˗ˏˋ ★ ― state of grace ˎˊ-

GENRE: high school au (they both attend a prestigious school), enemies to lovers (if you squint), badboy!jaemin x overarchiver!reader WARNINGS: kissing/making out, very heavy tension, suggestive themes, jaemin being a shamless flirt as usual, mentions of academic pressures. WORD COUNT: 610

You knew the second you were awarded a full-ride scholarship to South Korea’s most prestigious high school that nothing about this chapter of your life would be easy.

You were prepared for the long nights, the rigorous expectations, the subtle stares from students whose tuition was paid in full by generational wealth and who wore designer clothing from head to toe. You were ready to be ten steps ahead—always—just to be seen as their equal.

What you weren’t prepared for was Na Jaemin.

Na Jaemin, with his lazy smirk and sharp tongue. Na Jaemin, who always strolled into class five minutes late (or, more often than not, didn’t show up at all), looking like he owned the world and couldn’t care less if he failed it. The same Na Jaemin who managed to worm his way under your skin and stay there—smug, infuriating, and entirely too pretty for your peace of mind.

You almost considered yourself lucky for successfully avoiding him.

Until now.

“If you’re not going to listen, then what’s the point of me tutoring you?”

“I am listening,” Jaemin replies, his tone coquettish and unbothered as he leans back in his chair. The sharp lines of his face catch in the silver-diffused moonlight spilling through the classroom windows. For a moment, you’re distracted—his piercings shimmer in the light, his lips twitch with amusement, and you almost forget why you’re here.

Almost.

“I am listening,” he repeats, grin widening. “You’re just too pretty and distracting for me to focus.”

You close your eyes, desperate to summon an ounce of patience. You seriously begin questioning whether the extra credit is worth it—worth him. Because this is Jaemin, the same Jaemin who doesn’t care if he fails every subject as long as he gets to watch you struggle to keep your cool. He knows someone like you—an overachiever with something to prove—won’t pass up the extra credit, even if it means being tethered to him for two hours after school.

"Seriously, do you even know how to use your mouth for anything other than to talk back to me?" you burst, growing visibly frustrated by his antics. You stare at each other for a while, the air becoming tense and thick. It isn't until Jaemin's lips twist into a full-blown smirk that you realise that there could be a different interpretation behind your words, but unfortunately for you - it's too late.

"What else would I use it for?" Jaemin murmurs, his dark eyes dancing back and forth between your features like he is memorising every single detail, trying to imprint this flustered image of you on the back of his eyelids.

"To do this?" he questions, his tone now husky and low as he lets his lips brush against the side of your neck, slowly dragging it upwards towards your jaw.

"Or this?" His lips are now on the line of your jaw as he increases the frequency of the wet kisses he peppers across your skin, the warmth of his mouth a stark contrast against the coldness of the night. You close your eyes as a reflex, the action making Jaemin smile against your skin, knowing he has you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” he whispers, lips now barely ghosting over yours.

You don’t say a word. Just tug him forward by the drawstrings of his hoodie, closing the space between you.

And that’s when he laughs softly against your lips. A warm, wicked sound that curls right into your chest.

GENRE: slice of life, romance (i.e., a whole lot fluff), boyfriend!sunghoon x gn!reader

WARNINGS: lots of touching and kissing (non-explicit), references to past and future lives

WORD COUNT: 518

AUTHOR’S NOTE: yes this is inspired by that one clip of sunghoon reading out the comment about his moles. something about moles being markers of where you have been kissed is SO cute to me so i had to write this okay hope yall enjoy bye <333

When you were growing up, you used to dread Sundays. Not because anything particularly bad ever happened—but because they marked the end of the weekend, always arriving with the quiet warning that Monday morning and school were just around the corner.

But now, in your twenties, Sundays have become your favourite.

Because Sundays are specially reserved just for you and your boyfriend.

The hazy skyline of Seoul flickers in the far-off distance, painting every corner of your small apartment in warm, opalescent gold. The air feels lighter this morning—but different, too. Charged with something softer. Quieter. It’s one of those rare mornings when the rest of the city hasn’t quite woken up yet, and it feels like you and Sunghoon are the only two people left in the world.

You study the boy in front of you in the comfortable silence. Eyes trailing over every curve, every line, every quiet detail that softens his sleeping face. Like a painter studying their muse, you commit each feature to memory, as if trying to hold onto him in some eternal, wordless way.

Seeing him like this— here, in your bed — makes your chest swell with something you still can’t name. You’re sure it’s not just love. Not the kind you read about, anyway. Love feels too small a word to contain everything that stirs inside you when you look at him. This is deeper. Constant. All-consuming. Like a wound that aches and aches, but never fully heals.

“There’s this saying,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, “that moles show where your past lover kissed you the most.”

Sunghoon stirs slightly, meeting your gaze through the heavy blanket of his lashes. You reach up and gently trace the one on his cheek with the pad of your thumb. He doesn’t look away—just watches you with that gaze he reserves only for you: warm, unguarded, quietly fond. Sunghoon has always had a way of looking at you as if you were the only person on Earth worth looking at.

“Your past lover must’ve really adored you,” you tease, lips tugging into a sleepy smile. “You’ve got one on nearly every part of your body.”

He hums, amused. “You have them too. Two on your stomach. One on your right thumb.”

You pout, mock-offended. “That’s nothing compared to yours. I don’t think mine loved me as much as yours did.”

A brief silence settles between you. Then Sunghoon shifts closer, mattress dipping under his weight.

“I don’t know about past lovers, but…” he trails off.

And then his lips are on your skin.

First, the base of your throat—slow, careful. Then your jaw. Your temple. Your shoulder. Your stomach.

Each kiss lands with a little more intention than the last, like he’s trying to etch something into you. His mouth never lingers long in one place, instead trailing heat across your skin like he’s painting you with nothing but his lips.

You exhale shakily, a lump rising in your throat.

GENRE: angsty romance (?), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, badboy!jeno x softhearted!reader WARNINGS: kissing, heavy tension, a lil suggestive, mention of physical violence, jeno is briefly described as being a player, somewhat superficial descriptions of visible injuries (bruises, cuts, blood). WORD COUNT: 475

Come to think of it, it wasn't a rare occurrence to see Lee Jeno show up at your doorstep at ungodly hours of the night, his skin sporting fresh bruises and cuts from all the fights he was often involved in on a day-to-day basis.

You had grown quite accustomed to it, actually.

You don't know why he always came to you for help, but you never complained; you almost enjoyed his company a little too much at times.

You thought you had already seen the worst of it, but apparently you were wrong. You barely recognised the boy sitting in front of you now, face half swollen as he continues to pretend like he is perfectly fine.

"Doesn't it hurt, Jeno?" you crouch down in front of him, eyes focused on the red and blue bruises that adorned his skin.

Yeah, it had never been this bad before.

"I'm fine," Jeno breathes, though he winces when your fingertips run over a darkening bruise. You involuntarily mirror his reaction, clenching your jaw at his battered state. It killed you to see the boy you loved tear himself apart in such a brutal way. You wished you could tell him how much it hurts you to see him like this, but you thought it was perhaps better that Jeno wasn't made aware of your growing feelings for him—partly because of his long history with girls.

You weren’t naïve. You’d heard the rumors. About his temper. His past. His ties to people you were probably better off avoiding. But you’d always believed in making up your own mind.

And that’s how you ended up here—in the quiet of your apartment, nursing the wounds of a boy the world had already decided was too far gone.

"Don't worry about me,” he says, dark pupils flickering from your worried eyes to your pouted lips. You shiver under his curious gaze, fighting against your ever racing thoughts to keep your composure.

You curse quietly when he flinches at your touch again, an apology quickly slipping from your mouth. You don't know what came over you, but you suddenly felt a boost of confidence when you let your fingers trail over Jeno's skin, rubbing each and every mark softly.

Before you even know it, you find yourself kissing the bruises and cuts embellishing Jeno's face and neck, cautiously, so as to not worsen the pain he was already experiencing.

"It hurts now," he murmurs faintly, his eyes closed as he exhales deeply from his mouth.

"Where?" you ask, hand resting on his jaw as his half-opened eyes now pierce through yours. It's quiet for a moment, the tension in the air almost suffocating.

"Here," he whispers back just as your lips trace over the curve of his lips, "It hurts right here," he repeats again.