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.
summary: ghostface jaemin and jeno want you all to themselves
a/n: happy halloween!!! i honestly just wanted to post this because i like having both ghostface fics having connected titles lmao though they aren't necessarily connected (but they could be) i do still have the skz demon fic to post so that will come this weekend or next week. anyway hope you've enjoyed this month's fics!!
cw: (minors dni) smut, yandere vibes fr, mentions of death and murder, no explicit depictions of the deaths, choking (sexy), unprotected p in v + creampie (be safe), reader is a freak who wants to fuck nomin, boyfriend!mark, technically cheating with nomin but like...... not for long, oral (receiving)
wc: 4.2k
“Hi, angel,” Jaemin says, joining you on your walk to your 11am class.
“Hi, Jaemin. You’re lucky Mark’s not here– you know he hates it when you call me that.”
“Lucky? What’s he gonna do about it? You are an angel– an angel who still needs to dump their boyfriend and get with me.”
“I’m not going to dump him, Jaemin. Keep dreaming,” you smile, rolling your eyes at his antics.
“Yeah, yeah yeah–” he mutters as you two walk up to the main university building only to see that it’s swarmed by police officers.
“Officer, what happened?” Jaemin asks a beat cop as you two walk closer to the scene.
“This place is a crime scene. Now, move along,” he states, not wanting to give any further details.
“A crime scene??” you repeat. You both walk closer to the crowd only to hear whispers of what’s happened.
“I can’t believe it-”
“Who would do this?”
“She was practically gutted!”
Gutted? You felt sick. Someone was murdered? On campus, You get deeper into the crowd only to be faced with the body of the deceased. Unfortunately, you recognize her. It’s your best friend, Winter. You have to hold on to Jaemin to keep you upright. Your body is hit with a wave of nausea and you turn your head into himto stop yourself from looking at the body.
“Come on,” he says, taking you away. He led you to a secluded spot on campus so that you could be alone. Once you sit down, the dam breaks and tears flood your eyes. You don’t understand how this could happen. You just talked to her last night, and now she’s gone. Killed. Gutted. You’ll never be able to remove that image from your mind. Jaemin maintains silence as he lets you cry it out, rubbing your back. He grins. You’re already running straight into his arms. The plan is working perfectly.
It’s the one year anniversary of campus murders that went unsolved, and Jaemin and Jeno were film majors who saw a perfect opportunity for a… remake, if you will. However, over the course of the year, they became obsessed with you. This infatuation shifted into something twisted and their desire to kill became intertwined with their fixation on you. This completely changed the direction they were going in and what their plans were, thus Jaemin comforting you right now.
You eventually decide to get up and join your friend group since they’re anxious check in on you based off of what the group chat is saying. As you walk up, Jaemin has his arm wrapped around your waist, and Mark glares at him, which you don’t notice.
“Hey, baby, are you okay?” Mark asks, practically ripping you away from Jaemin and pulling you into him instead.
“I just can’t believe it. I don’t know that I ever will believe it,” you sniffle.
“Did they interrogate you yet?” Mark asks Jaemin, shifting the attention away from you.
“No– I didn’t even know that they were interrogating us,” he says surprised, “I’ve been with Y/N since we found out.” Mark’s jaw tenses at this admission.
“Were all of you interrogated?” Jaemin asks the rest of the group.
“Yes, and I was terrified,” Jisung replies.
“Why were you terrified? Did you do it?” Jeno teases.
“Wh-what? No! No, of course not! Y/N, you know I didn't, right?”
“Yes, Ji. I know you didn’t,” you reassure and he sighed heavily.
“God, Jeno, can you not mess around right now? Our friend is dead,” Giselle slaps Jeno’s chest.
“Did they ask if you’ve ever been hunting?” Jeno asks, ignoring Giselle.
“Yes! I was very happy to say that I have not,” Jisung comments.
“Wait, they didn’t ask me that,” Giselle says confused.
“Of course they didn’t. Winter was gutted. It would take a man to do that,” Jeno says with a cocky grin.
Giselle starts arguing with Jeno about whether or not a woman could have killed Winter, but your attention shifts elsewhere. Sunwoo, a friend of yours in your major, walks up and pulls you into a hug.
“Hey, sweetie. I heard about Winter- are you okay?” he asks. His face is full of concern when he pulls away from yout and his hands rest on your shoulders.
“I’m still processing it. Thanks for checking in,” you reply.
“I’m here if you need anything, you know that right? You have my number, so please reach out,” he says genuinely and hugs you again before he leaves. You check your phone for the time and realize it’s time for your second class of the day.
“I guess I should go,” you say to the group.
“I’ll walk you,” Mark pipes up before anyone else can offer, and the rest of the group wish you some variation of ‘It’ll be okay, hope you feel better’.
As you walk away, Jaemin asks Jisung: “Hey, who’s that guy Y/N just talked to?”
“Oh that’s Sunwoo. He’s in Y/N’s major. They have like a bunch of classes together, and they’re actually really good friends…” Jisung trails off, a little bit confused that they don’t know who Sunwoo is.
“How come we’ve never heard of him?” Jeno asks.
“I don’t know, maybe you guys just don’t pay attention… Or maybe it’s because you guys are like overprotective bodyguards and she didn’t want you to know.”
Jeno shoots Jaemin a look that neither Giselle or Jisung catch.
You’re home alone missing two out of your three classes. You missed your first class and skipped your last class, and you honestly weren’t sure if you would even be going tomorrow. You’re laying in bed when all of a sudden your scrolling is interrupted by a call. From Winter.
What? How can you be getting a call from Winter? You decide to answer it, not knowing what to expect.
“Hello?”
Nothing. But the other line isn’t muted or anything. The connection is just fine, in fact, you can hear breathing.
“Who is this?” you cry out, “I can hear you breathing, creep.”
“Hello, Y/N,” a strange voice says. It’s not a voice you recognize at all.
“Who are you? Why do you have Winter’s phone?”
“Are you scared? A murder on campus. Fear among the students It’s almost like a remake of last year, a horror movie if you will… do you like horror movies?”
“Oh God, not this shit. This isn’t funny, fucker. Leave me alone and give Winter’s phone back,” you snarl, hanging up. Instantly, Winter’s contact pops up on your phone screen.
“Hell–”
“If you hang up on me again, you’ll die just like Winter. Do you wanna die? Winter sure didn’t–”
You gulp, staying silent. Jaemin is relishing in this fear. You’re so cute, not realizing who’s calling you. Not knowing that soon you’ll be all theirs.
“Now… what’s your favorite scary movie?”
“I don’t know– maybe IT (2017)? It was sort of more of an adventure movie, but some of the jump scares were fun,” you reply shakily, sitting on the edge of your bed.
“You don’t like the classics? Halloween, Friday the 13th, When a Stranger Calls? Do you think Sunwoo likes the classics?”
“Sunwoo? What does he have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I mean, I just don’t really care for the concept of ‘the call is coming from inside the house.’” you say laying back down. “If you’re stuck in the house with someone, why wouldn’t you call the police or simply run out and run as far as you can for some help? They always force themselves into easily avoidable situations.”
“So, do you think if you were to stay on your bed, I wouldn’t be able to grab you? Your house isn’t very big,” the voice says.
Your blood runs cold. You stand up, looking out the window, and find that there’s nothing and no one there. Your closet door is closed, and all of a sudden your fear of the closet has grown insurmountably.
“Who is this? Why are you doing this?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was Winter?” the voice laughs.
“Fuck off, asshole,” you yell out.
“You’re scared aren’t you? To check?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re scared to see if I’m in your closet.”
“No, of course I’m not.”
“Then do it. Make sure I’m not in the closet.”
You slowly walk up as he taunts you. You grab your metal water bottle to use as a weapon if necessary. You open the door, and there’s nothing there. You sigh relieved and say “There’s nothing there asshole, goodbye.”
All of the fear and talking to a freak prank caller made you thirsty. You open your door to go grab a drink from the kitchen, and you see a cloaked figure staring down at you. By instinct, you kick him in the balls and run out of your house as fast as you can only to run straight into Jeno, nearly tackling him to the ground.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s wrong?” he says, looking into your eyes and checking for injuries.
“There was– the killer!” you exclaim out of breath before looking back at your house and seeing there was no one there.
“It looks like whoever it is ran off,” he says, as Jaemin walks up.
“Wait, what are you guys doing here?” you ask confused.
“We thought you might want some company, so we already ordered your favorite and we thought we could watch some movies to get your mind off of everything.”
You pout, and the boys think it’s so cute. “Thank you guys. I love you, you’re the best.”
As you turn to walk back inside the house, the boys smirk at each other as they trail behind.
You let the boys sleep over since they thought you maybe needed protection considering there was a murderer on the loose. The next morning you decide you definitely aren’t going to school, so you decide to go back to sleep but Mark suddenly bursts into your room.
“Oh my god, thank god you’re okay, holy fuck–”
“What? Of course I’m okay… What’s wrong?”
“Sunwoo was found dead this morning.”
Sunwoo? The freak who called you really was the killer.
You find out that Sunwoo was found dead in his apartment, horrifically murdered. You’re crying again because he was a good friend of yours, and now it feels like it’s your fault. Should you have warned him? Why did the killer mention him to you? Mark doesn’t stay for long, but Jeno picks up the slack and offers to stay with you for the rest of the day. You break down and cry to him about how it has to be your fault. The killer mentioned Sunwoo to you on the phone and now he’s dead. He reassures you and says:
“No, gorgeous, it’s not your fault. Don’t do this to yourself. You can’t control other people’s actions–”
“What else am I supposed to think, Jeno?” you sob.
“Hey… how about I host everyone at my house tonight? Maybe we drink a little and we spend time together. Our little community. How does that sound?”
You get to Jeno’s house, and everyone’s drinking. Jisung and Giselle don’t get too fucked up since they have early classes the next day. They call an Uber to get back to the dorms. Jaemin feels sick and goes upstairs to either throw up or sleep it off, which leaves you downstairs with Jeno and Mark.
You’re still very emotional and in the middle of the movie, you decide to go to the back yard and get some air. You cry a little bit, so distressed and sad about the deaths of your friends and what it all means. Once you stop crying, you wipe your eyes and check your appearance in your camera to make sure you don’t have any obvious signs that you’ve shed tears. When you walk back inside, you find that there’s no one there.
“Guys? Hello? …where’d you guys go?” you ask. An unsettled feeling floods your system, and you know that something is deeply wrong. All the lights turn off, and you hear a scream. You haphazardly back yourself into a corner and turn on your phone flashlight to see if you can make out anyone or anything. The lights in the house then turn on as you get a call from Winter again.
“What the fuck do you want?” you scream.
“Oh, don’t be so mean. I liked our little meeting yesterday. Were you nervous? I was nervous,” the voice says and you can hear his smug grin through the phone.
“Shut the fuck up– what did you do with my friends?”
“Oh well, I’m not sure where everyone else went, but I know where one of them is,” he singsongs, and just then, the lights outside turn on. Jaemin is ducttaped to a chair looking beaten and bloodied. His head is lolling back and forth. When he makes eye contact with you, a look of terror passes through his eyes and he starts screaming through the ducttape.
“Oh my god– Jaemin!” you cry out, reaching out to open the door to the backyard.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ghostface says.
“Fuck,” you hiss through gritted teeth.
“If you want your precious friend to live, I'm going to need you to answer some horror trivia questions, darling.”
“What kind of fuckshit is this? Who are you– what the fuck?”
“Do you want your friend to die?” the voice monotones.
“I don’t know anything about scary movies!!” you insist, watching Jaemin look horrified as he scans the backyard looking for the killer.
“Who is the author of IT?”
“Stephen King!!”
“See? You do know how to play. Now, for the first question–”
“That’s not fair! That should count as the first question–”
“What’s the name of the killer in Nightmare on Elm Street?”
“Freddy Krueger!!”
“Good job. What is the name of the hotel from The Shining?”
“Fuck… um…” you struggle to remember the name and you take too much time to think about it.
“Whoops, looks like you’re outta time–”
“No, please! One question, please give me one more question.” you sob.
“Fine. What’s the name of the serial killer in The Silence of the Lambs?”
“That’s a trick question, asshole. There are two serial killers– Buffalo Bill and Hannibal Lecter! That’s it, right? I got it right?”
Jaemin looks off to the side and then looks back at you as if you have the ok to proceed. You run out to him, terrified.
“Fuck, Jaem, are you okay? Oh my god, I can’t believe I won. I can’t believe that just happened–” you gently remove the duct tape, effectively untying him. He stands up and covers your mouth and nose with a rag doused in chloroform.
“I know, angel. You did so good. You did exactly what we wanted you to–” and the last thing you see before your eyes close is his maniacal smile staring down at you.
You wake up in Jeno’s bed, your wrists tied to the headboard, and you see Mark with duct tape over his mouth, his limbs tied up with rope. Ghostface walks in with his knife in the air as if he’s going to kill Mark, and you scream and fight and pull against your restraints until Jaemin comes into view, completely disorienting you.
“We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, baby.”
“We?”
“Hi gorgeous,” Jeno says, taking off the mask.
“Why?” you say, tears welling up in your eyes, “Why did you guys do this? I don’t understand.”
“Well, it really all started a year ago when the first murders on campus happened. When no one was caught, it seemed like anyone could get away with murder,” Jeno replies plainly.
“Jeno and I had always talked about murder. I mean, we’re perfect partners in crime, obviously, but then you happened. We figured we could kill 2 birds with one stone. We could kill for you,” Jaemin says in the same tone as a confession of love.
“Why did you have to kill them? Why didn’t you just kill me?!” you yell.
“Oh, angel. We didn’t want to kill you. We want to keep you.” Jaemin clarifies.
“Winter was trying to keep you away from us,” Jeno adds, “Technically, only her and Mark were supposed to die, though Jisung was on thin fucking ice. But then– Sunwoo. He just happened to come up and give you heart eyes. He was definitely trying to fuck you it was obvious,” Jeno huffs, getting angry again just thinking about it.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Why did you need to kill Winter? Please don’t kill Mark,” you beg.
“Mark takes you for granted, gorgeous. He deserves to be punished. Winter was an unfortunate casualty, but she had to go because she was proving to be an obstacle. She would deliberately try to take you away from us and tried to discourage you from spending time with us. Now there’s nothing in our way–”
You squirm and tug at your restraints again, trying to break free.
“Come on, gorgeous. Don’t act like you haven't thought about us this way,” Jeno says, coming to your side and trailing a finger up your thigh.
“Before you started dating Mark, he told us about those… dreams that you had–” Jaemin adds.
You feel blood rush to your face, and you try to hide your face.
“No, angel, don’t be shy,” Jaemin comforts, “We’re going to make your dreams come true.”
Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily and the boys smirk at each other.
“See? You want us. You always have,” Jeno says diving into you and crashing his lips against yours. You hesitate at first but quickly melt into the kiss. He moves down and starts kissing your neck leaving love bites in his wake, marking you so everyone who sees you knows you’re his. He inspects his handiwork and growls at the sight. Jaemin decides it’s his turn now and moves to kiss you as well. Where Jeno was aggressive and passionate, Jaemin is sensual and methodical.
Both men have their hands wandering all over your body as their mouths leave kisses and marks on any exposed skin. Jaemin notices that your thighs are still rubbing against each other and he smiles.
“Are you ready to give in now, angel?” Jaemin asks. You freeze. Your body is begging for you to give in and let two of your best friends take control of your body. But every cell in your body is screaming at you right now because your friends are insane. They are killers. Your boyfriend is currently in the corner of the room watching this all unfold. But god they’re so hot.
“We aren’t going to do anything without your consent, gorgeous. We aren’t monsters.” Jeno stressed.
“This is so fucked up,” you whisper. “Yes.”
Jaemin smiles like a proud father. “Yes what?”
You squeeze your eyes shut and say, “Yes, I want you both.”
Both men bite back moans at how easily you were willing to let them play with you. Jeno kisses you again, moaning into your mouth as Jaemin pulls down your bottoms. He doesn’t even bother to tease you. Both of your friends have been so desperate to have you, and he thinks he’ll have time to tease you later, once Mark is dead.
“You’re so wet, angel. Is that for us?” You moan ‘yes’ into Jeno’s mouth, and Jaemin seems pleased by that answer because he inserts a finger while he sucks on your clit. Your moans increase, and you can’t get over how good it feels. It might just be the high stakes and being tied up, but nothing has ever felt as good as this.
“More,” you whine as you break apart from Jeno’s lips before quickly returning. Jaemin adds another finger without hesitation and massages the soft spot inside you, causing your back to arch. Jeno pulls up your shirt so that he can suck one nipple while using his hand to play with the other, giving both equal stimulation as he alternates. Before you know it, Jaemin has 3 fingers in you and in combination with Jeno’s stimulation on your tits, you release and spasm around Jaemin’s fingers, letting out pornstar like moans. As you come down, you make eye contact with Mark and he looks so distraught. Jeno and Jaemin follow your line of sight and look incredibly smug.
“Aw, is Markie getting jealous because he’s never been able to get those sounds out of you?” Jeno jokes.
“Let’s see what sounds we can get you to make when we impale you on our cocks. How does that sound?” Jaemin asks, and your back arches just at the thought. “I’ll take you first, and then Jeno can go after. He’s bigger–”
Jaemin gets in between your legs and lines himself up with your entrance, slowly sliding in until he’s buried to the hilt. The stretch is like none other and you can’t even imagine what it’ll feel like when you take Jeno.
“You know what? I don’t think Mark deserves to see this,” Jeno says, “I’ll be right back.”
Jaemin doesn’t even acknowledge Jeno’s comment and doesn’t even notice Jeno dragging Mark out of the room. He’s so focused on how tight you are wrapped around him, and he’s holding his breath.
“Fuck, angel. Please relax. You’re squeezing me so tight,” Jaemin hisses. He starts rubbing your clit and you only squeeze around him more. However, with enough stimulation you relax and are desperate for him to move. He can tell what you need based off of the look in your eyes and soon he’s fucking into you, mumbling about how good you feel. He’s so turned on that he is quickly approaching his high, but he’s desperate to feel you cum on his cock.
“Please, angel– need to feel you,” he pleads, thumb rubbing circles on your clit. The stimulation snaps the cord in your tummy and you pulse around him as you cream his cock. The sensation of you squeezing and fluttering around him leaves him shooting ropes of white deep in your heat. His thrusts slow and his head rests on your shoulder. He catches his breath and litters your shoulder and neck in kisses before giving you one final peck. You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t even realize that Jeno had walked back in.
“That was such a good show, gorgeous,” Jeno says with a darkness in his eyes. “Do you think you’re ready for me?”
“Mmhmm,” you reply.
“Don’t tell me you’re already cockdrunk, baby,” Jeno teases and all you can do is giggle. He takes this as his cue to untie you so you can lay comfortably on his bed.
You lay down and he takes this opportunity to take off your top leaving you completely naked for him. He lines himself up and slams into your cunt. You moan loudly at the intrusion, and he continues aggressively rutting into you. Just like kissing, both men’s methods are completely different. Jeno wraps a hand around your throat and the pressure makes you clench around him, only making him pound into you harder.
“God, of course you like that. You’re so fucking dirty. You’re letting your two best friends fuck you after they confessed to murder. You’re just as fucked up as us,” Jeno hisses as he drills his cock into you as deep and fast as he can. His words only make you squeeze him tighter and he groans at how good you feel.
“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. Were you in need of a good fucking? It seems like Mark never fucked you the way he should’ve been,” Jeno grits through his teeth, squeezing your throat even more. “God, he was such a loser. He couldn’t even fuck you right, fuck. I will never stop paying attention to this sweet pussy.”
That last sentence is enough to give you a blinding orgasm. All you see is white and you feel hot pleasure radiating throughout your body. The feeling of you cumming around his cock and the knowledge that you’re all his now brings Jeno to his orgasm and he spills into you, his release mixing with Jaemin’s inside you.
You’re so lost in subspace that you are just pliant as the boys clean you up and cuddle up right next to you. They start talking about how glad they are about the way things turned out and the plans they have. Suddenly, you’re ripped out of post-coital bliss and are painfully aware that you are sandwiched between two extremely dangerous men.
“Jeno, tell her the best part!” Jaemin hinted excitedly.
“Baby, we’ve already set it all up. It’s going to look like you and Mark did the murders. We’re going to move away because you can never come back here or go out in public again! And Mark's dead!”
Your heart drops.
“Why would you do that?! How is that good???”
“Because now,” he says as if explaining it to a child, “You have to stick with us. We’re gonna take such good care of you, baby, and no one will ever need to see you again besides us.”
Jeno gets up to lock the bedroom door before returning to bed. Jaemin pulls you closer to him as he gets ready to fall asleep, and you accept that there is no escape.
hi hi could you i request some really perv and gross jaemin pretty please? 🥺🤍
yuck!
warnings: smut, mdni, mature themes, unprotected sex please don’t angels, rough sex, porn watching, sex toys, bigdick!jaemin duh, dirty talk, panty stealing, restraints, groping, condescending!jaemin duh, overstimulation, squirting, cum eating kind of, pillow fucking, belly bulge, back shots, manipulation, coercion, gaslighting. lmk if i missed any
summary: sick gross perv!jaemin x reader
requested! thank you so much for being so patient my lovely!! hope you enjoy!
you knew your boyfriend was a sick pervert. he’s always got that crazed look in his eyes as he slides his hands up and down your sides or your back, palms dangerously close to cupping your boobs or ass in public or in front of friends. head tilted with that wicked grin on his face, burying his nose into your neck as his breath tickles your skin. he always has to touch you, why can’t he? he’s your boyfriend, so who cares if he exposes a little bit of your skin as his hands push up against your shirt? who cares if he leaves wet traces where he was just leaving kisses on your shoulder? he’s also a big panty stealer, going through your laundry basket while you’re in the bathroom, stuffing as many pairs of used panties into his pockets or his bag as he can, same with socks, always wrapping his dick around your underwear and socks when he gets home, jerking off into the material and putting them in a bag under his bed so no one can find them until the next time he needs them, has quite the growing collection. acts confused and worried when you tell him you keep loosing them, but you know who’s to blame, and he knows you do too, but he still feigns innocence, offering to buy you new lingerie that he will inevitably steal and bring into his own dirty jerk off fuel rotation.
his voice is always dripping in that dangerous inflection, disguised by a sickly sweet timbre. and it always works in his favour. he knows exactly how to get you to conform to his needs and wants, not that you would have rejected him even if he didn’t. his sick perverted ways have corrupted you into somewhat of a perv yourself.
the first real development in jaemins mission to turn you into a little goonette for him, was simple. you and him had had sex a few times, and had also talked lots about kinks, porn, sex toys. you told him about your collection of vibrators and showed him a few porn videos you had saved in a private tab on your phone, he’s watching the videos and they’re fairly vanilla, nothing near as disgusting as his own thoughts and desires. he shows you a lot of videos of him jerking off, and your mouth is watering at the sight and sound of him grunting, whimpering, moaning, bucking up, cumming into his hand, over his stomach, abs tensing, fist fucking himself into overstimulation. it’s so simple and yet it has your senses tingling. he smirks as you take his phone out of his hand, wanting a closer look, “ah does my pretty girl like what she sees?” you nod along still completely captivated by the tons of videos he has of just himself. then you keep swiping, seeing videos of him fucking pocket pussy’s, fleshlights, fake silicon torso with ass and pussy holes, watching him fuck into each of them like a madman, harder and faster than he’s ever fucked you. you slowly turn to him, not wanting to take your eyes off his screen, “why don’t you fuck me like that?” “don’t wanna hurt my pretty little baby” he hums down at you condescendingly, “i think that’s enough of that for now” he goes to take his phone off you, but you snatch it away from him, zoning back in on the way he’s absolutely pounding into the plastic toys. “nana, please fuck me like this” “you’re not ready for that kind of stuff baby, you’re too fragile” he takes his phone off you and swipes off the videos as you pout promoting him to coo and pat your head gently.
phase 2 was even easier, he knew you really liked his videos, wanted to see more, wanted to have him like that, wanted him to have you like that, but he would still just roll his hips gently, talking so sweetly to you whenever you guys had sex, he can see it in your eyes you need more, but he hasn’t had nearly as much fun as he would like to yet. but he’s getting there.
one day you had come home from work, expecting another night with him as always, lots of kisses and cuddles, gentle soft sex, shower and go to bed with him cock warming you, but when you stepped into your room, you saw your chair in front of your desk, your vibrator laid down on top of it, a pair of cuffs wrapped around the two back legs and your laptop open to your porn tabs, now with more videos saved, more rough, more kinks, more like how you need jaemin to fuck you, trying to find anything the can replicate the videos he has of himself. jaemin is sat on your bed with one more pair of cuffs in his hands. “naughty girl, been watching more porn without me? and look at this? it’s so degrading princess, so nasty” you gulp, “nana- it’s- im…” “this is so graphic baby, what happened to my sweet girl?” you stutter, don’t know what to say, it’s still you right? nothing happened, you just want more. you don’t even question why he was lurking on your laptop, never mind the secret porn tabs. he just clicks his tongue, walking up to you and starts fumbling with your pants without another word, once they’re open he pulls them down your legs and you instinctively step out, leaving you in your hoodie and panties, “take a seat” you oblige, walking to the chair, picking up the vibrator, planning to move it out your way
“did i say move that?” “n— no…” “so put it back” you place the toy back down, sitting down. “spread your legs” you listen and spread them so your vibrator is right at your clit, just slightly touching. he crouches down and you hear the creak of the cuffs around one of your ankles, cuffing you to the chair leg, then the other. “nana?…” he hums as he looks up at you, securing the restrains. your words are lost in your throat and he smiles sweetly at your silence and obedience. when he stands he reaches forward pulling your arms behind you and cuffing them behind the back of the seat. you watch him as he comes back around to face you, fingers padding at the mouse pad of your laptop, making the video big screen “you wanted to watch porn so bad, you’re gonna let me watch too, watch as you fall apart to it” you just nod, looking down at the vibrator “oh don’t worry, i’ll make sure it’s up close to that cunt of yours greedy girl”
he presses play on the video, pulling your panties aside as he shoves the head of the vibrator rough against your clit, bringing your panties back around to keep it there, turning it on and starting off pretty strong, you buck against it immediately, whining out, thighs trying to close, but he’s cuffed them to the back legs of the chair, so they stay spread just enough to feel everything. he sits back on your bed, getting his dick out, watching you and the video that plays on the screen. “god you are really a pervert baby, look at the way he’s treating her… and you want me to do this to you?” you can only whimper as the toy hums against you relentlessly. you rut your hips helplessly, subconsciously, thrusting against the toy as your panties keep it snug against your sensitive clit.
it doesn’t take long for jaemin to pull up his phone, setting it up next to your laptop, his self made tapes on show for you too. he can see the desperate dip of your eyebrows as you watch him fuck his fist, no longer focused on the porn site, just wanting to feel and see jaemin ruining you the way he does to himself. talk to you in that sick voice of his. movement beside you catches your eye and you can see jaemin shimmying out his pants and boxers, cock springing up and smacking against his abs, his tip reaching his belly button. your arms thrash against your cuffs, trying to reach out and touch him. he laughs as you struggle and try and tug your arms and hands free, swaying his hips right by your face, cock bobbing slightly infront of you begging to be touched. your head falls forward trying to catch it in your mouth but he’s just too far away.
“oh baby~ look at you! so cute… oh you want to touch it so bad don’t you, want to taste and feel nana so much” you nod pathetically “yes! please!” he just leans down and kisses the top of your head, pulling one of your pillows from where it was neatly laid on top of your bed sheets, he folds it up, creating a tight fold, locking eyes with you, “you don’t mind if i use this right baby? need some relief too” he pouts as you just stare at him, drooling and twitching. he doesn’t wait for an answer as he pushes his cock in, guiding it through the pillow, groaning as he feels the crisp material suffocating his dick. you don’t know where to look, in. front of you at the vulgar videos that play on a constant loop for you, or to your left, watching jaemin fuck your pillow, pulling it back on him to meet his harsh thrusts, gripping the plush cotton so tightly as his furrows his brows in concentration, or if you want to look down at where your panties are keeping your vibrator drumming against you and your hips and thighs twitching in time with the vibrations. you’re eyes flutter around your room, indulging in all your options, feeling the knot tighten. “nana… i— im gonna cum!”
he turns his head to you, slightly tilted and eyebrow cocked with that famous smirk, “yeah? cum baby, cum as much as you like, ruin those panties for me” doesnt take much more convincing before your thrusting hard against the silicone head of the toy, hips pushed out as far as they can go as you feel yourself letting go, high pitched whines falling from your lips, as he’s too occupied to turn your toy off you start to thrash again. “nana! turn it off!” he just grunts as he keeps pushing against your pillow “it’s okay, it’s just a little overstimulation, it’ll feel good, just feel it baby, i’ll turn it off in a sec” lying piece of shit. your hips lift but the you stays pressed against you, your panties now coated in sticky cum and you can feel it getting cold against you, you wriggle and try get your hands free again, he’s never overstimulated you before, so the sensation is new and unfamiliar, but like he said it was starting to feel good and you couldn’t get enough “nghh— m-more!” he just chuckles dryly as he watches you, he doesn’t stop, just letting you beg for more, and not giving it to you, until you’re begging for another break “too much! nana please!” he slows his thrusts down to edge himself, not wanting to cum yet “you can’t make up your mind now can you? just a little longer promise if you push through that feeling you’ll feel so so good” “i can’t! gonna cum again!”
he just shrugs his shoulders picking up his pace again, “so cum, no one stopping you princess” drinks in your moans and cries. cuffs clinking against your chair sending shockwaves straight to his dick. your eyes lock in the way his precum has stained your pillow, folded up around his length as he drives his hips in harsh and fast “need you nana— ah! fuck!” you’re cut off by your own orgasm, but it feels harder, wetter and can feel it pouring out of you, the vibrations makes wet noises as it sprays your cum against the plastic head. your thighs feel warm and wet as you look down, seeing a little puddle in your seat. your whines getting even more pathetic, pulling jaemin out of his trance, he peeks over at you and in between your legs before he’s kissing his teeth happily, humming in approval, “ah good girl~ just push through the feeling okay? push through the overstimulation” you whimper out to him with a sad pout “why is it so wet?” “baby it’s okay, you just squirted that’s all, just means you really like it, now keep watching, nana put your favourite show on” he laughs as he nods towards his phone and your laptop and you can barely look up. eyes scrunching closed from the stimulation.
jaemin watches you struggle, twisting and wriggling, breath hitching as you cum again and the noise he makes brings your attention back on him. his hips are stuttering as he cums on your pillow. he looks so good and his abs are tensing as he bucks into the dirty fabric over and over until he’s fully empty. he stumbles back over, turning your toy off and you relax as best you can, sitting in your own cum and squirt. “shit baby… sorry got carried away, you okay?” you nod yes up at him and he’s uncuffing you letting you stand on your shaky legs. he pulls your panties fully off, bringing them to his face as he buries his nose in and takes a deep sniff, groaning at the damp obscene scent they let out. it’s not long until he pauses the videos and puts his phone in his hoodie pocket. “sorry… i made a bit of a mess on your pillow” he has a smirk on his face as he points out the cum stained pillow on your bed, but you don’t care, “jaemin please fuck me” he acts surprised, fake taken back, but his smile tells just enough that that was his plan, get you all worked up just to want more, to want him.
“baby you just came like… a lot, maybe you’ve had enough for one day” you push him back, grabbing his collar and he lands on your bed, with you straddling him. “jaemin you need to fuck me, i don’t care if ive came 100 times, i need you to fuck me like that” he’s laughing now, eyebrows raised in the smug way again. “oh really? oh you’re so desperate for it ain’t ya” “yes! now come on please”. he licks his lips as he cups his hand around his ear, waiting patiently “i need to hear a little more begging than that, need to know you’re sure about this” you bounce on him a little, cunt rubbing against his abdomen begging and pleading for him as you squeeze his shoulders. you watch as his eyes slowly go back to that dark sultry place, pushing you off him and guiding you to your hands and knees, he also pushes your face into the cum soaked pillow, on complete accident he swears! horseshit. your lips and tongue dart out to suck up some of the sticky remnants of your boyfriend.
he tugs your ass up towards him, using his knee to kick your legs apart more. you can hear him hum in approval at the sight of your soaked pussy, sticky and drenched in cum from before, his hand coming down to cup you down there, leaving small pats. “so messy princess…” his fingers dip down from your clit to your hole, pushing two fingers in just a tiny bit making you moan. he watches as your pussy quivers and gapes a little for him “oh she’s winking at me” you can hear the amusement in his voice “you really want me to treat you like my fuck doll?” “yes! please nana! fuck me like i’m nothing please!” he rolls his eyes back at that. hearing just how desperate you are to be treated like filth by him, wanting him to defile you and break you apart, split you open and have you feeling him inside and your muscles burning for days. he guides his fat tip up, and immediately slams in, no warning, no prep, just pushing his whole manhood into you in one swift sweep. he’s huge, you both know he is, he’s had to prep you to take him many times and he’s always so patient and sweet, letting you adjust, pushing in inch by inch, and when he’s buried deep his thrusts are gentle. but now he is a different man completely, and he is gonna make sure by the end, you are a different woman.
he has a strong grip on your hips, fingers bruising into the flesh, hips snapping against you feverishly, fully drawing back and pulling out before thrusting back into you as deep as humanly possible, your whole body rocks and jolts with the force of him and his heavy balls are repeatedly slapping against your clit. it all has your senses on overdrive, it feels so fucking good, so new and so dirty. he keeps pounding into you like this while you cry and whimper, letting out high pitched moans that could be confused as screams. “oh my little dolly is loving this so much” you can only cry out when you feel his cock head pulsing against your cervix.
he keeps driving his hips in, his hard length dragging against your gummy walls and you keep clenching around him. when he sees your arch slipping he’s bringing you back up against him, one hand in between your shoulder blades and the other firmly on your waist as he keeps you in place. “that’s it baby, don’t run from it, feel me in there nice and deep” the hand on your back snakes around to your front and pushes against the bulge of him in your belly making you whine out, hands clawing at your sheets, your hoodie riding up. he keeps hitting it like a mad man, crazed and starved. doesn’t stop when you cum, just holds your ankles tight to stop them from closing around him or trying to crawl away. “dolls don’t move, fucking take it”
its so fucking good, and it’s so much, but this is what you had wanted, what you had begged for now for weeks, him roughy and dominant and you don’t want him to go back to being soft with you, don’t want him to say i told you so. all you can do is shake and cry, it feels so good and you have never felt more loved by him like this, laid out and helpless. when he cums he cums so deep inside you you’re sure you’ll be having to go take a plan b, it’s so deep and you’re so full of his seed it paints your insides.
of course he will only ever fuck you like this from now on, he doesn’t need to ask or bait it out of you, whenever he wants, you’ll be ready for it, desperate to feel all of him again. definitely manifests into a free use kink, for both of you. he’ll watch you closely as you crawl up onto him on the bed, hands in his pants as you guide him out and into your mouth, until he’s taking over and fucking your throat full of seed and babies.
it had taken him months of coercion, manipulation and some gaslighting, but he finally got to have you how he’s always wanted, his pretty free use fuck doll. taking whatever he wants from you, sometimes leaving you with nothing, others giving you more than you need and degrading you when you struggle to take all of it. but it’s clear what his plan was all along, especially when you find his collection of your dirty panties, definitely has to punish you for snooping, gagging you up with your old cum stained thong as he has your legs hooked over his shoulders and around his neck while he fucks you like he hates your guts. rearranging your insides until your limping the next day.
SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is part three and a half of a series! read part one & two for context!
PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader
SYNOPSIS | na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.
WC | 15.3k
WARNINGS | cursing, mentions of alcohol, sexual comments, vouyerism, explicit smut, choking, hair pulling, so sorry to the jaehyun stans this chapter :(, pink-haired jaemin. mc does some hoe shit idk.
A.N | tumblr is being stupid and won't let me put it all in one part, so i'm splitting it into two. the next part will be linked on the masterlist / uploaded in a few! please send asks after you finish reading. i want to hear your thoughts!
Typically, the University dining hall is one of the loudest places on campus at any given time.
However, you’re becoming increasingly aware of how eerily silent it is at the ass crack of dawn – and how unbelievably loud Jaemin is.
It’s one thing if he was whisper-yelling about midterms coming up, but the dude was dishing some very personal details while sifting through a pan of scrambled eggs. And there was no whispering.
None.
None at all.
Jaemin wanted to make sure you heard his frustration. So, loud and proud, with his entire chest, he piles a heaping serving of eggs on his plate while conversating at the top of his lungs.
“...then we flipped positions, but she got the angle wrong and bent my dick–”
Jaemin's voice carried across the dining hall, prompting you to offer an apologetic smile to the staff member stationed at the food line. However, he just yawns tiredly and turns around to continue flipping pancakes on the griddle.
They obviously didn’t get paid enough to care about Jaemin and his dick bending episode, so you moved along behind the boy, piling up your own plate with the dining halls incredibly mid breakfast.
“. . . and I didn’t even mean to fall asleep, but we went so many rounds I just closed my eyes for two seconds, next thing I know it’s five am and I wake up to Haechan calling me –”
The mention of his name makes your head snap up. “Haechan?”
Jaemin stops at the soda machine and pours a cool glass of Gatorade into a clear plastic cup. “Yeah, he was totally freaking out, wondering why I hadn’t come home.” He chuckles before moving on to find a table. You grab a water bottle and scurry to keep up. “Like I don’t disappear for pussy all the time.”
At this early hour, you could have had your choice of seats in the café, but in typical Jaemin fashion, he zeroed in on an elevated platform encircling the main dining area. It was a nice spot – next to a cluster of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the quad and few academic buildings. But again, at this hour, especially with it being a Sunday, there wasn’t much to look at. Just a few workers maintaining the lawn and a solitary squirrel.
It wasn’t like you were going to be staring out the window much though. His words had captured any wandering attention.
"...and he asked if I had heard from you, which is why I texted.” Jaemin scoops up a hearty forkful of scrambled eggs and eagerly pops it into his mouth, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.
The jolt of surprise that courses through your veins is unmistakably reflected in your expression. "Me? Why would he be asking about me?" you blurt out, your nerves getting the best of you.
Shit.
So Haechan had woken up and noticed your absence. A pang of guilt tightens your chest and makes you cringe on the inside. What a shitty thing to do. Take his virginity and then all but bail on him.
But he was cool with it being a one-time thing, you argue with yourself.
Jaemin interrupts your internal debate through a mouthful of pineapple, “I don’t know but he seemed kinda mad. You didn’t piss him off, did you?”
To avoid an immediate answer, you shove a forkful of syrup slathered pancakes into your mouth and chew slowly. When you swallow, it feels like a lump is stuck in your throat. But maybe that was just your guilty conscience trying to choke the life out of you.
“I don’t think I did anything.” You shrug, the words sounding less convincing than you’d hoped. A thought pops into your head, diverting the conversation momentarily, “Wait. You went home to shower, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
You lean in a bit, your tone hushed, “So… did you see him?”
Jaemin cards a hand through his faded pink hair and shakes his head, “I mean yeah, but he just said good morning and shut his door. I invited him to breakfast, but I don’t think he heard me.”
As his words sink in, a mix of relief and concern mingles within you. The last thing you needed was Haechan tagging along to a morning-after-breakfast. That would have made things mega awkward.
The boy you had just fucked and the boy you were wanting to fuck. Add in the fact that they had no idea you were even completing this stupid drunk-induced challenge…
Oh yeah, the challenge. Why the hell did it keep skipping your mind? Like it wasn’t the very thing that got you in this position.
Just the thought of it… well, it made your mind wander (as if it hadn’t been wandering this entire time). And somehow it landed on just how good Jaemin looked this morning.
He obviously had the after-sex glow - his skin was looking smooth and radiant, eyes bright, and lips a subtle shade of darker pink. The thought of why they were puffy made your thighs quiver - and underneath the dining table, you have to squeeze them together just to breathe properly again.
Was it from Yeji biting them last night? Passionate kisses turning into something much more aggressive? Could it be from him pushing open her thighs and coaxing her through ecstasy with just his tongue?
The vulgar thoughts circle your brain while you take in the rest of his sleepy, early morning outfit. A bright red hoodie hangs off his shoulders, covering any sort of muscle definition your eyes were itching to see. Not that it truly mattered – your memory was still pretty vivid from the party two nights ago. However, that night, your focus had been solely on Hyuck, which now seemed like an unfortunate missed opportunity.
Especially when he gets up to dump his plate in the dirty dish bin, and your eyes follow his tight cargo pants. What exactly was hiding beneath the black fabric?
Technically, you already knew thanks to the video he shared the night all this challenge stuff was created.
But a little reminder couldn’t hurt.
Jaemin returns to the table with a fresh glass of blue Gatorade, and when he sits down, his eyes wash over your body like he was mirroring what you were just doing. Did he catch you? Is that why he did that?
He doesn’t give any hints. Just raises an eyebrow playfully, the rim of his cup poised between his lips. "I know you were avoiding the question, but why are you up this early?" he teases, his voice a blend of curiosity and amusement.
A chuckle escapes your lips as you spear a piece of fruit with your fork. It was good to think quick in these situations, but the answer that comes out of your mouth might have been the stupidest thing you’d ever said, "I was planning to go on a run."
You don’t run. Especially not on a Sunday morning.
His lips curl into a mischievous smile, his gaze dancing with a hint of skepticism. "But your hair is wet."
Glancing down at your slightly damp hair, you feel a blush tint your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized. After your dizzying thoughts of Jaemin in the shower, you had been so excited to meet him for breakfast that you forgot to blow dry your hair, "Yeah, I showered."
Jaemin leans forward, his expression mockingly serious. "Before the run?"
Your laughter bubbles forth, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. "Well, you wanted to grab breakfast, so I thought I’d take a quick shower.”
A grin tugs at Jaemin's lips, his intrigue growing. "But you're a night showerer."
With a playful roll of your eyes, you respond, "Is this a full-scale investigation now? Am I on trial?"
Jaemin breaks into hearty laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just trying to solve the mysteries of the morning, you know."
Relief stretched through your body like an adrenaline chaser. “Well, I hate to disappoint Mr. Detective, but there’s no mystery here. I just got up early and was gonna hit the gym, but you texted me first.” You put the fruit back onto your plate, too worked up to take a bite, “Next time, I’ll ignore your text.”
“Hey!” he frowns.
“Kidding.” You remark, “But I think I’ll skip the gym instead and take a nap. I’m not used to waking up this early…”
“Just make sure you’re at the library by one. Would hate to miss your free tutoring session.” He pushes back from the table, and you do the same, gathering all your half-eaten dishes from the world’s fastest breakfast date.
“Do you want me to pay you? I have no problems giving you cash.”
“Nah, I like helping out a friend.” He bumps your elbow as you walk down the ramp to the main dining floor. The surge of electricity that snaps through your body takes you by surprise. Maybe this breakfast was a little higher tension than you were aware of.
You drop all your dishes into the dirty dish bin and walk side by side with Jaemin out on the quad. There was still no one in sight, even as the sun started to bloom full light over the bright green shrubbery.
“Don’t say I never offered to pay.” You giggle.
“Nah, don’t worry. If I wanted something in return, it wouldn’t be money.” He just stares at you, a deadpan look with no emotion.
You, on the other hand, have many emotions crossing your face – shock, disbelief, curiosity, intrigue.
“I’m kidding.” He snorts.
You stumble over your words, “Y-Yeah, duh.”
“Alright, I’ll catch you at one. Don’t be late!” He reminds, walking backwards as he wiggles a warning finger at you. He spins around, almost tripping over a loose brick on the pathway in the process.
As he retreats into the backdrop of trees, headed back to the boy's dormitory on the far side of campus, you find yourself wishing to follow. Maybe you could catch some sleep in his bed, enveloped by the sweet smell of Jaemin (that being hair dye and Dior Savauge).
Instead, you begrudgingly drag your feet in the opposite direction. Back to your lonely dorm where you would fall asleep in an empty bed that smelled like nothing but yourself.
“We’ve wanted this for a while.”
Haechan looks up at you from between your legs and licks his puffy lips. His finger draws lazy circles around your clit, and it feels wonderful.
You could watch him like this forever, but what drags your attention away is the second set of lips attaching to your neck. Nothing had warned you of his presence before, but now you were on full alert. He sucks bruises against your skin, hands running up and down your body until you were left shaking into his touch.
“Jaemin?”
The pink haired boy draws back and sits on his heels, a goofy grin spread out.
“Yes princess?”
Your head is on a swivel now. From Haechan’s chocolate brown eyes and mischievous smirk to the way Jaemin was eyeing your exposed chest.
“You okay sweetheart?” Jaemin takes a singular finger and tips your chin upwards, “How about you just lay back and let us take care of you.”
Haechan speaks up, “Tell us which one makes you cum harder, okay?” Two fingers pinch your clit, making you jerk against Jaemin, “Like a bet.”
Like a bet.
Like a bet.
In the hazy realm between dreams and reality, your eyes flutter open, greeted by the harsh reality of full sunlight streaming through the curtains. Panic instantly surges through you as you glance at the clock – it's later than it should be. With a sudden jolt, you sit up, your mind racing to comprehend.
The realization hits like a tidal wave: you're late for your tutoring session with Jaemin. You fumble with the sheets, untangling yourself in a hurry, and your heart pounds with each passing second. Your phone, lying neglected on the nightstand, taunts you with its unmissed alarms.
“Oh fuck.”
The room spins with the remnants of the vivid dream. Jaemin and Haechan... at the same time. Jaemin’s arms around you, Haechan between your thighs. The wetness there now seems unavoidable, but there was no time.
Your phone lights up with another text from Jaemin. Grabbing it, you hastily read through.
(1:01 PM) Manwhore: yo, you on ur way?
(1:04 PM) Manwhore: helloooo?
(1:07 PM) Manwhore: don’t tell me you forgot
(1:08 PM) Manwhore: if you don’t text me back or get here in the next five minutes, I’m literally going to fuck your roommate again.
Wish you would fuck me as a punishment, you think, but type out a different response.
(1:09 PM) Y/N: you’d fuck her anyway.
(1:09 PM) Y/N: I overslept. Be there in five.
Another glance over your messages and you realize the same roommate he was threatening to fuck has also been bombarding you with a flurry of messages.
(10:01 AM) Roomie!!: I feel like I never see you
(10:52 AM) Roomie!!: I wanted to wake you up but you weren’t here literally all night…
(11:09 AM) Roomie!!: I left you a muffin on the counter <3
(12:36 PM) Roomie!!: Can we please talk tonight? Or hangout? Or go to the movies? Literally anything??? I miss you!
You shoot her a quick message, saying sorry and promising to catch up with her tonight. Man, you've really missed her. There's this itch to spill everything, spill the beans about the stupid bet, but at the same time, you're not sure if you should. It's like walking on eggshells, ya know?
One thing was apparent though. She could never know about these filthy dreams. How desperate you were to be underneath your best friends…that was a secret you must keep.
Speaking of best friends, you had one waiting impatiently at the library for you to hurry the fuck up. No matter if you were just dreaming about him sucking on your neck.
You snatch the nearest clothes and quickly slide on your shoes in a rush. Carelessly, you throw textbooks into your backpack. Grabbing the muffin Jennie left for you on the counter, you swing your backpack over your shoulder and scramble out the door.
“Stupid fucking stairs” you mutter underneath your breath, hurtling down all five flights in a rush.
“What did the stairs ever do to you.” The voice startles you, nearly causing you to trip.
“What the hell, Haechan.” Great, the other half of your dream has just materialized. “What are you doing in the girls dorm.”
He grins, keeping pace with you down the flights. “Visiting a lady friend.”
“Truth. Now.”
He sighs, “Group project.”
“Sounds about right.” You reach the bottom of the staircase and push open the door that spills out onto the quad.
The fleeting thought of sprinting away crosses your mind, but you dismiss it. Instead, you glance over your shoulder, watching him struggle with his backpack straps. His hair is a fluffy brown mess, wind tousling it. A faded graphic design t-shirt hangs off his collarbones, with matching sweatpants that seem two sizes too big.
He's such a loser, you think affectionately.
“So…” He muses, catching up to you and bumping your arm with his elbow, “Why’d you dip this morning?” There’s a tinge of hurt in the question but you choose to ignore it.
You shrug, “Met up with Jaemin for breakfast…you were sleeping so I didn’t want to bother you.”
The campus has come alive since your last outing. Students lounge on the quad, soaking in the dwindling sunlight before fall strips away the warmth. You wish you could join them and forget about your trivial problems.
"Weird. Because he invited me too," he keeps his head down, focusing on his worn-out sneakers navigating the uneven brick paving the campus.
“He told me.” You don’t know what Haechan was getting at. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have dipped, but…what else were you supposed to do?
“Surprised your legs are working.”
“Haechan.” You shriek, slapping his shoulder. Where the hell did that come from.
He laughs loudly, “I’m just saying. Maybe that’s why you were so mad at the stairs. Hurt a bit?” Yeah, he was feeling cocky. Confident. Cause here was this beautiful girl next to him, who just so happened to be his best friend, and who also sat on his cock last night. He felt on top of the world.
“I’m fine.” You seethe, “And just so we’re clear, we aren’t telling anyone about this.”
Bummer. He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I know. You want to keep the best sex of your life a secret. No sweat.”
“I swear to god Haechan –”
“Oh, calm down princess. I’m not gonna tell anyone. Our little secret.” He winks at you and a hot blush spreads over your cheeks.
Fuck him and fuck his stupid pet names.
“Round two?” He braces for the swat that comes his way, another laugh slipping past his lips, “Okay, okay. I’ll stop joking around.”
You want to feel annoyed, but you're just glad to have your best friend back—the one who makes inappropriate jokes at your expense. Maybe that's greedy of you, expecting everything to go back to normal after taking his virginity.
But it’s what he wanted…. So get over it Y/N, you think.
Round two didn’t sound so bad though…especially after that stupid fucking dream you just had.
“Where you headed?” he asks, pulling on the straps of his backpack.
“Library. Jaemin’s tutoring me. And I’m late.” You reply. He was really gonna kick your ass if you didn’t hurry up.
“How great. I’m on my way there too. Gotta finish this stupid presentation.”
You glance at him, catching his face scrunch up.
“Got something else you want to say?” you question. It looked like he was physically in pain. Yet, knowing him, he was just holding himself back from saying something inappropriate.
“Promise not to hit me.”
You raise your eyebrows.
“Well…I was just gonna say, if you want help relaxing after the draining tutoring session you’re about to have…”
Bingo. You knew him soooo well.
“You’re impossible Haechan.”
“One of my redeeming qualities I must say.”
The library comes into view. Fucking finally. It felt like ages since you left your dorm.
You decide to snark back at him. “You know…on second thought.” It almost makes you feel bad the way his eyes spark up, “I would but, I got plans…”
His response is firm and unwavering. "Cancel them."
Locking eyes with him proves to be a mistake as you realize he's dead serious. "Can't, sorry," you pout.
He strides ahead, swinging open the library door with a grand gesture. You roll your eyes, heading straight for the back wall where the individual study rooms are located.
"Y/n," he whispers, silently urging you to reconsider. "Think about it."
Ignoring him, your attention is diverted when you spot Jaemin, who also catches sight of you through the glass separating the main floor from the study rooms. He rolls his eyes and taps his wrist as a mock reminder of your tardiness.
"Y/n," Haechan whines, a plea echoing the same tone as the night before.
Choosing to play with him once more, you tease, "Sorry, Haechannie. Plans, remember?" Leaning in, you cup his ear and blow a cool breath, feeling him shiver. "But you can think about me when you jerk off later."
He watches in shock as you saunter away, pushing open the study room door to apologize profusely to Jaemin. The bulge in Haechan's pants goes unnoticed until he tears his eyes away. "God damn."
Na Jaemin is disgustingly attractive.
And so, so distracting.
How were you supposed to study binomial distributions when he sat on the opposite side of the table looking like that.
The red hoodie he had on this morning has been discarded, replaced by a t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves that showcased his toned biceps. As he shifted around the scattered textbooks, his tongue peeked out between his lips in concentration.
Jaemin’s presence plus the constant remembrance of the dream only amplified your struggle to stay focused.
Instead, your (lovely) brain decided to entertain you with intense fantasies of clawing at his biceps while you rode him. You’re sure he’s a groaner. It’s almost visual in your head, the way he’d tip his head back and growl at the feeling of you splitting yourself on his cock. You know he talks you through it too.
“Got any guesses on the size?”
"W-What?" You stammer, a twinge of anxiety hitting you, concerned you might have been caught daydreaming.
Jaemin cards a hand through his hair and smirks, “The sample size, y/n? Have you not been paying attention for the last twenty minutes?? We’re trying to solve for the sample size.” He blows air through his teeth in annoyance, “I swear it feels like I’m just doing your homework for you sometimes.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” You mutter, “How about I do the next five by myself and have you check over them after?”
"Sounds good. Don't hesitate to ask if you have any questions," he responds casually, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning his attention back to his own work.
It annoyed you how smart he was too. And he rarely got distracted when he was studying. It’s like he gets automatically switched to hyperfocus mode. Nothing breaks his concentration. It’s such a weird version of Jaemin, but one that you’ve grown accustomed too during the study sessions. Any other time of day and he’s chatting up girls and doing stupid dares that normally got him in trouble with the campus police. It’s happened too many times to count.
The gods favor him, you think, beauty and brains.
Your gaze inadvertently shifts to the main floor of the library. Through the transparent walls, you see Haechan sitting at his own table. He looked bored, his lips set in a pout and a crease drawn between his eyebrows. Bored and frustrated. But he also looked good as hell.
He pushes his hips up to get comfortable in the hard plastic chair he was in, and the grey sweatpants do nothing to hide the painfully obvious outline of his cock. Arousal bells start going off in your head, and you think you might just faint out of pure horniness.
You watch him pick up his phone.
A buzz sounds on the table, coming from your own phone.
(1:51 PM) Weird guy from the street: stop staring at me
There’s literally no way he could have known you were looking at him unless he had been sneaking glances at you too. The thought makes you blush.
(1:51 PM) Y/N: not staring at u weirdo
(1:52 PM) Y/N: simply looking through the window
(1:52 PM) Y/N: not my fault ur big ass head is blocking the view
You peak at him, and this time he’s looking dead at you with a big frown on his face.
(1:52 PM) Weird guy from the street: okay ouch
(1:53 PM) Weird guy from the street: but ur eyes r literally burning holes in me
(1:53 PM) Weird guy from the street: if you wanna fuck so bad, just meet me upstairs :)
A snort sounds at the back of your throat, catching Jaemin's attention as he glances up from his textbook.
"Just searching for the equation I need," you confess sheepishly, raising your phone in explanation.
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, so you go back to texting.
(1:54 PM) Y/N: u wish loser
From the other side of the glass, you watch him throw you a middle finger.
(1:54 PM) Weird guy from the street: okay but seriously meet me upstairs
(1:54 PM) Weird guy from the street: it’s SERIOUS!!!
(1:55 PM) Weird guy from the street: i promise
(1:55 PM) Weird guy from the street: swear on jeno’s hockey career
(1:55 PM) Weird guy from the street: don’t tell him i swore on that or he’ll kick my ass again
(1:55 PM) Weird guy from the street: just meet in the geology section.. never seen anybody up there
You send a final text
(1:56 PM) Y/N: fine, but if this is a trick, i’m kicking your ass.
Your chair emits a loud scraping sound as you push it back to stand up. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom before my brain explodes. Be right back.” You explain, and Jaemin nods.
The echo of your footsteps resonates through the quiet library as you navigate your way to the geology section. The fluorescent lights above flicker intermittently, casting occasional shadows that dance along the bookshelves. You can't help but wonder why Haechan chose such a weird ass place to meet.
Decorative rocks are showcased throughout this section of the library, and in the back of your mind you wonder who in their right mind would study geology. Rocks?
“Took you long enough.” Haechan teases, emerging from the shadows between two bookshelves. You squint at him, your eyes still adjusting to the unexpected appearance.
"Why do you have to be so extra?" you quip, recovering from the surprise. It's the second time today he's managed to catch you off guard.
"Extra is my middle name, darling," he grins, leaning casually against the shelves. You secretly wish they would give in and collapse just for the sake of a good laugh.
"Cut the dramatics, Haechan. Why am I here?" you demand, crossing your arms.
"I want to know what you’re doing with Jaemin," he deadpans, peering up through his long lashes. "Because for the past thirty minutes or so, you've been practically drooling over him." He checks his wrist adorned with a silver watch you gifted him last Christmas, "And I've been keeping track, by the way. Don't bother denying it; I've got eyes everywhere."
You roll your eyes, annoyance creeping in. "That's bordering on stalker behavior, you know."
He casually shrugs, unfazed. "Answer the question."
"I'm studying with Jaemin. What else would I be doing?" you retort, finding the situation utterly ridiculous.
"Sure, you're not one of his study buddies?" Haechan drawls, dragging out the second-to-last word and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You resist the urge to roll your eyes again, realizing you've walked right into his stupid trap.
You glare pointedly. “Just because you caught me looking at another man that isn’t you doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”
“Oh sweetheart, I didn’t say anything about fucking him.” Haechan replies with a sly grin.
“You implied it!” You huff, jabbing him in the chest with a manicured finger.
He clutches the spot and winces at pain. “Damn your nails are sharp.”
“Why am I really up here.” You were becoming impatient. Perhaps you should have known that Haechan would waste your time. There was nothing of importance for you between these stupid, dusty, rock filled shelved.
A part of you did know it, though. And that part was practically begging Haechan to shove you against the shelves and start fucking your brains out.
You squash that part down. Deep down.
Haechan sighs and takes a tentative step backwards, “Honestly, I was bored and just wanted to mess with you.” You open your mouth to chastise him, but he cuts you off before you can, “But now that we’re on the topic of fucking Jaemin –”
“Don’t think we’re on the same topic here.” You interject.
He keeps going without missing a beat, “I just thought you should know about his....habits” His face beams in pride, as if this super-secret tidbit of information could solve world hunger.
"His habits?"
Haechan takes a step towards you, "Yeah...his dirty, filthy habits."
"What are you getting at Haechan?"
The boy in front of you, eyes you up and down before speaking slowly, "You're telling me you don't know?"
You narrow your eyes at Haechan, feeling a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Know what exactly? Stop beating around the bush and just spit it out."
Haechan smirks, relishing the moment. "I just thought you should know that he fucks girls here after hours."
“In the geology section?” You question, skepticism etching your features.
“In the library dumbass.” Haechan retorts, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes lock onto yours, daring you to challenge him.
“Yeah right.”
He stomps his foot in a childlike manner. “I’m serious.”
Your disbelief lingers. "I don't believe you. It's literally patrolled by security after hours," you assert, your arms crossing defensively over your chest.
Haechan rolls his eyes, seemingly accustomed to your skepticism. "Y/n, me and Jeno used to think Jaemin was rocking your shit back when he started tutoring you."
A wry smile creeps onto your face. "How lovely."
“I mean, now we know you just need help with stats –”
“It’s a hard subject.” You defend yourself.
Sure, you’d never been good at math like others, but statistics was a hard class. And your professor made it even more boring with her monotoned voice.
“I know, cheated my way through an A.” Haechan admits, flashing a beaming smile. “Anyways, he has an entire roster of girls he brings to the library after hours. Honestly, you’re the only girl I’ve seen him actually tutor.” The soft glow of the library lights casts a warm hue on the leather-bound volumes that surround you and you notice it illuminates the curve of Haechan’s jaw too.
“Haechan, I swear if this is a prank or a set up.”
He gives another stomp to the worn-out carpet, "Why would I be lying about this?" he insists, his expression genuinely serious. "You know what, meet me here Friday night at nine thirty."
“The library closes at eight.”
“Back entrance is always open.” He winks at you, and you playfully swat his arm. “Gonna prove that I’m not lying.”
“Whatever.”
You find yourself baffled by Haechan's sudden revelation about Jaemin's supposed "dirty habits." There's a lingering question in your mind – why is Haechan even sharing this information with you in the first place? As the absurdity of the situation sinks in, you can't help but wonder what prompted him to bring you to this secluded spot just to share peculiar details about Jaemin's life.
Is he threatened by your sudden interest - if he really was catching on to the fact that you were after Jaemin.
A few beats pass before he’s nudging your shoulder. “So?” He jostles your arm with his own until you swat at him again, “You’ll meet me here?”
“Sure, Haechan.” In truth, you had nothing better to do. And maybe you could use this to your advantage. The next part of this stupid challenge was to fuck Jaemin anyways, and what better way than to use his rendezvous spot to do so.
If Haechan was telling the truth.
“We should make out.”
You slide your eyes to his and cock your head, “In your dreams Hyuckie.”
The day was winding down, and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the university campus. You trudged back to your dorm, feeling the exhaustion from a day filled with studying and more homework than you could manage.
Echoes of distant laughter and the occasional sound of a slamming door fill the hallways as you climbed the stairs to your floor, anticipation building to catch up with your roommate, Jennie.
You didn’t mean to completely ghost her the last couple weeks, but between classes and the challenge…well, you had your mind full.
The door is swinging open before you can get your key in the lock, and you’re met face to face with her.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up! I swear I never see you anymore. You leave before I’m up and come home after I’m asleep!"
Apologizing, you step inside and close the door behind you, embracing your roommate. "I know, I know. It's been crazy lately," you admit, setting your bag down and following her to the living room.
Jennie raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me." she teased.
"Never.” It’s true. Jennie was the one person in the world who you could relax around. “So, what’s been up with you.”
She sighed dramatically, as if she'd been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and plops down on the couch. You do the same. “Sorority stuff, you know how it is. Rush week is killing me. Drama, drama, drama. Oh, and did I mention Jaehyun broke up with his girlfriend? The whole campus is losing its mind over him, including maybe me," she added with a sly grin.
Your eyes widen at the news. "Jaehyun broke up with his girlfriend? That's big news! Why did they break up?" you inquired, curious about someone else’s drama.
Maybe it could distract you from your own.
Jennie leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "No one knows for sure, but there are rumors. Apparently, she cheated on him.”
“Why on earth would she cheat on him?”
She giggles, “That’s what I’m saying! He’s like the hottest guy on campus. She’s definitely mental if she cheated on him. If he was mine…”
“Make him yours.”
“Y/N!” she giggles and playfully shoves your arm.
You break out in a smile too, “Well, if he is single, now’s your chance!”
Jennie shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Who knows?” She tugs a blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around her thin body, “Anyways, enough about me. What’s been keeping you so busy? You haven't even had time for Mark. He's been asking about you by the way."
You sighed, feeling guilty for neglecting your friends. "Classes have been crazy, and Jaemin and I have been hitting the books together. Speaking of which, he's been a lifesaver. I wouldn't survive this semester without him."
Jennie smirked playfully. "Oh, Jaemin, huh? Is there something I should know?"
You rolled your eyes, swatting her arm this time. "No, nothing like that. He's just a great study partner."
She raised an eyebrow, a knowing expression on her face. "Sure, just a study partner?”
It funny how fast you break into a cold sweat.
“W-What do you mean?”
“I mean..” She drags the words out and for a second you think she’s gonna accuse you of sleeping with him. Or at least accuse you of having the hots for him. “I’ve studied with him. So, I know that studying doesn’t always mean studying.”
“Oh my god. You think I’m fucking him?”
I haven’t yet, you think.
“I’m just asking!”
“No, I promise he’s just helping me with stats homework.” You hold up two fingers, “Scouts honor.”
She rolls her eyes, “Look, I wouldn't blame you if you were sleeping with him. Been there done that.”
You wonder if she’s one of the girls Haechan seemed so sure Jaemin fucked in the library after hours. It’s not like you would ever ask her. But your mind wanders nonetheless.
“Trust me, I’m not.”
“Maybe you should.” She suggests in thought, “I mean he definitely knows his way around a girls body.”
You cover your eyes in embarrassment, “Oh my god, gross!”
She holds up her hands like she’d been caught, “I think you need to let loose. Just giving you a recommendation.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Speaking of letting loose, I have a sorority event this Friday, and I want you to come. It's a big reveal for my little, and I want you there."
You hesitate. "I appreciate the invite, but I'm actually hanging out with Haechan that night."
There’s a part of you that wants to add the fact that you’re really just trying to catch Jaemin in the act of fucking in the library. But with the way the conversation just went…maybe that was best kept to yourself.
Jennie's expression shifted from excitement to a subtle disappointment. "Come on! I never see you anymore. Can't you ditch Haechan for one night? It'll be a blast, and you'll get to meet some great people. Plus, you need a break from that annoying prick."
You forget that Jennie doesn’t like Haechan, recalling drunken nights where she spent hours cursing him out for embarrassing her during her own rush experience. Apparently, he was her date and got too drunk which ended in him throwing up all over her dress. It’s a miracle she got a bid for the house she wanted.
Feeling a bit guilty, you sighed. "Alright, fine. I'll come. But only because you're my best friend, and I miss spending time with you."
Jennie's face lit up, and she practically squealed in delight. "Yes! It's going to be so much fun. You won't regret it."
The night stretched on with the two of you quickly settling into the cozy routine of a girls’ night in. You ordered some delicious takeout, stocked up on snacks, and found yourselves comfortably sprawled on the couch with episodes of Love Island playing on the tv. Fairy lights twinkled over your entangled figures as you both became engrossed in the latest romantic drama on the screen.
It was a nice reprieve from the boys you’d been constantly drowning around.
But watching the couple on screen makes your mind drift to thoughts of Jaemin. His body caging you against the wall of a study room, eventually laying you back on the table scattered with textbooks and eating you out. His pink hair caught between your fingers…
The thoughts worm their way into your dreams when you and Jennie eventually drift off to sleep, curled on the couch, not wanting the night to end.
Aside from the frat parties, drunken nights, and time well spent with friends, college was actually very fucking boring.
The week breezes by with boring lectures, hastily eaten lunches, and so much damn homework that you genuinely begin to think you’re drowning. You almost turn in a quiz too late on Monday and decide from then on that you’d lock yourself away till your schedule looked a little less hectic.
And that led to a very boring and very sleepy Friday.
The lecture hall was dimly lit, and the professor's monotone voice droned on about the intricacies of music theory. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, staring blankly at the notes you'd given up on comprehending. The only thing getting you through this intolerable day was the weekend ahead (Even though you had to meet Mark on Saturday for a stupid group project), and the coffee you had gotten with Jennie that morning.
She made sure to dutifully remind you of her sorority event that night, which in turn reminded you of your library date with Hyuck.
Like you could forget.
After that, and your morning stats class (where you promptly took a little nap despite your determination to genuinely understand the subject), you met up with Jeno for lunch. It wasn’t so bad, until Jaehyun crashed at the table and stole Jeno’s attention to talk about hockey plays for their game on Sunday.
Awkwardly trying to avoid him and the rumors that were spreading on campus (and because you had no idea what a bar down or hat-trick was), you promptly left and got to your music theory lecture early.
Which at this moment felt like a place where pretty things came to die.
You couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh. The boredom was reaching unbearable levels, and you questioned your life choices that led you to enroll in this class. It’s not like you needed it to graduate. The spot was simply open, and you needed another class.
Just as you were contemplating an escape plan, the door swung open with a loud bang.
Mark rushed in, disheveled and panting. Everyone turned to stare at him, including you. He apologized to the professor, who simply gestured for him to take a seat. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight.
Mark Lee was…a character. You met him through Hyuck, who introduced him as the love of his life. Mark had grinned awkwardly and shuffled away from Haechan’s body after that comment, instead choosing to question you about your major and interests. It was then that you both became friends too. Albeit, casual friends. (Except for the one time freshman year that you had hooked up in the science building bathroom)
He was there to gossip with, grab lunch, and aid you through music theory (which you didn’t know a damn thing about). He was exceptionally talented and hardworking, show cased through his double major in theology and music theory. A weird combination, but after getting to know his religious background and affinity for guitar playing, you thought it was perfectly spot on for him.
Like Jaemin, he dyed his hair bright ass colors whenever he was on the verge of a breakdown. This weeks’ color was black with silver sideburns. Somehow, he pulls it off quite well.
"What's up?" you whispered to Mark as he settled into the chair beside you.
He looked worn out. It was barely one pm, but the ruffled hair, wrinkled clothes, and half on-half off jacket, makes him look like he’d been hit by a tornado on his way to class.
His mouth is set in a flat line when he glances over at you, “Hyuck, is what’s up.”
“Hyuck?”
The professor sends a pointed glare at the two of you, and mark smiles sheepishly before leaning in to tell you the rest, his voice hushed, “Yeah. Went over to his dorm to grab my notebook that I left last night, and the dumbass was wasted.”
“Like, drunk?” you question, because as you recall, it was barely one pm.
“Drunk as fuck.” Mark deadpans.
Your eyebrows shoot up, “It’s the middle of the day?”
“Yeah, I told him that many, many times.” Mark digs around his backpack, trying to find a pencil to catch up on the lecture he missed, “All he kept doing was stumbling around, asking for cheesecake–”
When you open your mouth to question it, Mark cuts you off.
“I don’t really know why.” When he finds the pencil at the bottom of his bag, he snorts in triumph and continues, “So he kept asking for cheesecake, started bawling when I told him there was none, and finally, when I wrestled him into his bed, he started telling me about you.”
Your body freezes impossibly fast, gaze nervously darting around the room. Maybe if you didn’t look Mark in the eyes, then you could forget what he said and pretend that the words never left his mouth.
No, of course not. Time to bite the bullet.
“Me?” You squeak.
“He told me a lot about you actually.” The way Mark is looking, his arms crossed and an expression that can only be described as accusatory, can mean only one thing.
“He told you about…”
You want to leave the lecture hall and punch Lee Donghyuck yourself when mark responds.
“Yep.”
“Fuck.” You should have known Hyuck couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “What did he say.”
It was Marks turn to glance around the room, just in case anyone was listening in. When all is clear, his voice drops even lower, “He said you guys fucked after Jaehyuns party. And that it was the best sex of his life – well, the only sex of his life. Was he telling the truth?”
Now’s your chance to lie and set the record straight that you never slept with Haechan. Though, with Mark’s tone, you already knew that he knew the right answer.
“Yeah…We did, but it was just a convenience thing. He happened to be at the right place, at the right time. It was nothing more than that.”
Oh, how you wished those words were true.
It would severely less-complicate things.
Mark chuckles nervously, “I’d avoid him if I were you. Because dude, it was so much more than that to him.”
Your biggest fear is confirmed with his words. How dumb could you be to think that taking his virginity wouldn’t lead to him having some weird clingy attitude towards you. You should have known better.
“I can’t avoid him. I have to meet with him tonight.” You hiss.
Mark shrugs, “I don’t know if he’ll even be awake, dude passed out hard. I mean, I set his alarms, so who knows.”
“Maybe…”
“Anyways, dude – OW!”
A flying drumstick clips Mark in the head, and he hurriedly rubs the spot, wincing. The professor, arms crossed, looks at the both of you in displeasure.
Bursting into a fit of giggles, you realize that this day was definitely not going to be boring anymore.
As you sit in your cozy apartment engrossed in a book, your phone buzzes, pulling you out of the fictional world. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Hyuck.
(8:52 PM) Weird guy from the street: can you come open the door
(8:52 PM) Weird guy from the street: my key isn’t working for some reason
Your eyebrows furrow as you read the message "Key? Hyuck has a key?" You mutter to yourself. You've always assumed that when he showed up randomly at your apartment, it was because Jennie, your roommate, had let him in.
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you head to the door. As you swing it open, there stands Hyuck.
"Hey," he greets, a indefinable glint in his eyes. "Can I come in?"
You step aside, allowing him entry, "When did you get a key?”
He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I don't have a key. That's the thing."
You cross your arms and pop an eyebrow, "You literally just texted me saying your key isn’t working."
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Hyuck…” You grumble, “How is it that you randomly show up in the apartment then?”
He smirked, teasingly. "Magic. Or maybe Jennie's magic. I just show up, and the door opens. But seriously, I don't have a key."
You decide to drop the matter. It really wasn’t worth the headache of going back and forth with him. Besides, you really should have caught on sooner. Jennie didn’t like him, yet he was always here to pester you.
“Right…. Are you still drunk?”
“That, I am not.” He walks further into the apartment and starts messing with the stack of papers on the counter – shuffling them. “Mark made sure to leave me the usual hangover cure on my nightstand, so I don’t feel sick either.”
“You know, it’s not really proper to get drunk in the middle of the school day.” You chastise him. There’s not really a reason as to why you’re lecturing him. Can’t a friend just be worried about her other very problematic friend?
His counter comes quick, “I never claimed to be proper. If you took a walk inside my brain, you’d understand.” When you meet his gaze, he gives you a teasing wink. “Now are we ready to go see some girl get her back blown out.”
“Not the words I would use.” You mutter, grabbing your keys and phone off the coffee table in the living room and following Hyuck to the library for the second time that week.
Surprising to you, he keeps the banter to a minimum during the entire five-minute walk. Only once does he comment on your outfit, even though it was a totally normal outfit. Yet according to him you were wearing a ‘too-short cheerleading skirt that showed your ass way too much.’
Besides the one little quip, he kept his mouth shut.
What was even more surprising (as if anything could top Haechan shutting up), was that the library was way too easy to break in to.
Well, does it count as breaking in if it was left unlocked?
According to Hyuck, no. To authorities, probably.
Navigating back to the geology section was easy. All you had to do was take the staircase in the back. Honestly though, it was a bit creepy. The empty library creaked and echoed at the slightest touch. Hyucks heavy steps on the stairs made you jump which made him break his silence and tease you for the rest of the way up.
You didn’t realize this before, but the geology section perfectly overlooked the main floor of the library. Provided, there was a bookshelf blocking the ledge, which added another layer of privacy.
Hm…Hyuck wasn’t a liar.
Na Jaemin was in fact in the library, with a girl at his side, studying, after hours.
Yet, that’s all they were doing – studying. The girl furiously scribbled in her notebook while Jaemin watched. He points out what you assume to be a mistake and the girl giggles, flipping over her pencil to scrub the paper with the eraser.
There’s no denying that they sat closer than normal. She leaned into Jaemins shoulder, and his hand was under the table – probably resting on her thigh. But nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be occurring.
You go to turn around and confront Hyuck. Maybe tell him to shove a rock up his ass. But the front of his body hits your back, caging you against the bookshelf.
“Hyuck…” you warn, voice low.
“Just watch.” He murmurs, arms encircling your waist to pull you closer.
Marks words lick up your spine like a fire, singing every nerve in your body.
It meant so much more to him.
Haechan's exhalations reach you in delicate, soft wafts, caressing the back of your neck and eliciting a tingling sensation as the hairs on your skin stand on end. "See." he murmurs. A shiver runs through you as he traces his fingers along your arms, whispering, "I don't want to say I told you so, but..." he clicks his tongue, nosing your shoulder, "I told you so."
Your gaze remains fixed as Jaemin playfully pulls the girl onto his lap, their textbooks now abandoned and ignored. As she molds herself against him, the hem of her shirt lifts, and Jaemin's fingers instinctively find the revealed skin, tracing intricate patterns. At some point, his hand slips entirely under her t-shirt and drags higher and higher. You can hear his quiet murmurs, between kisses - compliments of her body, her lips, her taste.
It's selfish to think, but Jaemin should be saying those words to you. And maybe that makes you a little on edge – a little pissed off.
"They're only making out," you argue back, voice quiet, "This doesn't prove shit. Even I've done this."
You feel Haechan jolt back in surprise, unanswered questions flooding the tip of his tongue. With who? he wants to ask, but he doesn't. If anything, the questions fuel his eagerness to prove you wrong. He knows Jaemin. For fucks sake, they've been roommates since freshman year.
There's a bite to his tone when he speaks up again, "Just watch."
So, you do.
You watch as Jaemin loses himself in this girl completely, all the while wishing it was you. But no, instead, you're stuck peering through bookshelves, while Haechan presses himself into you from behind at the same time Jaemin pushes his hips up.
"Is this turning you on?" you hiss, head whipping sideways to look at him.
His head dips down to nip at your earlobe, “So?”
“You’re such a pervert.”
“And you aren’t?”
Fair point.
Though, your sexual tendencies were far from voyeuristic, you can’t help but enjoy the scene in front of you – the secret thrill of watching Na Jaemin.
Haechan’s hands slip under the hem of your shirt, mirroring Jaemin. “Want me to stop?” he mumbles.
The argument that breaks out in your head doesn’t hold a candle to the way your body reacts, because maybe, just maybe, letting Haechan fuck you between the shelves of the library isn’t such a bad idea. However, spying on Jaemin, and wishing it was him instead, might be.
But Haechan doesn’t have to know.
And after all, what he doesn’t know can’t kill him.
You shake your head no, sensing his grin against the side of your neck, “I figured as much.”
Jaemins low groan carries across the empty library, and the mere sound leaves goosebumps crawling up your spine.
So, he is a groaner.
You knew it.
Haechans voice replaces the sound, “How about you spread your legs like a good girl and let me take care of you?”
“Right here?” You hiss.
“Is that okay?” He cranes his head over your shoulder so that you could just barely make eye contact, and suddenly you’re transported back to that first night with Haechan. The innocence in his gaze, the longing, the willingness to please you. He just wants to show you that he can take care of you – more than anyone ever could.
Won’t you let him?
Silently, you nod your head – and Haechan wastes no time.
As his fingertips glide along your arms, tiny goosebumps rise in their path. Once they reach the tips of your fingers, he intertwines them with yours, creating a seamless connection, then gently presses both hands against the sturdy shelf of books. The tip of his tongue finds your neck again, swirling patterns into the skin, and the sensation of his touch sends shivers down your spine.
You want to stay like this – focused on Haechan – but the thought that you were missing the real show on the bottom floor, makes you turn your attention to the other two occupants of the library.
It’s unfortunate that the girl in Jaemins lap decided to wear jeans, because watching her struggle to undo the button, while your best friend observes impatiently, makes your head spin. He looks like he wants to rip them off her without a second thought. Instead, he smacks her hands aside with a cheeky grin and swiftly undoes it, shoving his big hand down the front of her jeans. You can’t hear what he whispers into the shell of her ear, but her breathy moans pour from parted lips, carrying across the library.
Haechan’s teeth nip at your shoulder as he untangles one of his hands from yours and curls it around the waist band of your skirt.
“No–” you mumble, “Don’t wanna get undressed here…just…push my panties to the side or something.”
Haechan’s eyes widen behind you, though you can’t see. You only hear the grunt that escapes his lips as he obeys, roughly twisting them to the side.
A shiver runs through you, the stark contrast between how he is now and how he was the other night. He’s rougher now, less gentle, less tender. It’s as if he has something to prove—maybe holding onto you with a firmer grip is the only way for him to believe it’s real. To convince himself that you’re truly his for a second time, even though you swore it would never happen again.
You barely register the sound of foil tearing before his hand moves between you, the cool slide of latex against your skin making your breath hitch. He works quickly, efficiently, like he’s done this a thousand times before—like he can’t afford to waste a second more. The anticipation coils tight in your stomach, and you swear you’re already dizzy by the time he presses against you again.
You have to slap a hand over your trembling lips when Haechan pushes his cock into you so roughly that you tilt forward and nearly lose your footing. His knuckles brushing the inside of your thigh from holding your panties to the side feels like zaps of electricity, and your eyes flutter close again.
This is so bad of you. So very bad. But you don’t mind it. Because right now, he’s fucking you so hard and so fast that you haven’t had any time to adjust. No time to think.
The shelf is shaking, but Haechan can’t find the willpower to care. He can’t find the willpower to care about anything. He doesn’t care if you don’t like him the same. He doesn’t care if you’re just doing this because it’s the right place, right time. He doesn’t care if it’s only happening because you’re enjoying the sight of Jaemin and that girl. He doesn’t fucking care.
Not when he’s the one fucking you, pushing you against the shelves so hard they might just fall over. And when you sigh his name, so breathy and whiny and so perfectly his, he reaffirms that he doesn’t fucking care.
You chose this moment.
You chose him.
If only for a night.
But he’ll take a night. He’d take anything you’d give him – anything you’d be willing to spare.
He feels like he’s transcended the astral plane, the way you suck him in, pussy so wet he’s nearly slipping out with each thrust.
Jaemin is losing his mind too. This girl – whatever her name is – just won’t shut up. She’s babbling about how hot he is, how sexy it is that she’s on his lap right now, how she can’t believe they’re doing this in the middle of the library.
All he wants to do is fuck her mouth so she’ll shut up.
You know that look — the one Jaemin gets when he's on the edge of annoyance. A flicker of doubt crosses your mind. Does he know you're up there watching? Maybe that's what’s setting him off. For a brief second, your heart clenches, cold and uncertain — but then Haechan's lips find your neck, scattering your thoughts like they were never there.
His hand reaches up the front of your body, enclosing itself around your throat. At the same time, Jaemin's hand tightens around the girl's throat, his fingers pressing into her skin with the same slow, deliberate intensity. A choked gasp slips from her lips, mirroring the way your breath shudders under Haechan’s touch. The sight of them, so perfectly aligned, sends a sharp thrill down your spine. “How does it feel?” He mumbles, squeezing just a bit, so that your response comes out quiet and strained.
“Feels good.”
“Just good?
“Feels perfect.” You gasp out.
The room feels hotter as their hands move in sync—tight, possessive. Haechan's thumb brushes along your jawline, eyes flicking between your parted lips and the way your breath catches under his grip. Jaemin mirrors him perfectly, leaning in close to the girl whose whimper fills the space.
“Perfect, huh?” Haechan taunts low in your ear, voice dripping with cocky amusement. His fingers flex around your throat, just enough to make your pulse race.
Jaemin's fingers disappear further down the girl's jeans, knuckles flexing as he works her open — soft wet sounds carrying through the dead silence of the library. His eyes are lidded, lips curled into that lazy, cocky grin you know so well. The one that says he knows exactly what he's doing to her — what he should be doing to you.
Haechan's hips snap harder behind you, forcing your cheek against the cold shelf as the books rattle in protest. His breath is hot on the side of your face, voice low and taunting. "You wish it was him, don't you?"
Your nails scrape against the wood, trying to find something — anything — to ground yourself as the shame pools hotter between your legs.
"No," you lie through clenched teeth.
Haechan laughs, breathless and mean. His hand snakes up your chest, pushing under your shirt to grab at your tits. He squeezes hard enough to make you arch into him, hips rolling back against his cock. "Liar," he spits. "You're dripping down my dick watching him finger some random bitch."
Your eyes snap open, finding Jaemin again. His mouth is on her neck now, pink tongue flicking against the delicate skin as she writhes in his lap. His free hand fists her hair, holding her still — the same way he playfully does with you when he’s holding something high above his head that you can’t reach.
Fuck.
Haechan feels the way your pussy clenches around him at the sight, and the cruel grin that spreads across his face makes your stomach flip. "Filthy little slut... you like pretending I'm him?"
You shake your head no, but Haechan catches your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look straight through the shelves. Straight at Jaemin.
"Then keep your eyes on him while I fuck you. Since that's what you want so bad."
Heat flushes through your entire body — humiliation, desire, and something darker twisting in your gut. You shouldn't want this. You shouldn't want to be fucked like a ragdoll while imagining your best friend is the one splitting you open. But the way Haechan's cock is stretching you — brutal and unrelenting — makes it so fucking hard to care.
The girl on Jaemin's lap starts whining, hips rocking against his hand. Jaemin's mouth drops open in a soft moan, head tipping back against the chair. His fingers are moving faster now — slick, dirty sounds echoing through the stacks.
Haechan's lips brush your ear, voice syrupy sweet. "Wanna come together, baby? Wanna let him hear how good we're being up here?"
You're so close — thighs trembling, pussy clenching around him with every punishing thrust. And the worst part is... you do want it. You want Jaemin to hear you. You want him to know exactly what you're doing — what he's missing out on. What Haechan gets to have while he wastes his time with girls who won't ever know him the way you do.
Haechan's fingers find your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles that send sparks shooting up your spine. "That's it," he groans, hips stuttering. "Come for me, baby. Let him hear how fucking good I fuck you."
A sudden rustle echoes through the library — footsteps approaching, heavy and deliberate. Your breath catches, panic slicing through the haze of pleasure.
You don’t want the pleasure to stop, but the sparks in your stomach are dying down with each jangle of keys you hear. When you turn your head, you see a flashlight sweeping through the aisles of books a few rows over.
“Haechan we gotta go.” You urge.
“W-Wait, just give me, ah fuck, give me two seconds.” He stammers out, hands squeezing and kneading your thighs as he gets closer and closer.
“Hyuck.” You warn,
“Please!” He whines, “I’m so fucking close.”
You roll your eyes and say the thing you know will get him to finish, “Be a good boy and cum for me.”
The words are barely a whisper, yet they cut through the tension like a knife. His body tenses, a low groan rumbling in his throat. His hips buck against yours one last time, a shudder running through him as he spills inside you. The sudden quiet after his release is deafening, broken only by the continued jangling of keys and the soft thud of approaching footsteps.
“Hurry up.” You whisper through gritted teeth.
Haechan curses under his breath, pulling out of you with a slick pop. He rips the condom off, glancing around frantically before stuffing it between the pages of a geology textbook.
“That’s disgusting.” You whisper.
He just shrugs.
"Okay," he breathes, his voice thick with spent desire. "Okay, we go."
He pulls away, and you quickly adjust your clothing, the sound of rustling fabric seeming impossibly loud in the silence. "Come on," you hiss urgently, fingers tightening around Haechan's arm as you dart through the labyrinth of shelves with desperate determination. This stupid fucking geology section was so damn difficult to navigate. Shelves of useless books and glass cases of rocks. You take a wrong turn and end up face to face with a wall.
“This way dumbass.” Haechan whispers, this time grabbing your hand and pulling you in the opposite direction.
Apparently, he knew exactly where to go, dragging you down a few corridors and finally to the back staircase that you had come up earlier. His hand tugs you down the steps so fast you think you might just tumble down them. But when you reach the bottom, he spares you a glance, “You okay?”
“Y-yeah.”
"Hey!” The security guard's shout jolts you, too close for comfort, and you both sprint away once more.
Navigating the bottom floor feels better; fewer shelves clutter the space, replaced by study room cubicles and vacant tables. You trail behind Haechan, relief flooding you as you spot the double doors illuminated by the red exit sign.
At last, you burst through the library doors, the cool night air a balm against the fevered heat of adrenaline that courses through your veins. But as you collide with a figure standing at the edge of the pathway, your heart lurches.
This was it. You were done for. Caught by the security guard for breaking the rules. You just hope they don’t throw you in jail. They couldn’t arrest you, could they?
"Jaemin?" Haechan gasps, his voice a breathless whisper that hangs in the air like a fragile thread.
Forget jail – you might just die here on the spot.
There Jaemin was, his hands holding your arms to steady you. God he really was just solid wall of muscle. But it was just him, no girl in sight.
He peers down at you, mouth dropped in surprise. “What are you two doing here?”
You and Haechan share a quick look and then speak at the same time. “Project.”
Jaemin releases his hold on you and takes a step back, “You don’t share classes.”
“I was helping him.”
“It’s due tonight.” Haechan affirms, still trying to catch his breath, “What were you doing here?”
It’s an accusatory statement – but you didn’t think Haechan had the balls to actually ask it.
Jaemin shoves his hands in his pockets and starts down the path. The both of you follow on his heels, “I was studying.”
“Right.”
“Well, are you guys coming back to the dorm to finish the project?”
“Can’t. I have to go to a Jennie thing, like, right now.” As if on cue, your phone pings with a slew of messages from her – all asking where the hell you were. “Can one of you guys go with me? She’s asking me why I’m late and she’s not gonna be satisfied unless I have a good excuse. But, if I bring one of you guys, she’ll understand.”
Haechan pipes up from beside you incredibly fast. Literally jumping at the chance, “I’ll go.”
“Don’t you have a project to finish?” Jaemin’s voice holds a note of skepticism as he turns his gaze to Hyuck, one eyebrow lifted.
Haechan’s expression falters for a moment, his defense tumbling from his lips, “Yeah, but–”
“You should probably head back to work on it.” You interject, tone firm.
Jaemin nodded in agreement.
If you could get Jaemin to go with you, perhaps the night would lead exactly where you wanted it too…with him between your legs, and another part of the challenge completed.
Sure, you felt bad about literally ditching the boy you were just fooling around with – who you literally made cum in less than ten minutes. But you had a duty. A responsibility.
Right?
Haechan just shoves his hands into his pocket and storms off towards his dorm without another word. Which, by the way, was not the norm for him. He always had to have the last word. Boy must really be butt hurt.
“Jaemin?” you began, turning to face him, a playful glint dancing in your eyes.
“What do I get out of this?” Jaemin's response was quick, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he met your gaze.
You roll your eyes, searching for something that would tip the scale in your favor. “You get to see pretty girls in pretty dresses.”
“Fucking deal.”
So, turns out entering a sorority house in the middle of an event was not a respected nor appreciated thing.
Technically you wouldn’t have been late had Jaemin not insisted on stopping by his dorm so that he could change. He had ‘too many girls to impress’. And then, every outfit he chose, Haechan had some rude comment to make. Thus, making you late.
Girls around the room shoot dirty looks as you and Jaemin scramble in through the door. You tuck your head down, feeling the weight of their judgement. Jaemin, however, seemed to revel in the attention. Instead of trying to blend in, he unabashedly drank in the gazes directed your way. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he winked and waved to some of the girls around you. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his audacity.
What a manslut.
Thankfully, your entrance didn't manage to disrupt Jennie's announcement. The sorority president continued her speech from the front of the room, determined to maintain the flow of the event, even if her sisters were still glaring at you.
As Jennie finished calling the names of all the new sisters, the room erupted into cheers and applause.
Someone starts playing music.
Drinks start flowing.
Jaemin filters off with mumbled excuses of finding said drinks.
And you realize just how fucked you look, literally.
Your disheveled appearance didn't go unnoticed, as Jennie approached your huddled figure. Trying to smooth down your hair and straighten your skirt, she all but sprints over. Her eyes widen when she spots a hickey on your neck.
"You're not helping your case," Jennie teased, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You sure you didn't sleep with him?"
You chuckled nervously, clawing at the mark on your neck, "Not him, someone else."
“Someone else?” She questions, raising an eyebrow. A hint of guilt washes over you; perhaps it's time to open up to her. The expression she wears suggests that if you don't share the information willingly, she might claw it out of you.
You open your mouth and close it, almost mechanically. What were you going to say? Tell her that Haechan decided to have his fun between the shelves of the geology section. Jennie would kill you, like, actually murder you and dump your cold body in the quad fountain. She’s eyeing you expectantly.
“Actually, it was–”
“Y/n! Jennie!” Jaehyun's smooth voice interrupts, catching you off guard. You turned to see him, a playful glint in his eyes. He pushes past a group of people, smiling all the while. Luck must really be on your side this week, because Jennie turns away from you to embrace him, your expected confession already forgotten.
When she pulls away, she shoots you a look. If you squinted, you’d see her pupils replaced by little animated hearts. She really was into him.
“I didn’t know you were in a sorority Y/n.” He paused, eyes flickering between you and Jennie. "You both look amazing."
You chuckled, waving off the idea. "No sorority for me. I'm just here to support Jennie. She's the social butterfly tonight.”
Jennie beamed at the mention of her being a social butterfly, and Jaehyuns compliment, clearly enjoying the attention from both of you. "Oh, you two should chat. Y/n, meet Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is Y/n, my roommate, best friend, partner in crime, etcetera."
Jennie doesn’t know that you’ve both met before, and you guess he doesn’t have the heart to explain it all to her. Unaware of your previous encounters, she continued her introduction “Jae, Y/n is amazing. She’s the one who introduced me to that new coffee shop I’ve been meaning to take you to!”
Jaehyun extends his hand, and you shook it, feeling a subtle spark as your eyes met. "Nice to officially meet you, Y/n. Jennie's been talking about you," he admitted, a smile playing on his lips.
You raised an eyebrow, curious. "Oh, has she now?"
Jennie nodded enthusiastically. "Only good things, I promise! Mostly about the coffee joint."
“About that…” Jaehyun says, pulling out his phone from his pocket and tapping the screen a few times, “I’ve been meaning to get your number so we can go sometime.”
When he hands the phone to Jennie, she all but passes out. A beaming smile overtakes her features as she hastily inputs her number. “I sent myself a text, so you’ll know it’s me.” As Jennie handed back Jaehyun's phone, a newfound excitement radiated from her. "I can't wait for us to check it out together. It's my absolute favorite," she exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to how the boy was now smirking at you.
Jaehyun, still not looking in your roommates direction, gave a nod of agreement. "Absolutely, looking forward to it." He pockets his phone and leans against the wall.
Your roommate shoots you another look, this one of pure giddy delight. “Alright! I’d like to stay and chat with you guys all night, but I got a party to run! Being a Delta Gamma girl means I gotta run around like a chicken with her head cut off. I’ll catch you guys later though?” Jennie shot one last love-struck glance your way before gracefully maneuvering through the crowd, disappearing into the sea of partygoers.
As the music pulsed and the lively atmosphere continued around you, you found yourself standing with Jaehyun, both of you momentarily left to your own devices. Jaemin was nowhere to be found so you might as well enjoy the company of Jeno’s older half-brother.
Jaehyun, ever the smooth talker, leaned in a bit closer, his voice a low murmur over the music. "Well, it looks like it's just you and me now.”
“Seems like it.” You respond, not sure what to say, but Jaehyun interrupts what little silence there was.
"So, Y/n," He begins, "Tell me about Jeno. Been keeping an eye on him?”
Honestly, you hadn't crossed paths with Jeno much this week. The only time you managed to meet up was for lunch earlier in the day, and even then, Jaehyun decided to join, leaving your catch-up session with Jeno cut short.
"Well, I'm not his personal watchdog, but as far as I know he’s doing alright. He’s probably practicing for the game tomorrow.”
Jaehyun's smile widened, and he reached up to casually brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture sent a subtle shiver down your spine. Why did he do that? That was literally so out of the blue. Especially when he just gave your roommate his number.
"Speaking of keeping an eye on things," he teased, his tone now laced with a hint of flirtation, "You seem like you need a drink. Want me to get you one?"
You glance around the room, searching for Jaemin so that you could excuse yourself, but he was nowhere to be found – still.
You sigh, “Yeah, sure. Why not? Surprise me.”
Jaehyun returned shortly with a drink in hand, and as you took a sip, he continued the conversation. "So, tell me about the party last weekend. Did you and Haechan enjoy yourselves?"
The mention of the party made you choke on your drink (that, and the fact that it was literally ninety-five percent tequila and five percent lemonade), surprised by the sudden shift in topic. “Me and Haechan? W-what do you mean?”
He couldn’t know, could he…?
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, smirking so wide his dimples hollowed out his cheeks. It was kind of cute – in an objective way, of course. “Well, you guys went off during spin the bottle, right?”
Oh, you had totally forgotten about that.
“Yeah, but we didn’t do anything.” You wave your hand in front of your face and take another sip of your drink. It wasn’t entirely a lie – you didn’t do anything at the party.
He hums and takes a sip of his own drink. Swallowing it hard, he gestures to you, “Well, I can clearly see a hickey on your neck, so who has the pleasure of getting at you?”
Your drink nearly becomes a choking hazard once more. Attempting to articulate a response, you struggle as the words seem to get caught in your throat. God damn tequila.
“Was it Jaemin?”
Now that…that about killed you. You wished it had been Jaemin’s lips on your neck, his hands on your body, his co- “Hate to burst your bubble, but me and Jaemin are just friends.” You give him a wry smile, “It was just some dude in my class.”
“Some dude?” He smirks, and those damn dimples come out again.
You nod, “Unfortunately.”
He lifts his cup to his lips and utters, almost muffled by the rim of the solo cup, "I bet I could do better."
“Is that so?” You quip, the words leaving your mouth faster than you can comprehend. There’s no justification for the thoughts seeping into your brain. This was supposed to be Jennies man. Jeno’s brother. A friend and nothing more.
But those dimples.
And that suit he was wearing. All black tie, shiny shoes, and crisp white button up.
You could blame it on the alcohol.
You could blame it on Haechan leaving you high and dry.
You could blame it on a million other things…
But one thing is for certain: You just might regret this in the morning.
You’re definitely going to regret this in the morning.
When the windows of his car fog up, you notice the faded presence of heart shapes delicately traced by the touch of someone’s finger.
Probably his ex.
Unfortunately, this is the only thing you manage to focus on while Jaehyun fisted a handful of your hair, yanking your head back. His thrusts were fast and pointed and damn near painful.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He groans.
Maybe if you could focus really hard, you’d be able to finish, but when he snakes his hand around your waist and starts rubbing the side of your leg, you realize that that wasn’t going to happen.
“Feel good?” The cockiness drips from his lips, and it almost makes you laugh. Poor thing, at least he was hot.
“Mhm.” It’d feel better if he slowed down and stopped jackhammering into you.
The leather seats of his car stick against your skin when you try to lift up onto your elbows. It was pretty spacious, but with Jaehyun all but laying on top of you, it felt more than cramped.
His hand rubs harder, “Don’t hold back baby, cum for me.”
Did he really believe you were close to finishing? You weren’t making any sounds, not shaking, not moaning for him to keep going or go faster. But genuinely, if you told him the truth, it would probably break his ego in half. Or prompt him to actually get better at sex.
You decide to just fake it. “Fuck Jae…Feels good.”
His voice is strained, “Don’t call me Jae.”
“Sorry–” You mumble, head dipping under the weight of his heavy hand that comes to grab at the back of your neck. His other hand was already wrapped up in your hair, but the other steadies himself while he continues to fuck into you.
“Call me daddy.” He breathes.
Of course he’d have a daddy kink.
You amp your voice up a bit “F-Fuck, daddy, love your cock.” Apparently, this was exactly what he wanted because he starts humming in satisfaction, “Want your cum.” You just wanted him to be done.
The tips of his ears turn red, pace faltering when the name rolls off your tongue. “Baby...fuck” He keeps it just like that, disjointedly fucking into you as he came – thank god he had a condom on. But he doesn’t pull out right away, instead keeping still until his breathing returned to normal. You just kinda awkwardly sit there, panting.
“That was really good.” He chuckles, pulling out and sitting down on the seat. You fix yourself too, sitting beside him. Your skirt is down on the floorboard, so you bend down to get it and start to put it back on. You felt sticky and sore and not satisfied at all.
The silence becomes more awkward than it should have been, so you speak up, “So…you have a daddy kink?”
He opens the car door and drops the condom on the ground – which was really fucking gross, but what other choice did he have?
“Yeah…I don’t know, it’s something new I guess.”
Continuing to awkwardly fumble around for something to say you ask another question, “Oh, you were experimenting?”
“I guess.” The awkwardness starts to creep back in again. He wasn’t good at pillow talking, was he? He wasn’t good at much anything when it came to sex, you guess. Throwing on his shirt, he starts to get dressed while you twist your hands together in your lap.
You shifted uncomfortably, “Um, I should probably go find Jennie,” you mumbled, avoiding direct eye contact with Jaehyun.
He seemed oblivious, choosing to focus on the button of his jeans, “Sounds good. Think ‘m gonna head home.” When he did look up, he gave you a genuine smile, “You okay to walk?”
“Yeah,” you replied, “I think I’m good.”
What is it with guys and asking if you were okay to walk after? It’s not like they’re paralyzing you with their magical cock.
As he sat there, you couldn't help but think this dude needed a serious sex ed lesson, and then a follow-up on how to treat a girl after putting her through... that.
“If you ever wanna do this again, you have my number,” he said casually.
You didn’t have his number, and you would never get it. You forced a smile, “Absolutely!”
He got out of the car, and you followed suit, stepping out onto the street and discreetly fixing your clothes so that it looked like you hadn’t been cramped in the back seat of someone’s car. He made his way to the driver’s side door and opened it, “You gonna be at the game on Sunday?”
“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it. Jeno would kill me, you know.”
He nodded, seemingly unfazed, "Great, hopefully I’ll see you there."
You waved a half-hearted goodbye as he got into his car. When he pulled out of sight, you muttered to yourself, lesson learned, boundaries set.
Turning on your heel, you went back inside the sorority house. The vibrant energy of the party still pulsed through the air. You wonder where this night would have gone had you stayed. Too late for that now. Now you were just unsatisfied and pissed off.
Frowning, you spot Jaemin across the room sitting on a couch. Some girl has her arm thrown around him and they’re laughing. His pink hair falls into his eyes when he looks at her and she reaches a hand up to move the tumbled strands. Her other hand rubs his arms, and he annoyingly flexes. They were three seconds away from kissing and honestly, it pissed you off even more.
Rolling your eyes, you march over to him, damn near pushing people out of the way. Some tell you to watch where you’re going but you ignore them, entirely focused on Jaemin and whoever this girl was.
“Hey Y/N” he cheerfully greets, giving you a beaming smile, “This is Vera.” He gestures to the girl by his side
You grabbed his upper arm, shaking Vera’s grip off of his other one, and pulling him upright – away from her. "Come on, we're leaving," you declared, not in the mood for his flirtatious antics. His bicep flexes, and you find yourself even more desperate to get the fuck out of the sorority house and home to where you could give yourself a proper orgasm.
Jaemin protested, trying to resist your tug. "Dude, what the fuck.” He lowers his voice, “Can’t you see I’m with a girl.”
You shot him a stern look, "You're my date?? This is so rude."
Vera just gives a nervous laugh. Probably afraid that you’d hit her if she tried something. You wouldn’t, but she didn’t know that.
He chuckled, still trying to charm his way out of the situation, "Come on, don't be like that. She's cute, and I was just having a chat." He lowers his voice again, this time whining, “Dude we were just about to go back to her place, don’t fuck this up for me please!”
Ignoring his protests, you start to drag him toward the exit. He finally relented, realizing you were serious about leaving. As you reached the door, he turned to Vera and mouthed, "Call me!"
You shook your head, muttering under your breath, "Unbelievable."
Outside, the cool night air hit you, and you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the evening. "Note to self: choose Haechan next time."
The campus path stretched ahead as you stormed down it, frustration evident in every step. Jaemin followed behind for a few minutes until he got fed up. When he finally catches up, he grabs your shoulder and spins you around.
"What's got you so mad?" he asked, a bemused expression on his face.
You took a deep breath, deciding to let it out. "Jeno's brother.”
“What about Jeno’s brother? Did he try something…I swear to God Y/N, if he tried something-”
You cut him off, “He sucks at sex.” The embarrassment creeps up your spine the longer Jaemin stares at you with wide eyes.
“Wait you…” Jaemin burst into laughter, his amusement echoing through the pathway. "No fucking way…” He clutches his stomach and doubles over, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes like you just said the funniest thing in the world, “Jeno’s brother?”
You shot him a look, still seething, but Jaemin's laughter was contagious, and soon you found yourself smiling despite your annoyance.
"What? Did he have a small dick or something?” Jaemin teased, the corners of his lips still twitching with mirth.
Eyes rolling, you cross your arms over your chest. “More like he thinks giving me an orgasm means rubbing the side of my thigh for five minutes while he fucks like a jack rabbit.”
“Oh my god.” Jaemin doubles over in laughter again, “Now I know why his girl left him.”
“Not funny.”
“Come on,” He chuckles, “Don’t be mad, laugh it off.”
You sighed, "I'm not mad, Jaemin. I'm sexually frustrated."
The laughter died down instantly as Jaemin's expression shifted. "Oh," he says, a hint of realization dawning in his eyes.
"Yeah, oh," you replied, not expecting such a reaction. What was he thinking? And why was he looking at you like that?
After a moment of silence, Jaemin speaks up, his voice softer now. "I’ll do it.”
A breeze passes through the quad, making you shiver. You rub your arms to bring warmth back into them, barely registering Jaemins words, “You’ll do what? Fuck his ex better than he ever could?”
“No,” he chuckles, “I’ll fuck you better than he ever could.”
It’s almost like the world tips over and starts swimming in your vision, because there’s no way, on Gods green fucking earth, that Na Jaemin just offered to fuck you. What happened to not even touching you with a ten-foot pole? Was there sex pollen in the air or something? Did that girl slip something into Jaemins' drink? What happened to being just friends?
But Na Jaemin was just a boy
And you were just a girl. One that was in desperate need of an orgasm.
He seemed to pick up on your hesitation, prompting him to move a step closer and begin clarifying, “Look, I won’t make it weird or anything.” Extending his hand, he gently caresses your arm, and you allow it. “Just a friend helping out a friend, right?”
“But…Why?”
As long as you’d known Jaemin there was no sexual chemistry whatsoever. Except for the last couple weeks when this challenge shit started. But you could have sworn that was all one sided, stemming from your overactive, horny ass brain that needed to be satiated.
“I guess I have a thing for helping those in need…you know, tutoring and all.”
You chew on your bottom lip, “Makes sense…”
Could this night possibly help you complete the second part of the challenge? Was fucking Na Jaemin going to be this easy?
His hand continues to stroke the side of your arm and goosebumps break out on the exposed skin. “Come on Y/N, you deserve an actual orgasm after having to put up with that.”
You raise an eyebrow, “And you think you can give me one?”
“Oh I know I can. Multiple if you’d like.” His words bite through the air, confidence dripping from his lips. Except, instead of it being cocky and very not true like Jaehyun earlier, you could sense he was telling the truth. And thinking back to the video he showed you weeks ago, of him fucking that girl and making her squirt, you realize, Jaemin is exactly who you want right now.
But maybe you want him to work for it a little more, after all, he was the slut in the friend group. (Even if you were the one that already had two cocks in you tonight).
Taking a step closer, you gaze into his eyes, “You talk a big game, Na Jaemin.”
God, he looked fucking good. Button up slightly askew, taunt collar bones peeking through the top. You want to rip it right off of him and get to the muscle’s underneath.
He mirrors your stare, “And I can back it up.” Time stands still when he gives you a once over, biting his lip when he gets to the (as hyuck called it) short ass cheerleading skirt you wore, “Look, I won’t even cum if you don’t want me too. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Desperation rolls off his tongue, and if you had looked closely enough, you’d notice the front of his pants tightening. He never thought about you in this kind of way. You were always off limits to him. A girl he could never claim. But now…with you staring at him like you wanted to bite him (odd, though he’s gotten more feral reactions from other girls before), he can’t help but think about you naked in his bed. Begging for his cock. Begging for him. And well, that made him hard.
“Whatever I want?”
He repeats his words, “Whatever you want.” Voice dropping to barely above a whisper, he gives you another once over, “You can use me as your personal sex toy.”
“Oh, but I’m not Vera?” At this point, you were teasing him – and he knew it. “Thought you wanted her?”
He laughs, “Maybe, but you’re definitely prettier than her.” It catches him by surprise when he notices that it’s true. You were prettier than her. In fact, now that he’s noticing, you were prettier than about ninety five percent of the girls on this campus. How the fuck had he not noticed before? Or maybe he had…maybe this is the first time he’s wanted to admit it to himself. “Come on, I’m so much better than the rubber shit you’d be using if you went home alone.”
You step closer, almost chest-to-chest with him, “And how do you know I’d be using rubber; I have perfectly good hands-”
He leans in, bringing his face inches from yours, "Not better than mine." His eyes drift down to your lips, only to return and lock onto your gaze. "And we both know that."
There’s only a sliver of sanity left in your body to stop you from kissing him right then, right there, in the middle of campus.
“Jaemin.” You whisper.
“Yeah baby?”
That sanity was slipping further and further away.
“What’s the fastest route to your dorm?”
A. NOTE. read the the note at the beginning of this post. and don't forget to reblog :)
In which Jaemin’s father, the Ceo of Samsung decides to move the family to a small town and makes him work at a diner. Where he meets the It girl of the town and gets along with her, only for him to get involved in drama with her ex boyfriend. Jaemin just wants to get to know her and how it is to live her life.
Paring: Rich kid Jaemin x Fem reader
Genre: social media au, written parts, summer au, fluff, slight angst, slow burn, strangers to lovers
Extras: vulgar language, smoking/vapes, alcohol consumption, abusive relationships, sexual jokes, lots of use of term baby, babydoll towards y/n, idk if there is more I’m just starting 🥲
Status: completed
Started: June 19th, 2025
Ended: September 3rd, 2025
Authors note: this is my first ever story/au! I’m very excited and nervous to release this but I hope you guys enjoy it 😋 I’ve wanted to make a jaemin story for a while so why not start now.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are welcomed and appreciated (especially comments, I’m not too familiar with tumblr yet)
I don’t view the idols in these ways and I don’t know them personally, this is all fake and just a story
-Pls don’t steal my work as well, everything is my original work and it’s appreciated if you don’t copy-
A/n: As promised, here it is! Jaemin and daycare suits so well when I thought about it so I ended up using that idea as my inspiration!
Genre: Single mom au, Romance, Fluff
Pairings: Daycare Teacher!Jaemin x Single mom!Haeyi
Warnings: none
Jaemin was wiping down the low tables when the clock above the cubbies ticked past six.
Classes were long over. The room no longer hummed with noise, only the soft clatter of toys and the occasional laugh from the few children whose parents hadn’t arrived yet. Crayon boxes were stacked. Mats were rolled. The smell of disinfectant mixed faintly with crayons and juice.
In the corner by the window, Haon was completely in his element.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, tongue peeking out in concentration as he drew. Across from him, Si-ah posed dramatically, chin lifted, hands pressed to her cheeks like a model mid-photoshoot.
“Make sure I look pretty,” Si-ah said seriously.
Haon hummed in response, pencil moving without hesitation.
Jaemin paused, cloth in hand, watching.
Haon didn’t talk much. Never had. But when he focused, the world seemed to quiet around him. His lines were careful. Confident. Like he already knew where everything belonged.
Jaemin checked the time again.
If Jeno didn’t show up soon, Jaemin would just walk Si-ah home like always. Their apartments were next door anyway. That part was easy.
Haon, though—
His gaze flicked back to the cubbies.
Three emergency contact numbers. All unanswered.
And Jaemin still hadn’t properly met Haon’s mom. Only the back of her once, rushing out in heels and a long coat, voice apologizing over her shoulder.
He sighed.
Haon was sweet. Polite. Adaptable. But being the last kid picked up almost every day… Jaemin had already decided he’d need to talk to his mom about it. Gently—but firmly.
The door slid open with a rush of air.
Jaemin turned just in time to see Jeno stumble in, panting, tie loose, hair a mess like he’d run the whole way.
“Daddy!”
Si-ah squealed and bolted across the room. Jeno scooped her up immediately, pressing his face into her hair.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he laughed breathlessly. “Traffic was insane.”
Behind them, Haon finished his drawing.
Si-ah wriggled out of Jeno’s arms and ran back, eyes lighting up when Haon handed her the paper.
“It’s so pretty!” she cheered, holding it up like a trophy.
Haon smiled. Small. Satisfied.
Jeno straightened and walked over to Jaemin, pulling three coupons from his pocket.
“My friend gave me these—new place down the street,” he said. “You free?”
Jaemin shook his head apologetically. “Sorry. I still have to wait for Haon to get picked up.”
Jeno blinked. “Haon? Oh—he and Si-ah always have playdates.”
Jaemin hesitated. “Do you know his mom?”
Jeno shook his head. “Not really. His aunt or grandma usually drops him off. Picks him up too.”
He bent and patted Haon’s head gently before standing again.
Jaemin exhaled slowly.
It had been over an hour.
This was only his first month in charge of the class, and aside from Jeno, he didn’t know the parents well enough to tell what was normal.
“I can wait,” Jeno offered. “Si-ah can keep him company.”
Jaemin nodded gratefully.
Minutes passed.
Then headlights washed across the windows.
A large car screeched to a stop outside, and before Jaemin could process it, the door flew open.
A woman nearly tripped getting out, heels scraping the pavement as she hurried toward the entrance.
The door slid open hard.
“I’m so sorry!!!”
The woman burst inside, breathless, hair slightly undone, eyes frantic.
Haon immediately began packing his bag.
Jaemin blinked. “Are you here for Haon?”
“Yes—yes,” she panted. “I’m so sorry. I was just about to pick him up when my son’s school called—he got injured during football practice, his bone cracked, we had to rush him to the hospital and—” She took a breath, visibly forcing herself to slow down. “The moment I realized, I drove straight here. I’m so sorry.”
She knelt in front of Haon, hands gentle but trembling.
“I’m so sorry, honey. It won’t happen again.”
Haon nodded calmly, zipping his bag.
Jaemin cleared his throat. “Mrs…? Haon’s mom, can we talk for a moment? I’m Na Jaemin. I got assigned to Haon’s class last month.”
She stood, still catching her breath.
“He’s often the last to be picked up,” Jaemin continued carefully. “Even today he waited over an hour, and I just don’t think that’s good for Haon—”
“Wait.”
The woman frowned slightly.
“Haon’s mom?” she repeated.
She let out a small, incredulous laugh.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m his grandmother.”
Jaemin froze.
“…Heh?”
The woman laughed lightly and waved her hand.
“Oh—no, no. You must be mistaken,” she said gently. “His mom is my daughter. He’s my grandson.”
Jaemin blinked, heat creeping up his neck.
Before he could respond, Jeno’s face lit up with recognition.
“Oh—wait,” Jeno said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry. You and Haon’s aunt look really similar, so I got confused.”
The woman chuckled. “I don’t blame you. My daughters and I all look the same. It happens more often than you’d think.”
She turned back to Jaemin, her expression softening.
“I really am sorry about today,” she said. “My youngest son is in his senior year of high school. He fractured his leg during practice, so I had to take him to the hospital. In the rush, I thought I’d already picked Haon up. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized I hadn’t.”
Jaemin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, guilt seeping in where concern had been.
“I understand emergencies happen,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “My elder daughter usually picks him up. But something came up at work today. I was supposed to cover, and… well.”
Jaemin hesitated, then asked, “So his aunt usually picks him up?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Most days.”
She glanced toward Haon, who was calmly slipping his drawing into his bag, entirely unbothered by the adults’ conversation.
“Haon’s mom is my younger daughter,” she continued. “She’s an ER doctor. Her hours are… unpredictable. So we help where we can.”
Jaemin’s breath caught—just a little.
An ER doctor.
His gaze drifted back to Haon.
The boy wasn’t restless. Wasn’t upset. He sat patiently, shoes already on, posture relaxed, eyes bright as he waited.
Everything clicked into place.
The quiet confidence.
The calm waiting.
The way he never panicked when pickup ran late.
Jaemin felt something inside him shift—an uncomfortable awareness of the assumptions he’d almost voiced.
“I see,” he said finally, softer now. “Thank you for explaining.”
The woman smiled, relieved. “He’s a good boy. Always has been.”
Jaemin nodded, watching as Haon stood and walked over to his grandmother, slipping his small hand into hers without a word.
Yes, he thought.
He really is.
Haon slipped his backpack onto his shoulders and turned back toward the room.
“Goodnight, teacher,” he said softly, lifting his hand in a small wave.
Jaemin smiled without thinking. “Goodnight, Haon.”
“Bye, Haon!” she chirped, waving both hands wildly.
He hesitated for a second, then added, just as politely, “Goodnight, Si-ah’s dad.”
Jeno blinked, then laughed, touched. “Goodnight, buddy.”
Haon gave one last wave—unhurried, content—and followed his grandmother out the door.
Jaemin watched until it slid shut.
Jaemin was still smiling as the door slid shut behind Haon.
“He’s a really nice boy,” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Si-ah nodded immediately. “Haon looks and behaves just like his mommy.”
Jaemin blinked. Jeno looked down at his daughter.
“How do you know his mommy?” Jeno asked.
Si-ah swung her backpack over her shoulder. “Before Uncle Jaemin became our teacher, Haon’s mom came during career week to talk about her job. Uncle Jaemin was teaching the other class back then.”
Jaemin’s brows furrowed as he searched his memory.
Jeno stopped walking.
“…Wait,” he said slowly. “That doctor from Kwangya Central Hospital is Haon’s mommy?”
Si-ah nodded, very certain.
Jaemin’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh. She’s our age then.”
Jeno frowned. “That’s kind of impossible, though.”
Si-ah tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because doctors are old,” Jeno said simply.
Si-ah shook her head. “She lives in the hospital.”
Jaemin and Jeno both stopped.
“…What?”
“Yes,” Si-ah said matter-of-factly. “She lives there.”
They resumed walking toward Jeno’s car, still processing, when suddenly Jaemin snapped his fingers.
“Residency,” he said. “You mean residency?”
Si-ah’s face lit up. “Yes! That!”
Jeno laughed, shaking his head. “Kids really do say things in the scariest way possible.”
Jaemin chuckled too, but his mind was already elsewhere.
A doctor their age.
An ER resident.
A mother who spent every free moment with her son.
Somehow, without even meeting her yet, Jaemin felt like he already knew her a little.
Later that night, Haeyi tucked Haon into bed.
She sat beside him until his breathing evened out, fingers brushing through his hair as she hummed softly. Only when he was fully asleep did she finally step out of the room, closing the door carefully behind her.
Her mother looked up from the couch.
“Unless I get called in,” Haeyi said quietly, “I won’t have to go early tomorrow. So I’ll be able to drop Haon off at daycare.”
Her mother smiled. “That’s good.”
She paused, then added, “I would’ve told you to just rest, but it’ll be healing for both of you. For him—and for you.”
Haeyi nodded, leaning against the wall, already feeling lighter.
“Oh,” her mother continued casually, “today his teacher thought I was his mom and scolded me about Haon being picked up late.”
Haeyi winced. “Oh no…”
She waved a hand. “It’s fine. Honestly, it was nice. It means the teachers care about the kids. Haon’s in good hands.”
Then she smiled, eyes twinkling.
“And his teacher is good-looking too.”
Haeyi groaned immediately, rubbing her face. “Mom, please. I’m not interested.”
Her mother laughed. “You never know~”
She stood and gently nudged Haeyi toward her room.
“Go sleep before Haon wakes up. And make sure you look fresh tomorrow,” she added teasingly. “You’ll thank me once you meet Haon’s teacher.”
Haeyi rolled her eyes—but the faint smile she couldn’t hide followed her all the way to bed.
—
The next morning, Haon was practically glowing.
He bounced in place as Haeyi brushed through his soft curls, chuckling despite herself.
“Haonie excited?” she asked.
In the kitchen, her mother was packing his lunch, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.
Haon nodded enthusiastically, feet still hopping. “Mm!”
“But I like when Grandma and Auntie do drop-off too,” he added seriously.
His grandmother leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Of course you do.”
After goodbyes and one last check for his lunchbox, they headed out.
Haeyi drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching back to squeeze Haon’s fingers when he leaned forward between the seats, humming to himself.
The daycare was already lively when they arrived.
As soon as they stepped inside the compound, Haeyi spotted him.
Na Jaemin stood near the entrance, sleeves rolled up, greeting parents with easy smiles and gentle nods. He crouched to children’s eye level, taking bags, fixing straps, listening like he had all the time in the world.
Haeyi paused for half a second.
Oh.
She shook it off quickly and opened the car door.
“Okay,” she said softly, helping Haon down. She straightened his clothes, smoothed his shirt, and took his bag before holding his hand.
Haon bounced beside her, practically vibrating with excitement as they walked in together.
Jaemin looked up just as they approached.
And for the first time—
He saw her.
Jaemin’s attention shifted instantly to the small figure bouncing at her side.
“Teacher!” Haon greeted brightly, waving with both hands.
Jaemin’s face lit up. “Good morning, Haon.”
Only then did his gaze lift—really lift—to the woman standing behind him.
She bowed slightly, polite and warm.
“You must be his teacher,” she said. “Thank you for taking such good care of my son. He talks a lot about you.”
She smiled. “I’m Haon’s mom. Song Haeyi.”
For half a second, Jaemin forgot how to speak.
So this was her.
Not rushing. Not a silhouette disappearing through a door. Just… here. Calm. Tired in a way that spoke of long nights, but bright-eyed, present.
“Oh—” He straightened quickly, returning the bow. “I’m Na Jaemin. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Utterly perfect, Haeyi thought despite herself, immediately scolding the thought away. Handsome in an effortless way. Gentle. Exactly the kind of person you trusted with children without needing proof.
“I’ve heard a lot about you too,” Jaemin added, smiling down at Haon. “He’s a great kid.”
Haon beamed, slipping his hand into his mother’s like it belonged there.
Haeyi felt her chest warm.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “That means a lot.”
Jaemin took Haon’s bag carefully, already familiar with its weight. “We’ll have a good day, won’t we?”
Haon nodded eagerly.
Haeyi crouched down and opened her arms.
Haon stepped into them immediately, hugging her tight. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, then another, breathing him in like she always did.
“Have a great day,” she said softly.
Haon pulled back just enough to grin up at her and waved with all the confidence in the world.
“I will, Mommy!”
Jaemin watched as Haeyi straightened, gave one last small wave, and turned to leave.
Haon stood beside him, still smiling, until she disappeared past the gate—calm, content, completely secure.
That afternoon, Haeyi surprised even herself.
She arrived early.
The moment Haon spotted her, his face lit up. He dropped what he was doing and ran straight into her arms, hugging her tightly.
“Mommy!”
Haeyi laughed, crouching to catch him. She kissed the top of his head, holding him for an extra second before looking up.
Jaemin was nearby, tidying up.
She smiled at him. “Today’s my lucky day. It wasn’t very busy.”
“That’s amazing,” Jaemin said genuinely.
Haeyi glanced down at Haon. “Should we go home?”
Haon pouted immediately. “Can we wait?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Wait for what?”
“Si-ah and Dawon’s daddies still didn’t come yet.”
Jaemin opened his mouth. “It’s really fine—”
But Haeyi noticed the way Haon’s eyes lingered on his friends, the way he shifted closer to them instead of the door.
She smiled.
“Of course we can,” she said easily. “We can make up for all the times they waited with you.”
She looked to Jaemin for confirmation.
He smiled and nodded. “You’re welcome to stay.”
They settled back inside.
Haeyi stood near the doorway at first, taking it all in.
“So this is where my son spends most of his days,” she murmured.
Her gaze followed Haon as he slipped seamlessly back into play, laughing softly, moving with that quiet confidence she knew so well.
Then she noticed it.
A small kiddie cup on the counter—filled with green tea.
She looked up.
Jaemin smiled sheepishly. “Well… you’re in for a ride, Miss Song. Si-ah and Dawon’s dads don’t usually come until six.”
He gestured to the cup. “Sorry. We don’t really have grown-up cups.”
Haeyi laughed, genuinely this time. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”
She took a sip, the cup warm in her hands.
“It’s nice,” she said softly, eyes still on Haon. “Seeing him in his element.”
Jaemin watched her over the rim of his own cup.
And for the first time, waiting didn’t feel like a burden to either of them.
Haeyi glanced over at Jaemin, still holding the small cup between her hands.
“I’ve never seen you whenever I came before,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you just start working here?”
Jaemin shook his head with a small smile. “I’ve been here for four years. I was just never assigned to Haon’s class before. It’s only been about a month.”
“Oh.” She paused. “Then… what happened to Mrs. Lee?”
“She retired,” he replied. “Moved to Jeju.”
Haeyi blinked. “Wow. Okay. I didn’t know that.”
She looked back toward Haon, watching him carefully stack blocks with Dawon, focused and calm.
“But,” she added softly, “I’m happy you’re his teacher too. Haon always talks about you during dinner.”
Jaemin placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “Bless his beautiful heart.”
She laughed.
“I really like Haon,” he continued more sincerely. “He’s very adaptable. And sweet. He doesn’t talk much, but he gets along with everyone.”
Something warm settled in Haeyi’s chest.
Time passed without either of them noticing.
Their conversation drifted—from underrated coffee blends to why instant coffee tasted better at 2 in the morning, to college, to high school.
“Oh my gosh,” Haeyi said suddenly. “You went to Seuli too?”
Jaemin’s eyes widened. “What a small world.”
After that day, it became a quiet pattern.
Even on days when Haeyi dropped him off early, or when she rushed in late or only managed a quick wave, they talked. A few words. A shared smile. Sometimes a cup of coffee balanced between them.
And little by little, Jaemin started leaving notes in Haon’s bag.
He ate well today.
He drew something special.
He was a little grumpy after nap time but felt better.
Haeyi always replied.
Sometimes with short messages.
Sometimes with small stickers.
Sometimes with a line about what happened at home.
It was nothing dramatic.
Just two adults learning how to care for the same small, wonderful person—together.
Soon enough, they exchanged numbers.
At first, it was strictly about Haon.
He ate all his lunch today.
He fell asleep holding his pencil.
He asked if you were working late.
Then it shifted—softly, without either of them acknowledging it.
Good luck today.
Did you get home safe?
Good night.
Sometimes, Jaemin sent pictures.
Haon proudly holding up a drawing.
Haon sitting quietly by the window.
Haon smiling, small and content.
Haeyi saved every single one.
That week was brutal.
She didn’t go home one night. Then another. She lived off coffee and adrenaline, scrubs blending into one long day. She hadn’t dropped Haon off even once—only heard about him through messages and photos.
She felt guilty. Constantly.
But whenever she apologized, Haon had smiled through the phone and said, “It’s okay, Mommy. I’m happy you tried.”
That evening, she finally stepped outside the hospital.
A convenience store glowed softly across the street.
She sat on the plastic stool, ramen steaming in front of her, a bag of chips pushed to the side. Her phone scrolled mindlessly through social media while her body ran on fumes.
She was halfway through a bite when someone sat down beside her.
She turned.
Jaemin smiled at her.
“Hey, beautiful~”
She gasped softly. “Jaemin? What are you doing here?”
He shrugged easily. “Didn’t feel like eating at home. Came out for a bit… and then I saw you.”
He glanced at her cup of coffee, the ramen, the tired slump of her shoulders.
“So,” he asked gently, “how are you doing?”
Something in her gave way.
She sighed and leaned forward, elbows on the counter, shoulders sagging.
“Tired,” she said. “Exhausted. Burnt out.”
A laugh slipped out, shaky and unconvincing, as she wiped at her eyes.
“Oh gosh,” she murmured. “What am I doing?”
She laughed again, but this time her eyes stung.
Jaemin didn’t rush to say anything.
He just sat there, close enough that she felt it, quiet enough that she didn’t feel embarrassed.
“You’re surviving,” he said finally. “That’s what you’re doing.”
She swallowed.
Jaemin smiled softly, then let out a quiet chuckle as he stood and pulled her into a hug.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t awkward.
Just warm arms around her shoulders, one hand gently patting the back of her head as she let out a small, broken laugh that turned into tears.
“Hey,” he murmured, holding her a little tighter. “You’re doing great.”
She shook her head weakly against his chest, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Most people would’ve given up by now,” he continued gently. “But here you are. Still working hard. Still loving your son. Still showing up—even when you’re exhausted.”
Her fingers curled into his jacket without thinking.
For a moment, the world shrank to the hum of the convenience store fridge and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face.
Without a word, he lifted his hand and carefully wiped the tears from under her eyes with his thumb, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t afraid she’d break.
“It’s okay to be tired,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
Haeyi let out a shaky breath, nodding.
“…Thank you,” she whispered.
Jaemin smiled at her again—gentler this time—and gestured toward her ramen.
“Eat,” he said. “You need fuel.”
And somehow, sitting there beside him, spoon warm in her hand, the night felt a little less heavy.
Jaemin cleared his throat, suddenly a little awkward.
“Uh… Haon drew something today,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kind of… different.”
Haeyi looked up from her cup. “Different how?”
He reached into his bag and carefully pulled out a folded sheet of paper, smoothing it before handing it to her.
She took it without much thought.
Then she froze.
It was simple—crayons, uneven lines, familiar soft colors. Haon stood in the middle, small smile on his face. On one side was her, hair drawn long, hand reaching out. On the other—
Jaemin.
Holding Haon’s other hand.
Her breath caught.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“I didn’t tell him to draw that,” Jaemin said quickly, quietly. “He just… gave it to me before nap time.”
Haeyi swallowed, eyes still fixed on the page.
“He didn’t say much,” Jaemin added. “Just said, ‘This is nice.’”
Her fingers tightened slightly around the paper.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t loud.
But it felt like something important had been placed gently between them.
“He does that,” she said softly after a moment. “When something feels safe to him.”
Jaemin looked at her then. Really looked.
Haeyi lifted her gaze, eyes a little glossy, lips pressed together as if she was holding something back.
“He doesn’t imagine things lightly,” she continued. “If he drew this… it means he feels comfortable. With you.”
Jaemin’s chest warmed in a way he hadn’t expected.
“I’d never want to overstep,” he said carefully. “I just thought you should see it.”
She nodded, then smiled—small, sincere.
“I’m glad you showed me,” she said. “Thank you… for being someone he feels that way with.”
Their eyes met.
The drawing rested between them on the table, quiet and unassuming.
And suddenly, the future felt a little closer than either of them was ready to admit.
Jaemin looked at her for a long moment—really looked.
Then, almost without thinking, he lifted his hand and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s a crime to be so beautiful,” he said quietly, like it was an observation rather than a line.
Haeyi’s breath hitched. Heat rushed to her face and she laughed softly, shaking her head.
“Don’t,” she murmured. “I’m a mess. I haven’t even washed my hair all week.”
Jaemin smiled, slow and fond.
“Messes are beautiful,” he said. “And messes are welcome when you’re with me.”
Something in her chest loosened at that.
She looked at him then—not as Haon’s mom, not as an exhausted doctor—but just as herself. Tired, human, trying.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The drawing lay between them.
The convenience store hummed around them.
And in that quiet space, it felt less like something beginning—and more like something finally being allowed.
Jaemin smiled again, softer this time, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
It was brief. Careful.
But Haeyi froze anyway.
Her ears burned as she hurriedly lifted her chopsticks again, clearly flustered—and promptly inhaled a noodle the wrong way.
She started coughing.
“Hey—hey!” Jaemin panicked instantly, standing and patting her back. “Careful, doc. We can’t have you choking now, can we?”
She managed to wave him off between coughs, face turning a deep, unmistakable red before she finally laughed, breathless.
“Okay—okay—I’m alive,” she said, chuckling.
Jaemin laughed too, relief clear on his face as he sat back down. “Good. That would’ve been very ironic.”
They talked a little longer after that—about nothing important and everything comforting. Work. Coffee. How Haon insisted on lining up his toys before bed. The kind of conversation that didn’t drain what little energy she had left.
When she finally stood to leave, slinging her bag over her shoulder, Jaemin watched her take a few steps away.
Then he inhaled deeply.
“Hey—wait.”
He caught up to her, gently taking her hand. She turned, surprised, as he stepped in front of her.
“Uh… call me random, but…” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Do you maybe want to get dinner sometime? When you’re free. Anytime. No rush. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, but I think I’d go crazy if I didn’t ask.”
Haeyi’s gaze dropped to their joined hands, her thumb brushing unconsciously against his.
“…Sure,” she said softly. Then hesitated. “But—I do have a child. Are you okay with that?”
Jaemin didn’t even pause.
He smiled and leaned in, pressing another light kiss to the top of her head.
“Absolutely,” he said. “Haon makes everything a hundred times better.”
Her eyes shimmered.
No one had ever said it like that before.
“Well,” she laughed quietly, looking up at him, “uh… sure then.”
Jaemin beamed, still holding her hand as if letting go hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“I’ll walk you back,” he said simply.
Hand in hand, fingers intertwined, they walked off together—unhurried, smiling, and a little stunned by how right it felt.
—
The day of the date, Haeyi was a mess.
She stood in front of the mirror for the third time, brushing her hair with far too much focus while Haon sat cross-legged on the bed, watching her like this was the most interesting show on earth.
She swallowed, then glanced at him through the mirror.
“Haon,” she said carefully, “let’s say… I’m going on a date with your teacher Jaemin. Would that be okay?”
She continued brushing as if her life depended on it.
Haon tilted his head. “What’s a date?”
She paused. “…Okay.”
She turned slightly. “When two people like each other, they go on a date. Like… have dinner and talk and stuff. You get me?”
Haon stared at her for a second.
Then shook his head. “Nope.”
She sighed.
Before she could try again, her elder sister poked her head into the room, grinning like she’d been waiting for this.
“Teacher Jaemin is trying out to possibly become your daddy,” she said cheerfully.
Haon’s eyes lit up instantly.
“Yess!”
Haeyi whipped around, face flaming. “That was NOT a good interpretation!”
Her sister burst out laughing. “What? I’m just telling the kid what this thing between you and Jaemin could basically mean.”
Haeyi groaned, covering her face.
Meanwhile, Haon leaned closer and whispered into her ear, voice serious and sincere.
“Teacher Jaemin makes Mommy happy,” he said. “So I like it.”
Her heart melted on the spot.
She softened immediately, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek. “You’re too cool for your own good, you know that?”
Fully dressed, slightly nervous but excited, she drove toward the restaurant with a small smile playing on her lips.
Then her phone rang.
The hospital.
Her heart dropped.
By the time she reached the ER, she already knew.
She parked, hands shaking slightly, and called Jaemin.
“Hey…” she said softly when he picked up.
“Hey,” he replied, cheerful. “You there yet? I’m on my way.”
Her eyes stung.
“The hospital called,” she whispered. “I… I’m really sorry. I—”
She trailed off, unable to finish.
On the other end, Jaemin chuckled gently.
“Hey,” he said warmly. “Don’t go feeling sad on me.”
She sniffed.
“It’s alright. Duty calls. Don’t think too much about it, okay? It’s not like we’re never going to meet again or something. We can always reschedule.”
She closed her eyes, relief and guilt tangling in her chest.
“Haeyi,” he added softly, “don’t worry. Don’t beat yourself up for it. Yeah?”
Her shoulders finally relaxed.
“…Thank you,” she murmured.
“Go save people,” he said lightly. “I’ll be right here when you’re free.”
Jaemin stood in the middle of the road for a moment after the call ended, phone still pressed to his ear long after the line went dead.
He exhaled slowly.
Disappointed—yeah. He wouldn’t lie to himself about that.
But more than that… he was worried.
The way her voice had wavered.
The way she’d apologized like she was doing something wrong.
He frowned, then suddenly snapped his fingers.
“That’ll do,” he muttered to himself.
Twenty minutes later, he was standing at a takeout counter ordering warm food—nothing fancy, just things that would still taste good even hours later. Soup. Rice. Something filling. Something comforting.
Then he went straight to the hospital.
The waiting area was quiet in that late-night way—fluorescent lights humming, vending machines glowing like they were half-awake. Jaemin sat down with the bag of food beside him, checking the time.
Five minutes or five hours—it didn’t matter.
He just didn’t like the idea of her thinking she’d disappointed him.
Time stretched.
Parents dozed in chairs. Nurses passed by. Midnight crept closer.
And then—
She stepped out.
Jaemin didn’t see her immediately. He was scrolling through his phone when movement caught his eye.
Haeyi.
Her shoulders were slumped, hair slightly messy, eyes tired in a way that went beyond exhaustion. She looked like she’d poured everything out and forgotten to save anything for herself.
Jaemin straightened instantly.
He lifted his hand and waved.
Haeyi froze.
Completely.
Her eyes widened as if her brain refused to process what she was seeing. Slowly, disbelief turned into shock.
“…Jaemin?” she whispered.
He stood up, smiling softly, suddenly very aware of how late it was, how tired she must be.
“Hey,” he said gently. “You looked like you could use dinner.”
For a second, she just stared.
Then her lips trembled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You sounded sad. I didn’t like that.”
Her eyes burned.
“I didn’t know how long you’d be,” he added quickly. “But I figured—even if it was just five minutes—we could spend time together.”
She let out a shaky breath, one hand lifting to cover her mouth.
“…You’re insane,” she said, voice breaking.
Jaemin chuckled softly. “Probably.”
He held up the takeout bag. “Come sit. You haven’t eaten, have you?”
She shook her head slowly.
So he didn’t say anything else.
He just held the door open for her and waited—patient, steady—like he always did.
They ended up in the hospital cafeteria.
Most of the lights were dimmed, only a few tables occupied by night-shift staff speaking in low voices. The place felt suspended in time—quiet, calm, nothing like the chaos outside the ER doors.
They sat across from each other, sharing the takeout, shoulders relaxed for the first time all night.
She laughed softly between bites. “Sorry… this isn’t really romantic.”
Jaemin looked at her like she’d just said something unbelievable.
He shook his head. “Nothing could be more romantic than this, Haeyi.”
She paused, chopsticks mid-air.
“Just think,” he continued, voice warm and sincere. “It’s super late. Super peaceful. I’m spending time with the woman of my dreams… and we’re eating amazing takeout together.”
Her face heated instantly. She ducked her head, laughing under her breath.
“You say things so easily,” she murmured.
Jaemin smiled. “Only when they’re true.”
They ate slowly, talking about nothing urgent—about Haon insisting on matching socks, about Si-ah’s dramatic poses, about how hospital coffee was somehow worse than convenience-store coffee.
Every laugh felt lighter. Every glance lingered just a little longer.
And in that quiet cafeteria, with plastic trays and tired smiles, Haeyi realized this might be the most romantic date she’d ever had.
They left the hospital together, the night air cool and quiet, the city finally slowing down around them.
Halfway down the street, Haeyi suddenly stopped.
“…No.”
Jaemin turned. “No?”
“I left my car,” she said, eyes widening. “I drove here.”
There was a beat.
Then Jaemin burst out laughing.
“Wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “You’re the first person I know who forgot her own car.”
She groaned, covering her face. “Please don’t judge me. I haven’t slept in—”
He reached out and took her hand, still smiling.
“It’s alright,” he said easily. “I’ll walk you home.”
Her shoulders relaxed at that, fingers tightening around his without thinking.
They walked slowly, talking about nothing important—about how night air always made food taste better, about how Haon insisted on saying goodnight twice, about how both of them were terrible at remembering where they parked.
When they reached her place, they stopped just outside the gate.
Jaemin hesitated, then smiled softly.
“I don’t want this night to end,” he admitted. “But you need to recharge.”
Haeyi looked down, shy now. “Thank you… for coming. It was really nice having you with me.”
He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently.
“Likewise, Haeyi.”
They stood there in the quiet, neither moving, neither wanting to be the first to leave.
Her heart thudded.
She took a breath.
Then she stepped forward.
Jaemin’s breath hitched as she leaned closer, hesitant but brave—and when her lips brushed his, he froze for half a second before melting into it completely.
He cupped her cheeks, warm and steady, kissing her back with a softness that felt like care, not rush.
When they finally pulled away, they both laughed—awkward, shy, faces warm and flushed.
“…Okay,” she said, breathless. “That happened.”
Jaemin grinned. “Yeah.”
They stood there smiling at each other like teenagers, hands still linked, night wrapping around them gently.
“Go sleep,” he said fondly.
“I will,” she promised.
Jaemin took a small breath, like he was steadying himself.
Then he smiled—soft, certain—and said it quietly, like it was the most natural truth in the world.
“Haeyi… I love you.”
Time seemed to pause.
She stared at him, eyes wide for a second, then glossy. All the exhaustion, the fear, the doubt she’d carried for years melted into something warm and overwhelming.
“…You do?” she whispered, voice barely there.
He nodded, stepping closer, forehead resting gently against hers.
“I do,” he said. “I love you when you’re tired. I love you when you’re late. I love the way you love Haon. I love the way you keep going even when it’s hard.”
Her lips trembled into a smile as a soft laugh escaped her.
“I think,” she said, blinking back tears, “I’ve loved you for a while too. I was just… scared to say it.”
Jaemin’s eyes softened even more.
He pulled her into a hug—slow, careful, full of intention—and kissed the top of her head.
“We’ll take it at your pace,” he murmured. “All of it.”
She nodded against his chest, arms wrapping around him tightly.
“Okay,” she said, smiling. “But fair warning—my life is messy.”
He chuckled. “Good. I already told you—messes are welcome with me.”
tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)
summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.
notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3
Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’
If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.
How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more.
For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.
You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.
“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes. “It’s another form of self-love. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, try new things and ultimately, live a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”
Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”
Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.
As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”
“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”
You could marry this man.
You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”
And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.
In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.
“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”
“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”
He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.
“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”
You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried.
Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.
Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.
“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel.
The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad.
When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.
“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.
“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”
“Is that the slut machine?”
Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?’
“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”
Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”
“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”
“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”
“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”
“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”
You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.
Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”
“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”
“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”
And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance.
So, this was what Jaemin was on about.
You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,
“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.”
Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad.
Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone.
Ill with lust, as you’d joke.
Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.
“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”
Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.
“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”
From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny.
Bastard.
“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.
“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”
You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.
“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.”
Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.
Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.
“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”
“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”
Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.
fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — SIX.
SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this.
the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is.
PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader.
GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.”
WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn.
WORD COUNT. 7k.
NOTE. ba ba bum it’s here it’s here. if you’re an attentive reader, then you’d get a lot of pay-off in this chapter for the bits and pieces of offhand details i mentioned in the previous ones HAHAHAHHA. i ended this part a scene earlier than initially planned for the sake of momentum (+because i felt a little evil).
also, inserting my announcement that i finally decided to open commissions! HAHA if you’re interested, feel free to peruse through this post and hmu hehe. anyhow, hope you enjoy the chapter and please send me your thoughts! CHAPTER SEVEN.
HAD YOU FORESEEN THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS, you would’ve pulled your coughs and sniffles act to pre-empt a sick day today. But you did not, so on top of a scheduled meeting with Mark after lunch, you’ve got one less excuse to be absent today. You have to meet with Sion’s parents today, too. Not even the gloomy weather can add to any flimsy excuse. You force yourself out of your apartment and into your car, ready to drive down to your workplace of hell.
All you need to do is hold out until after lunchtime. If you lock yourself inside your office until then, there’d be no opening nor risk of you bumping into Na Jaemin. Your stash of snacks and mini fridge of drinks were built for this very situation. Good plan. Yes. Very good plan—
“Shit.”
—if you manage to get inside your office in the first place. You peek from behind the office floor entryway. Your sanctuary is within line of sight. The problem is the mutt waiting right there— on his phone, leaning against your door. What the hell? He usually doesn’t clock in until eight-thirty. It’s seven-fucking-o’clock. Of all days to be punctual, why now?
It’s like he can smell your hatred and despair. Na Jaemin’s head darts up. You hiccup and jump back behind the wall. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to retreat.
“Attorney!” His voice echoes through the near-barren office. You flinch. You squeeze your eyes shut and hiss out a swear as you accept your inevitable fate, stepping out of your hiding spot to make your way towards your demise and get mauled voluntarily.
There’s an annoying, gratifying smile on his face when you reach him. “You’re early,” you sneer out a greeting.
“Of course.” He’s beaming. “I’m here to collect your debt.”
You gulp. You brace yourself for everything. Well, everything his fucked up brain would consider as payment. Maybe he’s being literal and is planning to make you cough up your wallet. Maybe he wants to rip off your arm and a leg. Or worse— force you out to another harrowing quote-unquote date. That would make you vomit on the spot, you think.
The thing is, you think you’ve had Na Jaemin completely read. But he manages to surpass all your predictions and expectations. For better or for worse.
“What do you want me to— oh, whoa, whoa— what the fuck?! Why are you stripping? Why the hell are you stripping?!”
You screech and bring up your hands to cover your eyes but something gets tossed over your head and you can no longer see. The scent of fresh detergent and citrus notes assault your senses and into a dizzying silence. You pat around and pry off the thick chunk of fabric trying to suffocate your face.
“What?”
The bright blue and black jacket he shrugged off is now limply hanging over your arms. You blink. He’s just wearing a plain white tee now. You’re more confused than outraged. “Put it on,” he grins, rolling back his shoulders. “Wear that for the entire day. That’s the only form of payment I can accept, attorney.”
Your face pulls and contorts into the most unflattering it’s ever been. “What the hell are you talking about? Na Jaemin, what the—”
“Ah, fuck.” He shuts you down with a swear, but it’s not directed at you. He pulls open the phone he pocketed earlier and doesn’t look quite happy to see the caller ID before putting the device up to his ear. “Yeah, I’m about to head down, hold up.”
Na Jaemin does not give enough of a damn to pop the dozens of question marks floating and swirling above your head. He just reminds you of your debt and payment, shit-eating grin plastered on his face, right before sauntering out of the office with his hands in his pockets.
*ㅤ
“Is this a new fashion thing? Formal grunge? What?”
Maybe hoping that no one would notice your freakshow of an outfit was too naive to ask for.
“It’s an interesting choice, that’s for sure,” Renjun adds onto Haechan’s initial remark, eyeing you from across the low table of the lobby. Your cheeks burn hotter than the extra spicy tteokbokki you three ordered for lunch. “Hey, slow down, what the hell is wrong with you today?”
Fight fire with fire, they say. But maybe you’ve stuffed your cheeks with too much fire. The rice cakes refuse to go down your inflamed throat and you wave a hand over the table amidst your choking.
“Jeez.” Haechan finally passes you his water bottle. You frantically twist it open and chug the water down. “You switch up your outfit and it’s like your personality got switched too. What’s gotten you so worked up today?”
“Nothing.” You slam down the bottle. It’s a very noticeable difference considering you’re always donned in smart casual every single day. Of course they’d notice the stupid electric blue F1 jacket “Nothing’s different. Everything’s the same.”
God, you’re so close. After your meeting with Mark, you’re going to ask for an early out. You can’t bear this embarrassment any further.
“Sure,” Haechan snorts with tteokkbokki in his mouth and you grimace. “But the jacket’s familiar. Should’ve told me you were into Formula 1, attorney. I see your attitude about my speeding was just a cover up for your secret hobby.” That’d probably be a hypocritical but less embarrassing explanation so you plan to roll with it, but Renjun cuts you off before you can sputter out a lie.
“Idiot,” he snarks at Haechan, dipping his chopsticks into the sauce. His nose crinkles when he fishes out a piece. “That’s not hers. It’s Jaemin’s. It reeks of his cologne.”
Your shoulders flinch and refuse to put your head up.
“Oh my god,” you hear Haechan gasp. “Holy shit. You’re so right.”
First of all, why are they so familiar with how his cologne smells? Second of all— blegh. Is this what it is? Is that bastard trying to scent you like an actual god damned dog? He’s so freaking unbelievable.
You can’t even take it off even when he’s not here. You peer behind the sofa and see some of his Ganghak goons whistling and loitering around the water dispenser in the corner, looking away the moment you snap your head into their direction. You groan and drop your utensils because you need to catch your head in your hands. The damned jacket feels like sixteen pounds of chains constricting and weighing you down. He’s got you cornered and surveilled. You hate to admit it, but this bastard got you good this time— with the scent of freshly washed laundry as an added dose of mockery.
“So, do you two have a thing now?”
“No!” You’re screeching. “Hell no! What the fuck? Are you insane?”
Renjun’s usual calm demeanor shifts into mild surprise. It doesn’t seem like he intended that question to elicit such offense, but it did. You’re deeply offended. Haechan cackles into the last slurp of tteokbokki at your reaction. “Jeez,” he says. “You dislike him that much? But word has it you went on a date with him the other day.”
“Now, which fucker is spreading that defamatory bullshit?!”
One of Na Jaemin’s surveillance cameras flinches at that. Either because of the sheer volume of your voice or from the fact that he’s the guilty culprit, but for whatever reason you managed to catch the reaction from the corner of your eye and you don’t miss the chance to shoot him a glare. As if your reputation isn’t ruined enough already.
“Sure,” Haechan snorts. “Try denying it again when you’re not wearing his jacket. Maybe then you’ll sound a bit more convincing.”
“I don’t know, I think it makes sense. There’s no way you’d stoop that low.” Renjun shrugs, snatching Haechan’s water bottle to give himself a drink. He makes sure to fix his eyes on you when he sets it down. “Honestly, if you end up dating him, I’d actually be really disappointed in you.”
You gasp, clutching your chest. “Renjun.” A sniffle escapes. “I’m so touched. Thank you.”
“Yeah, you should consider looking into other options, like m—”
“Don’t think you’re any better, everyone in Nalkeutta is equally trash.” Haechan gapes in offense and attempts to defend himself, but neither of you are looking at him. “Go find a hot lawyer, or something. You’re too good for anyone in this dump.”
You’re too good for Nalkeutta. You want to thank Renjun for his high regards, but all you could do is scoff and excuse yourself to prepare for your meeting with Mark. If what he says he’s true, then you shouldn’t be here— in your cushy office and dirty salary. But you are. Because just like everyone else here, you actively chose to muddle your morals for money. Even if Doyoung sold you off against your will, Mark wouldn’t have been eyeing to drag you further into this hell if you didn’t dip your toes into the pit in the first place.
Huang Renjun can never be more wrong and that fact leaves a bitter taste on your tongue— a taste that will continue to burn the roof of your mouth for so long as you live serving no one but yourself.
“Come in.”
Mark promptly responds to your knock on his office door. He greets you with a smile when you enter not long after, pushing the knob behind you as you strut to the front of his desk.
When your heels stop clicking and you set down the folder on the surface, you swear the color of Mark’s smile changes. He’s still smiling, sure, but you notice the brief tug of war on the corner of his lips when his eyes flicker up to your eyes— down a bit— before meeting your gaze once more as he slides the folder down as he says, “That’s a new look, attorney.”
You release a half-choke, half-cough. “Please take a look at Kim Jungwoo’s documents.”
Your god awful boss lets you off with no more torment than a laugh before taking you up on your suggestion, and he starts going through the folder you gave him. While he’s busy with that, you take this opportunity of solitude to rip off the damned garment and toss it off to Mark’s empty couch. He raises his eyes for one second but makes no direct comment at your pantomime of freeing yourself from an invisible cobra attack.
“Should I turn up the AC?” he asks while skimming through Jungwoo’s CV.
“No need. It’s perfectly cool and warm.”
This is actually hell. Mark nods with his well maintained pleasantries and he continues vetting your recruit candidate. “He seems promising,” is his overall impression. You release a sigh of relief. “I’m in no position to question his competence since the referral came from you, attorney. And JSS wouldn’t hire a less than promising associate. But to consider the matter of trust, I’d still need to meet Mr. Kim Jungwoo personally.”
You nod. “Of course. I can schedule a meeting for the both of you next week.”
“That’d be great. Preferably on Tuesday, if it works with him.”
“Understood.”
Mark smiles. “Thanks, attorney. You may go now.”
“W—wait!” It hasn’t been twenty minutes since your liberation from Na Jaemin’s jacket prison. You don’t want to say goodbye to this freedom just yet. “Can I stay here for a bit longer? Maybe…maybe until five?”
He feigns disappointment in his sigh and response, but the look in this bastard’s eyes gives away his actual sentiments. “I don’t mind your company until the end of office hours, attorney, but unfortunately I have things to discuss with Ganghak and Daehyeon right after this.” He mocks check his watch for added measure. He’s for sure having fun with this. “They should be on their way back now.”
If that’s the case, then you should fucking book it. “Then, can I leave early? Please.”
No point in hiding your desperation. “Sure,” he hums. You perk up, spinning your heels and ready to march out and leave— but not without a final reminder from your boss. “Don’t forget your jacket.”
On cue, your stagger and your face flushes. God fucking damn it all. You force out a gurgled thank you and reluctantly swipe the thing off from his couch and stomp out of his office.
Problem is, Mark seemed to have made errors in his estimation. The moment you reach for the doorknob, it retreats from your grasps and swings open all by itself. You blink and look up to see Daehyeon’s head, Jeno. “Oh,” is all you manage to say, but he’s still as stone-faced as ever when he registers you for one second— and the next second he nods and steps aside for you to pass through. “Thanks?”
Does he ever talk? He has, but not to you. Well, maybe once, but you’ve no opportunity to think about it any further because you remember the vital fact that Mark isn’t meeting just Daehyeon today.
“Attorney.”
When Lee Jeno steps aside, he reveals the very disappointed face of Na Jaemin.
“I thought we had a deal.”
Erratum. Fake disappointment. He actually looks a mix of thrilled and offended that you failed to follow through your end of the bargain, eyes directed at his jacket’s sleeve scratching against the floor thanks to your careless handling— very obviously not wearing it like he requested. He clicks his tongue. You gulp and bundle it up to your chest.
“It was getting hot,” your mouth stumbles out as an excuse. In fact, you don’t even understand why you’re trying to excuse yourself. This deal was demented and idiotic in the first place, you’ve no obligation to enforce it.
Na Jaemin simply sighs and takes the jacket away from you. “I’m so hurt.”
What? What now? Why’s he acting like this? What does this idiot want from you?
“Jaemin.”
You hear Jeno calling out to him from behind and in that moment, his feigned feelings of hurt and pain immediately retreat to make room for actual annoyance. By no means directed at you— but even when his glare grazes past your face, you can’t help but feel a shudder down your spine as you instinctively look down.
“Yeah, yeah, hold on.”
“We have urgent things to report, there’s no wait—”
“I said hold the fuck on. Didn’t you fucking hear me?”
(“I asked you a fucking question.”
“You think I’d hear a damned bell when I’m knocked the fuck out?”
“Fucking useless.”)
You flinch. There’s a pause. Then you hear the door clicking shut behind you, followed by a sigh from the man before you.
“God dammit.” Na Jaemin unfurls the blue jacket. A soft breeze fans across your face when he lets it fly it over your head to fix the garment over your shoulders. “‘It was getting hot.’ Sure,” he mocks. You peer up just enough to notice lips curling up. His hands come up to the jacket’s collar as he readjusts it down. “Try that excuse again when you aren’t frozen in fear, attorney.”
He leaves you in the hallway with the feeling of your arms brushing against his. You didn’t see his face so you can’t come up with a firm conclusion of what he’s feeling, but there’s one thing for certain.
You’ve only been able to get a leash on Na Jaemin because he likes you— the you at present. And he likes this version of you because you haven’t been a pushover. Because of your smart mouth and temper. Because your anger and annoyance has always managed to triumph over your deep-seated fear for him after your reacquaintance.
But this was a well-needed reminder that Na Jaemin’s volatile feelings aren’t an assurance to your safety. The moment he stops seeing you as a fun chew toy that snarks and talks back, you could very well be tossed back into alarm clock duty again.
You can’t have that. Not after everything you’ve done just to get to where you are now.
*ㅤ
When Sion asks you how the meeting with his parents the other day went, you’re forced to smile and lie to the boy’s face that it went a hundred percent swell.
The caveat isn’t in the case itself. Not at all. They can win and maximize the awards they can get from the damages if they follow through with your instructions. The hitch is in the identity of the landlord— the defendant— and it honestly feels like one sick joke orchestrated especially for you as the butt of it all.
Their identity thieving landlord is named Park Gunho. You thought you were tripping when you heard that, but after a quick background check, you indeed confirmed that it’s the same Park Gunho as the one from Ganghak.
You remember him. How could you not? He’s the guy Na Jaemin beat the shit out of on your first day of school, and is probably the only person who hates him more than you do. That’s primarily because before Na Jaemin reared his head into Ganghak, Gunho used to be the top dog of the school. That kingdom went crumbling down, obviously, but the guy is prideful as fuck and couldn’t stand a junior reigning over him. He was a year ahead of him after all. The thing is, he got held back after missing an entire semester of classes— the result and cause of which was another blow to his ego.
First Na Jaemin, then Natty, now him. Is this some sort of sick and twisted class of ‘17 reunion, or some shit? You turned yourself into a bitch so that people would stop looking down on you, and yet your past keeps coming back to haunt you like an obsessive ex. For god’s sake, you have had enough.
“My dad recorded all phone conversations with him like you instructed, attorney,” Sion proudly informs, arms crossed over your desk. “The guy swears a lot. Even more than Jaemin hyung-nim.”
“Good, keep provoking him,” you snort. “But like I said— no actual threats to sue. Just keep asking him to fix the issue with the credit companies himself, beg that you can’t afford to lose the house, and reiterate that you really don’t want to take this to court. He’ll keep digging his own grave and we’ll have a trove of evidence once we file the case.”
“Understood.”
Sion awes at your foresight for predicting Park Gunho’s reactions to provocation, you swallow a lump and chalk it up to experience.
Thankfully, Mark has no issues with your private practice of profession so long as you keep with the Nalkeutta workload. Which continues to be unceasing, by the way. Cheongang started acting up again and after Daehyeon and Ganghak dealt with the businesses and establishments that had double contracts with Nalkeutta and Cheongang, Haechan reported that they were also the ones who intercepted a transportation job contracted to Yoosun by K Company. This means you’re gonna have to join Haechan’s entourage across the bridge to Mapo this weekend.
“I’ll be very frank, Mark Lee. I’m not too keen on putting a target on my back.”
See, there’s no way in hell Nalkeutta would just take that blatant insult and injury with no retaliation. Doing nothing is surrender— surrendering Nalkeutta’s well established dominance back to Cheongang and admitting defeat. But Mark doesn’t do things half-heartedly. It’s not enough to break a couple of bones. They need to cough up for the financial damages as well.
“Yoosun can be there as protection, but I refuse to be publicly affiliated with the gang in front of the enemy. Also, a legal threat like this could only work if I’m representing an actual legitimate business like K Company. You have Daybreak as a front, but there’s no way in hell Cheongang would fall for it. So I’d appreciate it if you can get some representatives from K.”
The company continues to be as busy as ever. The only saving grace is the fact that Na Jaemin hasn’t gotten into any extra-curricular trouble since. But it’s also a source of unease because you’ve been failing to sprinkle him with his daily dose of attention— and despite this he hasn’t made any active attempts to fish it out of you.
Did that one, accidental slip-up of reminiscent fear turn him off completely? Wow. He’s shallower than you thought.
“Attorney!”
After Sion’s visit to your office, Haechan takes his place.
“I heard you’re bringing in another lawyer.”
He plops down onto your mustard sofa in a practiced manner. You don’t need to look up from your laptop to know that he’s making himself at home like he always does. “Yeah, which means I have to deal with you a little less from then on. Thank god for that.”
“Boo. You’re ditching our Mapo trip? We could go on a Hongdae date and go over speeding limits on the freeway.”
“Unfortunately, I still have to tag along.” There’s no way a Cheongang case is going to a new hire. No direct orders from Mark, but you’re not stupid. Even if you’re less than ecstatic to deal with Haechan for an entire weekend. The only plus is the premium pay.
The weekend rolls over and as Nalkeutta’s sole legal representation— and the sole woman in a room filled with gangsters and built, tattooed men— you’re nervous as all hell. Thank god you’ve developed a thick skin thanks to your brutal law school profs who feed off of humiliation and having to deal with literal criminals thanks to Kim Doyoung’s near nonexistent tutelage.
You suck in a deep breath. The clicks of your heels will be feared beyond Nalkeutta and Yeongdeungpo. You’ve managed to get Na Jaemin to sit and play nice. Cheongag will be a piece of cake.
And it was. Albeit a stale and dry cake that’s been left out in the summer for too long. You were able to hold up your resting bitch face in front of Cheongang’s boss, Lee Sangyeon. He’s physically bigger than Mark. Way bigger, but somehow he isn’t as vaguely threatening as Mark, so you were able to puncture through their big boss with a hefty settlement if they didn’t want their whole gang operation uprooted. It was a half-bluff. There’s no way you’d actually be filing a case against them as an entity because doing so would be putting Nalkeutta at risk as well, but you can still get away with suing for unlawful business interference. And Cheongag wouldn’t risk opening an investigation.
So, your return to Yeongdeungpo from your cloudy weekend at Mapo with a very pleased Mark from your performance, along with the news that the interview between him and Jungwoo couldn’t have gone any more stellar.
“We get along pretty well. Signed the contract right then and there,” Jungwoo tells you over coffee the day you come back to the district. “Oh, and do you mind picking me up from the firm tomorrow? I might need a getaway car.”
That request raised a few questions at first, but when your co-worker explains that he’ll be submitting his two weeks’ notice, you nod and tell him you’ll be there by five sharp.
You spend the time being imagining how pissed Doyoung would be upon receiving that. The bastard always favored Jungwoo over you. There’s a theory in your head that it’s because he finds you uncomfortable to be around since you used to have a crush on him way back in law school and thinks you followed him to JSS like an obsessive stalker. But those juvenile feelings have long died the moment you started working with that stuck-up bitch and your rose-tinted glasses got sucker punched off of your face.
Or he could be just a misogynist. Regardless, it doesn’t matter and you don’t give a shit. He tossed you into the den without a hint of remorse. You’d kill to see his reaction to his dear associate walking out on him in cold blood.
In fact, you do. For the first time in months, you park your car in the JSS parking lot and wait for Jungwoo to come down with a bright smiling face and waving at you with a manila folder in hand.
He hops right next to you as you un-lean from your car. “Done?”
“Done.” He grins with a thumbs up. “Oh, can you wait a sec? I need to make a call.”
You wave him off and he walks a couple steps away for some privacy. As you’re about to enter the vehicle, you squint at the building’s back exit, noticing the entry of another person into the parking lot. Your vision registers it as your former boss— your former boss, glasses crooked, hair disheveled, and stomping out into the open with a piece of crumpled paper in hand.
His head darts around like he’s looking for something. You’re likely not what he’s looking for, but he somehow finds you in between the cars. You meet eyes. His distraught eyes suddenly narrow with his brows furrowed. Oh boy. He fixes his glasses and starts marching towards you.
“Jungwoo,” you call out, blindly unlocking your car door. “Jungwoo, we gotta go.”
“Hold on, I’m still— oh, shit!”
The door rattles open. You stumble into the driver’s seat and fumble to turn the engine on while Jungwoo shoves himself into the seat next to you. “Go, go, go!” he tells you. You screech out of your parking spot. Before you make a run for it, you make sure to slide open the window to bid Kim Doyoung farewell with your tongue sticking out and an outstretched middle finger.
It seems like working in Naekutta has made you rather juvenile. The last image you see before leaving JSS premises is the look on Kim Doyoung’s face that will forever be framed inside your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline carrying over as you drive into the main road, or if the soul of Lee Haechan momentarily possessing you, but you got a little carried away as you speed into the sunset and fail to notice another car as you make a sharp turn— resulting in a fender bender.
Instead of driving Jungwoo home, you both end up at a repair shop and a hefty bill to fix the damages on your frame which would take two weeks alone for the parts to get delivered, as well as for the other vehicle’s bumper. Well, that’s one way to bring you down from your high.
Jungwoo sends himself off by saying he’s looking forward to seeing you at the Nalkeutta office in two weeks. You figure out how the hell you’re supposed to go to and from work until then.
Beep beep!
“Hop in, attorney. How ‘bout we ditch work today and do something fun?”
“I need the receipts on my desk by noon, Haechan, else I will actually kill you.”
Somehow, you managed to convince Haechan to be your personal driver for the time being. It wasn’t that hard of a task. You just said please and he seemed pretty enthusiastic about getting taken advantage of. Of course, you don’t give him the actual reason why your car is under repair. He won’t let you hear the end of it.
“You two have been coming in together often.”
The observation comes from Mark, who’s very rarely out of his office and is lounging in the second floor lobby, greeting you both just as you enter the general office area.
What’s important to note is that he’s not the only one here. The other three executives are also gathered here. Na Jaemin included.
Just as Haechan has told you last time, the entire gang knows about his stupid crush on you. The entire gang knows as well that it’s been a long time since you threatened to off him while he smugly grins at you as if your death threats are forms of endearments. Right now, he’s manspreading on the couch while scrolling through his phone while Renjun greets you with a bland good morning.
You shoot Mark a look. He just smiles. “I just wanted to inform everyone that a new member of our legal team will be coming in today. After introductions, I’d like to request you to show him around, attorney.”
“Sure,” you answer, right before immediately retreating into your office.
This is exhausting. You sigh further into your swivel chair, eyeing the calendar on your desk that’s filled with scribbles and notes and appointments. With a second huff, you reach for the spiraled stand, slam it face down, and sink into your crossed arms over the table with a groan.
How much longer do you have to tiptoe around the anxiety of relapsing into your former relationship with Na Jaemin? Your current position forces you to look at the paper bag shoved underneath your desk for the past two weeks, a sliver of black and blue peeking out from the top, and you grimace as you kick yourself into the bookshelf behind your office chair.
You’ve got better things to worry about. Like your upcoming hearing for the Park Gunho case. You spend the next two hours reviewing your documents for the case before Mark eventually calls you out to the conference room for Jungwoo’s arrival.
“I look forward to working with all of you!”
Just like with you, Jungwoo gets introduced to each of the executives one by one, and you feel a swell of energy seeing your former-turned-current co-worker ease into the conversations so easily— though, you do worry seeing him and Haechan immediately clicking. Regardless, this is it. This is the day you’ve been waiting for. No more overtime. Hopefully. Please. Jungwoo can handle the bullshit from the police station from now on. You can now finish your night routines with no sudden interruptions.
“And this is Na Jaemin, the head of our Ganghak division.” Mark continues with the formalities. “But I heard you two had already been introduced to each other a while back.”
You’d been standing straightly and stiffly this entire time, but at that moment you flinch.
“That’s right,” Jungwoo answers, sending a smile to your scowling co-worker, whose only form of acknowledgement is a grunt.
The comment doesn’t go over the rest of the guys’ heads. Haechan perks up with interest. “Huh,” he muses, eyeing you with a raised brow. “Curios as to how’d that happen, but anyhow— welcome aboard, attorney number two!” He’s not the only one looking at you. Jeno spared a glance, but only for a moment. Renjun’s scrutinizing stare is somehow making you feel guilty for some damn reason. Mark is ever smiling and you want to sock him in the face.
The only one who doesn’t have your attention is Jaemin.
You turn away and clear your throat. “Anyhow, I’ll be showing Attorney Kim around. Lee Haechan, the receipts.
“Haha, whoops.”
You then look at your boss, who sends you off with a nod. Kim Jungwoo follows you out of that stifling room, and you finally feel like you can release a breath without being scrutinized. He registers the fact that you’re not very happy with him at the moment, but you can’t exactly explain without sounding like a psychopath, so you brush the emotions off with a huff and start touring him around the building— eventually ending the tour at his own space and cubicle right outside your office.
“I honestly can’t believe you took the offer,” you say, watching as he spins around his seat and tinkers with the desktop computer. “I’m starting to feel kind of bad for dragging you into this shady business with me.”
“Hey, I walked in with my own two feet,” he counters. “And it can’t be worse than JSS. Both companies are essentially profiting over the misfortune of others. Might as well choose the one that pays more, right?”
Jungwoo offers you a high five with a smile. You return it and think, god— you’re both materialistic, horrible people and tell him to spend the day getting adjusted before dipping back into the comfort and privacy of your office.
“Got it, boss,” he grins.
You grimace. “Hardly. Come knocking in when you get bored.”
With Jungwoo around, things around the office got all the more easier. You actually have the time to focus more on the Oh’s proceedings and thoroughly prepare for the hearing. Apparently, Park Gunho was livid when you pushed through with suing— subsequently leading to him pushing through with the eviction, which was the most favorable outcome you’d predicted. You already sifted through your contacts and hooked them up with a temporary housing solution until they get their bank from the court awards. And this unjust eviction is just another offense up Park Gunho’s ass, giving you the opportunity to file a supplementary complaint before the pre-trial conference.
On the day of the conference, you half-expected Park Gunho to notice you. But maybe the man was too livid at you clients to even register your face, or maybe all high school bullies and wannabe gangsters just don’t care to remember the ants they all reigned over at their peak, so that was that.
Unfortunately for him, you do remember him and his hotheaded and stubborn tendencies. You came in expecting no chance for a settlement and indeed, you all left the room with nothing but a grudge on your back and a court date. Not that you wanted to settle and vet him off easily in the first place, but when he spat out the words, “I’ll see you in court,” right then and there, you can’t help but feel a little victorious because he played exactly how you thought he’d play, ultimately allowing you to keep up the charade of earnestness in front of the judge as well.
Mr and Mrs Oh are understandably nervous, but you assure them that they have nothing to worry about when you’re the one handling their case. Your win rate is still at a hundred percent. It’s been a while since you’ve handled something like this. And quite frankly, you miss it.
“Attorney!”
Just like how the pre-trial proceedings went, the final hearing concluded exactly as you had expected.
“We won!”
It’s a classic case of how pride will always goeth before the fall. Park Gunho committed a handful of crimes and all you did was bring those crimes to justice. His confidence stemmed from the belief that the Oh’s wouldn’t have the guts to sue because of the eviction. His confidence stemmed from the idea that if they do sue, all he could do is wave a bunch of money in front of their faces and run away scot free with a settlement.
But you foresaw all that. And all you had to do was take advantage of that overconfidence to attain the outcome that you wanted. Now he has to cough up a total of 50 million won in fines, fees, and damages on top of a five year sentence.
If only everything else came this easily.
“Wait ‘til I file an appeal, you fuckers!”
Park Gunho is already being escorted out of the district court by bailiff for his over-agressiveness, yet he’s still stupid enough to run his mouth. You see Mrs Oh flinch from the threat, but you assure the family not to worry and that they should go on ahead to celebrate.
“I doubt that will carry a different result, but by all means.”
That might have triggered him more, but what can you say? You’re egocentric yourself. Ruining an arrogant man’s life would understandably put you on a power trip. You maintain a polite smile as he shoves off the bailiffs hold, hissing that he can walk fine all by himself while stumbling from how pissed off he is. You can’t help but snort a little— and that small response was the trigger to an unprecedented reaction.
The noise you let out prompts Park Gunho’s attention once more. He makes an attempt to mouth off at you again, but something holds his tongue into a moment of silence.
He closes his mouth. He furrows his brows.
“Wait.”
Pride goeth before the fall.
“Hold on. I know you.”
The consequences of your thoughtless actions come to bite you in the ass once more.
“Hah,” he scoffs, recognition dawning on him more and more by the second. This isn’t good. The last thing you expected was for him to recognize you considering the other one didn’t. Then again, he and Na Jaemin are different breeds of trash. This one barks more than he bites because a new dog came into the picture. He doesn’t have the freedom to run wild and spread his rabid slobber anymore. “Ain’t this pretty fucking funny? Na Jaemin’s little bitch somehow ended up becoming a lawyer. What a big fucking surprise.”
But he’s out of the doghouse now. And this one holds grudges against the ones he wasn’t able to maul.
“Whose dick did you suck to get here, attorney?”
It’s a good thing that the bailiffs managed to drag him off right then and there. Otherwise, you would’ve been caught in public clocking a handcuffed man right in the nose.
“Attorney.”
You’re surprised to see Sion still here. He’s walked back up the flight with his parents following behind, etched with confused yet expectant expressions.
“What’s taking you so long?” he asks. “We should go have a celebratory dinner.”
Oh. “It’s alright,” you tell them. “I still need to get back to the office. Please enjoy your dinner without me.”
Sion makes another attempt to convince you to join, but his mom cuts him off by saying that it’s a shame that you’re busy, and that they can’t thank you enough and they’ll be sure to repay you next time. You bid them off with a smile that leaves as quickly as it comes— like one of the clouds simply passing through the grey sky.
It’s like the weather is hellbent on making you feel even worse.
You don’t return to the office. You actually took a leave for the entire day, but the last thing you want is to intrude on their family moment, so you wind up at the nearest convenience store with a plastic full of beer on the parasolled table outside, dead set on drinking until the grey sky turns fully dark because even though you won today’s trial, it feels like you lost a lot more than you gained.
“Fuck, this is all Kim Doyoung’s fault. No, it’s Mark Lee’s— no. It’s fucking Na Jaemin’s.”
The merit of your ramblings is questionable, but you’re miserable and inebriated enough to point the blame at anyone but yourself. It’s not your fault that you picked the wrong desk. It’s not your fault your high school was filled with psychos. It’s not your fault you wanted to change. It’s not your fault that your principles were the price or that change. Only for you to end up questioning if all that was even worth it.
It’s eight in the evening when you check your watch again. To make things worse, what the sky had been foreshadowing for the past few weeks finally shows up.
It starts to rain. At least you couldn’t be blamed for this misfortune.
Shhhhhhhhhhh!
You stare at the torrent of raindrops making numerous, tiny splashes against the ground. Numerous, tiny splashes of water, yet altogether they’re enough to dampen the hems of your slacks. You don’t have an umbrella. You don’t have a car. Your apartment is way too far. It’s taking way too damn long for Uber to book a god damned ride. Maybe you are in fact reaping your own consequences. All those fake sick days have come to seek you out for revenge like this.
It’s not like your contacts list is of any use either. Natty makes the most sense, but you don’t think you can trust yourself not to snap at her for no reason right now. Neither Renjun nor Jungwoo have a car. Haechan and a slippery road is not a safe combination. There’s no way you’re calling either your old boss or your previous boss. So you end up staring at a contact that’s been left untouched since it was entered on your phone mandatorily, added on your first day at Nalkeutta.
Is this a good idea? Probably not. But it’s the best one you have right now— the best your alcohol-clouded judgment can come up with.
You convince yourself that this could also be an opportunity to test where you still stand. You press your thumb into the contact labeled Nalkeutta - Na Jaemin, send him nothing but your location, drop your heavy head back against the table, and a hollow thunk resounds against in between the hissing rainfall the moment your forehead hits the wet surface.
The convenience store parasol isn’t providing much cover. You’re not sure how long it’s been, but the back of your blazer has already become damp when something comes along to block the raindrops away. You lift yourself up to find out what it is when the top of your head bumps into something— someone, and even though you’re the one who called him over, you’re taken aback to be met by the shadowed contours of Na Jaemin’s face.
Your head stays in the position for a couple of seconds too long, thrown back with a little too much strain on your neck that goes unacknowledged over the realization that this is the first time that you’re actually looking at his face— not stealing a glance to gauge his present mood, not peering at him from the corner of your eye to make sure that you can get away in one piece with pushing his buttons today— but looking at him in his entirety.
“Ah.” Thunder bellows. Then a flicker of blinding light, confirming that what you’re seeing isn’t just an inebriated illusion. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
His brows are furrowed. There’s a mix of annoyance and concern in his eyes as he looks down at you. Wow. It’s colored in a deep and dark brown.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
Na Jaemin yanks you back onto your feet, and you try your best to blink away your unfocused vision.
“Are you stupid? Do you want to catch a fever, or some shit?”
You stumble into him as tries to balance you with one hand, the other busy trying to open an umbrella that’s barely big enough to cover the both of you. What you think is a car comes into view as you’re dragged onto the sidewalk, but he tosses you into the front seat before you could even take a good look at it, subsequently dropping a jacket over you before he closes the door shut and secure.
Another one. But this one is less attention-seeking and suffocating. The soft, grey fabric settles over you like a blanket. You turn your head when he settles into the driver’s seat, outwardly annoyed, but your eyes follow when he reaches for the air conditioning to turn it down. “I thought you won a trial today,” he starts, engine humming as he drives into the road. “But you spend the night drinking alone like you just got your heart broken. Nice celebration.”
You blink at him. Na Jaemin’s side-profile is illuminated by each streetlight that he passes by, like a moon going through each of its phases every quarter of a second. “Well, I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with.”
“Is that why you hit me up?” he scoffs. There’s a trail of bitterness in his tone. You perk up in your seat. “You needed a drinking buddy? Why didn’t you call Haechan then?”
“That’s not it,” you counter. “I just wanted to check if you still have feelings for me.”
Screeeech!
The back of your skull bounces against the headrest cushion. You would’ve crashed straight into the dashboard if he hadn’t stretched his arm out in time
“You’re treading a dangerous line, attorney.”
The first thing you notice are his white knuckles, gripping onto the window frame bevel like he’s acting as a harness. The next thing that catches your attention is the look in his eyes when he leans over with a warning.
“Seatbelt. You’re gonna get yourself killed before I can drive you home.”
A dangerous line.
“I don’t have any drinks left in my fridge.”
You’re pretty sure you’ve already crossed that the moment you started working with him in Nalkeutta.
