of the desk. papers crinkled softly under your palms as you braced yourself there. the wood felt cool through the thin fabric of your shirt.
jaemin pressed close behind you. his chest brushed your back. one arm wrapped around your middle to hold you steady against him. he did not shove or rush anything. his breath was even near your ear. he reached down and popped the button of your denim shorts open with one hand. the zipper came down next. he tugged the shorts and your panties down together in one smooth motion. they slid to your ankles. the cool air of the dorm room touched your bare skin and made you shiver lightly.
his palm settled between your legs right away. broad and warm. he rested it there for a moment just feeling. his fingers were slightly calloused from guitar strings and late nights writing notes. you were already slick. soaked from the kisses and the way his body felt pressed against yours.
"fuck, youre so wet." he murmured low against your ear. his voice stayed calm and quiet. no exaggeration. just honest want. "so needy for me already. dripping like this."
he started rubbing slow circles with his palm. the pressure light at first. teasing your clit without giving too much. his other hand stayed on your hip. thumb stroking small soothing patterns over your skin. he leaned in and kissed the side of your neck. open mouthed and unhurried. his lips trailed lower to your collarbone. he sucked gently there. enough to pull blood to the surface and leave a faint mark that would fade by morning if you covered it. then he moved up to your jaw. kissing and sucking softly while his palm kept working between your thighs in those lazy circles.
you pushed back against his hand a little. hips rolling on instinct. jaemin smiled against your skin. you could feel the curve of his mouth. he slid one finger inside you then. slow and deliberate. letting you feel every inch as he pushed in. his finger was long and thick. it stretched you just right. he curled it gently at first. searching for that spot inside you that made your breath catch. when he found it he started moving. pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in. the pace built gradually. from slow and deep to faster and firmer.
his biceps flexed visibly with each thrust of his hand. the muscle shifting smooth and strong under his skin as he worked you. the wet sounds of his finger moving in and out filled the small quiet room. mixed with your quickening breaths and the faint creak of the desk under your weight.
"thats it baby." he said softly right by your ear. his tone stayed even and low. like he was talking you through something simple and good. "you feel so good around my finger. tight and warm. taking it so well for me."
he kept the quiet praise coming between kisses. his lips never left your neck and shoulder for long. "look how wet you are pretty. soaking my hand already. you needed this didnt you. needed me to touch you like this."
your legs started to tremble after a while. the slow build had your body heating up gradually. tension coiling low in your belly. “please…” you moaned, needily.
“please what?”
“harder, please..”
he chuckled darkly, jaemin did not speed up suddenly. he kept the rhythm steady. finger fucking you deep and firm while his palm rubbed firm circles against your clit. the combination made the pleasure climb higher. slow and inevitable. your breathing turned ragged. fingers curling tighter against the scattered papers on the desk. some of them slid sideways under your palms.
he sucked on your collarbone again. then your jaw. his free hand held your hip steady so you stayed balanced. the flex of his arm behind you felt solid and reassuring. you could feel the heat of his body through his t shirt. the faint scent of his skin and the detergent on his clothes.
the orgasm built up slow just like he wanted it to. starting as a warm flutter deep inside. then spreading outward in waves that grew stronger with every curl of his finger and press of his palm. your thighs shook first. small tremors that turned into full shakes as it got closer. your walls started fluttering around his finger. clenching in anticipation.
when it finally hit you it crashed through hard. your whole body shook. legs trembling uncontrollably as the orgasm ripped through you. you moaned his name broken and quiet. forehead dropping down onto the rumpled papers. your walls clamped tight around his finger. pulsing and squeezing in rhythmic waves that made your vision blur for a second. the pleasure rolled on and on. leaving you gasping and shaking against the desk.
jaemin kept moving his finger gently through it all. drawing it out until the shakes eased into small aftershocks. only then did he slide his finger out slow. he brought it up to his mouth without hesitation. licked it clean with a low hum. tasting you on his tongue.
"you taste so good baby." he said quietly. voice a little rougher now from holding back. "sweet and perfect."
he dropped to his knees behind you right after. the movement smooth and unhurried. his hands came up to spread your thighs a little wider. careful so you would not lose balance against the desk. his breath ghosted warm over your sensitive soaked skin. then his mouth was on you. tongue flat and broad as he licked a slow stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. he groaned softly at the taste. the vibration traveling straight through you.
he ate you out with the same focused patience. tongue circling your clit in steady strokes. then dipping inside you to lick at your entrance. sucking lightly on your folds before returning to your clit. his hands gripped your ass gently. thumbs spreading you open so he could bury his face deeper. the wet sounds were louder now. intimate and real in the quiet dorm. no rush. just the steady heat of his mouth working you over.
"so sweet, so pretty." he murmured between licks. voice muffled against your pussy. "my good girl. so fucking wet still. letting me taste you like this."
the second orgasm started building even slower than the first. your body already sensitive from the first release. every lick and suck sent sparks through your nerves. the tension coiled again. tighter this time. your hips rocked back against his face on their own. fingers gripping the edge of the desk hard. knuckles turning white.
jaemin stayed right there. tongue flicking and circling. sucking on your clit with just enough pressure. his hands kept you spread and steady. he licked inside you deep. then back up to swirl around your clit again. the build felt endless. pleasure stacking layer by layer until your thighs began shaking once more.
when the second orgasm hit it was intense. your body shook hard. legs trembling violently as waves of pleasure surged through you. you cried out softly. pressing back against his mouth while your walls fluttered and clenched around nothing. the release left you breathless and oversensitive. small whimpers escaping as he licked you gently through the aftershocks. slowing down until you pushed weakly at his head.
jaemin stood up behind you. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his breathing came a little heavier now. chest rising and falling under the black t shirt. he wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you upright against his chest. the hug felt loose and warm. solid. his chin rested on your shoulder for a long moment. you could feel his heartbeat against your back. steady and real.
"you okay?" he asked. voice soft and genuine. no theatrics. just quiet concern. he pressed a small kiss to your temple. lips lingering there.
“yeah.” you nodded. still catching your breath. the papers on the desk lay rumpled and slightly scattered from where your hands had pressed down. jaemin did not glance at them. he reached down and helped you step back into your panties and shorts. his hands careful and steady as he pulled them up your legs. adjusting them on your hips like it was the most natural thing.
he guided you away from the desk then. toward the narrow bed against the other wall. the mattress dipped slightly as he pulled you down with him. he lay back first and let you settle against his chest. one arm draped around your shoulders. his fingers stroked slow lines up and down your back. the room felt even quieter now. the distant party noise almost gone. just the faint sound of your breathing and his.
jaemin closed his eyes for a moment. content with the way you fit against him. warm and close. the studying could wait until morning. the textbooks and notes would still be there. right now he preferred this. the quiet afterglow. the feel of your body relaxing against his. he kissed the top of your head once. soft and unhurried.
"stay a bit longer." he said. voice low in the dim light. "rather be with you right now anyway."
you stayed like that. tangled together on his dorm bed. the lamp still on at the desk casting long shadows across the room. the night outside the window felt far away. just the two of you in the small space. skin warm. breaths even. the easy comfort of being close after everything.
jaemin let his hand keep stroking your back. slow and rhythmic. his mind quiet for once. no rush to get back to the books. no pressure from midterms tonight. he felt the way your body had shaken under his hands and mouth. the memory made him smile faintly to himself. he pressed another light kiss to your hair. breathing you in. the faint scent of your skin mixed with the party remnants and the dorm air.
word count: 4.7k+ | genre: fluff, smut | featured couple: 💘🪽
synopsis: jaemin navigates jealousy for the very first time. most of it a war in his own mind. and because of it, he does something else for the very first time too…
↳ takes place in flying kiss -> scene: bunny’s reveal party
“shouldn’t you get your girlfriend, jaemin?” mark asks casually, “i know that wonbin guy has a thing for her.”
jaemin just laughs, completely unbothered, the sound low and confident as he sips from his drink.
“nah, he doesn’t stand a chance,” he says, the dream boys around him chuckling in agreement, the easy camaraderie easing any tension before it can take root.
his eyes drift back to you anyway, watching as you throw your head back in laughter at something giselle said, your arm twisted around somi’s.
you’re a bit tipsy now, the alcohol making your movements loose and joyful, cheeks flushed as you sway gently to the beat. it’s why you don't really notice wonbin's advances — you're just having fun with your girls and currently playing matchmaker with bunny and her long time crush, sungchan.
the riize boys settle in deeper, sungchan and bunny inching closer, while shotaro pulls somi into a quick twirl that has her squealing. wonbin, though, keeps his focus on you, edging closer with that flirty smile of his. he comments on the song playing, his hand brushing your elbow and you nod along absently, more caught up in giselle’s exaggerated retelling of a disastrous date than anything else.
to you, it’s all harmless chatter. your relationship with jaemin is solid, happy, and secure — no room for wandering thoughts about anyone else here.
from across the room though, jaemin watches it all. his initial amusement fading into something sharper as wonbin doesn’t let up. the guy’s laugh rings out too loud, his fingers grazing your lower back when the crowd shifts, his gaze lingering a little too long.
jaemin’s jaw sets, an unfamiliar coil tightening in his gut. he’s never been a jealous person. but at this moment he’s learning that maybe the green monster lives inside him too.
he’s pissed that wonbin is even trying with you.
1) everyone in this damn university knew you were his. if it wasn’t for the public confession he shared through his radio show — then the amount of times he’s kissed you in public, held your hand, pulled you to his side, should have been enough.
2) what the hell happened to bro code?
every second his “bro” stays planted next to you makes something in jaemin’s chest tighten another notch. the audacity to even breathe in your direction is astounding.
his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, gaze darkening as he watches the way you tilt your head when you listen, the way you smile politely — and suddenly he’s hyperaware of how easy it would be for someone else to misunderstand that smile.
how easy it would be to want more.
his fingers curl tight around his red cup.
it’s irrational. he knows it is. you’ve never given him a reason to feel jealousy. if anything, you’ve always been so openly his that it makes his chest ache.
and then you catch his eye through the wave of bodies, flashing him that bright, sweet smile — the one that always hits him right in the chest, making his pulse kick up.
god, he loves that smile. it's his.
before he can move, you're the one closing the distance, weaving through the crowd with determination, your hand reaching for him as you pull him toward you, “baby,” you say, voice warm and playful over the music, tugging him into your space.
he watches you, amused, the irritation from moments ago melting under your touch.
“you having fun, my angel?” he asks, his free hand coming up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, thumb lingering on your cheek as he leans in closer, the party’s chaos fading to a hum around you both.
“mhm,” you hum softly, the sound vibrating through him as your arms slide up to loop around his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at his nape.
“why are you standing here all alone, though?” you ask, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, your breath warm and laced with the faint sweetness of whatever fruity drink you've been sipping.
jaemin’s mouth quirks into that teasing grin, his hands settling on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your shirt, “my girl has been stolen from me and i was waiting for her to remember i existed,” he says, voice low and playful, though there's a flicker of a hidden edge in his tone.
your eyes widen in mock surprise, a giggle bubbling up as you lean in closer, “sorry,” you smile sheepishly, “—giselle and i were full on operation get bunny and sungchan together but then she started telling this story about this date she went on and—”
he doesn't let you finish, cutting you off with a kiss that's slow and deep, lips claiming yours in a way that silences the world around you. one hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, while the other pulls you flush against him, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes. you melt into it, kissing him back just as deeply.
when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours for a beat, “i was kidding, angel,” he murmurs softly, “you were having fun…you don’t need to explain that.”
but even as he says it, jaemin’s mind flashes back to wonbin's hand on your waist, the way the guy had leaned in too far. it’s stupid and he knows it — you're here now, wrapped around him like you belong, which you do.
still, the possessiveness simmers under his skin, a quiet burn that makes him want to stake his claim all over again, right here if he could.
“hmm, i want to have fun with you though,” you murmur, your voice a soft, teasing lilt that cuts through the war in his mind, fingers tracing heart shaped patterns on his chest.
jaemin's eyes sparkle with interest, his last remnants of irritation fading into the background.
“want to dance?” he suggests, hand already shifting to the small of your back, ready to lead you into the crowd.
you shake your head, a playful no, “a different kind of fun...just me and you,” you say, a small sultry smile forming on your lips, your gaze locking onto his with unmistakable intent.
the words hang between you, charged and electric — he knows exactly what that means, the way your body language shifts, pressing closer.
heat surges through him. he doesn’t hesitate, nodding with a low hum of approval as you take his hand, fingers interlacing with his and start guiding him away from the dance floor, weaving through the bodies of laughing friends and strangers as you head toward the stairs.
as you pass the group — giselle mid-story with somi and shotaro listening to her, sungchan and bunny off to the side — jaemin’s gaze lands on wonbin. the guy is standing there, drink in hand, his eyes flicking toward you with that same lingering interest from before, almost like jaemin was invisible to him.
jaemin can’t help it — he glares, sharp and unyielding, his free hand dropping to your waist instead, fingers digging in just enough to tighten his hold, pulling you flush against his side. he doesn't say a word, but his eyes say enough:
she’s mine.
wonbin meets the stare for a split second, then looks away, busying himself with his drink, the message received loud and clear. you don't notice the silent exchange, too focused on the warmth of jaemin’s body next to yours, the anticipation building with each step up the stairs.
the party’s noise dulls to a muffled throb behind the closed door of his bedroom, the space familiar and intimate. you release his hand only to turn the lock with a soft click, sealing you both away from the world below.
without a word, you both kick off your shoes like it’s routine. he sinks down against the headboard, his legs stretching out and you climb onto his lap, straddling him with effortless familiarity. his arms snake around your waist immediately, pulling you flush against his chest, clingy in a way that makes your heart flutter, hands roaming lazily up your back, providing you that comfort only he could.
you settle in, your head resting on his shoulder for a moment before you tilt up with a conspiratorial grin.
“i think operation get bunny and sungchan together is a total success,” you declare, your voice light and buzzing with the thrill of the evening’s gossip.
“is it now?” jaemin murmurs, his lips curving into an amused smile against your temple, clearly delighted by your enthusiasm. he nuzzles closer, his breath warm on your skin.
“yeah, didn’t you see them? they were standing so close—like, really close,” you gush, your eyes sparkling as you replay the moment in your mind.
“hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, “that’s too bad for jeno, though.”
you pull back slightly, raising a brow in curiosity. “what do you mean?”
he chuckles softly, his gaze softening as he watches your expression, “he’s been in love with her since forever. i just don't think he knows yet.”'
your eyes widen, surprise flickering across your face, “really?!”
“mhm,” jaemin confirms with a nod, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your side.
“huh,” you muse, tilting your head as you process the revelation, “well, maybe this will finally help him see things clearly... though that's a little unfair to bunny, don't you think?” you pout, your lips pursing in that endearing way he absolutely adores.
he finds it utterly adorable, his chest rumbling with a quiet laugh, “and why’s that, angel?”
“becauseee…jeno's had all these years to figure it out, and it takes someone else giving her attention for him to wake up? i don’t know... she deserves more than that. someone who sees her right away, without needing a push.”
jaemin hums in delight, the sound vibrating through you where you're pressed together, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he drinks in your thoughtful expression.
“....unless you know something i don’t,” you add, prying with a playful nudge, eager for more of the juicy details.
he smiles, a fond, reminiscent curve to his lips, “you should’ve seen those two the start of freshman year. i used to watch them and wish i had something like that — real, effortless...the kind of connection that just clicks...if it doesn’t happen now, i’m sure it will eventually.”
“what changed then? why didn’t anything happen between them?,” you ask, completely absorbed.
“the whole party life got the best of us,” he replies with a wry shrug, his voice tinged with self-deprecating humor, “chasing thrills, avoiding anything that stuck. it was fun enough to get lost in.”
you hum softly, falling quiet for a beat, your fingers absently tracing the collar of his shirt as the weight of his words settles.
“do you miss it?” you ask, voice gentle, eyes searching his.
for a split second jaemin just stares at you, like the question itself is ridiculous. then he lets out a quiet breath and shakes his head no.
“not even a little,” his expression softens, something unguarded slipping through as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “i’m happy exactly where i’m at — with you.” his voice drops, intimate and sure, and before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and sweet, like a promise sealed in the quiet.
it’s tender, his mouth moving against yours with unhurried affection, soft presses that deepen gradually.
in jaemin's mind, it hits him again, sharp and undeniable — how deeply he loves you, this easy rhythm you share, the way you fit against him like you were made for it, the way you look at him like he’s more than the image everyone else sees.
and how love like this doesn’t come without it’s uglier edges.
because with the warmth in his chest comes the quieter things too — the things he doesn't always like admitting to himself. like the sharp flicker of jealousy when someone looks at you a little too long, the instinctive pull to keep you close, to remind the world that you’re his.
it’s never loud. never reckless. jaemin has always been good at keeping those feelings tucked neatly beneath the surface. but they’re there.
the kiss heats up, growing hungrier as his hands slide under your shirt, palms warm and insistent against your bare skin. your breaths quicken, bodies shifting with building need, until he can't hold back anymore.
with a low groan, he swiftly moves you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he hovers above, eyes dark with desire.
his body settles over yours, bracing one arm beside your head, his other hand cupping your cheek. the kiss breaks only for him to trail his lips down your jaw, nipping lightly at your skin while his fingers work the buttons of your shirt open, exposing your chest to the cool air of the room. you arch up into him, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his abs, urging him closer.
“you're so beautiful,” jaemin whispers against your collarbone, his voice rough with need as he pushes the shirt off your shoulders, tossing it aside along with your bra.
his mouth follows, kissing a hot path down to your breasts, his large hand squeezing the flesh before he sucks it into his mouth, drawing a gasp from you. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as heat sparks through you.
his free hand grips your hip, thumb dipping under the waistband of your pants, an undercurrent of urgency in his touch, his breaths coming faster.
you tug at his shirt in response, and he pulls back just enough to yank it over his head, revealing the toned lines of his torso that you trace with your nails.
clothes shed in a hurried rhythm — your pants slide down your legs, his following suit until you're both bare, skin flushed and heated.
jaemin’s cock stands hard and thick against his stomach, the tip already glistening as he positions himself between your thighs, nudging them wider with his knee. he reaches down, fingers parting your folds to stroke his cock against your clit in slow circles, watching your face intently as you moan, your hips bucking up for more.
“jaem... please,” you breathe, your voice needy, and he groans at the sound, leaning down to kiss you deeply while he teases you with his tip.
“i’ve got you, angel,” he murmurs against your lips, his eyes locking on yours, dark and possessive, before pushing in slowly. inch by inch, he fills you, the stretch burning sweetly as your pussy adjusts to his size, gripping him tight.
you both sigh at the connection, his forehead resting against yours as he bottoms out, holding still to let you adjust to his length the way he knows you need to.
“feels so good,” he says softly, starting to move with shallow thrusts, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that builds the heat between you. your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he quickens the pace just a fraction.
but as he watches you — eyes half-lidded, lips parted in pleasure, soft moans of his name slipping past them, your breasts bouncing with each gentle snap of his hips — something twists in his chest.
the jealousy surges back, uninvited, hot and sharp.
wonbin thought he could have this? get you like this? see you writhing under him, moaning his name?
the thought fuels him, his thrusts turning harder, deeper, his hand gripping your thigh to hitch your leg higher, angling so he hits that spot inside you with every drive.
you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as the shift catches you off guard, pleasure spiking.
“jaemin—oh god,” you gasp, doing your best to meet his movements, your pussy fluttering around his cock.
he growls low in his throat, the sound primal as he pounds into you, the bed creaking under the force.
no one else gets this. you’re mine.
his free hand pins your wrist above your head, his mouth claiming your neck with bites that will surely leave marks, sucking hard enough to bruise. the possessiveness drives him, each slap of skin against skin echoing his frustration.
fuck that guy. this is what you look like for me. and only me.
his hips snap relentlessly now, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that has you clenching tighter.
“jaem—,” you whimper his name as the ecstasy builds way too fast, coiling low in your belly, your legs shaking at the force.
something was different. sure, you weren’t strangers to rough sex, but even when it was rough, jaemin usually liked to take his time with you. liked to accompany his rough thrusts with praises and soft kisses. right now, he’s being too quiet. no whispers of sweet nothings. just frustrated grunts spilling from his lips, his eyebrows furrowed.
he grips your ass, lifting you slightly to fuck you even harder, the head of his cock brushing your cervix with each plunge. sweat slicks your bodies, his muscles flexing as he chases the edge, watching your face contort in bliss, your fingers clenching around his arm desperate to keep yourself grounded.
his hand slips between you, rubbing your clit frantically, and you were an absolute goner.
“come for me,” he rasps, his own control fraying, the jealousy morphing into fierce triumph.
he’ll never know how you feel, how you sound when you shatter.
you cum hard, mouth open in a silent moan, eyes shut in bliss, your pussy clenching incredibly tight, warm juices coating his cock.
the sensation undoes him. jaemin buries himself to the hilt, a guttural moan escaping as he cums inside you for the first time, hot spurts flooding your walls, filling you deeply, marking you in the most intimate way — it’s new. this feeling of him releasing entirely within you, his usual caution forgotten in the heat of the moment.
you’ve been on birth control since early in your relationship, so it doesn't worry you, but he’s always been so careful — always choosing to wear a condom or pulling out to spill across your stomach instead.
he collapses forward, chest heaving against yours, both of you panting in the heavy silence broken only by fading breaths.
after a moment, he rolls to the side, pulling you into his arms with a possessiveness that lingers even now. his hand strokes your stomach lazily, but you can sense the remnants of that edge in the way he holds you close, like he's anchoring himself.
you nestle against his chest, tracing patterns on his skin as your heart rate slows, the warmth of his cum inside you a tangible reminder of the difference tonight.
“that was... different,” you murmur softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “and you... you came inside me. everything okay?”
jaemin pauses, his fingers still tracing lazy circles on your back. he forces a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes — the usual warmth dimmed by a shadow you recognize all too well.
“nothing's wrong... just couldn't help myself,” he says, his voice light, almost playful, as he leans in to brush his lips against your temple.
you shift slightly in his arms, propping yourself up on one elbow to search his face more closely, “jaemin... we promised we’d always tell the truth,”you remind him gently, your hand cupping his cheek, thumb stroking the line of his jaw.
he sighs, a deep, reluctant exhale that ruffles your hair, his gaze dropping to the sheets tangled around your legs before meeting yours again. the confession tumbles out like he's testing the words.
“i... i got jealous,” he admits, the admission rough around the edges, his brow furrowing as if the emotion itself puzzles him, “wonbin was all over you down there — his hand on your back, leaning in too close. and i just...i don't know what to do with it. i've never felt like this before. it's stupid, right? everyone knows you’re mine, but seeing him touch you like that... it pissed me off."
his hand tightens on your hip, pulling you closer as if to reaffirm the words. you can feel the tension easing from his body as he lays it bare, his usual confidence giving way to this unfamiliar territory.
and he knows it’s not about control. not really. it’s just that loving you this much does something strange to his instincts. it makes him protective in ways he never used to be. makes something territorial stir quietly in his chest.
meanwhile, a secret thrill courses through you at his confession, the raw edge of his jealousy making your heart flutter in a way you hadn't expected. it’s endearing, seeing the confident jaemin unravel just a bit over you, and a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the seriousness of the moment.
he notices immediately, his head tilting as he cocks an eyebrow, that familiar playful glint trying to push through the lingering tension, “are you enjoying this?” he asks, his voice laced with mock accusation, though his hand still rests softly on your hip, thumb brushing over your skin.
before he can say more, you lean in and pull him into a deep kiss, your lips molding against his with a softness that contrasts the earlier urgency.
when you break away, your breath mingles with his as you murmur, “now you know how i feel with your fanclub.”
jaemin lets out a genuine laugh then, the sound rumbling from his chest and easing the last of the green from his eyes. he shakes his head, pulling you even closer so your bodies align perfectly.
“angel, that’s different,” he says, his tone affectionate and reassuring, fingers weaving into your hair, “you know i only have eyes for you.”
you smile back, the expression warmer now, your voice dropping to a softer whisper as you trace a finger along his collarbone, “it’s not different because i only have eyes for you, too.”
the words hang in the air between you, simple yet profound, sealing the vulnerability with a quiet promise. his gaze softens completely, understanding, and he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.
the intimacy lingers in the air, your bodies still pressed close in the aftermath, his warmth enveloping you like a promise.
you shift slightly against him, feeling the subtle twitch of his cock stirring back to life, and a playful pout forms on your lips as you meet his gaze.
“now fuck me properly, won't you? that ended too fast,” you murmur, your voice a teasing, adorable whine.
jaemin’s eyes darken with renewed hunger, but a soft smile curves his mouth, affectionate and knowing.
he doesn’t rush this time — instead he guides your leg over his hip so you're facing each other in a close spoon, bodies aligned perfectly, his chest to yours. his hand slides down your thigh, gripping firmly as he positions himself, his hard cock fully against your slick folds. the tip teases your entrance, rubbing back and forth through your wetness before he pushes in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open with a deliberate gentleness that makes you gasp and arch into him.
“fuck, angel,” he groans low, his breath hot against your ear as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours.
you sway your hips in rhythm with his, matching the unhurried but deep thrusts that rock you both together, his cock dragging along your walls with every slide.
“just like that, angel, look at me.”
his free hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, thumb pressing firm, insistent circles over the swollen nub, making your pussy clench around him in response.
he watches you the entire time — his gaze locked on your face, intense and unwavering, drinking in every flutter of your lashes, every parted gasp and moan from your lips. he loves watching you like this, utterly consumed by him, your body responding only to his touch.
“god, you take me so perfectly,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire, his thrusts picking up a fraction, grinding deeper to hit that sensitive spot inside you that sends pleasure up your spine.
the build is slow but electric, his cock plunging in and out with wet, obscene sounds filling the room, your juices coating him as you rock together. your hands roam his back, nails scraping lightly, urging him closer.
“only you can fuck me like this,” you whisper breathlessly, locking eyes with him, your words a soothing balm to his earlier jealousy, “only you make me feel this good — filling me up just right.”
his response is a deep, possessive growl, hips snapping forward harder now, the passion igniting as he claims you with each thrust.
he grunts, thumb circling your clit faster, pressing down to make you whimper and buck against him. your bodies slick with sweat, he leans in to capture your mouth in a soft, deep kiss, tongues tangling as he fucks into you with building fervor, the spooning position allowing him to grind his pelvis against your clit on every inward stroke.
“god, jaemin, yes — right there,” you moan into his lips, pussy fluttering around his thick length, the coil in your belly tightening unbearably. he doesn't let up, pounding deeper.
it's too much — the tight circles on your clit, the way his dick hits every nerve, the sweet words and little sounds he’s making by your ear — your orgasm crashes over you with no warning, walls clamping down hard on him, milking his shaft as you pull him in closer, trying to ground yourself, body shaking, thighs trembling.
he doesn't falter, thrusting into your oversensitive pussy as he chases his peak, the wet slap of skin echoing louder.
“shit, you feel so good clenching like that,” he grunts, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping between you.
you encourage him through your haze, legs wrapping tighter, “cum inside me again, baby — only you get to mark me as yours.”
that pushes him over the edge for the second time — his rhythm stutters, hips grinding deep one last time before he buries himself to the hilt and erupts, hot ropes of cum flooding your walls, coating you thoroughly as a guttural moan tears from his throat, holding you pinned against him, his cock twitching with each spurt until he's spent, pulsing inside your heat.
he stays buried deep, his arms wrapping around you protectively as the aftershocks fade, the room filled with nothing but your shared breaths and the profound connection that no one else could touch.
as the waves of pleasure subside, jaemin remains nestled deep within you for a lingering moment, his body heavy and sated against yours, the warmth of his release seeping into your core. your breaths slowing from ragged gasps to soft sighs.
with gentleness, he eases out of you, his hand stroking your thigh in a soothing caress. he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a handful of tissues, his touch tender as he wipes away the evidence of your shared passion.
“sorry for being too rough earlier, angel,” he murmurs, his voice laced with quiet remorse, eyes searching yours with a mix of affection and concern, “i just... needed you so much tonight.”
you tilt your head, pressing a tender kiss to his damp forehead, your fingers threading gently through his tousled hair, “i love you,” you whisper.
he lifts his gaze to yours, eyes soft and shimmering with unspoken emotion, a smile blooming slow and radiant on his lips.
“i love you more,” he murmurs back, his voice a velvet caress, sweeter than honey as he nuzzles closer.
with a contented hum, he pulls you into his embrace, his head finding solace on your chest. his ear presses against your heartbeat, steady and reassuring, while his arm drapes possessively over your waist, legs tangling with yours in a lazy knot.
the world fades entirely, leaving only this.
and the jealousy may come again. but he knows it would never be enough to overshadow the love. just enough to remind him how much there is to lose.
🪽
an: finally, a loverboy extra for you! notice how i didn’t say sunday? lol yeah…i could not keep up with that :( sorry…i flew too close to the sun with that idea. anyways the second sex position is inspired by benophie iykyk ;) let me know what you think of jealous jaemin 💘
warnings: mdni, freaky!dreamies, freaky!reader, fem!reder, bf!perv!dreamies and their equally perv!gf, insinuated smut in jeno/chenle but i think that’s it not proof read
summary: freaked out pictures you and ur bf post of each other :3
mark:
we all know he loves a slutty 0.5 selfie. so when he posts on his story and it’s him laying back lazily against his headboard, you crawling up his lap, hands up his shirt half way through nibbling on his neck while you both look at the camera with hooded sultry eyes. fans don’t miss where his free hand is gripping and squeezing your ass under your skirt
renjun:
at first glance it looks like a super cute selfie in the back of the uber on your way home from a date, a little blurry, clearly taken in motion, both your eyes a little red, tipsy smiles as you look at the camera, your tongue slightly hanging out while you pose, but a deeper look you will see his hands around your shoulders groping at your boobs. your hands coming behind you to hold his neck and keep him close. he adds the picture to his birthday photo dump and everyone collectively looses their minds cause their lovely prince renjun is more freaked out than they thought
jeno:
a harmless mirror selfie while you’re getting ready right? except it’s not, you’re bent over your vanity, ass pressed hard against his boner to hide it from view. you’re applying lip gloss as you look at your self in the mirror while jeno catches the lense through the glass. his free hand is splayed across your lower back and a strong grip on your hip pulling you back against him and there’s a slight smirk on both your lips. he adds to his story with just a few heart emojis as the caption
haechan:
criminal offender man spreader, so his hard launch of his gf is no different, after weeks of ominously soft launching you. he’s got you in his lap on the couch facing him, each leg hooked over his wide spread legs and around his waist. your hand around his neck, nails slightly digging in and his hand in your hair pulling it back to look up at the camera he has held above his head to snap the pic. he takes a sequence of photos as you lean in to kiss him. he posts them to his main feed in a flurry of spam posts. thinking no one will notice the dump of freaky pics.
jaemin:
again like renjun you might think this is an innocent cute ice cream date photo dump. the first one is of you and him holding your ice cream cones, slightly melting in the heat, smiling and laughing. you’re both looking down at something slightly off camera. the next one is of you leaning down to licking his fingers cleavage on show, collecting some melted ice cream and the next is you and him sharing a kiss, but fans notice the mix of both your different flavours of dessert getting swapped around mid kiss. some dripping down your chin.
chenle:
we all know he’s freaked out, so fans are used to seeing you and him on the feed all over each other. but this new post is something else. you’re in bed cuddled up and clearly naked and the room is dimly lit, and it’s obvious you both just finished having sex. you can see you’re laying all over him under the covers, holding his cheeks while he sticks his tongue out and you’re kissing it, next one is you licking a stripe up his tongue with your own and the last is both your heads side by side, his tongue out in your direction and you in the same position. the tips of both your tongues meeting in the middle while he winks towards the camera and you look up at it with doe eyes.
jisung:
you had made the original post to your feed, and he reposts it to his story. the pic is of the pair of you on vacation in iceland, in the heated pool. he’s shirtless and your on his back, head dropped into his neck clearly doing a number on him. he reposts some more from the slide, the next is him holding you to his chest facing him and away from the camera. hands clasped securely on your butt, finger tips slightly dipping underneath your bikini thong and his neck on show, hickeys blooming and visible scratches from the night before on his shoulders and biceps. the last is go pro footage of you sharing a steamy underwater kiss.
mark doesn’t like arguments, but he does defend what he believes in. passionately. almost to a fault. he’ll start out calm, hands up, saying, “okay, okay, i’m listening,” — but the second you challenge something he’s sure he’s right about, his eyebrows knit and he starts pacing lightly or shake his head unconsciously “i’m not trying to fight,” he insists, “i’m just saying, like, that’s not what happened.” he’s not raising his voice. he’s just stubborn. that earnest, frustrating kind of stubborn that comes from being too honest and too sure of what he remembers. and you’re tired. he can tell, but he’s still trying to finish his point, because in his mind, clearing it up will make things better. then he sees your lip tremble. everything in him deflates. he goes quiet, chewing his lip, shoulders lowering. “wait—wait, i’m sorry. i didn’t realize i was doing that,” he says softly. he sits beside you, leaning forward with his hands clasped. “explain it to me one more time, baby. i'm not gonna cut you off, i swear.” and when you finally let out what’s really bothering you, he listens for real.
—huang renjun
renjun’s biggest problem? he thinks rationality fixes everything. so when the argument begins, he goes straight into explanation mode, arms crossed, voice even, expression unreadable. “i’m not attacking you. i’m just explaining why it doesn’t make sense,” he says, which somehow makes it worse. you’re emotional. he’s logical. it’s oil and water.
the more upset you get, the more confusion flickers across his face, like he genuinely can’t grasp why you’re reacting that way. but then he sees it: the way you look away, shoulders tightening, eyes glossy. and something in him stops cold. his expression softens instantly. he uncrosses his arms, takes a step closer, voice dropping to something fragile. “hey… don’t cry. i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. he pulls you into a quiet hug, one arm around your waist, the other stroking your hair. “i wasn’t trying to belittle you. i just… talk stupid when i care too much.” and he holds you until your breathing steadies.
—lee jeno
jeno is a logical-first, feelings-second kind of guy. and when you argue, you feel it more than ever. you’ll raise your concern and he’ll immediately respond with something like, “okay, but objectively—” and you want to scream. he doesn’t mean to be cold. he thinks offering solutions is being caring. but sometimes his explanations sound like he’s dismissing your feelings, even when he isn’t. when you snap, “can you stop being a robot for one second?” jeno shuts down. not angrily, just internalizing. his jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment like he’s recalibrating. when he finally speaks again, his voice is quiet, almost careful: “i’m not trying to invalidate you. i just don’t know how to handle it when you’re upset. i’m trying.” he sits next to you, hands clasped because he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. “tell me what you need from me,” he says honestly. and once you explain it, he really listens and his whole demeanor shifts. “okay,” he says softly. “i can do that. i want to do that.” his effort is clumsy but genuine… and it melts you every time.
—lee haechan
haechan jokes when he’s nervous. which is the worst combination during an argument.
you’re upset, and he keeps trying to lighten the mood, tossing out comments like, “okay grumpy, relax,” not realizing he’s pouring gasoline on fire. when you finally snap, his face falls — like he genuinely didn’t expect it. around the boys he stays composed, pretending it’s fine, but the second you’re alone, he’s unusually quiet. he keeps glancing at you, eyes softening with every second. “what did i do?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. and when you tell him he hurt your feelings, his entire expression shifts — guilt taking over everything. he moves closer, tucking himself into your space, arms wrapping around your waist from the side. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs into your shoulder. “i should’ve read the room.” he kisses your cheek, nose, temple — tiny apologies scattered across your skin. “don’t shut me out, okay? i hate when you’re upset and i can’t fix it.” and he doesn’t let go until you melt into him.
—na jaemin
jaemin gets quiet. painfully quiet. he isn’t cold, he isn’t annoyed — he’s hurt. he sits still, eyes lowered, thinking too much all at once. when you snap at him, he absorbs it silently, nodding once like he deserves it. “i didn’t know i made you feel like that,” he says softly, which somehow breaks you more. he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t defend himself. he just retreats inward, processing. you move away and he follows a few steps, not suffocating, but close enough to show he cares. “i don’t want us to fight,” he murmurs. “tell me how to fix this.” and when you do, he listens like you’re giving him sacred instructions. he reaches for your hand slowly, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “come here,” he whispers, pulling you into a slow, grounding hug. his chin rests on your head, and he holds you like he’s trying to calm both your hearts. “i’m not going anywhere,” he adds quietly. “even when we’re like this.”
—zhong chenle
chenle reacts fast. talks fast. argues fast. he’ll notice something tiny, as trivial as your mismatched socks, or your forgotten umbrella. he'll comment immediately without thinking. on a good day, you laugh it off. on a bad one, like today, it grates. when you tell him to stop nagging, he scoffs, “i’m not nagging, i’m helping,” without realizing how sharp it sounds. but the moment he notices you shivering in the cold, or your eyes watering, or your silence stretching too long — he stops mid-sentence. “wait. are you actually upset?” his voice softens in a way it rarely does. he shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around you, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “i’m sorry,” he mutters, eyes darting away shyly. “i didn’t mean to be annoying.” he holds your hand as you walk, thumb rubbing circles apologetically. “i just worry about you. too much, probably.” and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart wobble.
—park jisung
jisung panics during arguments. he hates raised voices, even slightly sharp tones. the second he feels tension, he starts stumbling over his words, eyes widening in confusion and concern. “wait—what did i do? i swear i didn’t mean—” he keeps reaching toward you and pulling back, unsure if touching you will make it worse. when you look away, his whole face crumples. “don’t… don’t be mad at me,” he says quietly, almost pleading. he sits in front of you, knees drawn in, trying so hard to understand. “just tell me,” he begs softly. “i’ll fix it, i promise.” and as soon as you explain, he exhales shakily and scoots closer, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “i’m really sorry,” he clings to you while he whispers. “i don’t want to lose you.”
Since you started working at that company, there was one name that made you shiver every time you heard it: Lee Jeno. You hadn't worked together, only exchanged a few formal greetings, but it was impossible not to hear what people were saying about him in the hallways. The comments were always made in hushed tones by your coworkers, afraid he might show up and hear everything they were saying about him:
"I heard an intern cried because she had to share a room with Jeno."
"They say a manager was fired from the company after arguing with Jeno in a meeting, and he just stood there, watching it all."
"I've been working here for two years and I've never seen him smile at anyone."
"He doesn't go to happy hour, he doesn't have lunch with the staff, he doesn't participate in anything."
"There's a rumor that he joined the company in a senior position without going through the selection process! He must definitely know some dirt on one of the bosses."
That was the image people had of him: cold, calculating, distant from everyone, and he avoided forming bonds with people as much as possible.
Until, in the middle of a meeting to present the company's new project, your boss said:
"____, Jeno, I need you two to work together on this project."
An immediate chill went through your stomach. All you did was nod and direct your gaze to your newest work partner, who was on the other side of the large table. He might be cold, but he was certainly one of the most handsome men you had ever seen: perfectly styled hair, a body hidden by a black suit that looked tailor-made, glasses resting on a perfectly sculpted nose, just like every other part of his face. He also looked at you and nodded, saying a quiet "Understood." That made you more nervous than it should have.
The meeting ended and the room quickly emptied out. You ended up staying behind, wanting to use the now-empty room to organize some pending tasks, when you felt a presence beside you. It was Jeno. "Can we align the project schedule?"
It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. "Yes. Of course. The schedule." If you could, you would have slapped yourself on the forehead.
Jeno took a chair and promptly sat down next to you, perhaps too close, because his scent invaded your senses. Although it was a woody aroma, it was comforting.
"I was thinking of dividing it into three stages: research, execution, and validation," he said in a professional manner, pointing to the notes he had taken on his laptop during the meeting, explaining each point. But your attention was on his hands: large, firm. For a fraction of a second, you wondered what it would be like to be gripped by them...
"What do you think?" he asked, bringing your attention back.
"I... I liked it.”
"Which part?"
"Uh... all of it?" Clearly, you hadn't paid attention to a single word he had just said.
He let out a short, quiet laugh. "I can explain it again if you want." Jeno was calm, patient, as if he could explain the same thing a million times.
"I'm sorry, I'm not managing to concentrate properly today."
"It's okay," he said and simply began to explain everything again in the most patient way possible.
In the following days, messing up around Jeno became something that happened almost all the time. Partly because you thought he would lose his temper with you, partly because he was too handsome up close.
One day you spilled coffee near his desk, another day you forgot to do the research he had asked for. You even mixed up his name with your best friend's. But he would always say, accompanied by a half-smile: "It's okay."
Another time, you were walking past the break room and dropped the pile of documents you were holding. "My God, what is wrong with me?" you whispered, frustrated with the whole situation.
Then, you saw a hand enter your field of vision. Jeno was crouching beside you, helping you gather all the papers scattered across the floor. He was very close, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body and his shoulder brushing against yours.
"There's nothing wrong with you." He had heard the complaint you made to yourself.
"Maybe, but I've been very nervous lately."
"Nervous around me?"
Your eyes widened in a way you didn't think was possible, and you ended up stumbling over your own words: "No... I mean, yes, maybe... I don't know..."
He observed you for a moment longer, trying to understand what you were trying to say. He simply handed you the organized pile of papers.
After spending so much time with him, you were slowly realizing that he wasn't the monster people said he was. He was always willing to help you at various points in the project. But your impression of him truly changed one night when you stayed a little later at the office and heard someone crying. When you found where the sound was coming from, you realized the person was with Jeno, who was speaking in a firm, yet soft tone of voice.
"Take a deep breath, everything will be fine."
You recognized that he was talking to a colleague from the finance department who had probably made a mistake at work.
"I messed up everything and missed the deadline. They're going to fire me!" she said between sobs.
"No, they won't. I'll help you," he said calmly.
"But you're still so busy with work."
"It's not a problem. I'll help you."
And he did. He explained, helped and kept your colleague calm the whole time. It was then that you realized everyone was wrong about Jeno. Your heart began to fill with something you didn't understand, but it was very comforting.
After that moment, your relationship with Jeno gradually changed, as if you were starting to feel more comfortable around him.
He noticed it.
From then on, he always brought you a coffee before starting work, organized the files to "make your job easier," and even made "jokes" to lighten the mood, making you laugh because they were so bad.
One night when you both stayed a little late, it was raining and you had forgotten your umbrella. Jeno looked at the rain, then looked at you.
"I'll drive you home." He wasn't asking. He was just saying he would take you home.
"You don't have to, I live nearby."
"But you might catch a cold, and I don't want that to happen." Seeing that Jeno cared about you made your heart skip a beat.
You walked to his car, sharing the small space of the umbrella. Upon reaching the car, Jeno opened the passenger door for you to get in, and then took his place behind the wheel.
Indeed, you lived very close, so the drive was quick and quiet.
"We arrived! Thank you so much—" You were about to get out of the car, but Jeno was faster: he rushed to open the door for you and already had the umbrella open to guide you to the door of your small house.
"You didn't have to do all that."
"It's no trouble at all."
Jeno stopped in front of the door, still holding the umbrella above the two of you. You twirled the keys between your fingers, a little nervous:
"Jeno..." You called him before he could say goodbye and leave.
"Hmm?" He tilted his head slightly, as he always did when you spoke. If you weren't so nervous, you would have said he looked like a lost puppy, but you just swallowed hard.
"Can I ask you something?" He just nodded his head, and you asked: "Why are you so kind to me?"
He furrowed his eyebrows slightly. He didn't seem offended, just confused by the sudden question. "Kind?"
"Yes... kind." You gave an awkward laugh, trying to make the situation a little lighter. "I always heard you were cold, that you didn't like to socialize with people at the company. I confess that, at the beginning of the project, I was a little scared, that's why I was so nervous and messed up all the time." You laughed again, looking away. You wouldn't be able to handle seeing the confused expression Jeno was making at that moment.
His gaze softened. He began to understand the reason for your nervousness, but one part of your speech caught him: "You were scared of me?"
"Not exactly scared of you, but I was afraid you'd hate me..." You sighed, but before he could answer, you completed. "But as time pass by, I realized I was completely wrong. That there was no reason to be afraid of you."
Your eyes returned to his, which were looking at you intensely. Then, he smiled, relieved.
"I'm happy to hear that, because I would never hate you." Your stomach flipped, your hands started to sweat. "I was the one who was afraid that you would have the same view of me that everyone else does."
It took your brain a whole second to process what he was saying. Lee Jeno was afraid of what you thought of him? "But, why?"
For the first time, you saw a totally nervous Jeno, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, trying to calm down somehow. After a few seconds, which seemed eternal, he told you: "Because I like you a lot."
Everything seemed to stop. The rain, the cars, any sound on the street. There was only you and Jeno. It was his turn to let out an awkward little laugh. "I know... I'm not very good at this. I've liked you since the beginning of the project... I mean, even earlier. I just didn't know how to approach you without making you uncomfortable."
Your heart was beating so fast that you were afraid he could hear it, but even so, you moved even closer to him, as if that were possible.
"You never made me uncomfortable, but I thought you were just being polite."
Jeno didn't answer, he just touched your cheek, as if that touch could convey all the affection he felt for you. You didn't pull away or ask him to stop at any point, you just smiled. Jeno understood that this was a signal, but even so, polite as always, he decided to ask you.
"May I?"
You couldn't seem to answer, you just confirmed by looking at his lips. Jeno got the message. The space between you slowly closed, your breaths mingled, and slowly, Jeno touched his lips to yours, in a calm, almost shy kiss, but warm enough to make your hearts race at an inexplicable rhythm.
When you felt him starting to pull away, you held him by the collar of his overcoat, pulling him back for a second kiss, more intense, to the point where Jeno dropped the umbrella without noticing and took hold of your waist. Jeno's warm touch contrasted perfectly with the cold wind caused by the rain.
When you separated, you remained with your foreheads touching and in an intense exchange of glances. You smiled and broke the silence. "It looks like it's not raining anymore, huh?"
Jeno smiled, finally realizing that the rain had stopped. For the first time, you saw Jeno smile openly, very different from the contained smiles he used to give, which you already found beautiful.
"Are you still scared?"
You chuckled softly, feeling your face warm. "I'm not scared, because I realized I've liked you for a while now."
Jeno's eyes sparkled, truly happy to have heard that. "So, can I kiss you again?"
Once again, you didn't answer. You just opened the door, took Jeno's hand, and pulled him inside the house while joining your lips in another kiss.
an: this is definitely longer than i had planned…oopsie? if you’ve been here for a while, you should know this is a concept i’ve been wanting to write for jisung :3 and i finally did it! have fun! <33 hey alexa play when did you get hot by sabrina carpenter and shoutout to rosé for her funny dating story — with love, c.
warnings: noona kink. down bad jisung. smut! fingering. sex while frozen plays in the background. jisung has a big dick! (you all should know that’s the only way i will ever write him)
synopsis [MUST READ]:
park jisung. synonym. dongsaeng. little brother. the same boy who debuted a year after you, wide-eyed and timid, singing about chewing gum and wobbling around on hoverboards.
in truth, he was only two years younger. practically nothing. but in south korea’s ridiculous age system, two years felt like five. enough to draw a line. enough to keep him safely, permanently filed away as just your dongsaeng. so when your friend, mark lee, bless his soul, invites you to the dream show 4, you didn’t think twice. you went expecting nostalgia, pride, maybe a fond smile at how much they’d grown. you never expected for the word noona to sound so dangerous, inviting, and utterly, unfairly…hot?
this wasn’t the jisung you remembered. this was someone taller, broader, shoulders filling out a stage like he’d always belonged there. his voice no longer cracked with youth. instead, it wrapped around the crowd with intention, confidence, hunger. and when his eyes found the camera — something shifted. almost like he was looking straight at you. inviting you. challenging you. those dark eyes focused and wicked.
sweet, innocent, cute jisung — your dongsaeng — was gone.
and park jisung. synonym. a man with purpose. is ready to win over his long-time crush. to prove, once and for all, that he was never just a little kid.
🎬
the bass is still pounding in your ears when you slip backstage. the hallway smells like sweat, metal and adrenaline. staff rush past with clipboards and water bottles, voices overlapping, laughter spilling loose now that another successful show is over.
the door to the dream’s waiting room is half open. inside, the boys are scattered — collapsed on couches, riding that euphoric post-concert high. mark is the first to notice you.
“bro, no way,” he grins, already pushing himself up, “you actually came!” there’s something a little too pleased in his grin as he pulls you into a hug.
“of course i came,” you say, “you practically guilt tripped me.” mark just hums, innocent in a way that absolutely is not. voices overlap — greetings, teasing, someone offering you a water bottle. and then—
“noona.”
it’s quiet. not shouted. not playful. just…said.
you turn and there he is — jisung. standing near the back, towel draped low around his neck, chest still rising from exertion. his stage outfit clings in a way that feels unfair, like its asking a question you don’t have a safe answer for. his hair is pushed back, exposing his forehead, his eyes darker than you remember.
you blink, disoriented. when did that happen?
he smiles when he sees you, soft, familiar, but there’s something else underneath it. something sharper. more aware. his gaze drags, unhurried, like he’s memorizing you.
“did you—” he stops, breath hitching for just a second, “did you like the show?”
“you were incredible,” you say, forcing a smile on your face, hoping the boys couldn’t hear your racing heartbeat.
“don’t you know,” haechan’s voice pops up, smug, “our little jisungie here is all grown up,” he teases, patting the maknae on the back. his words hang in the air, earning a few chuckles from the others.
jisung shoots him a glare, a flush creeping up his neck that he tries to hide by rubbing the towel over his damp hair.
“yeahhh,” jaemin chimes in, lounging against the arm of the couch with a mischievous glint in his eye, “he’s far from the boy who admitted he had a crush on you during that one interview,” he continues, eyes sparkling, looking around the room, “do you guys remember that? jisungie was soooo cute then,” he teases in his baby voice.
the boys all glance at each other, all recalling that time a couple of years ago when they were all asked about their “ideal types.” somehow, they tricked their youngest into giving a proper answer meanwhile they were naming people like stephen curry and justin bieber.
chenle smirks from his spot on the chair, “oh! i remember, ‘y/n sunbaenim is really really pretty,’” he mimics in a high-pitched voice, drawing out the words with exaggerated innocence that has renjun snickering beside him.
renjun nods enthusiastically, scrolling through his phone but glancing up with a grin, “and don’t forget how quiet he got every time we ran into each other in music shows. mark hyung had to snap him out of it more times than i can count,” he shoots mark a playful look, who’s trying, and failing, to keep a straight face.
mark laughs lightly but knowing, “hey, cut the kid some slack. crushes hit hard at that age,” he gives jisung a firm pat on the shoulder, the gesture supportive but his eyes flick to you with a subtle wink that speaks volumes.
jisung groans, burying his face in the towel for a second before peeking out, his cheeks still warm, “hyungs, seriously? can we not do this right now?” his voice is half-protest, half laughter, but when his gaze meets yours, there’s a spark there — defiant, almost challenging, like he’s daring you to add on to the teasing.
to figure out what happens if you do.
jeno saves him then, already heading toward the door, “alright, i think they’re calling us…for that…thing…we should go,” he says. talk about mr. captain obvious.
the group starts to move, gathering jackets and water bottles amidst murmurs of agreement. jaemin stands, stretching with a lazy grin, “great seeing you again. don’t be a stranger,” he nods at you before clapping jisung on the way out.
renjun and chenle follow, the older of the two tossing a soft, “take care” over his shoulder.
mark lingers for a moment, squeezing your arm gently, “thanks for coming, it means a lot.” then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind the last of them.
the room falls into a sudden, electric quiet, the distant hum of the backstage chaos muffled outside. you quip a brow, a smile growing on your face as you look at the boy who is now a couple feet taller than you.
“shouldn’t you go with them?”
“i’m sure they can manage a couple tiktoks without me,” he chuckles and you can’t help but notice how deep his voice actually is now.
“sorry about them,” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips, “they never let anything go.”
you chuckle, stepping closer, proving to him yourself that you were not affected by his drastic glow up.
“sooo…you didn’t have a crush on me?,” you say, clearly teasing him as your eyes sparkled with mischief.
and god, he doesn’t know what annoys him more — that damn interview or the fact that you still look at him like he was a boy.
“noona,” he warns, a quiet heat in his voice.
you continue stepping towards him, refusing to back down, “i remember that interview,” you say, standing closer now, as you grabbed the towel hung around his neck, “and the boys were right…you were just the cutest thing in the world!”
you bring the towel up to his hair, ignoring the fact that you were on your tippy toes to reach him.
jisung’s breath hitches, his body going still under your touch as you ruffled the towel through his damp strands. his eyes never leave yours — dark, intense, pinning you in place, shifting the air.
he easily towers over you, the heat radiating from his skin mixing with the faint scent of his sweat and cologne, something woodsy and sharp that makes your pulse quicken despite yourself.
then he reached up, his hand wrapping around your wrist, holding you there, firm enough to feel the strength in his fingers.
“cute?” he echoes, his voice dropping lower, rougher. the word comes out laced with challenge, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist in a slow, deliberate stroke that sends a jolt straight to you, “is that what you still think i am?”
you swallow, the playful tease in your chest twisting into something hotter, more urgent, as his grip tightens just a fraction. your fingers loosen on the towel, but you don’t step back, the proximity making your breasts brush against his chest with every shallow breath.
you want to reply, but it feels like the cat’s got your tongue, his stare pinning you in place, in a trance — all that’s left is the dark pools of his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, the warmth of his touch on your wrist. words dissolve before they can escape, lost in the heat.
then he steps closer, impossibly close now, bringing his head down to your level, “noona,” his eyes flick down to your lips. once. twice. “you okay?”
he’s teasing you. his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you, laced with quiet heat. his breath fans across your skin, warm and minty, sending shivers down your spine.
you can’t help but let your eyes dart down to his lips – full, slightly parted, glistening pink. they curve into a knowing smirk, his face inching closer and closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing, lips brushing the barest whisper against his, hearts pounding in unison, the pull magnetic and inevitable.
and then—
the door bursts open and his manager strides in, phone in hand, oblivious at first, “jisung-ah, we need to—oh.” the words trail off as he takes in the scenes, eyes widening.
you two spring apart quickly, the sudden separation like ripping velcro, your cheeks burning as you smooth down your shirt and step back toward the makeup table.
jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, his ears flushing red, “hyung, yeah—i’ll be right there,” he mutters, voice steadier than he looks, shooting you a quick, loaded glance, promise and frustration tangled in his gaze.
his manager heads out the door without another word, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway.
jisung turns his attention back you.
and in three quick steps…
one.
two.
three.
he’s in front of you again, closing the distance with a quiet determination that makes your breath catch. his hand rises gently to your jaw, fingers warm and steady against your skin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. those dark eyes hold yours for a beat, soft yet unwavering and before you could process what’s happening, he leans in and kisses you — sweetly, tenderly, hotly?
his lips brush yours with careful pressure that blooms into something deeper, mouth moving against yours in a slow, lingering exploration that tasted of cherry chapstick and a hint of mint.
you kiss back for only a fraction of a second, your body igniting under the sudden touch, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. but he pulls away just as abrupt, his hand lingering on your jaw for a moment longer before sliding away, leaving your lips tingling and swollen.
a small, genuine smile curve in the corners of his lips — adoration, satisfaction, confidence — like he’s finally won a round in this game.
but you can tell he’s shy from the way his ears flush bright pink, betraying the flutter beneath his composed exterior.
“thanks for coming to the show, noona,” he murmurs, voice low and sincere, his eyes still locked on yours with that quiet promise. then he’s gone, striding out the door without looking back, the click of it shutting echoing in the empty room.
you’re left there, bewildered, leaning against the makeup table for support as your heart races wildly in your chest, pounding like a drum. the ghost of his kiss lingers on your lips, hot and sweet, your pulse quickening with the certainty that this is far from over.
🎬
“—and he just kissed me,” you say, recalling the events of yesterday, your voice a mix of disbelief and lingering thrill.
you’re in the dance studio with xian, one of your group members, the mirrors reflecting your exhausted but energized forms as you ran through the brand new choreography for your upcoming group comeback. sweat beads on your forehead and your muscles ache from the intense practice, but your mind is elsewhere – replaying that backstage moment on a loop.
“WHAT?!” xian’s eyes widen like saucers, her ponytail swinging as she turned to face you, water bottle nearly slipping from her grip, “what do you mean he kissed you?!”
“i mean he put his lips on my lips and he kissed me,” you shrug, the words tumbling out.
“what the hell?! park jisung?? little jisungie who couldn’t even look you in the eyes last year?” she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, the rest of the group too busy chatting and stretching to pay attention.
“he’s not so little anymore…” you point out, still trying to comprehend it all — the memory of his large hand on your jaw, the way he tilted your head, fingertips on your pulse point — the kiss.
“he–he’s different now…he’s so….,” you trail off, biting your lip as you think of the right word to describe it.
“so….?” xian prompts, her eyebrows shooting up.
“hot?” you say finally, the voiced out admission slipping out with a flush creeping up your cheeks.
it’s true — jisung’s grown into a man. all lean muscle and quiet intensity. admitting it out loud makes your stomach flip, like butterflies turning into something hotter, more insistent
xian catches the shift in your expression and smirks, “isn’t their comeback next week too? we’ll probably be bumping into them all week,” she points out.
“and?” you shoot back, trying to sound casual even as your pulse quickens at the idea of seeing him again.
she arches a brow, her grin turning wicked, “and… what’re you gonna do about it? nothing? or are you gonna corner him in a hallway and show him who’s boss?”
the suggestion hits like a spark, igniting thoughts you hadn’t dared entertain. pretend it never happened? keep playing nonchalance? ghost him entirely and let the awkwardness fester? orrrr walk up to him, grab his collar, and steal back that kiss?
no. that’s insane. too risky. too real.
“no! of course not – are you out of your mind?” you blurt, heat rising to your face as you wave her off, “i’m just gonna let it slide. it’s probably nothing but that silly crush he’s had for ages…he needed to get it out of his system, that’s all.”
“sureee,” xian drawls, her tone dripping with skepticism as she bumps your shoulder playfully. you roll your eyes, but inside, doubt swirls like the beat of the next track starting up. the rest of the group calls you back to formation and you try to push all thoughts of jisung aside.
🎬
“fuck—,” you moan into his mouth, the word slipping out hot and desperate, earning a literal whine as his response, tongue moving in rhythm with yours, tasting you with a hunger that makes your head spin.
you were a huge. fat. liar.
doing “nothing” about it was completely thrown out the window the second you spotted him across the backstage halls. that tight black shirt molding to his lean torso like it was painted on, the subtle ripple of abs underneath pulling your gaze, the veins running down his arms. and god, those biceps — he had you hooked.
a double take became a triple until he caught you staring. his dark eyes met yours, sharp and heated, a faint flush creeping up his neck that only made him look more irresistible.
and now you were here — squeezed into this dim closet, tucked away from the bustle of the venue, shelves of old scripts and tangled cables pressing in. the door clicked shut and you were on him in an instant, your back hitting the wall as he crowds close, body pinning yours.
your fingers tangle in the nape of his neck, careful not to mess up his hair too much, tugging him down as you took back what he stole — kissing him hard, all teeth and tongue, swallowing his soft whimpers like they’re yours to claim.
“noona,” he breathes against your lips, voice cracking with need as his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer, close enough so you could feel the outline in his pants.
“i—i’ve dreamt about this for so long. years. every time i saw you, i’d imagine…fuck, kissing you like this, touching you…please, please let me touch you,” his confession spills out in a rush, almost pathetic, his cheeks burning red even in the low light, ears flushed pink like the shy maknae he used to be.
the desperation, the begging, the wide eyes and flushed lips — it all just lights a fire in you. knowing he’s wanted you this badly, dreamed of you while you barely noticed, it fuels you.
you kiss him harder, savoring the way he melts into it, his mouth pliant and eager under yours.
“how about turning that dream into reality?” you murmur, nipping his bottom lip, your hand cupping his jaw to tilt his head just right, a smirk curling on your lips as you pull away for a second.
now — jisung was never religious. but in this moment, he looks like he’s just been handed the keys to his own personal heaven.
his eyes widen, breath hitching as he nods frantically, that boyish awe softening the edges of his hunger, “yes—please, please…i want to make you feel good,” he whispers, voice thick with reverence, like touching you is a privilege he’s been training his whole life for.
you guide his hand down, sliding it under the hem of your skirt, your thighs parting just enough to invite him in. his fingers brush your skin, tracing upward to the waistband of your tight safety shorts beneath.
he hesitates for a beat, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. you nod, urging him on with a soft press of your hand over his. jisung slides his hand in until he reaches your panties, slipping beneath that lace too. his fingertips graze your slick folds, a soft gasp escaping you at the first contact. your tight shorts keeping his fingers closer, adding to the pressure.
you pull him back into the kiss, lips sealing over his to muffle the sound. he responds hungrily, tongue delving deep as his finger presses along your slit, the heat of his mouth mirroring the building warmth below. you rock against his hand instinctively, needing more, while the kiss turned sloppy and urgent, breaths mingling in hot pants between licks and sucks.
“like this?” he murmurs into your mouth, voice barely above a whisper as he pushes one finger inside your pussy with a careful thrust. the intrusion is slick and welcoming, your walls clenching around him as you nod against his lips.
“just like that, jisungie,” you breathe, the pet name slipping out soft and affectionate. his free hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek while his mouth claims yours again, the kiss deepening with every slide of his finger.
he groans quietly at the feel of you griping him, so wet and tight, “you feel so good, noona.” then he’s back, kissing you fercely, his finger fucking you deeper, curling to hit that spot that mkes your hips buck.
your body starts to respond more intensely, soft moans bubbling up from your throat, you feel yourself unraveling, turning pliant under his hand, knees weakening as the pleasure continued to build.
jisung notices it immediately — the way your breaths hitch sharper, your lips no longer catching up with his, your body melting against the wall, those quiet sounds escaping despite your efforts. it sparks something in him, confidence blooming in his eyes. his thrusts grow surer, fingers pressing deeper with purpose and he pulls back just enough to watch your face, drinking in every flicker of you losing control.
“oh god,” you gasp, the word barely out before another moan slips free, soft and needy. you have to bite down hard on your lower lip to stifle the next one, your head tipping back against the wall as your pussy clenches around his fingers.
god, the sight of you like this — putty in his hands, fighting to stay quiet — it was a dream come true.
but he’s greedy. and he wants to hear more, to coax every stifled sound from you in this cramped space where footsteps echo past the door every few seconds, voice murmuring in the hall.
he adds a second finger without asking, stretching you fuller, making your hips jerk as he pumps quicker, thumb circling your clit in firm, quick strokes. his mouth finds your neck instead, lips brushing against your skin, trailing kisses down the column of your throat, his ear attuned to the way your moans try to break free — muffled whimpers that vibrate against his tongue as he sucks lightly at your pulse point, nipping just enough to draw another gasp.
“jisung—ah,” you whisper-moan, the sound ragged and desperate, your hand fisting in his shirt, desperately trying to stay grounded as you bite your lip again, teeth sinking into trap the louder cry building in your chest.
people are right outside, the risk sharpening every sensation, but he doesn’t stop, encouraged by how you’re falling apart for him, your body trembling, walls fluttering tighter around his fingers.
“i love hearing you, noona,” he hums against your neck, voice low and round with his own arousal, fingers continuing to curl just right, driving you relentlessly toward the edge. another moan escapes, softer this time but no less intoxicating to him.
the coil snaps hard and fast — your pussy spasming around his fingers as you come undone, a choked cry muffled by your bitten lip, head thrown back, eyes shut in bliss, while waves of pleasure crash through you.
jisung holds you through it, his free hand gripping your hip to steady you as your legs threaten to give, his fingers still moving to draw out every pulse, his ears catching each stifled aftershock moan like a secret just for him, his eyes taking a mental screenshot.
“fuck, noona—that’s…that’s the hottest thing i’ve ever seen,” he swears, voice hoarse and reverent, meeting your dazed eyes. he keeps his fingers buried deep a moment longer before easing them out slowly, your pussy clenching one last time around the retreating digits, slick trailing in glistening strings.
without another word, jisung brings his hand up, eyes locked on yours with a mix of mischief and raw hunger — he slides his fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling deliberately to lick every drop of your cum clean, sucking them with soft, needy hum that vibrates through the air.
your eyes widen in surprise, heat flooding your cheeks at the bold move — filthy and uncharacteristically daring from the boy who’s still got that flush on his ears.
”what?” he murmurs around his fingers, popping them free, a shy grin tugging at his lips as he sees your reaction, “i had to clean them somehow.”
a laugh bubbles out of you, light and breathless, cutting through the tension. it’s infectious, easing the urgency into something warmer and you reach for the front of his shirt, fisiting the fabric to yank him close. your lips crash into his once again, tasting yourself faintly on his tongue as you kiss him deep and slow.
“when did you get so hot, huh, park jisung?” you whisper against his mouth, the words deliberate — no pet name, no jisungie, just his full name like he’s a man now, not the kid you’ve always teased.
and it pulls him completely under your spell. his breath stutters, eyes going wide and glassy, that confident facade cracking as he unravels right there, “i-i could…do more…if you want,” he stammers, hands clutching at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
“yeah?” you tease softly, arching a brow as you smooth his shirt back down your thumb brushing his collarbone.
he nods quickly, frantically, the motion so eager it’s almost comical, his cheeks burning brighter. it’s cute. that boyish enthusiasm peeking through the heat, making your chest tighten with affection.
“i do…want that,” you affirm, voice dropping low and sure. the air between you crackles with promise.
“my place,” he blurts faster than you expect, the words tumbling out in a rush, ”come to mine tonight?”
you quirk a brow, smirking at the slip — half-invitation, half-demand.
“are you asking or are you telling me?”
he swallows hard, forcing that confidence back into place, jaw setting as he meets your gaze head-on, “i’m telling you, noona. come to mine tonight.”
a smile curve your lips, genuine and approving, “the right choice. text me your address,” you instruct, leaning in for one final kiss, soft, lingering, a seal on the deal.
then you slip away, cracking the door just enough to peek out before darting into the hallway, heart pounding like you’ve just run a marathon, the ache between your thighs a lingering thrill.
xian’s lounging against the wall nearby, scrolling on her phone, but her head snaps up the second you emerge. her eyes narrow playfully, scanning your flushed face and slightly mussed hair, before she flashes a knowing thumbs-up, lips twitching in a suppressed grin.
you mouth a quick “shut up,” playing it cool, smoothing your expression into casual nonchalance. she just chuckles silently, falling into step beside you as you both weave through the backstage chaos toward the stage entrance for the ending segment.
the mc’s voice booms over the speakers, calling out the nominated artists for the week. you stand shoulder to shoulder with your group members, lights blinding as the cameras pan slowly, capturing every polished smile and wave, the sea of lightsticks waving in synchronized frenzy below.
jisung is a few people away, flanked by his members, his posture straight and idol-perfect, that practiced smile plastered on as he waves to fans with the same hand that was inside you just minutes ago.
you catch it — the subtle flick of his eyes toward you, that idol smile turning into a smirk only you know the meaning of. a secret heat simmering beneath the professional facade.
the applause thunders on, spotlights dancing and to everyone who was watching — you two were nothing but perfect idols.
🎬
your heart races with a mix of nerves and mischief, the baggy floral pants swishing around your legs, paired with a crisp white long-sleeve and topped by a sensible vest that screams ahjumma. you’d gone all out. even adding a curly wig and a sturdy handbag dangling from your shoulder like you’re off to the market.
as idols, relationships are “off-limits.” you just have to be good enough to hide it. and this get-up ensures just that. no prying eyes from fans, no suspicious glances, no whispered rumors.
you ring the doorbell. footsteps hurry closer and it creaks open. jisung’s there in gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black shirt that clings to his lean chest, fresh from a shower with damp hair.
his eyes widen, gaze sweeping over you, from the vest to the ridiculous colorful pants, and he bursts out laughing, bending at the waist as if you just told him the funniest joke ever.
“noona,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach, “i’m into older women…but not this old,” his face is flushed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he straightens up just enough to let you inside.
you enter his place, kicking off your flats with a grin, the cool apartment air hitting your skin.
“what? is this not doing it for you?” you tease, adjusting the wig with exaggerated flair and striking a pose, hands on hips like a scolding elder, “not activating your ahjumma kink?”
that sets him off again, his laughter booming as he leans against his shut door, “oh my god, noona stop— it’s too much.”
you match his laugh, reaching up to yank the wig free in one swift motion, tossing it at him like a playful challenge. it lands in his hands, the curly mess dangling from his fingers as your real hair tumbles down, framing your face perfectly.
his chuckles die out instantly, the sound fading into a sharp intake of breath. the air thickens charged with something heavier and he pushes off the door, closing the distance between you in two strides. his free hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw as he stares, eyes dark and intense.
“i can’t believe you’re actually here,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, the words laced with awe and hunger.
your hand slides up his arm and you tilt your head to meet his gaze, “hmm and now that you got me here, what do you suppose we do?” the teasing edge lingers in your tone, soft, inviting, as you lean in to brush your lips against his.
he smirks against your lips, before pulling away slightly, “we could watch a movie?”
“that’s it?”
“and we could make out a little,” he says, his hand dropping from your jaw to your waist.
“just a little?”
“or a lot,” he says, pulling you closer, fingers flexing like he’s already forgotten his own suggestion about movies.
for a second, you think he’s going to abandon the idea entirely, his lips hovering just above yours, breath ghosting over your skin.
and then.
he pulls back. clearing his throat like he needs to reset his brain, “c’mon, let’s watch that movie.”
there’s no way.
there’s actually no way you’ve gone through all of this to watch a movie.
but before you can protest, he takes your hand and leads you deeper into his apartment. you toss your handbag on the floor, following him into his living room. the t.v. is already on as he unpauses it. bright snow. dramatic orchestral music. you stare at the screen.
“is this–”
“don’t judge me,” he says quickly, dropping onto the couch, “it’s a classic.”
anna and elsa appear mid-argument, voices echoing through the speakers.
there’s no way he was going to fuck you while frozen plays in the background…right?
you turn slowly to look at him. he’s already settled in, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, looking absurdly domestic. comfortable. like this was the plan all along. you slowly sit beside him, hyperaware of everything — the heat radiating from him, the faint scent of his shampoo, the way his fingers absentmindedly tap against the couch cushion near your shoulder.
on screen, anna is dramatically belting something about love. your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason. you sneak a glance at him. he’s watching intently. actually watching. eyes focused. brows slightly knit. fully invested in the animation.
you narrow your eyes.
what kind of sick foreplay is this?
you are so insanely turned on right now. the memory of his fingers curling inside you replaying in your mind. and he’s just sitting there. calm. composed. watching.
is he serious?!?
you shift slightly, letting your knee brush his thigh. nothing. he doesn’t even look at you.
“wow,” he mutters, softly at the screen, “that song is so good.”
you stare at him.
you lean back, pretending to get comfortable, but really you’re eyeing him from the corner of your eye. the curve of his jaw. the way his lips part when he concentrates. the faint rise and fall of his chest. he senses it. without turning his head, he smirks.
“you’re staring.”
“i’m not.”
“you are,” he says calmly, still looking at the tv, “you’ve been starting at me for the past 45 seconds.”
your face heats. he was counting?
his arm slides down from the back of the couch to rest behind you, fingers grazing your shoulder lightly. barely there. it’s subtle. too subtle. your pulse jumps anyway.
“you’re evil,” you whisper.
“for watching a movie?”
“for pretending you’re not aware of what you’re doing.”
on screen, anna dramatically falls into han’s arms.
jisung leans closer to you, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, “i’m very aware.” your breath catches.
“but,” he continues, “i also really like this part.”
you gape at him. he laughs softly, the sound low and teasing, before finally giving in just a little. his hand slides from your shoulder to your waist, thumb drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your shirt.
“i’ve waited years for this noona…i don’t want it to be over just yet,” he says quietly.
your eyes narrow, “are you implying that this is a one-time thing?”
he turns to look at you then.
finally.
“is it not? just noona granting her poor little dongsaeng’s pathetic wishes?”
the words hang between you, laced with that familiar mix of playfulness and something deeper, more vulnerable.
his eyes search yours, the t.v.’s glow casting flickering shadows across his face, making the moment feel even more intimate in the dim room.
you shift closer, “pathetic wishes?” you echo, voice low, eyebrows furrowed, “do you really think i would’ve gone through all that effort to be here if i didn’t want you?”
his hand at your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his side, “yeah?” he murmurs, his free hand capturing yours, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss against your knuckles. it’s sweet, almost boyish, but the heat in his gaze tells you he's anything but innocent.
“then tell me, noona. what do you want this to be?” the air thickens, charged with the unspoken promise of more.
you lean in, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “not a one-time thing. not if you keep looking at me like that.”
his ears flush pink, that telltale sign of his shyness peeking through the confidence he's built, and it only makes you bolder. you nip at his earlobe, feeling him shiver, his arm wrapping fully around you now, hand splaying across your lower back.
the movie drones on — kristoff and anna's banter filling the speakers — but jisung can no longer pretend to care.
he turns his head, capturing your mouth in a kiss, slower, deep, his tongue sliding against yours with deliberate strokes. you melt into it, your body arching toward him. his hand ventures lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the skin of your stomach.
“fuck this movie,” you breathe against his lips when you break for air, the words spilling out rough and demanding.
no more teasing, no more waiting.
you swing a leg over his lap in one fluid motion, straddling him fully, your knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his hips. his hands instinctively grip your thighs, but you grab his chin, tilting his face up to meet your eyes.
“eyes on me, jisung. only me.”
he swallows hard, pupils blown wide, but he nods, gaze locked on yours as you crash your mouth back to his. the kiss is messy this time, urgent — teeth clashing, tongues tangling, your fingers threading through his hair to pull him closer.
he groans into it, the vibration rumbling through your chest, his hips bucking up slightly to press his hardness against your core through the layers of fabric. you rock against him once, twice, savoring the friction, but you want more. control surges through you, hot and heady, as you dominate the rhythm of the kiss, nipping his lower lip until he whimpers softly.
his hands roam up your sides, fumbling with the buttons of your vest in haste. he shrugs it off your shoulders, letting it slide to the floor with a soft thud. you break the kiss just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, leaving you in the white lacy bra you'd chosen specifically for this — for him. the delicate fabric clings to your curves, sheer enough to tease the outline of your nipples, already pebbled from his earlier touches.
jisung's breath stutters, his eyes raking over you like he's memorizing every inch.
“god, you're beautiful,” he rasps, voice thick with awe, before his mouth descends.
he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck, sucking lightly at the pulse point, making you gasp, then trails lower to your collarbone, licking and nipping the sensitive skin there.
his hand slide up fingers hooking into the bra's cups, tugging them down without unhooking the straps. the lace bunches under your breasts, exposing them fully to the cool air of the room — and to him.
he doesn't hesitate, leaning in to capture one nipple between his lips, sucking hard while his tongue flicks over the peak. you arch into it, a sharp moan escaping as pleasure shoots straight to your pussy, making you clench around nothing.
he switches sides, lavishing the other tit with the same attention — suck, swirl, graze with his teeth — drawing out your whines. your hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging in as you grind down against his clothed cock, feeling it throb insistently through his sweatpants, the heat of him searing against your damp panties.
the friction isn't enough, you need to feel him, all of him. your fingers dip into the waistband of his sweats, shoving them down just enough to free his length. you wrap your hand around his cock, squeezing the thick base, and your eyes widen at the size — bigger than you'd imagined, hot and heavy in your palm, veins pulsing under your grip.
he bucks into your touch with a choked groan, his mouth popping off your breast to bury his face in your neck, panting hot breaths against your skin.
“fuck,” he whimpers, hips jerking as you stroke him slowly, thumb swiping over the slick tip.
he thrusts up into your hand, desperate now, his control fraying under your command, “please,” he murmurs against your mouth, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, “—want you so bad. been dreaming of this.”
you quicken your strokes, twisting your wrist at the head, watching his face contort in ecstasy — eyes squeezed shut, lips parted on a silent moan.
but you tap his cheek lightly, reminding him, “eyes on me, remember?”
he forces them open, locking onto yours, the vulnerability there making your heart — and your pussy — clench.
“good boy,” you whisper, leaning in to suck a mark into his jaw.
the tension builds, his cock leaking pre-cum over your fingers, your body aching to take him inside, but you draw it out just a little longer, savoring the power, the way he trembles beneath you.
the outside world, the movie — none of it matters. just this, just him, unraveling under your touch.
jisung’s chest heaves as you continue to pump him up and down, his cock slick with pre-cum, fingers digging into your hips as he fights control. but the strain shows in the way his jaw clenches.
you lean down, capturing his mouth in another bruising kiss, swallowing his moans while you start grinding your soaked core against his thigh. his hands immediately slide to the waistband of your floral pants, tugging it down.
“off,” he mutters, voice rough and commanding, the shyness giving way to raw hunger. you lift your hips just enough for him to yank them down, the fabric pooling at your knees befre he shoves them aside completely.
his gaze drops to your panties — matching white lace, sheer and clinging to your folds, the material darkened with how wet you are. a low growl rumbles from his throat as he stares — you really did plan all this out, coming to him in a matching set.
he still couldn’t believe it.
“fuck, noona…you’re soaking for me,” his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider over his lap, thumbs brushing the edge of the lace. the sight undoes him — his cock twitching in your hand and he surges up, mouth latching onto your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, “so hot. can’t believe you’re here like this, all for me.”
his fingers hook into the sides of your panties and with a frustrated snarl, he rips them – the threads snapping as he tears the fabric apart.
cool air hits your exposed pussy, your slick folds bare and dripping onto his sweatpants. you gasp at the suddennes, the possessivness of it sending a fresh wave of heat through you, your clit pulisng with want.
“jisung–c-condom,” you say through breathy moans. his eyes flick to the side table drawer without pulling away from you, leaning over awkwardly with one arm still banded around your waist to keep you close, yanking the drawer open and snatching a foil. you watch, breath hitching as he tears it with his teeth, the latex unrolling down his thick shaft in quick, efficient strokes.
“and here i thought we really were just gonna watch frozen,” you tease, an amused smile on your lips.
jisung chuckles darkly, tossing the wrapper aside, “yeah, fuck that. i should’ve fucked you the moment you walked in the door,” he positions himself, dragging his head through your dripping slit, bumping your swollen clit, earning a light moan from you.
“bad jisung, making noona wait,” you retort, reaching down to line him at your entrance.
you don’t hesitate, sinking down slowly onto him. the stretch is immediate, intense — his cock splitting you open, walls stretching to accommodate every inch as you take him deeper.
“fuck, jisung–you’re so big,” you moan, the words spilling out as you bottomed out, your ass flush against his thighs, the fullness making your vision blur.
he groans, head falling back against the couch, hands clamping onto your waist like anchors. you start to move, rolling your hips in a slow grind at first, savoring the way he fills you completely, the drag of him against your walls sending sparks up your spine.
the movie is white noise now, drowned out by the wet sounds of your bodies connecting, your slick coating the latex as you ride him.
jisung’s eyes stay glued to where you’re joined, watching his length disappear into you over and over, his breaths coming in ragged pants. he thrusts up to meet you, the force jolting through you, but you set the pace, hands braced on his chest, nails digging into the firm muscle there.
sweat beads on his skin, his shirt clinging and you lean forward, capturing his lips in a messy kiss as you bounce harder. your clit grinds against his pelvis with each slide, pleasure coiling tight in your core, but the angle tires your thighs after a few minutes, your movements slowing just a fraction. he notices it immediately.
“i got you, noona,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice husky and laced with lust, “gonna make you feel good.”
he surges up, wrapping an arm around your back and flipping your positions in one fluid, powerful move. now you’re beneath him, legs splayed wide, his body caging yours as he settles between your thighs. the shift presses him even deeper, the new angle hitting that spot inside that makes you cry out, arching up to meet him.
he starts thrusting immediately, deep, measured strokes that have you seeing white, building that steady pressure in your core, his body pinning you down.
your fingers hook into the hem of his shirt, finally tugging it upward. he pauses mid-thrust, lifting his arms to help you yank it off over his head, revealing his bare chest.
your eyes drop immediately to his abs — defined ridges of muscle flexing with each breath. they’re sculpted, earned from endless hours of training and performance, and the sight hits you like a spark, making your pussy tighten around him involuntarily.
“when did you get these?” you murmur, voice breathy as you trail your nails down the planes of his stomach, feeling them contract under your touch. he fucks into you again, deep and slow, the motion making his abs tense further.
jisung smirks down at you, eyes hooded with lust, but there’s a playful glint there too, “always had them, you just weren’t looking,” he teases, his voice low and rough, punctuating the words with another measured thrust that has you gasping.
you roll your eyes at his cockiness, hooking a hand around his neck to pull him down, whispering “faster,” before crashing your lips onto his for another heated kiss.
he doesn’t hesitate, adjusting his grip on your hips and picking up the pace, his thrusts turning sharper, harder, slamming into you with a rhythm that rocks the couch beneath you, the friction intense, hitting deeper with every forceful drive.
jisung pulls back from the kiss after a moment, his focus shifting entirely to the motion of his hips, breaths coming in hot pants against your ear. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as soft whines escape him — high and needy, mixing with deeper grunts each time he bottoms out.
“fuck, noona….so good,” he whimpers, voice cracking with the effort to hold back, his body trembling slightly above you. sweat drips from his brow onto your collarbone and you can feel the strain in him, the way his muscles lock as he fights his release, determined to push you over the edge first.
every thrust targets your pleasure, his hips angling just right to drag over your g-spot, the head of his cock nudging it relentlessly. your legs wrap tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back to urge him on, and the coil in your core winds impossibly tighter, heat building to a fever pitch.
jisung's whines grow more desperate by your ear, a mix of “please...cum for me” and breathless grunts.
his determination is clear — he wants to prove it, show you he's no longer the shy kid, but a man who can take care of you, make you shatter around him before he lets go.
your walls clench around him tighter, the slick heat building to an unbearable peak as his pace quickens even more, balls slapping against your ass with every forceful entry.
he leans in close, his mouth hot against your ear, breaths ragged and uneven, “c’mon noona... let go,” he murmurs between grunts, his voice strained with effort.
one hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing firm circles over the swollen nub, the added pressure pushing you right to the brink. your back arches off the couch, nails digging into his shoulders as the orgasm crashes over you, pussy fluttering wildly around his length, waves of ecstasy pulsing from your core outward. your juices flood his cock, soaking the condom and dripping down to the cushions below, thighs quivering from the intensity.
jisung groans deeply at the feel of you coming undone, his thrusts faltering for a split second as your tightness nearly undoes him. but he holds on, slowing just enough to ride out your climax, his fingers still teasing your clit lightly to draw it out longer.
“fuck, yes... so fucking hot,” he pants, watching your face contort in bliss, pride flashing in his eyes — he did it, made you shatter first.
as your tremors subside, leaving you boneless and gasping beneath him, jisung's restraint snaps. he picks up speed again, fucking into your oversensitive pussy with short, desperate strokes, chasing his own release, guttural moans escaping his lips, body tensing as he buries himself deep one last time. his cock throbs inside you, pulsing as he cums hard, filling the condom with hot spurts. he collapses forward slightly, forehead pressed to yours, hips jerking erratically until he's spent, a satisfied shudder running through him.
for a moment, you both stay like that, breaths mingling in the quiet room, the movie still playing in the background.
jisung lifts his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, but it's clear he's beaming inside — his eyes crinkling at the corners, that boyish glow he can't quite hide, even as he tries to play it cool.
you're his dream girl, after all.
and the way his chest rises and falls a little too quickly gives him away.
“that was better than anything i could imagine,” he says softly, voice hoarse, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.
“well, now you don’t have to imagine,” you say, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back as you hold his gaze, the warmth in your chest making your words come out steady and sincere, “i was serious, you know? i don’t want this to be a one-time thing… unless that’s what you want.”
jisung's eyes search yours, that familiar flicker of surprise and something deeper — maybe hope — lighting up his features. he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow while his other hand rests lightly on your hip, thumb stroking the skin there in slow, soothing motions.
he's trying so hard to act cooler, but the beaming smile tugs at his lips, his cheeks flushing just a bit as he fights to keep his excitement reined in.
“no,” he murmurs quickly, shaking his head as if the idea alone is ridiculous, “god, no. that's the last thing i want. i've been imagining this — us — for months. years. but hearing you say that...it makes it real.”
you smile, reaching up to tuck a damp strand of his hair behind his ear, your touch lingering as you pull him down for another kiss, this one deeper but still tender, tongues brushing lazily.
when you break apart, you whisper against his lips, “good. because i like you — like, really like you. so start believing it, okay?”
“i believe you,” he says, voice muffled but excited, almost shy, the beaming energy seeping through despite his efforts to tone it down.
he exhales a shaky laugh, burying his face in the curve of your neck for a second, his warm breath tickling your skin as he presses a series of soft kisses along your collarbone.
you tilt your head, a playful glint in your eye as your fingers trail up his arm, tracing the lean muscle there.
“now,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, laced with that warmth from before, “you want to show me what else you've imagined us doing?”
his reaction is instant — a smirk curls his mouth, slow and knowing, chasing away any remnants of shyness. those dark eyes heat up, locking onto yours with confidence.
without a word, he shifts, sliding his arms under you in one fluid motion, scooping you up bridal style like you weigh nothing. your legs dangle over his arm, and you can't help the surprised laugh that bubbles out as he stands, cradling you against his chest.
“bedroom,” he says simply, his voice a rough whisper against your ear, that smirk still playing on his lips
🎬
three days slips by in a blur of schedules and stolen texts — late-night messages that make you smile at your phone.
but today, the music show buzzes with energy, your group weaving through the backstage chaos, outfits sparkling under the lights. nct dream's here too, their laughter echoing from down the hall as you prepare for your silly mini segment with stray kids' bang chan.
it’s all lighthearted fun, the concept scripted — you batting your lashes, calling him “oppa” in that exaggerated, cute tone that has the crew chuckling.
chan plays along perfectly, his dimpled smile wide as he hands you a single red rose, the stem wrapped in ribbon.
“for a pretty girl,” he teases, voice warm and brotherly. you take it with a giggle, then link arms for the heart pose — your hands forming the shape together, faces close enough for the cameras to catch the playful spark.
back in nct dream’s dressing room, the t.v. flickers with the live feed, the boys sprawled on couches and chairs, half-watching between touch-ups and snacks.
jisung’s there, legs kicked out, but his posture stiffens the moment your face fills the screen. he watches you lean into chan, that soft oppa slipping from your lips like honey, and something sharp twists in his chest.
his jaw clenches, teeth grinding just enough to make the muscle jump, eyes narrowing into slits as chan passes the rose. the heart pose seals it — your smiles synced, bodies angled close — and jisung's fingers dig into the armrest, knuckles whitening.
chenle, scrolling on his phone beside him, catches the shift immediately. he snickers, nudging jisung's shoulder with his elbow, “make it more obvious, won't you?”
jisung doesn't even glance away from the screen, his gaze locked on you as the segment ends, “i don't know how you do this,” he mutters, voice low and edged with frustration, finally turning to chenle.
chenle’s eyebrows raised in mock innocence, “do what?”
“date an actress,” jisung shoots back, running a hand through his hair, “i’m literally gonna crash out and it’s just a segment.”
chenle bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking as he claps jisung on the back. he shrugs, nonchalant and grinning wide, “i'm just cooler and more mature than you, jisungie.”
🎬
the show pulses on, a relentless rhythm of spotlights and applause, the corridors buzz with hurried footsteps and muffled chatter, but you navigate them with purpose, heart racing from the high and the unresolved pull toward jisung.
he’s been a ghost all day, avoiding your gaze like it's a spotlight he can't afford.
from the corner, your fingers brush his wrist, light but insistent, pulling him quickly into the familiar dim closet without a word.
the door snicks shut, sealing out the world.
jisung's back meets the wall, his eyes snapping to yours, wide, caught off guard, “noona?” he says, voice a hushed rasp, surprise threading through the warmth.
“you haven't looked at me once this whole show,” you murmur, closing the gap until your bodies nearly touch. your voice dips lower, probing, “what's wrong?”
he shifts, gaze dropping to the scuffed floor, jaw clenching in that telltale way. the jealousy from the segment with chan simmers beneath his skin, a sharp twist in his gut from watching you laugh and pose, but he shoves it down deep.
that's kid stuff. and he’s a man. a mature man.
“nothing... just being careful,” he murmurs, forcing a casual shrug.
you see the sulk anyway — the downturned lips, the furrowed brow, the way his shoulders hunch just a fraction. it’s endearing, pulling a soft smile from you as you step in closer, your palm flattening against his chest to feel the rapid thump of his heart.
“you’re cute when you lie.”
his eyes lift then, dark and conflicted, holding yours for a beat too long before he sighs, “i—i’m not lying—the cameras, the fans... everyone’s watching. don't want to cause trouble for us. that's all.”
it’s a half-truth, delivered with a shrug that doesn't quite land, his body betraying him as it leans into your touch.
“try again,” you tease gently, fingers sliding up to cup his jaw, tilting his face so he can't hide, “is it the segment? chan oppa?”
his breath catches, a flicker of admission in the way his eyes narrow, but he nods slowly, the mature mask slipping.
“kinda,” he confesses, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his hand settling at your waist, thumb on your bare skin, “stupid, i know. it’s a segment. but seeing you call him that, smile like... like that…”
he pulls you flush against him, the confession hanging heavy but freeing, “i don't want to be the jealous kid. but fuck, i hate sharing even a second of your attention.”
the closet feels smaller now, the world outside fading as you lean in, lips brushing his ear, “you’re not,” you murmur, feeling him shiver, “you're the one i pulled in here. the one I can't stop thinking about.”
the admission hangs between you, raw and real, and you close the distance, lips grazing his in a feather-light touch that ignites everything. he responds instantly, hands framing your face, deepening the kiss.
the urgency builds but so do the voices echoing down the hall — staff calling for the next lineup, footsteps approaching — and he breaks away with a frustrated groan, forehead resting against yours, breathing ragged and uneven.
his eyes, dark with want but sparkling with that boyish hope, search yours.
“come to mine again tonight?” he whispers quietly, voice laced with plea, his thumb stroking your cheek in soft, adoring circles.
you shake your head, a playful glint in your eye as you bite your lip, “no.”
“no?” he pulls back slightly, confusion flickering across his flushed face, brows knitting together in the most adorable pout, his lower lip jutting out.
“you come to mine,” you say with a smile, voice teasing and inviting, your hand sliding down his chest to rest over his racing heart.
“i'll wait for you….in your best ahjussi outfit,” you wink, eyes dripping with that knowing mischief.
he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest, a shy grin breaking through the sulk as he leans in closer, his ears turning an even brighter shade of pink.
“i’ll borrow a gray wig from the costume department,” he says, his voice light and playful, eyes crinkling, at the corners with pure delight, gummy smile and all.
you giggle, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, soft and lingering, both of you smiling into it before the outside world swallows you both back into reality.
your vision became blurry, tears threatening to spill from your eyes due to the purple led lights in the room, but mostly due to your boyfriend!jaemin giving you backshots in front of his floor-length bedroom mirror.
your hands were leaving sweaty fingerprints on the mirror as jaemin pounded you towards it, with his one hand wrapped around your neck, sqeezing it so as so you could let out those pretty squeaky moans that he liked, his other hand gripping on your waist for support.
jaemin's lustfull gaze bore into your eyes through the mirror, his lips parted slightly open because of the overstimulation, his pace rough and steady shooting bolts of pleasure through your entire body.
"look at you all fucked up, taking in my cock like the pretty little slut you are" jaemin growled in your ear as he gripped your neck and waist tighter. "do you see how good we look, baby?"
his filthy words only added to the sensation of the moment. your bodies moved in sync, creating a dance only the two of you could follow. the warmth of your velvety walls hugging jaemin perfectly, the angelic sounds coming from your throat, the sound of skin slapping on skin, your breasts bouncing with every harsh stroke he gave you, all of these only made jaemin lose himself even more, a guttural sound escaping his soft lips.
the sounds he made only made you wetter, slick dripping down your thighs. jaemin took his hand off your waist, the absence of his touch leaving a coldness in the area. the temperature inside your body rose up again when his hand grabbed your hair instead, pulling you flush against his chest.
the sweet pain of this action alone elicited a loud sensual moan from you and jaemin swore he was sent to heaven. you leaned your head back, resting it on his shoulder while you could feel his sweaty chest clinging to your back.
with every harsh stroke, your knees became weaker and your pussy wetter. the man behind you was in utter bliss feeling you clenching around him. as your moans became louder and louder and your body began trembling, jaemin whispered in your ear, sultry and provoking, his breath slowly becoming uneven too. "let go for me, baby, let it all out, come on, i know you can do this".
an: the first of the idol x idol scenarios i have up my sleeve :), except reader is an actress but it’s kinda the same right?? hehe…chenle is super super cute in this :’)
warnings: possesive! jealous! slightly insecure! chenle, and reader absolutely loves it, 18+, smut, blowjob, fingering, rough sex in the trailer
🎬
chenle liked to think he’s mastered the act of nonchalance. he was dating an actress for god’s sake.
watching his girlfriend hug someone else? whatever. kissing scenes? not a problem. sex scenes? he just won’t watch them.
at the end of the day, he knows it isn’t real. smoke and mirrors, scripted lines — it’s all just work.
he is the king of chill.
but then came the social media apocalypse. chenle scrolled through twitter, instagram, tiktok, naver — every damn app on his phone had declared war on his sanity.
apparently your chemistry with your current co-star is just absolutely phenomenal! the tension, breathtaking! there are at least fifty edits of a slowed down eye contact that proves you’re in love. hearts exploding, slow-mo sparkles, romantic background music. and the entirety of the population is absolutely convinced that it was real. as in, ‘they're banging behind the scenes’ real.
it pisses him off.
1) how come this guy gets to stare at you like that while he can’t even glance your way for two seconds without 80% of his fandom canceling him in a heartbeat? — “chenle looked at her! boycott!” tweets would fly faster than his dignity.
2) why the fuck did your co-star, lee chaemin, have to be so annoyingly attractive? the dude had cheekbones to die for and eyes that could make any girl swoon. chenle caught himself in the mirror once, trying to replicate that gaze, and ended up looking like he was constipated. pathetic.
3) did the eye contacts actually mean anything? was there some secret actress code where a lingering look equaled ‘you’re so much better than my boyfriend, let’s date instead!
of course not…right?
you were just such a great actress. he knew that from the start. but fuck, he can’t help it. the insecurity has started.
chenle slammed his phone down, running a hand through his hair, “it’s fine,” he muttered to the empty room, “totally fine. i’m chill. super chill.”
🎬
a week later and he’s still here. moping. sighing.
it’s been a rough week, too. work has kept you both on opposite schedules — your late nights on set meant you drag home exhausted long after he’s crashed and by morning, he’s already out the door for his own schedule.
the whole week has just been rushed pecks at dawn and quick goodbyes that leave him aching for more. the distance making everything feel off. no real time together, no touches that linger, just fragments that feed straight into the doubt gnawing at him from those endless online edits.
to shake it off, he decides to surprise you on set.
he spent the entire afternoon in your shared kitchen, whipping up your favorite snack, just how you like it — the thermos packed with spicy tteokboki, extra cheese, along with some mandu he steamed on the side. all made with love.
he sneaks onto the lot with a cap pulled low and a mask hiding his face, flashing his visitor pass at security.
your trailer is tucked away in a quiet corner, away from the bustle of crew and lights. he knocks softly, heart picking up when you open the door, still in your costume — a flowy dress your character seemed to always be in.
“chenle! what are you doing here?” your face lights up instantly — no hesitation, no confusion. just pure happiness. you grab his wrist and tug him inside before he can even answer, clicking the door shut and immediately throwing your arms around his neck. he barely has time to react before you’re hugging him tight, cheek pressed to his chest.
“i missed you,” you mumble into his hoodie. his arms wrap around you automatically, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, already feeling so much better.
the trailer is cozy, cluttered with scripts and makeup, the faint hum of the AC the only sound now that you’re alone.
“brought you a snack,” he says, holding up the bag, forcing his voice steady, “i haven’t been able to cook for you this whole week.”
your heart melts at that, grabbing the bag and then immediately grabbing him again — this time pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, then another to the corner of his mouth.
“you’re actually the best boyfriend in the world,” you declare, dragging him toward the mini couch without letting go of his hand. you plop down first as he took the seat across from you.
you unpack it eagerly, the spicy aroma filling the space as you dig in, eyes closing around the first bite, “mmm — this is sooo good, chenle,” you moan around the tteokbokki, cheeks puffed adorably. “exactly what i needed.”
the two of you ate in silence while you read through your script. him on his phone. just enjoying each other’s presence.
but then — the sighs start slipping out — dramatic huffs as he stares at his phone between bites. one. two. three. by the fourth, you pause, chopsticks hovering.
“okay, what’s wrong?” you say, looking up from your script after hearing your boyfriend’s fifth sigh.
“what? nothing’s wrong,” he says. a little too quickly.
“chenle. you sighed fived times. what is it? did the warriors lose or something?”
“no, the warriors won,” he mutters, forcing a casual shrug.
you set your script down, crossing your arms as you lean back, one eyebrow arched in that way that always makes his stomach flip — half amused, half ready to dismantle him.
“spill it. is it work? the boys don’t want to play basketball with you again?? or…” your voice trails off, a teasing lilt creeping in as you tilt your head, “something on your feed?”
he winces internally. of course you’d guess. you knew him better than he knew himself. there was no point in keeping it from you.
“it’s nothing, really…just stupid social media crap. people are losing their minds over you and chaemin. the chemistry and all that.”
you snort, “babe, it’s scripted. fake as a green screen explosion. you know that.”
“yeah, i know,” he says, but his voice cracks just enough to betray him. your eyes meet his, and damn it, it’s the same intense gaze from the edits — the one that’s been haunting his scrolls. his chest tightens.
“—but everyone thinks it’s real. the comments, the tiktoks…they’re shipping you with him. and i get it, you’re amazing at what you do. but fuck—,” he sighs, ruffling a hand through his hair, “—it messes with my head. like, why can’t we have that in public? why don’t people ship you with me instead?? and those looks you give him—,”
“chenle, stop.”
you cut him off with a laugh, but inside, a thrill sparks — oh, this is gold.
he swore up and down he never gets jealous, that dating you was easy because he trusted you completely, no matter the role. and now here he is, unraveling over scripted scenes and tiktok edits. and you love it, the way his cool cracks, revealing how much he cares.
you get up, squeezing yourself on his side of the couch.
“there is no ‘him.’ it’s acting — lights, camera, action — then cut…and i’m thinking about what i’m having for dinner with you,” you reassure, voice soft but laced with that teasing edge.
“but…” you continue, your fingers trailing up his thigh, the touch light at first, voice dropping to a husky whisper, “if it’s bothering you that much…maybe i need to remind you what real chemistry looks like.”
your hand presses firmer against his pants, palming him, feeling him stir under your touch, the fabric tenting as his cock begins to harden, thickening against you. slow circles with your fingers coax him further, the heat building as you rub along his length, feeling every inch respond to you — the subtle twitch, the way he shifts his hips just a fraction closer.
he doesn't resist — instead, his hands find your waist, as you lean in. your lips meet in a slow, deep kiss that starts tender, tasting like spice and him. his mouth opens to you, tongues brushing in a lazy dance that deepens quickly, hungry now.
you pour everything into it — the reassurance, the desire — nipping at his lower lip, drawing a low groan from his throat. the kiss turns messy, breaths mingling hot and fast, your free hand tangling in his shirt to pull him impossibly closer while the other keeps palming him, squeezing gently to feel him fully erect, straining against the confines.
the insecurity melts away with each press of your lips, replaced by that raw need you both crave. you break the kiss reluctantly, your forehead resting against his for a beat, eyes locked in that intimate gaze that says more than words.
then, with a wicked smile, you slide off the couch, tugging him toward the edge by his belt loops. he follows your lead, legs parting as you settle on your knees between them, the floor rough against your skin but forgotten in the heat of the moment.
your hands work his zipper open deliberately, the sound sharp in the quiet trailer. you tug his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock — now fully hard, thick and veined, with a bead of precum at the tip. the cool air makes him throb once, visibly, and you wrap your fingers around the base, stroking with a firm, unhurried grip that makes his breath hitch.
you look up at him through your lashes, that sultry gaze no one else gets to see — raw, hungry, all for him. the dominant edge in your control makes his submissive side surface, his hands hovering before settling on the table, letting you lead.
“only you get to see me like this,” you murmur, your breath hot against his skin as you wrap your finger around the base, stroking slowly, “on my knees, mouth full of you. no cameras. no directors. just us.”
he watches, mesmerized, chest rising and falling quicker as you start with your tongue —a slow, flat lick from base to tip, savoring the salty tang of him.
the physical pull between you tightens, that emotional thread weaving through every sensation — the way his eyes soften even as his body tenses. you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up the precum before parting your lips and taking him in inch by inch. the wet heat of your mouth surrounds him, velvet soft yet insistent, cheeks hollowing as you suck with deliberate pressure.
you bob your head slowly at first, building the rhythm, feeling him pulse against your tongue — the ridges, the heat, the way he fills you completely. saliva gathers, slicking your movements as you take him deeper, until the tip nudges the back of your throat. a soft hum vibrates from you, sending shivers through him, his fingers threading into your hair.
god, you were a vision. this was better than any of those damn edits.
“fuck, baby,” he gasps, hips bucking up, but you pin him down with your free hand, controlling the pace.
the whine that escapes him is desperate, needy, his cool facade crumbling as you pick up the pace — lips sliding slickly along his shaft, hand twisting at the base with each upward pull. drool escapes the corner of your mouth, trailing down, making everything messier, more real.
you glance up, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at how he’s falling apart, his body trembling under your attention. you don’t let up, hollowing your cheeks deeper, bobbing quicker, trying your best to ingore your gag reflex and the tears that are threatening to spill over.
“gonna cum—fuck—,” he stammers, voice breaking into a high-pitched whine.
you pull off just in time, stroking him fast with your hand, aiming his throbbing cock at your face.
he loses it. hips jerking as ropes of hot cum shoots out, splattering across your cheeks, lips, tongue and chin in thick spurts. you keep pumping, milking every drop until he’s spent, shuddering and panting, his release dripping down your skin in sticky trails.
still on your knees, you hold his gaze, lips parted, eyes glistening. he reaches down, thumb brushing over your cheek to swipe up a streak of his cum, smearing it gently before pressing his fingers to your mouth. you part your lips, tongue darting out to lick it off slowly, sucking his digits clean while locking eyes with him. he watches, breath hitching, as you swirl your tongue around each finger, tasting him fully, the act pulling a low groan from his throat.
yeah, he better be the only one who gets to see you like this or else he’ll end up on the news.
you rise then, climbing onto his lap, doing your best to straddle him in the tight space, your dress hiking up as you settle over his thighs, feeling his cock twitch against you, still half-hard and slick.
your hands frame his face, thumbs tracing his jaw as you lean in close, “i like seeing you jealous,” you whisper, voice laced with mischief, “it’s hot.”
he rolls his eyes but there’s no real denial in it, just a huff escaping as he grips your hips, “i’m not jealous,” he mutters, though the flush on his cheeks says otherwise.
you smirk, grinding down lightly against him, the friction making him shift, “i have to do a kissing scene with chaemin after this,” you tease, watching his reaction sharpen. his eyes darken instantly, jaw tightening, that possessive fire igniting.
“want to make sure he knows how well my boyfriend fucks me?” you continue, messing with him deliberately.
and it’s working — his hands flex on your waist, breath quickening. in one swift motion, he hoists you up, strong arms lifting you effortly as he stands, sitting you on the trailer’s counter.
the jealousy in his eyes has twisted into something feral, possessive, and you’re enjoying every second of it.
his hands slide up your thighs, bunching the fabric of your dress as he steps between your legs, forcing them apart with his hips, his fingers trailing higher while his mouth crashes against yours, lips demanding and fierce. you kiss him back just as hungrily, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
his fingers pushes yours panties to the side, parting your folds slowly, teasing the slick entrance and circling your clit in lazy strokes that makes you squirm.
“only i get to touch you like this,” he growls low, voice rough with possesiveness.
“mhm,” you moan into his mouth, “only you,” the sound muffled by the wet slide of your tongues tangling. your hips twitch toward his touch, body arching into his hand.
he smirks into the kiss, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady as he continues to torment, building the ache without giving you what you crave.
it’s not until you’re panting and grinding against him that he finally gives in — thrusting two fingers deep into your pussy, stretching you with each pump, making your hips buck wildly.
“fuck, yes,” you whimper, chasing his mouth. he seals his lips over yours again while his fingers curl inside, hitting that spot he knew too well.
your hips continue to grind down onto his hand, chasing the building wave, but before you can tip over the edge, he pulls his fingers free with a wet pop, leaving you aching and empty.
he doesn’t give you a chance to complain, already moving, scooping you up off the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. he carries you the few steps to the larger leather couch, the cool material hitting your back as he lays you down.
he follows immediately, kicking off his pants fully before climbing over you, body caging yours in the cramped space.
the couch creaks under your combined weight, but neither of you cares — you need this. crave it after the week of stolen glances and hurried farewells that left you both hollow.
you’ve missed him just as fiercely as he’s missed you.
“god, i’ve needed this,” he rasps as he slots between your thighs, tugging your panties down and gripping your hip to yank you closer. his cock nudges your entrance and then he slams inside with a guttural grunt, filling your pussy to the hilt in one brutal stroke. you cry out, arching up to meet him, your nails raking down his back in sharp lines that make him hiss.
he starts pounding into you immediately, hips pistoning fast and rough like he’s trying to erase every lingering doubt, every jealous thought from earlier.
the trailer rocks with the force of it, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out echoing off the thin walls — sloppy, relentless, your arousal coating him.
“take it baby,” he pants, leaning down to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, teeth clashing, “no one else can fuck you like this.”
you moan into him, legs spreading wider to let him drive deeper, your hands clutching his shoulder, pulling him closer. he angles his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you, the drag of his cock sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
leaning down further, his mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, just below your ear. he sucks hard, deliberate, marking you with a deep, blooming hickey that’s visible enough to stake his claim, to let everyone whisper, but subtle enough to hide under makeup and not enough to halt filming. the sting blooms into heat, making you gasp as he licks it over soothingly before biting again, lighter this time, his hips never slowing their grind.
“mine,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough.
you whimper, tilting your head to give him better access, your fingers threading thorugh his hair to hold him there.
his hands slip the straps of your dress down your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the cool air. they bounce with each powerful thrust, nipples hardening instantly and he dives in without hesitation — lips latching onto one, sucking harshly as his tongue flicks the sensitive bud.
the dual sensation of his cock hammering your pussy and his lips devouring your tits pushes you closer.
“chenle—,” you moan, arching your back to press your breast deeper into his hot suction. your hips buck up to match his rhythm, the friction building that coil in your belly tighter and tighter. moans spill from your lips unchecked, raw and loud, the two of you lost in the frenzy, “—don’t stop,” you pant, legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper, your pussy clenching around his thick length.
you’re so close, teetering on the edge, every nerve alight with the stretch and drag of him inside you. waves of pleasure crest, your breaths coming in sharp gasps, body tensing—
a sharp knock rattles the trailer door. you both freeze. chenle’s cock throbbing deep in your pussy, your walls fluttering around him in frustration.
“hey! we need you on set in five! the last kissing scene with chaemin for the night!” your manager’s voice, muffled but insistent, slicing through the thick air like an unwelcome intruder.
chenle’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing into dark slits of irritation, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle twitch. but he doesn’t pull away — no. he stays right there, buried to the root inside you, his thick cock pulsing against your fluttering walls, refusing to let the moment shatter completely.
the interruption hangs between you, your heart pounding not just from the near-orgasm but from the thrill of almost getting caught, the risk of it all making your skin prickle with heat.
“i-i’ll be out in a minute!” you call back, voice strained and breathy, forcing a steadiness that doesn’t match the way your body trembles beneath him. it comes out higher than intended, laced with the edge of a moan you barely swallow down. your manager grumbles something indistinct — an acknowledgement, maybe a sigh — before her footsteps fade away, leaving the trailer in heavy silence once more.
your chest heaves with ragged breaths, pulse thundering in your ears, the denial of release twisting into a deeper ache that pools low in your belly. you clench around him instinctively, a silent plea, and chenle’s lips curve into that wicked smirk, the possessive glint in his eyes flaring brighter than before.
“a minute?” he murmurs, voice a low rumble against your ear, dripping with challenge, “that’s all i need to remind you who you belong to.”
without another word, he surges forward again, thrusting hard and fast, making every second count — his cock pounding into you with renewed fury. his hips snap against yours, the slap of skin on skin echoing louder now, more desperate, as if he’s racing the clock itself.
the mention of chaemin’s name ignited something feral in him, a fresh blaze of possessive fire that makes his eyes darken to near black. he snarls low in his throat, the jealousy fueling him like gasoline on flames, and his pace turns savage. he fucks you faster, rougher, his hips rutting into you wildly, angling your body just right with a firm hand on your hip, tilting you so your head nearly slips off the edge of the leather couch. the world spins as he hits deeper, the force of his thrusts jolting you with every slam, your neck arching back until dizziness swirls in your skull, pleasure and disorientation blurring into one intoxicating rush.
he growls, one hand sliding between your sweat-slicked bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, insistent circles that make your vision blur. the pressure builds instantly, white-hot and overwhelming, your moans turning frantic and unrestrained as he drives you toward the edge you were yanked from moments ago.
“cum on my cock, baby — show me no one else can do this to you.”
his thumb presses harder on your clit, flicking in time with his wild bucks, and you were a goner. you cum — hard — clamping around him with a sharp cry that rips from your throat, thighs trembling uncontrollably, your head spinning wildly from the angle and the intensity, stars exploding behind your eyelids.
the sight — the feel, the way you scream his name — tips him over too. he groans low and guttural, the sound broken and primal, his rhythm faltering as your orgasm squeezes him mercilessly, burying himself to the hilt with one final, deep plunge, cock twitching violently as he cums inside you. hot spurts flood your walls, thick and endless, coating you until you feel utterly claimed, marked from the inside out. he rocks his hips shallowly through it, grinding to push every drop deeper, his breath hot and erratic against your neck.
panting, sweat-slicked and spent, he pulls out slowly, his softening cock slipping free with a wet glide, a thick trail of his cum starting to leak from your swollen folds. but before your pussy can push it out, you slid your hand down between your legs, fingers dipping into the mess as you scooped up the creamy release, pressing it back inside you with a deliberate push, sealing it within you.
chenle watches, transfixed, his eyes hooded and dark, chest still rising and falling heavily. the sight of your fingers working his cum back into you makes his breath hitch again, a fresh twitch stirring in his spent length, already half-hardening at the erotic display.
“shit, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough with lingering hunger, reaching down to trace a finger along your inner thigh, smearing the excess. “you really are mine, aren’t you?”
“of course i am,” you meet his gaze, your hand stilling as you nod, the words spilling out soft but steady, “you’re the only one i think of when i do those scenes,” you murmur, voice soft but steady, locking gazes with him, reassuring him one last time, the words wrapping around his lingering jealousy like a hug.
chenle’s eyes soften as your words sink in, the tension in his shoulders easing like a storm finally breaking. his hand cup your cheek with a tenderness that contrasts the raw intensity from moments ago.
“i know,” he whispers, voice rough from exertion but laced with relief, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, "i believe you. always have.”
the jealousy that had clawed at him all week fades into the background, replaced by the quiet certainty of your relationship — the one that’s real, unscripted and unbreakable.
he helps you up, steadying you as your legs wobble from the aftershocks, then grabs a paper towel from the nearby sink to wipe away the lingering traces of your passion — gentle swipes over your thighs, your chest, his touch soft now, like he’s memorizing every inch all over again.
“no one else can see you like this,” he teases lightly, but his smile is warm, eyes crinkling at the corners.
you kiss him again before slipping into the tiny bathroom attached to the trailer, brushing your teeth — chaemin doesn’t need to know how your boyfriend tasted.
he watches you with a fond gaze, and when you finish, he steps in close, hands finding your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder as you both stare into the mirror. his lips brushing your neck in feather-light kisses, savoring the moment.
“you look perfect,” he murmurs against your skin.
dressed and composed, you steal one last moment, leaning into his arms, enjoying the quiet, before your manager’s knock echoes again, more insistent this time.
chenle walks you to the door, his hand in yours, squeezing reassuringly, “go kill it out there,” he says, but there’s a spark in his eye, a newfound resolve, “…i think im gonna watch, if that’s okay with you?”
you nod, surprised but warmed by the shift and he follows you out, slipping into the bustling set like a shadow at your side.
🎬
the crew buzzes around, lights glaring and cameras positioned. he stays at the back, finding a spot just off to the side — close enough to watch, far enough not to disrupt. his presence feels like an anchor, steady and supportive, as you step into the scene with chaemin.
the director calls action and it unfolds — the scripted buildup, the charged glances, the slow lean-in that culminates the kiss. chenle’s gaze locks on you, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set in quiet observation. he watches chaemin’s hand cup your face like it was a choreography, the press of lips that was all timing and angle, no heat, no hunger, just actor’s hitting their marks. it was polished, sure, the kind of illusion that fools cameras and fans alike, but up close? he sees it for what it is — movie magic. no spark, no pull.
he still hates it though. that gnawing twist in his chest at seeing another guy’s face so near yours, even if it’s fake. the possessiveness flares just enough to remind him why he showed up today.
but as the director yells “cut!” and you pull back from chaemin with professional ease, wiping your lips subtly on the back of your hand — it doesn’t go unnoticed by him either.
the set erupts in the usual post scene chatter —crew adjusting lights, the script supervisor calling notes, chaemin cracking a joke to lighten the mood that draws polite laughs but nothing more. you glance over at him, eyes finding his across the chaos and there’s that shared secret in your gaze, the one that says this is all surface-level.
and he gets it. really gets it. the difference is night and day. your kisses with him are messy, desperate grabs in stolen moments, tongues tangling like you can’t get enough, breaths ragged and bodies pressing close because you want to, not because you have to.
this? this is work. a job. and you’re damn good at it, which only makes him prouder, even if he’d rather punch a wall than admit how much cool he lost earlier.
the scene wraps not long after, the director calling it a day. you slip away from the group without a second glance, heading straight toward chenle. his eyes light up as you approach, that boyish grin breaking through.
“i was thinking,” you murmur, sliding your arms around his waist as you reach him, head tilting back to look up at him.
“hmm?” he hums back, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, holding you close.
“can you make ramen for dinner tonight?” your voice is soft, a pout on your lips that he found utterly adorable.
his heart does a little flip — that whole time in front of the cameras, acting like you’re in love with someone else and all you were thinking about is dinner…with him. exactly like you told him earlier.
“sure, baby,” he replies, voice warm and steady, leaning down to press quick kiss to your temple.
you smile against his chest.
“and can we get ice cream on the way home?” you add, meeting his eyes, a playgul glint there.
he lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you’re unbelievable.
“anything you want,” he says without hesitation, his grin deepening as he tucks you closer, the two of you turning toward the exit together.
the set lights dim behind you, the noise fading, the world shrinking down to the warmth of him.
you lean into his shoulder. he presses a soft kiss into your hair.
dinner. ice cream. the quiet ride home.
chenle is nonchalant about a lot of things — schedules, cameras, rumors, the chaos of it all. he carries it lightly, like nothing really shakes him.
but he can never be nonchalant about you.
it’s actually impossible. because when it comes to you, his heart gives him away every single time. and he just loves you far too much to ever pretend otherwise.
SYNOPSIS: mark — former gangster — has always wanted to leave the criminal world behind. seeing how his friends succeeded after leaving, he bites the bullet and finally leaves as well. the only problem? mark doesn't know how to start afresh.
PAIRING: pianist!mark x female!reader
GENRE: fluff, strangers to enemies (in love)
WORD COUNT: 2.7k
CONTAINS: mentions of mark being a retired gangster. angry (hot) mark, language, yn pushes mark's buttons (a lot). this part is tied to haechan's (part 3) but you don't have to read that if you haven't already.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: i love angry marks so much he's everything i want and crave and wish for. i said parts for this mini series will not be in order but this is tied to part 1, and future parts will probably still be in chronological order until i state otherwise in future author's notes. if this gets confusing you can come talk to me about it! series masterlist linked at the end of the post. not proofread (yet). enjoy! <3
After your little argument on his doorstep, during which he found the guts to have an attitude — which almost never happened, because everyone knew Mark to be the salt of the Earth — Mark felt bad.
The interaction kept replaying in his head. The look in your eyes while you told him what was bothering you, the eyebrow he felt arching on its own on his forehead, as he saw the attitude with which you knocked on his door. The tone of your voice as you spoke up, the tone of his voice when he talked back to you.
Mark never talked back to women. To men, yes — maybe, sometimes, and on extremely bad days. To women? Never. He respects them, worships the ground they walk on, their words become law to Mark. He would never raise his voice, he would never ridicule or mock them, he would never do anything to upset them. Men on the other hand? He never cared about them — but when women brought something up, he felt he was powerless, like his thoughts and words never even mattered, and like he didn’t have a free will of his own.
The world revolves around women. Yet he gave attitude to one.
The moment kept replaying in his mind as soon as his head hit the pillow, as soon as he had a bit of free time and his mind was free of worries — it wandered back to that moment, haunting him. Even during classes and tutoring sessions, students often noticed him zoning out, too busy thinking about your first interaction.
He felt bad. You request was reasonable, normal for someone working hard during the day. Albeit it wasn’t that late, as bad as you made it seem, Mark understood your point the following day. It wasn’t a crazy request, but your attitude rubbed him the wrong way, and he felt like he was being attacked on a personal level because it had been such a long time before he actually decided what he wanted to do with his life — and to hear you being rude and trying to take that away from him, it really made him snap.
He didn’t bring this up to his friends. Not to Jaemin, and especially not to Haechan, because he’d never see the end of his teasing. He can already hear the mocking tone and he basically knows what words his friend would use to make him feel even worse than he already does. So no, he didn’t feel like bringing this up to anyone. Maybe to Jeno? But he hasn’t seen or heard from him in a while. He’s the one Mark goes to when he just needs to vent and rant and nothing more, because he knows he just needs someone to listen to him instead of trying to come up with solutions, and Jeno’s the perfect guy for this. Maybe he should call him soon, or maybe drop by his house.
Ever since that night, he’s been trying to keep it down for you. No more late night playing, no more late night practising. Instead, he wakes up early in order to have the time to get through music sheets before the first class of the day, and he allows you to sleep in during weekends because he knows you might need it — even if his fingers are basically itching to start practicing.
A week goes by, and Mark notices your presence again at about 8:15 in the morning, on a Monday.
His keys jingle as he tries balancing his bag on his shoulder and holding all his papers in his arms, while also trying to lock his front door. He hears someone else’s keys jingling, and spots someone moving on his left. He turns a bit on the spot, head fully turned to look at you, gracefully locking your front door. His mouth runs dry, he doesn’t even notice what you’re wearing. He knows he has to talk to you and clear the air, and maybe he’ll be able to sleep peacefully again.
Seeing you making your way towards him, he turns around, fully facing you while still holding his papers tightly to his chest. Your walk is determined, your hair moves with every step you take, and it has him gulping before opening his mouth.
“Hel-” He tries to greet you, but shuts his mouth as soon as he sees you ignoring his presence, like you don’t even acknowledge his existence, and his head turns around, slowly following your moving figure.
You walk past him and towards the elevator, and Mark’s eyes unwillingly follow the way you sway your hips, gaze falling on your legs as you walk gracefully. Your heels clatter on the marbled floors of the hall, and your perfume fills Mark’s senses as you get farther away from him. He sees as you wait for the elevator for mere seconds before it stop on your floor, and you get in, not even sparing him a look.
There’s nothing he can do. He feels totally powerless when he tries talking to you again, the following Thursday. He shouts after you to hold the elevator for him to join you, because he’s extremely late, yet you look him straight in the eye before you allow the doors to close right before he can reach the doors and step inside. And then again, the same night, when he’s the one holding the elevator for you, because coincidentally you got home at the same time. Ego certainly bigger than his, you look at him before you go towards the stairs, leaving him behind once again.
When the weekend comes, Mark leaves home early. Haechan’s bakery opens today, and while he can’t really talk about his issues with his friend, Mark can at least hope Jeno will have the decency to drop by and support Haechan — thus giving him the perfect opportunity to pull him by the sleeve and have someone to rant to.
“Tell me again,” Jaemin speaks to him with urgency, looking at the cups of coffee he puts on his tray, “Why are you in charge of making the beverages?”
Mark shrugs, clueless and scared at the same time. “He put me straight to work,” He points at Haechan, who does his best to interact with all the customers coming up to the counter to place orders.
When he got here, the place was already flocked with people, children’s laughter filled the room, the air smelled warm and sweet, and Jaemin was doing his best to serve the tables around. And Haechan didn’t even give him the time to properly greet and congratulate him, because he dragged Mark around the counter, putting him straight to work.
“You know how to make coffee, right?” Haechan asked him, gesturing around showing him a few buttons on the expensive coffee machine.
“Yes,” Mark confirmed. ‘At home’, he wanted to add, but kept quiet instead, seeing how Haechan wasn’t even listening to him, going back to the counter to talk to clients and to instruct them about all the products available.
Now, Jaemin looks at him, and Mark knows the look in his eyes and what it means. Jaemin’s mocking him. “And Haechan thought you won’t ruin his opening day with your coffee?” But Mark doesn’t necessarily get hurt, and just looks at the receipts, hoping that what he’s doing is enough to help his friend.
That’s how Mark finds himself stressed. He thanks the heavens for not making him choose to be a barista, because he’s fairly certain he’s already ruining his friend’s reputation. He spotted Jeno a while ago, but he never got the chance to talk to him, his friend sitting at a table and enjoying someone’s company and, of course, him being too busy being Haechan’s slave for the day.
A cup falls from his hand, and Haechan turns around and gets to his side in a millisecond.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Mark? What do you think you’re doing?” Haechan barks lowly, making sure the rumble of the clients covers his menaces, “Get your shit together, this is expensive coffee, of the highest quality, not just the usual piss you drink in the kitchen of your super expensive condo. And you’re ruining it,” Haechan pushes him away, grabbing another cup, “Who even put you in charge of this? You should be cleaning toilets,” Haechan rasps, dismissing him.
“You did…” Mark manages to retort with half mouth, watching as Haechan takes his place in front of the coffee machine.
“Go take orders at the counter,” Haechan squints his eyes at him, pointing his head somewhere behind Mark’s figure.
And that’s exactly what he does. The prospect of being away from the coffee machine seeming so promising to him, not willing to be the reason Haechan’s opening day gets ruined.
He wishes he could be better at manoeuvring things. Sure, Haechan made a fair point when he said he should be cleaning stuff, because after all, that’s what he’s best at. Night surveillance? One of the worst shifts he had to do when he was still in the clan. But cleaning? He loved doing it, especially if he had to do it with Chenle, because his friend and clan member was going to talk for the whole time. And Mark loves listening to people when he isn’t going through a rough patch.
“Haechan?” He speaks up, fearful and uncertain. He really fears for his life right now, especially knowing just how stressed Haechan has been lately. Mark really feels like he’s going to become Haechan’s victim today, “Haechan? I kinda need your help…”
Mark notices a pair of curious eyes spying from behind Haechan’s figure, and the person goes back to talking to Haechan, only to come behind the counter immediately after.
“You must be Mark,” The girl speaks up, giving him a warm smile and proceeding to introduce herself.
Mark’s eyes nearly bulk out of their orbits. This is the girl his friend has been talking about, so he makes a mental note to act like he’s never heard of her before. He averts his gaze, because looking at her might give him away, and he tries working on the tablet in front of him, and at its frozen screen.
“Oh… hmm… hi,” He stutters, “Hello, nice to meet you,”
His life has never been easy. He got into the clan when he was still a teenager, barely out of school. He started from the bottom, and then rapidly climbed his way up by always executing orders as fast as he could, the best as he could.
But the stress caught up to him. God knows he made friends while being part of the clan — some that he already considers part of the family, but his job in the clan didn’t make him happy. When he was young, and got entangled in all this mess, he was ecstatic. It was something new, something that made him feel powerful, free, wild even, but the effects wore off with time, and it took three of his clan members to quit their jobs and to see how happy they were with the choice made, before he found the guts to do it as well.
And he never regretted doing it. Every day he wakes up grateful that he quit, that he followed Jaemin’s advice, and that he’s able to finally feel free, realising that what he once considered freedom was nothing compared to what he’s feeling these days.
Days are lighter, he doesn’t even know when time goes by during work — he loves what he does. It’s more like a hobby that he loves sharing with people, teaching this hobby to them as well, and also getting paid for it in the meanwhile.
Nothing but wins for Mark — except for the small battle he’s lost against you.
You, who has been haunting him ever since that quarrel that night. You, who’s in line to be his next customer at the counter.
“You have to be kidding me,” You mumble loud enough for him to hear you, and you can see how his smile falters as his eyes meet yours the moment the customer in front of you moves away.
You feel like you could punch him. You can’t escape him, you can’t swing around your own building without him being there, waiting for you in front of the elevator, or asking you to hold the door for him, or just being there when you go to work in the morning. He tries to make small talk, which you really hate, and you can’t bear the thought of not being able to enjoy your day off with a friend because, for some reason, he’s always around.
What kind of sick joke is this?
“Do you work here?” You ask before you can stop yourself, and you look at him. No apron, no name tag, no sign that he might be working here, unlike the other girl behind the counter, who seems in charge of important things. You don’t even know his name.
“No,” He sounds strangled, and you see the look in his eyes changing from sparkling and cheerful, to serious and somber. You’d be actually scared if you didn’t know he’s a musician, harmless as a stray cat.
“Then, do you do this for pocket money?” You ask, mocking him, and you see him trying his best not to argue back. It reminds you of the night you knocked on his door and he talked back to you with an attitude. “Are you following me around?”
“What?” He barks back almost immediately, squinting his eyes with confusion, “Am I following you around? I could be asking you the same question,”
You don’t like his tone, “Why would I be following you around?” Suddenly you dislike him even more, and you’re surprised to discover it being possible, “You’re the one who has been trying to talk to me like a pervert,”
He huffs a breath of disbelief, “Get off your high horse,” He tries his best to keep his voice down, “If you weren’t so egotistical you’d actually know that I was going to apologise to you, and you’d maybe thank me for adjusting my schedule to accommodate yours! But you’re actually so self absorbed that you treated me like I was a monster for doing what I want in the privacy of my own home and-”
“Mark, I think your tablet froze once again,” Haechan’s crush intervenes, so he shuts his mouth, suddenly remembering where he is and the reason why he’s here.
He throws you one more look before agreeing with the girl behind the counter, moving away briefly to allow her to play with the tablet. He knows she had to intervene before he lost all control over his mouth and words, because it meant ruining this special day for his friend.
He steps aside, visibly upset, and you appreciate the pretty and polite girl who steps up to take your order. Your friend does all the talking, entertaining a conversation with the girl behind the counter, all while you eye your neighbour — whose name you just found out to be Mark. You scoff, out of instinct, too lost in your thoughts to control yourself, thinking that such a cute name was wasted on a vile and disgraceful specimen.
Hearing your scoffing, Mark’s gaze snaps back up to meet yours, and he can’t believe just how obnoxious you’re being.
Your arrogance is making him seethe with anger, and it all adds up to the pent up frustration he hasn’t been able to let out ever since he retired.
And worst of all, he really tried to mend things, but to no avail.
The day goes by as he helps taking orders at the counter, albeit he continues to face enormous struggles with the tablet. The pretentious look in your eyes kept bothering him, the sarcasm and superiority dripping off your tone has his blood pressure going through the roof, and he just can’t understand why is this happening to him?
This is already your second fight, and as he slowly drives back home late in the afternoon, it becomes clear as day to him that there’s just no way you two can get along — ever.
Synopsis: You’re convinced that Jaemin doesn’t care about you, despite having a physical connection for over a year. You expected to spend Valentine’s Day alone again; until confrontation gives way to tension & unsaid feelings that neither of you can ignore.
A/N: Mal here!! 🌸 It’s my first ff that I’m actually publishing and fully writing. It’s heavily inspired by ‘Back To The Start’ by Somo!! I’m sooo excited guys omg. I wanted this to be published on Valentine’s Day, but yk..life happens💔it’s okay though. It’s not a major factor in the story guys
It was the day before Valentine’s Day.
Most people were out shopping for gifts for their significant others, planning dates, writing letters, looking for the fanciest restaurants.
Meanwhile, you were in your best friend’s apartment, crying over a guy you weren’t even dating.
“I just- I don’t know. I just wish he would see me the way I see him. It’s not just sex to me.”
Your hoodie was practically drenched from the way you constantly wiped your tears away. It was honestly sickening to watch.
The only person who’d ever see you like this was Renjun, your best friend of seven going on eight years.
“Y/n, you’re so pathetic; it’s making my stomach ache.” Renjun grimaced as he listened to you vent about the same fuck-boy for the 80th time this month.
His words made you giggle for the first time that day. “Bitch, you’re just hungry.”
Renjun was the only person who knew about your situation with Jaemin. He hated him and his friend-group full of whores, but he knew how much you were in love with him.
That didn’t stop him from being honest with you, though. You needed to open your eyes, and let Jaemin go. But, you just couldn’t. You knew he had a big heart deep down; you just needed to figure out how to unlock that side of him.
“Yeah, that I am. And I’m also sick of your shit. You’ve confessed to him during sex and he never says it back? Y/n, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” Renjun sighed, deeply disappointed in how pitiful you’d become.
“You care too much, while he doesn’t care at all.” Renjun got up from the couch as he spoke, “Let’s go get something to eat. You’re paying, since you’ve pissed me off for the day.”
You smacked your teeth as you followed his lead out the door, but you weren’t actually upset. This was Renjun’s way of getting your mind off of Jaemin. He knew you weren’t leaving him alone any time soon, so he decided to distract you for the time being.
⏾
At the same time you were out with Renjun, Jaemin was hanging with his friends. Low music playing in the background as they all sat around in the living room listening to Jaemin talk. Ironically, you were the topic.
“That’s what you get for having sex with the same girl more than once, dude.” Haechan was the first to speak after Jaemin’s complaints. He took a sip from his can of beer as he manspread all over the couch.
“Agreed. I’m starting to think you’re in love with her sorry ass, too.” Chenle suddenly piped in, eyes fixated on the TV as he looked for a new song to play.
Jaemin closed his eyes as he shook his head and chuckled. “She’s just another one of my fuck buddies. No more than that.”
Jaemin loved to lie to himself when it came to you. The two of you had been hooking up since last year, which was a rare occurrence. He fell in love with you the moment he saw you, but he’d never admit that.
Everyone knew about Jaemin never committing to anyone. He’d have a new girl to hook up with every week. But as soon as you came around, nobody ever saw him with another girl again.
It was all about you. He thought he’d have sex with you once, and then move on after that. But he found himself outside your apartment the following week. And every week after that. There was something about you — something he never felt with anyone else.
“Sure.” Haechan deadpanned, obviously not believing a word coming out of Jaemin’s mouth.
Silence settled in the room as the music continued to play. Everyone attended to their own business since the conversation was over.
Eventually, Jeno nudged Jaemin silently. He looked up from his phone and at Jeno with a confused look.
Jeno motioned for him to follow him to the kitchen, secluded from everyone else. Jaemin immediately got up and followed.
Once they were alone, Jeno sighed and looked at him with firm eyes. “Look, I know you were just spewing bullshit out there with the guys about Y/n. Did you forget the way you spoke about her when the two of you first met?”
This caused Jaemin to frown. “What?”
“Dude. Come on. You’re my best friend, I know you. You know you love her. It’s just hard for you to say.” Jeno paused, taking a sip from whatever bottle he was holding. “Trust me, I get it. Your ex was a real bitch, and you know I hate saying that word.”
Jaemin’s gaze turned to the floor at the mention of his ex. She ruined him for the worst. He hasn’t been the same since they broke up, filling the void with meaningless sex with various different girls. He didn’t even know what he was doing with himself anymore.
It was hard for Jaemin to keep his walls up around Jeno. The guy knew him better than anyone. He was the only one there for him when his ex broke up with him.
“You’re scared Y/n’s gonna do you the same way she did. But you gotta let that shit go, bro. Not every girl is like her. You just got unlucky.”
Jaemin crossed his arms. There was suddenly an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. “I don’t know, man. I’m just gonna end up hurting her like I do with everyone else. I don’t wanna do that. She’s too sweet.”
He couldn’t even believe that he uttered those words. Since when did he care about hurting you?
“Dude, you obviously care about her. Just allow yourself to accept the love that she’s willing to give. She’s not responsible for anything you’ve been through. Stop holding her accountable for the shit your ex did.”
Jaemin fell silent as Jeno clocked him again and again. His mind was all over the place. What should he do about you? The last time the two of you spoke, you were yelling at him with tears in your eyes as you expressed how hurt you were. He hated how that moment kept playing in his mind and how much it hurt him to see you like that.
He had done enough damage. He thought it’d be better to leave you alone for good. But as the days went on, he realized how hard it was to be away from you. All he wanted was to be in your embrace.
Jeno sighed once again, getting sick of his lack of words.
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, or get in your head. But I just want you to see it for how it is. Please just talk to her, man. Before she moves on and finds someone else.”
That last sentence set Jaemin off. That was the last thing he wanted. Anything but that. He grabbed his keys and flashed Jeno a determined look.
“Thanks, man.” Those were the only words he uttered before making his way out of the kitchen. Not even bothering to glance anyone else’s way, he reached for the front door and unlocked his car door.
⏾
Renjun took you to your favorite spot. Of course, you had to pay for everything, but that didn’t bother you. As long as you were feeling better, you didn’t mind.
The two of you had finished your meals ages ago, talking and laughing about old times as you walked around your favorite mall. That’s when your phone suddenly vibrated, stopping you in your tracks. You slowly pulled it from your back pocket to see what the notification was.
Jaem 💕:
‘Are you home? We need to talk.’
Your heart dropped to your stomach. Renjun grew worried as your expression shifted. “What did he say?” he questioned, already knowing who messaged you.
“He asked if I’m home and said we need to talk...” Your voice trembled as you spoke. The last time the two of you spoke was two weeks ago when you were screaming at him for hurting your feelings. You were embarrassed and horrified.
“Do you want me to drop you off at your place? I honestly think you two should talk, too.” Renjun pointed towards the exit as he spoke. You quickly nodded and headed towards the door.
You:
‘I was out with Renjun. I’m otw home now.’
Jaem 💕:
‘Okay, can we go to my place and talk? I won’t try anything, promise.’
You:
‘Yeah we can.’
The car ride was so silent that you could’ve died. Renjun didn’t know what to say, but you really wished he would run that big mouth of his right now. You were losing your mind with this silence.
“Renjun, please, say something. I’m losing my mind.”
He kept his eyes fixed on the road, his expression not changing. “All I can say is ‘good luck’ because girl, I really don’t know how this is gonna go.”
He had a point. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, either. Maybe you should’ve just blocked him instead. This was one of the scariest situations you’d ever been in.
You reached the parking lot of your apartment. Renjun parked the car beside Jaemin’s. You saw him in the driver’s seat, looking as beautiful as ever. The troubled look on his face didn’t go unnoticed, though.
You opened the car door, which grabbed his attention. He turned to face you, and rolled down his window.
Renjun’s eyes burned into his skin. Jaemin knew how protective he was over you, and how much he hated his guts for treating you like shit.
“You better not try any stupid shit, bitch. I know where you live.” Renjun spat at Jaemin from the driver’s seat. You immediately looked back at him.
“Renjun, be calm.” You gave him that ‘I’m gonna be fine’ smile, even though you weren’t sure if you were gonna go home happy or sobbing tonight.
“It’s fine, I understand.” Jaemin assured, giving an awkward smile.
Renjun sighed and let it go. He put his car in reverse and began backing out of the parking lot after you shut the car door behind you.
You rushed to the passenger seat and closed the door. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, just at your shoes as the car began to move.
The music playing on the radio was the only noise that could be heard during that car ride for about ten minutes. You didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. It was awkward. You didn’t know whether to apologize or wait for him to speak first.
“Okay, so are we going to talk on the way there or are you just going to wait until we’re at your house to say something?” You mustered up the courage to finally ask the question you had been wondering this whole time.
“What do you want to talk about?” He spoke as his were glued to the road, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on his lap. You missed seeing those pretty hands of his and what they’d do to you. But now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that.
“I want to know why you decided to pick me up and talk to me after two weeks of no contact. Why the sudden change of heart? You literally didn’t care about me the whole time I was in your face saying all that bullshit.”
You decided to be honest. It was time to stop holding back on the things you wanted to say to him. Forget worrying about his feelings; he never cared about hurting yours.
“Oh, look, we made it.” Completely ignoring your words, Jaemin turned off the engine and exited the car. You slowly followed soon after.
He threw you the keys and walked to the trunk of his car.
“Get inside and go up to my room. I’ve got to get a few groceries out my trunk. I promise I heard what you said, though.” He waited for you to turn and enter the house before retrieving the items from of his trunk.
Without any further questions, you unlocked the front door. The delicate scent of the Peach Blossom fragrance that Jaemin loved so much filled your nose the moment you walked in. You could never get tired of it, no matter what.
The dim lights in the living room, with clean, white furniture and family pictures hanging on the walls felt all too familiar. You had to admit, you missed being at his place, even if it were just brief hookups.
Already knowing your way around, you decided to find the bathroom. You hadn’t realized how much of a mess you looked with that damp hoodie on. You quickly peeled it off of you, leaving only your tank top on.
You examined your appearance, fixing your hair, redoing your mascara, and reapplying your lipgloss. It was like second nature for you. It didn’t matter if you were in a ridiculous situation right now. You refused to not look your best.
About ten minutes had passed since you first came into the house. You let the time pass as you doom-scrolled on your phone while sitting at the edge of Jaemin’s bed. You were starting to grow impatient, wondering why he picked you up just to leave you waiting.
After what felt like a century, Jaemin knocked on the wall to make his appearance known. He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. You couldn’t read his expression. He was grinning, but you couldn’t tell what it meant.
He wore an open jacket with a tank top underneath. You were starting to think it was on purpose. He knew you loved seeing him in tank tops. You were a sucker for his biceps.
“Tell me, baby. What is it that you want?” He spoke in that low, seductive tone he always used on you. It worked like a charm every single time.
“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him. There were a lot of things you wanted right now. You weren’t sure which one to say first.
Jaemin’s expression didn’t change. He remained calm and patient. What game was he trying to play?
“What you were telling me two weeks ago. Tell me why you were upset. I want you to be honest and say what you want me to do.”
“I think...” You thought to yourself for a minute. Looking back on that ‘argument,’ you had to think about why you were even yelling at him in the first place.
“I think that after we had sex, I was just upset that you weren’t giving me what I really wanted. Like, I didn’t just want sex, y’know?”
Your hands rested on either side of you, gaze fixated on the floor. You were never the type to yell at someone while crying. You were ashamed that you showed that kind of vulnerability with him.
“Y/n, look at me.”
You silently obeyed, eyes traveling upwards to meet his.
“Come here.”
That low tone made you move instinctively. Were you even thinking, right now?
He slowly brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft peck. His eyes never left yours. You were entering a trance.
“Describe it to me, baby. Tell me what you wanted.”
It was so easy for you to fall for him. Every. Single. Time. All he had to do was look at you a certain way, and you were already gone. There was no going back, and you knew it.
“I w-wanted you to show passion.” You tumbled over your words, nervous to dive deeper into what you wanted.
“It didn’t feel like it meant anything. It’s as if your heart and soul weren’t in it, and that’s all I wanted.”
A sudden wave of confidence washed over you. Describing the type of sex you wanted was certainly making you hornier than you thought.
“I love you, Jaemin.”
Pulling him into your embrace, you stood on your toes and whispered in his ear.
“I want you to make love to me, not just meaningless sex.”
If Renjun knew you were verbally expressing your love to Jaemin once again, he’d call you the dumbest bird he’d ever met. But you didn’t care. You were going to make sure Jaemin knew how you felt. You were never afraid to express your love for anyone.
Jaemin wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. He leaned his head down to your ear as he spoke in that same low tone.
“Let me make it up to you.”
His began placing soft pecks on your jaw and down to your neck. The kisses were slow, patient. It was as if he were taking his precious time to appreciate you as his hands explored your body.
You softly exhaled as he caressed your body. This wasn’t what you were used to with him. He was never like this.
“I miss you inside of me, Jaemin.” You teased, using that sweet tone that always made him fold for you.
Jaemin brought his face back up to yours. The grin on his face grew wider.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?”
Next thing you knew, he was smashing his lips onto yours. It was quick and rough, he didn’t give you time to process.
He began pulling down the straps of your tank top and bra, tossing them somewhere on the floor. You let him have his way with you. He said he was making it up to you, so why would you stop him?
It didn’t take long for him to unbutton your pants and tug them down, along with your underwear. You quickly got out of them, never breaking the kiss while doing so.
Jaemin slowly pulled away from the kiss and backed away, leaving you confused.
There you were, completely bare right before his eyes. He admired every curve of your body, and how beautiful your skin looked in the dim lighting of his room.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”
Jaemin was in awe of how beautiful you were. He’d never taken the time to fully appreciate your body. You were growing a little nervous as he took a picture of you with his eyes.
After Jeno’s words of encouragement, Jaemin felt like a new man. He was finally allowing himself to really see you. And he loved every second of it.
Eventually, he quickly took off his jacket and his tank top. Those biceps were just as big as they’d always have been. You loved how perfect his body proportions were. It was hard to believe a man this perfect-looking was giving you the time of day.
His lips were back on yours, cupping your face as your tongues danced together. He guided you to the bed, never breaking the kiss, and laid you down gently.
Taking his sweet time, Jaemin placed open kisses on your neck, and all the way down to your breasts. He stopped at your nipples, lightly sucking on one as he pinched the other.
You were a sucker for foreplay. He knew that. He got more than just one soft whine from you. Your hands found his hair and gripped softly, growing more aroused as he watched you.
His kisses trailed down until he reached your inner thighs. You could barely stay silent as he teased you, leaving hickeys instead of giving you what you really wanted.
You weren’t going to complain, though. This wasn’t like the rushed sex you’d usually had.
He dipped his head down a little more, stopping right before his lips came into contact with your clit. His eyes met yours, and you could feel your heart skip a beat.
“You okay?” His low, sultry tone made you throb as his warm breath hit your clit. He gave you a sweet smile, as if he were seeing you for the first time. Was this the same Jaemin as before?
You quickly nodded. “I’m okay.” You assured, copying his smile.
Without a second thought, Jaemin’s tongue circled around your clit in a steady rhythm. You threw your head back as a soft moan slipped past your lips. This caused Jaemin to pick up his pace.
His tongue licked between your folds, and suddenly two fingers slowly entered your cunt. You couldn’t help but whimper at the new sense of pleasure.
Jaemin’s eyes never left your figure. He was enjoying every second of toying with you, finding new ways to learn your body.
Not too long after, you were starting to feel like he was enjoying this more than you were. He closed his eyes, moaning against your clit, sucking harshly as he continued to thrust inside you. The wet sound of your cunt was so obscene in that quiet room.
“J-Jaemin,” you stammered, feeling a familiar knot form in your lower stomach. Your thighs squeezed around his head as you got closer.
“I know, baby.” He cooed, bringing his head up just enough to look at you. “Let it all out for me.”
That was all you needed before your liquids pooled outside of you. Jaemin watched you unfold before him. Thighs trembling, pornographic moans, back arching.
“That’s it, pretty girl.” He murmured, before removing his hands from inside you and sucking them delicately. “So sweet.”
Crawling back up to you, he kissed you slowly, making sure that you tasted yourself on his tongue.
“How was it?” He panted, cheeks a rose pink as he looked at you with hopeful eyes. ‘So cute,’ you thought to yourself, cupping his face.
“Perfect.” You whispered, smiling sweetly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He had just done so much for you; it only felt right to pay him back. You wanted to make him feel just as good.
“Let me on top. I wanna ride you.” You looked at him with a smoldering gaze, hoping he’d say yes.
“Uh-uh,” he replied, shaking his head. “Tonight is all about you, baby. What you want.” He brushed your hair out of your face, as if he didn’t just reject your request.
You pouted, feeling a bit disappointed. “But, I wanna make you feel good.” You argued, not wanting to take ‘no’ for an answer.
He started placing wet kisses on your jawline. “You will, baby. You will.”
You closed your eyes, biting your swollen bottom lip as you felt his bulge grow harder in his pants. A moan escaped your lips, anticipating the next sequence of events.
He removed his undergarments with one swift motion, wasting no time. His pretty, pink tip already dripped with pre-cum, you couldn’t help but stare.
You almost drooled at the sight, forgetting how thick he was. Hell, it had been two weeks since you last had this.
“Missed me that much?” he teased, a sly grin portrayed on his face. You let out a slight chuckle, coming back to reality. “Shut up.”
Jaemin examined you once again — more so, your cunt. You were still dripping to the core from his previous assault.
He positioned himself right at your entrance, moving painfully slowly as he used your slit as lube. You watched as he fully inserted himself into you. Your hole knew him all too well. It didn’t take much for your walls to wrap around him quickly.
You gasped softly once he was deep inside, mouth agape as you closed your eyes. He went at a normal pace — not too fast, not too slow.
A hand gently snaked around your neck, while the other held your waist. “I missed you so much, pretty. You know that?” He didn’t even give you a chance to respond before kissing you softly.
Everything was so gentle, like he actually cared for you. He focused more on pleasing you rather than himself. And as much as you appreciated it, you wanted more.
“Faster, please,” you commanded, feeling desperate. It was hypocritical for you to say that, when you always begged for slow sex. But, you couldn’t care less. He said it was all about what you wanted.
There wasn’t a word spoken as he quickened his pace. You choked back a moan, feeling the sensation. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. “Please,” you begged, “don’t hold back.”
Jaemin chuckled at your last words; something had switched in his eyes. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. “Okay, just make sure you keep up.”
You felt his words before you could even process them. Jaemin fixed his posture and drove himself deeper and quicker inside of you. Both hands gripped your waist tightly as he steadied himself.
Loud, pornographic moans escaped your lips as you arched your back. This was nothing like before. Ragged thrusts dragged his cock against your oversensitive walls as you lost your mind.
He didn’t stop, nor did he even consider it. You got him started, and he wasn’t going to finish until he got what he wanted.
Leaning down to kiss you sloppily, his hand found your hair. He tugged it harshly, continuing to abuse your hole.
“S-slow d-“ you faltered, but he didn’t let you finish.
“This is what you wanted, baby. I thought you could handle it?” His deep, sultry voice made matters worse. He had that evil smirk on his face; he knew what he was doing to you.
You couldn’t even speak. He was right — this *is* what you wanted. It’s exactly what you begged for. You can’t go back on your word, now.
Your throat began to ache as you continued to scream. A harsh spank to your ass made your body jump. That definitely left a mark.
“Been wanting to do this ever since that night,” he spoke in between his heavy breaths. You didn’t know how he had the stamina to even speak, right now. “Wanted to make it up to you so badly, but you were gone before I could say another word.”
He was right. You screamed and cried at him for what felt like hours. All of your anger and frustration was directed at him. You had your own opinion of how he felt about you, and you verbally expressed it that night, no matter what he told you.
You were out the door before he could even process anything. It started as just a heated conversation, and quickly unfolded into something far worse. He sat in his living room, dumbfounded as the silence filled the space.
“I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t care, because I do. I always have.”
He leaned down to kiss your cheek. “It’s just hard for me to show it.”
You couldn’t even form a single thought. What was he saying? You were too busy feeling him in your gut to even respond. Listening to him say all this while he tortured your hole felt unreal.
“I wish you knew how much I think about you every day,” he panted. “Your pretty face, sweet voice, soft skin. All of you.”
You whimpered hearing his words. Your chest heaved with rapid, uneven breaths as you felt your orgasm rushing towards you.
You were finally seeing the side of Jaemin that you yearned for — the side where he confessed all of his feelings to you. Maybe you weren’t just a body to him, after all.
He interlocked his fingers with yours, his eyes completely dazed as he met your gaze. He looked like he was love-drunk. Only for you.
“I’m so in love with you, Y/N. I can’t lie to myself, anymore. My love grows for you every single day.”
That last confession was all you heard before that familiar sensation from before started to ripple from your center and throughout your body. You softly wrapped your arms around him.
“J-Jaem, I’m close,” You warned, eyes closed shut. Your legs began to tremble and your body grew weak. A loud moan escaped your throat as your core grew sore.
“Shit- me too,” Jaemin shortly followed, driving so deep and precise inside of you. He groaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, disappointed that he couldn’t let go inside.
This was the rush that the two of you lived for — that addicting sensation you got from watching each other unravel. You yearned for it day after day. Tonight wasn’t just about sex; it was about the love and passion that you felt from it.
It was like you were back at the start, when the two of you first met. He might not have admitted it in the beginning, but the love between you was unreal. You clicked with him faster than anyone, as if you were made for each other. Your hearts were trapped from the start. Jaemin hadn’t realized it until now.
Shortly after your climax, he pulled out of you. He quickly pumped his shaft, releasing all of his liquids onto your stomach.
His figure dropped beside you once he finished. The two of you lay in silence for a while, catching your breaths.
“Jaem,” you were the first to break the silence. There was something on your mind. “Did you really mean what you said?”
You turned your head to look at him. He laid there, silent, eyes closed shut. You knew he heard you.
“Hm?” He feigned confusion, as if he didn’t know what you were referring to.
You sighed, shifting so that your entire body faced him. You lightly tapped his face, forcing his eyes open.
“When you said you were in love with me, were you being serious? Did you feel like you were obligated to say all of that? I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to force you to do anything you don’t w-“
Jaemin cut you off with a soft kiss, slowly pulling away as he wore a sweet smile. “You talk a lot; that’s another thing I love about you. And yes, I meant every single word.”
You were taken aback, your heart palpitating in your chest. Jaemin was the only man you saw for over a year, and he’s finally telling you how he feels.
“Wait- what time is it?” Jaemin began looking for his phone, as if something clicked in his mind.
You picked yours up from the floor; the time read 12:14 a.m. You didn’t know why it mattered, but you told him anyway.
“Okay, hold on. I’ll be right back.” Jaemin jumped off the bed and found his boxers, putting them off before rushing out his bedroom door.
You found the wet wipes on his bedside table as you cleaned yourself. He probably forgot that he made a big mess all over you.
The cold breeze brushed against your skin once you were finished. You located your clothes in the corner of the room, face-palming as you remembered how lost in the moment you both were.
You sat at the edge of the bed after redressing yourself. The time was now twelve twenty a.m., and you could hear Jaemin climbing back up the stairs.
The moment he walked in, your eyes widened as your mouth fell open.
A bouquet of glittery roses that were your favorite color, a giant white teddy bear, the matching sets that you had been wanting for months, your favorite chocolates, and a small pink gift bag.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.” Jaemin anticipated this moment for hours. He couldn’t wait to surprise you with all this stuff. Most of the items had been bought beforehand; he just didn’t know how he’d give them to you.
“Jaemin, you didn’t have to.” You couldn’t believe your eyes. He got all of this for you? You walked over to him, pulling him into your embrace.
“But I wanted to. You deserve it. I know I haven’t been the best person to you, and I really wanted to make up for it.”
Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. It had been a while since he did anything romantic for someone. He took his time studying you, and everything you liked just for this moment.
The matching sets were the first things you grabbed. You were about to wear them until they couldn’t be worn anymore.
He placed all the other items on the bed, and held that little gift bag like a delicate treat.
“Hey, open this.” He stood in front of you, nervous, like a little kid. You grabbed the bag, slowly opening it.
A black jewelry box became visible as you pulled it out. Your heart softened as you looked at what was inside.
A pink halo heart necklace displayed before you. The necklace that cost almost two hundred dollars? Seriously, how much did he spend on all of this?
Your eyes sparkled as you examined it. You didn’t understand what was going on. Your smile grew wide, showing all your teeth.
“How did you know I wanted this? How did you even know about the matching sets? Or my favorite chocolate?” You questioned, desperate for answers. There was never a time where you told him about your favorite things, or anything you wanted.
“Here, let me put this necklace on you.” Ignoring your questions, Jaemin grabbed the jewelry and walked behind you.
“It may not have been obvious, but I always wanted to learn more about you. I was just too afraid to say anything.” He began to speak, brushing your hair to the front so that your neck was visible.
“My last relationship was three years ago. It messed me up really badly. I didn’t date anyone else after that. I honestly stopped believing in love.”
You listened intently, not understanding why he was telling you any of this. But, you appreciated it. You always wanted to learn more about his past.
He sighed, bringing the jewelry around your neck and clamping it together. “That was until I met you.”
He walked over to face you again, that same determined look in his eyes as he licked his lips.
“You’ve changed my life, Y/n. I don’t give you enough credit for it. I spent all this time lying to myself about how I felt. But, my heart is with you. It’s been with you since we met.”
He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer. You were at a loss for words.
“I love you, Y/n, and I want to try love again. I want it to be with you.” He placed a soft kiss on your lips.
“Will you let me?”
He looked at you with hopeful eyes. Nothing felt real anymore. Jaemin was asking you to let him treat you the way you deserved. The same man who said he couldn’t see himself falling in love. The same man who had led you on for over a year.
Your heart pounded in your chest. You knew deep down in your heart that you deserved all of this, even if your mind told you otherwise. At least you weren’t going home sobbing, tonight.
You nodded, tears filling your eyes as you tightly hugged him. “I love you, more.”
He sighed in relief, burying his face in your neck. All of his worries went away at that moment. He finally listened to Jeno, and allowed himself to feel your love. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so free.
The two of you silently melted into each other’s arms after establishing your new relationship. You pulled away eventually, realizing that your question was left unanswered.
“You still haven’t told me how you knew about my favorite things and the stuff I wanted.” You squinted your eyes as you studied his expression.
He let out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say Renjun is a really good friend.”
“Ugh, that bitch.” You groaned, rolling your eyes. You smacked your teeth, knowing he was going to get an earful when you got home.
