SYNOPSIS: Moving back home after unforeseen circumstances is hard enough as a 23 year old. But when you run into your childhood friend who you cut off all contact with now playing shows with his band that have apparently gained quite the reputation, you're forced to reevaluate the life that you left behind. And all of the doors you left wide open.
WORD COUNT: 28k (oops)
WARNINGS: humor, fluff, angst (kinda a lot of it), smut (MDNI), dry humping, thigh fucking, fingering, nipple play, light sub/dom play, vaginal sex (unprotected but pls wrap it when you tap it), characters might be a bit frustrating at some points, y/n deals with a lot of self hatred
NOTES: this is one of my proudest works while simultaneously being the longest! | was hoping to release earlier but I was severely sick two days ago while finishing it up, I hope you don't mind the delay!
explore the 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 here!
spotify playlist that helped inspire me while writing can be found here
Part One: Late November
All I Think About Now
☆ 💫 ☆
“I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life,” He breathed out, his gaze sincere and intimate. It were as if you two were the only beings left in the world, he’d always had the ability to create such an environment for just the two of you. You reached forward—
“Long time no see, Y/N.” You heard the familiar voice from behind you, pulling you from your very heavy mind. You’d felt uneasy since the second the plane landed, your memories flooding back to you with zero remorse.
You turned to face her, the luggage in your hands weighing them down enough that you only gave a polite bow. You’d hoped that you came off nice enough and not like you were awkwardly avoiding any physical contact after not having spoken to your friend for so long. Even if thats exactly why you hadn’t met her eyes for longer than three seconds at a time.
She sucked her teeth playfully, “Is that any way to greet your friend?”
You couldn’t help but smile, her tone all so familiar and comforting. “Hi Giselle—“
”Aeri,” she cut you off pulling you in for a tight hug. “My closest friends call me Aeri.”
You let out a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to hug her back even after you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t cause anymore trouble than you already had before booking the first flight out. “Aeri, i’m sorry to call you so abruptly.”
She shakes her head that you’d only now noticed was pink as she pulled away from the hug, “Don’t say sorry you idiot. I’m glad you called even though I was like ninety percent sure it was a prank call when you asked for a ride from Seoul Airport.”
Your cheeks reddened, to be fair you weren’t exactly the type to pull off spontaneous trips. It was just as uncharacteristic to her as it was to you, though you weren’t really the type to prank call either.
”This way,” she slid one of the carriers out of your grip, dragging it as she made her way through the terminal.
The drive was silent apart from the sound of the air flowing out of the air conditioning and the occasional sorry Aeri offered when she turned a little too close to the edge, driving over the curb. You hadn’t anticipated the easiest reunion after the years that had gone by, but as the seconds went by you only felt more awkwardly trapped within the Toyota.
You’d been overthinking over what to say for the past ten minutes your mouth agape with hesitation until you finally built up the courage. “You dyed your hair.”
Aeri giggled, flicking the blinker as she made yet another sharp turn. “Yeah like two years ago.”
Your heart sank, thats right you had seen it on her instagram story last Halloween right before closing the app at the sight of—no that didnt matter. It shouldn’t at least.
“I’m sorry,” you stuttered, only making her giggle more.
”You’re so awkward now,” she spoke through the laughs.”What did they do to you in France.”
You pouted, the place you’d been at more than twenty four hours ago had been alright to say the least besides the rude pedestrians and pitpockets. “What do you mean you’re the one who’s been acting so normal! Pretending like nothing’s changed when I haven’t seen you for five years.” You crossed your arms, burning holes through the side of her face.
She hummed playfully, “And who’s fault is that?” The words stung which was certainly not her intention yet caused you to fall silent. She wasn’t wrong, if anyone were to blame it was definitely you.
“Hey,” She called out, her voice regretful. “I’m just kidding you know, seriously there’s no reason to be so awkward.” She spared you a quick glance with an apologetic smile, “You’re overthinking it, i’m not mad you made it out of this shit town. Hell, I would’ve done the same.
“So why didn’t you?” You ask, curious. Aeri had always wanted to travel, it’d been her dream since diapers.
She shakes her head, “You talk like we don’t have the rest of the world ahead of us.”
You bit your tongue, maybe for her it was that way, for you the future had different plans. You nod, the rest of the conversation falling into another silence. “I’m acting normal because everything is normal. Don’t think of this as time lost think of it as time catching up.”
Before you can get a word out she continues,”And I wasn’t like trying to make things awkward. Just thought silence fit the whole angsty quarter life crisis vibe you’re going through right now,” She jokes.
”I’m not the one who turned twenty five this year.” You deadpan causing her to gasp.
“Oh wow you’re not that far off I hope you know that.” She replies, the two of you laughing together. You both had a way of poking at each other, of course knowing when to stop, but in most cases it wasn’t ever necessary. It was the way the two of you showed love.
“I’m guessing i’m the only one you’ve told?”
Aeri was always very attentive so you were sure she’d have figured it out before the week ended, you’d only wished she could’ve at least realized after you’d had showered and changed into clothes that weren’t full of sweat.
“Yeah.” You felt your heart racing in fear of her mentioning his name.
“Wow I still have best friend privileges then?” She jokes, helping ease your stress a little more.
“You never lost them.”
“Right, well that must mean something then.” She smiles, before adding. “It’s the same for me, even now you’re still my best friend. I tell everyone, even told my friend Renjun before heading this way.”
You smiled, she had answered the phone quicker than you expected and before the phone call ended had already stated she was on the way. You were grateful even if in that back of your mind you had already known that she wouldn’t have just left you alone. It was even stupid for you to think that things had changed in the first place, Aeri wasn’t going to drive an hour away into Seoul for just anyone on a Friday.
“Renjun is?” You ask, curious about what she had been up to before she had picked you up.
“Oh he’s a cool guy I met doing some volunteer work for the Children’s Art program. He was a bit annoyed about me leaving right as we were getting ready for tonight but he shut up when I told him it’s cause I was coming to get you.”
“He knows me?” The thought scares you. Other people you’ve never met perceiving you was not really something any introvert would want.
“Yeah well me and Ning talk about you a lot.”
Ningning. You’d more recently seen her in person about a year ago. Her family had some business to take care of in France so you had the chance to have brunch with her before she was on her way out of the country.
“I hope I get to meet him.”
Her eyes light up, the next turn sharp enough to make your body slide over from one side of the seat to the next. “You can tonight! We were going to go over to some bar later on and getting drinks.”
“Aeri I have nothing to wear.”
“You can borrow some of my clothes!”
You groan in frustration, she was still the stubborn type. “I’m not really in the mood to socialize right now.” That wasn’t exactly the full truth but you’d rather get ran over than admit the real reason.
“I think it’ll do you good.” The rose haired girl replies, eyeing you through her peripherals. “I’m like one hundred percent sure that your grandma has zero idea that you’re even here right?”
Your silence tells her enough to know that she’s correct in that assumption. “It’ll be fun! You can wipe that kicked puppy look off of your face and get to socializing! Ning will be there too! It’ll be like you never left.”
You sigh. It wasn’t that you were avoiding contact with anyone from your past it’s just that you were avoiding seeing him.
Truth be told you really didn’t even know what made you come back here in the first place. Things were even more messy than they were in France right now, and that was a lot to say considering that you hadn’t replied to a single missed call from your mother.
You’d get around to it eventually. For now you just needed an escape. If your grandma knew she would tell you to not argue with your mom and go back home. But you didn’t want whatever kind of home that was supposed to be you wanted–
“Fine.” You spoke before you could even finish your thought. “I’ll go.”
Aeri squealed in excitement, pulling her phone out as soon as the two of you reached a red light to call and let everyone know that she had a very important person she was bringing over.
You hoped tonight could be a night of silence. You’d been thinking way too much about everything the past few days, it was important that you cleared your mind before your thoughts fried it. You weren’t sure how much time you had left before you had to come to terms with reality. France was where you were supposed to be no matter how differently you wish it were.
You were here for clarity, not for your own personal gain despite the urge to reach out because what you wanted wasn’t going to happen. Not after things ended so horribly.
You at least owed him that.
☆ 🎸 ☆
“You okay man? You’ve been playing that same chord progression for the past thirty minutes.”
“Leave him alone he’s just pissy because his last hookup tried the groupie route.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Naeun seemed like a pretty sweet girl but she had a score she was hoping to reach and Jisung wasn’t interested in fucking a girl who planned on hopping on his bandmates afterwards.
“I told you man,” He feels the weight of his friend's arm on his shoulder, sighing in annoyance at the familiar action. “You should be more like Jeno, tell them you’re only hitting it once and then you’re done.”
“That’s not at all what I say.”
Jisung could hear the scattered laughs from around him, breaking the cocoon of peace he’d been in while strumming to his own tune on the bass.
Most of the band’s rehearsals began this way. He’d be in his own funk until the rest of them snapped him out of it, usually by poking at him until he finally gave them attention, and then they’d all practice. Only now, instead of ten minutes of being in his own world he’d somewhere along the way picked up the habit of playing for over twenty minutes, now thirty, all by himself.
It wasn’t that it affected the group’s intense practice schedules, actually he’d argue that Donghyuck’s habit of bringing his latest hookup for an exclusive behind the scenes tour was much more disruptive. It was, however, becoming increasingly irritating to himself. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen.
Jisung was no psychic but he at least had some kind of intuition. It came with having a Scorpio Moon, or whatever Jaemin had told him when he was hanging out with the tarot card girl.
“Are you good?” Mark asked, his words full of concern yet low enough that only Jisung could hear him as the others continued to mess around paying them two no more attention.
Mark had pretty easily taken on the leader role when this whole band came about, being the eldest of the group and also the voice of reason. The lead guitarist was known for his friendly demeanor and knowing just about everyone, which made it easier for him to book gigs all over the place.
That’s also how the two met, Jisung having covered for the older’s friend’s band, Frequency, when their bassist caught food poisoning three days before they had to do a grand show two cities over.
If it weren’t for meeting Mark then it would’ve been safe to bet that Jisung would’ve given up on his dream of playing in a band. He was eternally grateful even now, which is why he’d grown more frustrated at himself. It was unfair to space out all the time, but it was even more unfair that he couldn’t get his own head straight all the time. He had to get his head straight, he couldn’t run Oblivion into the ground.
His breath was shaky. “I’m fine.” He answered, much less tranquil than he’d hoped for but it got the point across. Mark gave a tight smile, choosing to accept the pretense, before clapping loud enough to disrupt the other’s shenanigans.
The guys turned their attention to Mark, who had made his way over to where his guitar stood. “Come on guys, it’s time we take things a little more seriously.”
“It’s nothing we haven’t played before,” Donghyuck started, his confidence high and sprung as always. “We have practiced these songs more times than i’ve seen my mother.”
“Doesn’t mean we’ve mastered anything,” Mark replies swiftly. “This is the most packed schedule we have these next couple of months. We have a couple of venues sold out, that festival downtown in a few weeks, not to mention the fact that we’ve been needing new music since forever.”
“Songwriting isn’t exactly my forte,” Jeno retorted, taking a seat and adjusting the cymbals on his drums.
“Doesn’t matter, practicing beats sitting around and doing nothing.”
“Doesn’t Jeno do that anyway?” Jaemin teases, picking up his guitar and sliding the strap over his shoulder.
The drummer responds with his signature smile and his middle finger raised.
“Let’s make things easy for Markie,” Donghyuck grabbed his mic from off of the stand. “Start with Déjà Vu?”
Jisung starts with the bass line, the familiar weight of the tune soothing his head as the others join in. It was easy to get lost in their music, rock was always his safe space.
The music built up, Donghyuck’s vocals filling the space around them. They’d rehearsed the song so many times it came to them all like muscle memory at this point, the five of them having some of the best musical chemistry ever.
The bridge was coming up when Jisung’s mind blanked. His fingers faltered over the strings, not enough to make the others stop playing but enough to garner questioning glances. He came in once again right before the ending chorus, all of them playing as if he hadn’t just ruined the entire practice performance.
He tried to stay focused on the music but as the song neared its end it only broke the illusion Jisung had put himself under. There was really no way he could keep up with the rest of the guys if he kept on letting his mind wander.
“Jisung buddy, you okay man?” This time Jaemin was the one to ask. Great that meant his internal struggles were already becoming more obvious.
“Yeah, sorry, guess you’re right about a few things.”
“I told you Ji,” Donghyuck says far too loudly as he speaks directly into the mic. “If you need something I know plenty of women ready to be at your beckoning call.”
“Once again,” Jisung sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I’m not interested.” Donghyuck shrugs.
“It’s not a problem this is just a practice anyway,” Mark says as leaderish as ever, “Let’s take it from the top.”
Jisung knew Mark was probably a bit more stressed than he let on, this whole gimmick had been happening way more often to call it a stroke of misfortune. He wouldn’t ever let the man see that though, he already knew just how hard Jisung was on himself. Could you really blame him, though? Now was not the time for mistakes, the band themselves were booked and busy for the next few weeks. If he kept tuning out and fucking up simple songs that he could play in his sleep, he’d be responsible for the reputation of the band.
He bit his bottom lip, closing his eyes to clear his mind before starting up the same bass line as before. He’d have to hurry up and fix whatever limbo he was stuck in. And hurry up fast.
☆ 💫 ☆
Dinner went about as great as you’d expected. Lots of awkward moments up until the drinks started pouring in, and only then after almost zero persuasion you took the drinks and joined the rest of them in the fun drinking games you hadn’t played since you were all sneaking sips of your mothers expensive wine. It wasn’t alcoholic in the slightest, but that hadn’t stopped your young minds from acting drunk anyway.
It had been almost a week since then. And you were no monster so you had already come clean about your whereabouts to your grandma who, after lots of convincing, agreed to not tell anything to your mother under the condition that you would visit her in the time you chose to stay here before leaving again.
You weren’t exactly sure when that would be, after all you still had too much on your mind and according to Aeri, lots of catching up to do. That included, checking out the newly remodeled venue thirty minutes away and having drinks with everyone.
Unfortunately for you, no introvert was safe from your friends' shenanigans. So tonight you were expected to show up, no excuses. Not even the ‘you don’t have my foundation shade’ that used to get you out of going most places when you were all younger. Turns out having a friend who worked as a beauty consultant took some getting used to.
You took in the scene around you, low lights that were full of color. There was a subtle fog that filled the room you were sure was there to add to the aesthetic appeal.
You’d been sipping on drinks for what felt like hours just waiting for the main performance to begin. Some band was running late for the past thirty minutes.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a performance?” You click your tongue in annoyance, speech slightly slurred.
“I think they might just move on to the rest of them, probably gonna end up being a hefty fine.” Renjun replies, gulping down the last of his mocktail.
“How many bands are we here to see?”
Ningning giggles, just as tipsy as you. “As many as we can! Who doesn’t love live music?”
You groan, “Well i’ll be right back then,” You scoot off of your seat, pulling down your dress fabric that had risen just a bit too high for comfort as you were seated. “Anyone else want another drink?” Your friends politely decline, choosing to stay behind and keep your section open for when you come back.
The bodies around made it a bit more difficult to find your way around, but anytime you were tipsy you’d gain enough confidence to convince yourself you could run a marathon in ten minutes, so there was no way you were backing out. You chose to try a different route, heading closer towards the stages in the back since there were less people and crowds weren’t exactly your scene.
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here right now.” A low voice sounded from behind you, startling you into turning around.
“Do I know you?” You take in the appearance of the man in front of you. He was handsome but that didn’t really mean anything considering that he was a stranger, and you were alone.
He chuckled, his smile only growing larger. “Guess not.”
You nodded awkwardly, turning away from the guy and praying he wasn’t some creep.
“If you’re here for the show then I’m pretty sure the stage is that way.” He calls out, pointing from where you just came from.
“Not where i’m headed but thank you.”
“Hey look I promise i’m no creep,” He says and though the words are meant to be comforting your drunken mind can’t help but take it as a threat. “You should really be careful out here though, if security finds you they’ll kick you out without even hearing you out first.”
You’re not really sure what to say so you nod. This guy was kind of annoying, it was obvious enough you didn’t want his help. You looked at him again, your brow raised this time actually taking in his appearance. He had blond hair, his eyes were big enough you could probably spot him from a mile away, and his smile seemed genuine yet all the more unsettling.
“You like what you see?” He jokes, his smile growing wider.
You pretend to gag, causing the ladder to laugh. “Okay okay fine i’ll leave you alone.” He looked down at his watch like he’d lost track of time. “Oh by the way, the bar is that way!”
He pointed in the direction you had already planned on going in before running off into one of the many rooms that confused your tipsy head.
When you’d appeared once again with your friends this time with a drink in hand Aeri was the first to speak up.
“Where have you been? I told these guys you have zero sense of direction who gave them the bright idea to go by yourself.”
“His name is Jack Daniels.” Ningning blurts out.
“I’m serious, you missed out on a lot, Renjun’s friend Chenle is some dude who owns this place. He invited us for more drinks later when the show ends.”
Renjun nods happily, “He also offered us rides home so I can actually drink now.”
You smile, “Don’t worry, I met some weirdo but he kind of helped me find the bar so he wasn’t so bad after all.”
Aeri’s eyes widened with worry, “He didn’t try anything did he? I’ll find whoever the creep is and kill him.”
“I’m fine, really.” Before she can argue the crowd erupts in cheers, five silhouettes filling the stage. It was hard for you to even make out their faces with all of the fog and distance between you and the main stage.
The first few chords strummed, the low notes of the bass powerful enough to cloud your mind before the rest of the ensemble joined. Whatever song it was was captivating. The entire crowd swayed to the heavy sound, your friends following suit.
The next few songs went by almost too quickly, and it was safe to say that whoever these guys were on stage were something special. The crowd cheered loudly after every performance up until the final song.
The lead singer stopped for a moment introducing the last song by title. Once more to see you.
The final song began, a slow bass line that felt so familiar. You took in a sharp breath, the vocals were different than they were before. This time a low voice took the mic. You felt as if your heart stopped beating, your friends were distracted staring up at the stage not having noticed your pale complexion.
You couldn’t breathe. What ever made you think you could come back down and avoid him? The lead singer had taken the mic again but it was much too late. You knew exactly who it was on that stage. You’d spent your childhood with him. You helped him find his voice. You were there when he first began composing his own music.
You were there, until you weren’t.
☆ 🎸 ☆
Jisung took one long breath, soaking in the applause from the audience before looking up as the final chorus ended. His heart sank for a split second, staring out in the distance he swore he saw–
“Come on,” Jeno called out, his figure covering his view. He moved over, looking into the crowd again to see nothing. He must really be out of his mind these days. He followed the rest of the group off of the stage, the cheers fading into the distance.
“That was fucking amazing!” Donghyuck shouted excitedly, “Did you see the way the girl in the front row kept looking at me? I threw her a wink and she got all shy.”
Jeno rolled his eyes, “Yeah I'm so sure that happened even through the thick ass fog.”
“What was the deal with that?” Mark added, taking a sip of a water bottle that Jisung was almost sure appeared out of thin air if it weren’t for the mini fridge in the break room they’d noticed earlier. “Swear I could barely see where my own guitar was.”
“I for one could see perfectly,” Jaemin sighed, “The girl with the black dress.”
The rest of the guys collectively groaned in annoyance, it was so like Jaemin to pick out a random girl from the crowd to offer his entire soul to for the night. The hopeless romantic surely had a weird way of envisioning his future.
Jisung scrunched his face, deciding to take a water bottle from the fridge as a means of cooling off. He wasn’t exactly interested in the other guys sex lives, so he found himself wondering back to what he thought he saw. There was zero way that it was you. Like it had to be scientifically impossible, you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with him anymore so why would you be back in town?
He had to be losing it or something because seriously what the fuck. First he was spacing out now he was suddenly seeing shit? Seeing you of all people too?
“Jisung!” Jeno shouted, no anger in it whatsoever but it was enough to make Jisung jump anyway, “Dude what’s up with you lately?”
He had no answer to that.
When he didn’t reply Jeno started up again, “Look I don’t really understand what the heck is going on and clearly you’re just as lost as I am, but how about you join us after this?”
Ah of course there was always the post performance clubbing his band mates would go to for drinks and more specifically, the warmth of another in their bed. Honestly he should say no. He always did anyway, but he figured that if for even more than a second he was left alone with his own thoughts he’d certainly lose his mind for real.
“Okay.” Jisung agreed, not completely confident in his decision but the other guys seemed happier than he was at the answer.
“Finally!” Donghyuck buds into their conversation, poking his head in between the two as he hangs off of Jisung’s shoulder. “I met this girl a few shows back and her friend couldn’t stop asking about you! I promise you, you will get some tonight.”
Mark laughs, “Yeah i’m sure that’s exactly what Ji was worried about, going home without some groupie.”
Donghyuck shrugs, “You never know, Jaemin could die if he doesn’t get his dick touched after every show.”
Jaemin smirks, “Good thing I don’t ever have to worry about that.”
Jisung knew he had made a grave mistake the second they had entered the building. For one, most of the bodies filling the room stank of cheap cologne and alcohol. And the second he even made his way in every single one of the guys disappeared into the abyss.
This was seriously not his scene. He let out what felt like the hundredth sigh of the night, making his way over to the bar. He ordered rum and coke, hoping that was good enough to get a little bit of alcohol in his system so he wouldn’t feel like dying until the rest of the guys gathered up to get back home.
As time went on he’d grown bored, the drink was seriously not helping him get his mind off of anything. Some woman tried flirting with him about half an hour ago who was obviously not in the right mind when she confessed to forgetting her name. Her friend popped up right behind her apologizing and leaving with her.
He contemplated another drink as he scrolled his phone once more, a few texts popping in from the Oblivion group chat.
Donghyuck:
Im out
Don’t bother me
I’ll be back in the morning
Of course the dude had left on his own. If Jisung knew that was the case he would’ve left a long time ago. He set down the empty glass in his hand, going straight through the crowd to find the exit door. His phone began to ring, he was sure it was Jeno or Jaemin calling to hook him up with a random person he’d never met. It was annoying how often they’d pull that, even when he was already settled in his bed at home.
He locked his screen, ignoring the call as he spotted what looked like a door out. The crowd was really getting to him, even if his height was an advantage between all of the people, he didn’t particularly like the feeling of someone standing so close to him. He was a bassist for crying out loud, that didn’t mean he had to be a people person. That was all Hyuck’s job, anyway, as the lead singer.
As he finally reached the door he felt like a weight lifted off of his shoulder, reaching out to open the door when from the other side someone pushed it forward. He muttered a quick apology before looking up.
Right in front of him you stood, in a black dress that didn’t do enough to hide your figure from everyone else’s eyes. Paired with a huge fluffy puffer jacket he never would’ve imagined you’d buy for yourself. Though his imagination proved to be very inconsistent since he would’ve never imagined you’d be back here of all places.
It hit him then. The anxious feelings he’d been experiencing for the past weeks, the girl who could’ve bet his entire life on being in the crowd. So he wasn’t going crazy, not yet at least.
☆ 💫 ☆
You should’ve trusted your gut. That’s the only thing that you could think as you met face to face with him. He looked even better up close than he did on the stage. Only where he looked comfortable and free playing before, it was nowhere to be seen now. Now he stared back at you. For just a second as you opened the door you thought you could see a hint of relief. It was all gone now. Now you looked into the eyes of the man you knew so well before. Now you looked into the eyes of your best friend who eyed you back with…
Well, honestly, you couldn’t even pinpoint how he felt, all you knew was that it was definitely not a happy feeling.
“Jisungie?” Ningning called out from behind you, completely oblivious to the dense atmosphere that surrounded the two of you.
His expression changed in a quick moment, a smile masking his features as his attention shifted to greet hers. You weren’t sure why it hurt so bad to see the two of them interact that way, but it did.
“Hey,” His voice was as deep as you remembered, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you moved to the side, offering up space so the two of them could talk more easily.
“I haven’t seen you in like forever!” She rested a hand on his shoulder, “You look great but out of place, I don’t remember you being much of a clubbing guy?”
“Jeno dragged me out tonight but it seems he made himself pretty busy.”
Ningning laughs, “Seems just like him.”
You felt like an outsider, not knowing any of the people the two of them were referring to. You shrank into silence, hoping the two of them would end up distracted enough that you could make a run for it. Surely there had to be at least one late night flight back to France, or Portugal, or Spain, or really any European country that could hide you for the rest of your life.
“You could join us where we’re sitting? We’re in a vip booth, supposed to be meeting some of the bands from earlier.”
Your eyes widened, there was no way she really asked him that. It wasn’t completely known to the rest of your friend group what really happened between you and Jisung but it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out either.
“Ah,” He looks down awkwardly. You held back a smile, he was never really one for direct eye contact, not with anyone but you. What were you talking about, that was in the past. “I actually played earlier, I'm the bassist for Oblivion, the last ones that played.”
Ningning’s mouth was in the shape of an O, “Really! I would’ve noticed but it was pretty foggy where we stood!” She knocked on her head, scolding herself for not paying enough attention to who was actually on stage. “You should come by anyway! I’m sure the others might be just as surprised seeing you now.”
Things couldn’t get more awkward. It was fine though, Jisung was obviously pretty occupied before you bumped into him, so clearly, he wouldn’t want to stay here longer when he’s busy.
“Sure.”
It was not fine.
“Great!” Ningning smiled, “Y/N can show you where the rest of the group is i’m going to order us a round of drinks!”
It was definitely not fine.
Jisung nodded, prompting Ningning to leave the both of you alone. You barely let out a small “This way,” before even more uncomfortable silence filled the air around you two.
You knew your friend certainly didn’t mean to make things weird, she just happened to be a very talkative drunk. You could forgive her in the morning when she would apologize to you profusely just as she always did after a night of drinking and bad decisions.
What plagued your mind now wasn’t that, it was why Jisung would even agree in the first place? He didn’t seem to want to talk to you at all. Or had you been imagining things? You did have a habit of making things out to be what they weren’t. Perhaps he was actually happy to see you? Perhaps he was interested in catching up with the others? Maybe he wasn’t mad at you for leaving him hanging the last couple of years and dropping off the face of the earth.
Jisung was always a sweetheart growing up, he could hardly hold any resentment towards anyone. Some things never changed.
Time changes everything.
You’d told yourself that right before you clicked to confirm your flight, mostly so that when you came back and realized that change was inevitable and happening no matter what, it wouldn’t cause you to panic but instead give you better insight on what to do with your life.
Now, as you sit quietly at the table, Aeri to your left pouring yet another glass for the man seated in front of you. You realized that there was no comfort in change, not when you ruined what left you had to live in your life.
Jisung hardly looked at you, avoiding every fiber of your existence as he laughed along with the rest of the group. You had tried to make a comment somewhere in between the night that he ignored flat out. It should’ve pissed you off more, you were a prideful human being, but you’d figured that was better than him looking at you in disgust, the way he did earlier when you first introduced him to everyone at the table.
He was always one to have his emotions written on his face afterall.
You took another shot of soju, your friends so deep in conversation they overlooked your presence, talking loudly about some things you’d missed out on when you moved away. You were a few shots deep enough to know that you had about one more shot left in you before you completely passed out here on this table, which honestly seemed like the worst fate possible, again because of your pride.
You tapped your finger, absentmindedly, your overthinking soon to be reduced by the thoughts of ‘could I jump over a twenty foot van’.
You weren’t sure how long it’d been of you doing that until you heard the sound of a glass sliding towards you. Looking up, you see the same dark head of hair that had been hard to not notice all night.
“Drink.” Jisung says, his tone flat and uninterested, like he didn’t actually care if you did what he said at all.
You eyed the glass with what you assumed was filled with water since it was clear. “Water?”
He sighs, as if replying to you physically hurt him. “What else would it be?”
You shrug, holding the glass with both hands and taking a few large gulps of the cool liquid. It was definitely water, and for some reason it was really hitting the spot. You set the glass down, wiping your lips from where at some point it spilled. If you were sober enough you would’ve seen the way he looked at you, the shaky breath he let out when you wiped your mouth.
“It could’ve been tequila.”
His patient demeanor is back, “Do you really think i’d offer you more alcohol in this state?”
You shrug again, this time not really knowing what to say. You felt shy all of a sudden. Those were the only words he’d directed at you and you only the entire night. A selfish part of you knew that if you let the conversation die now he, rightfully so, would probably never talk to you again and go about his own life. You felt like that was the worst possible outcome, so you opted for another.
“Where’d everyone go?” You ask innocently. Truth be told you hadn’t even noticed the empty chairs around until now. Damn did you really drink that much?
As if he read your mind he replies, “Did you really overdo it? They left for the dance floor a few minutes ago. They invited you but you claimed your feet would fall off if you stood up for more than a minute.”
Well props to your drunk self, you at least knew your own limits. Jisung scrolls his phone, the silence somehow louder than the music playing throughout the place. When did things become this way? You knew why, but that didn’t make it hurt less. He could hardly even look at you, but when he did he looked at you like it hurt him to. He looked at you like you were the bane of his existence. Of course, after a certain point you were also an emotional drunk. You’d learned of it back in France when you had too many rounds of champagne at your mother’s Orca release and rescue charity gala event and bursted out crying as the slide show segment took place.
It was embarrassing then, the last thing you needed was a repeat of that time. You swallowed down more water, hoping it would ease the cry in your throat from fully forming.
Jisung’s phone began to ring. He looked at the caller ID and rolled his eyes. You thought maybe he wouldn’t answer when he proved you wrong, sliding the answer button and lifting the phone to his ear.
He answered softly, “Hello?”
Ah it must be his girlfriend if he’s answering so kindly. That makes total sense, he was always a subtle charmer. You’d look into his eyes and fall deeper and deeper without realizing it like he was some sort of black hole.
“No it’s okay,” He spoke again, making eye contact with you again and tapping the table for you to finish the last of your water. You groan but obey, sipping down the rest in one last gulp.
“Yeah really hyung i’m fine, just got things to take care of.”
Hyung?
You ponder for a moment before realizing that it wasn’t a girlfriend he’d been on the phone with. Wow what a way of jumping to conclusions. You’d laugh at yourself if doing that wouldn’t result in a psych evaluation.
He seemingly ends the call, typing something into his phone before setting it down.
“What was that about?” He raises an eyebrow in what seemed like he was offended that you’d even ask. He was about to give you an answer when you cut him off. “Fine then I didn’t want to know!”
You had enough of whatever game he was playing. Since he hated you so much he could leave. There wasn’t anything holding him hostage here. You were done being a sad drunk now you were just annoyed.
You pout, refusing to look at him when a low chuckle sounds from his mouth. You turn towards him again, scowling in annoyance. “Stop laughing! You’re being such an asshole.”
“I’m an asshole?” He scoffs playfully, “Why?”
You roll your eyes. He couldn’t be serious. “You’ve been looking at me like i’m stupid all night!”
“We haven’t even been together all night.” You roll your eyes, making him laugh more. “Okay, i’m sorry I was joking.”
You refuse to speak now, staring off at some random painting on the wall like it was an official Van Gogh exclusive.
“Darling,” His voice is low as he calls for you.
Darling.
You hadn’t been called that since before you left. The nickname has always been his for you, an exclusive that nobody but him could ever call you.
“Why do you do this to me?” You question him, your cheeks growing warm as you fiddle with your fingers. “I understand you must want nothing to do with me after...” You trail off, not knowing how exactly to word anything but continuing anyway, “after everything, but if you hate me so badly then you can just leave.”
He’s silent for a moment too long, making you grow more embarrassed at your sudden outburst. Only Park Jisung was able to drag this kind of reaction out of you. You hear him shift in his seat, the music on the dance floor not anywhere near as loud as the way your heart thumps when he approaches you.
He’s right beside you, standing what you can only assume is straight and tall when he clears his throat. You lift your head up on instinct to meet his gaze, only this time the playful glint from before is gone. He’s nothing short of serious when he finally speaks, “Is that it? You thought I wanted nothing to do with you?””
You’re so close in proximity now, closer than you’ve been in years. He looks behind you but for just one moment before his eyes are back on yours again. You suck in a breath as he leans in close, making sure that you’d be able to hear him over the loud chatter around.
“I wish that was the case.”
Your brows furrow. What the hell does that mean? “What–“ You don’t have any time to ask, the tall man had already stormed off.
“What’s up with him?” Aeri asks, taking a seat next to you.
You don’t even know how to reply. If anything his reaction only made everything more confusing. You leaned your head in your hands, groaning in frustration. This was not at all what you had been anticipating when you left, but one thing was for certain, this was only the beginning to your problems.
Part Two: Early December
What difference does it make?
☆ 🎸 ☆
The atmosphere was warm and comforting. He snuggled into your touch, the soft touch of your hand trailing through his hair. He felt himself drift asleep, the tiredness from school and practice enveloping him as the seconds passed. You whispered something, your voice too light to make out. He was too tired to ask though, deciding he could just ask you about it in the morning. His breathing evened out as he allowed himself to rest.
Jisung woke up with a headache that felt like he’d been shot in the head. Twice.
A part of him knew that whatever drink Jeno handed him was probably going to taste like it was mixed with a horse tranquilizer. In his defense, he really did need it.
Ever since he’d last seen you two weeks ago he couldn’t help but think of you. You overwhelmed every thought in his mind, every dream he had, every daydream. It was a bad idea to stay to chat. It was an even worse one to talk to you. Now you plagued his mind constantly.
He barely had time to explain anything to his hyungs, and lucky for him, they didn’t really ask. They did, however, offer ways of help. That’s how he ended up at parties or bars or clubs after every performance they had. And Mark wasn’t joking when he said the next few months were booked and busy. It seemed like every week he found himself waking up after a night out with a killer migraine, but it beat the alternative.
Mark didn’t seem so pleased, but as long as the partying wasn’t interfering with practice or actual performances, he would let them go about how they wanted to spend their free time. So for some time, he’d hang around with the guys until they found some girl to take back to a hotel, then he’d call a cab and pass out the second his head hit his pillow. It was a controversial way of living, sure, but it at least left him with an empty mind.
You hadn’t shown up to any other performances. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it at first, but he figured it was for the best. He made his way into the kitchen, the guys laughter from the living room sounding like they were screaming in his ear. They didn’t pay him any attention until he closed the fridge, Jaemin calling out to him as his Sonya Blade completely annihilated Donghyuck’s Johnny Cage.
“Yo Jisung! Do you wanna play?”
“We still haven’t finished this round, asshole,” Donghyuck replied.
“Yeah but you suck,” Jaemin teases, finishing the round with a signature Fatality.
“You sleep well?” Mark calls out from the other couch, Donghyuck passing him the remote in defeat.
“Uh,” Jisung’s mind drifts for a second, remembering his dream before ignoring the memory. “Sure.”
“You’re pretty quiet,” Mark says plainly, “Anything happen last night?”
“Nothing fun if that’s what you’re implying, dude couldn’t even stand a chance when Jeno passed him that concoction of his.” Donghyuck answers for him, paying no active attention to anything but his phone.
Jeno smiles to himself in the corner, which sounded creepier than it actually was. “That’s not even my go-to, if you want a real drink next time let me know.”
Donghyuck looks up from his phone, offended like Jeno had punched him, “Dude, what kind of monster are you?”
Jaemin laughs maniacally, having beat Mark’s Sub-Zero in record breaking time.
“Dude? How?” Mark asks in genuine shock, looking over the remote like it had betrayed him.
“He’s a hacker I tell you!” Donghyuck shouts, the sound still too amplified for Jisung’s poor ears.
“I made breakfast,” says Jaemin, ignoring the others' theories. “We already ate so you can help yourself. There’s some pills on the counter too.”
It hadn’t been that long since they all decided to live together, it made getting to rehearsal easier. The only issue was having to deal with multiple roommates bringing someone back home, the walls weren’t as thin as they hoped. A good pair of noise cancelling headphones later though, and living here was really great.
Jisung was sure if he’d been living alone he would’ve ended up starving to death, so having Donghyuck and Jaemin as roommates was like a gift from the heavens above. As soon as he bit into the Kimchi Stew he felt cured of all things evil, devouring the rest of the meal like he hadn’t eaten in years.
Once he finished and washed his bowl he passed through the living room much more energized than he was moments prior. Mark sat alone now, stretched limbs over the couch as he watched the Animated Spider-Man Series.
“Where’s everyone?”
Mark shrugged, eyes glued to the tv, “Jeno’s in his room probably, Donghyuck went out, and who knows with Jaemin.”
“No practice today?”
“Nope,” he replies, popping the p. “Free day today.”
It was the first Wednesday they had off in almost a month. Jisung pondered for a moment, debating how to spend today, before realizing he had things to do.
“I’m going out!” He yells out after switching into a casual outfit, slipping on his shoes at the door. “I’ll be back later!”
Mark shouts back a quick, “Okay man take care!” Right as Jisung shuts the door.
Wednesdays were reserved, for the most part, or at least Jisung tried to keep it that way. It was pretty hard though, this new schedule kept him booked and busy with back to back shows and practice.
He gripped the bag of fruit in one hand, politely knocking on the door and waiting. There was scuffling from inside, someone making their way over to the door. He adjusted his shirt, making sure he didn’t look like he had been run over.
The door twisted open, revealing you. A plain black shirt, partially revealing the bra you had on with the way it flowed over your shoulders. You wore baggy jeans, the boyfriend style that made him short circuit at the idea of you wearing any one of his clothes that’d fit on you oversized. He could smell your familiar fragrance of cherries, one that he’d assumed you’d eventually outgrow but had proven to be false.
You spoke first, his words stolen out of his mouth before he could even get a greeting out. “What are you doing here?”
He wasn’t sure you meant to come off so accusatory, but you did, his headache from earlier coming back.
“Jisungie!” Your grandma called from behind you. A smile reached his face in an instant.
“Auntie,” He starts, “I apologize for not coming by sooner.”
“Don’t apologize!” She cuts him off, “Come in, come in.”
He nods, removing his shoes as he steps inside the familiar home. “I brought you some fruits, as an apology.”
“Ah you didn’t have to,” She smiles, accepting the bag.
Jisung keeps it in his arms, “It’s a bit heavy, i’ll carry it.”
She nods in thanks, heading towards her kitchen. The entire interaction leaves you standing there, mouth agape, in confusion. Looking at the bag in his hands and back up at him.
“Grandma!” You call after the elderly lady, following her into the kitchen.
He can hear you as you try and speak quietly, you really were bad at whispering, asking the woman why the hell he was here. She ignores you, dicing up more vegetables and adding them into the pot.
“Jisungie, you can sit over there.”
He sets the bag of fruits down on the table, “Ah i’m okay, I can help if you want.”
The lady laughs, “Your hands are better for playing, sit, sit.”
“Ah, yes.”
You groan in frustration, your grandmother ignoring you as you try to talk to her, telling you to quiet down and take a seat. After a few minutes of lingering around, you finally decide to oblige, taking the seat next to Jisung.
“I asked you a question,” You observe him, looking over him like he was on the FBI’s most wanted list.
Your grandmother passes him a glass cup that he accepts with thanks. He takes a sip, her banana smoothies were always nothing short of exceptional.
“I always swing by,” He replies, barely sparing you a glance. He knew if he allowed himself to look at you again that he’d be putting himself in a worse position.
Your brows furrow, he holds back a smile, you were always so easy to read. “Why?” You ask plainly, this time with zero irritation.
He looks over at the woman, hoping you were able to put two and two together. Your grandma was a kind woman, but she was also lonely. Her only child left years ago to start a life elsewhere, and though she was so proud of her, Jisung constantly heard of your mothers accomplishments anytime he visited, he could tell a part of her missed having her daughter around.
It was different when you lived there, she would watch over the two of you when you were young. Jisung spent most of his time with the two of you since his parents were always away. He started coming over on his own a few weeks after you moved. At first he wanted to make sure that your grandma was doing well, he checked over her house to see if she needed help with anything. She appreciated his visits, cooking for him and telling him to stop by whenever he wanted to.
He stopped by more often after that, at least once a week when he wasn’t busy filling in for random bands around the area. She had been the first to congratulate him when he joined Oblivion. It was nice being around a place that he held so dear to him, even when he knew he should’ve been trying to get over you. A part of him knew that wouldn’t ever happen.
You understood the message clearly, quieting down after that. The atmosphere became dense again, words left unsaid. It was weird, he hadn’t ever expected your conversations to ever be this frail, let alone you ever coming back.
The rest of the day went by quickly, the sun set by the time all three of you finished eating. Your grandma had asked him about different topics, mostly making sure he was well fed and not just running off of junk food like the kids did nowadays.
“Show him out,” Your grandma turned to you.
“Me?” You ask, avoiding your grandma's hand as she began to swat it annoyed. “Why?”
“You ask too many questions,” She replies, making her way back to the kitchen, “Don’t be rude and show him out.”
“Thank you again, auntie!” Jisung calls out.
“Come by again soon!”
You stand quiet for a moment, sighing and sliding on your shoes before walking ahead of him. “You’ve been here more than me, not sure why you'd need help all of a sudden.”
Jisung barely fails to resist a scoff. It’s like you were trying to make him hate you.
The night air is chilly, your arms hiding into themselves to cling for warmth. He held onto the leftovers your grandmother gave him tighter, the atmosphere proving dangerous to so many of his hidden desires.
You led him outside of the gate, your hand hesitating over the lock. “Thank you,” Your voice was soft and genuine, “for visiting my grandma all this time.”
Jisung paused. He wasn’t sure how to reply, not wanting to ruin the moment but also guarding himself from you. He settled with, “I didn’t do it for you.” regretting it only slightly after seeing your reaction. He bit his tongue, hoping you were too lost in your own pout to notice his smile.
“I know that!” You scoff, obviously annoyed.
The tongue biting does himself no favors, his smile so obvious now, even to you who refuses to meet his eye. Your expression is different now, you’re hiding something, he knows you well enough to notice it.
“Just say it.”
“What?” You’re startled, looking up at him just as you did before. You were seriously so cute from this angle. He clears his throat, “You always make that face when you want to say something, so i’m telling you to just say it.”
You pause, like a deer caught in headlights, shaking your head the way you always did when you wanted to get the nerves out.
“What did you mean when you said you wished that was the case?”
He snickered, it was so like you to replay such a simple moment in your mind, a conversation in which he was sure you knew exactly what he meant. He leans in again, hoping you won’t be able to hear his heart palpitating, “Nothing, I was drunk.”
Your brows furrow, “You’re lying,” You call his bluff. He only laughs again. “Tell me, please.”
That please was almost his breaking point, the idea of you begging for him flooding his veins with want. He turns away feeling vulnerable, heat pooling in his stomach that he’s so desperately trying to avoid. “You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.”
He walks away, heading straight for his car with no disruptions. He barely acknowledges the sound of the lock turning, his mind and body racing to leave now before every hint of self respect was lost.
He sat within the driver's seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel with pressure, his head falling forward, a groan escaping his lips. He shouldn’t have come today, he should’ve stayed home and caught up with some very much needed rest.
He needed to forget about you, but it proved to be so much more difficult than just avoiding you. You consumed every fiber of his being, appearing in places he wouldn’t have even imagined, okay maybe your grandma’s house was his fault but you hadn’t been there for the past years so how should he have known.
He felt like he was going insane. Picturing you in the back of his mind after every show, hooking up with a random girl from the bar after his hyungs suggested it just for him to feel like shit after. And finally, when he decided to put all of his efforts into his music, the second he thought maybe he could finally get over you, you came waltzing back into his life.
Even now, as much as he tried to piss you off, he knew. There was no winning, not with you. No, when it came to you, he was at complete mercy to you. The worst part was, you didn’t even know it.
☆ 💫 ☆
You laid in your old bedroom, staring up at the ceiling like it could answer all of life’s biggest mysteries for you. You had texted Giselle saying you’d be staying at your grandma’s for a few days, You weren’t even sure she’d read it with how occupied she was the past few days with some random man she’d met dancing at the bar while you dealt with Jisung trying to sober up.
Speaking of the devil, he was the reason you were even awake this late. You had fixed your sleep schedule the first few days of landing, who knew an awkward dinner with your– Jisung.
He’d left after whatever the hell kind of conversation that was, and he didn’t even say bye! Not that you needed it but it would’ve been nice.
You had been replaying the conversation from earlier in the night in your mind. He didn’t have to be so condescending, since when did he become so.. so stupid!
You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.
The worst part is the way he said it. You locked the door as quickly as you could the second he walked away, your heart racing at his attitude. Your cheeks were flushed, your grandma pointed out as she asked why you were so red before you ran up to your room to avoid her.
You reached for the pillow beside you, pulling it over your face as you hid yourself in shame. You were very close to screeching in it, stopping yourself because then you’d have to admit seeing him did something to you.
You let out a sigh, disconnecting your face from the pillow, trying to ease your mind into thinking about something else. You still hadn’t spoken to your mom, you weren’t sure what the woman was planning since it’s the longest time you’ve gone without contacting her about your every move since you lived with your grandma. For some reason you had an overwhelming sense of danger, like there was a ticking time bomb that was close to exploding any second now.
Great, what an amazing way to get your mind off of the raven haired man. Who would’ve thought thinking about how terrible the things were that you had left behind could snap some sense into you. What happened earlier meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. There was too much in jeopardy if you were to admit anything you felt about Jisung, and honestly you were already in deep enough trouble.
As you stepped back into Aeri’s apartment, using her spare key to lock the door you jumped at the sight of a shirtless man in front of you.
“I’m sorry!” The handsome stranger apologized, calling out to your roommate who walked into the room like this was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Hey.” Aeri walked forward, snatching the bag of leftovers from your hands, peeking into it and observing the food like a vulture.
“Grandma couldn’t help but pack up every last bit of leftovers, said we wouldn’t eat anything otherwise.”
Giselle smiled mischievously, “Send her my regards,” your friend makes her way towards the kitchen, not before eyeing her boy toy who was still standing there, chest out. “Put some clothes on, freak.”
You and Aeri sat down on her table, her fling, that you’d learned was named Eric, long gone as he had some kind of business to take care of. She was scarfing down all of the food you brought back while you sat in front of her with a full stomach from breakfast, a drink in hand.
“What’s wrong with you,” She asked, mid bite of kimchi fried rice. “You look like you barely slept.”
“Nothing,” You regretted answering back so quickly, maybe if you hadn’t then you could’ve hid everything for a bit longer. But your friend could slice you open and dissect you easily.
She set down her spoon, raising an eyebrow. “What happened?”
Let’s see, there were actually way too many things that happened. For starters, your best friend made an appearance at your grandma's house where it turns out he’s been visiting since the day you left town. There was also the fact that for some odd reason you felt like your chest was going to burst after the first full conversation that you shared with him in a long time.
There were other things, like France and everything you were so scared to talk about because then it would be put into reality and you’d have to actually face your problems face on. The calls from your mother that were becoming more and more persistent these days and it only put into perspective how much time was running out and would eventually catch up to you.
Sometime during your short existential crisis, Aeri’s expression changed from that of suspicion to worry. “You don’t have to talk about it!”
You nodded forcefully, your brain on overdrive, taking a drink from your glass and hoping that the water would be enough to cool your brain back into its normal setting.
Aeri contemplates for a second and you could practically see the lightbulb light up above her head as an idea sparks through her mind. “I have an idea!”
“I couldn’t notice.” You reply dryly.
“Come with me, tonight.”
That’s right, that Eric guy had mentioned some DJ gig he had at some club across town tonight, inviting the two of you to attend with free drink vouchers he had attained as per agreement with the club owner.
You weren’t so sure going out would help sort your thoughts out, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that a few free drinks sounded very convincing at this moment. You wanted to let loose enough that you could barely count your problems on one hand, and what better way to do that than a night of alcohol? What’s the worst that could happen?
Aeri’s never ending connections never really seemed to phase you these days. The two of you had made it into the club faster than you’d ever made it into anywhere in your life. The air outside was way too cold for you to be in the outfit you had on but Aeri refused to let you go out without either a skirt or dress three inches above your knee. So here you stood in line to pick up a glass of really anything strong, three shots of soju deep that wasn’t hitting hard enough for your liking.
Your friend had been escorted on stage about an hour ago, joining Eric’s side as he played music that was actually not so bad considering he was a man. Your body swayed to the rhythm of the music as you awaited your mystery drink from the cute bartender who had complimented your boots, after which she introduced herself as Heejin.
“Thank you!” You shouted over the loud music as she slid over the mystery glass, earning a warm smile from her before she moved onto the next drink.
You crossed through the crowd with your drink pressed tightly beside you as you tried to navigate through the group of people surrounding the bar to make it back to the front of the dance floor that had become more chaotic than before as the night went on.
The music was loud enough to fill your entire body, the heavy bass sounding through your every cell. You tried squeezing through a couple that were a little over crossing the line of dancing and full on intercourse, catching your balance as you tripped a bit over someone’s foot.
You breathed out a sigh, regretting your choice of drink when the shots had clearly traveled their journey from your stomach into your veins, the buzz taking its effect on you. Aeri waved from above, Eric’s hands around her waist as he back hugged her. You had a feeling your friend might keep this guy a bit longer than she usually did.
You took sips of your drink, trying to get through whatever insane mixture it was, plugging your nose as you chugged it down. Better to drink the rest of it before the buzz wore off and you ended up with a shitty drink in your hand.
More songs passed, time moving on what felt like another dimensional plane. You were just as buzzed as you wanted to be, aware enough to take care of yourself and drunk enough to not overthink it. You danced and danced, until your drink was completely finished, opting to get water just so you wouldn’t die of dehydration.
Before you could reach the bar a random dancer bumped into you a little harshly, almost knocking you over if it weren’t for the hand at your waist catching you. You sucked in a breath, the familiar scent of citrus with an underlying woody aroma masking the slightest hint of smoke, there was no way.
His voice was low with warning when he spoke from behind you, “Watch where you’re going.” He directed towards the man who had knocked into you. Your skin buzzed, his touch warm and comforting even if you convinced yourself the last thing you wanted was to see him again.
The man uttered an apology, leaving you to turn and face the man you had been drinking to forget all night.
“Should I refer to you as my personal stalker now?”
He chuckled though it sounded fake, “A babysitter sounds more like it when i’m the one always having to watch over you.”
You scoff, “I didn’t need you just now.”
“Yeah i’m sure you would’ve much rather fell straight on your ass.”
His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every fiber of your appearance. You resisted a blush, being seen in such a spectacle by him was out of the ordinary, his usual calm demeanor faltering at the result of your mini skirt. There’s a new sense of warmth pooling in your stomach, one you can’t blame on the alcohol, you brush it off.
“What do you want Jisung? Are you here to kill the mood?”
“I’m here because I spotted a lost kitten that needed rescuing.”
The nickname should gross you out more than it really does. You frown, this time really taking in the appearance of the man. On the surface he looked just about as irritating as usual, sporting a grey graphic tee you could successfully guess was a band from the eighties worn atop a pair of distressed jeans. You looked up at him, his face and neck the slightest shade of rose.
“You’re drunk.” It’s not a question, more so a state of disbelief.
“Buzzed now,” He doesn’t even deny it, “sobered up outside about an hour ago.”
He must’ve still been drunk enough to be so willing to share that, regardless you laugh, as if you caught him committing a crime. “Wow, I can’t believe I get to see Park Jisung drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“No?” You raise a brow, stepping closer to him. You were glad to have caught him like this, it was so much easier to read him when he was buzzed. You took notice of every detail he could give you, the way his breath hitched just as you moved forward, the way his eyes trailed over your face falling onto your lips, and the way his brows crinkled with worry as if he was holding onto every last ounce of his sanity.
“Don’t,” He whispered, more so to himself than you. You were having a bit of fun now, the game of cat and mouse the two of you played since the moment you spotted him on stage now giving you the upper hand. You debated playing with him a little more, ultimately deciding to take a different approach.
“Fine.” You smirked, pulling away from him, his disapproval evident in the way his face fell flat as you widened the distance.
You turned away, not really sure where exactly you were going but knowing he was following close behind anyway.
“Where are you going?”
You snigger, “I thought you didn’t want me here.”
He was so easy right now, excuse you if you wanted to keep the upper hand for a while longer. There were less people here than where the two of you stood moments prior, the lights from the dance floor dimmed from this section of the club.
“You’re being childish.” He called out, making you turn on your heel.
“Why?” You're back in his face, this time all fire. “Because i’m doing just as you wanted?”
He smiles, this time approvingly. A sense of uneasiness fills you, second guessing just how much of this interaction was really you having the upper hand.
“Is that what you’re doing?” He asks, his voice a low whisper barely audible over the music if you weren’t so hyperaware of everything he says or does, he gets even closer. “Or are you just being fussy cause I didn’t want to kiss you?”
It was the first time any of you had come so close to acknowledging the tension the two of you built up. Your heart skipped a beat, what you could only assume was the alcohol telling you to lean into him closer.
“Is that the truth?” You finally build the courage to speak, taking note of Jisung’s gaze fixated on your lips. “Cause If I could make one guess right now, I’d say you’re lying.”
“I’m not.” He replies, though he doesn’t sound like he’s even convinced himself.
“Then prove it.”
The last thing you wanted was for him to leave you hanging, but call it an inkling or a gift of the prophecy, a part of you knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away. Not with the way his hand had somehow found its way around your waist again, pulling you even closer than you’d been moments prior.
You were always the impatient type, so it was you who ultimately gave in, leaning into him to finally close the distance that felt like it was holding on by a thread. He reacted slowly, his breath hitching as your mouth met his, the kiss experimental yet powerful. Before either of you could deepen it you pulled away, a part of you waiting for a reaction you were honestly quite terrified of. You were beginning to turn away when you felt him move, his grip on your wrist firm but not uncomfortable as he spinned you to meet his eyes once more.
You barely had a chance to apologize when he kissed you. This time without the worry of the two of you finding out just how much each other wanted this, this time with both your hearts on the line. You kissed each other roughly, all of the pent up anger from before taking its course in the way you tasted each other.
It felt like a zap of electricity through you. The way his palm cupped your face as the kiss became heavier, every second building the very fire you had been fighting against.
You’d never expected any of this, and though you knew in the back of your mind that every part of this was wrong and that you couldn’t stay here forever, you pushed it back into the corner.
The both of you tore away from each other for a moment to breathe, the look in your eyes suggesting that the last thing you wanted was to be apart.
“Bathroom?” You suggested the first place you could think of that wasn’t far enough to give you both time to second guess anything.
He laughed, your heart churned at the idea that he might’ve changed his mind, but that same panic ceased when he spoke.
“I know one place better.”
☆ 🎸 ☆
You had barely given Jisung anytime to shut the door and twist the lock before capturing his lips into yours again. He thought back through the night, the glimpse he’d gotten of you passing through the bar that he convinced himself was a ghost of his imaginations now standing in front of him, tasting of alcohol and something sweet as you kissed him with no worries in the world.
He had brought you to one of the private rooms this club had that he only found out through the guys’ excessive use of them. Every club this big had made for VIP guests and of course musicians, though they weren’t that famous enough to have access to that begged the question of how Jeno had secured access to this place. A thought that slipped his mind the second your tongue swiped against his bottom lip for permission to deepen the kiss.
He accepted, your mouths clashing in what was all desperate in a drunk frenzy. You let out a low moan, one that only made his pants grow tighter.
You pulled back, all confidence from earlier gone, your eyes hazed and cheeks flushed as you finally took a moment to soak up the surrounding area. He held back a smile, you looked like you were trying your hardest to stay on this plane of existence, trying to calm your heavy breathing.
“What’s this place?”
“Exclusive VIP room.” He regretted the words the second they left his mouth. Your face slipped for just a split moment. He thought maybe saying that would give you ideas, ones he didn’t want you to have of him. He opened his mouth to speak again but you cut him off, a shimmer of mischief in your eyes as you noticed the couch sitting against the wall of the room.
“Well since you know this place so well,” You tugged his arm towards the couch, giving him space to take a seat before climbing on top of him. “Why don’t you let me take the lead?”
Jisung knew his ears were hot to the touch, hoping it at least came off as the alcohol even though his body told enough to point out that you were the reason alone for his current state of disarray. His hands found their way around your hips as you connected lips again, this one building up to be heavier than the ones before.
The needy sounds you made before pulling away just to kiss around his throat, you wanted to mark him as your own, not knowing just how much he had already been yours. He let out a groan when your hips rocked against him incidentally, or maybe not when you smiled so proudly before grinding down again, this time with much more intention.
His voice came out breathy, “You’re drunk.” He repeated your words from earlier to you. His grip on your hips tighter, trying to keep you from pressing down against his growing erection.
“So are you.”
There was another meaning to the excuse, the both of you knowing internally how much was on the line. The last thing Jisung wanted to do was to let you go, it had been a century since he last felt your touch and he couldn’t imagine going through it all over again, but the last thing he wanted was for you to change your mind in the morning.
“I don’t want you to regret this,” He spoke probably the most honest that he’d been with you in a long time.
Your palm cups his face, staring into his soul when you reply. “I’ve never regretted any moment i’ve ever shared with you.”
You kiss him again, this one short yet burning with the shared promise that he accepts. His breath is knocked out as you both find the same quick rhythm as before. It’s all breathing and taking in each other with every suck of skin now, bruises forming on your delicate neck that he couldn’t resist but to taint just as you did to him.
You shift above him giving enough space for him to slip your petty excuse of a skirt up, your panties soaking with your arousal. He pulls you directly on his fully hard bulge in his pants, a loud moan pulled from your lips as you feel the stimulation to your clit even through the fabric.
“Fuck–“ You curse loudly, his strong hands forcing you to move harder against him. “Sung please.”
Jisung wasn’t sure just how much harder he could get, the plea in your voice going straight to his dick. He loved just how needy you could get, even though you refused to admit it every time he pushed you to that point. You were full of pride, that’s why it was so fun to play with you, to see that facade break and to get you to admit every truth you had hidden, one by one.
He wanted to test your limits now, and what better way to do that than talk to you just as you really wanted. “Come on darling,” he reused the old nickname that always worked on you, “I thought you were the one taking the lead?”
You groaned out in part annoyance and pleasure, “F- fuck you.”
“Maybe next time,” He smirked, capturing your lips again, sucking up your moans while helping you chase your high. Your thighs felt like fire, grinding faster and rougher against him, his groans matching yours as the both of you felt your climax approaching.
Jisung’s mind slipped into imagining another scenario in which you were riding his thigh all by yourself. He couldn’t help but think about how lucky he’d feel being used by you to get yourself off almost coming in his pants just thinking about it.
“Ji please i’m so close,” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts and instead to take in the you who was right in front of him. Your panties proved you right, wetter than before and soaking up all of the juices that fought to come out of you.
He knew he wasn’t that far from finishing either, the last time he jerked off being a month ago so the dry spell wasn’t helping him last longer anyway. “Me too darling, come with me.”
The nickname triggered your orgasm, your juices spilling out of you as you clenched around nothing, wishing you could have come with him inside you and not just from the pressure on your clit. Nonetheless your body felt like you had just reached nirvana.
“I’m sorry my darling girl,” Jisung whispered a quick apology when he heard your whine, the last few movements overstimulating you but enough to get him off untouched. He bit his lip, holding in his sounds as he came in his pants, feeling all kinds of relief with a mixture of embarrassment now since the last time he came in his pants was back in high school.
“Fuck,” he sounded breathless, looking down to see the wet mark you left on his jeans, his cock firming slightly at the sight.
The room was silent, except for the muffled music from outside where the club was still in full swing. Your body was warm, slumped against him in an almost domestic way. His hand found its way to your hair, scratching your head and earning a small purr of comfort from your lips.
He’s not sure how long the two of you sat like that, time had lost all meaning when he was surrounded by you. Your voice trembled out almost regretfully, “We shouldn’t do this again.”
He knew it was coming just as it did before, the memories of the shared night between the two of you right before you completely disappeared springing into his mind again.
“I wouldn’t ever hurt you.” He whispered to you, oblivious to how your fear never stemmed from him hurting you. You stopped yourself from crying, knowing everything that he didn’t.
You kissed him over and over again, as many times as you could hoping it would convey your deepest affections to him.
His heart beamed, every single moment of happiness in his life could never result to the way he felt now. And when you pulled back this time, you met his eyes so full of love that you were so scared of admitting yourself. He always wore his feelings for you so open and honest.
“I want you,” You spoke slowly at first, hoping that he’d understand what you meant without having to finish the sentence. He sat there innocently, brows furrowed. You let out a shaky breath, “I want you to be my first.”
The night that almost felt like a dream now, one that he could never forget. One that he was aware of that ended with you never speaking to him again and not coming back for five years.
With that he sighed, “You’re right.”
And though the two of you seemingly didn’t want whatever any of this was, none of you took the initiative to leave. Clinging onto the silence like it was the only way you could keep time frozen, and keep hold of one another.
Part Three: Mid December
Stained Glass Eyes and Colorful Tears
☆ 💫 ☆
You really did mean it when you said you shouldn’t do this again, it’s not your fault that somehow for the past few weeks the two of you ended up meeting up more than once.
His hands made towards your shirt, removing the garment with a swift motion as he pinned you against the door. You caught his lips, biting down enough to make him wince before wiping your tongue over the spot.
He pulls away chuckling, wiping at his mouth with his thumb. “You’re impatient today.”
You don’t deny it, instead further proving his point by removing his shirt. He smiles and you can’t help but want to wipe the stupid cockiness off his face. Instead of biting his face off you kiss him again, hot and heavy. There was nothing you needed more than him right now.
He seemed to feel the same, or at least understand how badly you’d been wanting him since the second you showed up unwarranted at the Oblivion practice room. You knew he was going to be busy all week, so why not stop by for a quick greeting in holiday spirits.
“You’re busy aren’t you?” You reply to his earlier statement, unbuttoning his pants as he kissed down your neck. You can feel him laugh from where he stands, pulling away from you ever so slightly making you pout. Why did he always have to drag it out? You could probably show up with nothing but his T-shirt on and a pair of panties under and he’d probably still find a way to make you whine before giving in.
“No, not for another thirty minutes until the guys come in.”
You shrug, “We have enough time then.” Your hand reaches into where you undid his pants, pulling a sharp gasp from the raven haired man.
He groans before grabbing your wrist, “You’re really going to regret starting this.”
Maybe you were, but it’s not like your mind was fixed on how this arrangement would ruin everything and only create more chaos, right now you just needed to touch him and preferably get off some time within the next half hour.
He gave in, lifting you up where your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the relaxing side of the room filled with a mini fridge, bean bag chairs, and finally a couch that he set you down on.
“Are you gonna fuck me now?” You said blatantly. It wasn’t that you both hadn’t gone the whole way, for fucks sake you’d fucked before you even left in the first place, but you knew for some reason he was holding back from completely giving in. The last few hook ups were mostly handjobs or his tongue and fingers but you were starting to grow a little more desperate. Clearly.
He ignores your question, pulling your pants off of you and eyeing the set you had slipped on with no ulterior motives, truly. You were only trying to see if maybe lingerie was more his style, who were you to decline him if he finally decided to get you off with more than just his fingers?
“Darling,” His voice was laced with want as he took in just how much you were dolled up for him. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“That depends,” you muttered, “is it working?”
He dives back onto your lips, answering with his tongue because talking was overrated anyway. You moaned into the kiss, gripping onto his back, the muscular muscle was admittedly not what you were expecting when you first saw him without a shirt but it was not something you were opposed to either.
You whined into his mouth as he pulled away again, all frustrations bursting as you cried out, “Are you fucking serious?”
He giggled, like you were a damn comedian and not two seconds away from pinning him down and riding him until you could finally feel relief. The bastard would probably find a way to make you beg even if that were the case. That was a great tactic for another day though.
“Relax,” He uttered, kissing down your neck and chest all the way until he reached your lower belly, to which he liked a stripe just over the hem of the fabric. You sucked in a breath, he was so close to where you needed him now, his breath fanning against your clothed cunt that began clenching down on nothing, just desperate to be touched.
“Fuck Darling your thighs,” He sucked down on them everywhere that he could. “You don’t know how many times i’ve imagined them, how much i’ve been holding back from leaving them without any marks every time you showed up in front of me with your legs on full display.”
His fingers smoothed over your skin, the redness blooming against your thighs where the bruises had already begun to form. He lifted your legs up sliding off your panties before throwing them over his shoulder. Your heart raced, was he finally giving in?
He pulled his hard length out of his jeans, pumping his huge size twice for good measure. You salvitated at the sight, it was long with a slight girthiness, a long thick vein passing through the middle just barely meeting his pink tip. You’d gotten a taste before and could barely wrap your whole mouth around it without gagging let alone the whole length. You imagined taking it now with zero prep.
“Wait!” You called out, “I don’t think it’ll fit just like that sungie.”
It definitely wouldn’t, but you didn’t want to kill the vibe when you’d been begging him to fuck you for days.
He chuckled, “I know baby, so keep your legs closed tight for me alright?”
You didn’t have time to ask, you felt his size squeeze between your thighs, the wetness of your arousal being the only form of lubrication as his cock slid against your cunt. You let out a high pitch moan as he made contact with your clit.
He holds onto your legs, keeping them from moving as he slowly begins to thrust. You felt the air knocked out of your lungs, the feeling so pleasurable and despite the fact that he wasn’t fucking you it felt like he was.
“Fuck–“ You whine as he built a pace, the slide rough and desperate. You hardly had any control with how good it felt, your entire body was like putty.
He groaned, “Come on darling, keep your legs tight it’ll feel better.”
You nodded, closing your eyes as you tried your hardest to keep your voice quiet which proved to be harder than you were expecting with how insane every movement rubbed your clit. Jisung was out of breath, probably using up what was the last of his control to make sure not to completely slip inside you.
His hand came forward suddenly, undoing the clasp of your bra. Before you could ask, you felt as he began to fondle your breasts, teasing his thumb against your sensitive nipple. You were about to moan when you heard it. The muffled sound of his phone ringing from wherever the fuck he’d left it in this room.
He let out a groan that you only assumed was annoyance, choosing to disregard the call to focus on getting the both of you off. You were close, you felt it in the way your legs shook and the pressure in your stomach threatened to snap. Jisung didn’t look like he was going to last much longer either, his hold on your legs faltering as his thrusts became sloppier.
“Ji- jisung please,” Your body was threatening to release at any moment now, when suddenly you felt him slip, the tip of his cock sliding ever so slightly into your pussy. It stung but it was enough to finally trigger your orgasm, a desperate plea of his name over and over again until you finally came down from your high.
His ruts continued this time at a faster pace as he reached his own peak, the cum spilling out of you helping him slide against you faster. “Fuck baby i’m gonna cum.”
You nodded, a whine leaving your lips as he finished, a few final movements to milk out his orgasm. You fought to keep your eyes open, watching the way his warm liquid covered your stomach, clenching at the thought of it filling you instead.
He tried to steady himself as he came down, bringing one of his hands up to run through his hair where small beads of sweat had formed. The room was silent save for the two of you trying to catch your breaths. A few seconds later you felt him move followed by a piece of fabric on your stomach.
“Sorry,” he whispered shyly. You almost laughed, the cuteness of his just too adorable to go unnoticed.
“It’s okay, I liked it.”
The tips of his ears had gone red, and you knew he was embarrassed because he avoided any eye contact with you, instead cleaning off the, honestly impressive, amount of cum he’d left on you as well as what was dripping down your thighs.
When he finished he helped you slide your clothes back on, the act being a bit intimate if you thought about it too much. So you didn’t, instead paying all of your attention to his body that you wished you appreciated more in the moment. He was fairly sculpted, his abs detailed, you wanted so badly to run your hands against them.
“Are you already imagining round two?” He broke the silence, the shyness from earlier replaced with his same old cocky demeanor, only this time instead of it making you want to strangle him, you found yourself smiling.
“Hmm. Maybe,” You fake a thought, “now i’m thinking about the next time you’ll be free.”
He smiles, and for the first time in a long time you feel your heart beat faster remembering just how happy it made you to make him smile. You allow yourself this moment now, being close enough to him that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. It wouldn’t last long that’s for sure, but you knew this time at least he wouldn’t be the one with his heart on the line.
“There’s a festival we have booked next week, a Christmas one,” He starts, voice low, “I’d want you to go.”
You don’t even allow yourself time to think about it, already having known about the festival since Aeri had brought it up a few weeks ago, granted at the time you didn't know that their band was part of the performing list but it made the decision to go easier.
“Then I will.”
It was a simple answer, one he appreciated a lot by the way his cheeks reddened. He was about to speak when there was a knock from the door. His eyes widened in horror, picking up his phone from where it was long forgotten on the floor to check the time.
He rushed forward to throw on his clothes, the frightened hamster look on his face getting worse with every knock. You had to hold in a laugh, the situation just too awkward to fully process.
You stood up as casual as you could look with your hair tussled, skin slick with sweat, and a subtle shake in your legs. Jisung ran towards the door with you following right behind him to take the exit as soon as he opened it.
He opened it, revealing a tan skinned man who looked not at all happy. “Hey,” The guy you now recognized as the lead singer from up on stage spoke, “What the fuck took you so damn long, i’ve been waiting here in the freezing cold!”
“Don’t you have a key?” Jisung replies.
“I lost that shit two weeks ago,” he pauses, “don’t tell Mark.”
It’s only then that the man registers you, not having noticed you standing right behind Jisung’s tall frame. His brows raised, like he was trying to decipher who the hell you were and why you were in their practice room when Jisung wasn’t really the type to bring a fan into their spaces. He runs his eyes over the two of you, noting the disheveled hair and clothes.
Right when the guy was about to speak to you, Jisung grabbed onto your hand, and with a quick kiss to your cheek, he helped you sneak around the other male, muttering a “See you soon, darling.” As you did your best to scurry away before the man could ask you any questions.
“It was nice meeting you?” The man yells almost like a question.
You find yourself laughing the second you’ve put enough distance, what should’ve felt way more embarrassing felt ecstatic. One thing was for certain, you would never regret him.
☆ 🎸 ☆
“Alright everyone, we can take a break now.” Mark uttered, setting down his guitar to begin stretching his arms.
This practice had lasted roughly two hours so far. Usually Jisung would be dying for a break when they hit the hour and half mark but this time he was anything but happy about it.
“Yo Jisung Park,” Donghyuck set the mic down, running towards Jisung in record time speed, stopping him as he made his way over to the mini fridge. “You gonna come clean now? ”
Jisung rolled his eyes, Donghyuck had been dying to get more information out of him he knew it because throughout practice after every song the brunette would stare at him with an uncomfortable smirk on his face. He was only able to avoid it because Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin all came in a minute after you left. When Jisung refused to acknowledge the singer he only added, “Or maybe you already did that.”
He was seconds away from shushing him until Jaemin joined the conversation. Poking into Jisung’s arm, “What’s this guy on about, huh? You keeping secrets now?”
Jisung barely had time to speak when Jeno suddenly spoke from beside him, “Ah ah we don’t allow secrets here.”
“Didn’t you keep a secret about hooking with Mark’s noona?” Jisung spat towards Jaemin, his wide smile never leaving his face.
“Anymore,” the lead guitarist replied, “We don’t keep secrets anymore.”
“I forgave him a long time ago,” Mark shrugged, an apple in his hand as he took a seat in one of the bean bags. “So what’s got Hyuck on your ass?”
Donghyuck answered before Jisung could, not that he would’ve since he’d recently gotten really good at stalling, “Jisung brought a girl here.”
Jaemin gasped in his typical dramatic flare, “When was this?”
“Earlier today!” Donghyuck answered, earning a scowl from Jisung that he ignored, “She left right before you guys showed up.”
“What about it?” Jisung retorted, patience waning, “You guys bring girls over all the time.”
“That’s true for most of us, but what’s surprising is that it was you.” Mark answered, biting into his apple.
“That’s not all either–“
“Donghyuck don’t–“
“A hunch of mine tells me she’s more than just a friend or a fan.”
That got Jeno’s attention, “Oh? Do we know her?”
Jisung rolled his eyes. Out of all of the people in this room that could’ve found out, why did it have to be Donghyuck?
“We’ve definitely heard of her, my guess is it’s that friend from highschool. Ning, was it?”
“Couldn’t be, i’ve met her and I'm like ninety-nine percent sure her type is not Jisung.” Mark adds.
“Jisungie wouldn’t just sleep with anyone, this has to be someone important to him.” Jaemin pondered.
Jisung groaned, “Who said anything about sleeping–“
“Quiet, hyungs talking,” Jaemin fluttered his lashes, “So if I were Park Jisung and i’m bringing a girl back that I don’t want my hyungs to see then it would have to be—“ He turns around, facing everyone as he snaps his finger, “Mark’s noona.”
“Man?” Mark frowns from where he’s sitting.
Jisung resists the urge to argue when Donghyuck speaks again, “Wasn’t her, I saw the girl. She’s hot alright, might even be a bit out of your league.”
“Who would it be then,” Jeno asks aloud, taking a shot in the dark with his next answer, “Y/N?”
Jisung knows just how obvious he is when the sound of your name alone is enough to make him freeze.
“Y/N?” Donghyuck practically shouts, “the same y/n that disappeared half way across the world?”
Jisung knew one of these days he’d regret going out for drinks with his friends and showing up back at the apartment wasted. Unfortunately for him, he becomes quite the chatterbox after one too many drinks, and his favorite topic is you.
“No fucking way!”
“When did she come back?”
“Can we meet her?”
He ignored all of the questions they asked, looking to Mark desperately for some help, since he was the only one who they all really listened to. Mark cleared his throat, “Guys come on don’t pressure him if he doesn’t wanna talk about it then he doesn’t need to.” Jisung smiled, thankful for Mark’s effort to back him up.
Mark stood up from his seat then, tossing the core of his now finished apple into the trash, “But I am curious on what she was doing here.”
Jisung shut his eyes in disbelief but mostly just acceptance, the rest of the guys starting over with their round of questions until he finally decided to shut it down. “Fine. Yes, I was with y/n. Yes, she did come back and it was a few weeks ago. And no you can not meet her if you guys keep acting like this.”
Donghyuck points and laughs at the others, “I already met her.”
Jisung’s face goes red, he turns away trying to avoid any and all eye contact as he walks towards the mini fridge, Mark really made that apple look good.
“Uh Oh he’s hiding something!” Jaemin cackles maniacally. Jisung still wonders what makes women attracted to him and not just want to file a restraining order on him, he was clearly insane.
“Wait.” Donghyuck thinks for a moment. Looking back on when he first ran into Jisung and you, the way you both stood like deers in headlights, how protective he was of you, the way you wobbled away. “Oh my god. You guys were fucking in here weren’t you?”
Jisung took a second too long to dismiss the older’s claim, the others collectively gasping as they realized Donghyuck was right.
“I knew it!” Donghyuck cried, “Oh my god Jisung. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“We didn’t fuck!” Jisung replied since technically it was true, you both hadn’t gone all the way.
“Man please don’t tell me it was where I was sitting.” Mark’s frown grew worried.
“We didn’t have sex on the bean bag Mark,” Jisung reassured the guitarist, him sighing in relief.
“But you did have sex.”
Jisung groaned, if he had to admit it just to get the rest to shut up then perhaps what was the harm. He thought back to you. If he admitted that the two of you had a sex life and that wasn’t something you wanted everyone to know, he would never forgive himself. In the end he let the guys do what they do best.
Theorize.
“If they did have sex it would’ve had to have been on the couch.” Jaemin concluded like it was the most obvious answer in the world.
Jeno shook his head, “Gross man, I nap there sometimes.”
“Alright guys that’s enough, break is over.” Mark called, the rest of the guys groaning as they walked back to their places, tuning and adjusting their instruments.
Jisung was about to walk back with the group when Mark stopped him, “Look, i’m not going to bug you or anything but I just want to make sure that you know what you’re doing. You’re not just my bandmate you’re all like a family to me, and I know things didn’t end too well with y/n the last time so I just want you to know,” He took in a breath. “I’m here for you.”
Mark always meant what he said, and though he wasn’t the type to meddle as the others did, he only took a step in when he wanted to make sure everything was okay. He cared a lot about the guys, and in the same way he said it, Jisung always viewed him the same way. Growing up an only child they were the closest thing to brothers that he would ever have. And since he didn’t really have his family around, all he had was them.
He nodded at Mark, “Don’t worry, I have a good feeling about this time.” Mark hummed, making his way towards his own place, Jisung following right after him.
☆ 💫 ☆
“You’ve been suspiciously busy lately,” Aeri stated as she observed you from where she sat in the living room, eyeing your body from head to toe.
“Good afternoon to you too?” You said, unscrewing the cap from the water bottle you stopped at the kitchen to grab, gulping down the liquid because running away after sex really did make you dehydrated.
Aeri scrunches her face, “You had sex with Jisung didn’t you?”
You choke on your water, coughing and surprising the girl enough for her to get up to pat your back. Once you finally regain composure you look at her again, contemplating how to answer when your own body practically gave it away. “I—“
“Was probably never going to tell me right?” Aeri rolls her eyes, “you and your darn secrets, have I ever kept a secret from you?”
Right as she says that, a woman you aren’t sure you’ve ever met steps out from her room, a baggy t-shirt on with splotches of red and purple marks on her neck, waving a quick hi before asking where the restroom is, to which Aeri points to the down the hall door to the left.
Your eyebrow arches at your friend, no question needed since she understands exactly what you’re trying to imply. “Yoona isn't a secret!”
Yoona emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, now without the marks on her neck being visible, the power of makeup. She offers a quick bow to the two of you before waving at Aeri to call her later. You make a face as in, hello there’s your secret right there.
Aeri tries again, “Yoona isn’t a secret, she's a new edition!”
“I didn’t even know you were into girls.”
“Yeah well neither did I until I volunteered at the meat association and met a girl named Hazel.”
“What?”
“Not the point,” Aeri changes the subject from her back to you because the two of you had been friends for long enough that she knew how much you loved to deflect. “You’re keeping secrets, you have been since the beginning and usually I would let you just come to me on your own time but now i’m really worried about you.”
You sigh, “Aeri, there’s nothing for you to worry about I can handle this on my own—“
“Really?” She cuts you off, her tone is far from angry and more so coming from a place of worry, “Cause you’ve been ignoring any and all calls from your mom for the past week that she even somehow found my number and tried to ask if I knew anything about where you were.”
Your heart stopped, suddenly feeling sick. It was stupid to think that your mom would just let you leave, she wasn’t the type. She was calculated, she knew how to handle things. Of course she wasn’t going to just allow for you to leave without knowing exactly where you were going. The call to Aeri wasn’t really her asking, it was a warning to you.
“Hey,” Aeri calls out again, “I’m not mad or anything I’m just worried. Jisung is my friend too, and I know that if you’re getting involved with him again and this ends up the same way as before then— I really don’t know how he will react a second time.”
You take in a breath, thinking over her words. Your leaving wasn’t going to affect Jisung, the two of you barely started hanging out together you were sure you meant at most, nothing to the guy other than someone he felt comfortable enough sleeping with. The only one who was going to end up heartbroken was going to be you, and you’d make sure of it.
“Jisung doesn’t like me, not like he used to.” You respond flatly, though now a part of you isn’t sure how true that is anymore.
“Okay,” Aeri sighs in defeat, “If that’s what you think.”
You stand still for a moment, your friend taking her seat on the couch once more as if the conversation had never happened, because Aeri was like that. If you weren’t going to come clean then she wasn’t going to force you to, but she sure as hell was going to make sure you thought things over a bit.
The festival was much more packed than you had expected, with loads of trucks and vendors surrounding the place targeting any and all visitors who were awaiting their favorite bands' sets to begin. You took a deep breath, the anxiousness in your body only getting worse since you first started getting ready with Aeri earlier in the day.
You were a bit nervous, but more specifically shy to see Jisung perform. He mentioned that he would more than likely be busy most of the day, but he’d definitely find you after the show because there was a lot he needed to tell you. So now you stood here, Aeri having escaped from your grip to go check out some candy apple stand that honestly you should’ve gone to check out with her but the idea of eating anything right now only made you feel like you’d vomit.
It didn’t help that you dressed up with a skirt, the pair of linen tights were the only thing keeping you from freezing since you had forgotten to bring a thicker jacket. The sun would be setting soon, so you hoped that the crowd would be able to produce enough uncomfortable heat that would help keep you from freezing.
You let Aeri know that you were going to be waiting around, maybe checking a few early performances before Oblivion had to go in, scheduled about an hour from now. So you did, squeezing through a few people to hear this newer up and coming band called Cosmic Love.
By the third song you felt a sneaky hand wrap around your waist, a gasp pulled from your throat at the contact before you noticed who exactly it was. Behind a stupid black cap that barely hid his eyes, and a black mask that at least did a little better at not giving the man’s identity away if it weren’t for you being able to recognize his tall lanky figure in an instant.
“You’re cheating?” He teased, looking over at the band that were still performing on stage.
“It’s a girl band i’m cheering for, is that still considered cheating?”
He nods as if it were obvious, making you erupt in giggles that you were lucky weren’t loud enough to drag the audience's eyes onto you both. Jisung wasn’t exactly unknown, the band had a pretty solid fanbase now so people noticing the Oblivion’s bassist out in the crowd would definitely pull a reaction.
You can tell he’s smiling through his uncovered eyes. He leans in closer, pulling the mask down slightly to whisper, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”
You agree, holding onto his hand as he drags you away, music fading into the background. The two of you make it to what you assume is the artist's rooms, groups of trailers with different names written all over the place, leading you to the one with Oblivion written on it.
The room is silent, except for the distant music that you could hear from the stage being only a few feet away. You looked around, taking in the room around you. The heater was definitely on, since it was warmer than outside, other than that it was pretty empty. Most of the space was taken up with the band's equipment and a random table with uno cards left all over it.
You raised a brow, grabbing onto one of the cards and turning your attention back over to Jisung, who stood coolly, his eyes already on you before you even turned around.
“You brought me here to play uno?”
He laughed, “Yeah, picked you from the crowd just to make you eat four cards.”
“Hey,” you argue playfully, “I’m actually really good at uno!”
He hummed, walking towards you steadily, urging you to continue.
“I’m serious!” You grin just as he finally makes it straight to your face, his hands coming up around your waist again making your heart flutter.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, breathing in each other's scents as he pulls you into his hold. You pray that he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating, or if he did that he at least wouldn’t ask. He smelled the same he always did, only this time slightly of cherries.
“I missed you.” He broke the silence, his voice barely over a whisper.
You were thankful for the position now, his face in your neck allowing your body to be a bit more vulnerable, warmth spreading on your face with just how intimate the moment felt.
You didn’t have time to respond when the front door slammed open, a group of men walking in with one who you recognized in as the guy who definitely knew you and Jisung were fucking since he had caught you guys a week prior, the other being that dude with a creepy smile. Jisung had already moved away from your hold, well not fully, as his hand still held onto you in an almost protective way.
“You?” your eyes widened, the creepy smile guy making the same expression as you only with his wide smile on display. “You’re that one guy from the hallway!”
“You’re Y/N right?” The lead singer answers, assuming he was the one you were referring to. Your brows furrow, “It was just a hunch, i’m Donghyuck.” He says cutting you off again.
Jisung groans, “What are you guys doing here, I thought you guys were busy sneaking around and grabbing food!”
“Yeah well we did too,” The quiet one with a mole under his eye interrupts, “Until we turned around and noticed our only bassist had disappeared.”
Jisung doesn’t respond to that. You try to hold back a smile, wondering if he had left the group after he spotted you.
Smiley dude sighs walking towards where the two of you stood, “Look it would be different if it were Mark who disappeared, I could cover his parts.”
“Dude?” A man replies who you could only guess was Mark.
“But we don’t have another bassist, so try not just escaping without letting any of us know,” The guy says, patting Jisung's shoulder. “Hey there by the way, long time since I last saw you.”
Jisung turns to you in confusion, “You know Jaemin?”
He doesn’t seem angry when he says it, but you panic anyway hoping there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings, “No! I mean no not really, remember how I told you one of the first days I came back I met some creep who was way too talkative.”
The guys laugh, mostly at Jaemin while Jisung puts two and two together. Jaemin rolls his eyes at the group, “I met her first technically so I’m not sure why you guys are laughing so hard.”
Donghyuck laughs, “Yeah and almost scared her away!”
Jisung tugs you a bit closer, leaning close as the other guys are completely distracted with bullying Jaemin, “He didn’t make you uncomfortable did he?”
You shake your head, “No, I mean he just kind of talks a lot.”
Jisung chuckles, “Yeah unfortunately that’s just how Jaemin is. A man of too many words.”
“I’ll have you know,” Jaemin defends himself to the others, “Many women love how free spirited and confident I am!”
“Oh i’m sure,” Donghyuck replies sarcastically, ignoring the other to look closely at the proximity between you and Jisung. He walked forward, ignoring Jisung who’s obviously trying to play body guard with how close he’s standing next to you, Hyuck could laugh, Jisung was always so obvious.
“Hello!” Donghyuck starts, “You remember me right? I’m the cool lead singer, i’m sure you at least remember my voice right?”
You’re about to reply when Jaemin starts, “Ugh can you be any more conceited. Na Jaemin,” He introduces, this time he seems pretty chill without the whole wide smiling in a dark hallway, “amazing guitarist. Have heard a lot about you, didn’t think Jisung was your type.”
“Hey don’t be rude,” Mark warns, taking the time to introduce himself simple enough you think he might be the only normal one. “Mark, i’m the leader. It’s nice meeting you—“
“Darling?” The last one responds, provoking Jisung to get a reaction.
“Jeno—“
“Ah,” you nod in understanding, “so then you guys must already know a lot about me.”
“No not really, we’ve just heard Jisung sleep talk and call out to a Darling a looooot— Ouch!”
Donghyuck earns a slap to his arm.
“That one is Jeno, our drummer,” Jisung hurries the introduction, “Are you guys leaving now?”
“Why would we do that, if you haven’t noticed buddy okie preshow is currently on stage and we’re going up in the next hour, we found you to tell you that you need to hurry up and tune your shit.” Donghyuck replies.
“I would’ve said it in a nicer way,” Mark says, “but he’s right.”
Jisung groaned, it was so like the others to jump in just to tell him to hurry up, if anything Jisung was always the first to get ready, he’d already tuned his shit how was it his fault the guys still hadn’t done their duties.
You smiled, patting on his shoulder. “Hey it’s okay,” You say, “I’ll be in the crowd waiting for you.”
He contemplates for a moment, before coming to an obvious decision. “Go with me, I promise it won’t take long.” You frown, looking over at the others wondering how they’d feel about that. “they won’t mind.” Jisung assures you. He knew you so well that he could practically read your thoughts straight from your head.
“Okay,” you whisper. He smiles, relieved by your answer.
“Alright then,” Mark coughs, bringing all attention to him, “Let’s make this quick, the sooner we finish the sooner we have free time for ourselves.”
The group nods at the guitarist, hurrying out of the trailer. Jisung’s hand never once leaves your own, dragging you with him to be a part of something you never thought you’d ever be in the position to see. Your stomach churns, the wave of anxiety from earlier threatening you as you try to distract yourself from it.
💫/🎸
The guys finished up quicker than you’d thought, well at least most of them did. Jisung had already tuned and did a few practice sessions before he went out with the guys. Now as all of you stood backstage in one of the smaller practice areas, he ran up towards you, “How is it being back here?”
You fake contemplate, “Hmmm, I don’t know, I guess I can see the appeal of groupie life.”
His brows raise, “I’d hope that you just mean me.”
“Who else would it be? The other band from earlier?”
He rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand once again and tracing his thumb over your palm, “Do you wanna get out of here?”
“Ji,” You start, looking behind him to see the guys in their own world doing a few practice warmups on their own, “You have like thirty minutes until you have to be on stage.”
“Yeah but what can I do,” He comes in closer, his lips tracing barely a centimeter from your neck, “I want you so badly.”
You bite your lip, hoping to stifle to gasp you almost let free, your neck always so sensitive. He shifts his head, looking into your eyes with his pupils wide, his desire so obvious and enchanting. You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to, and right now you wanted him just as much.
The slightest breath of a yes is enough to have him pulling you out from the room, the other guys asking where he’s going to which he ignores since he’s clearly a man on a mission right now.
He led you to a room that was fully empty and a bit crowded. The sound of the pre performers could be heard so clearly from here. “Where’s this place?” You ask, curious.
“Crew room,” He replies coolly as he twists the lock. “Don’t worry, it’s mostly unoccupied since they built the new one on the other side.
He doesn’t give you much time to ask anymore questions before he’s pulling you up into his arms. You yelp, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you onto one of the last few pieces of furniture in the discarded room which happened to be a counter.
“How do you know this?”
He lets out a small breath, his hand coming to your face to admire you. “I made sure to look around before running to get you.”
Of course he did, you could almost laugh now. It seems like the two of you were on the same page of where things were going for tonight. You placed your hand over his own, leaning in to kiss him deeply. Jisung immediately let in, groaning into the kiss needy as ever.
You pulled away to catch a quick breath, Jisung already kissing down your neck to repaint it from the ones he left last week that were already fading. Your hips shift on their own, body begging to be touched.
“Jisung,” You moan his name, he hums, the vibration adding to your arousal with how sensitive your neck was. “Fuck—“
He cuts off any of your previous thoughts, his hands sliding through the thin sweater of yours, through the scrappy shirt you had under to discover you wearing no bra underneath. He groaned, his huge hands cupping your breast to feel you up, thumb tracing over your sensitive nipple making you stifle a moan.
“Ji–“ He pinched, the pain quickly fading into pleasure, your legs wrapping around him tighter, craving any and all kinds of proximity.
“You never told me,” He starts, his other hand moving to lift your skirt up, sliding the fleece tights down, the sudden open air grazing your hot skin. “You never said anything about meeting Jaemin, why?”
His fingers trace over your soaked panties, refusing to fully come into contact with where you needed him most. “What?” You call, voice high and dry and mostly confused.
“You didn’t say it was Jaemin, why?”
“I–“ you squeak out, your brain short circuiting as he pushes his knuckle against your sensitive clit. “I dont–“
He clicks his tongue, “Come on darling,” his knuckle rubs against you with slightly more pressure, “use your words baby.”
“I– I didn’t know his name.” You whined, “Please– Fuck please Jisung.”
Jisung hums in response, “He was trying to impress you earlier, he’s always been an attention fiend,” You felt your heart race, not having expected Jisung to be so overprotective over you. It was super hot. “I guess he’s also trying to get back at me.”
You let out a cry, the pinch to your nipple this time felt stronger, his voice low as he disconnects his hands from where he cupped your tit, "Since I'm the only one who gets to have you like this.”
“Please–“ you beg again, earning another click of his tongue.
“What did I say about using your words?”
“Please Ji I only want you.”
His pupils dilate at your confession, “I know baby, so why don’t we let him know that.”
You let out another sob of pleasure as he moves to undress you, your sweater discarded onto the floor as he lifts your shirt to uncover your chest. He pauses for a split second, “Color?”
“Green– fuck.” You groan. When either of you would take on a rougher play you’d both make sure to have your safe words ready. As much as Jisung seemed mad, he wasn’t, but he knew how much you liked when he pretended to be, taking control over your body and leaving you begging for more.
He yanks your panties down, giving you barely a second to breathe before he’s plunging two of his fingers knuckle deep into your soaked cunt. You moan, the stretch is a bit rough but pleasurable. He stretches them a bit, trying to diminish the pain from the abrupt invasion, your wetness offering enough lubrication for him to push his long and slender fingers deeper, reaching parts of you that you on your own never seem to reach.
You fight a string of curses from leaving your throat, one hand of his pistoling his fingers in and out of you, the other rubbing circles around your tit. You feel like you could cry, the stretch hitting you just right. Your hips raise up, struggling to stay still with how fast he was fucking you with his fingers.
“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs, adding another finger. A rush of pleasure running through you with how full you felt, his thumb coming to rub around your clit. “Jisung–“ You cry out, feeling your orgasm coming any moment now.
“Come on,” He says, “cum for me darling.”
With a few last rough thrusts, you squeeze around him, his fingers continuously fucking you at the same speed, milking your orgasm until it’s overwhelming.
You whine, the overstimulation becoming almost unbearable as he continues his movements. “Jisungie please I can’t—“
“Yes you can baby,” He coos, “one more on my fingers, you can do that for me, right?”
There’s tears streaming down your face when you nod, already feeling your second high approaching just around the corner.
“Color?” He asks, his breath heavy like he’s been holding himself back the entire time.
“Green—“ You scream out, cumming for the second time around his fingers.
“There baby I knew you could do it,” He encourages you, his fingers coming to a stop once he notices your face scrunching in discomfort, he slips his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to suck on the arousal you coated them with. He hums, “You taste so sweet, like cherries. Do you wanna taste it?”
You whimper, nodding softly. He kisses you then, this time the heaviness from earlier is all gone. He kisses you like you're delicate, like if he kisses you any harder you will disappear. You can taste yourself on his tongue, sucking on it pulling a groan from him.
“Come on baby,” He says after pulling away, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He’s about to reach down when you hold onto his arm.
“What about you?” You whine, lifting your shaky knee to rub against where his bulge is visible through his pants.
He winces at the touch, “I’ll take care of it on my own.”
You bring your arm forward, cupping him through his pants, “But I want to help you,” you pout, “please baby can I help you?”
Fuck having any self control, Jisung nodded. You pulled him into a deeper kiss, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out from his boxers. You pumped it slowly twice before bringing his tip to your entrance, he winces again wrapping a hand over your own to stop you, “Fuck– are you sure about this?”
You hum, “Please Ji,” You call his name like it’s a prayer, “i’ve wanted you to fuck me for so long.”
He groans, “I don’t have a condom.”
“Please?” Your bordering tears, still fucked out from your two orgasms and yet deperate for more. Ready for him to take you however he wanted. “I’m on the pill, you can finish inside.”
Jisung’s breath catches in his throat, fuck you were not making it easy. He’d wanted you for the longest time, but a part of him was worried that if he gave you this then he’d have to come clean. He looked into your eyes, contemplating his next choice.
He’d been wanting to confess to you, the fear eating him up all this time. He needed to tell you how you never once left his mind, that even for the five years you were gone he couldn’t move on, countless women and yet none of them were you. The way he looked at you now told him enough, your eyes looking into him just as he always looked into yours.
Then it struck him, maybe you did want him just as much as he wanted you. Maybe things were different this time. He invited you today to tell you everything. Well more so sing you everything. One of the many songs he’d written about you that he showed the guys who had no problem adding to the setlist.
You called out his name again, this time soft and sweet. He knew then that the order it played out didn’t really matter, he wouldn’t say no to you. Not when you looked at him like you knew how he felt because you felt it too.
He pulled you in for a kiss again, this time hoping you could read his heart with every breath shared. He lined himself up this time, the tip of his cock red and angry, desperate for your touch.
“Are you sure?” He asks once more.
You nod, “Please.”
He concedes, pushing slowly, allowing your cunt seconds to adjust to his size despite the amount of time he spent stretching you out. You wince, his girth feeling much bigger than you remembered.
“You–You’re too big—“
“It’s okay, darling,” He coos, praising you as you take every single inch of his until finally his hips meet yours. He gives you a moment to adjust, your cries winding down as you adjust to his size.
He lets out a shaky breath, your walls gripping him so tightly. You look at him through tear stained eyes, nodding at him to try moving.
His first few thrusts are agonizingly slow, dragging moans from your lips without even trying. You clench around him causing him to wince in pleasure, “Please go faster”
You feel as his thrusts become sharper, every slide enveloping your entire body in what felt like a higher ground than the one you were on now. You couldn’t even hear yourself only registering the sound of skin slapping skin and his own groans.
And when he angled his cock deeper you screamed out, every thrust hitting your sweet spot.
“Fuck– your taking me so well,” He groaned, “Your pretty pussy was made for me, huh?” You nod. “Come on say it baby,” He thrusts even harder, your voice cutting out as you try to moan.
“‘Was made for you, you croak out. Your body feels numb, completely cock drunk, saliva pooling ever so slightly out of your mouth as he makes you see stars. You feel your orgasm coming too late, clenching down on his cock as you finally cum.
Waves of pleasure hit your body, the sound of knocking not even registering through your brain as you come down. Jisung is quick to follow, his warning coming out just as quickly as yours. You feel as his cum shoots inside of you, soaking your walls and filling you to the brim.
He groans, his final thrust sloppy, pushing his cum in deeper and causing you to whine. Silence fills the room for barely a second, the knocking at the door hard to ignore with how loud it is.
“Yo Jisung, we gotta be out in less than five minutes!” The leader shouted out.
Jisung sucked in a breath, looking at you like a scared hamster. You shook your head like ‘I don’t know I just got fucked to next sunday’.
He cleared his throat calling back to Mark on the other side, “Yeah, I’ll be out.” He cringed, making you laugh.
“Okay yeah just like,” Mark pauses awkwardly before adding, “Clean up fast and hurry the fuck out!”
You laugh, hearing the footsteps leave in quick steps. Jisung looks absolutely horrified.
He gulps, “Do you think they–“
“Heard everything?” You ask rhetorically, “Yeah probably.”
He groans, his head resting on your shoulder for a quick second before he’s quickly moving off of you. He slides out of you, the two of you groaning at the slight sting.
His cum is dribbling out of you, the sight is hot and if he didn’t need to be on stage within the next three minutes he would definitely ask for another round. He shakes the thought off, panicking and reaching for the first piece of fabric on the floor, using it to wipe his liquid off of your thighs and cunt where it keeps slipping out of you.
“Ji, just give me back my panties, leave it.” You say, sitting up. He passes you the fabric, you slip it on hoping it’ll hold it enough until you’re back home. You look up, Jisung helping you put your clothes back on until you notice the fabric in his hand.
“Ji,” He hums. “That’s my sweater.” You say, staring at the now cum stained piece of clothing.
He goes red, profusely apologizing for using it and not realizing that it was your sweater. You laugh, he was always so cute. Guess that would never change.
“This isn’t how I wanted things to go.” He sighs, the two of you looking fairly more composed than you did a minute ago.
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“I mean that I wanted to tell you something before all of this,” He trails off. You tilt your head, waiting for him to further explain. He takes a deep breath before finishing his sentence. “Just, watch me on stage. I can help you understand better then.”
You nod your head, ignoring the way the anxiety from before was beginning to creep up again, this time the feeling barely able to be ignored. You hope he doesn’t notice it.
There’s another strict knock at the door, calling him to hurry up. His eyes shine as they look at you, pulling everything you feared back onto the surface as if it never left in the first place.
“I’ll see you,” He says, kissing your cheek before running to go follow the guys onto stage.
You suck in a shaky breath, giving yourself a moment to breathe. It’ll be fine. It has to be, you promised it would be.
☆ 💫 ☆
You spotted Aeri early on in the performance, she was a few feet away with a candy apple in her hand dancing along to the music with a guy right next to her that you didn’t recognize at all. She called out to you in between the third and fourth song where you said hello to the new guy she introduced as Johnny.
You were lucky enough that since the music played you had something to put your entire focus on while avoiding Aeri’s gaze that later turned into a smirk once your hair shifted while dancing revealing a brand new purple bruise there. She winked at you, before turning to the guy and dancing along with him.
The performance was going well, though there was still a part of you full of anxiety you at least were able to tune it out and focus along with the loud music, more specifically the bass. It didn’t help that after every song, Jisung was looking into the crowd, eyes landing directly on you like it was muscle memory to just find you through thousands of others.
It was during the last couple of songs when they changed a few things, instead of their regular garage mixed sound they shifted for a more soft rock melody. You heard the opening keys, Jaemin having swapped from guitar to a keyboard, the first few chords producing such a sweet and melodic sound and right as Mark strummed the first few notes, Jisung began to sing.
Every lyric flowed nicely, his vocal tone had always been one that you appreciated, the deep voice of his felt so comforting, transporting you back in time to when he first started singing. You remembered those days so clearly, coming home from school and he would sing to you, or even on your sad days when you missed your mother and she would decline every one of your calls. Those times he’d make sure to sing you your favorite songs, and at some point he’d even started writing songs for you.
Most of them you weren’t allowed to listen to, he told you it was because they weren’t ready, but a part of you knew it had to be because of a different reason. There was the time on his fourteenth birthday, you’d saved up all of the allowance your parents had given you to buy him the bass he’d wanted. He looked the happiest you ever saw him, then.
As the song progressed you listened to each and every one of the lyrics directed towards you, his eyes never once shifting from where you stood.
‘I would take the chance to live the rest of my life alone just if I could see you once more.
Cause I couldn’t live a life without you, not when everything I do is for you.
Not when you’re the only one for me, so please don’t leave me lonely.’
You took in a harsh breath, feeling as if your world would collapse.
Fuck.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. Aeri wasn’t supposed to be right.
Almost as if she sensed you thinking about her she called out to you, your phone in her hand as she gave it to you. “I forgot to tell you, your phone has been ringing since earlier.” That’s right you had given her your phone earlier since she was the one with a bag.
You glanced down at the caller ID, and suddenly it felt like your entire world was falling apart. Aeri looked at you worriedly then, her eyes running over you head to toe and asking if you were okay. You could barely hear her over how hard your heart was beating.
The last thing you could remember was telling her you had to go, then running through the crowd before she could even try to reach you. You breathed out, debating answering the call at all. Away from the music there’s barely any food trucks open, about two or three people are actually in line but even then you still feel paranoid.
The phone keeps ringing, only this time you choose to answer it.
“Miss L/N?” You almost broke down hearing his familiar voice. He must’ve heard you enough that he started again, “Ah, Your mother told me I should communicate with you since you’ve been too occupied to answer her. She was wondering if we could push up our wedding date.”
Wedding Date.
Of course, because no matter how long you thought you could run from everything you still had your duties to attend to for your mothers sake, even if it was to marry a man that you didn’t even love.
☆ 🎸 ☆
When Jisung finished his song to you he noticed your absence immediately, but before he could allow himself to succumb to any anxious ideas he stopped himself, because maybe you had snuck backstage to see him after the show.
By the last song, he knew it wasn’t the truth. He could even spot Aeri from the crowd, trying to call someone through her phone. A part of him wished that this wasn’t exactly what was going on. Maybe you had stopped to go get some food? There were still a couple of trucks left behind, he forgot to mention that afterwards the guys were planning on going out for dinner. He was going to mention it after talking to you, he was hopeful that he’d get to introduce you as his girlfriend as you all were seated at the table.
The guys sensed it. He could tell by the way they quieted down as they all stepped off the stage noticing your lack of presence. Jisung should be mad at you. You left him, again, but even when he tried to be angry the first time you’d left, he couldn’t be mad at you. This time though, unlike before, he couldn’t even find a reason to be mad at himself.
He allowed himself a breath, the guys had left him to himself in their shared trailer for a moment, so now every possibility was flooding his mind. In the end it didn’t matter. There was no other way to look at this situation. He should’ve listened to Mark, or even to Donghyuck of all people. But he didn’t, and in any other timeline he was sure he wouldn’t have either.
Because everyone else were assuming that he’d fallen into a trap he’d so cautiously been trying to avoid, what they didn’t realize was that he went in fully content with the outcome.
Part Four: Late December
You
☆ 💫 ☆
It had been a week since all things went to shit. You’d hung up the second you heard the words wedding date, choosing instead to grab and pack as many clothes from Aeri’s place to run away. You were seriously going to leave again, but then you thought about Jisung. Every word he spoke through the song. You couldn’t leave him, not again.
So here you laid in complete isolation, staying in your old bedroom at your grandmother's. She stopped by to bring you food every so often, but other than that even she had a feeling that you wanted to be alone.
Your mother had called a few more times, probably expecting you to have already booked your flight back to France. But you hadn’t, and you still weren’t sure you were going to. There was too much going on in your head. How everything you didn’t want to happen happened anyway, and again, it was your fault.
It was your fault how you stupidly thought that you could come back home just to leave again like nothing ever meant anything. Because everything meant something, every place, every person, but especially him.
And now even if you were to stay what justice would that do? If you were Jisung you would never want to see you ever again. Judging by his silence, you were sure that he was on the same page. You wouldn’t even allow yourself to cry over him when you were the one who fucked up.
There was a subtle knock on the door, you wiped your eyes making sure that there wasn’t a single tear before answering with a weak, “Come in.”
Only it wasn’t your grandmother with a plate of breakfast, not unless the plate of breakfast had transformed into a pink haired woman who looked way too much like the best friend you had run away from.
You refused to look at her, not when you were already way too close to crying and seeing her look at you pitifully would just be the stick that broke the camels back.
The door shut then, leaving you and Aeri in silence. The sound of her footsteps approaching until she finally spoke, “You left me like a bad hookup.” There was humor in her voice, one that you glossed over with how sorry you felt.
“I’m sorry,” You admitted defeatedly, as if to say she was very far from being wrong, and you should’ve realized it sooner.
She sighed, “Don’t be sorry, I’m not mad I understand. Sometimes I'm too right about everything that it makes me want to leave myself behind.”
You don’t answer, nothing but your faults flooding your brain so much that you could barely register the world around you. She must’ve understood the sort of funk you were in because she moved a step closer.
“Y/N.”
Your heart squeezed at the mention of your name, which was starting to annoy you. You were acting like a kid in trouble for the first time. The idea of how aggravating you must be to everyone right now made it so that you actually made eye contact with the woman, her face full of concern.
“You always were your own worst enemy,” she sighed, before clapping her hands together loud enough to make you flinch. “Okay no more sulking. I, as your friend, am required to be here for you whenever you are sad and I've been a pretty shitty friend that I left you alone in your own thoughts for a week too long.”
You frowned, “No that’s not true all you’ve done is be a good friend. You let me stay with you and I just left without even giving a thank you.”
She rolled her eyes, “Y/N, do you think i’m here for a thank you?”
You pause for a moment, the obvious answer being no, of course not, but one part of you is still faulting yourself for not having given one anyway.
“God, I love you y/n I really do but seriously?” She scowls fully offended, “I’m not here for a little sorry, or for a thank you, I’m here because my best friend needs me and even if she thinks that she doesn’t deserve to be around anyone I know otherwise.”
Your brows are furrowed, her finger shushing you before you could reply, “Shh no no no, you’re just going to guilt yourself more and then want to push away everyone because you think you’re the problem.”
“Aren’t I?”
“Y/N, things happen. Feelings happen. The unexpected happens and you can’t just put the blame on yourself.”
“You don’t understand,” You can feel the tears forming in your eyes, using all the last of your strength to fight them from falling.
“Then help me understand! Help me see it from your point of view because all i’m getting is that you’re sitting here soaking in self hatred when I know you as one of the most selfless people in the world.”
You shake your head, the tears flooding out. “I’m not, i’m far from that. I got involved with Jisung again even when I knew this couldn’t last forever.”
“Why can’t it?”
“Because Aeri,” Your voice cracks, “I have to go. My mother is content with setting me up with some man I barely even know because it’s my duty to her as her daughter. To marry into a wealthy family and play as a puppet for the rest of my life.”
She’s silent, listening to you as you rant on about everything, finally breaking from the amount you’ve held back from telling. “I don’t even get a choice. Not if I want to be heir to everything they built. I never even wanted to leave you all behind the first time but I had to.”
“Why?” Aeri asks, and the question itself is harmless but you shake your head because how could you explain. As far as you knew, your mother wanted nothing to do with your upbringing. Yet she showed up anyway one day. Telling you that there was no other option, if you were to stay behind then she would cut you off.
“She promised to fund my education if I left with her.” You were fully sobbing now, “and grandma was only getting older so I thought it would be for the best if I left with my mother. To come back with a degree and be able to support the two of us.”
Aeri sighs, pulling you into a comforting hug. Those first few months in France had been nothing but stress and pain. Taking on an education in a foreign country where you hardly understood any of what they were talking about. Even as a graphic design major it proved to be more challenging than ever.
You thought after the last years of school you would be able to come back home. To start up a small business and pursue and build your own career, maybe then when you proved to be successful enough you would talk to Jisung and admit just how much you missed him.
Everytime anyone had left you a message you felt a huge lump in your heart. So you began to ignore each and every message, and as the years went on you grew more and more stuck. Your mother had come to you on a random day, inviting you to some dinner with another family, the Lee’s.
Hyunjae Lee was the man you were set to marry as long as both of your families had kept their promises. You’d realized it then. The reason your mother had come back for you was to secure a business deal with this family, and what better option than to a contractual marriage.
She expected it from you, she’d told you repeatedly how you owed her this. She’d given you freedom for more than half of your life that not many other kids get to entertain, so now you must pay it back.
You couldn’t do this, not after you made a promise that you would return home. If you were to marry into the family of a man that you had just met then you were to be tied down for the rest of your life, but if you were to leave now then you were to walk away from the future you had promised to have. To repay your grandmother for all of her struggles, so you had made your choice, though it didn’t last long at all.
A day after brunch with your new fiancé you had panicked. He was a decent guy, actually pretty kind for someone who came from such a high class. You exchanged numbers with the man, hoping he couldn’t read your solemn expression. And the next day when he texted and it wasn’t the man you had really wanted, you couldn’t take it anymore.
You needed time away before you locked yourself in a cage, choosing to book the first ticket you could back home. It’s how you ended up here. A trip that you thought would give you the strength to move on, only leaving you facing everything you thought was over head on.
Aeri held you tightly as you recalled to her every single event, the calls the texts you’d ignored just because if you answered you knew you’d come crawling back home fighting for Jisung to forgive you. You weren’t supposed to see him ever again, it was the best that way, at least that’s what you thought. Now you weren’t so sure.
“Look,” Aeri starts after your sobs from earlier come to a few sniffles, “I appreciate you finally letting everything off your chest, but I think you know that i’m not the one who should be hearing all of this.”
She was referring to Jisung. Of course she was. And you knew you should talk to him but how could you explain everything and expect him to just forgive you? You had played with his emotions, whether you meant to or not. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you again and remind himself of all of the pain you caused him.
“I can’t Aeri not when he's so much better off without me.”
“You can’t say that, it’s unfair. He decided to keep seeing you even when he could’ve avoided you like the plague this entire time, and honestly everytime i’ve so much as spared him a glance this past week I've realized that he never once has appeared that way.”
You hadn’t really seen anyone this past week, but that didn’t stop you from knowing how he was doing these past weeks. Your grandma had mentioned something about seeing him in passing when she was coming home from groceries and he apologized for not making time to visit her. He hadn’t looked too good, maybe a bit like he needed a friend, your grandma had said.
She’s frowning at you now, no longer holding back as she speaks with zero remorse, “The least you can do is try to talk to him, he deserves to make that choice for himself so who are you to decide for him, because it’s clear to everyone else that he had already decided to forgive you. You just took that chance away from him.”
Her words clicked then. Could it have been so obvious? Everytime you distanced yourself from the people around you only because you thought it was for their best interest, in your mothers eyes that was the same way she thought of you. It was in your best interest that you follow every rule she had set out for her.
In a lot of ways, Aeri was right, because if you really loved the boy you grew up with the way you claimed to, then you would’ve allowed him the opportunity to admit that he had forgiven you. The only person left was you who hadn’t forgiven yourself.
What did that mean now? It was simple enough for you to understand. You had to find a way to talk to him, at least after you made a quick pit stop.
☆ 🎸 ☆
Jisung hadn’t spent a lot of time doing anything except for spending all of his time in the practice room. Even with no performances coming up because of the holiday season, he needed a release. The guys had forced him to go out with them at least once, for a quick stop at a convenience store because really he had no desire to talk to anyone let alone deal with any kind of crowd at a club right now. They at least understood that part, though he had a creeping suspicion that there was something else.
He spent Christmas with Mark’s family, they were pretty welcoming and didn’t make him feel like an outsider even though he very much was, with his very solemn stray kitten look that made Mark’s mom slide over an extra slice of homemade lemon cake that her friend back in Canada had given her the recipe to.
Jisung had decided maybe it was best to spend the rest of his time in solitude, mainly because he hated being the vibe killer to everyone around him. It’s why he had declined joining any part of Donghyuck’s New Year celebration, and also because the last thing he wanted was to get drunk and wake up with a hangover on January first.
That’s how he had ended up roaming around the area, bungeoppang in hand as he sat with the thickest sweater he owned at the local park. Don’t get him wrong, he was semi aware that he looked like a weirdo, like what kind of grown man sits on a random park swing in the middle of the night on new year’s eve. This wasn’t just some park though it did mean a lot. It was where he’d first met you.
You, with a pretty bad haircut and a little bit of a thick accent when you spoke Korean that he couldn’t exactly put a name to because as a seven year old the only places he knew were school, home, and space. You must’ve been from the moon, it would explain why you spoke a bit weird and why you’d never tried bungeoppang before.
Jisung smiled at the memory, he ended up being wrong about a lot of things, but one thing stayed true. You must’ve been from the moon at least in another life because for some reason even when he couldn’t see you he felt your presence.
The air was honestly freezing, yet he felt all the more warm with the precious memory. He promised the guys that he wouldn’t allow any of his own problems to affect the band, and with their schedules becoming more and more busy since the festival he knew he had to set his mind straight. So now, he sat with the idea that once the clock struck twelve he would wash every piece of baggage from the past five years, and start a fresh and clean beginning.
“Jisung!” He heard your voice then, his body scrunching up in response because seriously he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol so was he losing his mind. A psyche evaluation was not what he was expecting to take into the new year. But then he heard you again, this time closer than before. Standing up off of the swing and turning around to see you, who seriously looked like you ran a mile to get here, a bag in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other that only made him realize you had been running barefoot.
“Wait give me a minute,” You spoke, clearly fighting for an ounce of air to fill your lungs because you had spent the last of your breath screaming out his name. “Fuck I really underestimated how long it would take me to get here.”
“What are you doing here?” He asked, not in a rude way but because seriously the last thing he expected was to see you.
You had finally caught your breath, gulping down the last of your fears before you came clean. “I had to see you.”
When he didn’t reply you stepped closer, “I haven’t been honest, and for the longest time I told myself it was in everyone’s best interest that I kept it that way because I didn’t deserve any of you in my life. But after a long enough time and really some slaps of courage from Aeri I realized that I never once considered how you felt. So i’m here to tell you everything but mostly to allow you the choice to choose how you still feel about me afterwards.”
Jisung wasn’t really sure how to reply but he did know that you had always been the type to put yourself down, it was always something he wished he could help you see differently.
He nodded, encouraging you to continue. “I love you, I think I always have but for some reason I just was so scared that I would only bring out the worst from you. When I left back to France with my mom I thought space away from you was the best for you.” You sniffled and even with how rough things were Jisung still wished he could hold you close to comfort you.
“That’s not the only thing though, I also needed a good education so I could come back and finally be enough for everyone here, and my mother was going to fund it all as long as I did everything she wanted. So I sat through years of huge galas where I had to learn the names of people who looked at me like I was never going to measure up to my family’s legacy, until eventually my mother had the brilliant idea that the only way i’d ever make it was by attaching a new last name to my own.”
Jisung felt his heart twist, had you really suffered so much being alone? He remembered Ningning mentioning having visited you once on a business trip within the last year. How you had said you were relieved to see a familiar face, especially with how lonely the atmosphere was. She said one of the main things that stood out though was that even as much as you smiled and said things were going well, it never met your eyes.
“I came back here spontaneously but it was because I needed time. I needed to feel like my life was in my control even though it hadn’t been for a long time and wouldn’t ever be if I went through with the arranged marriage.” Your voice kept its composure despite the way your hands shook. “I was never supposed to stay here, but then when I saw you again it’s like I couldn’t leave. I wanted to be around you, in any way shape or form even if you didn’t see me as anything other than a warm body.”
He couldn’t believe it, because never once had he seen you as such. You have always and would forever be the woman who taught him what love was.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to see you sooner and tell you all of this,” You added, “I had to see my mother and let her know that the wedding wasn’t going to happen. I talked to her a bit, she wasn’t too pleased but as long as i’m out of her hair she doesn’t really care. I’m free now so I took the first flight back and got your address through Aeri–“
“Aeri has never once come over to my place?”
“Yeah she said not to mention that because it was a secret, anyway I thought you’d probably be home but clearly I was wrong and it took me even longer to convince the guys to tell me where you went.”
“I didn’t let the guys know though? I shut my phone off just so they wouldn’t follow me.”
“Yeah well Jaemin said he had his ways.”
Jisung groaned, already knowing what exactly that meant in Jaemin’s language. He definitely had an airtag on him.
“I also passed by a small vendor and,” you opened the bag in your hand, revealing a few of the fish shaped bread hidden inside. Jisung couldn’t help but smile, you had remembered just as he did. “I packed one of each, just in case you wanted to try them all and argue about which was the best filling.” Your voice grew quiet then, “That’s only if you want to.”
The answer was obvious to him the second you had appeared in front of him explaining yourself. He was never going to forget you, it’s not what he was planning on doing in the first place. He just wanted for things to be honest, none of the confusion on where the two of you stood, just true and open love. All he ever wanted was you.
He took a few steps closer, his arms coming up around you in a tight hug, “There’s never been anything else i’ve ever wanted more than you.”
You let out a breath of relief, a few tears streaming down your face with how much pressure was lifted from off of your shoulders. Like there was a magnetic field between the two of you that you had no interest in fighting against, your lips met one another’s. The kiss was sweet and soft with all of the emotions you both felt over the years combined into one moment. Both of you accepting this change with each other because that’s what love was.
It was feeling everything all at once but willing for it to consume you. An unstoppable force that left you vulnerable and sometimes wondering if you were deserving, but also proved that you were ready for wherever it took you even if it was unexpected.
And like the sky was a paid actor, it was met with blasts of colors as fireworks went off celebrating the start of what’s to come.
Jisung of course flinched, pulling away from the kiss with an apologetic sorry for ruining what was a perfect scene out of a movie. You laughed, locking your fingers through his hand to stare up into the sky with him. His gaze occasionally falling to you, in pure joy with rose colored cheeks from the cold, something he’d never let go of.
Epilogue:
Francis Forever
Who ever thought that booking a show last minute as a filler band for a canceled performance by some popular band that fans had already bought tickets for would have the domino effect of Oblivion reaching new heights of success.
Not Jisung, but you had always known it was only a matter of time.
Since that show in February, March had become chaotic. Oblivion had regular shows booked back to back, and had even recently just been referred to some guy under Zhong Management, for help to sort out how the rest of Oblivion’s year would go.
There were also an influx of fans, fanpages, fan accounts, fanfics that Jisung definitely made sure to steer clear of considering the fact that he was in a very public relationship that was not hidden from fans in the slightest.
The fans loved you, which Jisung knew they would because who didn’t. They loved the dynamic between the two of you, researching and finding out that you had known each other since childhood which only fueled them to ask more questions about the two of you which Jisung had no problem doing during the last Fans Ask and Answer that you scheduled for each of them.
You took the job as their social media fan club manager very seriously by the way. So when Donghyuck had answered a question asking ‘What are some preshow superstitions you have?’ with ‘I’m not sure about that but we have special rules in place about no funny business before a performance.’ You had quickly ended the online questionnaire, right before running towards Donghyuck at full speed with the first thing you could find on the desk in front of you, a pencil, as your weapon of choice.
Jeno had held you back, because Jisung refused when he had already warned Donghyuck before he clicked post.
Things were going better than ever, even for you who decided to take a break from school after already having completed a two year program.
The only thing left for today was the movie marathon date you and Jisung had planned for tonight, which wasn’t the first you both had since dating, but felt brand new since every other roommate had made plans that left the house empty except for the two of you.
“I don’t understand why people like Jake Sully, he seems a bit conceited.” Jisung muttered from where he sat on the couch, your body resting against his chest as you munched on popcorn, focused on the movie.
“Cause he’s hot.”
He scrunched his nose, “He’s blue.”
You shrug, “It’s an alien thing probably, I always thought Neytiri looked better.”
He frowned at you, pulling a laugh from your lips with how cute he was when he was jealous. “I’m just kidding! Those things are way too tall anyway.”
He sighed, “I don’t wanna watch this anymore.”
You laughed again, setting down the bowl of popcorn and sliding around to wrap your legs around him. He refused to look at you, but you knew he wasn’t really upset with the way his hands found their way around your waist, soothing over your skin. “I’m kidding, no blue alien could compare to the alien right in front of me.”
He let out a snort, finally turning to face you. “As if I was jealous of that guy.”
“Oh yeah i’m sure you weren’t,” you smile, leaning in close to him. His gaze fell to your lips, silently hoping you would lean in closer so he could kiss you. You thought it would be fun to tease him for a little so you stayed there, barely a centimeter apart.
He sighed again knowing exactly what you were doing, choosing to close the distance himself. You never really got used to his kisses, your stomach fluttering anytime the two of your lips connected. You couldn’t help but want more, sliding your tongue through his lips to deepen the kiss. He tasted sweet, more than likely from the candy he’d been eating since the start of the movie.
It wasn’t until you could feel his slight bulge against you that you pulled away, smirking up at him in satisfaction over his disarray, his lips swollen and hair tussled from the quick makeout session.
“We have the house to ourselves,” He broke the silence with a whisper, leaning in close to lessen the gap between you
.“Hmm,” You answered, not even daring to hide your smile when you’ve never felt happier than this moment. “Then let’s make use of that while we can.”
࣪𖤐 the end ── ★ ̟
FINAL NOTES: if you made it until the end I’m hoping you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing! Next up is Jeno’s story so stay tuned for that! also, im wondering just how many of the songs used for every section did you guys know…
summary: when the kissing lesson lowkey gives you a bonerrrrr.. omggg…
cw: reader has curls, cheap ass couch, reader is evidently more experienced than ji, smut — kinda subby!ji, dry humping, reader gets called mommy by accident.., ji cums in his pants. oops!
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the clock read 11:14 at night and jisung’s eyes burnt holes into the ceiling. the broken springs in the couch made his back ache. no matter how hard he tried to get you and your soft, plush lips out of his mind, he couldn’t. and you being laid on top of him only made it that much harder.
after he had valiantly fought over the wall of awkwardness left behind by your kissing lesson, you and jisung had decided to watch a movie; of your choice obviously.
the movie you chose was of absolutely no interest to him. something about two guys frantically trying to get laid before college? gross.
but in requesting this movie, when you nestled between his mandspread legs and laid your head against his chest in efforts to ‘get more comfortable,’ he lost all grounds to complain.
your voice interrupted the low volume dialogue on the tv. “ji?”
he hummed in response.
“you asleep?”
“nope.”
“you enjoying the movie?”
“nope.”
you turned abruptly in shock, “huh??” now face to face with him, “it’s superbad, this is like.. the best movie.”
jisung felt his heart grow warm at the sight of your pout and the corners of his mouth threatened to raise. the gentle light of the tv on your face made you look so real to him. like something different than usual.
“i don’t know,” his purred, just above a whisper as his eyes scanned over your face, “i’m just bored of it, i guess.”
“well, go to bed then. and i’ll just go home.”
jisung immediately sat up straight, almost knocking you off of the couch. “what no!”
your eyes widened slightly at his reaction.
jisung started to ramble, “i mean, like. no, i’m not tired. i just don’t really fuck with superbad. i don’t know.”
you soothed your hand over your ear before laying back down on him, “riiiigghttt. so it’s not that you don’t want me to go home? pretty rude.”
jisung’s chest shook gently under you with laughter. “no, that too, obviously.”
you rolled your eyes before lifting your head once again to rub your ear. the sound of jisung’s heartbeat was somewhat soothing at first but it seemed to have gotten louder in the last couple minutes. your eardrums were crying out.
“jisungie, if you’re not at all entertained by this movie, why is your heart palpitating directly into my ear? you got the hots for mclovin?”
“hm?”
you sat up fully. “nothing. you’re acting weird.”
jisung felt heat rise under the surface of his skin, “whatareyoutalkingabout?”
you squinted at him. “is this because we kissed?”
you were met with silence and a blank stare and immediately curled in on yourself, “aw shit, dude…”
jisung was involuntarily unresponsive as you backed away further — as far as you could without falling off the couch. his lips were moving like he wanted to reassure you so badly but nothing was coming out of him.
“jisung, im sorry, wanted to help, i-i didn’t—
“no, no, don’t freak out,” he reached out to grab one of your arms.
“i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—
jisung grabbed onto your other arm to try and bring you back to him on the couch, “waitt,” he was trying not to laugh. mean ass.
“and then i went and laid on your chest, like.. i feel like a creep.”
jisung finally succeeded in bringing you back to him and wrapped his arms fully around you. he spoke, muffled, into the thickness of your curls,
“you’re not a creep. don’t be dumb.”
limply, you let your chin fall onto his chest.
“i just.. have a lot of thoughts right now. i’m not trying to be awkward.” his hands soothingly rubbed your back and you sighed. “swear.”
unfortunately,, you couldn’t find it in yourself not to interrupt this heartfelt moment. “wow, ji, you’re so.. boyfriend coded, sometimes.” it was now you going to rub his back. but he swiftly jolted away,
“what??!”
“i feel so cared for.” you gazed up at him playfully and his face scrunched up.
“you don’t have to be a boyfriend to care for someone, yknow. what does that even mean.”
jisung’s eyes darted all over the room. the door, the window; as if he was looking for escape routes. probably because if you looked directly into his eyes for long enough, you’d realise how into you he truly is.
you shrugged, “i don’t know. i caught a vibe. or something.”
“you caught a vibe?” the cringe was visible on his face, even in the dimly lit room.
“i was feeling something! i don’t know.”
all he could do was laugh in your face. and when the laughter died down. you remained staring at each other in the silence you left. for what seemed like forever, you stared. you wished you could hear what he was thinking, because the longer you settled in silence, the rosier his cheeks appeared in the dark. cross-legged and facing each other, you felt your bodies leaning.
strangely enough, you didn’t notice the seemingly magnetic pull between you until you felt jisung’s lips against yours.
your body didn’t allow you the time to question what was going on before you could card your fingers through his hair, while his big hands found their way to your waist, dragging upwards so his thumbs could rub at your bare skin.
no different from you, jisung had no idea how he had found himself to get so lucky. but what he did know, was what you taught him.
one of the hands from your waist moved to your jaw and tilted your head slightly. his tongue ran over the expanse of your bottom lip; a silent request that you allow him access. you granted his request and a soft moan rose out of him.
you had pulled away to try and tease him but his hand at the back of your neck pulled you back, just for him to peck your lips,
“you have to use your tongue,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “so that i can copy you.. and know that i’m doing it right…”
your eyelids fluttered at his words before he went it to kiss you once again. you brushed your tongue against his, eliciting another moan from him as his hands squeezed at your sides. you wrapped your arms around his neck and crawled into his lap.
“jisungie, i didn’t think you’d be this vocal. i guess i should have, but i just didn’t.” you breathed out.
jisung passed a weak attempt at laughing your comment off. but his body betrayed him, his hips stuttered upwards into you.
“mmph— shit, i’m sorry. sorry, y/n.” he braced his hand against your thigh, leaning back on the other one and you whined at the friction.
wordlessly, you rocked your hips down over his and he groaned into your neck. his breath was hard against your skin, making you shiver.
“please. keep doing that.” both his hands were now on your hips, “that feels so good.” he whimpered.
you hummed at him and harshly rolled your hips into his once again. you felt your eyes flutter closed and you wondered whether it was from the pleasure or due to the fact that you wanted nothing less than to become sentient at this moment and realise that.. this is kinda fuckin strange. who would have thought a kissing lesson would end up like this? huh.
his lips had since moved down to kiss at your neck, making you keen and throw your head back — a sight that almost knocked jisung clean out.
the fact that this time yesterday, he had never even kissed anyone, but now he had a girl on top of him was triggering some sort of system overload. not that he was some sort of sex pest that was overly well versed in masterbation, but he claimed to know how to hold his own, knew how to ‘prolong the experience.’
that being said, at this moment in time, he didn’t think he had ever felt this sensitive before. it was like he was back to square one. d1 virgin.
“ah— please, please..” jisung breathed into your neck as his hands subconsciously rose up to grope at your chest and he thrusted up into you, “y/n, you feel so good.”
you couldn’t help but laugh, “you’re not even in me yet..”
the indirect promise that, eventually, he would get to fuck you, made his eyes roll back with a groan. just the thought of getting to slide himself into your warmth made heat prickle at the back of his neck. he groaned internally in pure embarrassment over the effect you had on him. he was getting close.
your hand stroked at his face. as much as you were enjoying the show of him writhing and whining under you, you needed to feel his lips on yours again.
“jisung, please kiss me again.”
and he wanted to give you that so badly. he also so badly wanted to not cum in his pants. not that he had any choice in the matter anyway.
“i-i want to.”
your brows furrowed, “ji.. you can. it’s okay.”
jisung groaned loudly, “ughh, fuck, okay. okay, okay, come here.” no point fighting it now.
one of his big hands moved from your breasts and reached up to your neck as he pressed both your lips together in a feverish kiss. desperately whines rose out of the back of his throat with each swipe of his tongue over yours. you had started to grind your hips harder and he swore he was going to die right then.
“ouu, fuckk,” he moved his face back to your neck, “i’m so close, ma- mmph.”
“you’re getting close?”
“m-mommy— fuck, i’m gonna cum.”
your legs involuntarily squeezed around his hips. the more outwardly submissive he got, the more frantic your movements became. like some sort of fucked up chain reaction.
“don’t stop, don’t stop, mommy, please.”
jisung’s breath picked up and you started to breathe heavier when his hips stuttered upwards into yours. his moans became louder and more irregular as he wrapped his arms around your body.
“i’m c-cumming.” he sighed into your chest followed by a lewd string of high pitched moans. his breath was shallow against your bare chest before he dropped his body backwards onto the couch, catching his breath with heavy lidded eyes. you followed, flopping your torso down onto his heaving chest.
you poked his arm, making him twitch, “are you awake.”
“mhm.” ji scrunched his eyes closed. he wished he wasn’t.
“did you call me ‘mommy’ just now?”
“mm.. no.”
your brows knit together, “huh, okay.”
his chest rose and fell in deep breaths under your head.
“park jisung, we have so much to talk about.”
he brought up a hand to massage his temple, “uh huh.” and it settled in that the trajectory of your friendship might just have been changed forever. oh well!
“and you didn’t make me finish, so the pussy eating lesson is next. mkay?”
summary: what happens when you find out that your top spender as a cam girl isn’t some rich old guy, but an awkward boy from your campus?
wc: 20k+
warnings: cam girl activities, usage of sex toys, cursing, loss of virginity, sub!jisung, masturbation (like a lot of it), oral sex (fem.receiving), jisung is his usual introverted self (and only loud during sex), a lot of sexualization and just overall horniness lol. lmk if i missed anything!
a/n: heeey loves! i was absolutely floored with the amount of love that my latest fic got, so here i am with another one for you. this is my first jisung fic so im excited but also nervous bc jisung is one of my biases. idk why it took me so long to write him. but anyways i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. ps; y/n is terrible at recognizing people or remembering names and i’m only putting that here bc it comes out a few times in the fic lol (she’s just like me fr), ALSO, this is loosely inspired by BJ Alex. oh and one last thing, the idea for this fic or at least the characters’ dynamic was inspired by this tweet.
your college days have been, for the most part, unremarkable in the best way. you pulled decent grades, had a solid group of friends, and were generally well-liked.
but despite being somewhat popular, you managed to keep a lot about yourself private.
and by that, you mean the secret life that only a handful of your closest friends knew about.
after all, being a cam girl wasn’t exactly your average college hobby.
you don’t remember how it started, it was likely on a whim born from equal parts boredom and curiosity. at first, you had no idea what you were doing. your streams were awkward, your lighting was bad, and your concept was nonexistent. but after a few months, you found your niche and became kind of a big deal on the platform.
granted, the website you streamed on was pretty obscure. it was the kind of place you could name in public, and nobody would so much as glance your way. still, you made decent money. enough to pay for your first two years of college entirely out of pocket.
you never flaunted it, and most of your friends didn’t care to pry. they only ever joked about it, like they were doing now after you casually mentioned how much you’d earned last month.
“girl, what the hell. maybe i should start camming too,” giselle said, eyes wide as she stared at the number on your screen.
“you say that like it’s a joke, but i’m dead serious,” karina chimed in, striking a dramatic pose in front of the mirror. “i checked my bank account yesterday and almost cried.”
“i mean, i’m not saying you should, but if you need pointers…” you teased, shooting them a wink
“for real though, you’ve gotten so much confidence from this,” giselle pointed out, leaning back against the bed frame.
“oh yeah, nothing boosts your self-esteem like a 60 year old man telling you your ‘princess bits’ are so pretty he busted one in his pants,” you deadpanned, propping your chin on your hand.
“okay, they can’t all be old men,” karina snorted “like can you see their profiles or anything?” she asked, abandoning the mirror and flopping onto the bed beside you.
“not really. just their usernames and how much they’ve spent on my channel.”
“wait, check your top supporter!” giselle said, bouncing a little in excitement.
you scrolled through the dashboard until his username popped up. the moment your friends saw how much he’d spent on you this year, they both let out a loud gasp.
“what in the sugar daddy is this?” karina said, laughing in disbelief. “eighteen thousand dollars? that’s literally my entire tuition!”
“i don’t get the full amount, though. the site takes a cut, then there’s taxes and all that,” you clarified, shrugging.
“still! that’s insane,” giselle said, shaking her head. “honestly, i don’t feel bad about you paying for our sushi nights anymore.”
you laughed, leaning back into your pillows.
“but aren’t you even a little curious about who this…” karina squinted at the screen, “andyp4rk02 is? i need to know everything about this man.”
“i mean, of course i’m curious. but there’s no way to find out,” you said, twirling a strand of hair absentmindedly.
“unless…” giselle said, dragging the word out with a sly grin.
you raised a brow. “unless what?”
“haechan.”
you frowned. “what about him?”
“he could probably hack into this thing,” she said with a casual wave of her hand, as if that wasn’t a completely ridiculous suggestion.
“giselle, he’s a computer science major, not a dark web hacker,” karina said, rolling her eyes.
“okay, but remember when i got locked out of my netflix? he did some tech magic on his computer and got my account back.”
“yeah, because recovering a netflix account is exactly the same as hacking into a cam site,” you said dryly.
“i’m just saying, have you seen his setup? it’s literally something out of a spy movie,” giselle insisted.
karina shrugged. “it wouldn’t hurt to ask him…”
you hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “i don’t know, guys…”
“oh, come on,” karina said, nudging your shoulder. “don’t you want to know who this guy is?”
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
they somehow managed to convince you, which was how you found yourself shivering outside haechan’s dorm, rubbing your arms to keep warm. the air was biting, and as always, haechan wasn’t picking up his phone.
“when he opens this door, i’m kicking him straight in the balls,” you muttered, bouncing on your toes to stave off the cold. giselle was furiously rubbing her hands up and down your arms and karina’s, trying to share what little warmth she had.
“we should’ve called earlier,” karina said through chattering teeth, her lower lip trembling. “he might not even be in.”
giselle huffed dramatically. “okay, this is ridiculous.” she stepped back and cupped her hands around her mouth. “lee haechan, come out right now!” her voice echoed down the street, startling a group of students walking by.
“haechan! get your ass down here!” you joined in, your voice cracking slightly in the cold.
karina gave a small, pitiful laugh. “he lives on the second floor… there’s no way he heard that.”
before she could finish, the door creaked open, revealing one of his roommates. you recognized him immediately but, as usual, couldn’t recall his name. he was younger than you by a year and usually kept to himself whenever you visited.
“uh… hey?” he said, blinking at the sight of the three of you standing there like frostbitten strays. he leaned awkwardly against the doorframe, clearly wondering why three girls were yelling outside their dorm at 9 p.m. on a tuesday.
giselle, ever the charmer, broke into a dazzling smile. “hi! thank you! we’re here for haechan.”
“okay,” he said quietly, still eyeing you all with suspicion. “he’s probably in his room playing league or something.” he stepped aside slowly, letting you in.
“thank you,” you muttered as you walked past, catching the way his gaze immediately dropped to the floor when you made eye contact.
once inside, you didn’t waste any time. storming up to haechan’s door, you knocked violently before pushing it open without waiting for an answer.
“what the hell—” haechan swiveled in his gaming chair, his startled expression melting into a sly grin as soon as he saw you. “hii, girls. to what do i owe the pleasure?” his tone shifted into his mock customer service voice as he leaned back, giving you his most charming smile.
giselle jabbed a finger into his shoulder, making him wince. “were you jerking off, or is your phone shoved up your ass? why didn’t you answer our calls?”
“sorry, i was mid-round, and my phone was on silent,” he said, rubbing his shoulder and smiling sheepishly.
karina folded her arms and sat on the edge of his bed, only to spring back up with a grimace. “ugh, have you even left your room this week?” she asked, glaring at the mountain of empty takeout containers and water bottles scattered across the floor.
“it’s winter break,” haechan said, turning back to his computer and clicking out of the game. “of course i haven’t.”
giselle gestured dramatically at the mess. “you’re one step away from being in a hoarders episode, dude.”
haechan ignored her, spinning in his chair to face you again. “so, what brings such beautiful company to my humble abode?” his eyes lingered on you pointedly.
“he only looked at y/n while saying that. wow.” giselle placed a hand on her chest in mock offense.
“she’s not gonna suck your dick, haechan,” karina said flatly, shaking her head.
“i didn’t even say anything!” he protested, deflating slightly in his chair, his pout almost comical.
“anyway,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “i need a favor.”
haechan perked up immediately. “anything for you,” he said with a wink, which earned an exaggerated gagging noise from karina.
you crossed your arms, leaning against the desk. “okay, first: how’s your hacking game these days?”
“eh… like a seven. why?”
“do you think you could, uh, hack into angel corner?”
his eyebrows shot up. “oh, oh.” he swiveled back to his computer, clearly intrigued. “i mean, i’m not super familiar with their system—it depends on their encryption layers and backend coding. but…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the desk. “it shouldn’t be too hard. why do you want me to hack them, though?”
you fiddled with the hem of your sweater, trying to look as innocent as possible. “just… curious about one of my subscribers.”
giselle chimed in unhelpfully. “her top subscriber.”
haechan spun his chair back around, narrowing his eyes. “and what exactly do you want to know?”
you hesitated, glancing at karina and giselle. the truth was, you hadn’t really thought this through.
“everything,” karina said firmly, her eyes glinting with a kind of mischievous excitement.
haechan smirked, leaning back in his chair. “okay, but what’s in it for me?”
giselle thought for a second and then grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “y/n will sit on your lap while you do your nerdy shit.”
haechan shot out of his chair, clapping his hands. “deal!”
“huh?! i did not agree to this.” you immediately protested.
“c’mooon,” giselle said with a pout. “don’t you want to know?”
haechan patted his lap smugly. “don’t worry, baby. i don’t bite.”
groaning, you finally gave in, muttering curses under your breath as you sat on his lap. he sighed contentedly, spinning back toward his computer. with a few quick clicks, he opened a screen that looked straight out of a movie just as giselle said before. lines of code and strange tabs you didn’t recognize.
“how do you even know how to do this?” you asked, leaning slightly to the side to avoid touching his chest.
“self-taught,” he replied with a shrug.
“great,” you muttered. “i’m trusting a bootleg hacker to invade my subscriber’s privacy. that’s just fantastic.”
“hey, relax,” haechan said, grinning. “you’re in good hands.”
“can we get this over with so i can get off you?” you groaned, shifting uncomfortably on haechan’s lap.
“why? i’m cozy,” he said with a cheeky grin, snuggling into your back. you retaliated with a flick to his forehead.
“ow!” he yelped, immediately rubbing the spot. “i’m so nice to you and all you do is hurt me.”
“you’ll cope. now, what’s this?” you asked, pointing at the maze of numbers and codes flickering across the screen.
“this,” he said, his brows knitting in concentration, “is me trying to break through their firewall… which is a lot more complicated than i thought.”
“well, obviously,” karina chimed in from behind you, inspecting her nails, only half invested in the conversation. “that site probably has CEOs and politicians on it. maybe one of them is your top subscriber, because who else has eighteen thousand dollars to blow on a cam girl?”
“what?!” haechan yelled, whipping around so fast you nearly fell off his lap. “eighteen thousand?!”
“that was my ear,” you muttered, steadying yourself.
he cleared his throat dramatically, but his ears flushed pink. “right, sorry. anyway—oh, wait, i’m in!”
“wait, really?!” you leaned forward in excitement, your hands clutching the edge of his desk. “oh my god, that’s so cool, i could kiss you right now!”
“please do,” haechan replied, staring at you with wide, hopeful eyes.
“be a man,” karina said, smacking him on the back of his head as she moved closer.
“okay, so… bad news or good news first?” haechan asked, his smug grin returning as he reclined slightly in his chair.
“just rip the band-aid off,” you said, crossing your arms. “what’s the bad news?”
“your top spender is smart. like, annoyingly smart. the only personal info he filled out was his gender, and for his name he used a zelda character.”
“what a virgin,” he added with a laugh.
“look who’s talking,” giselle shot back.
“hey, i’m not the one spending thousands on a cam girl who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole,” haechan retorted, his tone defensive. “and for the record, i do get some action, thank you very much.”
“sure you do,” karina muttered, rolling her eyes. “anyway, what’s the good news?”
haechan grinned like a cat who’d caught a particularly juicy mouse. “i can get his IP address.”
“wait, for real? what are you waiting for?” giselle leaned in, her eyes darting to the screen.
“hold on.” you hesitated, guilt prickling at the edges of your excitement. “isn’t this… a bit much? like, it feels illegal.”
giselle waved a hand dismissively. “please. we’ve come this far… we can’t leave with just this. we already knew he was a guy. only a man would be that desperate.”
“and besides,” karina added, “you’ve been sitting on this nerd’s lap for twenty minutes. make it worth something.”
“touché,” giselle said, nodding. “by the way, you can get up now.”
“yeah, but…” you paused, shifting slightly. “he was right—his lap is cozy.”
“told ya,” haechan said smugly, shooting you a wink. “so, should i pull up his IP or what?”
you sighed covering your face with your hands, hoping it would make the shame and ethical gray area feel a little less overwhelming “ugh. fine. just do it.”
haechan’s fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of taps and clicks as lines of code scrolled rapidly across the screen. within three minutes, he sat back triumphantly.
“got it,” he said. but then his smile faltered, his brows knitting together in confusion. “wait… that can’t be right.”
“what?” you dropped your hands and leaned forward. “what’s wrong?”
karina’s eyes widened as she stared at the screen. “isn’t that…?”
giselle’s voice was barely above a whisper. “isn’t that this dorm?”
you all stared at the address blinking on the screen. it was the exact building you were sitting in.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
“you’ve all been staring at me for the past three minutes, and i’m feeling very threatened right now,” haechan said, his voice trembling.
the three of you stood in front of him, arms crossed and glares locked onto his soul.
“well, we just think it’s way too much of a freaky coincidence that her top spender just so happens to live here,” giselle said, her tone accusatory. “care to explain?”
“wait, wait, wait,” haechan stammered, his hands flying up in surrender. “you’re not seriously implying i’m the top spender, right? cause that’s just—” he laughed nervously, “—ridiculous!”
“oh, is it?” karina quipped, raising a perfectly arched brow. “you’re always flirting with y/n and acting like a simp. what’s a few thousand dollars for your ‘queen’?”
“oh, come on!” haechan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “i’m naturally a flirty guy. that’s my thing! and where do you guys think i’d even get that kind of money?”
he gestured around the room to back up his claim. the pile of ramen cups and the stack of free campus hoodies spoke louder than he ever could.
“besides,” he added, dropping his arms, “i’m not even subscribed to her channel. i admit i checked it out a few times after y/n told me about it, but i promise i’m not a weirdo or anything. you’re my best friend, y/n.”
his voice softened at the end, and you felt yourself relaxing slightly. haechan might be a flirt, a tease, and a relentless pain in the ass, but he wasn’t the kind of person to keep something like this hidden from you.
“he’s telling the truth, you guys,” you said finally, breaking the tension.
karina tilted her head, sizing him up. “yeah, i didn’t think a bum like him would drop that much money on you anyway.” she scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “he asked me for five dollars the other day… by the way, give me back my money.”
“dude, it was five bucks! let it go,”
“let it go?” karina shot back. “i could’ve gotten a latte with that!”
“okay, okay,” giselle cut in, waving her hands to calm them down. “if it’s not haechan, who else could it be? is there anyone in this dorm who’s… obsessed with you?”
you blinked, thinking hard. “not that i know of. i mean, i don’t really talk to anyone here except for haechan.”
“how many guys live here?” giselle asked, turning to haechan.
“including me? 5,” he said, counting on his fingers. “but i’m pretty sure jeno has a girlfriend... so that leaves mark, jaemin, and jisung.”
“since when has having a girlfriend ever stopped a man from doing something shady?” karina deadpanned, crossing her arms.
“true,” haechan admitted with a shrug, “but let’s be real, girls… all of them are full-time students barely scraping by with part-time jobs. i doubt any of them have that kind of cash to drop freely.”
“you never know,” giselle chimed in. “isn’t mark’s brother the dealer on campus? maybe he borrowed some money.”
karina snorted. “you’re forgetting mark is practically a saint. the guy’s too religious and too much of a goody two-shoes to even think about something like that.”
“okay, what about jaemin?” giselle countered. “he’s always wearing designer stuff. what if he’s secretly loaded?”
karina gave her an incredulous look. “have you seen jaemin? he’s got a different girl drooling over his shoulder every other day. i don’t think he needs to subscribe to a cam girl to satisfy himself and i’m sure all those were gifts from desperate girls”
“then that leaves jisung,” you said slowly, the name clicking into place. “wait… isn’t he the one who let us in earlier? the freshman?”
karina nodded. “oh right, the tall awkward kid. that would explain why he couldn’t even look at you.”
“wait, jisung?” haechan burst out laughing. “no way. the kid’s barely in his twenties! you’re telling me he somehow scraped together eighteen thousand dollars to spend on y/n?”
“well, he does live in this building so that makes him a suspect…” giselle reasoned, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
“ugh, this is getting too weird,” you muttered, pacing the small room. “are we really saying jisung might be the guy?”
“i mean, you never know,” karina said with a smirk. “quiet ones are always full of surprises.”
haechan groaned, flopping back into his chair. “this is turning into a bad episode of CSI”
“if he’s the top spender, that means he has a thing for y/n,” giselle said, grinning. “we should just ask him directly.”
“absolutely not,” you said quickly, your face heating up.
“why not?” karina teased. “we’re already halfway to solving this mystery. might as well get the confession.”
“no, i think this has already gotten out of control… you guys are too caught up on finding who it is but personally i don’t care that much, i’m fine with not knowing”
“really, even after finding out he’s living in this very dorm?” karina asked walking up to you.
“yeah. i don’t care.” you were lying and they could probably tell by your face but, surprisingly, they didn’t press you.
“okay, fine. let’s go home.”
“i think we should have a sleepover. what do you think, girls?” haechan said and you responded by throwing a pillow at him as you exited the room.
“damn, not even a thank you.” he said, rubbing his head.
you sprinted back into the room and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “thank you!” you said sweetly.
“and clean your room, it stinks!” you yelled from the hallway.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
winter break had ended, and after coming back from visiting your family, you’d mostly forgotten about the fact that your top spender lived in one of your best friend’s dorms.
but your dismissive attitude disappeared as soon as the new term started.
suddenly, you were hyper-aware of every one of haechan’s roommates. even the ones you’d previously ruled out. like, why was jeno suddenly smiling at you from across the dining hall? and was that… a smirk you saw on mark’s face as you walked by? certainly not—you had to be imagining things. you were just being extremely paranoid.
“hey, gorg!!!” giselle greeted you with extra enthusiasm, practically bouncing into the room.
“you’re happy today,” karina observed, raising an eyebrow.
“i am! i really think i cracked this case, y’all.”
you sighed, already bracing yourself. “enlighten us,” you said flatly.
karina rolled her eyes. “you do know no one cares anymore, right?”
giselle ignored her and continued. “by the way, how were you guys’ breaks?” she asked casually before immediately cutting herself off. “never mind, we’ll get to that later. listen, i was in line for food earlier, and guess who i saw?”
when neither of you spoke, she dramatically continued, “jaemin.”
“fork found in kitchen. of course he’d be at the cafeteria during lunch,” you said, unimpressed.
“no, but listen! i said hi to him, and he flinched so hard he nearly dropped his phone. then he tried to hide it.”
“maybe somebody sent him nudes or something,” karina said, shrugging.
giselle shook her head, leaning in conspiratorially. “no, but catch this… he asked if i was here alone, and when i pointed at you”—she turned to you with a wide grin—“he blushed furiously.”
you tsked, slumping back in your chair. “that still proves nothing.”
“okay, but isn’t it suspicious?” giselle pressed. “why would he blush that hard just because i mentioned you?”
“because he’s a human being with a working circulatory system?” you shot back.
karina snorted. “for real. giselle, you’re acting like you just uncovered a government conspiracy.”
“you guys are just blind,” giselle huffed, crossing her arms. “mark my words… it’s him. jaemin’s the one.”
“even if it was him, what am i supposed to do with that information? march up to him and say, ‘hey, thanks for the eighteen grand’?”
“you should,” karina said with a smirk. “at least get him to buy you lunch.”
giselle sighed dramatically, feeling like she was surrounded by fools. “fine. don’t believe me. but when this all comes out, just remember i called it first.”
“boo!”
haechan’s voice was directly in your ear, and you jumped so hard you nearly spilled your coffee all over yourself.
“what the hell! i almost ruined my new skirt,” you snapped, quickly checking to make sure no drops had actually landed on the fabric.
“did you buy that with jaemin’s allowance?” he teased, a grin stretching across his face.
you responded by flipping him off, which only made him laugh as he slid into the seat next to you.
“you heard everything?” karina asked, giving him an unimpressed look.
“hard not to,” he replied casually. “in case you didn’t know, gi, your discreet voice is about as discreet as a foghorn.”
giselle rolled her eyes. “thanks for the input, hacker boy.”
“i’ve already said to drop the topic,” you cut in, frustrated. “what if one of them hears? and! you guys are being so obvious about it… don’t think i haven’t noticed the pointed stares you keep giving to every guy from the dorm. i’m sure they’ve noticed, too.”
“we’re just trying to help,” giselle said, stabbing at her salad with unnecessary force.
“and i do appreciate it,” you replied, though your tight smile probably said otherwise, “but i’d appreciate it even more if we all just moved on.”
your tone made it clear that the discussion was over, and the table fell into an awkward silence.
you felt a little bad about shutting them down so abruptly, but the truth was, you didn’t want them to figure out who your top spender was. not because you cared about protecting his identity, exactly… but because you feared that, in the process, they’d also find out the full truth:
you’d already interacted with him before.
not just casually, either. your top spender had paid for private sessions. more than once.
you still didn’t know what he looked like since he’d never turned on his camera but you could probably recognize his voice. a voice that, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, had been replaying in your head ever since that night you found out he was likely a student in this university. a deep voice that had a habit of making your heart race despite your best efforts to stay professional.
“i know you said to drop it, but is it just me or does hae’s nerdy friend keep looking this way every few seconds?” karina asked, nodding subtly toward a table a few feet away.
you turned your head, catching a glimpse of jisung sitting by himself, fiddling with his phone. “maybe he wants to sit with us,” you shrugged. “call him over, hae.”
“yo, jisung!” haechan called, raising a hand to wave the taller boy over.
jisung froze in place, his eyes widening briefly before he hastily shoved on his headphones and scurried away like a startled deer.
you frowned, puzzled. “what was that about?”
“that was so weird,” giselle snorted, biting back a laugh.
“ah, he’s just awkward like that,” haechan said with a casual wave of his hand. “probably saw me sitting with gorgeous girls” he locked eyes with you as he said this “and got scared.”
“anyways,” you rolled your eyes, but the slight twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed your amusement. “i have to go.”
“part-time obligations?” karina asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly.
“possibly,” you shrugged nonchalantly as you got up.
“can i come?” haechan asked.
you rolled your eyes at haechan’s hopeful grin as he stood up. “you wish,” you said, pushing him back into his seat before grabbing your bag and heading out.
your destination wasn’t your dorm or the library. instead, you made your way to the small studio you rented off-campus, tucked far enough away to avoid suspicion.
the studio was modest, just big enough to fit a bed, a desk, a small bathroom, and your filming setup. the air smelled faintly of vanilla, thanks to the diffuser you kept running to set the mood. locking the door behind you, you exhaled deeply and began preparing for the night.
the routine was familiar, almost comforting. you hopped into the shower, letting the warm water relax your muscles as you mentally ran through the checklist. after drying off, you slipped into your costume for the night—a delicate white lace dress with baby blue accents that hugged your body in all the right places.
at the vanity, you carefully applied your makeup, adding just enough to transform yourself into collette, your cam girl persona and paired with a small mask that covered your eyes and half of your nose. the wig was the final touch, a wavy style that framed your face perfectly, making you almost unrecognizable from your day-to-day self.
“let’s see,” you adjusted the camera angle to capture the bed and the soft glow of the fairy lights behind it.
you glanced at the table beside the bed, where the new toys you’d promised to showcase were neatly arranged. taking one last look in the mirror, you marveled at how different you looked.
“all right,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your reflection one last time. “let’s get this show started.”
you hit start on your stream, and the chat immediately flooded with messages, emojis, and tips.
“hi, guys!” you greeted, your voice shifting into a higher, sweeter tone. “missed you all so much during the break.”
the messages came in rapid-fire:
“omg collette’s back!”
“you look stunning as always.”
“been waiting for this for weeks!”
you giggled, leaning closer to the camera so that your cleavage filled the frame. “you’re all too sweet. did you miss me that much?”
the chat practically exploded with affirmations, and the pings of tips coming in made you smile wider.
“i see you guys like the new outfit,” you teased, slowly standing to give them a full view of your legs, moisturized and shimmering under the warm light. “but i didn’t just dress up for no reason. i have a surprise for you tonight.”
you reached for the toys on the desk, holding one up for the camera. “look what i got during the break,” you said, biting your lip playfully. “i thought you’d want to help me break them in.”
the tips surged as viewers expressed their excitement, but one notification caught your eye. andyp4rk02 has tipped $100.
you grinned, recognizing the username instantly. “hi, andy,” you said, your tone dropping to something more intimate. “you’re late today. i thought you’d ditched me for someone else.”
a new ping followed, this time $50, accompanied by a highlighted message: “sorry ;) private livestream later to make it up to you?”
you laughed softly, leaning back on the bed. “hmm,” you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “i think i can squeeze you in on my busy schedule.” with a wink, you moved to grab one of the toys, careful not to linger too long on a single viewer.
“shall we begin?” you asked, spreading your legs slightly to reveal that you were wearing nothing underneath the flimsy lace dress.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
on the other side of the screen, jisung sat in his dimly lit dorm, his face illuminated only by the glow of his computer. he’d barely made it back in time, his breath still heavy from the sprint across campus. it didn’t help that the second he clicked into your livestream, you were already spread out on the bed, teasing the camera with that perfect smile.
he adjusted his glasses nervously, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. his heart was racing, but not from the run. no, it was from you. when you spread your legs, his breath hitched, and he felt his stomach tighten.
“you’re late today,” you’d said, and jisung shivered. god, it was like you were talking directly to him. well, you technically were, but still.
almost as if on autopilot, he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down. his fingers wrapped around himself, and he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the screen.
the angle of the camera was perfect. from his perspective, it was easy to imagine that it wasn’t the pink dildo but his own dick sliding in and out of you.
“fuck,” he whispered under his breath as you slid the dildo inside yourself, your lips parting in a perfect "o" shape as you let out a soft moan.
“feels so good,” you breathed into the camera, your lashes fluttering. “can you make me feel good, too?”
“yes,” jisung groaned, his voice shaky as he gripped himself tighter. “god, yes.”
your moans grew louder, your body arching in a way that made his pulse skyrocket. his brows furrowed, and he bit down on his lip, trying to keep quiet so none of his roommates would hear.
you tilted your head back, the camera catching the curve of your neck and the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. “don’t stop,” you whimpered.
as your voice came through his headphones, sultry and sweet, he muttered to himself, “so perfect. so perfect it’s insane.”
his hand moved faster, his mind filled with nothing but the image of you—so close, yet so untouchable.
he leaned closer, his breath fogging the screen for a moment. “god… i can make you feel so much better than that piece of plastic,” he muttered, his tone almost resentful.
“you don’t even know what i’d do to you,” he whispered
in a minute, jisung came hard, his entire body jerking as his cum shot up and splattered directly onto his keyboard and monitor. he barely registered the mess he made until he heard the faint crackle of his PC struggling under the assault.
“no, no, no—fuck!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he scrambled to wipe the pc with the sleeve of his hoodie.
it was too late. the screen flickered, the image of you mid-moan freezing for a few painful seconds before the whole system shorted out with a pathetic wheeze and went black. jisung sat there in stunned silence for a moment, his hand still clutching the stained hoodie sleeve.
“shit…” he muttered, not out of concern for his destroyed PC but because he was now going to miss the rest of your live.
this wasn’t the first time this happened. clearly, his setup was already on its last legs from similar incidents but it still sent a wave of frustration through him.
he slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his damp hair. “guess i’ll just have to catch the replay,” he mumbled, though the thought didn’t satisfy him nearly as much.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
the first day of the semester loomed the next morning. you had promised yourself this was the year you’d start fresh. on time to every class, taking meticulous notes, and becoming the academic weapon you’d always meant to be.
of course, none of that happened.
you didn’t hear your alarm because you’d been up until 3 a.m. doing private livestreams for your top subscribers. normally, private sessions didn’t last more than 20 minutes, but andy had an uncanny way of distracting you with his playful, teasing messages, keeping you hooked well past the scheduled time.
you ran into your first class fifteen minutes late, panting slightly and trying not to look as frazzled as you felt. the professor shot you a disapproving look, but a quick apologetic smile from you had him stammering and waving you off. men are so simple, you thought smugly.
after quickly scanning the room, you noticed all the front-row seats were taken which left you with no choice but to settle near the back. you sighed and headed to an open seat in the second-to-last row, cursing your luck.
on your right sat some frat guy you vaguely recognized from the same house as karina’s boyfriend. his name escaped you, but since he was already asleep with his mouth hanging open, you didn’t bother introducing yourself.
on your left, the person was less immediately recognizable. he was hunched over, hoodie drawn tight around his face, typing furiously on his laptop. his long, slender fingers flew across the keyboard with precision, but he didn’t seem remotely aware of your presence.
you cleared your throat softly, hoping to get his attention. nothing.
you tried again, slightly louder this time, but his focus didn’t waver. finally, you tapped his shoulder lightly.
“excuse me, did i miss anything important?”
his fingers froze mid-typing, but he still didn’t look at you. instead, he tilted his laptop slightly in your direction, revealing a neatly formatted list of bullet points. most likely corrections to the syllabus the professor went over at the start of class.
“oh,” you said, caught off guard. “can i take a pic of that?”
he gave a small nod, still not meeting your eyes.
you quickly snapped a photo and smiled. “thank you so much,” you said, your tone warm as you instinctively squeezed his forearm in gratitude.
you felt his entire body stiffen under your touch, his arm tense as if you’d zapped him.
“mhm…” he finally muttered, his voice low and rough from disuse.
you glanced at him again, catching a glimpse of his side profile as he adjusted his hoodie. sharp jawline, glasses slightly askew, and lips pressed into a thin line as he quickly returned his focus to his laptop.
you tilted your head slightly, curiosity piqued. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.
“well, thanks again,” you said softly, giving him one last smile before turning back to face the professor.
behind his laptop, jisung exhaled shakily, the spot where you’d touched him burning.
jisung knew you were one of haechan’s friends. he’d watched you walk in and out of the dorm more times than he cared to admit. you were always laughing, tossing your hair over your shoulder in a way that made jisung’s eyes land on you unavoidably.
normally, he wouldn’t even glance twice at the girls his roommates brought around. they were all the same: loud, shallow, and obsessed with their reflection in any shiny surface.
but you weren’t like them.
he’d noticed it the first time you came over. how your voice was softer, more melodic, how you smelled like warm vanilla instead of the overpowering floral perfumes he hated. he remembered catching a glimpse of you bending down to grab something off the floor and how his gaze lingered too long on the curve of your legs before he snapped his head away.
since then, it had only gotten worse. it annoyed him that his brain seemed to remember every little detail about you. the way your lips always looked plump and shiny, as if you’d just licked them. how your laugh was this low, throaty sound that made his chest feel tight.
it was frustrating, how easily you wormed your way into his thoughts.
and now, here you were, sitting next to him. jisung felt trapped, his senses overwhelmed by your closeness. the faint rustle of your skirt, the way your knee accidentally grazed his thigh, the soft, almost unintentional hum you made as you shifted in your seat.
he knew it was all normal, just small, insignificant things. but to him, it felt like you were doing it on purpose. when you tapped his shoulder, jisung’s heart practically jumped out of his chest. his first thought was how warm your hand was.
his second thought was how unfair it was that you could touch him so casually.
“did i miss anything important?” you asked, your voice sweet, your smile even sweeter.
jisung didn’t respond right away. he was too busy trying not to look at the way your lips curved when you spoke. he knew if he opened his mouth, something embarrassing would come out. so instead, he tilted his laptop screen toward you, his fingers twitching against the keyboard. you asked if you could take a picture, and normally he didn’t like sharing his notes but he nodded before he could even stop himself.
“thank you so much,” you said, your voice dripping with warmth. and then, as if to kill him on the spot, you squeezed his forearm lightly.
jisung felt like static electricity was zipping through his body. his skin tingled where you touched him, and he stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge how his breath hitched.
she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. so damn oblivious.
when you crossed your legs, jisung’s eyes flickered downward before he could stop himself. he caught the briefest glimpse of skin, the hem of your skirt riding up just enough to reveal more of your thigh, and his face flushed.
stop it, he scolded himself, tearing his gaze away.
but he couldn’t help it. he hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop the way his imagination spiraled. he wondered what it would feel like if you touched him for more than a second. if your fingers lingered. if you looked at him the way you looked at your stupid phone.
his hands curled into fists under the desk, nails digging into his palms. he shifted uncomfortably, trying to will his body into behaving, but your proximity was making it impossible to think straight.
when the professor announced that these would be your assigned seats for the semester, jisung nearly groaned out loud. six months. six months of sitting next to you, of your bare legs grazing his, of your infuriatingly sweet perfume clouding his brain.
how am i supposed to survive this?
jisung clenched his jaw, his gaze flicking to the faint sparkle of lotion on your legs again.
she probably doesn’t even know how many guys in this room would kill to sit where i’m sitting right now, he thought, biting the inside of his cheek.
and yet, despite everything, jisung couldn’t help but feel a sick sort of satisfaction at being this close to you. like he was privy to something no one else was.
and as messed up as it was, he liked that you didn’t know. that you had no idea how much space you took up in his mind.
he glanced sideways at you again, the corner of his lip twitching as you absentmindedly adjusted your skirt.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
jisung bought a new pc, but it wouldn’t be delivered until the end of the week due to delays in the post office. he hated waiting. the old one had been perfect for watching your livestreams but now he was stuck with his laptop. the smaller screen didn’t do you justice. everything felt cramped and wrong, your image reduced to something far too small and impersonal. it frustrated him to no end.
so, in his growing desperation, jisung resorted to something he swore he wouldn’t do: borrowing haechan’s pc. at first, he only asked when he knew haechan would be out for hours, spinning some lie about needing to work on assignments that required a better setup for coding. surprisingly, haechan didn’t question him. he barely seemed to care, too busy running off to hang out with you and your group of friends. lately, you all seemed closer than ever, constantly whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.
not that jisung cared, of course.
but ever since you’d started sitting next to him in class, he couldn’t help but notice you even more. the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs every six or seven minutes or tapped your temple when the professor talked about a complicated topic. he hated that he was paying attention to things he usually wouldn’t. it was a complete waste of time.
today, jisung was forcing himself to focus. he had an essay due tomorrow, and he’d been putting it off for way too long, distracted by you (clearly) and everything Collette— streams, photos, even the grainy replays he managed to dig up online. last night was supposed to be productive, but instead, he’d spent hours rewatching one of the camgirl’s older private streams. by the time he passed out, his laptop was dangerously close to falling off his bed, his boxers halfway down his legs, and his dick sore after a night of relentless jerking off.
he made his way to the library, determined to lock himself in one of the private study rooms and finally finish his work. he needed to focus. no distractions, no excuses.
but when he opened the door to the room he’d booked, all of his resolve shattered.
you were there.
your books and laptop scattered across the table, and you were leaning over, reaching for something just out of your grasp. jisung froze in the doorway, his breath catching as his eyes landed on you. or, more specifically, the strip of black lace peeking out from under your skirt.
he knew he should look away. but his body didn’t seem to get the memo. instead, his eyes remained fixed on the sight, his chest tightening as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room.
his fingers twitched at his side, gripping the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white. why are you wearing that? he thought, the question racing through his mind before he could stop it. are you wearing it for someone?
you shifted slightly, turning your head as if you sensed someone behind you, and that was enough to snap him out of his trance.
“uh—sorry,” jisung croaked, his voice cracking embarrassingly. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “i—uh—this is... my room. i mean, the room i booked.”
you turned fully to him, startled at first, but then your expression softened into a smile when you realized it was him.
“oh, jisung!” you said brightly, smoothing down your skirt. “i didn’t realize this room was taken. sorry, i’ve just been so distracted, i guess i wasn’t paying attention.”
he forced himself to meet your eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. you recognized him now. during the first week of the semester, you’d seemed to be trying to place him in your mind, but he figured you finally connected the dots and realized he was haechan’s roommate after all.
“it’s... fine,” he muttered, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. the sound echoed louder than it should have, making him wince. “i didn’t know anyone would be here.”
“well, i can leave if you want,” you offered, gesturing toward your scattered books and notes. “but if you don’t mind sharing, i really need to finish studying for a test tomorrow.”
jisung hesitated, his mind racing. on one hand, the idea of sharing a small, enclosed space with you was borderline terrifying. but on the other hand, the thought of you leaving made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t like to think too hard about.
“no need,” he mumbled, setting his bag down at the far end of the table. “you can stay.”
you beamed at him, and he felt a weird mix of pride and dread settle in his chest.
“thanks! you’re a lifesaver.”
you turned back to your laptop, leaving him to settle into his seat. jisung tried his best to focus on his essay, but his eyes kept drifting to you: the way you twirled your pen between your fingers, the way your lips pursed as you concentrated, the way your skirt kept riding up with every slight movement.
he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his gaze back to his screen. his essay wasn’t going to write itself, and the sooner he finished, the sooner he could escape this.
but as jisung stared blankly at the screen, the words refused to come to him. his mind was too fogged up, the image of your black lace panties flashing at him. he could still feel the phantom heat pooling uncomfortably low in his stomach.
he adjusted his glasses for the tenth time in five minutes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. he needed to concentrate, needed to shove every inappropriate thought out of his head and focus on the stupid essay that was due in less than twelve hours.
but every tap of your pen, every soft sigh as you read your notes pulled his attention like a magnet. he could feel his skin prickling under the weight of his own thoughts, and it was starting to make him nauseous.
you shifted in your chair, crossing one leg over the other, and jisung caught a glimpse of your bare thighs again. he wondered how soft they’d feel under his fingers. he clenched his jaw, staring harder at the blinking cursor on his laptop. just focus. just write.
“hey,” you said suddenly, your voice soft but startling in the quiet room. jisung’s head snapped up so fast his glasses slipped down his nose.
“yeah?” he croaked, his voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. he cleared his throat and tried again. “what’s up?”
you held up a book. “do you know anything about this? it’s for my history class, but i’m kind of lost on what the professor’s looking for.”
jisung blinked at the book, trying to register the title through the haze clouding his brain. the sight of your manicured fingers gripping the edge of the hardcover didn’t help his focus.
“uh… yeah, i think so,” he mumbled, his words fumbling over themselves. “i took that class last semester. what’s the assignment?”
you slid your chair closer to his, flipping the book open to a highlighted section. jisung stiffened as you leaned in, your shoulder brushing against his.
he could smell your perfume better now. it made his head swim, and his palms sweat.
“here,” you said, pointing to a passage. “i’m supposed to write an analysis on this, but honestly, it’s not making any sense to me.”
jisung forced himself to look at the page, his eyes skimming over the text even though he couldn’t process a single word. your proximity was unbearable, and the way you tilted your head to look at him made him hyper-aware of every inch of space between you.
“um,” he started, his voice cracking again. “it’s… about, uh, symbolism, i think. like how they use imagery to—”
his words faltered as your leg shifted, pressing briefly against his under the table.
“oh, i get it now!” you said, your eyes lighting up as you turned back to the book. “thanks, jisung, you’re really helpful.”
he swallowed hard, nodding stiffly as you returned to your side of the table. his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his laptop, trying desperately to block out the lingering warmth of your touch.
as the first hour dragged on, jisung realized he’d barely touched his essay. instead, he found himself cataloging every little thing you did, learning more about your quirks and mannerisms than the topic he was supposed to be researching.
he noticed the way you squinted slightly when reading something closely. do you need glasses? the thought struck him out of nowhere, and the idea of you wearing a pair made his throat tighten and his dick stir to life.
you only seemed to use blue highlighters and matching blue post-it notes. the monochrome dedication was oddly satisfying to watch. jisung noticed you had a habit of twirling the highlighter between your fingers when you were deep in thought, the motion almost hypnotic.
when you weren’t sipping on your drink or snacking on something you’d fidget endlessly, picking up your phone, or tapping your nails on the table in an uneven rhythm. once, you opened an app but closed it just as quickly, as if scolding yourself for getting distracted. jisung smirked at that.
he noticed the way you pouted while typing, your lips forming a subtle, natural curve. every time you got stuck on something, you’d grab a blank page from your notebook and start scribbling aimlessly sometimes doodling stars or flowers in the margins, other times writing the same word over and over like you were trying to etch it into your brain.
you also had a habit of adjusting your necklace every few minutes, fiddling with the pendant as if grounding yourself. jisung wondered if it had some kind of sentimental value.
and then there was the small gasp you let out every time you found a passage you liked, quickly followed by you underlining it with almost comical precision. jisung thought it was cute, though he tried to push that thought away.
by the time the second hour rolled around, he was practically vibrating with tension. not just from the overwhelming presence of you, but from his own failure to accomplish anything.
you sighed softly and closed your laptop, stretching in your seat with a lazy grace that made his stomach flip. the movement caused your shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin and a tiny birthmark just above your hip bone.
jisung’s eyes widened. it was a small, and it was a flushed, pinkish hue, vaguely resembling the shape of a flower petal—or maybe a heart if he squinted.
why does that look so familiar?
he frowned, his brain scrambling to piece together the connection. it snagged at him, like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. had he seen it on you before? no, that didn’t make sense.
and then it hit him.
his heart stuttered as he remembered one of the streams he’d watched not long ago… collette’s stream. she’d been wearing lingerie that night, black with sheer panels, and at one point, she’d adjusted the waistband, revealing a glimpse of a tiny birthmark right above the hip.
holy shit.
jisung’s face burned as he realized the truth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. he couldn’t believe it. the girl he’d been obsessing over online, the one he’d jerked off to more times than he could count, was sitting right next to him.
he stumbled out of his seat, movements clumsy and frantic as he fumbled to gather his things. his hands trembled slightly as he zipped his backpack and he mumbled some half-formed excuse about having plans with haechan. the words tumbled out so quickly they were barely coherent. before you could even process what he was saying, let alone respond, he was already at the door, practically tripping over himself in his rush to leave.
“what an odd kid,” you giggled to yourself, shaking your head at his bizarre behavior.
he was strange, sure, but undeniably cute in his awkwardness. you’d always had a soft spot for guys who didn’t know what to do with themselves, and jisung was no exception. there was something endearing about the way he seemed perpetually out of place, like he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. but beneath the oversized hoodies and baggy sweatpants, you could tell he was hiding something.
he had broad shoulders that stretched the fabric of his clothes in a way that made you want to see more, and you still hadn’t forgotten the time he’d stripped off his hoodie on that unbearably hot day. the hem of his shirt had lifted with it, giving you the briefest glimpse of his waist, narrow and impossibly toned. you’d been thinking about that moment more often than you’d like to admit.
sitting next to him in class had only amplified things. you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted toward you every few minutes, his gaze lingering on your legs before he quickly looked away, as if he thought you wouldn’t notice. that’s exactly why you made it a point to only wear skirts to that class; short ones, ones that made it impossible for him not to look. it was a game, one you were starting to enjoy far too much.
you liked his hands too. he had large hands with long, slender fingers that flew clumsily over the keys of his laptop. you caught yourself staring at them during class, imagining how they’d feel against your skin, the way they’d grip your waist or tangle in your hair. you wondered if they were soft or if they’d leave a pleasant roughness behind.
his glasses added to the appeal, big-framed and slightly crooked on his nose. they couldn’t hide his soft, pretty eyes, though, or the moles scattered across his pale skin. every detail about him seemed perfectly crafted to make him irresistible in the most unassuming way.
but then there was the question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind, the one you couldn’t seem to shake: was jisung really your top spender? your friends had been so sure, pointing out all the coincidences, and you couldn’t deny that it was starting to feel like too much to ignore.
you smiled to yourself at the thought, unable to help the way your lips curled into something slightly wicked. haechan had mentioned how much time jisung spent in his room, his activities hardly a secret if you listened to the muffled sounds that occasionally slipped through the walls.
the idea made your pulse quicken, a thrill running down your spine as you considered how to take things to the next level. if jisung was your top spender then he was already yours in ways he probably didn’t even realize.
you toyed with the idea of making the first move, testing the waters to see just how far you could push him. he was skittish, easily flustered, and you had no doubt that one well-placed touch or whispered word would send him into a complete meltdown.
you suspected that if you really went for it, jisung might just have a heart attack on the spot. and for some reason, that thought only made you want to do it more.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
the next time you met him in class, you decided it was time to confirm once and for all if he was into you. you dressed for the occasion, a skirt that showed just enough leg to make him squirm, paired with a low-cut top and your favorite push-up bra, the one that made your boobs look perfect. you threw on a sweater for good measure, unzipping it casually when you sat next to him, just enough to reveal the curve of your collarbones and the top of your cleavage.
“hey, jisung!” you said, your voice soft and lilting.
he barely looked at you, his lips moving in what you assumed was a greeting, but it was so quiet you couldn’t make out the words. he didn’t hold your gaze for more than a second, and from the way he kept staring at his laptop, you wondered if he’d even noticed the effort you put into your outfit.
you leaned in slightly, catching the faint scent of his detergent mixed with something musky. “sungie?” you whispered, your voice low and sweet.
his jaw clenched at the nickname, and his hands froze over his laptop keys. “hm?” he finally managed, his eyes flickering up to your face for the briefest of moments before darting away again.
“do you want to work on the project together?” you asked, tilting your head innocently.
his brows furrowed as he blinked at you, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and panic. “what… what project?” he stammered, his voice shaky, his breath audibly hitching when his gaze unintentionally dropped to your chest.
“the one he just announced,” you said, nodding toward the screen where the professor had outlined the details of the group assignment.
you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed with a nervous swallow, and he peeled his eyes away from you with visible effort. “oh… uh…” he trailed off, biting his lip. the gesture drew your attention to just how plush and soft they looked.
“if you don’t want to, it’s okay,” you said, leaning back slightly, your pout deliberate and perfectly executed. “i just thought since you helped me with my assignment last time, you’d be a good partner.”
he glanced at you again, his gaze lingering this time, as if trying to gauge your expression. your wide, hopeful eyes seemed to make his decision for him. “okay…” he mumbled, the word barely audible.
“really? yay!” you said, your voice bright with excitement as you reached out and wrapped your hands around his arm in a playful squeeze. the movement was quick, but enough for your chest to press lightly against him, the warmth of your body radiating through his hoodie.
jisung stiffened immediately, every nerve in his body firing off alarms. the combination of your softness and the faint scent of vanilla clinging to your skin was almost enough to send him over the edge. he inhaled deeply, trying to keep his composure, but the air felt thick and suffocating, and he was perilously close to letting out a moan that would’ve humiliated him in front of the entire room.
“i promise i won’t be a burden,” you added, flashing him a dazzling smile that showcased your perfectly sized teeth. “i’ll do my part, i swear.”
he nodded mechanically, his brain too messed up with the feel of your body against his and the lingering image of your lips curling into that smile. “y-yeah…” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly.
as you turned your attention back to the professor, jisung exhaled slowly, his pulse racing. his hands gripped his laptop so tightly his knuckles turned white, and he realized with growing dread that this partnership might actually kill him.
when class ended, you stayed behind, which was unusual since you were usually one of the first to dart out the door. as jisung zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, he noticed you looking at him expectantly. he panicked. did he have something of yours?
jisung glanced nervously at his belongings, double-checking as if your pencil or notebook might have somehow ended up with him. but you didn’t say anything. the silence stretched awkwardly until you finally stood up.
since the rows were so narrow, your movement brought you close… too close. jisung gulped as you stepped into his space, your perfume wrapping around him. he tightened his grip on his backpack straps.
“do you wanna start working on the project now? i have classes every day, and my evenings are pretty busy, so…” your voice trailed off meaningfully. jisung knew. oh, he knew. your evenings were reserved for livestreams. his evenings were also reserved for your livestreams. obviously, the project couldn’t cut into those sacred hours.
“uh, okay… do you wanna go to the library?” he managed, pushing his glasses up his nose. they kept sliding down because he had to crane his neck to look at you from this close distance.
“sure! next time, we can work at your dorm. i’d offer mine, but we have a strict no-boys policy in the apartment,” you said with a laugh, then added, “though my roommates break that rule all the time.”
“what about you?” the question tumbled out of jisung’s mouth before his brain could intercept it. his eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe he asked that
but you didn’t seem fazed. instead, you grinned. “you know, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” you teased, throwing in a wink that made his brain implode just a little.
as you spoke, jisung’s gaze flitted over you again—your mannerisms, your voice, that unmistakable charisma. the longer he looked, the more it hit him like a sledgehammer to the face. how had he not recognized you as collette sooner? sure, you wore a mask on the streams, and your hair was styled differently, but it was unmistakable now. you were her. and yet, standing here in front of him, you felt even more unattainable.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
at the library again, you couldn’t find a private room since you hadn’t booked ahead, so you settled for a secluded table tucked into the corner of the study area. it was jisung’s favorite spot on campus, not that he’d ever admit that to you. he didn’t want to look more like a loser than he already did.
you’d tied your hair up in a ponytail, and jisung wished you hadn’t. the simple change opened up your neck and collarbones, exposing more skin for his eyes to betray him over. he swore he could count the faint freckles scattered across your shoulders if he stared long enough. and, god, did he want to.
jisung sighed, pressing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to reset his brain. he needed to focus. if he was going to make it through this study session, he needed to stop thinking about your freckles or how your lip gloss shimmered every time your mouth moved.
focus, jisung. he started mentally listing the least sexy things he could think of: spongebob, frogs, khaki jeans, loud chewing. he even dredged up the memory of his fourth-grade math teacher, a grumpy woman he was convinced secretly hated him. it worked, until he realized you were talking to him, and he’d been staring straight past you like an idiot.
“sorry, what was that?” he blurted, blinking rapidly and focusing in on your glossy lips forming the last word of whatever you’d said.
you tilted your head slightly, your ponytail swaying with the movement. “i said, do you want to split up the research? or do you just want to work on the same section together?”
“uh…” jisung’s brain scrambled for footing, his face heating up again. “splitting it up is fine. yeah. let’s do that.”
you smiled at him, and he swore it felt like the library got ten degrees hotter. “great! i’ll take the first half, and you can take the second?”
“sure,” he mumbled, fumbling to pull out his laptop. as you turned back to your notes, jisung caught himself glancing at your neck and down to your cleavage again. frogs, he thought desperately. frogs. khaki jeans. loud chewing. but none of it helped.
he needed a cold shower. desperately. every time you leaned into him, jisung’s resolve cracked a little more. he was barely hanging on as it was, his left hand glued to his lap, pressing down in a feeble attempt to hide the semi he’d been sporting for the last twenty minutes.
“what do you think of this?” you asked, sliding your laptop toward him. your voice was sweet, your tone light and inviting, but jisung couldn’t focus on anything except how close you were.
“that’s good,” he mumbled quickly, trying to sound casual even though his throat felt like sandpaper.
“really?” you tilted your head, eyeing him skeptically. “you say that about everything i show you.”
“cause you’re really good at this,” he blurted out. he pressed harder on his lap, his fingers twitching in frustration.
you laughed softly, the sound making his heart stutter. then, to his horror, you gave him a slow once-over, your eyes narrowing slightly as you studied him. “you okay? you look tense.”
“yup, all good,” he said too quickly, his voice high-pitched. he glued his eyes to his laptop, pretending to focus on the passage in front of him, though the words blurred together into an unintelligible mess. please stop looking at me, he begged silently. please.
but instead, you cocked your head, resting your chin in your hand. “you know,” you began thoughtfully, “you sound like someone i know.”
jisung froze. fuck.
his mind went blank, panic flooding his system. his ears burned, and he felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. did you figure it out? do you know?
“but it couldn’t possibly be,” you said, shaking your head slightly as you turned back to your notes. “you’re too different.”
he released a shaky breath, his heart pounding so violently it felt like it might burst through his ribs. his lips pressed into a tight line as he risked a glance at you. so you did remember andy. jisung had assumed that with so many followers, even your most loyal supporter might fade into the background of your memory. but the private livestreams, the filthy words jisung had whispered that made you moan harder, all the praises and compliments he showered you with—it seemed those had stuck with you. because you remembered his voice.
“i’m gonna use the restroom really quick,” you said, standing up abruptly.
jisung’s eyes followed you as you walked away, the sway of your hips distracting him momentarily before reality snapped back into focus. as soon as you were out of sight, he groaned, his shoulders slumping as he looked down at his lap and the unmistakable tent that had formed there.
he needed to take care of this. now.
standing up, jisung winced at the sensitivity and began making his way toward the bathroom, his head down in an attempt to avoid eye contact with anyone. but just as he approached the hallway, he caught the sound of muffled voices. one of them raised, the other low and pleading. his steps faltered when he recognized your voice.
he crept closer and pressed himself against the wall, just barely peeking around the corner. there you were, gesturing wildly, your brows furrowed in anger as you stood toe-to-toe with someone jisung instantly recognized as sungchan, the captain of the basketball team.
“i told you to leave me alone,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “texting me from taro’s phone? really? now you’re dragging other people into this? why can’t you just understand that i want nothing to do with you anymore?”
“y/n, please,” sungchan said, his tone dripping with desperation. “i don’t know what else you want me to do. i’ve apologized a million times, and i’ve cut all communication with her. i haven’t seen her in months.”
he took a step closer, but you shoved him back by the chest.
“you should’ve done that before fucking her, don’t you think?” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.
“hey, it didn’t mean a thing to me, you know that,” sungchan said, his voice softening as he reached for your hip and squeezed. “you’re the only one i want.”
your body stiffened at his touch, and you glared up at him. “don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he didn’t move, his grip firm.
jisung’s jaw clenched. his fists balled at his sides as his eye twitched. why the hell was this guy touching you when it was clear you didn’t want him to?
“c’mon, baby,” sungchan purred, leaning in dangerously close to your neck. “you know i’m the only one who can make you feel good.”
before jisung could stop himself, he was stepping out from behind the corner. he cleared his throat loudly. the sound startled no one, so he did it again, this time pairing it with a sharp, “hey.”
his voice came out deeper than he expected, reverberating in the narrow hallway.
sungchan’s head snapped up, pulling away from your neck as he turned to look at the interruption. your eyes widened when they landed on jisung, standing there taller than usual, his broad shoulders squared.
“just wanted to check if you were alright,” jisung said, his gaze fixed on you, his voice steady.
sungchan’s expression darkened as his grip on your hip tightened. “and who the hell are you?” he spat, his tone venomous.
jisung didn’t flinch at sungchan’s hostility. his dark eyes flickered to your hip, where sungchan’s hand still rested, and then back to sungchan’s face.
“her partner,” jisung said evenly, his tone calm yet carrying a subtle edge. technically, he wasn’t lying, you were his group partner. “and she doesn’t look too comfortable right now.”
you glanced at jisung, your lips parting in surprise. sungchan let out a dry laugh, his hand finally dropping from your hip as he turned to fully face jisung. he towered over most people, but jisung stood his ground, unbothered by the difference in height.
“you’re her partner?” sungchan sneered, looking jisung up and down with a smirk that screamed condescension. “you don’t seem like her type.”
jisung’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained neutral. he looked at you instead, his voice softening slightly. “you sure you’re okay?”
your lips pressed together as you nodded quickly, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “i’m fine, jisung. really.”
but sungchan wasn’t done. “jisung, huh?” he repeated, his smirk widening. “sounds familiar. oh, wait—” he tilted his head, mockingly stroking his chin. “aren’t you that quiet little nobody who’s always hiding in haechan’s shadow?”
jisung didn’t react to the insult, though his nails dug into his palms. “that’s me,” he said with a shrug, his voice still maddeningly steady. “and you’re the guy who can’t take a hint and harasses girls.”
sungchan’s smirk dropped instantly, his expression hardening. “what did you just say?”
“you heard me,” jisung replied, his voice low. he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his confidence only making sungchan’s irritation grow. “she asked you to leave her alone, didn’t she? or was that too complicated for you to understand?”
you blinked at jisung, momentarily stunned at his boldness. sungchan, on the other hand, took a step forward, his fists clenching.
“listen here, you little shi—”
“stop!” your voice cut through the tension. both jisung and sungchan turned to look at you. you stepped between them, your expression firm as you faced sungchan. “i meant what i said, sungchan. this is over. stop calling me, stop texting me, stop showing up where i am. just—stop. i don’t want to see you anymore.”
sungchan’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he stared at you. “fine,” he finally said, his voice clipped. “but don’t come crawling back when you realize no one else is gonna treat you like i did.”
jisung couldn’t hold back the quiet scoff that escaped him, and sungchan shot him a glare before storming off down the hallway.
as the echo of sungchan’s footsteps faded, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. you turned to jisung, your expression both grateful and embarrassed.
“thanks,” you said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “you didn’t have to do that.”
jisung shrugged, his face a little pink as he adjusted his glasses again. “it’s no big deal. i just… couldn’t stand there and do nothing.”
“still, i appreciate it. my knight in shining glasses” you gave him a small smile.
jisung’s ears burned at the nickname, and he looked away, suddenly very interested in the floor. “ha, yeah.”
you laughed lightly “c’mon,” you said, gesturing toward the library’s main area. “let’s continue working”
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
you continued having sessions for the project after class, and slowly, jisung started coming out of his shell. he still mumbled and stuttered every now and then, especially when your attention lingered on him for too long, but he was starting to hold actual conversations now. and once he got going, it was hard to stop him. he’d gush about the most random things, like his favorite video game characters or how much he hated remakes of old horror movies. sometimes, he’d pull up conspiracy theory videos about aliens on his phone, his voice picking up speed as he rambled about the possibility of extraterrestrial life.
“i mean, think about it… how could we be the only ones in this massive universe? that’s just statistically improbable,” he’d say, adjusting his glasses as he leaned closer to show you grainy footage of a supposed UFO. you’d nod along, amused by his enthusiasm, even if half of it went over your head.
you also learned jisung had a thing for metal music. he shyly pulled out his phone one day to show you his collection of signed albums from bands you’d never even heard of. “this one’s from when they did a secret show in busan,” he explained, his fingers tracing the signatures like they were sacred artifacts. “and this? their first album. impossible to find in good condition.”
“wow, you’re really into this,” you said, smirking as you scrolled through the pictures. “so... are you in a band or something?”
he flushed immediately, shaking his head. “no, no! i’m not cool enough for that,” he muttered.
you couldn’t help but smile. “i think you’re cool,” you said simply, and his ears turned pink.
but jisung’s curiosity didn’t stop at music or aliens. he was fascinated by the simplest things. one time, you brought a new lip gloss to class—the kind that didn’t smudge or rub off no matter what. jisung had been so impressed that he begged you to show him how it worked.
“wait, so it stays on? like, even if you eat something? how?” he asked, eyes wide as you swiped some on the back of your hand.
“even if i kissed you right now it wouldn’t come off”
“oh… w-what’s in it? do you have the ingredients list?” he stuttered, his hand coming up to his face to hide the blush on his cheeks.
you laughed. “are you serious right now?”
“yes! this is pretty cool,” he said shyly. “i need to know.”
he was, all in all, a total nerd. but you found that endearing. you liked how he could get so passionate about the smallest details, even if he didn’t realize how cute he looked when he did it.
what you wanted to know most, though, was if he was really loaded. after all, someone had to be, to spend eighteen thousand dollars like that. one particular evening, while you were working on the project at a cafe, you decided to subtly bring it up.
“so... you said you tutor a lot of students, right?” you asked, stirring your iced coffee.
jisung nodded, flipping through his notes. “yeah. it’s decent money, especially before exams.”
“and you... do homework for them too?” you added, raising an eyebrow.
he hesitated, looking a little guilty. “only when they pay extra,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “but yeah. it’s not a big deal.”
“huh,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “you must be really good at it to make that much money.”
“i mean, i guess,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze. “but it’s not that much.”
“you sure about that?” you teased, giving him a knowing look. “because eighteen thousand isn’t exactly chump change.”
his head snapped up, and for a moment, he looked like a scared hamster. “w-what?” he stammered.
“nothing,” you said, smiling innocently.
he went back to his notes, but you didn’t miss the way his hand trembled slightly as he flipped the page. interesting.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
the next time jisung almost had a heart attack because of you was after one particularly grueling day of tutoring half of sungchan’s frat. he’d spent hours going over equations with guys who clearly had no interest in learning and had been on edge the whole time, doing his best to avoid running into sungchan himself. all the bravery he’d mustered at the library had definitely worn off.
he finally made it back to his dorm, exhausted and ready to collapse, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight of you sitting prettily on the edge of his bed, flipping through one of the XXX magazines sitting on his desk. his eyes widened, and his mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.
you noticed him and laughed at his expression. “one of your roommates let me in,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “i think his name’s jaemin?”
jisung blinked, his brain struggling to process. “uh… yeah, jaemin,” he managed to stammer.
“i came to see haechan, but he wasn’t in,” you explained, crossing your legs in a way jisung was so familiar with now. “so i thought i’d pay my new best friend a visit.”
his stomach did a full somersault as he realized you were talking about him. “oh… uhm, hi” he said weakly, scratching the back of his head as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
“hi,” you echoed with a grin, holding up the magazine. “some interesting reading material you’ve got here.”
“t-that’s not mine,” he blurted out, his face flushing red. “it’s haechan’s. i swear.”
you tilted your head, clearly unconvinced but too amused to care. “no need to be embarrassed,” you said casually, placing the magazine back on his desk. “you’re not the first boy in whose room i’ve found porn.”
jisung’s ears burned, and he had no idea how to respond to that. “right…” he muttered, shifting awkwardly.
“your room’s cleaner than i expected,” you added, glancing around.
“did you think i’d be messy?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“hmm, more like… sloppy,” you said, arching a brow in a way that could only be described as suggestive.
jisung swallowed hard, unsure if you were flirting or just messing with him. either way, his brain was short-circuiting. “oh?” he said, his voice coming out higher than he intended.
you laughed and leaned back on your hands, watching him with that same playful glint in your eyes. “relax, jisung. i’m just messing with you.”
he let out a small, nervous chuckle and stepped further into the room, trying to act like your presence wasn’t completely throwing him off. “so, uh… what brings you here?” he asked, carefully setting his backpack down.
“just bored,” you said with a shrug. “and since you’re my new best friend, i figured you’d entertain me.”
he blinked. “entertain?” shit, he almost got hard just hearing that.
“obviously,” you said, grinning. “you’re way more fun than haechan anyway.”
jisung doubted that, but he wasn’t about to argue. instead, he sat down at his desk, desperately trying to ignore how pretty you looked sitting on his bed.
“how about you show me how to play that game you talked about?” you asked, walking over to him and resting your arm on his gaming chair.
jisung blinked up at you, startled. “you wanna learn how to play League of Legends?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
“sure. it sounded fun when you told me about it,” you said with a casual shrug.
“uhm, okay then,” jisung said, his voice a little higher than usual as he leaned to flip the power switch on his PC. then he paused, realizing he didn’t have an extra chair. “wait, let me go borrow haechan’s chair,” he said quickly, jogging out of the room.
when jisung returned, chair in hand, his steps faltered. you were leaning over his desk, your skirt riding up just enough to show him what color were your panties today. his first thought, entirely unhelpful, was how badly he wanted to bend you over that desk. his second thought, unfortunately delayed, was that you had turned on his monitor.
and on the screen, clear as day, was his account page.
“so, it was you,” you said, the tone of your voice laced with triumph.
jisung’s eyes widened, panic flaring to life. “what—what are you talking about?” he stammered, dropping the chair with a clatter.
“andyp4rk02,” you said, your voice lilting with satisfaction as you turned to face him, crossing your arms. “i felt it was you. but i’m glad to have a confirmation now.”
jisung froze, his breath catching in his throat as his brain scrambled for something to say. “i—uh—what—”
“you’re not even gonna try to deny it?” you teased, stepping closer to him, the corner of your mouth quirking up in a smirk. “honestly, i was starting to think i was crazy. but you just confirmed it.”
“i—it’s not—” jisung’s voice cracked as he tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
you tilted your head, watching him struggle with an almost predatory gleam in your eyes. “relax, jisung. i’m not mad,” you said, your tone softer now, though it didn’t erase the teasing edge. “in fact…” you took another step closer, your voice lowering slightly. “i’m intrigued.”
“huh?” jisung’s voice was barely above a whisper, his throat dry as he tried to process what you were saying.
“the one thing i’m most curious about,” you said, taking a step closer, your tone casual but your gaze sharp, “is how you… a freshman, who doesn’t seem to have a job besides tutoring, managed to splurge thousands of dollars on me?”
jisung swallowed hard, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “i just…” he mumbled, looking away, his ears burning as he avoided your piercing gaze.
“c’mon, don’t be shy.” you leaned in slightly, your smirk widening. “andy would’ve bent me over that desk over there and started spilling every single thing i asked for.”
jisung’s eyes snapped up to your face, wide with shock. how did you know exactly what had flashed through his mind mere seconds ago?
“s-sorry,” jisung stammered, looking like he wanted to shrink into the floor. “this is just… are you really not uncomfortable? with me, i mean?”
“why would i be?” you asked, tilting your head as though the question itself was ridiculous. “i’ve gotten to know you better now. i know you’re not a weirdo or anything.”
jisung blinked, staring at you like you’d just told him the sky wasn’t blue. “but i—i mean, with everything i said to you before… all of that—”
“all of that was online,” you cut him off smoothly, your tone light. “and honestly? i think it’s kinda cute how much you adored me. well, adore me,” you corrected with a sly grin.
jisung’s jaw dropped slightly, his face somehow heating even more. “you… think it’s cute?”
“of course,” you said with a soft shrug, your tone so casual it was almost disarming. “you’ve been sweet this whole time, even when you were trying so hard to hide it. honestly, i’m flattered.”
your lips curled into a teasing smile as you leaned in just slightly. “but now, i want to know—” your voice dipped lower, warm and slow. your eyes locked with his, drawing him in without effort. “how did you manage it? the money, i mean.”
jisung swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he struggled to form a coherent response. “well… uhm…” he shifted nervously, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “i… saved up a lot of money since i was a kid,” he began, his voice quiet but steady as he forced himself to meet your gaze.
“i made a system,” he continued, his words gaining a bit more confidence as he explained. “i cashed a lot of favors, even in school. i’ve been doing other people’s homework since primary, practically. also…” he hesitated, his eyes flickering to the ground for a moment before darting back to you. “my dad… he started giving me an allowance every month when i was 14, and i never really used it for anything. so… i’ve just been saving. for a long time.”
you tilted your head slightly, clearly intrigued. “wow,” you murmured, crossing your arms in thought. the movement wasn’t intentional—or maybe it was—but it pushed your cleavage up just enough to make jisung’s brain stutter.
his eyes flickered down for half a second before he froze, his face turning crimson. his chest tightened, his breath shallow, because he was sure that if he so much as brushed against you right now, he’d moan like some desperate, pathetic fool.
“that’s… impressive,” you added, breaking the silence, though your tone had shifted, tinged with something almost playful. “you must’ve been really dedicated to saving all that up.” your words hung in the air, light and teasing, but your gaze lingered, as if searching for something deeper.
“y-yeah,” jisung stammered, his hands fidgeting by his sides. “i guess i’ve just… always been good with managing money.”
“clearly,” you said with a grin. you leaned in slightly, your voice dropping just enough to send his heart into overdrive. “it’s kinda sexy, you know.”
jisung’s brain went blank, his entire body tensing as if he couldn’t process what he’d just heard. sexy? he repeated in his mind, struggling not to outwardly combust. his mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out, and the only sound was the faint hum of his computer in the background.
“you okay?” you asked, your smile widening as you noticed his wide-eyed expression.
“y-yeah,” he managed to croak out, though his voice cracked slightly.
“relax, jisung,” you said, stepping closer, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. his breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but smile at how utterly helpless he looked under your gaze.
“i-i am,” he stammered, but the way he gripped the desk behind him for support said otherwise.
you laughed softly, tilting your head as your hand slid up his arm, fingers ghosting over his bicep before trailing down to rest lightly on his chest. “sure you are,” you murmured, leaning in so your lips were just inches from his ear. “you’ve been nervous since you entered the room.”
“i… i’m not nervous,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.
“oh, really?” you teased, letting your hand slip under the hem of his shirt. your fingertips grazed the warm skin of his stomach, and he jolted, sucking in a sharp breath. “but you’re trembling.”
“t-that’s not—” his words were cut off when your other hand came up to brush the hair out of his face, your touch gentle yet firm as you tilted his chin up to meet your eyes.
“you’re so cute,” you whispered, your thumb lightly grazing his jawline. his eyes widened, his lips parting slightly.
“you’ve been so sweet to me, sungie,” you continued, your voice dropping lower. “how could i not want to thank you?”
“t-thank me?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
you didn’t answer right away. instead, you leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek, so close to the corner of his mouth that he let out an involuntary whimper. “mhmm,” you hummed, your lips brushing against his skin as you moved to the other side, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his jawline.
jisung’s breathing was ragged now, his chest rising and falling rapidly as your hand slid further up his shirt, your nails grazing lightly against his ribs. “is this okay?” you asked softly, your lips hovering near his ear.
“y-yeah,” he managed to choke out, his voice trembling.
“good,” you murmured, pressing a kiss just below his ear, then another on the side of his neck. his hands gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles were white, and he let out a shaky breath, his head tilting slightly to give you more access.
you smirked, trailing your lips back up to his cheek, stopping just short of his lips. “you’re so quiet now,” you teased, your fingers lightly tracing circles on his stomach. “no more stuttering?”
“i… i don’t…” jisung panted, his words trailing off as your lips brushed against the corner of his mouth.
“you don’t what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his dazed gaze. his eyes were half-lidded, his face flushed, and his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath.
before he could answer, the sharp buzz of your phone vibrating broke the moment. you blinked, startled, and jisung let out a shaky exhale, his head dropping back against the wall in relief… or frustration.
“hold that thought,” you said, your voice still low as you reached into your pocket. your fingers lingered on his stomach for a moment before you pulled away completely.
jisung watched in a daze as you checked your phone, your lips pressing together. “looks like i’ve got to go,” you said, slipping the device back into your pocket.
“w-what?” he stammered, his voice cracking again as he stared at you in disbelief. “y-you’re leaving?”
“for now,” you said with a wink, stepping back and smoothing your skirt. “don’t miss me too much, okay?”
jisung could only nod dumbly, still leaning against the desk like his legs might give out at any moment.
“oh, and jisung?” you added, pausing at the door. he looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours. “you might want to take care of… that.” your gaze flicked downward for just a moment, and his face turned a brilliant shade of red as he scrambled to adjust his shirt.
you laughed, shooting him one last playful smile before disappearing out the door, leaving him flustered, breathless, and utterly unable to think about anything else but how good your lips felt on his skin.
that night, jisung lost count of how many times he jerked off. by the time he was done, he was so spent he didn’t even bother cleaning up properly. he passed out with a mess of cum smeared across his abdomen, his sheets damp and sticking to his skin.
the sound of retching woke him up.
he groaned, squinting as the sunlight poured directly onto his face. blinking sleepily, he turned his head to see haechan standing at the foot of his bed, his face twisted into an expression of pure disgust.
“look at the state of you…” haechan said, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. “seriously, dude, your dick’s gonna disintegrate if you keep going like this.”
“get out,” jisung groaned, voice hoarse. he rolled over, pulling the blanket halfway over his head to shield himself from both the sunlight and his roommate’s judgment.
“i would, but i have a message from y/n,”
jisung sat up at the sound of your name. his heart pounding as if he’d been jolted with electricity.
“she said she can’t meet you at the library today…”
jisung froze, the sudden buzz of energy deflating into cold panic. “oh,” he said softly, his voice laced with disappointment.
his mind immediately began spiraling. were you avoiding him? now that you knew he was andy, did you think he was a creep? were you disgusted? did you regret what happened yesterday? every terrible scenario played in his head as he stared blankly ahead, anxiety tightening its grip on his chest.
before he could spiral further, haechan continued, dragging out his words for dramatic effect.
“…she said she wants to meet you somewhere else instead.”
jisung’s head snapped toward him. “what?”
“she said she sent you the address and tried calling, but your phone’s off.”
his eyes darted to the floor where his phone lay facedown. practically leaping out of bed, he stumbled over the blanket, barely managing to stay upright as he grabbed the phone and plugged it into the charger.
“relax, dude. she’s not breaking up with you,” haechan said with a smirk.
“shut up,” jisung muttered, his focus entirely on the phone as it turned back on. when the screen finally lit up, he saw your message waiting for him.
his thumb hovered over it before he opened it. the address you’d sent was for a studio about thirty minutes away from campus. jisung frowned, his mind racing again. why there? what kind of place was it? and more importantly, how was he supposed to get there?
he groaned, already planning how he could convince jeno to lend him his car for the evening. but before he could get too far into his thoughts, he noticed haechan still standing there, arms crossed and a suspicious look on his face.
“what?” jisung asked, narrowing his eyes.
“nothing,” haechan said, but the grin spreading across his face said otherwise. “have fun tonight.”
with a wink, haechan strolled out of the room, leaving jisung standing there, equal parts nervous and excited, as he tried to figure out just what you had planned.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
by the time jisung reached the address you sent, he was soaked through to the bone. his hair sticking to his forehead, dripping rainwater down his face, and his clothes clung to his skin, cold and uncomfortable. jeno had flat-out refused to lend him his car, so jisung had to take the bus. the bus stop was two blocks away, and by the time he’d sprinted there in the pouring rain, his sneakers squelched with every step.
he stood now, breathless and drenched, staring up at the old building in front of him. the windows were grimy, and the exterior had an eerie, almost abandoned feel to it. with a reluctant sigh, he pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the lobby. it was completely quiet. the reception desk was empty, and no one was in sight, so he made his way up the narrow staircase to the third floor.
when he reached the door, his heart was hammering. should he have texted to let you know he was here? was he being too forward? after a beat of hesitation, he knocked, his knuckles tapping softly against the wood.
the door swung open after his third knock.
there you were, looking impossibly beautiful. your pink flowy dress caught the light, the fabric swirling around your legs as you smiled up at him. he’d never seen you wear a dress like that before. your makeup was flawless, more than usual, and the sight made his breath catch in his throat.
"you’re really punctual," you said with a soft smile, stepping aside to let him in.
but jisung didn’t move at first. his eyes scanned the space around him as he took it all in.
“is this…” he breathed in disbelief.
“welcome to collette’s studio.” you patted him lightly on the back, gently pushing him further inside.
“i wanted you to see it,” you continued, walking ahead, your fingers brushing against the smooth white sheets of the bed that dominated the center of the room. you glanced back at him with an expectant look.
jisung felt like he’d been dropped into one of his wet dreams. "i’m…" his words faltered as his senses overloaded, trying to catch up with what was happening.
"in shock?" you giggled softly, the sound light and airy. "you’re the first person i bring here."
"really?" he asked, his backpack slipping off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a soft thud.
“you brought your notes?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.
"yeah…" he stammered, feeling foolish now. "aren’t we gonna finish… the project?"
your gaze locked with his as you moved closer, your presence drawing him in. his eyes flicked nervously to the neon sign hanging on the wall.
"hm, we can… or we could do something more fun?" you suggested, your voice a soft temptation. you stepped closer, until there was barely any space between you two.
jisung tried to keep his composure, but his body betrayed him. every inch of him stiffened as you moved into his personal space.
"i have a proposal for you, sungie," you said, your voice lowering, honeyed and sweet. your hand found its way to the back of his neck, your fingers tracing the skin there lightly, coaxing a soft sigh from his lips.
"y-yeah?" he breathed out, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment at the sensation of your touch.
"would you like to guest on my channel?"
jisung’s eyes snapped open, disbelief painting his expression. “what?… y-you mean… do a livestream with you?”
he could barely comprehend what you were saying, his brain scrambling to process the words. "but you… you never do that… it’s always just collette."
you smiled softly, a glint of something mysterious dancing in your eyes. "you’re right, but for a while, i’ve been thinking of changing that. i just never found anyone i trusted enough for it."
jisung’s mind was racing. he couldn’t believe this was happening. you, asking him? how many times had he imagined being in this room, taking you in that very bed? but now that the opportunity was right in front of him, he was frozen. what if he wasn’t enough? what if he couldn’t satisfy you like you wanted?
“it’s okay if you don’t want to… it was pretty sudden of me to ask this,” you said, sensing his hesitation. you slowly withdrew your hand from his neck, leaving him cold and wanting more.
jisung panicked. he didn’t want you to think he was rejecting you, but the fear of embarrassing himself in front of not only you but a whole audience gripped him tight. what if he couldn’t live up to your expectations?
but then again, the thought of you finding someone else to do this with made his stomach twist with anxiety. he couldn’t back down now.
with shaky hands, he finally nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "i’ll do it."
“really?” you asked, your voice tinged with genuine surprise. you hadn’t expected him to agree. jisung didn’t exactly strike you as the type to willingly step into the spotlight, let alone in this particular way. this had every potential to go sideways.
but there he was, standing in front of you, his expression a blend of nervousness and determination. he looked like he was trying to keep himself from bolting.
you extended your hand toward him, watching as his gaze flickered down to it. he hesitated, just for a moment, before his much larger hand engulfed yours. his touch was clammy, his grip tentative, but it was enough.
“have you done this before?” you asked, glancing back at him as you led him toward the bed.
he looked utterly petrified, like a deer caught in headlights, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “a livestream, you mean? uh… yeah, i’ve—uh—seen a few… i mean, no! not seen, done! wait, i mean—”
you chuckled softly, cutting off his flustered rambling. “no, silly. i meant… is this your first time having sex?”
your tone was so casual and devoid of any judgment that it caught him completely off guard. his entire face went up in flames. he nodded slowly, his lips pressed into a tight line.
your smile softened, and you stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his chest. “then, we should practice before turning the camera on, don’t you think?”
he swallowed hard, his lips parting in a nervous attempt to respond, but no words came out. he simply nodded, his breaths shallow and uneven when you pushed him down onto the bed.
you reached for the straps of your dress and slid them off your shoulders, the fabric slipping down your body and pooling at your feet. jisung’s eyes went wide, his lips slightly parted as he stared at you. his gaze flickered nervously, starting at your feet and slowly working its way up, lingering on the delicate white lace of your underwear. he looked like he was on the verge of tearing up.
you moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. the sudden pressure made him suck in a sharp breath, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.
“tell me what you like,” you murmured, leaning in just enough for your lips to ghost over the shell of his ear.
“w-what do you mean?” his voice cracked, and he looked up at you with wide, panicked eyes. his hands were still frozen in place, unsure of what to do, so you gently took them and placed them on your waist.
“you can touch me,” you said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “when you watch my streams… what do you like?”
his whole body tensed, his fingers spreading hesitantly over your waist. he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, but at the same time, he couldn’t seem to look away. “uhm… i-i don’t know… i… i pretty much like everything,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“do you like when i use the toys?” you asked, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.
“y-yes,” he breathed, the word coming out shaky and unsteady.
“do you like it more when i lay down or when i sit?” you asked, trailing your hands under the hem of his shirt and tugging it up.
his breath hitched as you motioned for him to stand. he obeyed, his movements clumsy as he pulled off his shirt and hesitated with his pants. his hands trembled as he pushed them down, leaving him standing there in just his boxers, his face burning crimson.
“uhm” he started, his voice cracking. he swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor before flicking back to you. “when you sit?”
the second the words left his mouth, you pushed him gently, and he stumbled back onto the bed with a gasp. the flush on his cheeks deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears, as he looked up at you with anticipation.
“good,” you murmured, your fingers trailing along his chest. “then let’s see if you like this more.”
the sight of you straddling his lap made jisung’s throat go dry, his mouth parting slightly as his breath quickened. was this really happening? was he actually about to lose his virginity with the girl he had spent countless nights fantasizing about? every inch of him buzzed with nervous energy, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he might actually cry—happy tears, of course, but still tears.
before his mind could spiral further, he felt the soft press of your lips against his. the sensation was so unexpected and overwhelming that he whimpered without meaning to. the sound would’ve embarrassed him any other time, but he was too lost in the moment to care. his lips parted instinctively, allowing your tongue to slide into his mouth, deepening the kiss.
your fingers threaded into his hair, massaging his scalp, and a low moan escaped him. the warmth of your touch was intoxicating, but then your hips shifted, brushing against the hardness in his boxers, and jisung gasped into your mouth.
“shit,” he whispered, his voice shaky as his hips jerked up in response, pressing himself against your core. the friction drew a needy, broken moan from you that he immediately wished he could record and replay for the rest of his life. his head fell back slightly, breaking the kiss.
“how does that feel?” you murmured, grinding your hips against him again. “hm?”
“g-good… so… go—” his words trailed off, his eyes snapping open as he caught you unclasping your bra. the sight of you now bare from the waist up making him forget how to breathe.
he’d seen you topless before on your livestreams, but this was something else entirely. now, you were right in front of him, real and tangible. your breasts were perfect, even better than his wildest dreams, and his hands twitched on your hips, desperate to touch but unsure if he even had the right to.
“go ahead,” you said softly, as if you’d read his mind.
jisung hesitated, the thought flashing through his mind: am i even worthy of this? but before doubt could take hold, you grabbed his hands, guiding them to your chest.
“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers trembling as they cupped the warm, supple flesh. the softness beneath his palms made his head spin, and he instinctively squeezed, earning a quiet hum of approval from you. “so… perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, shyness seeping into his tone.
you smiled at him and leaned in closer, pushing your chest into his hands. his thumbs grazed over your nipples, and you bit your lip, the simple action making his heart feel like it might pound out of his chest.
“you’re doing so well, sungie,” you praised, your words wrapping around him like a warm blanket. he felt his confidence grow just a little, his hands becoming bolder as he continued to touch you, mesmerized by how soft and warm you were.
“c-can i…?” he trailed off, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke.
“go ahead,” you encouraged, and his mouth descended hesitantly, leaving a tentative kiss on the curve of your breast. the feeling was so new that he couldn’t stop the soft groan that escaped him.
jisung pressed his lips against your skin again, this time lingering a little longer. he felt the soft rise and fall of your chest beneath him, and it was mesmerizing. the warmth, the way you smelled faintly of vanilla, and the soft sighs you let out as he kissed along the curve of your breast—it was too much for him, and not enough all at once.
you tilted your head back slightly, giving him more room, your fingers still tangled in his hair as he kissed lower. his tongue darted out, shyly tracing your skin, and he heard you hum in approval. the sound sent a jolt straight through him, and his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours, pressing against your core.
“that’s it, sungie,” you murmured, your voice like velvet, guiding him. “you can touch more if you want. i don’t bite”
the teasing lilt in your voice made his entire face flush, but it also spurred him on. he let one hand wander, sliding up your side hesitantly before it cupped your other breast. his touch was still timid, his thumb brushing over your nipple experimentally. when you gasped softly and your hips shifted against his, jisung nearly lost it.
“does that feel good?” he asked, his voice barely audible, shaky and full of nerves.
“mhmm,” you nodded, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “you’re doing so well.”
the praise made him braver, and he leaned back slightly to look at you. your hair was slightly mussed, your lips parted, and your eyes were hooded as you gazed down at him. you looked like a dream, like something he’d only ever dared to imagine in the privacy of his own room.
jisung’s breath came in shallow pants as he watched you. your skin was soft, and your scent filled his senses, making it impossible for him to think about anything else.
“take these off too,” you murmured, your fingers tugging lightly at the waistband of his boxers.
his entire face burned crimson as he nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he hooked his thumbs under the fabric and began to slide them down. his heart was pounding so hard he thought it wasn’t normal, but the thought of stopping never even crossed his mind.
you leaned back just enough to give him room, watching as he pushed the boxers down his hips, his movements awkward and nervous. once he kicked them off completely, he sat there, completely bare before you, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he avoided your gaze.
“hey,” you said softly, reaching out to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you. “don’t be shy. you’re perfect, sungie.”
his eyes widened slightly at your words, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
“you’re really cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again. this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, and jisung melted into it, his hands finally moving to rest on your waist.
you shifted in his lap, pressing your core against him, and he gasped into your mouth, his hips jerking up instinctively.
“s-sorry,” he stammered, pulling back slightly, his face a deep shade of red.
“don’t apologize,” you said, brushing your fingers through his hair. “you’re doing so well.”
your praise made his chest swell, and he swallowed hard, his eyes flicking down to where your bodies were pressed together.
“touch me more, sungie,” you encouraged, taking his hands and guiding them up your sides, over your ribs, until they were back on your chest.
his fingers trembled as they cupped you, his thumbs brushing over your nipples experimentally. when you let out a soft moan, his confidence grew, and he leaned down to kiss your neck, his lips trailing lower until they found the curve of your breast.
“just like that,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair again as he continued exploring your body.
your hands slid down his back, your nails grazing his skin lightly, and jisung shivered under your touch. his own hands started to roam more boldly, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and finally settling on your ass.
you shifted again, grinding down against him, and he let out a choked moan, his head falling against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.
“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, kissing the side of his neck.
“i… i c-can’t help it,” he stuttered, his voice shaky. “you’re… you’re just…”
you smiled, pressing a finger to his lips to hush him. “it’s okay, sungie. just let me take care of you.”
he nodded, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you continued to move against him. every touch, every kiss, every sound you made drove him closer to the edge, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.
you leaned back slightly, reaching between your bodies to tug your panties down, and jisung watched with wide eyes as you discarded them. he couldn’t believe this was happening, like any moment he might wake up in his bed, alone and frustrated.
“are you okay?” you asked, your voice soft as you looked at him.
“y-yeah,” he said quickly, nodding. i just can’t believe this is real, he wanted to say but he was scared he’d sound like a loser.
“wait a second,” you said, sliding off his lap, the sudden loss of your weight making jisung let out a soft, involuntary hiss.
his eyes darted down, and he realized—much to his horror—that his dick was now standing proudly at full attention, no longer constrained by his boxers. in his mind, it was almost mocking him, like it was giving him a thumbs-up for finally letting his hand rest after all those nights of longing for you. jisung felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him, and his first instinct was to grab a blanket or pillow to cover himself.
just as he was about to reach for one, his attention was drawn to you. you were bent over by your bedside drawer, rummaging through it with an air of purpose. then, you pulled something out, holding it up for him to see… a shiny silver wrapper.
a condom.
jisung felt like his heart stopped beating for a second as he stared at the little package in your hands. something about seeing it made everything feel impossibly, undeniably real.
“ultrathin… so you can feel everything,” you said casually, your voice laced with amusement as you turned back toward him.
goodness, she’s gonna kill me. jisung thought, swallowing hard as he swore his dick twitched at your words.
“you’re quite big, sungie…” you mused, crawling back onto the bed with a grace that made his breath hitch. you moved toward him slowly, your eyes dark with intent. the way you approached him reminded him of a lioness stalking her prey.
“let’s see if it fits,” you added, a playful smile on your lips as you straddled his thighs.
jisung was completely frozen, his pulse pounding in his ears as he watched you unwrapping the condom with practiced ease. your hands moved so skillfully, the shiny material glinting faintly in the light. then you paused, looking up at him with a question in your eyes.
“may i?” you asked softly, your voice almost sweet, though your expression held that same predatory confidence.
“y-yeah,” he stammered, the word barely audible as he nodded frantically. in his mind, he was screaming, please, yes, god, yes.
the corner of your mouth quirked up as you leaned forward. your fingers were gentle but firm as you grasped his dick, and jisung couldn’t stop the shuddering gasp that escaped his lips. you slid the condom over him with ease, the mix of precum and the lubricant on the condom making it glide smoothly down his shaft.
it fit perfectly.
“fits you like a glove,” you murmured, your tone teasing as you leaned back to admire your handiwork.
jisung didn’t know what to do. his hands twitched at his sides, his mouth slightly open as he tried to breathe through the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.
then, without warning, you slid up his body, settling back onto his lap. the sudden pressure against his dick made him let out a low, shaky moan.
“ready?” you asked, your voice softer now, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned forward.
jisung swallowed hard, his wide eyes meeting yours. “y-yeah,” he croaked, his voice cracking slightly.
you lifted yourself slightly, aligning him with your entrance. jisung was trembling under you, his hands gripping the sheets as if holding on for dear life.
"breathe, sungie," you whispered, stroking his chest gently. his wide, panicked eyes met yours, and you smiled softly to reassure him.
he nodded quickly, forcing himself to take a shaky breath. when he exhaled, you sank down just a little, the tip of him slipping inside. his whole body jerked in response, a desperate, broken moan escaping his lips.
“fuck…” he muttered, his head falling back against the pillow. his grip on the sheets tightened, his knuckles turning white. the heat, the wetness, the feeling of you was unlike anything he’d ever imagined.
“good?” you asked, tilting your head as you hovered above him, testing his reaction.
“s-so good,” jisung gasped, his voice trembling. “so… tight… warm…”
you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction, but you didn’t tease him. instead, you lowered yourself further, slowly taking him inch by inch. jisung’s breathing grew heavier with every movement, his hips twitching upward involuntarily as if his body couldn’t help but chase the sensation.
"easy," you murmured, pressing a hand against his chest to still him. "let me take care of you."
jisung nodded dumbly, biting his lip as he tried to stay still. his eyes were fixed on you, watching every little movement you made in adoration.
when you finally took all of him, you let out a soft sigh of relief, adjusting to the stretch. jisung, on the other hand, looked like he was seconds away from imploding.
"you're... you're perfect," he blurted out, his voice breaking with emotion.
you laughed softly, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re pretty perfect yourself, sungie.”
you gave him a moment to catch his breath, your hands gently running up and down his sides to calm him. when you started to move, lifting yourself slowly and sinking back down, his head shot up from the pillow.
“oh my god—” jisung groaned, his hands flying to your hips instinctively. “oh my god, oh my god…”
his grip was unsure, as if he didn’t know whether to hold on tighter or let go. his hips bucked slightly beneath you, and you gasped at the unexpected movement.
"you're doing so well," you encouraged him, your voice breathy but soothing. you leaned forward, kissing the corner of his mouth before nipping at his jaw.
jisung whimpered at the praise, his hands sliding up your sides as he tried to ground himself. his lips found yours again, and this time, he kissed you with a bit more confidence, his tongue shyly seeking yours.
you rolled your hips against him, drawing a strangled moan from deep in his chest. his reactions were so genuine, so raw. it made your heart race just as much as his.
“faster,” he whispered against your lips, surprising both you and himself. his cheeks flushed red immediately after the word left his mouth.
you smiled, pressing your forehead against his as you obliged, picking up the pace. his grip on your hips tightened as he tried to meet your movements, his breaths coming faster and more uneven.
“you’re close, aren’t you?” you asked softly, brushing his damp hair out of his face.
jisung nodded rapidly, his eyes squeezed shut as his whole body tensed beneath you. “i—i can’t… i can’t hold it,” he stammered, his voice breaking with desperation.
“it’s okay,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “let go for me, sungie.”
the permission was all he needed. with a choked cry, jisung’s hips jerked upward, and he came harder than he ever thought possible. his whole body trembled as he gripped you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder as he rode out the waves of pleasure.
you held him through it, running your fingers through his hair and whispering soft words of encouragement. when his breathing finally started to slow, you leaned back slightly to look at him.
his face was flushed, his chest heaving, and his eyes glazed over as he tried to process what just happened.
“you okay?” you asked, stroking his cheek gently.
jisung blinked up at you, a dazed but blissful smile spreading across his face. “y-yeah,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “that was… amazing.”
you laughed softly, leaning down to kiss him again. “you did so well, sungie.”
he blushed at the praise, his hands resting on your thighs as he tried to steady himself. “thank you,” he mumbled shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“don’t thank me yet,” you teased. “we’re just getting started.”
the next day...
“sungie,” you said, your voice soft and slightly breathless. you were sprawled out on your couch, your notes and research scattered across the coffee table, all but forgotten.
“last night’s livestream got the most views i’ve had in months,” you murmured, looking down at him. “they must like you.”
jisung looked up from between your legs, his glasses fogged and slightly crooked on his face. his lips were swollen and glistening with your arousal, his cheeks flushed a deep red.
“really?” he asked, only half-interested. but before you could respond, he dove back down, his eager mouth finding your folds once again.
a sharp gasp left your lips as his tongue traced over you. this was already the second time today he’d eaten you out, and he’d only gotten better since his first attempt this morning.
earlier, you’d guided him through it, patiently showing him what felt good, what didn’t, and how to read the reactions of your body.
jisung’s long tongue worked wonders, licking and teasing in ways that had you gripping the cushions for dear life. when he sucked gently on your clit and flicked his tongue over it in quick succession, your thighs quivered against his head. he took note of the way your hips bucked involuntarily, doubling down on the action and making you cry out.
“you’re such a quick learner,” you panted, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly to spur him on.
he hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. the sound was almost self-satisfied, as though he was proud of the way he had you unraveling beneath him.
the combination of his inexperience and raw enthusiasm was intoxicating. jisung wasn’t just doing this to please you. he genuinely wanted to understand every inch of you, to learn what made you tick and what brought you to the edge.
and he was succeeding.
your thighs clenched around his head, your body arching off the couch as he alternated between languid strokes of his tongue and quick flicks against your most sensitive spot. “s-sungie, oh my god,” you whimpered, your grip on his hair tightening.
he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his glasses messier than ever. “does that mean i’m doing good?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled, and for a second, his shy, eager-to-please demeanor broke through.
you let out a breathless laugh, your hand cupping his cheek affectionately. “you’re doing amazing, baby.”
his lips quirked into a bashful smile before he returned his attention to your core, determined to coax another round of trembling moans from your lips.
jisung park, you thought as you teetered on the edge of bliss, was quickly becoming an overachiever in the best way possible.
a/n: my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic! thank you for reading <3
Summary: You impulsively adopt the cute hybrid that avoids all eye contact, but you end up accidentally spoiling him too much.
Pairing: Hybrid! Jisungx Rich! Female reader
Warnings: smut, smut, smut, fluff (he's too cute), mentions of drugs and SA (doesn't happen to ji nor y/n), mentions of hybrid abuse, some miscommunication at first, but it's solved quickly because they talk like adults (sort of). Also no proofreading! Sorry I got a bit lazy.
You examined the papers in front of you meticulously, looking for any abnormality. Every month, you visited the shelter to ensure your generous donations were used to improve the facilities and provide healthy meals for the hybrids that lived there. It had happened before that charity organizations received big sums of money from you, but it all went into the owner’s pocket. Whenever you discovered that was the case, you stopped your donations to the organization altogether, but this shelter had passed all your tests so far, offering you very detailed documents to prove that your money had been used the way it was intended to. Even if you showed up on a random Tuesday morning, the employees welcomed you calmly and showed you any document or room you asked to see.
The corridors were clean, besides the unavoidable remains of fur here and there. The rooms on each side of it were not luxurious, and the furniture was minimal, but they were large enough for 2 or 3 hybrids. When you were walking by the feline area, you stopped in front of the only room that had its door closed. All doors had a small, rounded window that allowed you to look inside, for security reasons, as the volunteer had explained during your first visit about a year ago.
Once you peeked inside, you saw a lone figure in the corner of the room.
“Where’s the other one?” you asked, after double-checking the room number. You remembered clearly that room 16 had an extra inhabitant.
The volunteer worker walking next to you stopped as well. “What?”
“The orange cat,” you clarified, remembering the sharp eyes of a cat hybrid glaring at you whenever you came too close to that room. “The one that hates people.”
“Chenle?” The volunteer seemed to know who you were talking about. “He doesn’t hate people! He’s just picky. Someone adopted him last week, actually,” she said with a sweet smile.
You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, thinking about that one time he tried to scratch a loving family that wanted to approach him.
“I know,” the volunteer laughed at your incredulous expression. “We were all surprised! There was this woman who came here looking for a hybrid to keep her company, and she made it very clear she wanted to adopt a dog, but Chenle clung onto her and, after a few visits, she ended up taking him home.”
“Ah…” you nodded awkwardly and glanced over at the lonely occupant of the room. His fluffy, dark ears were folded down, and his lips almost formed a pout as he sat on the floor, staring at the floor cheerlessly. “Is he sick?”
“Jisungie?” the volunteer asked, lowering her voice when she saw his ear twitch at the mention of his name. “He’s probably just sad,” she whispered. “It’s hard for him to get adopted. He’s not exactly what people expect of his breed…”
“Well, his ears are not as pointy, but other than that, he seems like a healthy cat hybrid to me…” You said, trying to defend him.
“Cat?” the volunteer echoed, surprised. “Oh… oh, no, Jisungie is a cricetulus barabensis.”
You stared back at her blankly before you finally admitted you had no idea what that was. “A what?”
“He’s a hamster hybrid,” she explained. “A Chinese striped hamster.”
“Then what is he doing in the feline zone?!”
“A few of our cats took a liking to him as soon as he arrived. They took care of him like he was their baby, so we let him stay here… but now that everyone in that group has been adopted, he’s been by himself. We tried to have him move to the rodent zone, but other rodents don’t get along with him…they find him…different.”
“...Why?”
“The same reason people don’t adopt him. When you think of a hamster, you picture someone small, chubby, and cuddly. He’s tall, awkward, and skittish. He’s not what hamster people are looking for, and neither does he match the description of an ideal companion for dog or cat people. Someone who came yesterday said he was not cute-”
“He’s cute!” you said without thinking. “Was that person blind? Were they even that pretty themselves? There’s nothing wrong with him! He’s adorable!” you ranted angrily. You were a softie inside. The type who watched compilations of people being nice to each other online and cried herself to sleep. Hearing about someone having their feelings hurt just because they didn’t fit the standard someone set for them made you want to either fight or sob uncontrollably. Maybe both.
“I agree with you,” the volunteer said. “But we can’t change what potential owners want…”
“They have to be dumb not to want him! Who in their right mind wouldn’t want this cutie?!”
“...Do you want him?” she asked cautiously.
“Me?!”
“We have known you for a while, so the background check would go smoothly and you could take him home in less than a week,” the excited volunteer explained.
“I’m not here to adopt. You know that,” you replied curtly.
“Right,” she hesitated. “I just thought… Well, if you change your mind–”
“I won’t. I do my part, donating more than enough for you all to keep this place afloat.”
“Hybrids need more than money…” she mumbled. “They need someone to care for them.”
“And you are great at it!” you assured her with a pat on her shoulder.
“It’s not the same,” she shook her head sadly. “They need undivided attention and companionship–”
“And I can’t offer that,” you declared. “Not with the lifestyle I have. I don’t want an extra responsibility taking up my time.”
The volunteer’s sad eyes looked away from you and at the hybrid. You followed her gaze and saw Jisung’s dark eyes boring into yours, before he quickly looked away. Then, he stood up slowly and dragged his feet towards his bed, where he lay on his side, with his back turned to you.
“I didn’t mean to pressure you,” the volunteer said, guiding you away from the feline zone. “I just thought you liked Jisungie.”
“It’s not that I don’t like him,” you said quickly. “I just don’t want to adopt him.”
“That’s understandable,” she said, trying not to show her disappointment.
It bothered you. You felt like she was trying to make you feel guilty because you didn’t want to adopt. Not wanting to own a hybrid didn’t make you a bad person. You were giving them money, weren’t you? That already made you better than those people who didn’t care at all.
Some people called you selfish for not wanting to form a family or have any type of companion. But was it really wrong to be selfish? You weren’t hurting anyone. You had worked really as an actress for years to build your current luxurious lifestyle. You wanted to enjoy it, have brunch with the girls, party until dawn with your friends, and take spontaneous trips to the beach. If you had a pet, you wouldn’t be able to do all that freely.
You cringed at your own thoughts. You tried to train yourself to treat hybrids as equals, but you found yourself, once again, referring to them as pets. Maybe you weren’t making donations because you were a good person, but because you wanted to feel better about yourself.
You remembered the hybrid’s sad eyes when he looked at you. You wondered how many times he had been rejected. Judging by his behavior, it had been too many to count.
You drank shot after shot and laughed at your friends' jokes at the club, but the image of the pitiful hybrid kept haunting you.
“I’m not a bad person!” you yelled drunkenly for the fifth time that night.
“Shh!” Seungkwan hissed. “Do you want another scandal?”
“The last one wasn’t even my fault!” you huffed.
“We know, we know,” Seungkwan said dismissively, switching your shot for a glass of water. “The director from your last movie was an asshole. But you still have to be careful with what you say in public.”
“Why are you so worked up, by the way?” Vernon asked. “You never let people’s words get to you like this.”
“I don’t care about what the volunteer said… But why did he look at me like I stabbed him in the heart?!” you insisted.
“The volunteer?”
“No. Jisung!” you exclaimed, frustrated at your confused friends.
“Who’s that?”
“The hybrid!”
“If it bothers you that much, go back and adopt him,” Vernon said, drinking your shot.
Seungkwan glared at him. “Are you crazy? Look at her! Do you think she can take care of somebody else?”
Now you glared at Seungkwan. “I totally can.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Drink your water, girl,” Seungkwan said, pressing the glass against your lips.
You gulped the liquid down and turned to Vernon. “I totally can, right?” you repeated.
Vernon shrugged. “I see no reason why not.”
Seungkwan shook his head. “You know you can’t get crazy drunk like this every week if this hybrid depends on you. What are you gonna do, leave him alone at home the entire time?”
“With food and TV,” you deadpanned, like it was enough.
“You’re just gonna keep him inside watching TV,” he paraphrased, unamused.
“He could party with us,” Vernon offered.
You nodded and looked at Seungkwan, looking for approval.
“You’ll adopt a hybrid and get him drunk so that you can feel better about yourself?”
“You’re making it sound like I would be a terrible owner,” you scoffed. You waited for him to contradict you, but he silently took a sip of his cocktail. “Seungkwan!”
“Y/N. A hybrid is a responsibility for life. And you are terrified of commitment.”
“I’m not terrified! I just don’t want to commit!”
“Then why are you talking about adopting a whole hybrid?!”
“I just want you to say I can do it!”
“You can’t!
“Vernon said I can!”
“Vernon!” Seungkwan scolded the handsome man who, once again, shrugged and stole a sip of his cocktail.
“I’m adopting him,” you declared, standing up, but the world immediately started spinning. Vernon caught you right before you fell, and with Seungkwan’s help, he carried you out of the club. “Gonna… gonna adopt Jisungie….,” you babbled.
“You won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow, Y/N,” Seungkwan sighed.
But Seungkwan was so wrong.
When you woke up after a few hours, your first thought was Jisung. You got up, wore something comfortable, took an aspirin, and got in your car with a clear destination: the hybrid shelter (with a short but necessary stop to get coffee).
Your heart was beating fast by the time you reached the shelter. You took a deep breath in and opened the door, quickly spotting the same volunteer you had talked to the day before.
“I want Jisung,” you declared.
The woman almost dropped the box she was carrying when she saw your disheveled appearance. She scanned you before putting the box down and approaching you slowly.
“A-are you okay?” she asked.
“You said there was no need for a background check, right?”
“Uh…I said it could be faster…”
“So I get to take him home today.”
“Today?!”
“Is he awake?” you asked agitatedly, walking towards the feline zone where you knew he was mistakenly staying.
The volunteer quickly caught up and stood in front of you, making you stop. “What are you doing?! You can’t just take him!”
Her outraged yelp worsened the sharp pain in your head, so you massaged your temple, irritated. “You wanted to give him to me yesterday,” you reminded her.
“And you refused!”
“I changed my mind,” you said simply, walking past the stressed woman, but you barely took a step before she grabbed your forearm. You turned around, feeling insulted by her behavior. “WHAT?!”
She glared at you defiantly. “If you take him, you can’t change your mind. You must treat Jisung like family, not a trophy to display your altruism.”
That stung. “I…I know that…”
“Then please go home and come back only when you’re absolutely sure you can do this,” she demanded firmly. “And make sure you’re sober.”
You sighed with relief when you got back home. Now that you were sobering up, the idea of adopting a hybrid seemed as ridiculous as Seungkwan pointed out. You dodged a bullet thanks to that annoying volunteer.
It was better to forget about Jisung.
And his fluffy ears.
…And his sad eyes.
…And the way he flinched when you said you didn’t want him.
But you just couldn’t stop thinking about him. After two weeks, you found yourself filling out the necessary paperwork to register him under your care. The annoying volunteer was being nice to you this time, which led you to think that previously she was being cautious to ensure the safety of the hybrids.
When Jisung came to the reception area, carrying only a backpack with his belongings, he had the look of a lost child. He stole glances at you before looking at the floor nervously, and his hands were visibly shaking.
He also kept looking at the volunteer to confirm that this was indeed happening, and when she gave him a thumbs up, his eyes widened a little before squinting to accompany his timid smile. He mentally repeated your name a few times when you officially introduced yourself to him, and then he nodded enthusiastically at everything you said.
You started to get nervous when you noticed he hadn’t said a single word while you went on about the room you had prepared for him, the phone you had bought him, and how you hoped you two would get along.
“He’s just overwhelmed,” the volunteer quickly assured, noticing your concern. ”Give him time and he’ll be yapping non-stop…” she trailed off when she caught sight of a familiar face entering the shelter. “Haechan, again?!”
A cat hybrid with beautiful caramel skin sighed and dropped his backpack on the floor. “Stop acting surprised. You keep giving me away to shitty people and then blame it on me when they send me back.”
“Where’s your owner? I’ll talk to her and maybe–” the stressed volunteer walked to the door to solve the problem.
“She’s not my owner anymore. Bitch kicked me out of the car and drove away. I’m not going back to her.”
She groaned. “Haechan… what do I do with you?”
“How about a welcome hug? Didn’t you miss me?” he pouted, opening his arms as an invitation.
“I did not,” she grumbled.
“Yeah… yeah, you did,” he affirmed with a sultry tone you doubted was appropriate for the workplace, and when his gaze lingered on her body for a little too long, you decided to clear your throat in an attempt to speed up Jisung’s adoption process.
Both the volunteer and Haechan jumped and looked at you. Haechan was the first to speak.
“Hi, I’m Y/N!” you introduced yourself, shaking his hand. “Are you Jisung’s friend?”
“Mhmm, you can call me Haechan. Hopefully, you won’t send him back like they did to me.”
“NO!” you exclaimed, scandalized. “I would never–”
“Yeah, you’re right…” he purred, patting the hamster hybrid’s back. “You won’t want to send him back when you see what he’s packing.”
Jisung’s eyes almost popped out of his head, and he clumsily covered his crotch with his hands despite being fully dressed.
“HAECHAN!” the poor volunteer shrieked, pushing the mischievous cat towards the feline area. “I’m so sorry about him. Just ignore him! You’re all set! A staff member will visit you after a few weeks for the first evaluation. Good luck!” she said, disappearing into the corridor with Haechan.
Jisung was silent on the ride home, and he remained quiet as you gave him a tour of the penthouse. When you finally heard his voice, it wasn’t what you expected.
“Master…” a deep voice suddenly called when you were leaving him to unpack his stuff in his room.
You turned around, speechless.
That was his voice?
“You haven’t told me the rules, master,” he pointed out. This time, you saw his lips move as the words left his mouth, which helped your brain accept that such a soothing voice came from this cute creature.
“T-the rules?” you echoed confusedly.
“Yes, master. Please tell me what I can and can’t do in your house.”
“Jisung, this is your house too. Just make yourself comfortable.”
He visibly malfunctioned. It felt like a trap, but he wouldn’t dare question your instructions.
“Okay. Thank you, master.”
“And don’t call me that,” you requested. “Just call me by my name.”
He nodded. “Master Y/N.”
“No…I mean– just call me Y/N.”
His mouth opened and closed, and then he shook his head.
“No?” you asked. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”
He bit his lip and looked at you nervously.
“Okay,” you sighed with defeat. “Just call me whatever is easier for you.”
“Thank you, master,” he whispered.
It may have been easier for him to call you by that title. But for you, it was mortifying when you took him shopping and he said it out loud in front of other people. Other than that, Jisung was an incredibly well-behaved hybrid. He always did as he was told, obediently accompanied you whenever you took him out to run errands, thankfully accepted every luxurious item you bought for him, and patiently waited for you at home when you went out by yourself.
And the best part was that you could continue living your life the way you liked. You still went out to parties until late at night, and Jisung didn’t seem to mind. He simply stayed at home, watching TV like you told him he could and asking you about your day as soon as you arrived. What you didn’t notice was his growing anxiety, the longer it took you to come back to him.
But how would you notice? He never said anything.
One night, you came back very late, taking off your shoes at the entrance and trying to find your way to your room in the darkness.
“Master,” his deep voice called out of nowhere, causing you to yelp in shock.
“Jesus–fuck, Jisung!” you exclaimed when you saw him standing in the corridor. “What are you doing awake?”
“I’m sorry– I…I have a question…” he mumbled.
“A question? This late?”
“Uh…I can wait until the morning…”
“No, no…” You sighed. “It’s fine. What is it?”
“I was uh…I was wondering if it would be okay for me to eat something…”
You stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
His stomach growled loudly, and he cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to grab anything without permission, so…”
That’s when you realized that in the couple of weeks Jisung had lived with you, you had always given him clear indications whenever it was time to eat.
‘Dinner’s in the microwave’, ‘Shall we have pizza?’, ‘Breakfast ready!’, ‘You can heat up some soup if you want’, among other verbal confirmations that it was okay for him to eat something, were always there, but he didn’t hear anything like that today. You had left early in the morning, spent the day outside, and returned past midnight.
“Jisung, have you eaten anything at all today?” you asked.
“I wasn’t sure what was okay–”
“Oh my god,” you groaned, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the kitchen. “I told you this is your house! You can use everything in it, and you can eat whatever you want!”
He mumbled a weak ‘Sorry’ as you took out a package of instant ramyun from the shelf and started preparing it.
“I want you to eat even if I’m not here. Understood?” you said once you were both at the table, and he started eating. “You can cook too, if you want. Do you know how to cook?”
He shook his head.
So you decided to buy more frozen meals that he could heat up when you’re not around.
Another week went by uneventfully. A staff member from the shelter showed up to check on Jisung and decided you were doing a good job since he was clean, well-fed, and had his own spacious room. Jisung tried his best not to cause any trouble. Even if that meant he didn’t do anything all day. But he felt uneasy…
Each passing day, he saw you less, and he was starting to think that maybe… you didn’t like him.
He tried waking up earlier in the morning to spend more time with you, but as soon as you got out of bed, you dressed up and left to who knows where. So he tried staying up until very late instead, but as soon as you arrived, you went to bed. He didn’t want to be ungrateful; after all, you had given him a home.
…But he felt even more lonely than when he was at the shelter.
“How are things with your human?” Chenle asked while videocalling.
“Uh… she’s nice,” he mumbled.
“Nice or… nice?” Chenle stressed the last word with a teasing smile.
Jisung’s face turned red. “It’s not like that…”
“Oh…” Chenle’s smirk dropped. “Haechan said she was your type…”
“WHA–?” Jisung cried out and then covered his mouth, looking around and then remembering he was–once again– alone. “What does he even know about my type?!”
“Jisung, we raised you,” Chenle deadpanned.
“We’re almost the same age!” he refuted, offended.
“But we’ve known you for a long time. He said he saw your ears twitch at the sound of her voice.”
“That’s…! I was just happy to be adopted…” he replied.
“Okay, maybe he got the wrong idea,” Chenle conceded. “Relationships between hybrids and humans aren’t all the same.”
That’s when Jisung got curious. “What about your owner?”
“Hm? What about her?” Chenle asked nonchalantly.
“Is she…nice like that?” he asked, lowering his voice at what he thought was a scandalous question.
But Chenle’s eyes lit up, and the corners of his lips curled. “She’s very nice.”
Jisung gasped.
“D-do you have that type of relationship with her?!”
“No, not yet,” Chenle sighed. “I’m working on it, but she acts more like a mouse than you… she gets all jumpy and shy when I get too close…” he added, chuckling.
“You’re going to scare her,” Jisung warned him.
“Nah, she just follows this dumb moral code that makes her think it would be wrong to let me fuck her stupid,” Chenle shrugged.
Jisung blushed, but not only because of his friend’s obscene choice of words. For some reason, his brain decided to create a visual representation of himself fucking you stupid. A tiny, surprised moan escaped his mouth, and Chenle heard it.
“Thinking about something naughty?” he teased.
“N-no!”
“Are you thinking about your owner?”
“I… our relationship is not like that!” he whined.
“But do you want it to be?”
“No– I just… want to be friends...”
“Okay…” Chenle said. “Then what’s the problem?”
“There is no problem.”
Chenle raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Jisung.”
“...Fine, I… I think she may not… like me very much…” the hamster hybrid finally admitted.
“Why would you think that?”
“We never do anything together… She’s never home, and when she is, she goes straight to bed… I don’t know, she may be avoiding me…”
Chenle hummed, processing this information. “I don’t think she’s avoiding you, Jisung. If she didn’t like you, she could just return you, like they did to Haechan.”
Jisung gulped. Going back to the shelter was the worst that could happen to an adopted hybrid. He felt bad for Haechan.
“Maybe she’s actually busy,” Chenle continued. “What does she do for a living?”
“Hm… she’s an actress… Have you heard about Y/N L/N?”
“WHAT? YOU WERE ADOPTED BY Y/N L/N?!”
“Uh…yeah…”
“First of all: wow. But secondly, and more importantly, that means she is busy, Jisung. Celebrities have a lot going on.”
Jisung shrugged. “I guess…”
“And I bet she’s tired when she gets home too. Why don’t you do something to help her relax when she gets home? Maybe that would help you two become closer.”
Jisung nodded slowly, but he couldn’t hide the confusion on his face. “...Like what?”
The cat hybrid stared back at him, blinking slowly. “That’s up to you. What would you like to do for her?”
Jisung thought hard about it all day until he eventually came up with something he thought was a good idea.
…And that’s how you came home to your kitchen being a mess, with your hybrid looking like he had committed a crime.
“Y-you’re home early…” he stuttered, avoiding your questioning eyes.
“Were you hungry?” you asked with a small laugh. “What were you trying to make?”
“Lasagna…” he replied, embarrassed. His sauce-covered clothes confirmed that cooking wasn’t one of his talents. “Saw it on tiktok.”
“You could have just ordered some, or text me to buy some for you on my way back,” you said, shaking your head and starting to clean the kitchen.
“I, uh… It was for you…” He said, barely above a whisper.
“Huh?” You looked at him, surprised. “For me?”
He shrugged, but then you noticed something weird. He kept one of his hands behind his back.
“What are you hiding?” you asked, teasingly.
“Nothing,” he said, but he took a step back.
“I promise I won’t laugh, Jisungie!” you said, thinking he was hiding the results of his cooking attempt. You took a few steps towards him until he was cornered against the counter. “Show me, come on!”
“It’s nothing!” he insisted, trying to escape, but you reached for his hidden hand, and he winced in pain.
“Jisung?” you asked worriedly, finally managing to take a look at his reddened hand. “What happened to your hand?”
He bit his lip, still looking anywhere except your eyes.
“Did you burn yourself?!” you insisted.
He shrugged, but his cheeks were red and his eyes were glossy. He wanted you to see he could be dependable, but he ended up making a fool of himself. Could things get any more embarrassing?
“Why didn’t you call me?! I gave you a phone for a reason!”
“It wasn’t an emergency,” he mumbled.
“What?!”
“You said to call you in case of an emergency.”
“Burning your hand is not an emergency to you?!” you asked.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, trying to pull his hand away with a humiliated sigh, but your grip remained strong.
“Inconve–What are you even talking about?” you asked. “Jisungie, I’m supposed to take care of you!”
“Yeah, since I’m just a useless pet…” he spat, breaking free from your grasp and walking away.
“What did you say?!” you asked incredulously.
“Nothing. Just leave me alone, ok?”
You saw red. This wasn’t like him at all. He had never talked like that before.
So you followed him.
“Don’t you walk away from me! Where is this attitude coming from?”
“I don’t get it,” he yelled back, ignoring your order and walking towards his room. “If you don’t like me, why did you adopt me?”
You gasped. “What’s gotten into you today? Of course I like you!”
He stopped right before his bedroom door, turning around and glaring at you. “Yeah? Is that why you’re never home since I started living here?”
“I’ve always been like that! Even before you got here! I have things to do!”
“And I have nothing to do!” he exclaimed. “I stay home all day, waiting for you like an idiot.”
“You can do anything you want, Jisung,” you repeated the words you had told him so many times before. “You don’t need me here to have fun.”
“I don’t want to be alone!” he finally admitted. “I–... I hate it,” he added softly.
Despite his quiet voice, the words landed like a dropped plate. Silence followed the unexpected confession.
And then, he sniffed.
It started as a small broken sound, but it soon escalated into sobs that let out the sour feeling he had been repressing for so long.
“Oh…” you mumbled, astonished. He always said everything was fine… This was the first time you heard him voice his feelings so strongly. “Jisung, I– I’m sorry…” You cooed, pulling him into a hesitant hug, praying it didn’t make him feel more uneasy. Thankfully, he welcomed your touch, and his arms immediately pulled you closer. You had no idea how much he needed physical touch right now. How much he craved being close to you, the person whom he had hoped would be his new family.
Still clinging to each other, you slowly sank to the floor, as he cried loudly on your shoulder.
“I w-wanted to do…something f-for you,” he managed to say between hiccups. “But y-you already have… you have everything you want and I– I’m j-just here… dumb and useless and u-ugly–”
“NO!” you refuted, pulling away and holding his face with your palms. “You are none of those things, Jisung. You are smart, loving, and beautiful. Do you hear me?
His reddened, sad eyes avoided yours. “You’re just saying that…”
“I’m not! I’m sorry I made you feel like this, Jisung. I’m just… too used to being alone. I… don’t know how to live with someone. But I like you. I really do.”
He sniffed, and his rounded ears twitched. “Really?”
God, he was adorable.
“Really,” you insisted, and before you could stop yourself, you kissed his forehead softly. “Now, let’s go to the hospital,” you said, smiling and pulling his arm to guide him to the front door.
Jisung thought going to the hospital was a great idea, but not because of his hand. His heart was doing weird flips in his chest, and he felt his face burning after your lips touched his skin. There was surely something wrong with him.
Time blurred since that moment. He followed you without hesitation and let you take him to the hospital. Then he heard you explain everything to the doctor before he could say a word. He looked at you in awe as you took care of all the paperwork, paid the bill, and drove him home. He then waited obediently for you to cook a meal for him, shaking his leg excitedly and replaying the memory of the loving kiss in his head again and again. It felt so tender, and he just knew you weren’t faking it.
‘She cares,’ he thought. ‘She likes me at least a little bit.’
“Is it good?” you asked as he devoured the stew.
For the first time, you heard him giggle. The gentle sound escaped his mouth before he cleared his throat. “Yes. Thank you,” he said, trying to act normal, but his eyes squinted slightly, the corners crinkling as he fought back a smile.
It was contagious. Seeing his efforts to keep a straight face made you break into a wide grin.
You reached out and ruffled his hair, laughing at how happy he looked despite his injured hand.
“What you said earlier…” You spoke carefully, trying not to ruin the moment. “About hating to be alone…”
His smile instantly dropped. “Sorry about that…I was just upset…”
“Did you mean it?”
“I know you like your independence.”
“But you don’t,” you guessed.
“I’ll get used to it,” he assured you quickly.
“But you don’t like it,” you insisted.
He licked his lips nervously and hesitated before nodding. “I don’t like it…”
“Good to know,” you sighed, much to his surprise. “I want to know these things. You never tell me what you like or don't like.”
“I didn’t want to impose,” he mumbled.
“You’re not imposing. It’s normal for two people living together to know things about each other. I have been waiting for you to open up.”
He blinked. “Open up?”
“Yeah, I want you to talk to me.”
His nose wrinkled, and he looked at you, completely lost as to what he could say.
“Let’s start with something simple. What do you do in your free time?”
“My free time?” he echoed blankly.
“Yeah, what do you do all day in this place?”
“I…I wait for you?” he replied.
“...And do what?”
“Uh…I watch TV.”
You resisted the urge to question whether that was really all he did or how he could watch TV all day. “Do you like watching TV?” you asked instead.
“Yeah, it’s…it’s okay…”
“But it could get boring,” you tried to reason. “Doing the same thing every day, I mean…”
He bit his lip. He wasn’t denying it.
“How about doing something outside? Do you like sports?” you offered.
“... I like soccer,” he admitted.
“Let’s find you a team to play with, then.”
“Really?” he asked with an unlikely high-pitched tone.
“Yeah! I’ll ask some friends if they could recommend–”
“Chenle–!” Jisung exclaimed excitedly, before regulating his voice to a calmer tone. “M-my friend from the shelter… he– he goes to this sports club and he said it’s fun and– and a lot of his teammates are hybrids and–” he rambled excitedly until a sudden thought crossed his mind and his ears flattened. “But he pays for a membership…”
“Yeah, all sports clubs require a membership,” you agreed. “I’ll pay for it.”
“Oh, no I– I don’t really need–” he stuttered, feeling guilty for suggesting something that would be a waste of your hard-earned money.
“But you want it.”
His body tensed, and his gaze lowered. “It’s fine.”
But you weren’t having any of that. “Ask your friend for the club’s name. You’re going next week.”
His jaw dropped, and then he forced it shut, shaking his head. “No, master, I–...” he sighed. “I’m–... you don’t have to spoil me like that…”
You snorted, finally understanding why he kept choosing the cheapest stuff at the store.
“Jisungie,” you called his name gently. “I’m rich. I have money. I want to spoil you,” you clarified.
He gulped. You wanted to spoil him? Fuck, that sounded so good coming out of your mouth.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice accidentally sounding deeper, raspier.
Unaware of the sudden shift in the air, you kept talking, thinking you were still talking about money.
“Of course, Jisung! I want to give you the best life you could ever have. Just tell me what you want,” you offered, reaching for his unwounded hand across the table.
“What I want…” he echoed absentmindedly, observing the way your thumb caressed the back of his hand. His brain was picturing exactly what he wanted from you, and Chenle had been so right about it. Seems like he didn’t want to be just friends after all…
You nodded. “I’ll give you anything you want,” you confirmed.
He exhaled a shaky ‘Oh…’.
Now he was hyper-aware of your touch.
Stillness bloomed in the wake of his not-so-pure thoughts.
“Wanna try right now?” you asked suddenly.
“What?!” he shrieked.
“Come on!” you giggled. “Tell me one thing that you want.”
He looked from your touching hands to your curious face, mulling it over cautiously. If he told you what he wanted, it would change everything. So he didn’t say anything.
“We can start with something small,” you suggested, sensing his uncertainty.
Small?
For him, everything that came from you was a big deal.
A kiss…
One like the one you gave him earlier.
Or maybe he could give you one instead. A loving kiss on your temple, or your cheek…
Would you let him kiss your lips?
He pushed those thoughts away. The last thing he wanted was you sending him back to the shelter because he crossed the line.
“Y-you are an actress, right?” he asked instead.
“Yeah,” you confirmed. “I’ve been acting since I was 7.”
“Can we…” he trailed off nervously. “W-watch one of your movies, or something? I mean… a movie you’re in…”
You were expecting him to ask for something you could buy, but this was a good start if you wanted him to be comfortable asking you for things in the future.
“Sure!” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Do you wanna watch it right now?”
“Yes,” he said quickly, not wanting to say goodnight and part from you just yet.
You gently squeezed his hand before telling him to google a list of your movies and choose one while you made popcorn.
When the movie started, he sat in the opposite corner of the sofa, but as the story progressed and you both became more absorbed in the plot, he moved closer. He touched your arm clumsily, keeping the touch light enough to play it as an accident if you didn’t like it. Instead of questioning him or pushing him away, you opened your arms as an invitation to come even closer. He held his breath as he hesitantly scooted over, and he melted when one of your hands landed on his fluffy hair and scratched his ear carefully.
“Hmm…” he purred, leaning into your touch.
“Good?” you asked sleepily, with your eyes glued to the screen.
“Good,” he whispered, clinging onto you, resting his head on your shoulder, and letting out pleased little sounds.
“Should we do this every week?” you offered.
“Mhmm…”
That was the beginning of you and Jisung’s first routine as ‘roommates’, but more were soon to come. Now, having breakfast together was sacred; Jisung learned to make pancakes and other simple recipes, and he woke up excited to make something to eat together. You always found yourself waking up to the smell of coffee and the soothing view of your hybrid preparing breakfast and humming to little tunes.
He was also getting more comfortable asking for things… and bolder with his words.
‘Is it okay if I decorate my room?’
‘May I go with you?’
‘Would it be too much if I ask for a laptop?’
‘Can some friends come over?’
‘I want to take singing lessons.’
‘Can I sleep with you tonight?’
“What?” you asked while you stood at the doorframe of your bedroom.
“Uh…I asked if… I could sleep w-with you…” stuttered your hybrid, having knocked on your bedroom door late at night.
You looked from him to your king-sized bed, confused. “You want to sleep here?”
He barely nodded, losing his confidence at your hesitation. “T-the neighbors are having a party and… and I hear everything from my window so I c-can-t… It’s kinda hard to sleep…uh… sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you up, I… I’m gonna g-go…”
“Come in,” you murmured.
“What?”
Instead of replying, you opened the door wider as a silent invitation. Jisung’s pulse accelerated as he watched you walk towards your bed and lie down.
“You coming?” you asked when he didn’t move.
Your sleepy voice shouldn’t have made his heart jump like that. As he lay down on the opposite side of the bed, he began to question whether this had been a good idea. Your pillow smelled like your shampoo and he could feel the warmth emanating from your body. And to make things work, his anxiety decided to act up, making him tremble slightly.
“Are you cold, Jisungie?” you asked with a yawn.
“Y-yeah,” he lied. He wasn’t going to admit that the real reason he was shaking was that being in the same bed as you was making him spiral.
“Hmm… come here,” you mumbled, opening your arms just like you did to cuddle when you watched movies together.
Yes, this was no different than watching a movie with you. Just because now you were on a bed, he didn’t need to be this nervous, Jisung told himself as he moved closer. As usual, all tension left his body once he was hugging you. He let out something between a sigh and a moan.
“Thank you…” he breathed out, pulling you closer and impulsively kissing your cheek.
You froze, and you felt his face heat up through the fabric of your pajamas as he hid his face in your chest.
“G-good night!” he said quickly, wondering how believable it would be if he pretended to be snoring right at that moment.
But instead of being mad, you chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “Good night, Jisungie,” you murmured.
He fought the urge to kick his feet like a happy teenage girl with a crush and replayed the sweet interaction in his head until he fell asleep.
One thing about Jisung was that he was a fast learner, but that also meant that if you permitted him to do something once, he assumed it was okay to do it anytime. So he ended up sleeping in your bed so often it became the norm.
He was also more touchy. He caressed your hands and arms absentmindedly whenever you were hanging out, and he had developed the cute habit of kissing your cheek every night before going to sleep (although you could feel his lips trembling as they touched your skin).
You were so proud of how his timid requests became assertive. Now he sounded confident whenever he wanted something because he just knew you would always say yes.
The first time you regretted teaching him how to feel so empowered happened during one of your weekly movie nights.
“I look so dumb!” you whined, looking at yourself playing the role of a sexy spy.
“You look good! Stop saying that!” Jisung laughed, resting his head on your shoulder and hugging you tighter against his chest, between his sprawled legs. This was a cuddling position you naturally adopted when watching movies lately.
“I hated this movie! I never watched it after I finished filming it last year…”
“Why did you hate it so much?” he asked.
“Because it makes no sense! Why would I wear high heels and a tight dress to run and jump out of buildings?!”
He giggled. “But you look amazing,” he murmured sleepily.
You felt your skin warm up a little.
…And this wasn’t the first time.
Now that Jisung was more confident, he found it easier to compliment you when you least expected it. Each compliment made you feel a little hot and bothered, especially when he said them with that voice.
He had never done anything remotely sexual in your presence…
So why were you thinking about Jisung like that?
Was it because of that time he came out of his room shirtless, asking if you had seen his favorite hoodie, and you stared for too long?
Or maybe that one time you scratched his nape and he straight out moaned and asked for more, making you accidentally picture him in a totally different scenario?
Or any other time you kind of perceived him as attractive?
Jisung.
Attractive.
Oh god…
You were attracted to your hybrid.
You were still coming to terms with that realization when you heard a moan–your own moan–coming from the screen.
Oh, no…
No, no, no…
You completely forgot about that scene.
“Shit. Let’s watch something else–” you quickly suggested, trying to stand up to reach for the remote, but Jisung’s arms kept you in place. You looked back as much as you could with the limited movement he allowed you, and you saw his dark eyes looking past you, glued to the lewd scene on the screen. “Jisung, nooo! Don’t look!” you begged, trying to cover his eyes with your hands.
“Stop,” he replied curtly, grabbing your wrists and holding them against your chest with one big hand, while his other arm kept circling your waist. “You said we can watch whatever I want. I want to watch this one.”
A shiver ran down your spine.
His agitated breathing was hot next to your ear, while he kept you still with a gentle yet firm grip and watched you fake pleasure for the camera.
“Wow…” he whispered when your character stepped out of the ridiculously uncomfortable dress to reveal a set of black lingerie.
You had to look away when you saw yourself crawl on top of the middle-aged actor who played the detective. Jisung gulped.
You knew what was coming: An unnecessarily long scene full of close-ups of your tits bouncing with exaggerated screams to appeal to the male audience.
You let out a small whimper. “This is so embarrassing…” you mumbled, defeated.
“Shh. I told you you look good,” Jisung cooed, kissing your shoulder (something he had never done before) to comfort you. “Fuck…”
And that was the first time he ever cursed in front of you. He used to mind his actions and words around you, looking for your approval. But now, after months living together and you giving him everything he asked for and praising him all the time… he was letting loose.
“Oh…” he moaned quietly when you shifted awkwardly and something poked your lower back. He gulped before moving his own hips subtly, but too skillfully to be an accident.
“J-jisung!” you yelped when you finally snapped out of it and twisted your body around with difficulty to look at him. “Wait– No!”
“...No?” he repeated, the word sounding foreign coming from your lips. Since he first became part of your life, you had always told him there were no rules he needed to worry about. You never got mad at him when he accidentally broke something or made a mess in the kitchen. Neither did you deny him any of his requests. You had even gone as far as to promise him that you would give him anything he wanted.
Anything.
One time, he did some research on the most ridiculously costly PC equipment to exist and asked you to buy it for him. Hell, he didn’t even want it, but he wanted to see if you would follow through. You did. No questions asked. You just handed him your credit card and said ‘Sure’ like it was nothing.
And it wasn’t only about money. Whenever he had asked for other things, such as holding hands, cuddling, and napping together, you said yes every time.
Why would you say no to him now? You always let him do whatever he wanted, so what was wrong? He thought you two had a little something going on, even if none of you dared to say it. He had seen your ears turn red whenever he told you you were pretty. He knew you checked him out whenever he walked around with little clothes… that’s why he did it (Haechan’s idea).
He heard your voice crack when you told him to get dressed… and there was that time he was so sure you smelled aroused when he let you feel up the lean muscles he had been working out for.
Was he wrong?
Had he crossed the line?
His eyes went from lidded and dreamy to wide and panicked.
“I mean–” you tried to calm yourself and him down when you saw his expression. “Okay, hold on. Let’s clarify: what do you want exactly?”
He bit his lip and looked down, just like he did when he had first arrived at your home and didn’t trust you enough to speak up.
“I won’t be mad,” you assured him. “You know you can tell me anything, right? Have I ever been mad at you?”
He shook his head slowly.
“See? There’s nothing to be afraid of. Now tell me, what do you want?”
For a few seconds, he was quiet, letting the lewd sounds of the movie fill the room.
Then, he moved his hips only a little, just enough to chaff against your ass. Despite the lack of force, the gesture was clear.
“This,” he mumbled, thrusting again, this time a little harder, to make his point. “... No?” he asked again, like a kid who was being denied a cookie.
You opened your mouth in shock, but no words came out. What were you supposed to say when your cute hybrid, whom you had been secretly checking out, politely asked to hump you while watching a soft porno of you?
…To be fair, it was not his fault that he got hard. The movie was intended for a male audience, and Jisung was, after all, a man. It was your fault for letting him watch it.
If he was turned on because of you… It was only logical to help him feel better, right?
You were just taking responsibility for your mistake.
At least that’s what you told yourself.
It was easier than admitting you were doing it because you finally got some non-platonic physical touch from the man who had been making you feel flustered for weeks.
Instead of replying, you moved, pressing your ass against his hardened shaft and holding in a whimper at how hot it felt.
He gasped, looking down to see the point where thin layers of fabric stopped his cock from entering you.
“S-so… yes?” he asked hopefully. “Master, is that a yes?”
Of course. Your well-behaved hybrid always needed verbal confirmation to be sure.
“Yes,” you whispered. “But only this, ok?”
He sighed, and his hands reached for your hips. He looked back at the screen and kept rutting lazily. “T-thank you… Thank you, master…”
You pressed your thighs together and shut your eyes closed, embarrassed at the entire situation. His tiny gasps were making you so wet you worried you would leave a stain on the sofa. You took a deep breath in. All you had to do was stay still and wait for him to finish… by the way his hips stuttered, you knew it wouldn’t take him long.
“There’s one thing I find stupid about this movie,” he suddenly said, making your heart drop. You weren’t ready for him to tell you how ridiculous you looked now. Thankfully, he said: “That guy. He shouldn’t be part of the scene… he ruins the whole mood.”
You opened your eyes and stared at the still-going sex scene. There it was: a quick cut of your coworker grunting, covered in oil that was supposed to imitate sweat. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“How was I supposed to do that scene then?” you asked. “Should I have just bounced on an empty bed?”
He laughed too. It was the first time you two ever spoke about something like sex…and it was surprisingly chill, if you ignored his dick still humping your ass.
“Honestly? That would have been better,” he snickered, and then he groaned when the camera panned on the man again. “Gross, I don’t wanna see the sweaty dude. Can the camera go back to you?” he whined.
“Then don’t look?” you offered, suddenly feeling playful. “The actress is right here with you. You don’t have to watch the screen to see me.”
The sudden realization hit him.
“Yeah…” he sighed, and he finally stopped watching the dumb movie to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “You’re right here…”
Your warm body against his, and your shampoo-scented hair tickling his cheek, made him feel at home. You were his home.
If he could feel just a little bit more, it would be perfect, he told himself, pausing his movements.
“Jisung?” you asked, trying to control your ragged breathing. You were enjoying yourself a little too much and were disappointed that he stopped… but the disappointment was replaced with a surprised yelp when you felt skin against skin, hot, hard, and wet. His member slid under your shirt. “Oh my god…” you breathed out. “Is that…?”
He hummed, nosing your neck and placing a chaste kiss on it before resuming his swift movements, letting you feel his cock on the bare skin of your lower back. “Master… this is okay too, right? It f-feels amazing…”
How could you say no when he asked like that? When he told you it felt that good? When he was spreading precum on your skin? When he was moaning and calling you ‘master’ with that insanely raspy voice?
“It’s...okay,” you panted and a little moan escaped you, which didn’t go past him.
“I like that sound…” he admitted, his thrusts still slow but sensual. “Can I hear it again?”
“Jisung…” you whined instead, covering your face with your palms, mortified.
“Please, master…” he begged next to your ear. “Please,” he repeated, and then he nibbled on your earlobe, successfully making you release something between a gasp and a moan. He couldn’t stop himself; he let out a small “Ah…!” and spilled on your back, hugging you tightly as his cock twitched.
He sighed and his hands caressed your hips in soothing circles… and then wandered to the hem of your shorts. Your breath got caught in your throat…
And your phone rang.
You jumped up and ran to the shelf where you had left it.
“Hello?” you answered nervously.
“Hey, girl. You busy? Sorry, I just really need your help…” said Vernon’s tipsy voice.
“Uh…” you hesitated, looking back at the disheveled appearance of your hybrid, with rosy cheeks, unfocused eyes, legs spread wide open exposing his…“Nope. Not busy at all. What’s up?”
“Thank god. Hoshi’s wasted, like… dancing on top of the table type of wasted and we can’t convince him to leave with us. But maybe you could? You know how every time he sees you he goes ‘Is this famous actress Y/N L/N?’ and follows you around like a puppy?”
You snorted. “Let me get my keys and I’ll pick you guys up.”
“Oh, no, I was thinking you could just talk to him on the phone. I know you’re having roomie time with Jisung tonight…”
“NO! I mean… it’s totally fine, really. I’ll pick you up!” you insisted, and then turned to Jisung. “J-jisungie, I have to go out for a bit. You don’t need to wait up for me, okay?” you told him, using your acting skills to mask your awkwardness.
“Uh… okay…?” he replied, like he was just waking up from a dream.
You did not convince Hoshi to go home. You didn’t even try. Instead, you joined the party, much to Seungkwan’s frustration, and you tried to make it last as long as you could so that you didn’t have to face Jisung.
You felt guilty when you entered your room at 5 A. M. and saw him hugging your pillow.
“Master…?” He mumbled sleepily when he noticed you, his arms reaching out for you. “You’re back. Did you have fun?”
“Mhm,” you nodded nervously and let him cuddle you, hoping he couldn’t hear your heartbeat.
“Missed you,” he whispered.
“Me too…” You admitted.
That’s what you said, but then why did you start acting so distant after that? Jisung couldn’t understand: you had kissed his cheek, held his hand, cuddled and even let him hump you, but now you had started spending more time outside, coming home late (and sometimes not coming home at all), and sitting as far away from him as possible when you watched your weekly movie.
…Oh god…
Had he crossed the line that night??
You said it was okay.
You gave him permission.
You moaned.
What did he do wrong?
Was it because you didn’t cum or because he didn’t clean you up after he finished?
He was planning on taking care of those things, but you had left so fast–
“Jisungie?” your sweet voice made him jump.
“Y-yeah?”
“I was asking you what you wanted to eat this weekend. The chef is asking so they can prepare the ingredients in advance.”
“We… have a chef now?” he asked, confused. You had the money for a chef, but you preferred to cook your own food, so this was new.
“Uh… just for the weekend. I’m going on a trip, remember? I don’t want you eating more frozen food…”
“Ah… your trip…” he murmured, looking down at his now cold plate of pasta. “Tell them that anything is fine.”
“Are you sure?” you insisted. “You haven’t been eating much lately…”
Your worried tone made him cringe. You sounded like a pet owner again. Like when you first met and you weren’t close. It was almost condescending.
“I’m sure. Have fun,” he said curtly.
It stung. You knew he noticed your absence recently, and it broke your heart to pull away when he hadn’t done anything wrong. You were just awkward and didn’t know how to address… whatever that had been.
“Do you wanna come with me?” you asked before you could think about it.
“What?” he asked, looking up with surprised, wide eyes, but there was a tiny sparkle of hope in them.
“You could come with me. The hotel is fully booked, but my suite is big enough for both of us.”
For a second, he looked excited, but then his ears flattened. “No, it’s ok. I don’t want to bother you.”
No, no, no. You hated this. He was acting like when you first adopted him: nervous and distant.
“What, you wanna bring your girlfriends home while I’m not here? ”
His eyes widened. “NO! I don’t have–” he stopped when he saw you smirking.
“It’s fine,” you faked a sigh. “I guess you don’t wanna be seen with a smoking hot actress.”
He laughed. He finally laughed.
“I don’t know,” he joked, too, catching on. “What would my fans think?”
“I’ll help you prepare your statement for the press,” you shrugged. “I’ve been in all types of scandals.”
He pretended to mull it over. “Is there gonna be a jacuzzi?”
You nodded. “And an open bar.”
“Then I'd better start packing.”
Things were starting to go back to normal. You laughed and held hands during the flight, the awkwardness between you long forgotten. He wasn’t joking about wanting to use a jacuzzi; jumping in it was the first thing he did when you entered the suite, and, after some convincing (him giving you puppy eyes), you joined him.
There was no denying the closeness (and nakedness) brought your nerves back. You had chosen a one-piece swimsuit that didn’t cover as much as you had hoped, and Jisung was staring. You knew because your eyes kept meeting whenever you checked him out too, which was unavoidable when he was shirtless and wet and sitting so close to you. He looked like he belonged to this world, holding a glass of champagne and occasionally munching on some grapes that were on a tray next to the tub.
“So…” you joked, trying to break the ice. “How do you like traveling like the rich do?”
He smirked. “It’s alright. This room is decent. And the company is not too bad.”
“Not too bad?” you scoffed. “Should I be feeding you those grapes myself to be a worthy companion?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
You laughed. “Okay then,” you said, sitting closer and reaching for a grape. “Here, eat this.”
“Ask nicely,” he said, with a fake arrogant tone.
You let out a gasp, playing along. “Jisung!”
He laughed, but the sound got stuck in his throat when you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look your way. You were hovering, almost sitting on his lap, looking into his eyes and pressing a single grape on his lips.
“Open your mouth,” you commanded.
He parted his lips slowly, allowing the fruit to slip into his mouth. He savored it and licked his lips, looking at you with dilated pupils.
“Want another one, your majesty?” you asked sarcastically, relaxing the hand on his jaw to then brush the wet hair out of his face.
He nodded.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, master,” he whispered.
You fed him another one, and he sighed in delight.
“I spoil you too much, Jisungie,” you said, still caressing his hair.
“Love it when you spoil me,” he confessed.
“Do you?” you asked, reaching for another grape.
“Hmm… yes…” he moaned when you scratched his ear.
“Then why are you being such a brat?”
He shook his head. “Never! I’m good–hmph!” he managed to say before another grape was shoved past his lips.
“Is that so? Are you my good boy?”
His eyes almost rolled back at the nickname. “Y-yes…” he said after he swallowed.
You chuckled, reaching for another grape, but he stopped you by gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer.
He was breathing heavily, and you could feel his quick pulse where your hand was pressed on his chest.
“W-what is it, Jisungie?” you asked, noticing your own pulse had accelerated too.
He just gulped and stared at your lips hungrily.
And then you were kissing him. It started with a soft peck, and then you pulled back expectantly to see his reaction. His mouth chased yours unconsciously, and he gave you an equally sweet peck. Then your lips fit together for a kiss that became desperate, between moans and teeth clashing. You caressed his chest, and he whined, hugging your waist to force you onto his lap. He gasps at the weight of your barely covered body on his crotch, and he has to rest his head on the edge of the bathtub because the pleasure mixed with the hot temperature of the water was making him dizzy.
“You okay, baby?” you asked, kissing his jaw.
‘Baby,’ he thought to himself, trying to regain some strength.’That’s me. She’s kissing me’.
“Haa… f-fuck…” he panted. “I’m… okay…”
You hesitated. He looked like he was about to pass out. “Are you sure–?”
Knock knock!
You jumped at the unexpected sound, but Jisung was too preoccupied mouthing your neck between gasps.
“Yes?” you yell towards the door.
“Y/N? Are you guys ready? We were supposed to meet at the lobby 20 minutes ago!” Seungkwan yelled back.
“Fuck,” you murmured. “Wait–hmph!”
Jisung’s lips were on yours again, and when you tried to push him away, he bit your lower lip with a groan.
“No,” he breathed out. “Let’s… stay… haa… here…” he said.
… And then his body went lax.
“Ji?” you called. “Jisung?” you insisted, slapping his cheek gently. “Shit… SEUNGKWAN!” you shrieked, stepping out of the jacuzzi clumsily.
“What?!” he asked from the other side of the door, panic evident in his voice.
You tried to pull Jisung out of the tub, but he was heavy, and he seemed too dazed to cooperate. So you ran to the door and opened it quickly.
“SEUNGKWAN!”
“WHAT. WHAT’S WRONG?” he screamed, holding your arms as soon as he could see you, checking your body for any injury.
“JISUNG!” was all you could say, leading your friend to the jacuzzi. “Help me!!”
You got to the tub right in time to see him sinking in the water. With a shriek, Seungkwan grabbed onto him and, together, you managed to drag him out.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know!” you said honestly.
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“Master…?” Jisung whispered, blinking slowly.
“Oh, my god. Jisungie? I’m here, Jisungie,” you said, holding his hand.
“...Kiss me…more?” he managed to say, with a weak smile.
You blushed and slowly looked up to see your unimpressed friend glaring at you.
“You know what? I don’t wanna know. You have 10 minutes to get ready or I’m going for dinner without you,” he said with a huff before he stood up and left the room.
Jisung was too weak to go out, so you ended up leaving him in bed, with some water and a sports drink. He pouted, but you promised him you wouldn’t be back too late.
“Finally!” Vernon said when you showed up at the lobby. “I’m starving!”
“Sorry! I had to take care of something–”
“Sure you did,” Seungkwan murmured.
“I’m starving too!” you exclaimed with fake excitement. “What should we eat?”
“Thought you ate already,” Seungkwan said sassily.
You sighed. It was going to be an awkward dinner.
“So, you and Jisung are official?” Vernon asked while munching on his food after Seungkwan told him everything despite your pleas.
“Maybe…? I don’t know… We just kissed a little,” you said.
“You got him so worked up he fainted,” Seungkwan said.
“It was his first time in a jacuzzi,” you mumbled.
Vernon snorted. “Sorry, your boy’s cute, but lowkey a loser.”
You and Seungkwan couldn’t help but laugh too.
“He’s adorable,” Seungkwan admitted with a sigh. “He was so sweet, asking her for a kiss when he could barely move. I need to get myself a man like that.”
“I’m literally here?” Vernon ( his manager and boyfriend) countered.
“So you’re not mad at me anymore?” you asked Seungkwan.
“I wasn’t mad at you… you scared the shit out of me, that’s all…” Seungkwan took a sip of his margarita and then he added: “And, well… to be honest, I was afraid you were taking advantage of him…”
The color drained from your face “...What?” you croaked.
“Bro…” Vernon stopped eating and glared at his boyfriend, apprehensively. “What are you even saying?”
“I know! I know she wouldn’t… But you know how things are with hybrids in most cases. Too many of our actor coworkers have adopted hybrids to get them high and use them as fuck toys. I overheard this bitch saying she had given a heat-inducing drug to her cat hybrid to get him to fuck her. The hybrid refused to touch her, so she beat him up and sent him back to the shelter.”
You remained silent and Seungkwan quickly tried to fix it.
“I trust you! We know Jisung too, so we know he’s been crazy about you for a while now. It’s obvious that you both like each other and that your relationship has developed healthily– I just… got startled when I saw him so lost and weak… I’ve seen hybrids looking like that before and it’s always for terrible reasons… How was I supposed to know he got overwhelmed by a kiss and being in a jacuzzi?! What I mean is… Sorry for doubting you, Y/N.”
You nodded slowly. “I get it. I know bad things happen to hybrids adopted by celebrities all the time…”
“Hey, Y/N,” Vernon said, reaching for your hand. “You are not like those people. Jisung is very happy with you, okay?”
Seungkwan nodded.
You smiled timidly. You knew what Jisung and you had was consensual. He was happy and he made you happy, so everything was okay.
“Weird question, does Jisung have heats?” Vernon asked casually.
You choked on your drink. “I don’t… know? I don’t think so…”
“Ok, cool. Just curious,” he shrugged, calling the waiter to order another round.
You got back to the hotel a little later than expected and Jisung was sleeping comfortably on the bed. You climbed on it quietly, not wanting to wake him up, but as soon as you lay down with your back towards him, he hugged your waist gently.
“Missed you,” he whispered, like he did every time you came back to him too late at night.
“Missed you too,” you replied. “...Hey, Ji… Can I ask you something?”
He hummed.
“Do you ever… go into heat?”
He tensed behind you.
“N-no… female hamsters do, though. Us males are sensitive to the females’ heat…”
“Oh…” you replied. Well, you weren’t a female hamster, so you probably had no effect–
“In your case…” he continued, folding under zero pressure. “I g-guess I’m a little sensitive to your uh…ovulation?”
“Oh,” you repeated dumbly. “...I’m ovulating now…”
“...I know…”
“How does it affect you?” you asked hoarsely.
“...Makes me wanna… do things…” he murmured.
“W-what things?”
For a few seconds he didn’t reply. Just when you were about to tell him to forget you asked and go to sleep, he pulled you closer.
“If I tell you… will you let me do those things?”
“...Yeah…”
He gulped before he stuttered. “W-wanna do that thing we did…”
“Kissing?”
You felt him shake his head. “ That too, but I mean—The thing we did… when we watched your movie…”
“Oh… Dry humping?” you asked, grazing his crotch with your ass. “Like this?”
“Hmm… y-yes,” he nodded. “B-but… can you turn around?” he asked nervously.
You swallowed a mortified groan. Yes, you were kissing with little clothes in the jacuzzi earlier, but that had been spontaneous. This was slower, which gave you more time to overthink what was happening.
“No?” he asked softly. “You don’t want to…?”
“I do!” you said quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “I’ll… I’ll turn around…” you mumbled, clumsily turning to face his expectant pretty face. You looked into each other’s eyes as he carefully placed his palm on the small of your back, moving his hips to meet yours. You gasped when his clothed member grazed your clit.
“Like this it feels good for you too, right?” He asked hopefully.
You nodded, moving your body experimentally to match his movements and he let out the tiniest moan.
“Can I kiss you?” he panted, dangerously close to your mouth, his question a mere fromallity. “You said… haa… I c-can…”
You couldn’t bring yourself to form a coherent answer so you fulfilled his wish and kissed him. He sighed shakily and kissed you back, snapping his hips against your crotch. Though the stimulation was more than gratifying, the position was a little awkward. At least that’s what you assumed went through Jisung’s mind when he grabbed your leg and pulled it over his waist, allowing for a better angle.
You let out a surprised moan and he halted his thrusts and kisses.
“S-sorry, I should have asked…” he swallowed and spoke with difficulty. “Can I…uh… touch your leg?” he asked, but is fingertinps were digging into your thigh, unconsciously refusing to let go. “I uh… understand if you wanna stop… though I really hope you don’t because I really like doing these things with you—” his incoherent explanation was cut short by his shocked gasp when you flipped both of you so he was on his back with you on top.
He looked like the perfect prey like that. His glossy eyes widened, his mouth slightly ajar letting out aroused little sounds, disheveled hair and ears perked up expectantly. His hands rested on each side of his head obediently, not daring to touch anything until you explicitly allowed it.
“Shh, Ji…” you breathed out, trying to regain some composure. “There’s nothing to be anxious about. Have I ever been mad at you?”
He shook his head quickly.
“Good boy,” you praised sweetly, feeling his clothed cock twitch under you. “Just enjoy this, okay?” you instructed.
He tried to nod, but as soon as you started gyrating your hips slowly he became a babbling mess again. “M-master… yes, master…”
You chuckled. “You keep calling me that, even in this situation?”
“Huh?” he asked dumbly.
“When are you gonna call me by my name?”
The red in his face became darker and he shook his head energetically. “I c-could never… disrespect you– ah! Like…that… haa…”
“Using me for pleasure is not disrespectful?” you teased.
He gasped, trying to sit up, but you pushed him back, placing your hands on his chest and rutting faster.
“AH! M-mast— so sorry… not using…haa.. I’m n-not using y- Oh!”
“Aren’t you?”
“No! Haa… haa… p-please, I– I respect you, I–Hmm… I love you so mu–Aaah!”
You almost lost your balance at the last sentence. You stopped moving and he whimpered.
“Master…” he sobbed, having his orgasm stolen from him. “I’ll b-be good, please don’t stop… don’t…”
You could think about his spontaneous confession later. First you really needed to see your beautiful hybrid cum. So you started moving again, this time grinding hard.
He arched his back. “Haa! Haa… Thank you… Master, thank y–Aah! Ah… haa… ah…”
The view was beautiful: His veiny hands held onto the wrinkled sheets, and tears threatened to escape his eyes as he trashed under you, overwhelmed by pleasure. Something seemed to switch in his brain in these circumstances, because the usually timid hybrid, couldn’t stop running his mouth.
“S-so good… master’s warmth feels… ooh… amazing…” he mumbled as he tried to focus his dazed eyes on where your crotches made contact. “Ooh… yes, yes… h-harder…”
“A-are you trying to tell me what to do?” you asked, making a poor atempt of a dominant tone.
“No! Sorry, sorry…” he yelped, panicking. “I d-didn’t mean too… I’m just… so close…”
“Yeah?” you gulped, ignoring the constant pulsing feeling on your clit. “Wanna cum?”
He nodded. “Please?”
You kissed him lovingly so he wouldn’t see you smiling like an simp, and then you bounced on him harder, like he wanted.
“Ah! Ah! Oh… Oooh you’re so good to me, m-aah… master… haa….” he managed to say in between fervent kisses. “Gonna cum… f-fuck… master, I’m gonna cum…”
You gasped when at the new wetness in your pajama pants as he came with a silent moan, his cock and whole body spasming with pleasure. You slowed down, riding him slowly to help him come down from his high, caressing his face and kissing the tears away.
“How are you feeling?” you asked when he calmed down a little.
“Did… did you cum?” he croaked, instead of answering your question.
You chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Jisungie,” you said getting up.
“Wait!” he said, fighting the dizziness to sit up. “Let’s keep going.”
You looked at his trembling figure and couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Jisung… You can’t keep going. You’re still too weak from what happened in the jacuzzi.”
He whined. “Please, come back here.”
You ignored his request to go get him a wet towel and change of clothes. When you came back, he kissed your neck to get you in the mood again, but you pushed him away gently. “Ji.”
“I just wanna make you cum,” he pouted. “I can use my fingers. You like my fingers, right? You always stare at my hands.”
You cleared your throat. “You have nice hands,” you conceded. “But they are shaking. It’s not that I don’t want you Jisung, but you need to rest. We can try another time.”
“Tomorrow,” he suggested quickly.
“I have a busy day tomorrow,” you reminded him.
“Then when?”
“I… I don’t know. Next time.”
His pouty face was adorable, so you giggled and kissed his cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up, ok?”
“I can do it myself,” he mumbled, grabbing the towel. “You’ve already done way more than I deserve tonight.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Ji,” you laughed, walking to the restroom to shower. “If it makes you feel better, I was really close.” you said before getting in and closing the door.
Jisung stared at the restroom door blankly and then he groaned. That actually had made him feel worse. So that night he went to bed with a plan: giving you the most mindblowing orgasm as soon as you woke up. Exept that next morning you woke up before he did, leaving him alone with a note and a tray with breakfast on the nightstand.
Immediately he reached for his phone and called you.
“Morning, Ji!” you answered cheerfully.
“M-morning. Where are you?”
“I had to meet with the director this morning.” you explained. “Now I’m having brunch with Vernon, waiting for Seungkwan to finish with his hair appointment.”
“Can I join?” he asked, starting to get out of bed.
“Oh, Jisungie… We have more meetings scheduled today. You know my new movie is coming up.”
“Oh… Yeah, I get it,” he murmured. “Then when can I see you?”
“I’ll drop by before the the event at night to change clothes! I’m so sorry I didn’t take you anywhere fun…”
“No,” he said quickly. “It’s ok. You’re here for work. I’m grateful enough you brought me along… and I got to try a jacuzzi, though it didn’t go as planned,” he joked. “I’ll see you later, then,” he added before he hung up.
He munched on his breakfast unenthusiastically as he came to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t get to spend time with you on this trip. He didn’t lie when he said he was grateful, but in the back of his brain there was a distant voice saying that maybe being a hybrid sucked. He huffed, pushing that thought away. He had no excuse to be bitter: last night you had literally made him cum so hard his fingertips kept tingling in the morning. So he would take what he could, and if that meant he had to stay in the room and watch a boring TV show while you were at some fancy event with handsome actors, then so be it.
But much to his surprise, there was a change of plans.
“Get up! You need to get ready,” you said energetically as soon as you walked in that evening.
“Huh? Ready for what?” he asked, turning the TV off.
“You’re coming to the event with me!” you exclaimed, showing him an expensive looking black suit.
He just looked at the suit, speechless.
“You don’t like it? I bought the black one because I wasn’t sure you would feel comfortable with other colors…”
“N-no! I mean, yes, it’s nice…” he said.
“But?” you asked apprehensively.
“Is it really okay for me to go? I thought it was only for actors…”
“Well…yes, but I asked the host and they said you could come… But if you feel uncomfortable, you don’t have to come. I just felt bad I didn’t get to spend much time with you, and we’re leaving tomorrow…”
“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable!” he assured you, though his voice cracked. The idea of attending such an event made him a little anxious, but that meant he would be with you. “I want to go with you.”
“Yaay!” you jumped a little and kissed his cheek, giving him his new clothes and rushing him into the restroom. “I’ll change clothes too. We need ot be ready by 8, okay?”
“Okay!” he yelled back from the restroom, trying to match your cheerful tone, but god was he getting nervous, but god was he getting nervous at the thought of spending the night surrounded by rich and successful men who could steal you away. Actually, now that he thought about it, that was a good reason to go with you: to ensure your safety and that no other man than him (and Seungkwan and Vernon, because he knew them. And maybe that Hoshi guy, because he saw the video of him drunk and he seemed like a decent guy) would approach you. That would be his mission…
Which he forgot all about when he stepped out to see you wearing a a long backless dress.
“You’re so beautiful…” he blurted out.
“Ji… Wow… You… Do you know how hot you look right now?” you replied.
“I… look hot?!” he asked, astonished. You had called him cute a thousand times, but never hot. Holy shit.
“Yeah… I don’t think I want other actresses to see you now,” you teased.
“Then we could stay here,” he suggested.
“Nice try,” you laughed. “Let’s go. The guys are waiting.”
“You brought Jisung?!” Seungkwan hissed when he saw you two at the lobby. “Are you insane?!”
“It was my idea,” Vernon said.
Seungkwan couldn’t believe his ears. “And you thought this idea of yours was… good?”
Jisung’s ears flattened. “Sorry, I can go back to my room…”
“No!” Seungkwan said quickly. “Nothing against you, Jisung. You look fantastic by the way. I just worry about your safety.”
“My safety?”
“He’ll be fine,” Vernon said, rolling his eyes. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Baby,” in spite of the nickname, there was no sweetness in Seungkwan’s voice. “This is like introducing a girl to a forum of incel gamers, or a child TO THE VATICAN CHURCH!”
“I’ll keep him safe!” you said quickly, hushing your friend. “And we’ll stay for an hour at most.”
Jisung liked that plan. He could do an hour at a boring event. If he was lucky, you wouldn’t be too sleepy and you two could continue what you had started the night before. But one hour felt like an eternity when everybody was looking at him. Jisung kind of understood… he was after all the only one with fluffy ears. It hadn’t crossed his mind that he would be the only hybrid, and even if it had, he wouldn’t have thought it was an issue, because you had never treated him differently for it. Everything was so natural with you, he forgot that not everyone saw him… as a person.
“Jisung?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Hm?”
“I asked if you would be okay if I left you alone for a minute. The director wants to introduce me to someone.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. I’m fine,” he said, fighting the need to cling onto your arm and beg you not to leave him alone. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden while you were working.
You squeezed his hand and bit your lip. You knew him well enough to know he was not okay. “Wait here. I’ll go get one of the guys to stay with you, okay? Don’t move,” you instructed, walking away quickly to find your friends.
Jisung nodded and mentally thanked you. At least he would be with someone he knew. All he had to do was avoid strangers for 1 minute–
“What a cute little thing,”a sultry voice said behind him.
He jumped and turned around nervously. “Pardon me?”
“Your ears are adorable,” a woman in a red dress said, smiling at him.
He tensed. He wasn’t sure if she was complimenting him or laughing at him. But he had to behave.
“Thank you,” he said, hoping the conversation would end there.
“What are you?” the woman asked casually, taking a sip of his cocktail.
“...What?”
“What type of hybrid are you?” she clarified, scanning him, looking at his behind to look for, what he thought, was the small tail he was hiding under his clothes.
Jisung was sure what she was doing was considered rude. But again, he chose to be civile. “A cricetulus barabensis,” he said. “A hamster,” he paraphrased at the woman’s confused face.
“Oh! Delectable!” he exclaimed. “I’ve never tried one of those!”
“Uh…” Jisung looked around, looking for you or the guys, or anyone that wasn’t this lady really.
“Are you here with someone? Or did the host hire you?” she continued.
“Hire me?”
“Oh, you know,” she laughed. “For the after party,” she whispered into his ear. She either didn’t notice how uncomfortable he was or she didn’t care.
“No one hired me,” he said, taking a step back and trying to keep calm. “I’m here with my master.”
“Master? Oh, my!” she gasped and placed a hand on her chest. “I never got that bastard to call me that. You’re very well-behaved.”
Jisung didn’t know what to reply to that, so he gave her a short nod.
“I’m sure you keep your owner very satisfied,” she continued.
That got Jisung’s attention. He wasn’t loving the conversation, but he still felt bad about not making you cum the night before. “I…try to…” he said.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed. “It’s hard to know how to please someone at first, isn’t it?”
Jisung wasn’t sure they were talking about the same topic. And if they did, then he wasn’t sure it was okay to discuss it in public so casually. Still, he nodded.
“If they return you, you could always come home with me,” she offered.
“Return me…?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“Don’t feel too bad about it, sweetheart,” she said, grazing over his arm. “Some hybrids are not compatible with their owners. We acquire you because you have needs, and if those needs aren’t satisfied, then it’s for the best to end the agreement,” she explained.
Needs. Satisfied.
You had given Jisung everything for months, and he hadn’t made you cum once. He wanted to throw up.
“Oh, dear, you don’t look too well. Let me get you a drink–”
“Back off, Camilla. He’s taken,” Vernon’s voice said, standing between the two.
She laughed. “You and Boo got a new toy?”
Instead of engaging, Vernon grabbed Jisung and walked away. “You okay?” he asked.
Jisung shook his head, so Vernon took him outside to get some air.
“Did she do something to you?” he asked once the hybrids cheek recovered their natural color.
“No…”
“Did she say something, then?”
Jisung shook his head. “She was just…weird, I guess…”
“She’s batshit crazy, that one,” Vernon agreed. “She returned her last hybrid.”
Jisung gulped. Returned.
“Guys!” you called. Jisung’s ears perked up immediately and he almost smiled, but then he saw you accompanied by a muscular guy who was too close to his liking. The annoying voice in Jisung’s head told him that such a man could surely satisfy you and wouldn’t be returned… because humans don’t get returned. The man told you something and hugged you before going back inside, and you made your way to your friend and your hybrid.
“Jisungie, are you okay? Vernon texted me–”
“I wanna leave,” Jisung said curtly. “Please,” he added, because he didn’t mean to snap at you.
You stared at him in shock, and then looked at Vernon, who gave you a sympathetic smile.
“I’ll call us a taxi,” you said, dialing on your phone.
“Thank you,” Jisung said in spite of the rage he was feeling. Because he was your good hybrid. He was well-behaved.
The ride to the hotel was uncomfortably quiet. You could tell Jisung wansn’t ready to talk about it yet, so you didn’t ask him anything, giving him space to cool down. You sighed, relieved when he grabbed your hand once you got off the vehicle, but his touch wasn’t the usual gentle one. He was holding your hand firmly, almost posessively, as he dragged you to the suite.
What was even more out of character was that once you both were in the suite he was all over you, not in a sweet cuddly way, but in a feral way. He had you pinned on the door, kissing you, devouring you like he owned you.
“Ji…haa… w-what…?” you stuttered, bewildered at the sudden change.
“Gonna make you cum,” he declared, nibbling on your neck.
“Hold on…” you hesitated. Where was this coming from?
“Shh…”
“J-jisung… Are you drunk?” you whisper-shouted, trying to put some distance between you.
He scoffed. “I wish. If I was drunk I wouldn’t be so pissed.”
“Why are you angry with me?” you asked, nervously.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, reminding himself that you hadn’t done anything wrong. “I’m not angry with you. Okay?” he waited until you nodded to continue caressing your body, sucking on your collarbones like he was starving. But right when he slid his hand under your dress, you stopped him.
“W-wait. Let me take care of you,” you offered. You had good intentions. Something was clearly bothering him, so you thought he needed some relief. Naturally, you would be happy to help him get that relief, but you didn’t get the reaction you were expecting.
The hybrid who would normally fold and beg for your touch looked furious. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them over your head with one hand, while the other continued its way into your panties, immediately getting his fingers soaked.
“Jisung!” you moaned.
“Feels good?” he asked, collecting your wetness to rub on your clit.
Your legs shook and you bit your lip.
“Tell me, master. I need to know how to please you,” he commanded.
You nodded urgently.
“Use your words,” he spoke through gritted teeth, suddenly inserting his middle finger inside, while still caressing your clit with his thumb.
“F-fuh…fuck!” you sobbed. “Feels good…ah…Jisungie…”
“See? You could have been using me all this time.”
“Wha– AH!” You screamed when he slid two fingers inside of you.
“Turns out everyone’s been banging their hybrids like blow-up dolls except you, huh?” he muttered more to himself than to you, fingering you at a pace that was bringing you close to your climax embarrassingly fast. “First you let me cum on your back and then you treat me like a baby. What the fuck are we even doing?”
“I wanted… oh… wanted t-to take care of y-you…”
“Can’t I take care of you too?” he asked, rhetorically. More like a challenge. Not like you could reply when you could taste your orgasm.
“Jisungie…” you breathed out.
“Shit, that’s it… gonna cum?”
You moaned the most erotic ‘yeah’ he had ever heard, so he had to remind himself that he was trying to make you cum so that he wouldn’t release a load in his new pants.
“Let go,” he commanded, though he sounded out of breath. “Cum nice and hard on my fingers, yeah?”
You did. You even hit the back of your head with the door when you threw your head back because of the intensity of your orgasm. You kicked your legs and moaned pathetically as Jisung kept playing with your clit. He was dazzled feeling you squeeze his fingers like you couldn’t get enough. You really came while he was fingering you. He made you cum.
He let out a long, relieved breath, took his hand out of your panties carefully and let go of your wrists so he could hug you delicately.
“...Are you okay?” he asked, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“I’m… okay…” you breathed out, hugging him back. “Are you okay?”
He shrugged. “Sorry I was mean…”
“You weren’t mean,” you assured him. “Just… different. But I need to know what happened.”
He didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew you deserved to know why he had gone full beast mode on you. “Heard someone saying hybrids got adopted for…sex… got a little nervous that I wans’t being really useful… and you would send me back….”
“WHAT?” you shrieked, pushing his shoulders just enough to see his face. “I did not adopt you to be my fuck toy.”
“I know,” he said simply. “I just needed some reassurance.”
“Oh, Ji,” you cooed, kissing him with utter devotion. “I would never send you back.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” you said, bringing him close again for a hug. After a minute of silence and you scratching his nape, he spoke again:
“Did you actually cum?”
You bursted out laughing. “Yes. I did. Thank you for that.”
He raised his head and looked at you with a barely contained smile.
“Can I see?” he asked.
“...See what?”
“What I did,” he replied naturally, letting his hands find the hem of your dress to lift it again.
“NO!” you yelled as a reflex.
He halted, looking at you in surprise. “...No?”
“I mean…” you laughed nervously. “Jisungie… Why do you wanna see that?”
He tilted his head. “Can’t I?”
“It’s just embarrassing…”
“Why? Didn’t I do that?”
“Well…yes, but–”
“Did you lie?” he asked. “You didn’t cum?”
“I’ve never lied to you, Ji. But even if you looked, you wouldn’t know if I came or not,” you pointed out, laughing at his ridiculous request. But he wasn’t laughing.
“So… no?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Great, now you made him sad. He was happy just a second ago and you took that away because of your shyness.
“Fine,” you said. “Just a quick look, and don’t say anything embarrassing.”
He nodded and quickly dropped to his knees.
“Hold this, please,” he said, handing you the wrinkled fabric of your dress. You wanted to hide under a rock, but he looked so excited you obeyed.
“Don’t push them together, master,” he whined, pushing your thighs open. “How am I going to see?”
“Just hurry up,” you urged him.
“Wow…” he breathed out, tracing your panties with his fingertip. “These are ruined…”
“What did I say about saying embarrassing stuff– AH!”
Your legs almost gave out when he licked you over the thin wet fabric with a soft ‘Mmm’.
“J-jisungie… haa…” he seemed to be ignoring you, because he suddenly sucked on your clit through your panties. “JISUNG!” you shrieked, letting go of the dress to pull his hair and get him off you.
He looked at you innocently. “What?”
“You said you would only look,” you reminded him.
“So I can’t taste you?”
“I’m not saying you can’t… I’m saying now is not the time–”
“I told you I loved you last night,” he said out of the blue.
Your jaw dropped open. “Uh…that…” so he meant it? He wasn’t just pussy drunk?
“You didn’t say it back,” he added.
“I… I do love you, Jisung. I just didn’t find the right moment to say it.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to hurt my feelings.
“No, of course not! I love you, Ji,” you insisted.
“Okay…” he murmured, though he didn’t sound convinced. “So… you won’t let me taste you?” he asked dejectedly.
It always broke you when he gave you those eyes. Hesitantly, you let go of his hair, and pulled your dress up again. “Just a little, okay?”
“Okay,” he said more enthusiastically, but when he was grazing your crotch he chuckled. Then he looked up at you with a smile. It was his usual sweet smile, but there was something else there. His eyes had a tiny spark of…mischief? “You’re right, master,” he said. “You spoil me too much,” he said before pulling your panties to the side and attaching his mouth to your pussy, lapping greedily.
“FUCK! Ji… aaah!” you gasp. He chuckled, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
Did he just… manipulate you?? He had never done that be– Oh… or had he? Come to think of it, the interaction seemed familiar. Whenever you were about to deny him something, he looked incredibly hurt and worded your denial in a way that made you sound like a monster. He started with small, insignificant things, and made use of your promise to give him anything he wanted, until he had you like this. Not that you didn’t want him like this, but… fuck, you really had turned him into a spoiled brat.
“Wait, Jisungie– Ngh! I’m still sensi…haa… sensitive… it hurts… gently, b-baby, please.”
He listened, licking around your clit instead of on it to give you the chance to catch your breath.
“Oh! That’s it, baby. That’s a good boy.”
He hummed and nodded, accidentally stimulating you too much again. You hissed.
“Gently,” you reminded him with a gasp and he whined, but obeyed, once again circling your clit slowly. And then he had an idea: he opened his mouth wide and his tongue lolled out lazily, then he grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed you forward, bumping your clit on his hot tongue.
“Jisungie,” you moan and he looks into your eyes, mouth still hanging open. He gave your thighs another push, giving you another wave of pleasure.
“Do you want me to move, Ji?” you asked breathlessly.
He nodded, tongue lolled out like a thirsty puppy, waiting patiently for you to fuck yourself on his mouth.
You moved carefully, and god did it feel good. You could apply the right amount of pressure to make it pleasurable and not painful. You sighed, moving your hips slowly and enjoying his soft tongue caressing your bundle of nerves.
“Fuck… a– ah!”
You felt it again. A new orgasm was approaching. Jisung must have known it too, because he grabbed onto your ass cheeks and pressed you firmly against his face, groaning and sucking, forgetting all previous instructions.
“Ji– Oh! AH! Slow– slowly, g-gently haa.. Haaa. JISUNG!” you tried to reason, ultimately letting go of the ruined dress to grab onto his hair.
That only spurred him on more, making him moan and move his head up and down. Eventually, you switched from hair pulling, to pushing his head closer, renouncing to all dignity as you humped his face desperately.
Your legs trembled and your body almost folded over him when you reached your climax. He moaned like he had been the one cumming, drinking up your release desperately until you had to gently push him away, sliding down the door and landing on the floor in front of him.
He looked absolutely sinful, with his face covered with your cum as he giggled. You slapped his arm weakly.
“What the fuck was that?” you croaked.
“You didn’t like it?” he asked, giving you his best puppy eyes. But it was hard to unsee what he was doing once you discovered the trick.
“You’re a menace,” you simply replied.
“But you love me,” he smiled, kissing you and allowing you to taste yourself. “And my fingers,” he added between pecks. “And especially my tongue.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Can’t wait to try your dick.”
“On it,” he said, standing up and helping you stand up too, too then picking you up effortlessly and carrying you to the bed. It was crazy how strong hybrids were. They could take over the world if they wanted… No, let’s not imagine revolutionary apocalyptic scenarios right now… More importantly:
“I was joking!” you yelped when you landed on the mattress. “I didn’t mean now!”
He climbed on top of you. “So… No?”
“Stop that!” you slapped his arm again. “You know I can’t say no to you!”
He laughed, undoing his belt. “You can,” he said, pulling his pants and underwear down to reveal a long, veiny, beautiful cock. “But you don’t want to.”
“And you’ve been using that to your advantage,” you teased.
“Yeah,” he smiles shamelessly. “I guess I have–Ngh!”
He tensed when your hand grabbed his cock.
“My pretty boy,” you cooed, giving him a few strokes. “Can I lick it?”
“S-shit, wait, master– No!” he exclaimed, quickly pushing your hand away.
You blinked.
“Ha! So now you are saying no to me?” you laughed.
“I’m sorry, master,” he whined. “I’m too close already…”
“I don’t mind…” you said, trying to touch him again, but he gently grabbed your hand again and intertwined your fingers.
“I do,” he murmured. “I was kinda thinking… I could uh… be inside you…”
You clenched around nothing. Just thinking about it was enough to have you ready to go again.
“W-would that be okay?” he asked, mistaking your silence for hesitation.
“I would love that, Jisungie,” you smiled at him, pecking his lips gently. “Lie down and let me take care of you, yeah?”
“...No.”
You scoffed.
“Jisung, how–?”
“I wanna be on top,” he said. It was supposed to sound assertive, but his voice trembled.
“Oh…” you gulped. “Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“Okay,” you breathed out, caressing his arms reassuringly. “But if you get tired…”
“I won’t,” he whined like a kid being embarrassed in front of his friends. “I can do this.”
You chuckled. “Okay then,” you said, spreading your legs and allowing him to position himself between them. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” he said, holding his cock and placing it on your entrance.
You closed your eyes, bracing yourself, but it never went in.
“Ji?” you asked after what could have been an entire minute.
“Y-yeah?”
“Are you gonna put it in or…?”
“I… don’t think it will… fit…” he trailed off.
You burst out laughing, and he looked at you offendedly.
“Ok, you are big,” you admitted. “But you’re not that big.”
“But you look… small down there…” he said.
“It stretches,” you deadpanned.
“I know that!” he defended himself. “But what if I hurt you?”
“Jisung,” you sighed. “If you don’t put it in yourself, I’ll flip us over and fuck myself on it.”
He groaned, squeezing the base of his cock. “That would be so hot,” he said.
“Then let me do it?!” you suggested, running out of patience.
“No! I get to be on top!”
“Then fuck me–Ah!” you yelped when Jisung pushed in.
He hissed. “M-master… you need to relax. It hurts…”
“Easy f-for you to say,” you whined. “No one shoved a monster inside of you…”
He whined too. “You said I wasn’t that big!”
“No big deal… haaa… I c-can take you…” you insisted.
“... You sure?”
“Y-yeah…” you sighed, almost fully used to the girth.
“Can I push the rest in, then?” he asked with a pained voice.
“... The what?” you asked dumbly.
“The… rest?”
“The rest of what?”
“Of… me…?”
“You’re kidding,” you half sobbed, half laughed. “That’s not all of you?”
He gulped. “... No…”
“Holy shit…”
“I– I’ll pull out,” he said quickly.
“No! Don’t you dare, Jisung!” you warned him, circling his hips with your legs. “Finish what you started.”
He gasped when the sudden movement accidentally made him shove himself fully inside of you. His forearms landed on each side of your face, caging you under him and he peppered your face with loving pecks as you sobbed.
“S-sorry, master… Aaah…” he tried his best to apologize, but it was hard to feel truly sorry when your walls squeezed him so deliciously. “Fuuuck, you–ah… You feel so good– please… haa… c-can I move?”
You took a deep breath in and exhaled as you calmed down. Finally, you nodded.
“G-go slowly…”
You sighed, relieved, and nodded, but contrary to what he had agreed on, he started fucking you at a brutal pace from the start.
A choked moan left your mouth. Your nails scratched his arms and back in an attempt to ground yourself as he fucked your brains out.
“Ji– Ah! Haa.. Jisung!” you gasped out when you finally found your voice. “Slowly. B-baby… go slow– Stop!”
He halted, breathless, his arms flexed as he held his weight while hovering over you. His wild eyes seemed to regain some of their original spark. He blinked and stared at you innocently.
“O-oh… yes, slow…” he nodded. “Sorry, I don’t know why–”
“It’s okay,” you said, quickly. “Let’s try again?”
He nodded, leaning in for a tender kiss. You kissed him back with a satisfied sigh, but it turned into a shocked gasp when he once again started to jackrabbit into you like his life depended on it.
“Haah! Ah! Ah! Ooh! Ji! Jisungie, s-stop!” you exclaimed.
He once again obeyed. He sat up and looked into your eyes with the same feral glint he had a moment ago. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion at his own actions.
“I… I think I can’t?” he breathed out, sounding unsure.
“You can’t what?” you asked, out of breath too.
“Go slow… I can’t f-fuck you slow, master…” he said, fighting his hips' urge to snap into you again.
“...What do you mean you can’t?” you asked, astonished.
“I think it’s…” he gulped. “... A hybrid thing?”
You tilted your head. “I've never heard of hybrids having that problem…”
“It may be my breed…” he said, blushing. “Actually, I don’t know what it is… but even though I’m thinking about doing it slowly… my body just… doesn’t do it?”
“So…” you said, trying to process this information. “You’re saying… that you can only fuck me like a madman?”
He was as red as a tomato. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “You won’t make me stop, right?” he asked, like the idea was terrifying for him. “Master, please,” he begged, making you shiver as his hands went up and down your still-dressed torso, landing on your breasts and playing with them obsessively. “Don’t make me stop, hmm? I’ll be good,” he promised, toying with your hardening nipples. “Yeah? You’ll let me do this?” he asked, thrusting once, twice, and then quickly gaining a harsh pace again. “P-please, mast–aah!” he kept begging like he wasn’t already doing whatever he wanted. Like he didn’t know he could get away with anything.
“F-fuck, ah! You’re s—aaah! So spoiled,” you spoke through gritted teeth, biting back the moans he elicited from you.
He nodded with a dumb smile. He took it as a compliment, because he was this way because of you. “Mmyeah… haaa, ah, ah…”
“F-feels good,” he moans, pushing you into the bed with each thrust. “You feel s-ooh!! So good, so good, so good,” he repeated like a mantra, welcoming the pleasurable feeling.
“Is t-that haa… why you’re using… mmm… me like a… toy?” you teased.
He shook his head with a gasp. “N-nooo,” he sobbed. “Not using you…Ngh! Wanna make y-you… cum too, please master…”
“Want m-me to cum?”
He nodded, digging his fingers into your hips to keep you in place to take him. “Please?”
You were so close he didn’t have to beg like that. Still, you decided to put on a little show for him, sucking onto two of your fingers to then slowly lower them until you reached your clit, rubbing it slowly under his hungry gaze.
With how good he was pressing all the right spots inside of you, and the added stimulation from your fingers, you came instantly. Your back arched, and you were sure you were crosseyed, but you felt too good to be embarrassed about it.
“Yes!” he gasped, crazed by desire. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck—Aah!” he let out a weak moan. His entire body trembled when his orgasm hit him. All strength left his body, and he lay on top of you, hugging you and kissing your sweaty skin with a sob. “I love you so much…”
“I…haa… love you too…” you said. Your entire body was still tingling.
“That felt so good…” he whispered to himself in awe.
“Yeah…” you admitted. “Wow…”
“...Can you be on top now?” he suddenly asked.
“Now?!” you shrieked. “You wanna go again?”
“You… don’t want to?” he asked pitifully, looking at you with sad eyes. There it was again. He was going to be the death of you.
“I can’t feel my legs, Jisung,” you replied. “Next time.”
fighting for gamer!jisung’s attention. minors do not interact.
wc: 1.7k
pairing: jisung x fem!reader ft. mark and jeno
a/n: this was again, in the drafts but I sorta rewrote it… though I don’t really like it too much… but I hope you guys enjoy it maybe! this is just in the meantime while I work on the pt.2 of my haechan fic!! meow :3
Jisung had been gaming with Mark and Jeno for a couple of hours now and you were beginning to feel impatient. You hadn’t seen him in days and now you’re here on his bed, listening to the constant clicking of the controller in his hands and the occasional banter into his headset microphone.
You can't help but roll your eyes hearing the laughter leaving Jisung's lips, wishing it was you who had his attention. Sighing, you push yourself up from his bed, walk over to where he’s sitting and softly tap his shoulder. He quickly glances at you and with a soft smile, opens up his arms, allowing you to comfortably straddle him on his chair.
As you get yourself comfortable on top of him, he innocently places his head on your shoulder to continue playing his game. Taking a deep breath, the dull scent of Jisung’s cologne along with the heat radiating from his body has you feeling slightly dizzy.
While cuddling him, a thought crosses your mind. Something you know you probably shouldn’t do but it might make Jisung give you the attention you so desperately crave. So, before you can truly think it through, you’re already starting to place soft kisses to his neck.
You feel him tense up for a moment before a soft sigh leaves his lips. Being so close, you can hear “defeat” coming from his headset along with Jeno and Mark instantly beginning to complain. With the game over, you take the opportunity to become a bit bolder, slightly grinding down on him. Jisung drops his controller on his desk and instantly sucks in a sharp breath that does not go unheard by his friends.
“You good, Ji?” Mark questions. You see the blush rising on Jisung’s face even with the harsh blue light of his monitor and it pulls a soft giggle from you. “I’m fine, just stretching.” He lies, his low eyes locking with yours.
“What are you doing?” He mouths at you so the microphone doesn’t pick it up. You pull his headset off of one eye and lean in to whisper, “I wanna play too.”
You don’t say anything else and lean back with a smile on your face while fixing his headphones. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something in return but you don’t let him as you grab his jaw and push your lips together. Jisung doesn’t fight you, quickly melting into the kiss while placing a hand on your waist and letting it linger there for a moment.
“Jisung? HELLO?” Jeno and Mark are basically yelling into the microphone. Dazed from the kiss, Jisung hums in response. “The match started man, what are you doing?” Jeno laughs. “Oh shit, my bad.” Jisung’s eyes widen as he quickly sits up and grabs the controller from his desk. You curse Jeno and the game for interrupting the attention you were finally receiving.
That wasn’t stopping you, though. You go back to slowly grinding down, trying your best to bite back a whimper at the slight friction. You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you feel your panties stick to your folds.
Glancing over at Jisung, you see his eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched and his breathing has picked up. This is enough to keep you motivated as you drag a hand down to his cock to palm him through his sweatpants.
“Oh fuck.” Jisung softly whispers, clenching his eyes shut at the sensation before trying to bring his focus back to the game. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth in hopes to hold back any sounds that may slip out into the microphone. You can’t help but smile to yourself at the sight. You continue to softly drag your hand up and down on his now hard bulge, feeling the slightest damp spot appear underneath your fingers.
You keep this up for a while before you hear another “defeat” come from the headset. Knowing the game is over, you take this moment to get off Jisung’s lap. He looks up at you with desperate yet questioning eyes but quickly understands once he sees you pulling off your shorts. You pull at his waistband, motioning him to do the same and he very swiftly pulls his sweatpants off, not wasting any time.
“No underwear?” You snicker quietly. His face flushes and doesn’t respond. You climb back onto his lap and plop down, pulling a gasp from both of you. The lack of clothing between you now has you twitching with anticipation.
By now, you’ve definitely soaked through your panties. And you’re proven right by Jisung pulling them to the side and dragging a finger through your folds, a deep groan leaves him at the squelching. You place a palm over his mouth, trying your best to stop the sounds from escaping him and into the microphone before dragging your soaked cunt over his cunt. He moans into your hand, with his own gripping your hips. You’re in awe watching Jisung’s eyes roll back into his skull for a moment.
“Jisung… what’s going on over there?” Mark sounds suspicious. Jeno jumps in, “Yeah, you good?” Jisung’s eyes widened as if he’d forgotten he was on a call with them. He pulls your hand off of his mouth and shakily replies, “S-sorry guy's I-, can we cancel the queue for a second?”
They barely had any time to agree before Jisung had already gone to mute his mic and push his headset off to toss on his desk. “Please fucking ride me.” He begs, already breathless. You don’t waste any time, positioning yourself over him and slowly sinking down. He tosses his head back into his chair and moans loudly at the feeling. Your mouth drops open at how deep he is from the angle. “Oh my god, Sung. So fucking big.”
Your words go straight to his dick and he grips at your thighs, helping you bounce on him. “You’re so tight, I could cry.” Jisung moans. You can’t stop the giggle that leaves you at how desperate he sounded but it was cut short as he thrusts up to meet your dripping heat.
You lift the hem of Jisung’s shirt up to his lips, signaling for him to hold it up with his mouth and he does exactly that. He lets out a soft, muffled whine at your hands dragging up his torso, softly sliding a thumb over his nipples. Jisung lets out a whimper, twitching underneath you. He grabs at your arm to stop you before dropping his shirt from his lips. “Lean against the desk.”
You’ve never moved so fast before, quickly hopping off of his lap and positioning yourself over his desk. He stands up and from behind you, grabs your waist and lines himself up before slowly entering you again. “Fuck, Sung.” The stretch has your eyes rolling back into your head. If it weren’t for the desk, your legs would’ve most definitely given out.
Your hands reach forward and you feel the headset that Jisung had thrown there. Without thinking, you pick them up and place them on yourself. “Looks so hot on you.” Jisung groans, his tip is kissing your cervix with slow, hard thrusts, making the desk shake with each movement. “Yeah?” You gasp.
You turned your head toward him and pulled the mic down to your mouth while holding eye contact. “Y’know how hot it’d be if Mark and Jeno heard this?” A sultry smile pulls at your lips. Jisungs gives an extra hard thrust at your words that pulls a loud moan out of you. Yet, a blush creeps up his neck as he mumbles, “I’m sure you’d love for them to hear how good you take it.” You whine in agreement, shivering at the thought.
“Fuck baby, you’re dripping.” Jisung reaches a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing small circles there. A sob rips from your throat at the stimulation, tears now pooling in your eyes. “Sung, m’gonna cum! Fuck, please make me cum!” You reach back and grab at his arm, needing to have your hands occupied.
He helps you out by pulling both of your arms behind you and with one hand, holds your wrists while beginning to pick up his pace. At this point, you're drooling on his desk but you don’t even notice, so focused on how close you are. “You’re so good to me, baby. F-feels so good.” Jisung can barely say with each moan spilling from his mouth.
With a couple more deep strokes, your high hits. Convulsing and clenching around Jisung, a choked moan leaves your mouth as your vision goes blank. You faintly hear him gasp at the feeling of your walls pulsating around him, “Fuck, fuck, fuck~” His grip on your wrists get tighter as he spills into you.
You both take a moment to catch your breath and Jisung slowly pulls out of you. A soft whine leaves you, the soreness already hitting. You haven’t moved from your position over the desk and Jisung, while massaging your wrists asks, “You okay, baby?”
You slowly push yourself up off the desk, and immediately feel your legs start shaking. A laugh leaves you as you nod, “Never been better!” Jisung giggles with you, and goes to grab the forgotten headset off of your head.
Grabbing Jisung from the collar of his shirt, you pull him into a deep kiss, making him whimper into your mouth. Pulling away, you utter, “If you get off the game with Jeno and Mark right now, we can go another round.” A cheeky smile pulls at your lips and he nods eagerly, already placing his headset on and unmuting himself, ready to end the night of gaming.
“Next time, turn your camera on so we can watch.” Jeno shamelessly says. “What?” Jisung questions, confused.
Mark awkwardly speaks up, “Um, you didn’t actually mute your mic...”
You watch Jisung stare blankly at the monitor, the color slowly draining from his face. You worriedly place a hand on his cheek, “Sung, what happened?”
Moving in closer to him, you hear the muffled voice of Jeno speaking, “-did she not say how hot it’d be for us to hear it? You can let her know I thought it was pretty hot to listen.”
Your eyes widen at the words before you burst into a fit of laughter.
“Uh, enjoy your second round.” Mark embarrassingly mutters. Jisung stutters but can’t find any words to say. You take the headset and place them on your own head once again,
“Sorry, maybe Sung will let you guys watch next time?”
synopsis ⌲ park jisung is the nation’s (secret) newest boxing obsession. hushed whispers, feared stares and his forgotten bloodied bandages left in the ring after every match. you're the girl living in the apartment next door because you can barely afford anything better while finishing your degree, and you can't help but notice the boy who comes home bloody and bruised every night. so what do you do? you follow him.
word count ⌲ 16,981
author's note ⌲ hello hello! cheers to my writing debut, the first installment to the 「choose your fighter」 series! my favorite heart shaped smile, jisung is starting us off! i put a lot of heart and soul into writing jisung's installment (not bc he's my bias or anything ( ''˶°ヮ°˶ )), i really hope it's enough for you guys to get interested to the other members installments as well. everyone's backstory on how they are where they are now in the story, ties in a little to how they are in real life.
i do have to note that i know the movie 'fight club' was specifically meant for men, but in this au i'll be allowing both men and women (but i promise no women ever get depicted getting hit by a man) to participate. other than that, the only warning i really have to mention is that since it is based off fight club, there will be descriptions of blood, bruising, getting hit, throwing punches. you know the drill.
don't be afraid to ask me questions about the installment, whether its something you're confused about or simply you want to understand it even deeper than what was written.
tysm for being so patient while i was working on this!!! feedback is appreciated and happy reading! ᕦ( ◡̀﹏◡́)ᕤ
the soft hum of your desk lamp fills in on the silence of your apartment, light casting cross the scattered notebooks and open textbooks. your pen is scratching against paper, tracing over diagrams you already knew by heart.
the rest of the building is quiet in that oddly loud way. pipes ticking in the walls. the distant whir of someone's ancient fridge running, the occasional car rolling by outside. you sit back in your chair, stretching your shoulders until they pop, eyes scanning another sentence on your textbook that you're not really absorbing.
and then you heard it.
a distinct beep, sharp and familiar, followed by the heavy slam of a door next to your own.
you glance at the clock. 2 am.
right on time.
you let out a sigh, closing your books with a soft thud and packing everything away. you click your lamp off, plunging the room into darkness that only the streetlamp outside leaking through your blinds being the only source of light.
you move through the room, snaking into bed, familiar and worn in the, middle from too many late nights like this.
the routine has become so ingrained you could map it out by sound alone. you go to class, maybe grab a sad coffee or something from the vending machine around the corner. you come home, drop your bag by the bed, and slump at your desk for hours on end until you hear the faint mechanical beep of your neighbors door locking, followed by the heavy boots shuffling down the hallway until you don't hear them anymore.
for your neighbor, they're just leaving their apartment. for you, it's the signal to go to bed.
you've bumped into him in the halls on multiple occasions, in that awkward dance of two people trying to pass each other in a narrow space kind of way. but you were never able to his face, let alone a name.
always so quick to dip his head lower than it already was, adjust his cap, or turn away when people got too close.
you do however, notice the knuckles.
it's always the knuckles you see first. raw, split, and scabbed over in jagged patches. sometimes the skin were so freshly torn, angry and red. other times, they're just faded bruises that yellow at the edges. it was almost like it was a roadmap of bad decisions written across his hands.
then, about a week later, you're hearing more than just the normal door slamming shut and heavy footsteps.
it's the dull sound of him leaning against the shared wall between your apartments for a second like he's catching his breath. there was one time you heard a muffled curse, bitten off halfway like he's trying to stop himself from waking anyone else up. another time, it's what sounds like a low, pained exhale. the kind people make when they're holding back something worse.
you thought maybe he was just a delinquent obsessed with violence. a trouble maker who seeks out fights just to feel something. you know, the kind you were always warned about to avoid.
and yet, the next night, you're sitting at your desk studying like it was any night, same pattern but not... quite. you're mind constantly drifting somewhere else as your eyes read over the clock over and over again.
2:13 am.
you've been trying to listen to the familiar footsteps walking past your door, wondering where the neighbor with the bloody knuckles and 2 am door alarms is possible at.
you've strained your ears enough to the point it almost rings. the pipes still hum, the cars pass by outside, somewhere five doors down a toilet flushes.
but the hallway on your floor stays silent.
you couldn't possibly have missed it, have you? the walls in the building are so thin, you're almost confident that you could hear the neighbors on the floor below you as if they were in the same room as you.
by 2:27 am, your notes are half-finished sentences and underlines that don't really connect to anything. you're not even reading anything anymore. you're just waiting.
what if something happened?
you shake your head, annoyed at yourself. you don't even know the guy! it's stupid, you know that. he's a stranger. just a guy with bloody knuckles and a door alarm you've accidentally synced your sleep schedule to. but the absence of him feels loud in a way his presence never did.
beep.
your head snaps up towards your front door.
at first, you don't move. your mind telling you: he's okay, everything is normal. you can close your books, turn off the lamp, and go to sleep. just thirty-two minutes off from what you were used to.
but your body doesn't listen.
you cross the room quietly, heart pounding, cracking open your door just enough to see into the hallway.
and just like always, the same heavy footsteps draw closer to your door.
his shadow appears first, stretching long enough across the wall as he approaches. you watch the way his shadow moves so uneven, one step a little shorter than the other. then you see the line of his shoulders, hunched more than usual beneath a dark hoodie.
and then he's right in front of your door, in passing but it's almost like time slowed down.
the first thing you see is his hand.
his knuckles are worse.
bandages now poorly wrapped and already stained through in places. the skin around the edges is swollen, like it was angry. he lifts that hand to swipe at his face, and for a split second, the hood tilts just enough that you catch the faint outline of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, the glint of a split lip.
he disappears out of your sight in seconds, but the brief vulnerability you caught in his demeanor replays in your head.
tired, bruised at the edges, and startingly, disarmingly alive.
and before you could talk yourself out of it, you're already throwing on a pair of shoes and following after him.
you kept your distance after him, footsteps muffled on the damp pavement yet every sound in the night is suddenly too loud. each turn down an empty street felt like stepping deeper into something you weren't supposed to witness.
well, you were supposed to be in bed right now. yet here you are. following after your neighbor like the psycho you were.
you take another step after him before coming to a complete stop.
you shouldn't. you really shouldn't.
but you've spent endless nights seeing the wounds, and even more hearing the pain through the wall—all those moments where you pretended not to notice.
something twists in your gut, pulling you forward just before you lose sight of your blood-knuckled neighbor. you see the top of his hood disappearing down a flight of stairs, and you jog after him.
at the bottom of the stairs, sits a lone metal door framed by damp concrete walls drowned in graffiti.
it looked abandoned, no sign of life coursing through the walls. if you had come across it yourself on any other day, you would've turned around by now, but tonight you're following the whereabouts of your neighbor. there's no other way he could've gone, so ultimately you decide to make your way down the stairs and through the door.
heat was the thing that rushes out first, thick with bodies and hot breaths.
then it was the smell. sweat layered over something sharper like it was a handful of pennies left too long in your palm.
and the noise? its the way you instantly cover your ears in an attempt to regain your sense of hearing as voices slam into you from all directions. shouting, arguing, betting.
but what gets your heart pounding is when someone shouts "fresh meat!" and a pair of hands are on you before you're even ready.
"hey, get your hands off of me!" you scream, shoving unwanted hands off of you.
no one listens, of course. the frenzy of bodies continue to pass you forward, deeper into the basement of wherever you walked into.
you're basically tossed into a ring, your hands catching the fall before you could hit your head. you're looking down, damp down at the concrete flooring like it's seen a hundred men go down and none get up easy.
it doesn't take long to find where your neighbor disappeared off too, because when you look up to take in the rest of your surroundings, he's standing in front of you shirtless, chest bandaged in bandages streaked with dark splotches that hinted at old bruises and fresh strikes alike.
his head is tilted to the side, someone leaning into his ear but his eyes are on you. one brow lifts, lazy and sharp, and your pulse jumps in a way you wish it didn't.
“lost, sweetheart? or did you walk in hoping someone would finally pay attention to you? warm-up toys don’t usually last long.” his voice was so low that you almost miss it.
"excuse me?" your jaw drops, obviously taken aback at the way he was speaking to you.
but he's not even looking at you anymore—he's staring at the horde of people surrounding the makeshift ring in the middle of the room, almost basking in the attention.
the same ring that you've had the displeasure of being thrown into.
you hear the crowd buzz amongst themselves, a name from all over the room, to which you can only guess belongs to him.
"that's him? the park jisung?"
"my money is on him tonight."
"she won't even last the night against jisung."
park jisung.
you're finally able to put a face and name to the neighbor next door— the one who always comes home bloody and bruised, always quick to hide his battered face from curious glances, always wearing anything with long sleeves to cover the scarred knuckles he bore on his hands whenever he unlocked his door.
before you can even open your mouth to ask what the fuck you just walked into, hushed murmurs around you are so loud that it drowns out whatever sound bubbles in your throat. not in the sense of it being loud in volume, but in a way where it seemed like everyone was scared it might reach the wrong pair of ears.
"what the hell is she doing?"
"no shoes, no shirts. what are we even waiting for?"
"take it off already."
you gawk at the men to your right. "i am not stripping down to my bra, you psychos. i'm not a fucking stripper."
"you're right, you're not." jisung points to his left, your eyes following to land on a faded out poster clinging onto the wall, somehow still readable. "you're in fight club."
You Do Not Talk About Fight Club.
You DO NOT TALK ABOUT FIGHT CLUB.
Someone Yells Stop, Goes Limp, Taps Out, the fight is OVER.
Only Two People To A Fight.
One Fight At A Time.
No Shirts. No Shoes.
Fights Will Go On As Long As They Have To.
If This Is Your First Night At Fight Club, You Have To Fight.
these people are out of their fucking minds, you thought.
"i am not taking off my shirt." you repeat, clutching tightly onto your clothes as if that was going to make a difference.
it's so outrageous to hear and quite literally, embarrassing to strip half naked in a basement full of men running on nothing but testosterone. if you knew this was where jisung spent his nights every day, you would have never have followed him here in the first place.
“if you’re not going to follow the rules, then at least hurry up. you’re holding up men who actually came here to fight.” those in the crowd holler in agreement, and jisung is giving you a look as if to prove his point.
"i didn't even come here to fight!" you argue.
in fact, you don't even know why you're even here.
was it to check if he was okay? you already confirmed that when you heard him leaving his apartment. to see if he was a violence obsessed delinquent like you imagined? so far, that checks out too! the pattern of bruises and scars painting across his chest proving you right.
"the last rule of fight club: if this is your first night, you have to fight. i don't make the rules, sweetheart. you should've known what you were walking into when you followed me."
your eyes widen. he knew?
you open your mouth to explain yourself, but the roars that first welcomed you into the basement have twisted into boos and furious hollers.
back faced to you, he's egging on the crowd, and it was the most embarrassed, no— angriest you've felt in a long time. “hey, if she doesn’t want to take it off, i get it. not everyone’s built for being looked at.”
you're not one to really snap, not someone who lets adrenaline drag you by the throat; but every word coming out of his mouth was hitting multiple nerves. you've never felt more degraded in your life.
he wants a fight so bad? then he can choke on one.
you kicked off your shoes in one reckless motion, making your way across the ring before you're even registering the decision. your shirt is over your head and onto the floor, muscles so tight you don't even notice how cold the air is when it hits your skin.
the crowd erupts in cheers, hungry to get their fill of the newcomers' first fight against park jisung, the nation's (secret) newest boxing obsession.
you grab jisung's shoulder so roughly that he's facing you, and your first flies before he can open his mouth. the feeling of your knuckles crashing into his jaw was so satisfying that it hit deeper than the impact itself.
the hit must've had more power in it, because despite your small frame, it makes jisung stumble backwards and grab onto the ropes to catch his fall. you're about to take another swing on him, ready to shut him up for good, when he catches your wrist.
"i'm tapping out." he announces, lifting his hands in surrender. almost immediately the sound of a bell rings through the air, cutting through the crowd's murmurs and disappointed groans. you're barely even registering jisung guiding you out of the ring when you catch what he says.
"took you long enough to hit me."
you scoffed in response, yanking your wrist out of his grip but to no avail. "are you fucking kidding me? you humiliated me in front of all these people."
"that was the point, sweetheart. i was trying to get you to hit me." jisung tosses your belongings to you after he helps you slip past the ropes, "i don't hit girls."
you blink at the sudden confession, staring up at jisung as he moves to a corner of the ring, shadowboxing in preparation to fight, a new fighter already replacing where you just were. and even when you see him throw his fists hit air, you knew he wasn't one to hold back.
somewhere in the room, someone announce loudly. "ready, fight!"
you watched as jisung drove his fist forward to meet flesh over and over again. every hit so rough it stained his knuckles despite them being wrapped in bandages beforehand. it like he knew his fists were a weapon, each swing so razor sharp that it almost looked disciplined.
jisung fought without hesitation, without wasted movement, like every strike had already been decided.
his footwork was so quiet, almost elegant in a way that it was the calm before the storm before he would twist his body to snap his wrist forward.
there was something with the way he fought: fast, exact, obsessed in a rhythm beaten into him.
oddly enough, in the midst of all the brutality of your surroundings, jisung was dangerously captivating.
it's been almost a month since your first night at fight club.
with exams swallowing up what little free time you had (thankfully passing it), you quickly fell back to your routine easily enough.
go to class.
drink a sad excuse of a coffee.
come home and study.
go to bed when you hear jisung's all-too-familiar door alarm as it locks.
you crossed paths with him once, in the hall the night after your first. you were coming back with a caffeine run, and he was on his way to who knows where—fight club was your best bet considering that was his favorite place to spend his hobby.
seeing him again only reminded you of how many questions you never got answers to. the bruises, the whispers, the way he became someone else in that ring.
you'd be lying to say you hadn't thought about going back. though your first night there wasn't exactly...welcoming, to say the least.
your dignity was ripped from your grasp the second you stepped through those doors. fighters stared you down, some of the betters even spat in your direction for making them lose money for winning against jisung.
you wondered if they would make you fight again if you were to show your face down there. you don't exactly fight people.
were you even allowed to call that a fight? jisung willingly tapped out the second you landed a hit on him. it wasn't even a win. it was charity.
you sigh, looking at the mess you call notes staring right back at you. maybe you should just forget about it. whatever happened that night in that basement was a one time thing.
but then you hear it—jisung's door alarm. but it's not the usual single chirp of it locking.
three sharp beeps, a pause, then a sound of the lock misfiring before finally clicking in place.
you've lived next door long enough to know his schedule like clockwork. tonight... something was different.
you get up before you can talk yourself out of it, peeking through the peephole just in time to see him appear through the glass. he's leaning his head on the wall across your apartment door— hood up, shoulders drawn tight, jaw clenched in a way you've never seen.
jisung wasn't just heading out. he was bracing for it.
then he's off, disappearing down the hall until you couldn't hear his footsteps.
you hesitate, heart pounding. you should mind your business this time. you should definitely not do exactly what you did last time.
but you're already slipping past your confinement of your apartment to really register what you're about to do.
you tell yourself you're not following him.
you just...happen to be walking in the same direction as him.
down the same street. at the same hour you definitely shouldn't be outside alone.
the wind feels colder tonight—sharper, pushing you forward like it knew exactly where you were heading.
second night, same boy, same bad decision.
whenever jisung steps into the basement and into the ring, something in him sharpens.
the damp concrete beneath his feet, the feeling of his knuckles cracking when he comes in contact with bone after throwing a fist, and that sharp metallic tang mixing with sweat—thick enough to taste—turns the establishment almost animalistic.
jisung feels like slipping back into a craving he's been starving. it's the way his pulse kicks up, or the way his fingers flexing like they've been itching for this all day.
he calls it focus, but if anyone else were to watch the way he fights, they'd see it for what it really is. hunger.
take the hit. give it back harder. he tells himself to keep moving until someone tells him to stop.
it's not just familiarity—it's regime.
a punch lands against his jaw, snapping his head to the side. the shock blooms across his cheek, warm and spreading like paint underneath skin, but jisung doesn't flinch. if anything, he almost welcomes it.
it reminds him he's alive in a way nothing else does.
his breathing evens out, steady and practiced.
the bruise forming isn't a deterrent. the blood on his knuckles—either his opponents or his own, he's not sure—anchors him. it's proof that he's doing what he's supposed to do.
to jisung, fight club is just the one place where he knows the rules well enough to survive.
like this is the one thing he can't walk away from. a place he returns to because he knows nothing else.
he rolls his shoulders once before he moves again and when he does, it's like watching a fuse catch fire.
jisung surges forward, closing the distance against his opponent in a breath. his fist connects with the other man's ribs first, a hit that forces air out of the lungs with a choked sound.
he doesn't wait to see the reaction. he never does. his body is already following through with another strike, a hook that snaps the man's head back.
then, he hits him with a third, fourth—even a fifth blow—knuckles slicing through the space between them like they're guided by something older than thought.
when the man stumbles, jisung sees his opening in the slight dip in his opponent's stance. he steps in, finishing the sequence with a sharp blow that sends the contender collapsing onto the floor with a dull thud.
the crowd reacts before jisung does. hell, the 'referee' doesn't even count, like they knew the fight was over long before they even announced who won.
jisung stands over the fallen body, chest heaving and jaw tight. there's a steady thrum beneath his skin—one that only quiets once he's proven again and again that nobody here can take him down.
to the members of fight club, park jisung isn't just a fighter who's good, but a fighter who needs it.
your eyes watched jisung's movements as he moves across the ring, you don't even realize you've stopped breathing until the crowd surges forward, pulling you with them.
he was moving in the ring like he was made for it. sharp, fluid and eerie in the way he never seems surprised by the hits thrown at him.
he takes blows to the jaw that you're sure would've taken out anyone else, but he just exhales.
every moment was so controlled it borders on compulsiveness, earning him the nickname everyone whispers: the underground's obsession.
because you've seen people fight before. this isn't that.
and then the bell rings.
the crowd erupts around you like they just won the lottery.
you blink, realizing that his match has ended and a new pair of fighters are already making their way into the ring.
"i thought i warned you last time to not follow boys who only look for trouble." a low voice called from behind you.
startled, you turn around. jisung stands there, eyes narrowed in that same sharp-edged presence as your first night. somehow he’s calmer than he should be for someone after a fight, but more dangerous for it.
he looks exactly like your first night in the ring: broad chest bound in stained bandages, fresh bruises worn like it was some sort of badge. only now, his wrists are bare, every knuckle sporting a shiny metallic red color in all it's glory.
his build was lean—abs etched just enough to catch the light when he moved. if he noticed the intense staring battle you're having with his torso, he chooses not to mention anything.
"park jisung." he introduced himself to you, extending his hand forward.
"y/n,” you managed quietly, shaking his hand carefully so as not to hurt him. “i live next door."
he hums in acknowledgement, like he knew. "so, why'd you follow me?" he asks, sensing you weren't going to answer his statement from earlier. "surely it's not because you want another go with me, is it?"
like hell you do. "god, no."
your first night was just you being stupidly, almost psychotically reckless, you'll admit that much. you know this place was a bad idea, a very BAD idea. yet here you are again, chasing something you can't name.
jisung huffs a laugh, amused. "didn't think so. you don't hit like someone who enjoys this place."
he pauses, and you watch as his gaze drags over your face, slower than he intends. "so why come back?"
"i...don't know." you admit. "i guess i just didn't understand why someone would want to do this more then three times a week."
something in jisung's expression ticks. barely, but there. "curiosity is a dangerous thing down here." he warns, voice lower than before.
"isn't this place just a place where people throw punches for ego?"
jisung's jaw flexes. "yeah."
your eyes narrow slightly, obviously not convinced. that "yeah" didn't even sound close to agreement.
you’re close enough now to see the faint tremor in his fingers, the way his breathing hasn’t fully evened out—not from exhaustion, but from the adrenaline still rattling through him, as if he hasn’t learned how to switch it off.
he shifts his weight—rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shrug something invisible off his back.
jisung's gaze is already being pulled away from you—to which you follow—drifting towards a man in the far corner of the room waving him over, an eager smile on his face.
you frown, eyes drifting back to jisung, confusion forming on your face.
his whole posture changes, like gravity just got heavier. jisung gives you one more look before he walks away, a quiet warning buried underneath.
"i wouldn't keep coming back if i were you," he mutters, his tone stripped down to something nakedly honest. "this place takes more than it gives."
you watch his bare, bruised back as he walks toward the older man, two others appearing and meeting jisung halfway. they greet him with claps to the shoulder as if to celebrate his win from earlier in the night.
one grabs his jaw, tilting his face left, then right, before shoving something to jisung's chest with too much enthusiasm for jisung's liking. he winces, stumbling backwards from the impact.
and despite the warnings jisung is giving you since following him down those stairs, you're too intrigued to really listen.
you quickly learn that jisung in the ring isn't the same boy you see up close. for someone that screams relentless and powerful, he's surprisingly...gentle.
you think back to the first night you ever waited for him outside.
"y/n? you shouldn't be out here alone this late." he frowns, checking the time. it was almost half past three. he thought you already left.
"i was going to, but i figured i'd get a little something to celebrate your win from earlier." you say, twirling the bag between your fingers.
you dig into the bag and pull out two yogurt flavored lollipops. "i don't know what you like but i figured everyone likes a sweet treat to celebrate."
jisung stares at you blankly.
the lack of reaction is starting to make you think that maybe you should've just went home after all.
"if you don't take the candy, i'm going to eat both." you say stubbornly, already in the process of unwrapping one so you weren't just standing there awkwardly.
to your surprise, jisung plucks the other candy from your fingers, popping the sugary treat into his mouth before he gestures that the two of you start walking.
jisung walks beside you in silence, the lollipop stick shifting from one side to the other in his mouth. he doesn't look at you, but he slows down his pace just enough for you to keep up.
maybe that's why—without really meaning to—you start to slip into the crowd to watch and make sure he's okay (much to his dismay).
"you're not very good at listening, are you?"
you freeze on the spot, because you already know that tone. it was more tired than it was angry; the kind of exhaustion that comes from fighting everything but the thing he wants to say.
when you spin around, jisung is at the top of staircase, hand on the railing like he was holding himself up. his hair was damp, a few strands stuck to his forehead, and there's a fading bruise at the corner of his mouth that wasn't there the last time you saw him.
he descends the stairs slowly, not like he was trying to corner you, but like his legs seemed heavier than usual. like he hoped you wouldn't actually come back tonight and doesn't know what to do when he realizes that's not going to happen.
his eyes flick to the door behind you, the sound of a crowd buzzing, fighters cracking their bones with every swing, the sharp bell cutting through the air. then his eyes land back to you.
you offer a small, unapologetic smile you always give when you know you've stayed away but couldn't. "i just wanted to make sure you were okay," you start, quiet. "after the last fight—"
jisung huffs a breath that isn't quite a laugh, but more like a surrender. "yeah," he murmurs, reaching the bottom step. "that's the problem."
because of course you came.
despite pushing you away with words, his actions always pull you right back in.
you stand frozen at the edge of the crowd, heart thudding as fists blur in front of you. every hit sounds too loud, too real. the crack of knuckles, each swing landing with a force that makes your stomach twist. it feels wrong, watching someone get hit like that, but your body won't move, and you can't tell if you're more afraid of looking away or looking too long.
you don't even realize you're drifting awfully close to the ring until a hand clamps onto your wrist and yanks you back.
jisung.
he's breathless, jaw tight, eyes scanning you like he's expecting to find blood.
"you can't just disappear like that." he says, voice sharper than he meant to.
when you just blink at him, startled, the tension in his shoulders collapses into something more exhausted than angry.
he sighs and steps closer, hands landing on your shoulders. "if you're going to wander around," he mutters, adjusting your stance. "at least keep your back to the wall."
his grip tightens for half a second, just long enough to give away how scared he actually was. you hear his breath leave him before he lifts his chin toward the left hallway.
"don't turn your back to that hallway. ever."
there's no heat in his voice now. just a warning shaped like fear.
other nights, you find yourself knocking on his door on impulse, like something in you already knows he'll open it.
jisung opens his door, hair flat on the side, clearly not ready to be expecting guests.
"i brought food," you blurt. "i ordered too much food and i'm not going to finish. if you want some."
he blinks at you, staring at the take out bag in your hands like it was some alien artifact. "you're...okay with sharing?" he asks, genuinely confused.
"no, jisung, i actually don't. i poisoned the food because the thought of sharing makes me homicidal." you deadpan.
there's a flicker in his eyes that you miss, before he shrugs and steps aside to let you in. "i don't know, you did punch me that one time."
the longer you're around him, the more you start to notice the things he doesn't say—little moments that give him away.
the walk back to the apartment complex from the convenience store was more of a comfortable quiet than an awkward one. streetlights, buzzing, the air cool and a half-finished snack in your hand.
nothing dangerous. nothing unusual.
that's why the noise startles you both.
a metal pipe hits the ground with a sharp clang, somewhere behind the construction fence across the street.
you jolt a little and jisung's already stepping in front of you before you could register what was happening.
his arm is in front of you automatically, blocking you, body angled like he was expecting someone to come rushing out. you hear his breath catch harshly—too sharp for a noise that came from a perfectly safe work site.
you look up at him, gentle but confused. "are you okay?"
"sorry," he mutters, pulling away when he realizes he's standing too close. "didn't mean to."
"it's okay." you say. and it is. because the street settles back into the same comfortable quiet from five minutes ago.
jisung swallows, nods once, and walks again. not beside you this time, but half a step ahead, like he's clearing the path.
and somehow, despite everything, he's clumsy in a way that feels almost endearing.
you get startled when jisung nearly trips over his own feet while the two of you are walking home. you catch his arm, and he mutters something underneath his breath before sneaking a look in your direction.
"are you okay?" you ask, a small smile creeping on your face.
the boxer looks away, suddenly realizing how close you are to him.
"yeah-yes, uh, yeah," he stutters.
a laugh escapes you, soft and warm. "you know, you fight better than you walk."
his shoulders sink. "don't remind me."
when you keep smiling at him, he looks away—the eye contact physically being too much for him. not flustered, just unsure how to keep the conversation going without sounding strange.
he walks a little straighter after that.
it becomes a pattern. him softening in small ways that don't match the boy you first met. nothing dramatic. just a quiet awareness like he keeps waiting for you to show up again.
and you do, hours later, jacket half on and grocery list in hand, jisung appears in his doorway just as you step out.
"where are you going?"
you turn, facing a messy haired jisung, with his hoodie half zipped.
"grocery store," you say. "i'm running out of food."
he hesitates, then he's fully stepping out into the hall and locking his own apartment. "i'll go with you."
and then you're off. the both of you fall into step automatically, like you've done this a hundred times instead of never.
the automatic doors sigh open as you both step into the glow of the grocery store. it's nearly midnight, aisles half empty with soft music humming above your heads.
jisung keeps close behind you, hood up, hands in the pockets of his jeans like he's afraid to take up too much space. you watch as his eyes constantly dart around—over the shelves, the signs, the people.
"do you always shop here?" he asks, after a scratch of silence.
you nod, humming. "mh-mm, it's close to campus." you spin around, walking backwards so you're looking at him, a smile on your face. "and they have good strawberries."
he nods like that's deeply important information, a feeling in his stomach that he can't decipher from what.
he watches as you walk into an aisle, plucking items off the shelf to inspect them before placing them in the cart you had grabbed earlier.
walking behind you, he keeps staring down into the cart like it's a foreign language.
"do you usually just pick anything you want?"
"that's how shopping works," you laugh. "you buy what you want."
he nods slowly, slowly processing what was happening right now.
when you reach the produce section, you hand him a container of strawberries. "check if they look okay?"
jisung stills for a moment but cups the plastic box in both hands without question.
"they look fine," he says finally, but then frowns, opening it and inspecting each one like he actually wants to get this right. "this one looks...weird. is it supposed to look like that?"
you take a peak at the strawberry jisung singled out, and laugh softly. "it's just a little dented, it's okay."
his mouth forms into an 'o', slowly placing the fruit back into the container and into the cart.
in the snack aisle, you hold up two different ramen flavors. "pick one."
he's staring at his options like they were a trick question. "for you?"
"for us," you correct. "nothing beats a good bowl of ramen when you're finished with a fist fight." you cup the side of your mouth and add quietly, "and when you're deprived from sleep of studying all night. that too."
jisung swallows and finally ends up picking the simpler one, after three full seconds of internal warfare. you pretend you don't notice how nervous he is about it.
when you guys reach the freezer section, jisung is too invested in the different types of protein and processed foods that when he blindly reaches for the cart, his hand brushing yours by accident and he snatches it back instantly.
"sorry—"
"it's okay," you say, voice soft. "you can relax, you know."
"i'm trying." he says quietly, not embarrassed, just honest.
you smile and don't say anything else. you continue on with your shopping, letting jisung in on the decision making process.
and that's how the night ends.
four plastic bags, a shared walk home and jisung looking at the world like someone just opened a door he didn't know existed.
it isn't until two months later after meeting jisung that you realize you're starting to feel something for him.
it's technically friday morning, though it still feels like thursday to you, when you and jisung walk the path back home after his match at fight club.
when the two of you walk, you don't usually say much. so when you see jisung taking a right turn instead of going straight like you normally would, you can't help but call out to him.
"earth to jisung, i don't know where you think you're going, but home is this direction."
his response is a simple "i know" as he continues to walk forward. when he stops in his tracks and looks back in your direction, you realize he's waiting for you to follow him.
you raise a brow at him but ultimately follow; where he doesn't begin walking until you're beside him.
and you're glad you do follow him, because he leads you to a park.
the park is washed in a low silver glow, the moonlight catching on the leaves. the pathways are empty, but not lonely—just peacefully still.
"this is the park i come to from time to time to practice boxing." jisung says, hair blowing messily in the faint breeze that moves through the trees.
you hear dogs barking in the distance, the lamps along the trails casting a warm halo over the pavement in soft gold circles.
jisung walks over to an open area before he gestures for you to stand in front of him. "come stand in front of me."
you don't ask questions and follow orders, and jisung softly takes your wrists and lifts them beside your face. "fists closed, arms on the side of your face like you're about to block a sneeze."
"are you really teaching me how to box right now?" you ask, not annoyed, but amused.
jisung shrugs, nudging your feet further apart to get into the perfect stance. "i won't always be there on time."
"one foot slightly ahead of the other and keep your knees loose," when he holds your chin to tilt it down, you stop breathing. "chin tucked."
jisung steps away, nodding. "good. that's your stance. stay loose."
he taps your front hand. "this one—jab. just a quick flick."
he gets into position, demonstrating. "it's the simplest punch. use your front hand and just extend your arm straight out and bring it back like i did. it's quick, light and more about speed than power."
you nod, following his actions. jisung nods in approval. "good, now the next one is called a cross. turn your hip. more."
you punch forward, and he exhales like he's biting back a remark.
"your hip," he says. then he steps behind you, one hand settling at your waist and the other on your hipbone. "you're not turning it."
he moves with you, guiding the twist of your body. his hands fall away a moment too slowly, like he forgets to let go. "there we go. power comes from here."
you spend the next twenty minutes learning some basic boxing moves: your stance, basic moves; to which some needing further instruction with how awkward you were being.
"i have no clue what i'm doing." you say, laughing.
"that's okay." jisung reassures you, being patient with you as he walks you through each step.
"now you're going to guard."
"guard?"
he nods. "not getting hit. it's the baseline of defense." he brings your hands back up to your face into position. "hands up, elbows tucked, and keep your face protected." he demonstrates again. "and keep your head slightly turned so you're never a still target."
when you try it, jisung steps closer. "not that far." he murmurs quietly.
his fingers curve lightly around the back of your neck, turning your head the way he wants it. his thumb grazes your jaw as he nudges you back to center. "just enough to miss the hit."
you tell yourself it's only the cold night air that is making you aware of the close you are, but your heart seems to know something you don't.
on mondays and wednesdays, jisung likes to hover inside your apartment while you study. he reasons that it's to make it feel less lonely for you, but you suspect it's more for him than yourself.
so when you open your door, it's no surprise to see him standing there—the culprit of the knocking, stepping aside wordlessly to let him in.
he never intrudes, letting you work without distraction. he fidgets or paces while you study, trying his best to keep himself occupied without getting in the way of your studies.
every now and then, he'll hover over your desk, watching as you scribble notes on multiple passages that you read over. he'll even pass you a pen or a different colored highlighter, as an excuse to stay closer to you.
occasionally, he'll watch you hum softly, his posture shifts, tension sliding up his shoulders the moment your eyes lift, gaze dropping to his hands as if they're suddenly fascinating.
and you stare at him, a question bubbling in your throat you've been wanting to ask since meeting him. "how did you get good at boxing?"
his eyes widen, and he shifts in his seat to lean back, not expecting the sudden change of interest.
you notice his hands clench and then relax, wiping his hands on his jeans from how clammy they were getting. "uh, it's been a hobby of mine since i was a kid." he starts, gaze skimming over the room, never settling long enough to land on you.
you tilt your head, surprised. "since you were a kid? really?" there was something about the way he said it, like he didn't want to admit it but couldn't help himself.
jisung nods, leaning forward as if to examine your notes though his eyes aren't following the words. "people around me always said i was good. like really good. i ended up learning about fight club through an... acquaintance." he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. "it was just a hobby of mine that i stuck with, i guess."
"and fight club? when did you join?"
he shoots you a brief look. "you want a full biography? it's mostly boring."
when you nod your head for him to continue, the corner of his mouth quirks up just slightly. "do you remember the first rule of fight club?"
"that you don't talk about fight club..." you say, pouting, but you can't hide the small smile tugging on your lips.
your eyes meet, but he looks away almost immediately, jaw tightening. you turn back to your notes, fingers fidgeting with your pen.
you tuck your hair behind your ear, flipping back to the page you were on, focusing your brain into study mode.
and for the next few minutes, he lets you go back to studying.
jisung stretches in his seat, hooking a foot around the leg of the chair to ground himself. he presses his thumb to a raw spot on his knuckle, worried about distracting you but can't quite sit still.
for a moment, you wonder if he even realizes how calming it is for him to be here, quietly occupying space without interrupting.
silence stretches between you two, comfortable yet expectant, before he returns the same curiosity. "what about you? do you even like it here?"
when you don't answer right away, he softens his question. "i mean... are you happy?"
you blink, thrown off by the sudden shift.
he clears his throat, eyes darting away to look at your picture frames—friends, family, awards—fixated on none in particular.
and when you take a peek at his face, your heartbeat skips, a quiet stutter you hope doesn't show.
how strange, you think. you spent several weeks pretending he was another friend but there's something about the way he hovers near you—careful, gentle—that makes a tiny, impossible hope curl in your stomach.
"i would say so," you murmur. "why do you ask?"
jisung shrugs. "there's not much to do here, and you're all by yourself."
"i have you." you say, smiling without thinking.
the words linger longer than you expect.
for a moment, jisung goes still, almost like the sentence hits him somewhere he wasn't guarding. he doesn't comment on it, but he doesn't need to.
because after that night, something shifts.
he stays a little longer on mondays, shows up a little earlier on wednesdays, and his knocks become familiar, almost expected.
until one night, he shows up again, but the knock is different—it's harder, more uneven.
when you open the door, he isn't composed or careful. he's bruised, breathing hard, his eyes searching your face with a kind of quiet urgency.
"can i..." he says, voice cracking. "can i come in?"
you rush him inside and sit him down onto your couch. "wait here, i'll go get the first aid kit."
and when you come back, you're kneeling in front of him, eyes searching his. your hands pause just above his skin, waiting for any sign of discomfort.
his hands are still trembling, bandages soaked, eyes distant.
when he doesn't flinch away as you place your hands on top of his, you take it as your sign to start cleaning him up.
you start with unravelling the bandages around his wrists, heart hurting when you see the injuries underneath: his knuckles are torn open. you grab a warm towel, wiping away old and fresh blood.
you drag the warm cloth over his cheekbones, washing away the smear of someone else's blood. his breath catches, and you quickly apologize. "sorry," you whisper.
"it's okay," he murmurs, voice rough. "it doesn't hurt." and it doesn't, because you're being so careful with him.
the cut on his eyebrow is shallow but messy, bleeding more than it should. you clean the split and jisung stays perfectly still—not from the pain, but from how close you are.
when your gaze traces the line of his cheek, the swelling making your heart twist. "do you want to talk about it?"
jisung shakes his head and you nod, not wanting to push it.
his breathing comes in uneven pulls, gaze fixed on your hands. his shoulders are tense under your fingers, no matter how gentle you are with him.
you smother a thin layer of ointment over the open cuts, careful not to put even the slightest of pressure to make it hurt.
when your fingers brush his jaw, it's like the world stops.
his gaze drops to your mouth without meaning to, and he swallows like the air is suddenly too thick. he tries to lean back but you're quick to call his name softly. his breath hitches.
"jisung, don't move too much, i'm almost done."
"y/n..." he says, your name sounding like something he isn't sure he's supposed to want.
you look up.
and it's over. the distance, the pretending, the pretending-not-to-stare.
jisung doesn't move closer, not really. he just...leans. like his body decided before he had time to think himself out of it.
"jisung—" you start, but the words dissolve because he's already there, brushing his lips against yours so gently you almost wonder you imagined it.
when you don't pull away, he breathes out shakily and kisses you again, this time real. still soft, still careful, but with something warm and terrified behind it, like he's afraid the moment will disappear if he presses too hard.
he pulls back slightly, the loss of warmth feels immediate. his eyes stay on yours, wide and conflicted, the kind of look someone wears when they've done something instinctive and only now realized it. "i...didn't mean—" he begins, his voice coming out hoarse.
he exhales sharply. "shit..."
you sit back on your heels, heart still hammering, your fingers curling against your knees. you're so stunned that you don't move.
"...can we pretend that didn't happen? just for tonight."
you nod, even though your chest tightens. "yeah," you whisper. "for tonight."
but the way his eyes drop to your lips again—quick, involuntary, betraying him completely—tells you both the same thing:
he won't be able to pretend forever.
the next few days pass in a strange, fragile kind of normal—or your best attempt at normal.
you and jisung don't talk about the kiss. you don't look at it, breathe near it, don't let yourselves say anything that might detonate the quiet truce you made.
he still comes over mondays. still knocks twice on wednesdays. still sits in the same chair beside your desk, fidgeting with the same nervous hands.
but everything about him has changed.
every time you brush past him, he stiffens. every time he passes you a pen when you study, he snatches his hand back immediately. and every time you look at him a little too long, he looks away a little too fast.
you still come to watch his fights on tuesdays. still practice with him every other saturday. still buy him yogurt-flavored candy to celebrate every win.
and just like jisung, everything about you has changed.
when he finishes a fight and heads straight for you, your heart trips over itself. when he walks too close on the way home, you hate how much it affects you—shoulders brushing his—the heat radiating off him. and when he brushes a stray hair out of your face without thinking, your stomach flips so violently you feel stupid for pretending it doesn't.
you both pretend that the kiss never happened, but it's the only thing echoing through your head.
does he regret it? is that why he avoids your eyes on purpose or is it because he really can't meet them?
if you were to be completely honest, these past few days have been absolute hell for you. a constant ache, a constant wonder of what will happen to the two of you if you were to even breathe a word about the kiss.
the way he reacts with you now is enough to make your heart sting.
it's gotten to the point that even ordinary things feel strange now. when he hands you a water bottle, he sets it down instead of passing it to you. when he laughs, he cuts himself off too fast. when he stiffens around you, every inch of space between you feels charged. everything feels so rehearsed—like he's trying to avoid a mistake he already made.
he's a fighter, but your fingertips make him retreat.
why did he look so sure about kissing you then, but so terrified now?
that uneasy flutter hits your stomach again, heart beating too fast for comfort the more you think about your reality. was this the beginning of him closing off?
and that's exactly what ends up happening.
when the next week comes, jisung's visits on mondays are less frequent. he comes by noon and ends up leaving after an hour, not really elaborating why. you've tried offering to keep him company, but he would always decline.
wednesdays come by in a blur with unfinished homework and a room too big for your liking. you glance at the clock out of habit, waiting by the door longer to admit, listening to the soft pair of knocks that end up not coming. the silence consuming your apartment is so complete it almost feels intentional.
you think saturdays are when it hurts the most. for the past few months, your weekends have carved around the same rhythm. go to fight club, practice, the long walk home with jisung where he always walked a little closer than he meant to. you tell yourself you were fine without it, but when saturday comes, you find yourself staring at your ceiling instead of the stars you normally would see in those brown eyes you couldn't help looking into.
you try to smother the ache by focusing on school. bury yourself in assignments. highlight lines in your textbook even if you don't need to.
but your thoughts won't stay where you put them.
you've thought about going to fight club, but a single question was enough to stop you every time.
what if showing up makes it worse? that even if you came just to see if he was okay, to see if he was hurt, if he was avoiding everyone or if it was just you.
and maybe worst of all: what if he acts completely normal?
you're more afraid of that possibility than the brutality in that damn basement—of the smell of sweat and spit, the echoing roar of the crowd and the metallic taste of adrenaline that always lingered on your tongue. you'd rather face that than have him look past you.
still, that anxious energy was building in your chest, buzzing, restless, like your body hasn't stopped expecting him to show up at any moment.
so you decide that boxing might be a good way to release it.
you lace up your sneakers, throw on a jacket and grab your keys before walking to the park that feels too familiar. you'd step on the cracks in the pavement, skipping out on hopping on them like you normally would just to hear him laugh. you pass the convenience store you normally buy that stupid yogurt-flavored candy, but you don't let yourself look too long through the windows.
the air is colder than you expected, but maybe that's because you're alone.
when you reach the park, the sight hits you harder than you prepare for.
because you find the cause of all your anxiety sitting on a patch of grass, hands tangled in his hair like he's trying to hold himself together.
the park lights paint him in a dim gold, soft enough to make him look almost harmless—almost like the boy he keeps insisting he isn't.
your feet move automatically, the crunch of gravel underneath your shoes is so loud you're afraid it would scare him away.
he doesn't look up when you approach him.
he just says, voice tight, "i'm trying to not fuck things up."
"what do you mean?"
you carefully sit beside him, the fresh wet grass soaking into your jeans. the silence settles between you, as if you were letting him decide if he wants to run again.
he doesn't.
instead, he lifts his head, eyes finally meeting yours. they're dark, raw and honest in a way he's never let them be.
"you have no idea," he starts quietly. "how hard i'm trying not to think about that kiss. but every time i do, i just...get more confused. i don't know what i'm doing."
your heart picks up.
he exhales shakily. his fingers twitch against the grass, like he's fighting himself. "i'm scared," he admits. "every time i thought i was doing the right thing, i ended up wanting you more. i...i can't stop thinking about you."
his voice breaks a little, but he leans a little closer anyways.
the heat between you is immediate, familiar, terrifying.
you whisper, "jisung."
and just like that, just his name on your lips undoes whatever restraint he was clinging to. he fully turns toward you, knee brushing yours, breath warm against your cheeks.
"if this is too much," he murmurs. "tell me to leave,"
your heart starts to race, so fast that you swear you could feel it in your own fingertips. when you shake your head—barely a motion, barely anything—his shoulders loosen.
jisung leaned in slowly, like he was approaching something sacred. his hand hovered over your cheek first—not touching, just asking. when you don't pull away, he exhales and lets his fingers settle against your skin. he pauses there, eyes flickering to your mouth, giving you every chance to stop him right then and there.
when you don't, he dips his head and presses his lips to yours, gentle but unmistakably firm.
every moment after that was slower, more sure, like he was memorizing the exact shape of the moment as he created it.
your chest tightens, not from fear but from the sudden, dizzying relief of finally knowing you weren't imagining any of it.
it hits you all at once. the loneliness of the past week, the confusion, the ache of thinking you were the one who cared. now he's here, saying everything you were too afraid to hope for.
you didn't think it was possible to feel so safe and so exposed all at once.
and for the first time since that night, he doesn't pull back.
weeks slip by, each one folding into the next. you and jisung settle into a rhythm that feels almost ordinary (if ordinary can include someone who likes to fight as a hobby).
jisung's visits become more frequent again, and there's a lightness to his presence that wasn't there before. the tension that used to coil around his shoulders has softened, though not disappeared entirely.
now the two of you cook together sometimes—more you than jisung, share music over lazy afternoons, and walk through the neighborhood without feeling like you're bracing for something. you seem to notice that jisung laughs more freely now, letting his gaze linger on you longer than it used to, and you catch him watching you, quiet and unselfconscious, in moments that make your chest tighten in ways you're happy to feel.
you watch him train in the evenings with a steady focus, calloused hands and sweat-slicked hair, and yet he leaves the brutality at that damned basement when he comes home. mostly, at least.
you still notice the way he flinches at sudden noises on the street, in the small, almost imperceptible pauses before he answers your question you asked earlier, and sometimes in the distant look that crosses his eyes during quiet study sessions. it's a reminder that fight club isn't gone, just contained.
and yet, life still goes on. it softens around the edges. moments pile up, small ones, stupid ones, ones that make you think maybe this fragile calm is becoming something real.
like the evenings he reads your textbook upside-down just to see how long it takes for you to notice.
or the afternoon he tries to fix a broken faucet and somehow manages to break it even more. (you didn't even know that was possible. he stands over the sink, desperately trying to stop the water from flooding your bathroom. "how did you even—" you start, but jisung is quick to cut in. "i don't know. i followed the instructions. probably." he in fact did not follow the instructions.)
or maybe the way he steals your snack you bought on the way home, then denies it in the world's worst poker face. you think he does it just to get a reaction out of you.
or just maybe, it's the quiet, almost domestic rhythm of him staying the night, brushing your teeth at the same time, bumping elbows at the sink, both of you pretending it's not weirdly intimate.
it becomes a string of small, ordinary days. warm, unassuming, easy enough to believe in.
so when dinner goes wrong one night, like spectacularly wrong, jisung is staring at the smoking pan and you both end up laughing harder than you should.
"we should go grab take-out," you decide.
"obviously," he mutters, waving smoke away with a towel.
it feels normal, stupidly normal. almost like you could stay this way if only for one night.
you two walk along the street, the city quieter tonight that made jisung's breath feel less heavy.
your eyes light up, spotting a familiar neon sign. you tug in jisung's sleeve, urging him to quicken his steps. "this place has really good kimchi udon. delicious, cheap, and won't poison us."
he laughs, small but real. "that's reassuring."
when you two get your food, you fill the silence in-between bites with small pieces of your childhood.
you don't notice the way jisung's eyes linger on you as you talk, too caught up in the conversation of how your mother used to make you kimchi udon when you were a kid, but was too busy with work to continue making it.
he watched as your hands moved as you spoke—expressive, soft and utterly unconcerned with how ridiculous you may look to others around you.
he didn't realize for the past hour, he has never felt this way before.
it was nothing like the world he knew.
not the underground pit. not the shouting. not the tension that lived in his bones like a second heartbeat.
and for a terrifying moment, he knew he wanted this.
by eleven o'clock, you're walking next to jisung, arms linked as you guys make your way back to building, where your doors face the same hallway, turning onto a quieter street because a neighborhood cat caught your attention.
that's when they appeared. three men stumbling out of a bar doorway, loud, slurring. at first, it was nothing, but one of them bumps into you and instead of apologizing, they look up and smile too wide for your liking.
"hey sweetheart," the man said, voice sticky. "where you headed?"
you stiffen when another man steps closer. "you're cute, y'know that?"
the third laughed. "c'mon, don't be shy. join us." lifting his hand up to your face, almost carelessly, but to jisung, it's something else entirely.
and suddenly he's too close, stepping in-between you and the tipsy man, his hand shooting out in front of you like a barrier.
"back up." it wasn't loud, but was colder in the way it was said that not even the night air makes you shiver.
the first guy scoffs. "what, you her boyfriend or something?"
jisung's jaw flexes, fists curled. his stance lowered half an inch. he didn't notice he'd done it, but the men did.
"that guy's gonna swing," one muttered, already attempting to drag his friend away from a nasty blow.
and jisung almost did. every nerve in him begged for it. the impact, the adrenaline, the clarity that came. that familiar rush surged up his spine, drowning out your voice behind him.
"jisung, it's fine," you whisper, but his breathing goes shallow, and his eyes narrow.
the familiar rush of adrenaline drags him backward without permission, and suddenly the street lamps become a single buzzing overhead bulb, the sidewalk molting into that grimy slate-colored canvas that caught every drop of sweat. like he was back in that concrete hallway again, shouts he can't hear clearly.
then it was your hand on his back that snaps him back to reality. soft and slow.
"jisung," you say again, barely audible. "it's fine. they're just drunk, let's go home."
he doesn't even realize the three men have already backed up and left. but his body doesn't relax.
something settles behind his eyes. not anger, not fear—acceptance.
because even if he wanted normal, normal didn't want him back.
and that's how it ends up: two days without seeing him. two days of worry gnawing at you like a bruise you can't stop pressing.
now you're back in fight club because you've decided enough is enough—you need to see him.
and tonight, you learn very quickly who the next fight is through the chorus of murmurs rippling through the crowd:
park jisung versus fight club's favorite prodigy.
that's how jisung ends up back to the place beneath everything else.
the crowd whispers about the other fighter like he's inevitable, like park jisung is showing up just to bleed.
the lights flicker for a second, then lock steady, revealing two figures in the ring. the crowd's mumurs swell into a low roar, an animalistic buzz that prickles jisung's skin, but he barely notices.
his focus narrows, every movement in the air, every muscle becomes part of a single rhythm.
across from him, the prodigy smirks, bouncing lightly on their toes, eyes bright, fists poised. this isn't someone jisung underestimates; the club has built legends out of them, but he's not here to play games. not tonight.
keep breathing. eyes. hands. timing.
but his ribs still ache from the last fight. his right hand throbs inside the wraps. and under it all is the fear from two days ago, the shove in the street and the echo of a soft, familiar voice replaying in his head.
not now. don't think. just fight.
the bell rings.
and the prodigy lunges first.
the first hit jisung blocks. the second cracks against his jaw. jisung counters on instinct, landing a jab, but his opponent only grins.
another strike comes flying—a hook. jisung ducks, his vision pulsating at the edges.
it's fine. breathe. i've fought worse. i—
a blow to the ribs knocks the air from his lungs.
jisung gasps, stumbling back, guarding low, chest burning. everything he knows slipping from his mind. usually he reads opponents like an open book, but tonight—
focus, damn it.
a hook grazes jisung's cheek, staggering but recovers, swinging a cross with a calculated precision. he's been here before. he knows how to dictate the fight.
round after round, they trade blows. each strike from the prodigy is sharp, aimed to provoke. each counter from jisung is defensive yet punishing.
the crowd cheers, but jisung barely hears them; all he feels is every nerve alive, each breathe burning, every heartbeat hammering.
another uppercut snaps jisung's head back. he's hurting, but he's still relentless. he feints, dodges, and lands a solid jab to the prodigy's midsection. the boy grunts, but keeps pressing.
the bell for the next round feels like a reprieve. jisung leans against the ropes, chest heaving, sweat stinging his eyes.
round four: fatigue creeps into jisung's shoulders, slowing his reflexes just enough for the prodigy to land a brutal combination—a hook to the temple, a cross to the jaw, an uppercut snapping his head. he stumbles, chest heaving, one hand brushing the ground to keep him upright.
jisung starts to feel stars behind his eyes, ribs screaming. he throws a desperate flurry, but his body tremble under the strain. the prodigy wastes no time to counter, finding openings that shouldn't exist.
and finally, a sharp right connects squarely on his temple. the world tilts, and jisung falls to one knee.
the referee steps in, quick to announce the winner. the crowd is a mix of cheers, groans, murmurs, but jisung knows that throughout the fight, he left his mark despite the loss.
jisung struggles to his feet, every muscle burning and every nerve screaming.
the roar of the crowd fades into a distant echo as he steadies himself. for a heartbeat, everything is just ringing and sweat and the taste of blood.
then hands grab him.
jisung doesn't get a chance to breathe before he's being dragged out of the ring.
a hand clamping around his upper arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. not out of malice, just thoughtlessness. like he was something to move out of the way, not someone to apologize to.
"back up," someone grunts, and before he can react, jisung is yanked a half-step sideways. his feet scrape against the hard floor as another body shoves past, shoulder checking him without even looking.
"watch it, he's still bleeding," another one mutters, but no one slows down.
these were the days when jisung felt the smallest, not because there were other fighters here who were bigger and meaner, but because he felt like no one here bothers to see him.
another guy reaches from behind, steering him like an obstacle. "move."
it doesn't take long for a tall man step in front of him, looming over him like a wall. he doesn't punch first; he doesn't need to. instead, he inspects him, circling slowly, eyes sharp, hands twitching like he's mapping the quickest way to break him.
everyone in the crowd watches with a hunger that has nothing to do with the sport. the kind of silence that isn't respectful, but expectant. they've seen this happen before. threats aren't theatrics here; they're currency. and the man in front of jisung? he's someone whose words are followed.
the man grabs the younger fighters' jaw, fingers digging into the fresh cut on his cheek. "see these?" he murmurs, twisting just enough to make jisung wince. "all that pain, all that effort... what's it worth if you can't even win me a fight?"
the man's grip on his jaw tightens, and before jisung can even brace, a sharp backhand cracks across his cheek.
it's not rage-fueled punch. it's worse.
it's casual.
jisung barely reacts, swallowing and lowering his gaze because he knows better to make it worse.
this is world he's used to.
not with yogurt-flavored candy. not with late-night study sessions for a subject he's never taken. not a girl next door who makes him feel something he can't name.
"pathetic."
the taller man doesn't lift his hand again. instead, he jerks his thumb toward the crowd—toward someone just barely visible at the edge of the ring, eyes focused on him, face pale. you.
"you lose the next one," he hisses, voice low enough for only the boxer can hear, "and that girl over there ends up like you."
his breath stutters. for a split second, his eyes flicker toward you—quick, terrified, apologetic—before he forces them back to the older man in front of him. he nods once, and a bundled item is shoved into his hands so abruptly that his fingers curl on instinct. the weight familiar and unmistakable.
the crowd presses closer, hungry to see violence, but their noise fades into a background when jisung's eyes lands on your figure rapidly approaching him.
he doesn't hesitate. his body moves before thought does. too many eyes are on you now. his hands finds your wrist, and before you can process the look on his face, he's pulling you into the nearest dark corridor.
the first thing out of your mouth comes out panicked, almost angry. you've seen him bruised before. but never manhandled. "what the hell was their problem?"
the crowd behind you roars at something—no, someone—hitting the ground. a wet, meaty crack echoes through the room, followed by a choked sob and the scrape of shoes dragging across concrete.
jisung's hands land on your arms, as if to keep you in place while he glances over his shoulder. when a figure passes by, jisung is quick enough to shield your body with his, away from any more attention you've gathered tonight.
"not here. please."
you on the other hand, were too angry to notice his intentions. "seriously jisung, what the hell was that back there?"
"what was what?" he asks, though he already knows the answer to his own question.
you catch the shift in his expression, and you see it. his shoulders locked, panic flashing across his face.
"why were those peopl—"
your eyes flick between him and the group of men slinking into a hallway, before they settle back on jisung; eyes traveling down to the contents settled in his hands.
"why do you have a wad of cash in your hands?"
your neighbor's jaw tightens. he looks everywhere but at you, shoving the cash into his pocket as if hiding it can undo what you saw.
when he refuses to answer, you look at him—really look—and it hits you.
the bruises, the trembling, the exhaustion, the sharp edges of his posture.
they weren't from just fighting, they're the weight of everything this place demands.
from the men who grabbed him when he slowed down, from the threats whispered into his ear, from the hands that forced him back into the ring whether he can stand or not.
suddenly, the money being shoved into his chest after every fight doesn't look like a reward—it's permission. a pass to use him again next week.
you realize he's not fighting because he wants to.
he's fighting because someone decided he doesn't get a choice.
"is this..." you start, your voice barely carrying over the distant shouts. "is this what you meant that fight club took more than it gave?"
for a moment, he doesn't answer. he just lets go of your wrist, his hand lingering for a second before he finally looks at you in a way that you finally see the cost that he's been paying.
"stop coming here. please." his voice is steady, but the strain is there if you're listening.
jisung never cared what happened to him in this place.
he could have the crowd boo his name. his opponent could break his ribs. his handlers could beat him until he's half-conscious.
none of it scared him.
but he feels fear for the first time once he sees you.
one moment he's staring at the wad of cash in his hands, the threat echoing in his skull like gunfire—you lose the next one and that girl ends up like you—and the next, his gaze catches on movement at the edge of the crowd.
you.
your eyes wide. confused and hurt.
his stomach drops so fast he feels sick.
you're too close, too visible, too fragile for a place like this.
jisung doesn't decide to move, his body just..goes. his hand reaches for your wrist before he can think if that's crossing a line, but he needs you gone. hidden.
his pulse is a roar in his ears, every shadow feels like a threat. he pulls you into a nearby corridor, barely registering the words coming out of your mouth. when he feels you yank your wrist out of his grasp, he blurts out the only thing he can manage. "not here. please."
but you don't listen—of course you don't—and he doesn't blame you. "seriously jisung, what was that back there?"
his eyes snap to yours, narrowing. for a split second he hopes—no, prays—that deep down you didn't actually see what happened. that maybe you were asking about the fight, not the men who had their hands on him afterward. "what was what?" he forces out, voice tight.
but then your eyes drop to the cash he's still holding, and he feels it before he thinks: shame crawling up his throat, and underneath it, terror, because this is it. this is the moment he knows he failed to keep you out.
"why do you have a wad of cash in your hands?"
please stop. please don't get pulled into this. please don't see me like this.
he can't breathe properly. he tries to, but the air sticks, shallow and sharp.
your gaze travels all over him—his bruised cheek, his shaking hands, the open cuts on his knuckles—and he sees you putting it all together.
and then you say it.
"is this what you meant that fight club took more than it gave?" the words were so soft, but they cracked him clean in half.
because you're right.
because you were never supposed to know what it cost him.
and because he never wanted you to ever understand just how low this basement can go.
being seen like this. like property.
his jaw locks before he can stop it.
and he finally looks at you—really looks—and it almost breaks him. the worry, the anger, the fear swimming in your eyes all at once.
"stop coming here," he says, but the words scrape his throat raw on the way out. he tries to make his voice steady, but he hears it anyways—the strain, the fear pressing against each syllable.
he wishes he could tell you the truth. to have the ability to hold your hand again not because he's pulling you into a corner to hide.
but all he can manage—all he's allowed—is, "please."
the one word he only ever learned how to use when begging for mercy.
and right now, he's begging for yours.
park jisung grows busier and harder to reach, but somehow, you never stop feeling the warmth of his presence lingering at the edges of your day.
for once, you decided to listen to your neighbor and stop attending fight club. you tell yourself it gives you more time to focus on school—less stress, fewer close calls—and thankfully jisung still puts in an effort to come see you despite the unspoken ban hanging between you.
sometimes it's quiet check-ins between his errands. other times, it's the quiet comfort of the two of you sharing a couch, your head resting against his shoulder until he inevitably falls asleep sitting up. or it's the days where it's something small but thoughtful—like buying you a cup of coffee far better than the instant stuff you usually settle for, handing it to you before your first class with a soft, "don't be late."
lately, though, you've noticed he slips away at odd hours.
tonight, you hear the scrape of his chair against your floorboards and glance up from your notebook, you catch him tugging on his hoodie, hood up, the motion casual but purposeful.
"where are you going?" you ask, curious but not accusing.
he pauses long enough to lean over and press a kiss to the top of your head. "i'll be back in a bit," he murmurs. "but if you're asleep by the time i come back, i'll make sure to see you tomorrow. promise."
and then he's gone.
and despite having class early in the morning, you find yourself fighting sleep anyways—lights low, pretending to review notes, hoping to catch one more moment with him. even it it's just hearing him whisper a tired "goodnight" on his way past your door.
almost daily, around the same hour, he slips out, never telling you exactly where, only murmuring: "just clearing my head".
by morning, you cross through the living room on the way out, and you don't miss a steaming cup of coffee waiting on top of your entryway table, his jacket casually hanging on a hook beside it.
a small note rests atop the cup, written in his signature messy writing that you somehow are able to decipher:
"don't stay up too late again. see you tonight."
you can't help but smile, the warmth of him lingering in the air, even as he's nowhere to be seen.
over the course of the next few days, subtle signs begin to emerge that something is shifting. it's not in the dramatic moments you might expect, but in the quiet details that only someone paying close attention would notice.
his bruises are different now. they're cleaner, sharper, not the chaotic marks left by handlers or underground chaos. they speak of control, of calculated endurance rather than dissociation and desperation.
he seems sharper, more present. when he speaks to you, his focus is unwavering.
a neatly wrapped bandage covers his knuckles, and sometimes a water bottle in his bag instead of the usual blood-stained towel.
there's a faint, dry scent clinging to him sometimes, sharp, earthly, almost metallic, and it lingers under the familiar smell of his hoodie.
you catch a glimpse of his posture changing over the days. the way he leans into movements, balances his weight differently. you can't name it exactly, but something about him seems...more deliberate.
he keeps the mystery close to his chest, and you know better than to pry.
even in these small ways, you sense he's not spiraling anymore. his exhaustion is physical, not mental. his posture is steadier; his steps measured. and yet, the history of what he endured leaves you uneasy. you wonder if he's back in the ring, somewhere underground, somewhere you'll never know.
he enters the ring with a steadiness that feels wrong to the people watching and painfully right to the person he's becoming.
it's subtle at first. the way he rolls his shoulders, the way he adjusts his stance with small corrections: tightening his guard, grounding his weight, lifting his chin just enough to see without inviting a hit.
it's nothing dramatic or flashy, but it feels like watching a wolf that's learned not to chew its own leg off.
and the crowd hates it.
"where's the old park?"
"why isn't he swinging?"
"what's he doing?"
whispers ripple around him, irritation edging their excitement like they're watching a familiar beast behave all wrong. like he was cheating them of the spectacle they came for.
that wild reckless kid who threw himself into hits just to keep him awake.
the kind of fighter that made crowds lean forward in anticipation of blood.
jisung never used to think in the ring. he used to dive headfirst, fists flying, as if pain was a currency he could buy freedom with.
but tonight? he dodges instead.
the first blow that comes toward him, one he would've taken to the jaw without flinching, he slips under with a smoothness that startles even him. his muscles scream at him to follow it up with a reckless lunge, to chase that familiar sting of impact.
but he doesn't.
each dodge is a battle with muscle memory, a fight against the craving for pain. it's exhausting in a way nothing physical has ever been.
he counters only when he needs to. he doesn't chase openings; he waits for them.
his fists no longer fly with adrenaline, they land with intention. because he's no longer trying to tear through someone; he's trying to outthink them.
and for the first time since he was fifteen, jisung fights like someone who wants to see tomorrow.
that alone makes him unrecognizable.
he could care less if the crowd hates it, or if his handlers beat him for it. there's irritation in their eyes—something close to offense—like he's breaking an unspoken contract.
but he isn't performing for them anymore.
truth is, his ribs ache from holding back instincts he's spent years obeying.
but for jisung? he's choosing himself, even if he doesn't know where that choice leads to yet. and the more he fights this way, the more obvious it becomes that something in him is shifting.
across the ring, his opponent grows frustrated. he swings harder and angrier in an attempt to draw out the old park jisung. but jisung keeps slipping away, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
a missed punch sends wind rushing past his cheek. a blocked jab thuds harmlessly into his guard. a reckless hook is met with a simple step back.
then jisung lands one clean strike, a sharp cross to the jaw that sends his opponent stumbling and the match ends not in an explosion, but in quiet.
not the kind of win that makes money or draws attention. it's the kind that ends anticlimactically.
so by the end of the week, the new version of himself has become impossible to ignore.
at the end of one of his fights, a handler steps into jisung's path before he can wipe the sweat from his jaw, a fist into his hair, yanking him close.
"you think i don't notice when one of my fighters starts acting cute?" his breath is sour, hot against jisung's cheek. "all that dodging. all the patience. that's not you."
when the young boy doesn't answer, the man's eyes narrow. "do i need to bring in that girl to remind you how this works?"
and something in jisung snaps into focus.
his voice is low, steady. "you said if i lose the next fight, you'd drag her into this." jisung lifts his chin just enough to meet the man's eyes. "i haven't lost a single one since that night."
the handler scoffs, shoving jisung back into the concrete wall hard enough to rattle his teeth.
normally, this is where the old instincts would kick in: drop your gaze, apologize, and promise to do better. promise to bleed more next time.
but instead, his hands curl at his sides, not in defiance, but to stop from shaking. because the fear he feels now isn't the kind they trained into him. it's sharper, smaller, lodged directly under his ribs. it's fear of you being anywhere near them.
he hates that he's still a boy they molded, even while trying to climb out of shape they forced him into. but he also knows one thing with terrifying clarity: if he goes back to the way he fought before, he's dead. and if he doesn't, they'll look for new ways to break him.
either way, there's something that stubbornly whispers he might finally be fighting for something that's his.
"careful, park," he mutters, already walking away. "you're starting to forget who you belong to."
but that's the thing: jisung hasn't forgotten. he's just realizing he doesn't belong to them at all.
so over the course of the next few days, frustration among the handlers like rot in the walls.
jisung barely makes it two steps off the mat before someone grabs the back of his hoodie and yanks him sideways. his shoulder slams into the concrete wall hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs, but he doesn't fight it.
"cute performance out there," one of the handlers says, voice low and sharp. "real disciplined."
another snorts. "crowd hated it."
"you think people pay to watch you dance?" a third voice chips in.
a fist slams into the wall beside his head, close enough that the vibration rattling his teeth. "you used to give us something to sell."
jisung doesn't answer. not because he's being brave, but because his body moves before his mind can stop it.
his shoulders tighten, his chin dips a fraction, his gaze sliding away from the handler's eyes and fixes somewhere safer: concrete floor, peeling paint, anywhere that isn't a challenge.
a slow smile curls at the end of the handlers mouth, his grip tightening painfully in his hair, yanking his head back until the ceiling blurs. "there he is," he murmurs. "there's the boy we raised."
"i'm still winning," jisung says, but this time his voice shakes.
another shove sends him tumbling forward, a loud mocking laugh behind him. "you think winning is the point?" a voice sneers. "people don't come here to watch control. they come to watch you break."
jisung presses his palms flat against the wall to steady himself.
"i don't want to fight like that anymore," he says, and the words terrify him just as much as they feel right.
silence. then a sharp exhale.
"you hear that?" one handler says. "he's grown morals." a hand grips his chin, forcing his face up, meeting his eyes despite himself not wanting to.
"in case you forgot, you don't get to decide when this ends."
jisung's heart hammers, his mind flashing not to pain, but you. your apartment, your coffee cups, the way you look at him like he's not already ruined.
"basements don't forget faces," the man adds lightly. "and accidents happen when stop caring."
the handlers step back, already bored and walking away. "next match," one says over his shoulder. "remind us why we even bothered to keep you alive this long."
jisung slides down the wall until he's sitting on the floor, head tipped back, staring at the flickering light above him.
they're realizing park jisung might be more trouble than he's worth. and if he's no longer profitable...they might finally let him go.
that night, he comes home late.
not bleeding or limping, just tired in the deep, bone-heavy way that settles after holding yourself together too long.
you're half-asleep on the couch when he lets himself in, a blanket tangled around your legs, some muted show paused on the screen. the apartment smells like detergent and something warm, like leftover comfort.
jisung pauses in the doorway longer than usual.
he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. the way one of your socks has slipped halfway off your foot. the soft, unguarded way your face looks when one is demanding anything from you.
he moves quietly, toeing off his shoes, setting his bag down without letting it thud. when he drapes the blanket back over your shoulders, your hand curls instinctively into the sleeve of his hoodie.
the contact almost knocks the breath from him.
for a second, his body reacts the way it's been trained to, muscles tight, mind bracing, waiting for the cost of touching something good. but nothing happens.
you just murmur his name, barely awake, and tug him closer like it's the most natural thing in the world.
he sits there longer than he should, letting your warmth seem into him, memorizing the room: the chipped coffee table, the faint hum of the fridge, the quiet safety of being wanted without conditions.
this, he thinks suddenly. this is what they'd ruin first.
not the ring, not the money, not the bruises.
they'd start small. missed visits, broken routines, a coffee cup left untouched before he didn't make it home. they'd poison it slowly until even being here felt dangerous.
the thought settles heavy in his chest, because if this is the thing they can use against him, then this is the thing worth fighting for.
when he finally stands, easing your hand free, he already knows what he's going to do next.
and he knows it's going to cost him something.
the next match doesn't feel different when it starts.
same basement, same flickering lights, same sour smell of sweat and metal that never quite dies. if he closes his eyes, he could pretend nothing has changed, but the handlers are watching him closely this time.
he feels it in the way their attention presses against his spine. assessing like men deciding whether a tool is worth repairing or whether it's cheaper to toss it and find another.
his opponent is aggressive, younger, loud.
all sharp elbows and reckless confidence, swinging before the bell has even finished. it's exactly the kind they think will drag the old jisung back out of him.
the bell rings, and the first punch comes fast and ugly—wide and sloppy meant to hurt more than land.
jisung steps aside just enough for the glove to cut past his shoulder, air rushing where his face used to be. a year ago, he would've let it connect, letting the crowd feel it through him.
a murmur ripples through the room, but he keeps his guard tight, feet grounded against the concrete like he's anchoring himself to the earth instead of floating above it.
every instinct in his body screams at him to answer pain with pain, to trade blows, to buy silence with blood. but just he breathes, slow in through his nose, out through his mouth.
now his opponent grows more irritated; swinging harder and louder. he tries to bait jisung, dropping his guard on purpose and throwing taunts between punches, clipping his ribs just enough to sting.
but jisung absorbs it without chasing. just enough to learn the rhythm. the hitch in his shoulder before a hook, the way his weight shifts too far forward when he commits.
then jisung moves.
a clean counter snaps the man's head back. another step, another strike. he's already gone by the time he retaliation comes, feet thudding softly against the floor.
and just like his previous fights, the crowd doesn't cheer.
near the ring. one of the handlers scoffs. "this is boring."
another clicks his tongue. "the kid's not listening."
and jisung hears them. he always does. and for the first time, he looks at them while he fights. just once, just enough for them to know this isn't an accident. that he's not choosing to listen to their recycled threats.
there's no fear on his face, but there's no challenge either.
he finishes the match the same way he's fought it—controlled, quiet and undeniable. when the bell rings, there is no roar to follow up. just an uneasy silence and a few disappointed groans.
the handlers don't rush him this time. no hands in the hair, no fists to the ribs, no barked threats delivered inches from his face.
one of them exhales slowly, irritation thick in the sound. "he's not worth it anymore," he says.
and that is the moment jisung understands he might finally be free. because to them, he's stopped being profitable.
and that's the most dangerous mercy they know how to give.
your break from classes feel like the first real breath you've had in weeks. you spend the whole afternoon cleaning your room, catching up on laundry, even making a proper meal instead of whatever you could microwave between assignments. the apartment is quiet and you're halfway through folding a pile of shirts when the door clicks open.
jisung steps in, shoulders slightly hunched, hoodie damp at the edges from outside fog. he looks tired in the way someone looks when their body is tired, not their spirit.
there's something else too, something alert behind his eyes, an energy that didn't exist a month ago.
"you're back early," you say, glancing over the pile of laundry.
he toes off his shoes, eyes flicking toward you and softening instantly. "yeah, thought i'd check in. make sure you weren't buried under homework again."
you roll your eyes. "it's break, genius."
he grins, one he reserves for you. "right. break."
he crosses the room and sinks onto the couch beside you, falling backward like gravity personally offended him. his head lands near your thigh, close but not quite touching, as if he's checking if you'll let him. you push a folded shirt aside and brush a hand through his hair.
he melts instantly.
"long day?" you ask.
he hums. "something like that." his eyes slip shut, breathing slow and even, like bearing near you is the only moment he lets himself actually rest.
you think he'll nap (he looked like he needs one), but after a few minutes he sits up again, rubbing his face and exhaling like he's trying to shake something off him.
"i should...take care of something before it gets too late," he mutters, straightening his hoodie.
you pause folding your laundry. "already? you just got here."
"i know," he says quickly, almost apologetic. he leans down and presses a warm kiss to your cheek. "i'll be back in a bit."
you frown. "you always say that."
"and i always mean it." his voice is soft, careful like every word is placed down instead of spoken.
by the time he leaves, you're staring at the door with a strange ache, half worry, half longing.
jisung slips out like he usually does, hood up, footsteps quiet on the damp pavement. he walks past the alley behind the old gym, the one where the the underground fighters linger after matches, talking, smoking.
only tonight, it's empty. quiet.
for the first time in years, the absence of the men who had always haunted him doesn't feel like freedom. it feels more like a countdown ending. the cages, the cheap lights, the cheers for blood. they're fading, losing power over him, and with that fading comes something sharper: clarity.
he realizes he doesn't want to hide anymore. not from them, and certainly not from you.
and that night, even after he returns hours later and drapes a blanket over you as you pretend to be asleep on the couch, something in his movements feel different.
like he's standing at the edge of something, and he already knows which way he's going to jump.
the following evening, you're finishing dinner when there's a knock on your door. two light taps, then one heavier one. jisung's signature pattern.
you open the door expecting the usual—hoodie, exhaustion, an attempt at a smile.
but tonight, he looks wired. not anxious or panicked. just full of something he's been holding inside for too long.
"hey," you say softly. "everything okay?"
"yeah, i—can i come in?"
you step aside, and he walks in, pacing once across your living room before stopping in front of you. his hands hover like he can't decide whether to clench them or reach for you.
"okay," he starts, voice thin, "i don't want to keep you in the dark anymore."
your eyebrows lift, confused by where this was coming from. "about...?"
he takes a breath, and when he speaks, it sounds like tearing something open.
"i want you to be at my match tomorrow."
you blink. "your match? jisung, i haven't gone to fight club since—"
"no, not that," he shakes his head quickly, a frown on his face but doesn't last long. "not underground. not that hellhole."
he meets your eyes with something raw. something hopeful and scared at the same time.
"i've been training at a real gym," he says." with an actual trainer and everything. i'm taking on my first match tomorrow." a shallow breath. "my first real match."
the words feel unreal in your eyes. "wha—you—" you blink, not sure what words should come out. "... jisung? since when?"
he runs a hand through his hair, pacing again. "two months," he admits. "almost three. i didn't want to tell you until i knew i could stick with it." his eyes lift toward yours, and there's something uncertain in them you're not used to seeing: the quiet vulnerability of someone who's never been allowed to want more.
"i didn't want you to get your hopes up," he murmurs.
when you step closer, jisung hesitates for a moment before reaching for your wrist, fingers gentle as if asking permission.
"fight club...they're phasing me out. because i'm not giving them what they want anymore." his jaw flexes, frustrating flickering across his face. "i'm not bleeding for people who don't care if i make it home."
your chest tightens. "jisung..."
he shakes his head before you can interrupt. "i know it doesn't magically fix the last ten years of my life, but i want a shot at something real; at something clean." his voice cracks just slightly, but you feel his hands squeeze yours. "i want a future i don't have to be scared to let you see."
he swallows, like the words are scraping as they come out. "i...i want this to be real."
and there it is. the truth he's been choking on.
you reach up, cupping his cheek and he leans into it with a quiet, almost boyish need. "what time is the match?" you ask softly.
"eight." he whispers.
"then i'll be there."
inside, the gym is brighter than anything you've seen him fight under. bright lights, real referees, people who paid to watch techniques instead of blood.
for the first time, you don't feel like prey the second you walk through a door.
jisung spots you almost immediately. he's across the room, hands wrapped in clean white tape, wearing a uniform that fits him. his trainer speaks quietly besides him, adjusting the elastic of his glove.
and since the night you first noticed your neighbor in the hallways of your shitty apartment complex, jisung looks alive.
when he sees you, something in him softens so fast it borders on heartbreaking. he doesn't approach—he's mid-prep—but he gives you a small nod, one that says stay there, i see you, don't look away.
"i want a clean fight."
and the match begins.
jisung's stance is different from the underground—measured but unapologetic. he uses footwork instead of instincts, precision instead of self-destruction. when he dodges, it's intentional. when he counters, it lands clean.
he's not fighting to entertain anymore. he's fighting to win, and it shows.
his opponent is larger, more experienced, but not mean or cruel. this is a sport, not a pit. and jisung rises to the level of every expectation placed on him.
in the third round, he lands a decisive combination—left hook, cross, clean foot pivot—and the referee steps in as his opponent stumbles.
the bell rings, and the match is over.
a real win. a real crowd cheering not for blood, but for him.
and jisung's eyes find yours instantly.
he doesn't stay long in the ring, making his way down and rushing to your side.
he takes your face in the palm of his hands, lifting your face to meet his lips.
when he pulls back, he leans his forehead against yours. “turns out i'm better at fighting for my life than fighting in the ring.”
you look up at him, eyes crinkling. there's something gentle that swells behind your ribs. not loud, just full—as if your body hasn't quite learned what to do with this kind of feeling.
you laugh, and you take his wrist in your hands, raising his arm in the air like you were the referee declaring the winner.
"the winner is: the nation's newest boxing obsession—park jisung."
