Pairing: producer Jihoon x singer songwriter reader
Genre: established relationship
Type: fluff, smut (make out, fingering, mdni!)
Word Count: 3k
Summary: sometimes you just want to be a perfectionist, but a perfectionist would lead to selfishness. But you're not alone here.
It was late afternoon, the golden hues of the setting sun barely reaching into Jihoon's studio through the thick blinds. The air smelled faintly of coffee and lingering traces of his cologne, mixing with the ever-present scent of worn-out leather from the studio couch. His speakers played an old blues track, the slow strumming of the guitar blending into the hum of his computer as he scrolled through files, eyes scanning the screen with practiced ease.
The door creaked open, and Jihoon instinctively turned in his chair. There you were, stepping inside with a playful flourish, striking a pose as if making a grand entrance. He chuckled, his expression softening the moment he saw you. Without hesitation, he got up, his body moving toward you with an ease that spoke of familiarity and longing.
"You didn’t have to bring this," he murmured, taking the bags from your hands with one swift motion. "I told you we could eat outside later." He set them down on the coffee table, his gaze lingering on you this time, drinking in the sight of you after what felt like an endless week of missed moments and rushed goodbyes.
Then, without another word, his arms encircled you, pulling you close into the warmth of his embrace. His grip was firm yet gentle, his chin resting lightly against your hair as he finally exhaled the tension he didn’t even realize he was holding.
"How’s work, baby?" His voice dropped to something softer, more intimate, meant only for you. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns along your back. "You’ve been everywhere this whole week… I miss you."
You let out a deep sigh, melting into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. "So tiring…" you murmured, your voice laced with exhaustion.
Jihoon hummed, tightening his hold ever so slightly. "Then just stay here for a bit," he whispered, pressing a light kiss against the crown of your head. "You don’t have to do anything. Just breathe."
You barely had a second to settle into his warmth before the question slipped past your lips.
"Did you listen to the demos I sent you?" You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with expectant eyes.
Jihoon sighed, his hands still resting on your waist as he gave you a pointed look. "Babe, at least eat first before we start talking about work." His tone was firm, but the way his thumb absentmindedly brushed over your side betrayed his fondness.
You couldn’t help but grin, tilting your head at him. "You? Telling me not to work?" A teasing lilt crept into your voice as you poked at his chest. "Jihoon, the same guy who spends fourteen hours in this studio, forgets to eat, and only takes breaks when I physically drag him out of here?"
Jihoon scoffed, stepping back just enough to shoot you a deadpan look. "That’s different."
"Oh, is it?" You crossed your arms, amused. "So, when you do it, it’s dedication, but when I do it, it’s overworking?"
"It’s different because I’m looking out for you," he shot back, grabbing the takeout bag and waving it slightly in front of you. "Now sit. Eat first. Then we can talk about your EP."
You bit your lip to hide your smile, but the warmth in your chest spread like wildfire. Jihoon wasn’t the type to fuss openly, but this—this was his way of taking care of you. And as much as you wanted to press him about the demos, you couldn’t deny that the smell of food was suddenly very tempting.
Jihoon handed you a pair of chopsticks before opening his own container, the scent of warm food filling the small studio. The music from his speakers had shifted to something softer—probably an instrumental track he had been working on earlier.
As you took a bite, he casually said, "Mingyu finally settled on a concept for his solo debut."
You raised a brow, chewing. "Oh? What’s the theme? Gym selfies and puppy eyes?"
Jihoon let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Close. He wants something sultry, more R&B-influenced. Think Taeyang, but with more groove."
You hummed, considering it. "I can see that. He’s got the stage presence for it."
"Yeah, but he’s making me rewrite half the song because he suddenly wants a different vibe." Jihoon sighed, rubbing his temple. "I swear, one more change, and I’m making him do the writing himself."
You giggled, nudging his foot with yours. "Sounds frustrating, but you’re kind of a perfectionist too. Admit it—you like the challenge."
Jihoon clicked his tongue but didn’t argue, taking a bite of his food instead. "What about you? How was Japan?"
"Busy. Exhausting. But fun," you said, leaning back against the couch. "The fan meeting was huge. They really went all out with the decorations this time. And the fans? So sweet. One of them even wrote a letter saying my music helped them get through a tough time."
Jihoon glanced at you then, something fond flickering in his gaze. "That’s gotta feel nice."
You nodded. "It does. Makes all the stress worth it."
He was quiet for a moment, stirring his food absentmindedly before speaking again. "And your voice? How’s your throat holding up?"
You blinked at him, then smirked. "Why do you sound more worried about my vocal cords than my exhaustion?"
Jihoon rolled his eyes. "Because you’ll sleep eventually, but if you strain your voice, I’ll be the one dealing with your frustration when you can’t hit your notes."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Fair point." Then, after a beat, you added, "But I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all."
Jihoon didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it slide. "Good. I need you in top shape for this EP."
"See?" You pointed at him. "And you said we wouldn’t talk about work while eating."
He smirked, leaning back against the couch beside you. "I never said that. I said you shouldn’t talk about work while eating. I can do whatever I want."
You groaned, nudging his leg again. "Unbelievable."
Jihoon just chuckled, shaking his head before stealing a piece of food from your container, earning a gasp of protest from you. And just like that, the weight of exhaustion felt a little lighter.
As soon as you finished eating, you wiped your hands, grabbed your phone, and immediately started jotting down notes. Jihoon watched you with a knowing smirk, shaking his head slightly as he leaned back in his chair.
"You couldn't even let yourself digest first?" he teased.
"You say that like you’re not about to spend the next hour dissecting my demos," you shot back without looking up.
Jihoon huffed a laugh and swiveled in his chair to pull up your files. The moment the first track started playing through the speakers, his focus sharpened, his head nodding slightly as he listened. You knew this look—his producer mode had officially switched on.
After the song played through once, he leaned forward, fingers tapping lightly against his desk. "Okay. Overall, the structure is solid. But the pre-chorus needs a little more buildup—you’re coming in strong, but the transition feels too abrupt. Try holding out the last note in the verse a bit longer to let it flow naturally."
You nodded quickly, typing out his notes while replaying the part in your head. Jihoon continued, breaking down the details patiently, his voice steady but firm as he pointed out small but crucial tweaks.
"The harmonies in the bridge? Love them. But they could use a little more layering. Maybe stack another vocal track an octave higher."
"Got it."
"The last chorus is great, but you can push the emotion more—don’t be afraid to go raw with it."
You scribbled that down too, biting your lip in concentration. When he was done, you straightened up, inhaled deeply, and turned your phone screen toward him like a student about to present their homework. "Okay, teacher, here’s my revised plan."
Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Let’s see it."
You walked him through each of his suggestions, demonstrating the changes with quick vocal snippets. Jihoon nodded along, occasionally offering minor adjustments, but for the most part, he looked pleased.
"You’re catching on fast," he admitted, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"Of course. I have a great mentor," you quipped.
Jihoon snorted but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached for a mic and handed it to you. "You can record it here." He pulled a chair closer to the recording setup, gesturing for you to sit.
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle in.
"Let’s start with the first verse," Jihoon instructed, his tone soft but assured.
You met his eyes, feeling a wave of comfort in his steady presence. Then, with a small nod, you put on the headphones and let yourself sink into the music.
The hours stretched on, the once playful atmosphere in the studio growing heavier as you pushed yourself through every take. Jihoon sat behind the mixing board, his fingers hovering over the controls, listening intently as you sang and then immediately requested another round, adjusting every little detail that didn’t sit right with you.
At first, he admired it—your dedication, your drive to perfect every note. It was one of the things that had drawn him to you in the first place. He saw so much of himself in the way you worked, in the way you refused to settle. But as time ticked by, he noticed the tension in your shoulders, the way your voice wavered not from emotion but from sheer exhaustion.
He wanted to stop you. His heart ached to tell you to rest, to take a breath, to call it a night. But he also knew you—knew that stopping before you were satisfied would only frustrate you more. So, he let you continue, let you chase the image of perfection you had in your mind.
Until he heard it.
The deep, tired sigh, the quiver in your voice as you tried to hold the note but fell just short. A shaky exhale, and then silence.
Jihoon looked up just in time to see you blinking rapidly, your breath uneven as frustration welled up inside you. The tears pricking at your eyes made his chest tighten.
Without hesitation, he reached forward and pushed the mic away from you, his chair scraping against the floor as he stood.
"Y/n," he murmured, his voice softer now, careful. He crouched in front of you, his hands finding yours, rubbing slow circles over your knuckles.
You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "I can do it. I just—" Your voice cracked, and you bit your lip, looking away.
Jihoon sighed, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. "You don’t have to prove anything right now."
"But I—"
"You’re tired, baby," he whispered, squeezing your fingers gently. "You’ve been at this for hours. Even I start making mistakes when I push too hard."
You let out a weak laugh, sniffling. "You never make mistakes."
Jihoon rolled his eyes, leaning in closer, his forehead lightly pressing against yours. "I do. I just don’t let you see them."
That made you smile, if only a little. Jihoon pulled back just enough to look at you properly, his eyes searching yours. "Come on. Let’s take a break. Just for tonight."
You hesitated, your perfectionist heart warring with the exhaustion in your body. But Jihoon’s hands were warm, grounding. His presence, steady as always.
With a deep breath, you finally nodded. "Okay."
Jihoon smiled, standing up and offering his hand. "Good. Now, let’s get out of this studio before we both lose our minds."
And just like that, the weight on your shoulders felt a little lighter.
*
The dim lighting of Jihoon's apartment cast a seductive haze over you, shadows dancing across the walls as you moved together in a feverish rhythm. The air was heavy with the scent of sweat, musk, and something uniquely yours – the heady perfume of desire. Music pulsed from hidden speakers, the beat thrumming in time with your racing hearts.
You lips locked passionately as hands roamed greedily over each other's bodies, lost in the heat of desire. He broke away, trailing kisses down your neck as he urged you to stand, leading you to his bedroom.
"I'm gonna worship every inch of you."
His words were like a prelude to sin as he leaned in to claim your lips once more, tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. The world narrowed to the feeling of his hard body pinning you to the wall, the insistent press of his arousal against your hip. He reached down, fingers finding the fastenings of your jeans, tugging them free and shoving the denim down your legs.
As the jeans pooled around your ankles, Jihoon's hands made quick work of your lacy bra, unhooking it and letting the straps slide down your shoulders. His palms cupped your breasts, thumbs circling the hardened peaks as he dipped his head to draw a nipple into his mouth. You gasped at the sudden sensation, fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on one breast while teasing the other with his clever fingers.
"You're so beautiful, baby," Jihoon breathed, gaze burning into yours as he nipped and sucked along your jawline. "I want nothing more than to take care of you right now." His large hands caressed your inner thighs, thumbs brushing over the damp fabric of your panties. "Tell me how much you need me, sweetheart..." He hooked his fingers in the elastic, slowly pulling the lace down her hips.
"Need you," you whispered breathlessly, arching into his touch. "Want you to make me forget everything except how good you feel."
Jihoon's eyes darkened with desire at your needy admission. He licked his lips, his gaze flicking to the apex of your thighs as he revealed more of your heated flesh. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he rasped, pressing a thigh between yours to part them wider.
With each drag of his tongue and scrape of teeth, Jihoon coaxed more of your essence onto his digits, reveling in your flavor as he brought them to his lips for a taste. "Sweet Jesus, you're addictive," he groaned, spreading your juices over his mouth before plunging two fingers back inside your dripping channel. He pumped steadily, curling them to stroke that sensitive bundle of nerves with every thrust.
"I thought you want me to rest, Jihoon.."
Letting out a low chuckle, Jihoon met your eyes with a mischievous glint. "Rest? Baby, this is the ultimate form of relaxation for us," he purred, punctuating his words with a slow, deliberate thrust of his fingers. "Your body is speaking louder than your words, telling me exactly what it craves." Leaning in close, he captured your earlobe between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug.
With a firm grip on your waist, Jihoon spun you around and pinned you against the wall, never breaking his rhythm as his fingers continued their sensual assault. "Come for me, beautiful," he commanded huskily, increasing the pace and depth of his strokes. "Let go, sweetheart. I've got you."
As your orgasm crashed over you, Jihoon gentled his touch, petting your clit with a soothing rhythm until the aftershocks subsided. "That's it, baby, ride it out," he murmured, pressing tender kisses to your neck and shoulder blades. Once you steadied, he carefully extracted his fingers, bringing them to his lips for another intimate taste. "So gorgeous, watching you fall apart for me."
With a gentle caress, Jihoon guided you to the plush bed, helping you settle onto the cool sheets. He lingered beside you, hands roaming over your curves, ensuring you felt cherished and adored. After draping the duvet over your body, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his warmth seeping into your skin. "Rest now, my love," he whispered, voice a low rumble in your ear.
*
The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm haze over Jihoon's bedroom. You stirred, stretching lazily as the sheets pooled around your waist. A deep breath filled your lungs, and for the first time in what felt like days, you actually felt rested.
But as you turned over, expecting to find Jihoon beside you, the bed was empty.
You blinked, still groggy, your fingers brushing over the spot where he should have been. It was still faintly warm, meaning he hadn’t been gone for long.
A second later, the door creaked open, and you glanced up—only to burst into laughter at the sight before you.
Jihoon stood in the doorway, balancing a tray of food in his hands with the most nonchalant expression, as if this was something he did every day. His messy hair stuck up in odd directions, and he was still in the oversized shirt he had slept in, but what made it even funnier was the sheer concentration on his face as he carefully maneuvered the tray.
"Don't laugh," he said immediately, his brows furrowing in fake offense. "This is a serious operation."
You grinned, sitting up. "I just never expected you to bring me breakfast in bed."
Jihoon huffed, walking over and setting the tray on the nightstand. "Well, you overworked yourself last night, so I figured I should do something nice before you start torturing yourself again today."
Your heart swelled at the thought, but you couldn’t resist teasing him. "So you do love me."
He shot you a flat look but didn’t deny it. Instead, he climbed back into bed, sitting beside you as he handed you a plate. "Eat before I change my mind and take it back."
You laughed again but obeyed, taking a bite and humming in delight. "This is actually good."
Jihoon rolled his eyes. "You act like I don’t know how to use a stove."
"Hey, I’ve seen you live off of coffee and takeout for weeks. Can you blame me?"
Jihoon didn’t respond—just gave you a side glance before stealing a bite from your plate, earning a gasp of protest from you.
Jihoon watched you eat slowly, your gaze unfocused as you stared blankly at the wall, lost in thought. He let out a quiet chuckle, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing lightly against your skin before he pulled away. The morning sunlight spilled through the window, casting a soft glow on your face, making your skin radiant, your brown eyes gleaming like honey in gold.
"You look beautiful…" he murmured, almost absentmindedly, as if the thought had simply slipped out.
You turned to him, blinking, before scoffing lightly. "I don’t even have makeup on, and I just woke up," you said, your voice still laced with sleep. Without thinking much of it, you tossed another piece of sausage into your mouth.
Jihoon smirked, shaking his head. "Exactly. And you’re still this beautiful. Isn’t that cheating?"
You let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes as you chewed. There was a brief pause before you spoke again, your voice a little quieter, more thoughtful.
"Sometimes… sometimes throughout my day, I think to myself," you started, trailing off for a second before meeting his gaze.
Jihoon tilted his head, intrigued. "Yeah?"
You swallowed your bite, a slow smile forming on your lips. "Should I show people this side of you… or should I gatekeep it?"
Jihoon tilted his head, his gaze fixed on you with quiet amusement. "And?" he prompted, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your wrist.
You chewed thoughtfully before swallowing, then smirked. "And I decided… I like being selfish."
His smile widened, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. "Oh? You want to gatekeep me, huh?"
You nodded, reaching for another bite. "Mhm. If people knew how soft you actually are—how you bring me breakfast, say sweet things without hesitation, and look at me like this—they’d riot."
Jihoon let out a soft chuckle, leaning in just enough for his shoulder to brush against yours. "So, you’re saying my tough, cold-hearted producer image would be ruined?"
"Completely," you teased, turning to him with a grin. "They’d never take you seriously again."
He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "That’s a big risk… but I don’t think I mind." His voice dropped slightly, more sincere now as his fingers laced with yours. "As long as you’re the only one who sees it."
Your breath hitched, caught off guard by how easily he could make you flustered, even after all this time.
You rolled your eyes to cover it up, squeezing his hand. "See? This is exactly why I should keep you all to myself."
Jihoon laughed, leaning over to steal another bite from your plate. "Fine, fine. Just don’t expect me to stop calling you beautiful, whether you like it or not."
You chuckled, shaking your head before nudging his shoulder with yours. "I guess I can live with that."
*
Mingyu groaned the moment he stepped into the studio, his shoulders sagging as his eyes landed on you lounging casually on the couch. You waved at him with a smug grin, your playful smirk only making his expression darker.
Jihoon, sitting at the mixing console, barely looked up as he said, “She’s helping with some directing today.”
Mingyu groaned even louder, dramatically tilting his head back.
"Why? Do you hate me, oppa?" you gasped, clutching your chest as if deeply wounded. Your over-the-top reaction only earned a tired eye roll from Mingyu, while Jihoon bit back a chuckle, clearly entertained by the exchange.
Mingyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I came in today expecting a perfectionist." He shot you both a pointed look. "Not two perfectionists."
Jihoon finally looked up, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Without another word, he gestured toward the recording booth.
"Get in there, and let’s see if we can survive this," Jihoon quipped.
Mingyu grumbled under his breath as he made his way to the booth, shooting you one last look of playful exasperation.
You just winked. "Don’t worry, oppa. We’ll only make you redo it a hundred times."
