➻ Previous Part - Part 17 - Next Part
➻ pairing: Jeongin x fem!reader
➻ authors note: guyyss… i know i said i would update yesterday but my best friend had an emergency and tumblr was the last thing on my mind. that’s the ugly truth but i’m also sorry that i kept you waiting… but it’s finally here: the JEONGIN SMUT for all you dirty little bitches (me included) hope you like it 🖤
➻ warnings: SMUT as in fingering (f receiving) unprotected sex (just don't!), squirting, slight dumbification, pet names, mirror sex, overstimulation, forced orgasm (kinda?? idk) softdom!Jeongin - minors do not interact
The change is not loud.
It doesn’t crash into the room or demand attention, it just settles there quietly, like warmth seeping into spaces that used to feel a little colder, and before you can even name it, it starts showing up in small things.
Constant things. Things you don’t know how to prepare for.
It starts in the morning.
You’re barely awake, still tangled in your blanket, when the door opens softly and someone slips inside without knocking, the mattress dipping slightly as a familiar presence settles beside you. You don’t open your eyes yet, but you feel it immediately, calm, steady, warm.
“Still sleeping?” Chan murmurs, his voice low and gentle. You hum something incoherent.
He chuckles softly, brushing your hair away from your face with slow fingers, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary before he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple.
“Good morning.”
It’s quiet and simple but it sinks deep. You turn slightly toward him without thinking, instinctively leaning into the warmth, and he lets you, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek before he finally stands.
“I’ll make you something,” he adds. You nod, already smiling.
Later, you’re in the kitchen, still waking up properly, when arms wrap around you from behind without warning.
No sound. No build-up. Just warmth. It’s solid.
You barely get a breath in before you’re pulled back against a firm chest, your body going still for half a second before relaxing immediately. Minho.
He doesn’t say anything, just holds you. His chin rests lightly near your shoulder, his grip steady, grounding in a way that makes your chest soften.
“…hi,” you murmur. A quiet hum answers.
His hand shifts slightly at your waist, thumb brushing once, absentminded, before his lips press softly to the top of your head. Quick but it lingers. You actually melt. He exhales quietly, like he noticed. Of course he did.
“…we’ll talk properly when you’re back from New York,” he says, low, calm, like it’s already decided. Your fingers curl against the counter.
“…okay.”
His arms loosen, not completely. Just enough.
Changbin is the opposite of subtle.
You’re walking through the living room, minding your business, when suddenly-
“Come here-”
You don’t even get to react before you’re lifted clean off the ground. “CHANGBIN!”
He laughs, loud and proud, one arm under your legs, the other around your back as he spins you once just because he can. “You’re too light,” he complains.
“I WAS WALKING-”
“And now you’re not.”
You smack his shoulder, laughing despite yourself as he carries you across the dorm like this is completely normal. “Put me DOWN-”
“In a minute.”
“You said that five minutes ago…”
“I lied.” Of course he did.
Hyunjin is quieter. But no less intense.
You’re sitting on the couch when he joins you, close enough that your knees brush, his presence soft but deliberate. Your eyes are focused on an indivisible spot on the wall, thoughts running through your mind, scenario after scenario.
“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs.
“I’m not-”
“You are.”
His hand lifts, gently tilting your chin toward him, his touch careful, almost reverent as he studies your face for a second.
Then he leans in. Slow. Unrushed.
His lips brush yours in a soft, lingering kiss that feels more like a promise than anything else, his hand steady against your jaw as you lean into it without thinking.
“Breathe,” he whispers. And you do.
Han has completely abandoned the concept of personal space. Like, at all.
You sit down for maybe three seconds before he’s already next to you, then leaning on you, then fully draped over you like a human blanket. “I missed you,” he mumbles.
“You saw me ten minutes ago.”
“That was ten minutes too long.” You snort. He grins. Then, without warning, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek. „You’re cute.”
“…you’re insane.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, not moving and you don‘t want him to.
Seungmin pretends he’s above all of it. He is not.
You’re reaching for something on the shelf when he steps in beside you and grabs it first, handing it to you like it’s nothing.
“Thanks.”
“Of course.”
You turn. He doesn’t move. You walk straight into him. “…move.”
“In a second.”
You narrow your eyes. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he leans down slightly, close enough that you can feel it before it happens, and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. Then another.
Then your lips. Deliberate.
You freeze. “…did you just-”
“Maybe,” he says calmly, finally stepping back.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” he tilts his head slightly, a faint smirk forming, “you said you love me.”
You choke. “I-”
“Interesting,” he hums, already walking away.
“You’re insufferable-”
“Still loved.”
You stare after him. Annoyed. Flustered. Very aware he did that on purpose. And very aware of the wetness gathering between your legs.
Felix is soft. Always.
You’re sitting together later, your head resting against his shoulder as his fingers trace slow patterns along your arm, absentminded, soothing.
“You okay?” he asks quietly. You nod. He doesn’t push. He never does.
Instead, he presses a gentle kiss into your hair, lingering there for a second. You turn your head and his thumb brushes over your jaw and cheek.
“I’m here.” You believe him.
Jeongin is dangerous in a quiet way. You almost miss it.
Almost.
You’re passing him in the hallway when his hand brushes yours, your fingers catching slightly before slipping apart again. You stop and turn.
He’s already looking at you. That small, knowing look.
“…did you just do that on purpose?” you ask.
His brows lift slightly. “Do what?”
You stare at him as he steps closer, not much, just enough. “Careful,” he murmurs, voice low, calm, “you’re starting to notice things.”
Your breath stutters. “You’re annoying,” you say, but it lacks conviction.
A faint smile touches his lips. “But you like it,” he reminds you quietly. And then he walks past you. Just like that. Leaving you standing there.
Thinking about it.
And somehow through all of it, it doesn’t feel overwhelming. It feels like home.
Messy. Warm. A little too much.
But yours.
Dinner is loud again. Of course it is. It always comes back to loud.
You’re halfway through your food when the thought slips out before you can overthink it. “…Someone should come with me.”
Everyone looks up.
“What?” Chan asks.
“To New York,” you add, a little more careful now. “I mean… if someone wants to and if your schedule allows it.” Silence.
Then-
“I’ll go!”
“No, I should go-”
“You’ll get lost…”
“I will NOT get lost!”
“You almost got lost in our own building.”
“Yah! That was ONE time!”
“Okay, okay-” Chan tries. Fails.
Changbin leans forward. “Okay but how do we decide which one of us..?”
“We could fight to the death,” Minho says casually between two bites which makes you giggle and he smirks your way.
“MINHO NO!”
He shrugs.
“…Rock, paper, scissors?” someone suggests. Everyone looks at each other.
“…Bet.”
And just like that… it’s chaos again.
The decision is made in the most ridiculous way possible, and honestly, you should have expected it. You really should have, because the second someone suggests rock-paper-scissors, the entire room shifts into chaos before anyone can even pretend to argue against it properly.
“There is no way we’re deciding this like that,” Seungmin says, already sounding exhausted, arms crossed like he wants to remove himself from the situation entirely.
“We absolutely are,” Changbin shoots back immediately, cracking his knuckles like this is a professional match instead of a group of grown men losing their minds. “It’s fair.”
“It’s not fair, it’s stupid.”
“It’s democratic,” Chan cuts in, already halfway to giving up as he rubs his face, fully aware this is happening whether he likes it or not.
Han is practically vibrating with excitement, already bouncing on his feet. “Okay, best out of three? Or tournament style??”
“Tournament,” Changbin says without hesitation.
“Of course you’d say that,” Seungmin mutters under his breath.
Felix claps softly, smiling like this is the best idea anyone has ever had, Hyunjin stepping closer despite himself, and Jeongin- Jeongin just leans back slightly in his chair, watching everything unfold with that same calm, observant look he always has.
You watch them for a second longer, taking in the noise, the overlapping voices, the way this is about to spiral into something completely unnecessary, and then you shake your head softly.
“…okay, you guys have fun,” you say, already stepping back toward the door, grabbing your bag without waiting for an answer. No need to be present if this turns apocalyptic.
“I’ll be in the studio. See you later.”
Someone protests, someone else shouts something about unfairness, Changbin is already calling for the first round, and you slip out before the chaos can pull you back in, the noise fading behind you as the hallway quiets again.
By the time you reach the smaller studio, everything feels different. Quieter. Focused.
The room is smaller than the one you usually use, the walls lined entirely with mirrors that reflect you from every angle, leaving nowhere to hide, no distractions to soften mistakes, just clean lines, posture, movement. It feels more like a ballet studio than a practice room, and that’s exactly why you like it, because it forces you to be precise, forces you to pay attention to everything.
The music plays low as you start moving, your body slipping into rhythm instinctively, every step measured, every shift of weight deliberate, your gaze flicking to your reflection as you correct, adjust, refine, repeating the sequence again and again until your breathing deepens and your thoughts begin to quiet.
You don’t notice how much time passes.
Until the door opens.
You don’t turn immediately because you already feel it, the shift in the air, the presence filling the space behind you, familiar in a way that makes your body register it before your mind does.
“…You’re off count,” his voice says lightly.
You stop, just for a second, before turning, catching his reflection in the mirror first before you face him fully. Jeongin leans against the doorframe like he’s been there longer than he has, relaxed, composed, like he belongs in this space, his gaze steady as it moves over you.
“I’m not,” you say, a little breathless but firm.
His lips twitch slightly. “You are.”
He pushes himself off the wall and steps inside, the door clicking shut behind him as he approaches without hesitation, stopping just close enough to make your breath catch, your reflection now holding both of you side by side.
“You’re rushing here,” he murmurs, his hand lifting before settling lightly at your waist, adjusting your stance with careful precision that feels far too natural. Your breath stutters.
“There,” he says quietly.
You glance at the mirror, and of course he’s right, your shoulders relaxing slightly as you exhale. “…You’re annoying.”
“I know.”
The silence that follows isn’t empty, it stretches, warm and slow, something shifting underneath it as you turn your attention back to him instead of your reflection, studying him now.
“You came here just to correct me?”
“No,” he says. A small pause follows before he adds, “I came to tell you I won.”
It takes a second for that to register, your expression softening when it does.
“You’re coming to New York with me?”
“Yeah.”
Relief flickers across your face before you can stop it, your shoulders dropping slightly as you nod. “Good.” You were hoping to spend some alone time with him. His gaze catches that immediately, like he always does, like he stores every reaction without needing to ask for it.
“They used to make us practice here,” he says after a moment, his tone shifting slightly, quieter now, more reflective. “Back when we were trainees.”
You glance around again, taking in the small space, the mirrors, the closeness of it all. “It’s… small.”
“For eight people?” he huffs softly. “Yeah.” A faint smile touches his lips. “But it made us closer.”
Your gaze returns to him. “How?”
He shrugs. “Had to endure each other. Han and Hyunjin used to fight all the time,” he says, almost amused. “Over everything and nothing.”
You snort softly. “I can see that.”
“Chan was so different back then. Strict,” he continues. “Really strict. No mistakes, no excuses. I sometimes barley recognise him- he‘s so… warm now.“ A smile spreads on both of your faces. That tracks.
“And you?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. There’s a pause, brief but noticeable.
“I didn’t talk much,” he says. “I was shy. Just… watched. Tried to learn as much as possible in a short time, to impress them.”
You study him for a moment longer before stepping a little closer, something softer, more curious slipping into your voice.
“Well,” you murmur lightly, “that changed.”
His head tilts slightly. “Did it?”
You nod, your gaze steady on his. “You’re still quiet.” Another step closer. “But you’re not shy anymore.”
That lands differently. Something in his expression shifts, subtle but real, not louder, not more expressive, just… grounded, certain in a way that wasn’t there before.
“You think so?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah. I do.”
The space between you feels smaller now, heavier, something building underneath it as your confidence pushes forward just enough to test him.
“You think you have me figured out,” you add, your voice dropping slightly, your lips curving just enough. “Don’t you?”
He watches you longer this time, his gaze steady, unreadable in a way that makes your pulse pick up. Then he also steps closer.
Not rushed. Not hesitant either.
“I don’t think,” he murmurs. Your breath falters. “I know.”
You feel it. The shift.
“…prove it,” you whisper.
Something in his expression shifts, subtle but decisive, like a line has been crossed and there’s no point pretending otherwise anymore, his hand tightening at your waist just slightly before he moves, quick and effortless, lifting you like you weigh nothing at all.
A soft gasp escapes you, surprised, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as your balance disappears for a second, your body reacting before your mind can catch up, your breath catching as his brows lift just slightly, that quiet, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
He doesn’t put you down but keeps you there. Held. Close. So close your noses almost brush.
“Prove it?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost amused, his breath warm against your lips as his grip steadies you effortlessly. “Baby… I have nothing to prove.”
Your pulse spikes. His gaze drops to your mouth for a second before lifting again, slower this time, heavier. “But I have a lot to give you.” Your breath falters. And then he closes the distance.
The kiss isn’t hesitant, not testing, not unsure, it lands warm and certain, his mouth moving against yours with a confidence that makes your thoughts scatter immediately, your fingers tightening against him as your body leans in without thinking, drawn closer by something that feels inevitable.
He’s still holding you. Still standing.
The angle shifts slightly as you adjust, your breath slipping between the kiss, your heart racing as it deepens, not rushed, not rough, just… fuller, like he’s taking his time on purpose, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what it’s doing to you.
And then-
it changes.
Not abruptly but unmistakably. His grip firms, one hand steady at your waist as he turns, carrying you with him without breaking the kiss, every step controlled, deliberate, until the back of his legs meet the sofa and he lowers himself down, guiding you with him in one smooth motion.
You land on his lap, straddling him. Your hands still on his shoulders, your breath uneven, your body reacting before your mind can even try to catch up with what just happened.
He doesn’t pull away, not immediately.
The kiss lingers, softer now but no less intense, his thumb brushing lightly against your side in a slow, deliberate motion that makes your breath hitch again before he finally leans back just enough to look at you.
Really look at you.
Close enough that there’s no space left for anything but him.
“You talk a lot when you’re confident,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now but still steady, his hands resting at your waist like he has no intention of letting you go. Your heart pounds.
“And you,” he adds softly, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes, his thumb tracing that same slow line against your side, “you stop thinking.”
Your breath catches. Because he’s right. Again.
His gaze lingers, waiting, not asking, just giving you that split second of control. You don’t take it.
And that’s all he needs.
He leans in again, slower this time, more deliberate, like he’s fully aware of every reaction he’s pulling from you now, the kiss deepening with intention, with control, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist to keep you exactly where you are.
On him. With him. And completely caught in him.
You feel his hand wandering up your back, toward your neck before firmly grabbing it, holding you in position. When he pulls back, his lips are mere inches from yours and you feel his breath as he whispers:
“Strip for me, princess.”
Your eyes open wide and you still for a second, your fingers clawing into his shirt at his shoulders. You quickly look around at all the mirrors surrounding you and then back to his face-
a small smirk forms on his lips.
“Don’t be shy. Do it.” His tongue darts out to lick his lip and your eyes follow the movement. “Now.”
You awkwardly climb down from his lap and get into position in front of him before you slowly start to shimmy out of your clothes, one by one.
First is your shirt. You pull it slowly over your head and drop it to the floor. Before embarrassment can settle in, you continue, already reaching behind to unclasp your bra. The white lace fabric glides over your arms and falls to the floor next to your shirt, leaving you bare-chested in front of him.
You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and look up to meet his eyes. They’re focused on yours- not your boobs, but your face; the pinkish tint on your cheeks and your slightly parted lips. Jeongin’s head tilts a bit to the side while he adjusts his sitting posture; he’s fully manspreading in front of you, hands resting casually on his thighs, a glint in his eyes that sends shivers down your spine.
But also encourages you.
Your fingers hook inside your yoga pants and you slowly drag them down your legs, stepping out of them until you’re only in your lace panties with the small pink bow at the front. His eyes dart down and linger for a second on the dainty accessory, and you could swear you see him swallow in response.
He reaches out one hand toward you. “Come here.” You do.
He guides you back onto his lap and you feel his already hard member against your barely clothed sex. A small gasp escapes you, which makes him hum before pulling you flush against his lips once again-devouring your mouth until it’s a tangled mess of tongue, teeth, and spit.
“Jeongin-” you gasp as his hips buck against you, and he hums.
“I know. Patience,” he mumbles against the corner of your mouth, placing small kisses there and down your neck.
“I don’t want patience…” you whine, your fingers finding his hair, gently tugging on the soft strands, making him chuckle darkly.
“I know that, too. You’re so impatient, princess.”
“Haven’t you teased me enough already? You’ve been doing it for weeks.” A small pout dances around your lips.
“Hm,” he hums and grabs your chin so you look him straight in the eyes. “And what exactly is it that you want; My fingers? Mouth? My cock?”
You gasp at his sudden straightforwardness and blink, and he chuckles.
“Cute.”
His arm wraps around your waist, lifts you up from his lap, and turns you around so you’re suddenly straddling him backwards.
“What-” you ask, but his hands are already glued to your waist, a strong grip that does not hurt, though.
His lips are beside your ear when he whispers, “How about you take what I give you, lamb, if you can take it.” One hand turns your head toward the mirror in front of you, and suddenly it’s all so clear what the bigger picture is:
This is going to be different than with anyone else, because he is different. Just like Jeongin is always watching, now you’re watching as well. Everything.
“Eyes on yourself. If you look away, I’ll stop.” His voice is firm now, a dark underlying tone that demands dominance without screaming it.
You just nod, and then-
you feel it.
His hand between your legs, pushing the damp fabric of your panties to the side. His long fingers run through your glistening folds and you stare at your own reflection while his head rests on your shoulder.
Calm. Collected. In control.
Jeongin’s fingers circle around your entrance, teasing the small opening without actually entering. He wanders toward your clit, exploring all your sensitive areas, and you let out a gasp when he finally circles the small nub, rubbing it in slow but firm circles. You get lost for a second and close your eyes, and the sensation immediately stops-
you notice your mistake, quickly opening them again and finding yourself in the mirror.
“Ts, ts, ts…”
He tuts, a small smirk dancing around his lips. “S-sorry…” you mumble back, and his fingers give a slight flick to your clit, which earns him a sharp inhale from you.
Jeongin watches your flushed face in the mirror; the way your eyes want to flutter shut, to give in, but you try to fight against it. The way your chest rises and falls with each flick of his fingers, the way your nipples perk up because of the cool air inside the studio. You look absolutely divine, and it drives him crazy.
Your eyes watch as his fingers move through your folds, gathering enough slick until they press against your tight entrance, asking for entry. Your legs move by themselves, opening wider for him, which earns you a hum of approval from him.
“Good girl. Let’s see if you can continue to use that smart brain of yours…”
And with that, he pushes two of his long digits inside you, curling them right up against your sweet spot while his other hand remains on your waist, pushing you further down. Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out; you literally choke on nothing as he starts to quicken the pace, scissoring his fingers against your walls, opening you up for him.
“Hm? No smart remark or comeback? I just had to fuck you with my fingers to shut up the brat in you?” he hums beside your ear, his voice low and steady as if he’s not knuckle-deep inside you right now. You nod absentmindedly, not even fully comprehending what he said.
Your eyes are still fixed on your own reflection, and the sight alone makes you clench in return. Your first orgasm builds quickly, and just as you’re about to come, he withdraws his fingers fully, making you whine loudly in protest.
“Jeongin!” you huff, finding his eyes in the mirror, an amused expression on his face, but there is something else as well. He’s not as unbothered as he pretends to be- his lips are parted, pupils fully blown, and he is rock hard beneath you.
So you decide to tease back, just a little roll of your hips against his still-clothed dick, and you can see his composure slipping.
Both of his hands grab your waist and hold you still when you roll against him again. Your eyes meet in the mirror and you smirk.
“Feeling confident, huh?” he asks, and you shrug. “A little.” But your confidence starts to slip when his hand disappears beneath his waistband, pushing his joggers down just enough to free his length. Shit.
“Oh? What is it, lamb?” he asks softly while slowly stroking his intimidating cock. “Is your confidence slipping?”
You huff. “As if…” But it doesn’t sound convincing at all.
“Let’s see how long the brat in you lasts…” he mumbles against your ear, and you swallow. You don’t even know what position you should take him in best, but he’s already reading your mind like an open book, chuckling lowly in return. “Exactly like this.”
And then he pushes inside.
You’ve never had your eyes roll back before- you always thought it was exaggerated in porn, but right now? Yeah. You’re literally speechless as you’re impaled on his cock.
He sets a fast pace, one hand holding you down so he can drive himself even deeper inside you, his other hand resting against your lower abdomen before pressing down slightly, making you release a small cry.
“Holy shit-” he mumbles, eyes glued to the two bodies in the mirror as he watches every reaction your face gives away. His hand finds your hair, loosely gathering it into a ponytail and pulling your head back so your neck is fully exposed to him. His teeth sink into the soft skin, biting, licking, and kissing the flesh before he starts sucking hard.
He only stops when he’s satisfied with the dark purple mark forming on your neck, all while fucking into you relentlessly.
“Jeongin, I’m c-close…” you manage to stutter, and he hums.
“Look at you-” he mumbles in your ear. You already are, unable to look away from your reflection. “My dumb little baby. Always so smart and witty, and now fucked dumb on my cock-”
His dirty talk hits different. You never thought you’d hear him talk like that, but it turns you on so much, your high approaching dangerously fast. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing the small nub as your walls begin to clench down on him. Jeongin curses as your cunt grips him tightly, pulling him deeper in, ready to milk him dry.
Your legs shake uncontrollably as your orgasm rips through you, a loud moan echoing through the studio as your fingers dig into his thighs. “Oh my god, oh my god-”
You try to pry his hand away from your overstimulated cunt, but he chuckles and grabs both of your hands, holding them behind your back.
“Too much! I c-can’t-” you whine, still trembling on top of him, but he keeps going, brushing your cervix with the tip of his length over and over.
“I know there’s one more in you…” he coos in your ear, holding your arms firmly behind your back as he rubs your clit again, making you let out a strangled scream, almost choking from the overstimulation.
But he’s right. You feel it. Under the sharp, stinging sensation, there’s heat again. And it builds.
“Come on, princess, gimme one more…”
And with that, it breaks-
You hear it before you realize what’s happening, the faint splashing sound making you look at the mirror, staring in shock as you squirt all over his fingers, his cock, his joggers, the sofa.
Your vision turns white as another orgasm tears through you, overwhelming every nerve before you finally collapse on top of him.
Jeongin’s eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, and it pushes him over the edge too; one sharp thrust before he stills, buried deep inside you as he releases, spurt after spurt of cum, filling you to the brim.
It’s quiet now. Only your heavy breathing fills the room. He carefully releases your arms and pulls you flush against his chest, his face buried against your back.
“I love you.”
It’s faint. A whisper. Barely audible. But it’s deafening between the two of you.
You smile to yourself before reaching weakly behind you, tangling your fingers in his hair.
“I know.”
And you do. Because even though Jeongin may be quiet and observant-
his love isn’t.
➻ Eightfold series taglist:
@thatgirlangelb @gloriajovicc @fallonnx99 @lilike07 @daddyyy88 @daphnnie @theclassbookworm @mysticetti @thicccurls @nur-nyx @foxiebread @bookswillfindyouaway @staaaa4 @certifiedchangbinluver @jackkiixx @essiexxz
[If you want to be added to the taglist pls leave a comment or message me directly]
➻ You'll only find my work posted here, Wattpad and on my AO3 blog. I don't give consent for my work to be re-posted (in any language) onto any other platform, even if it is with credit. Thank you.
