pairing: donor! jaehyun x client! reader I genre: smut | words: 12k+
warnings: STRICTLY 18+
an: donor jaehyun is here and he’s super sweet! i think this is the most fun i had writing for this series hehehe ;) i just love me my valentine, roses, cheeky gentleman. anyways, i’ll stop talking now, it’s time to be taught how to touch! and figure it out! - with love, c
you eyed the coupon clutched in your hand, the glossy paper crinkling under your fingers. it’s your birthday gift from your friends, a prepaid session at that new clinic that’s been receiving all the hype since it opened a couple of months ago.
according to the reviews, the neo orgasm clinic has surpassed people’s expectations in every possible way. not just with how sleek their setup is or their promise of discretion but also — the donors themselves. effortlessly attractive. professional. patient. skilled in ways that leave clients lingering in their reviews, revealing just enough to make your ears burn.
and you know damn well you needed it.
twenty-something now and you’ve mastered the art of dodging real-life conversations about your sex life. it’s easy to laugh it off or pretend you know what your friends are talking about because in some way, you kind of do? i mean, you’ve read all about it! in books, in fanfictions. in fact, all the knowledge you have about sex probably comes from reading about it.
when it comes to real life though? you stall. every time — no awkward firsts. no impulsive decisions. not even quiet attempts on your own. just you, untouched and curious, stuck somewhere between knowing and experiencing.
the coupon’s tagline stares back at you, catching your eye for what feels like the hundredth time:
make your fantasies come true. book now. you deserve it.
you let out a quiet breath. because it’s not just the words. it’s the timing. the way it landed in your life like a question you’ve been avoiding finally demanding an answer.
you’ve already imagined it all — the rush of sensation you’ve only ever read about.
what would it feel like to finally chase that lust for real?
before you could second guess yourself, you pull up the clinic’s website on your laptop. you read through sections you pretend you’re only skimming. policies. confidentiality. client care.
then you take a huge breath before finally convincing yourself to click the appointment section.
✚ BOOK NOW ✚
“it’s just booking,” you murmur, under your breath, like saying it out loud will make it less real.
step 1: medical verification – a form requesting a recent full panel STI test within the last month.
your brows knit slightly. weirdly enough, even though you were an extra virgin, you had just gotten a recent check up — it was like another sign from the universe to continue on.
you upload your medical form with ease. the next page loads and your breath catches at the list.
step 2: sexual preferences & boundaries – check all acts you’re open to exploring with your donor. this does not guarantee they will occur. your donor will review and operate within your boundaries at all times.
your fingers tighten around your mouse, each click of a checkmark making your ears burn brighter than ever. your cursor moves. hesitates. selects. unselects. then selects again.
☑️ blowjob
☑️ clitoral stimulation
☑️ domination
☑️ dirty talk
☑️ fingering
☑️ guidance
☑️ hand job
☑️ kissing
☑️ masturbation
☑️ nipple play
☑️ oral
☑️ praise
☑️ vaginal penetration
you look at your final list. pretty tame considering you passed over more vulgar options like choking, spanking, vaginal fisting, threesome, toys, etc.
but even then, your list is still intimidating for a virgin.
step 3: why are you booking this appointment?
a blank box appears. you stare at it longer than you expected to. because suddenly — this feels personal. you compose your thoughts before finally typing:
“i’ve spent years lost in books about intimacy, learning every detail from pages that make my heart race. but i’ve never experienced it. no touches. no real connections. not even with myself. just endless curiosity and a longing to feel what i’ve only imagine. i’m hoping this can help me turn fantasy into something real. i want to finally awaken that part of me, guided by someone who knows what they’re doing.
you hit enter, the text saving with a soft confirmation.
step 4: choose your donor.
this should be the easiest part. you tell yourself that. just scrolling. just looking. just choosing the boy you imagine in all your books. nothing serious.
profiles load one by one. each polished. each composed. carefully written descriptions.
you scroll and scroll until —
jung jaehyun. the most valuable donor.
his photo catches your attention — handsome, sharp features, an inviting smile and dark hair falling just so. your pulse stutters and almost instinctively, you click on him.
his reviews were endless:
“jaehyun does a great job at adjusting to whatever you want!”
“if you’re nervous, choose him. gentle yet commanding, and the praise? leaves you floating.”
“he’s so pretty to look at and god…that voice…i was wet way before he even touched me.”
“jaehyun made me feel so special…incredibly patient, nothing felt rushed, it was perfect.”
“he lowkey broke my back but i would do it again”
“'he made my first time feel like a dream i didn't know i needed. so attentive. pure magic.”
“fuckkkkkkkkk, can everyone cancel their appointments with him so i can take all the days?”
“too. fucking. good.”
“if it's your first time in this clinic, or your first time in general, booking jaehyun is a guaranteed good time. 127/10 will cum again.”
every single one felt like a magnetic pull and before you could even realize what you were doing. you were inserting the coupon code and clicking BOOK NOW.
Neo Orgasm Clinic Consultation: CONFIRMED
Donor: Jaehyun Jung
Date of Consultation: April 30, 2026
you stare at the screen, heart pounding, because it’s done. there’s no undoing it now.
✚ THE CONSULTATION ✚
the days leading up to today had been a blur of restless nights. you’ve checked the booking confirmation a dozen times just to check if it was real or if you somehow imagined the whole thing.
and now you’re here, heart hammering as you push through the doors.
the lobby envelops you immediately, a curated haven designed to soothe. soft golden light spills throughout the room, cream colored walls that were easy on the eyes, plush armchairs in neutral tones and the subtle scent of lavender and eucalyptus. everything about it is calming, grounding, whispering relax with every breath you take.
but even then, your feet feel rooted to the spot, nerves twisting into knots. you have half the mind to turn and flee before anyone notices. but a voice calls out softly from the reception desk, smooth and reassuring.
“welcome to the clinic.”
you look up to see the receptionist, johnny, his nametag reads. he was sitting behind a computer, flashing you a warm smile as if he can sense the storm inside you. even he was handsome, and you’re pretty sure you saw his profile on the website with the words the first donor.
“you feeling nervous?,” he adds.
you try to laugh it off as you make your way over to him, but it comes out shaky, a breathy sound that betrays you, “y-yeah, this is new for me.”
he nods, no judgment in the motion. just understanding, “it’s new for a lot of people, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”
his words ease the tightness in your chest just a little bit.
“what’s your name?” he asks next.
“y/n l/n,” you manage, voice steadier now.
he types it in with a few clicks, his screen reflecting in his eyes as he pulls up your file.
“alright ms. y/n, donor jaehyun will be out in a few minutes,” he says, that smile returning, soft and encouraging, “in the meantime, please review your file then click agree if everything is okay. your consent is required for everything.”
he hands you a tablet carefully – the screen already glowing with your details. you take it with trembling fingers, murmuring a thank you as you retreat to one of the chairs. sinking into the cushions.
your thumb hovers over the agree button, ears burning red, pulse racing so loud you fear johnny could hear it. with a deep inhale, you finally tap it, the screen flashing with the words:
welcome to neo orgasm clinic.
you don’t know how many times you read it before the door to the right side of johnny opens and out steps the most valuable donor.
jung jaehyun.
he’s taller than you expected, his frame filling the space effortlessly, handsome in a way that steals your breath, his casual soft grey polo making him look softer than his large frame, while his dark hair falls slightly tousled, angling his face perfectly.
his pictures don’t do him justice. you’ve never seen a man more beautiful.
and the realization crashes over you, twisting your nerves into something sharper. you feel so nervous you think you might throw up, hands clammy against the tablet.
he makes his way over to you with unhurried steps.
“good afternoon,” he says, and fuck, those reviews were right. he’s only said two words and his voice, deep and smooth, has got you hooked. so hooked that you don’t even reply, just staring at him, mouth dry, brain short-circuiting under the weight of his proximity.
he tilts his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips, amused, like he’s trying to hide his laugh but the deep dimples carving into his cheeks give him away completely.
“are you ms. y/n?” he asks, fully smiling at you now, the expression lighting up his features and making your heart stutter.
you clear your throat, the sound awkward and too loud in the quiet lobby, “uhm–yeah, that’s me, sorry mr. jung…i’m so nervous i think i might pass out,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, heat flooding your face.
his eyes widen a bit at that, concern threading through, softening his gaze into something genuinely caring.
“c’mon, let’s get you some water,” he says, holding his hand out to you.
you hesitate for a split second, then place your hand in his, the warmth of his skin against yours making you even more nervous. he gives a gentle squeeze, just enough to guide and lead you towards one of the consultation rooms.
the door opens into another pocket of calm – neutral tones, a comfortable couch facing a low coffee table, an armchair across it and a small side table with a pitcher of water and glasses.
jaehyun releases your hand once you’re inside, gesturing for you to sit on the couch as he pours a glass of water for you. he hands it to you with another one of those dimpled smile, settling into the armchair across from you.
“take your time,” he says, sitting comfortably, the tablet now in his hands, “we can talk through everything at your pace. no rush.” his eyes meet yours patiently, waiting for you to find your footing in this new reality.
you sip the water slowly, the cool liquid steadying the flutter in your chest as you sink deeper into the couch, focusing instead on the vase of roses in the middle of the coffee table.
jaehyun sits across from you, his posture relaxed yet attentive. he’s scrolling through your file, his expression neutral, professional, but not cold. he’s taking way longer to read it than one should and you can tell he’s letting you get used to the space. to let the initial shock of his presence and this whole thing reside a bit.
minutes pass like that until he sets the tablet aside, looking up slowly, his gaze catching on the way you’re biting your lip, a nervous habit you can’t quite shake.
“y/n,” he calls out your name, softly, like the two of you are just friends catching up over coffee. the informality of it disarms you, pulling the air from the room into something warmer.
“i know this can be nerve-wracking,” he continues, his voice a low, reassuring hum, “are you sure you’re ready for this?”
he’s gentle. so gentle. it catches you off guard. you look at him, surprised. you were sure he was here to convince you to go through with it — after all, this is still a business. but…there’s no sales pitch in his tone.
“what?” you say, the word slipping out softer than intended, laced with confusion.
he just smiles at you, that dimpled curve returning patient and unforced.
“there’s no proper timeline to these kinds of things,” he explains, his words measured, like he’s sharing a quiet truth rather than reciting policy, “it’s your body. your life. your choice when you’re ready.”
you take his words in, letting them settle over the whirlwind in your mind, easing the knot of anxiety that's been building since you stepped through the clinic's doors.
“i-i am ready,” you admit, your voice gaining a touch of steadiness as you meet his eyes, “it’s just i…don't really know how to start this conversation.”
he nods, his expression shifting to one of quiet understanding. it’s as if he's seen this hesitation before, not as a hurdle to overcome, but as a natural part of the path.
“that’s okay,” he replies, his tone encouraging without pressure, “starting can be the hardest part. maybe we begin with what brought you here? your file mentions this is your first time exploring sex…what made you decide now?”
you hesitate for a moment. jaehyun’s eyes remain steady on yours like a quiet invitation to share as much or as little as you want.
“it was…a gift,” you start, “for my birthday…but i have been curious for a while…i just always held back. books and stories were enough,” you pause, glancing down at your hands, now folded in your lap, “but turning another year older made me realize i don’t want to just keep reading about it.”
“that takes real courage,” he says softly, “turning those stories into something real isn’t simple, especially when they’ve been your safe space for so long.”
his words land gently, validating the swirl of emotions you’ve kept bottled up and a faint smile creeps onto your lips, the first genuine once since you arrive.
“it does feel like the right time,” you reply, your voice steadier not, “the clinic’s reviews…and yours specifically…made it seem less intimidating. like it could be empowering instead of overwhelming.”
he smiles in return, “i’m honored that came through— our goal is to always create that sense of empowerment, no judgments, just support as you explore at your own rhythm.”
he glances briefly at the tablet in his hands, then sets it aside, focusing fully on you.
“it sounds to me like you’re interested in a gentle introduction without rushing into anything too intense. is that right? or has anything changed since filling out the form?”
you pause, letting his words sink in.
“no…that sounds right—i want to be taught, guided through it all, so i can experience every bit i’ve imagined.”
a subtle smile curves his lips, warm and knowing, as if he’s heard echoes of your words from others but savors the uniqueness in yours.
“i can definitely do that for you,” he replies, leaning forward a just a fraction, “i’ll guide you step by step, help you feel every sensation you’ve read about…all you have to do is show up.”
you nod slowly, every second gets more real than the last.
“would you like to proceed with booking your session?” jaehyun asks, a reassuring smile on his face. like it was okay and totally not a waste of his time if you chose not to.
“yes,” you nod after a while, “i would like to proceed.”
jaehyun’s eyes light up with a quiet approval, “perfect,” he says, his smile deepening, revealing those dimples that you can’t stop noticing, “how does may 3 work for you?”
may 3. just two days away. this is it – the threshold between fantasy and reality. it’s now or never.
“sounds good,” you say, your voice gaining a quiet strength, sealing the choice with a steady exhale.
“okay y/n, i’ll see you in two days,” he says, his voice carrying a subtle promise laced with the kind of steadiness that eases the last knots of doubt in your stomach.
and for the first time, the stories feel like previews to your own unfolding chapter, and you’re ready to turn the page.
Neo Orgasm Clinic Session: CONFIRMED
Client: Y/N L/N
Donor: Jaehyun Jung
Date of Session: May 3, 2026
✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚
you enter the lobby right on time, not a second too early and not a second too late. you’ve chosen comfort over anything flashy, dressed in slightly oversized grey sweats and an off the shoulder sweater hoping that it would make this feel more casual and not some grand event.
johnny greets you, “perfect timing, ms. y/n you can go ahead to the private rooms, jaehyun’s waiting for you in suite 14.”
you thank him, letting your feet carry you step by step, each one making your heart race wildly in your chest.
as suite 14 gets closer, it hits you then – you never once asked what to expect behind the door. no details on the setup. the realization sends a fresh wave of uncertainty but before it can pull you back, the door swings open.
and there’s jaehyun. looking every bit as handsome as before, except this time he looked like comfort—with the simple white t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and chest, paired with plaid pajama pants that hang low on his hips, making this feel like a lazy sunday rather than clinical encounters.
“hey y/n,” his dimples flash like a secret shared just for you, “come on in,” he says, tone warm and inviting, stepping aside to make space.
you return the smile, feeling the edges of your tension soften under the casual welcome.
you scan the room quickly — it was nothing like you imagined at all. just an average comfy bedroom, the kind you’d sink into after a long day. there’s a king sized bed draped in white sheets piled with soft pillows, a full length mirror tucked in the corner, plush carpet that muffled your steps and sultry music currently playing from somewhere.
the only thing that stands out, adding a layer of unexpected sweetness, are the vases brimming with fresh roses scattered throughout the room – on the nightstand, the dresser, the table against the wall – shades of deep red and soft pink, like a boyfriend had orchestrated this as a surprise for a quiet night in with his partner. it’s intimate, thoughtful and it tugs at something soft in your chest, making the space feel less like a session room and more like a private haven.
“you didn’t have a hard time getting here, did you?” jaehyun asks, his voice low as he closes the door behind you with a soft click.
he lingers there for a moment, watching you from behind as you take it all in, his shoulder lightly propped against the wall, giving you that space to breathe.
you turn toward his voice, “this is not what i expected at all,” you blurt, the words spilling out, “and no, i got here really easily.”
he smiles softly, the expression crinkling the corners of his eyes as he pushes off the wall and takes a measured step towards you.
“do you like it? i noticed you were looking at the roses during our last meet up…thought it would help.”
you nod, a warmth blooming in your chest — god, he’s perfect. like the best romantic lead stepping straight out of your favorite book, all effortless charm and quiet insight.
“yeah…roses are my favorite.”
he nods in return, closing the distance with another step, his presence pulling you in without force.
“i didn’t think you’d notice,” you add.
he hums thoughtfully, “of course i noticed.”
duh, you think — that’s part of his job, being this attentive, tuning into every little detail about his client. you just weren’t aware he was already taking that many notes. plus the way he talks to you doesn’t make it feel like this was just his job.
he takes another step closer, the air between you thickening just a touch.
“i’m sure you already read the terms and conditions over and over,” he teases lightly, like you two were in on some inside joke because he knows your love for reading, “but just a quick reminder – nothing happens without your consent and we can stop whenever you want.”
he’s so close now that you can feel the subtle heat radiating from his body. he leans down, bringing his gaze level with yours, those deep brown eyes locking in with gentle intensity.
“are we clear on that?” he asks softly, and you catch the fresh mint on his breath, clean and inviting.
you bite your lip, nodding up and down, the motion automatic as your heart races.
“i’m gonna need words, love,” he says so casually, the endearment rolling off his tongue like it’s the most natural thing and — oh my godddd, this is really the start of your own fanfiction.
“yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel, “i know the rules.”
he brings his hand up then, palm open and inviting. you hesitate for just a heartbeat before slipping your hand into his, the warmth of his skin enveloping yours in a gentle grip that feels surprisingly reassuring.
he starts guiding you deeper into the room, his steps slow and unhurried. you thought he was heading straight for the bed like the next inevitable step in this unfolding scene. but when you walk right past it, your brows furrow, glancing up at him, confusion flickering across your face.
he catches your look and offers a small, knowing smile, releasing your hand only to lower himself against the side of the bed with casual ease. then he pats the space right in front of him, between his outstretched legs.
“are we gonna do it on the floor?” the question tumbles out – this isn’t how you pictured your first time to go. not when there’s a perfectly inviting bed just inches away.
he shakes his head, the motion gentle but firm, “no, not yet…come on,” he says, his voice light with encouragement, “i don’t bite,” he adds, the tease curling at the edges of his words, drawing a reluctant chuckle from you.
you finally take your seat, sliding into the space between jaehyun’s legs on the soft carpet.
as you settle, you realize the full-length mirror is positioned directly in front of you, reflecting the two of you in this intimate arrangement.
his hands find your shoulders then, fingers pressing in with a deliberate slowness, starting to massage the tension there in firm, circular motions that coax the stiffness from your muscles.
he pulls you back toward him gradually, giving you time to adjust, until your back completely melts against his chest, the solid warmth of him grounding you. the fabric of his white t-shirt brushes your skin where your sweater has slipped and you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your spine.
“relax, baby,” he murmurs, right by your ear, his breath warm and even, “you have to trust me for this to work.”
before you can respond, he lands a soft kiss just below your earlobe, the light press of his lips sending a shiver racing down your neck, making you hold your breath as goosebumps rise throughout your skin.
“you said you wanted to be taught,” he continues, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you, “and i’m here to teach.”
you exhale shakily, leaning into him a fraction more, the scent of his clean soap mingling with the faint floral notes from the roses. it’s overwhelming in the best way – his body a solid wall of warmth behind you, the mirror capturing every subtle shift.
his fingers pause on your arms, then one hand lifts gently to turn your head softly toward him like he’s handling something precious. he tilts your chin up, eyes locking into yours, dark and intent but softened by that reassuring smile.
“have you ever kissed anyone?”
you nod, the admission slipping out shyly, “a couple times…but…i was drunk each time.”
heat creeps up your cheeks but his expression doesn’t shift to judgment. he just nods in understanding, thumb brushing once along your jawline.
“just follow my lead, okay?”
the words are simple and before you can overthink it, he’s leaning in, closing the small distance to press his lips to yours, starting with slow, innocent pecks. each one is light, testing, feather-soft. your eyes flutter shut, the only thing in your mind is the warmth of his mouth.
then he deepens it, his lips sucking gently on yours, a little pull on the bottom one, then the top, drawing out the contact so each kiss lingers. the rhythm shifts, more deliberate, and when his tongue traces along the seam of your lips, memories from all those books flood back – the cues, the surrender.
you part your mouth open for him instinctively, inviting him in and he takes it with a low hum of approval that resonates against your chest. he tastes like toothpaste and vanilla chapstick and you're slowly coming to realize how kissing is so much better when you’re not just reading about it.
your hand lifts on its own, fingers threading into the soft strands of his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly in this awkward angle but enough to pull him closer.
the hand on your jaw moves then, trailing down your side with deliberate slowness, fingertips grazing the hem of your sweater before dipping beneath, skimming the bare skin of your waist.
he breaks the kiss off abruptly, both of you panting for air, his lips tingling and swollen. you wonder if yours matches his.
“arm’s up,” he instructs, voice roughened at the edges. you follow without question. he tugs the sweater up and off in one smooth motion, setting it aside and leaving you in your bra and sweats.
“look at you,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending another shiver through you. his chin settles over your shoulder giving you no choice but to stare ahead at the mirror. your reflection stares back — your face flushed pink, lips matching his, eyes wide with a mix of nerves and building heat.
his fingers move to the clasp of your bra, unbuckling it with a quick, practiced flick that loosens the straps instantly. he slides the fabric down your arms slowly, letting it drop to the carpet beside your sweater, the cool air hitting your bare skin and making your nipples harden immediately.
you watch your chest rise and fall in quick pants, each breath pulling your breasts up and down, the motion exposing the rush of heat flooding your body, the tangle of nerves twisting in your gut, the raw shyness of being this naked in front of someone else for the first time.
before you can completely shy away, his hands are right there again, palms flattening against your stomach, fingers splaying wide as he holds you steady against his chest, pressing just enough to remind you he’s in control.
“beautiful,” he whispers right into your ear, his breath hot and steady, and you can feel his gaze locked on your reflection, taking in every inch of you like he’s memorizing it.
then he reaches for one of your hands, his grip loose but insistent as he drags it upward, guiding your palm to cup your own breast, your fingers brushing the curve tentatively at first.
“touch yourself.”
his voice drops to a commanding timbre, low and rough. you hesitate for a split second, heart hammering, but the way he looks at you urges you on — your fingers curl slightly, squeezing the soft flesh, thumb grazing over your nipple experimentally. it hardens further under your touch, a spark of unfamiliar pleasure shooting through you, making you hold your breath.
he watches in the mirror, his free hand now inching lower toward your waistband, but he doesn’t push yet.
“just like that, pretty girl,” he encourages, voice softening just a touch, lips pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“squeeze a little harder — roll your nipple between your fingers. tell me what it does to you.”
your fingers tighten as instructed, the pressure sending a fresh wave of heat blooming across your skin, shooting straight down to your core, making your pussy clench emptily. the sensation is raw and new, like your body’s been holding back this fire until now.
“f-feels good,” you admit, your voice shaky and breathy, barely above a whisper.
“yeah, it makes you wanna moan, doesn’t it?” he teases, that small, playful smirk curling his lips, softening his commanding presence just a fraction, making him seem even more intoxicating.
you bite your lip hard, the sting grounding you as you nod, cheeks burning hotter than before.
“well, go on, let me hear those pretty sounds,” he urges, his tone dipping lower, his breath warm against your neck.
hesitation locks your throat, the idea of letting go like that in front of him feeling too exposed, too soon.
he senses it and without a word, one of his hands slides up from your stomach to take over your breast. his palm cups it fully, larger and rougher than your own touch, his thumb flicking your nipple up and down in quick, deliberate strokes.
the friction builds fast, a teasing rhythm that pulls a tiny, breathy moan from your lips before you can swallow it back, the soft sound betraying you completely, echoing in the quiet room. your head falls back against his chest at the rush of it, leaving you dizzy and wanting more.
“wanna feel even better?” he whispers, his voice a low rumble right by your ear, lips grazing the lobe as his other hand lingers at your waist, fingers hooking lightly into the band of your sweats.
all you can manage is a breathless, “please,” your body already arching subtly toward whatever comes next.
he doesn’t make you wait. his hands move with sure intent, tugging your sweats down your hips in one fluid pull, lifting your feet one by one to slide them off completely. they join the pile on the carpet, leaving you in just your underwear now — the thin cotton clinging damply between your thighs, the wet spot at the center impossible to ignore.
he reaches down and parts your legs wide, knees bending and lifting toward the ceiling like he’s opening you up for display. the view in the mirror is obscene and intimate, your bare breasts heaving with each pant, legs splayed shamelessly, his arms bracketing you like a frame.
his hands settle on your inner thighs, palms hot and steady, thumbs tracing lazy circles that inch closer to your core without touching yet, letting the anticipation coil tighter.
“look at how wet you are already,” he murmurs, nuzzling your neck as one hand drifts upward again to knead your breast, keeping that slow, rolling pressure on your nipple,
“now…,” he grabs one of your hands, sliding it down your body and stopping at the edge of your panties.
“i want you to use these fingers,” he taps on your pointer and middle finger, “—and rub yourself over your panties for me.”
his eyes meet yours in the reflection, dark with hunger but still holding back, waiting for you to follow.
your hand trembles slightly, finger hesitating at the edge of your underwear before dipping lower. you press two fingers against the damp fabric right over your clit, the cotton already soaked and clinging to your folds.
the first rub is testing, a slow circle that presses the material against your sensitive nub, a breathy moan escaping your lips – soft and needy, like a sigh you couldn’t hold back.
“that’s it,” he praises, his breath hot against your ear, watching intently as your fingers move, “just like that — feel how wet you are? circle it, press a little harder, figure out what makes you feel good.”
you obey, adding pressure as your fingers glide in tighter loops, the friction building heat that makes your hips twitch involuntarily. another moans slips out, a little louder this time, hitching as the sensation coils tighter in your belly, your pussy throbbing under the teasing barrier.
“good girl,” he whispers, leaving trails of kisses down your neck, “see how your body responds? you’re soaking right through — rub faster now, up and down.”
both of his hands are on your thighs now, his touch roaming.
your fingers continue to slide up and down the length of your pussy lips, the drag pulling a series of soft moans from you — each one higher, more desperate as the pressure mounts.
“mmm…oh,” you gasp when you hit a certain spot, your head lolling back against his shoulder.
“that's the spot – keep it there,” he chuckles slowly, the vibration rumbling through his chest into your back, “you’re doing so well…how does it feel?”
“s-so good,” you breathe out, voice shaky, as you continue rubbing over your clit, your free hand clutching at his arm for support.
“such a quick learner,” he murmurs, his hand trailing up your panties teasingly.
his fingers gently stop yours, wrapping around your wrist with a firm but careful hold as he guides your hand away from your core. you let out a quiet moan in protest but it’s cut off when he speaks again, voice low and steady.
“you’re ready for more.”
then he hooks into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your thighs in one smooth motion, the cool air hitting your exposed skin. the fabric pools at your ankles, and you kick them aside instinctively.
“touch your bare pussy now, feel how wet you really are.”
his words sends a rush of embarrassment flooding to your cheeks, mixing hot with the arousal pooling low in your belly as you see it all laid out — your glistening entrance completely exposed to the cool air, clit swollen and begging for attention.
heart pounding, you let two fingers meet your bare skin, slipping easily through the wetness as you rub along your slit, tracing the soft, soaked lips from top to bottom. the direct contact is electric, no barrier to dull the sensation, and you moan louder, the sound raw and unrestrained.
“oh god… jaehyun,” you whine his name for the first time and the way it tumbles from your lips turns you on even more.
“hmm,” he hums in approval, leaning in to place a messy kiss on your shoulder, his lips lingering with a soft suck before pulling back.
“push one finger in now—slide it right along your entrance, feel how your pussy opens for it.”
you hesitate for a split second, then press one finger at your hole, pushing in slowly. the tight ring of muscle gives way with a wet squelch, your walls clenching around the intrusion as you sink deeper, inch by inch.
another tiny moan escapes you as you hold your breath. the fullness is strange but intoxicating, your finger buried to the knuckle inside your heat.
“good girl,” jaehyun praises, his breath warm against your ear, and you could feel your walls react around your digit.
“move it in and out now — slow strokes, tell me what you feel.”
you pump your finger experimentally, drawing it out before sliding back in, the drag pulling another moan from your throat, breathier and higher.
“mmm… it’s… warm…and—fuck—tight,” you gasp, the slick sounds echoing softly as you find a tentative rhythm.
“perfect — add the second one,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe, “push them both in together, stretch yourself a little.
swallowing hard, you ease a second finger alongside the first, the added thickness making your pussy stretch with a delicious burn.
“curl them up toward your belly — that’s the spot that’ll make you see stars.”
you thrust them deeper, curling as he said, the tips brushing a spongy patch inside that sends sparks shooting through you, exactly like he said it.
“jaehyun–,” you moan breathily, hips jerking forward into your hand as you start to pump, in and out, curling on every upstroke.
“fuck, yes — just like that,” he groans softly.
“keep curling, rub that spot hard. feel how your walls flutter? you’re learning so fast, baby,” his praises wash over you, punctuated by wet kisses and his warm hands roaming all over your skin
after a while, you start getting the rhythm of it all, instinct taking over as your body chases after the sensation — fingers plunging faster, curling with precision, thumb occasionally grazing your clit. soft moans continue to spill from you, your head falling back against his chest, thighs trembling as the pleasure builds like a wave.
“that’s it, my perfect girl,” he whispers, lips pressing fervent kisses along your neck and shoulders, anywhere his mouth can reach, tongue flicking out to taste your skin.
“look at you fucking yourself so well — your pussy’s dripping down your hand. don’t hold back, chase it.”
but as the heat continues to rise, coiling tighter in your core, it starts to feel overwhelming, the intensity bordering on too much, your fingers falter, and — you stop abruptly, pulling them out halfway.
“fuck—wait,” you pant, chest heaving, a whine edge in your voice as you try to catch your breath.
“what’s wrong?” he asks immediately, voice laced with gentle concern as he lifts his head to meet your eyes in the reflection.
“my stomach felt weird,” you reply, cheeks burning with the admission, your fingers hovering uncertainly at your entrance.
he adores your innocence in that moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he presses a tender kiss to your jaw.
“good weird or a bad weird?”
“i don’t know… it felt…hot,” you explain, voice small and breathless, your body still thrumming with unmet need.
he smiles wider, another kiss landing on your flushed skin, “that just means you’re close.”
your eyes widen in the mirror, a mix of surprise and lingering uncertainty flashing across your face, “did i mess it up?”
he shakes his head no, his tone reassuring and firm.
“no. just touch yourself again for me and this time — don’t stop until i say so.”
nodding, you slide your fingers back inside — two at once, curling right away as he taught you, resuming the rhythm, pumping steadily, the heat reigniting almost instantly. desperate moans pour from you now as the coil tightens again, faster this time, your pussy clenching rhythmically around your digits.
but when the the pressure builds to an unbearable peak —
“jaehyun… it’s… too–” you try to pull your hand away again, whimpering.
he doesn’t let you this time.
his large hand coming over yours, keeping your fingers buried deep inside as he holds you in place.
“shhh, stay with it — i've got you,” he murmurs.
his other hand slipping down to rub at your clit in firm, tight circles, pressing just right to push you over.
“let it happen, cum for me.”
the sensation completely shatters you — your walls tightening around your digits — and your first orgasm ever crashes through you so hard you can’t even contain yourself anymore, the sounds spilling out raw and desperate, echoing in the quiet room.
“ahh—jae—fuck!”
you cry, the words breaking into a high-pitched keen as your body arches off his chest, your toes curling tight against the carpet, eyes rolling back, vision blurring with stars, as your thighs clamp down around his hand, trapping him there. the pleasure pulses hot and endless, flooding every nerve until you're shaking uncontrollably, slick gushing over your fingers.
jaehyun holds you through it all, his arm banded securely around your waist to keep you from bucking too wildly, his free hand still working your clit in slowing strokes to help you ride the waves.
“that’s it, love — feel every bit of it,” he murmurs softly, his lips brushing feather-light kisses along your temples, grounding you as the tremors start to fade.
he slows his fingers gradually, letting the aftershocks ripple through you, your pussy fluttering weakly around your buried digits until the intensity fades to a warm, satisfied glow.
your breaths come in ragged pants, body limp and heavy against him, sweat-damp skin sticking to his shirt. finally, your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused at first, meeting his gaze in the mirror — dark eyes full of pride and something deeper, more possessive.
with a gentle tug, he guides your hand out of your pussy, your fingers emerging slick and shining with your cum, the wet pop audible in the stillness.
“look at yourself, look at your pretty pussy,” he instructs, voice husky and commanding, as he lifts your hand between you.
your eyes snap to the reflection, cheeks flushing anew at the sight — your thighs splayed wide, pussy flushed and puffy, entrance gaping slightly from the stretch, glistening with arousal that drips down toward your ass.
you watch, mesmerized, as he brings your slick digits up to his lips, parting them to take them inside his mouth. his tongue swirls around your fingers, sucking deliberately, drawing your cum off them with slow, savoring pulls — hollowing his cheeks like it's the sweetest treat he's ever had.
you stare wide eyed, arousal stirring fresh despite the exhaustion, a new heat blooming in your belly as you watch him devour your juices.
the way his eyes lock on yours, the soft hum of approval vibrating against your skin — it's filthy and captivating, making you wonder how it tasted, what it felt like on his tongue.
“how does it taste?” you ask, finally finding your voice, breathy and tentative, your gaze flicking from his mouth to his face.
he smirks, releasing your fingers with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting them briefly before he licks his lips, “you want to know?”
you nod, heart racing again, curiosity overriding any lingering shyness.
without a word, he cups the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss — deep and unhurried, his tongue sliding past your lips to share the flavor, your own arousal coating his mouth as he explores yours.
you moan softly into it, tasting yourself on him, the intimacy of it sending a shiver down your spine as his free hand strokes your thigh soothingly, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin.
the kiss deepens, growing hungrier, his tongue stroking yours in firm sweeps while you tilt your head for more.
you shift, turning around in his arms for a better angle, rising onto your knees between his spread legs, hands sliding up his chest over the thin shirt. your fingers catch the hem, tugging insistently, suddenly aware he’s still fully clothed while you’re completely exposed.
jaehyun breaks the kiss just long enough to yank it off swiftly over his head, tossing it aside with your clothes, revealing the sculpted ridges of his eight pack abs — hard, defined lines flexing under smooth skin, a dark happy trail snaking from his navel down and sharp v-lines disappearing into his pants.
you pause, eyes widening as you admire him, one hand trailing down his abs, “god…i don’t think any fictional man can compare anymore,” you murmur, voice laced with awe.
he laughs low and rich, the sound vibrating through his chest, clearly enjoying this bolder side of you over the earlier nerves.
“good thing i’m real and all yours,” he winks, dimples flashing as he pulls you back in for another kiss, lips claiming yours with renewed heat.
“all mine…for another hour or two,” you tease breathlessly when you pull back, a playful glint in your eyes.
his dimples deepen then, eyes darkening with amusement and desire, “let’s not waste a second then,” he teases.
“that would be a shame,” you say quietly, a smile curving your lips before your graze drifts lower, lingering on the thick bulge straining against his plaid pajama pants.
“you can take it off, you know?” he says, reading your mind, his hand guiding yours to the waistband.
you nod, cheeks heating as you shyly hook your fingers in and slide the pants down his hips, exposing the black boxers that do nothing to hide his impressive length – thick and throbbing visibly beneath the thin material.
“take that off for me too, sweet girl,” he instructs, voice firm and coaxing, eyes locked on yours.
you obey without hesitation, palms sliding up his thighs before tugging the boxers down, watching as his cock springs up immediately — heavy and erect, veined shaft curving slightly upward, the flushed head already beading pre-cum.
he lifts his hips to help, kicking the pants and boxers off and you can’t help but gulp at the sight of him fully exposed. with your pulse racing, you reach out without asking, fingers wrapping around his length at the base.
his hips buck up sharply into your grip, a low grunt escaping his throat as you surprisingly squeeze experimentally, feeling him twitch and harden further in your palm.
“what are you thinking about?” he asks, noticing your silence.
“i’m comparing it to my fingers,” you say quietly, stroking once from base to tip before meeting his gaze straight on, “this is gonna hurt, isn’t it?”
jaehyun slowly guides your hand towards his mouth, eyes on yours the whole time when he lets his spit slowly drool from his lips to your palm. it’s vulgar and messy and it makes your head spin.
then he brings your hand back down to his cock, guiding you into a slow pump along his shaft, his abs tightening under where your other palm rests.
“it might sting at first, yeah—especially since you’re new to this,” he admits honestly, making your thumb circle the sensitive underside of the head with your joined hands, smearing his pre-cum down the length, “—but i’ll go slow, make sure you’re wet and ready. you’ll take me like you were made for it…until you’re begging for it.”
his words send fresh heat flooding your core, pussy clenching emptily as you watch your hand glide over his cock. he groans softly, hips rolling up into each stroke, free hand tangling in your hair to tilt your face up.
“keep stroking me like that, twist your wrist at the top.”
you follow his guidance, earning a grunt from him.
“yeah—fuck, baby, just like that.”
it’s hot. he’s hot. the sounds he makes are hot.
you pump faster, mesmerized by him, feeling his cock throb thicker in your fist. his breaths grow ragged, eyes half lidded as he watches you, then pulls you up for a messy kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with your strokes.
his hand leaves yours, sliding down your back to cup your ass firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lifts you up slightly. your knees spread wider on the carpet, ass rising into the air, pussy exposed and dripping from behind.
and without warning, he presses one long finger against your slick entrance and pushes inside, stretching your walls with a single smooth thrust.
you moan loud into the kiss as your grip on his cock tightens, strokes pausing mid-pump while you adjust to the intrusion.
it’s so much different from fingering yourself — his finger is thicker, longer, moves with purpose you can’t anticipate.
he drags it out slow, then slams back in, curling deep against that soft spot inside, sending sparks exploding through your nerves.
you try your best to resume pumping his cock, hand jerking unevenly along the slick length, but the sensation overwhelms you. after a few shaky strokes, you give up, fingers digging into his muscular thigh for anchor as your mouth hangs open against his, breaths panting hot and desperate.
he breaks the kiss to nip at your jaw, lips brushing your ear as he whispers praises, voice rough and commanding, “so fucking tight—you like that, don’t you? like it when my fingers fuck you like this.”
his digit pumps faster, plunging in and out with wet squelches, thumb now circling your swollen clit in firm presses.
and god, the not knowing makes it so much better — when he’ll curl, when he’ll thrust, when he’ll grind his palm over your clit.
nothing registers but him finger-fucking you — the stretch, the heat, the relentless pressure building low in your belly.
“you’re so wet baby, this pussy is ready to take me,” he grunts, adding a second finger without mercy, scissoring them wide to open you up, knuckles bumping your entrance as he dives deeper.
you’re a goner. your head falls to the crook of his neck, nose buried in his skin, teeth clenched, body seizing as your second orgasm crashes over you just like that. your walls clamp down hard on his fingers, creaming all over his hand, the fresh slick dripping down your thighs. your cries are muffled against his shoulder as your hips buck wildly onto his palm, chasing every brutal thrust through the waves.
jaehyun doesn’t stop, his free arm banding around your waist to hold you steady as you tremble and spasm.
“fuck, that’s it—soak my fingers, sweet girl,” he praises, watching your body shake through the mirror.
your breaths come in shattered gasps, body going limp in his hold as the aftershocks ripple through you.
he eases his fingers out slow, then brings them to your lips, “taste yourself,” he murmurs, pushing the soaked digits past your parted mouth.
you suck obediently, tongue lapping at your own release, eyes fluttering up to meet his heated gaze.
he groans at the sight, cock jerking visibly, “now get on the bed—it’s time for the real lesson.”
your eyes widen slightly, pulse racing at his words, but at this point you’re so ready for this — your body practically begging as your pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled.
you push up on shaking legs, knees wobbly from the orgasms, turning toward the bed. before you can climb on and sit down — jaehyun’s large, strong hands grip your hips, spinning you around fast. his lips crash onto your again, kissing you hungrily.
he walks you backward step by step, guiding you onto the bed. your back meets the soft sheets, sinking into the plush mattress as your legs part on instinct, thighs spreading wide. he settles between them heavy and hot, his muscular frame caging you in, his rock hard cock dragging teasingly along your inner thigh.
jaehyun breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down your jaw, to your neck, sucking hard enough to mark the skin red, drawing out a sharp moan from you.
he moves to your breasts next, mouth closing over one nipple, tongue flicking the peak before sucking on it. your body arches off the bed, pressing your chest into his face, the pull shooting straight to your core.
“jaehyun—,” you moan, the sensation so new and overwhelming in the best way possible. he switches sides, lavishing the other nipple with the same attention — suck, bite, soothe with his tongue — leaving behind a couple of dark hickeys blooming purple on your skin.
finally, he pulls back, sliding down your body until he’s on his knees. one hand wanders flat over your stomach, tracing down to your hips, then dipping to your inner thigh until his fingers reach your pussy lips, parting them open and exposing your dripping entrance and throbbing clit to the cool air.
you watch him the entire time, breath held, excitement buzzing through your veins like electricity.
jaehyun grips his cock at the base, sending you a playful smirk before he guides the flushed head up through your folds – but not inside.
he slides it along your slick, coating himself in your arousal, then swirl the tip around your clit in lazy circles, letting you feel him skin to skin.
the pressure edges you mercilessly, building that coil together once again. you whine high and desperate, hips bucking up to chase the friction, needing more.
“please….jaehyun.”
he smiles down at you, dimples flashing wickedly, eyes locked on your pleading face.
“gotta make sure you’re nice and wet, sweet girl.”
he doesn’t give in just yet. tapping his cock against your clit — once, twice, three times — each tap leaving you wanting more. then he drags down your folds again, nudging your hole but pulling back every time, teasing the stretch.
your whines turn to full begging, thighs trembling, your pussy getting wetter and wetter with ever second.
when he finally deems you ready, he leans over to snatch the condom on the nightstand, ripping the packet open with his teeth and rolling the latex down his length with practiced ease, the sight making your mouth water. you had no idea who you were anymore, all you know is that you needed him. badly.
he crawls back up, face hovering inches from yours, “ready?” he asks, voice softer than it’s been the whole night, his cock nudging right at your entrance, the tip kissing your hole.
you nod frantically, hands going to the nape of his neck.
“yes—please, jaehyun, i need to feel you inside me.”
he doesn’t make you beg anymore after that, pressing forward slowly, the thick head of his cock breaching your tight ring with a wet pop, stretching you inch by burning inch.
it burns so good, fuller than his fingers, your walls yielding reluctantly to his size as he sinks deeper. you’re thankful he took the time prepping you because you can’t even imagine he’d fit if you weren’t this wet.
you shut your eyes tight, hissing sharp at the slight sting of the stretch.
jaehyun notices immediately, hips stuttering just a fraction, “you’re doing so well, love – almost there,” he grunts low, voice strained as he fights his own urges.
you’re so fucking tight, so fucking wet and it feels like heaven and torture rolled into one because he knows you’re a virgin — knows he has to go slow, let you savor it.
once he bottoms out, his balls snug against your ass, he stills completely, giving you a long moment to adjust to the impossible fullness splitting you open, your pussy fluttering wild around him. he peppers your face with soft kisses, a tender contrast to the raw stretch.
you open your eyes, a little watery from the intensity and he thumbs away a tiny tear before it can fall, gaze locked soft on yours.
“you still with me?” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin.
you nod quick, but he tilts his head, dimples faint in that patient smile, “what did i say about words?”
“i’m with you,” you confirm, voice breathy, hands clutching his biceps.
“i’m gonna move now, okay?”
“okay,” you whisper, pulse thundering.
he starts thrusting slow, pulling out halfway then pushing back in with a smooth roll of his hips, letting you get used to the drag.
the pain starts subsiding quick, morphing into sparks of pleasure that bloom deep in your belly, your body starting to react to it as your hips buck up instinctively to match his slow rhythm, chasing more.
“faster, please,” you plead, voice wrecked.
he obliges without question, picking up the pace slightly.
he hikes one of your legs higher, hooking it over his waist, opening you wider — and then he’s hitting it. every snap of his hips grinding right against that spot inside. you moan loud, unrestrained, the sound ripping from your throat.
“yeah, there we go, baby, let me hear you — you sound so fucking pretty,” he praises, voice rough with lust, urging you on as sweat beads on his temple.
“right there, right there, right there, please jaehyun—,” your whines mixes with your moans, hands wrapping around his torso, nails scraping his back to pull him closer.
he knows exactly what you need, his cock slamming that spot deeper — relentless, pounding now.
you’ve never felt anything like it, pleasure coiling vicious and hot, building to a peak that whites out your vision.
you last a couple more thrusts, walls clamping down hard before your third orgasm crashes through you fully. your entire body heats up, pussy spasming wild around his cock, mouth falling open in a breathless moan, the feeling of raw ecstasy making your eyes shut tight while stars burst behind your lids, limbs locking and trembling in his grip.
“that’s it, baby, fuck—you’re coming so hard for me,” jaehyun praises you through it, his hips grinding deep to drag out every pulse.
“look at you, creaming all over my cock, squeezing me so tight — perfect little pussy.”
you barely have time to catch your breath and process the fact that you’re no longer a virgin when jaehyun pulls out with a wet slide, your empty pussy clenching around nothing, as your release slides out of your hole and down to your ass crack.
you hear the sharp snap of latex being yanked off and tossed aside. and the next second – jaehyun’s hovering over you – on his knees, his length obscene and huge, flushed dark and throbbing, veins bulging. he taps the swollen head onto your parted lips.
“wider,” he commands, tone firm, eyes dark with hunger.
he definitely fucked you stupid because you obey instantly, parting your lips wider, tongue flicking out instinctively.
“good girl,” he praises low, dimples flashing wicked before he shoves his cock down your throat in one smooth thrust. it hits the back of your throat immediately, making you gag hard, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth.
you think back to all those books, the smut you devoured, and you’re prepared for this more than you thought — you force your jaw to slack, relaxing the muscles as much as possible, breathing raggedly through your nose and ignoring the tears welling fast, blurring your vision, as you let jaehyun fuck your mouth.
his hips snap forward, grunts and groans rumbling deep from his throat, so hot they vibrate straight to your core. you could listen to him forever — that raw, animalistic sound of need. it makes you horny again, pussy clenching empty, aching fresh, thighs rubbing together for some comfort.
you almost can’t believe you’ve avoided sexual acts for this long and now you have a man balls deep in your throat in the same hour you lost your virginity.
but fuck, you wouldn’t change a thing.
this was all your fanfictions exploding into reality and it’s so much hotter — thicker, messier, real sweat and musk and stretch.
jaehyun’s abs clench tight above you, “nngh–,” a low sound rattles in his throat, somewhere between a moan and a growl, “i’m gonna cum—fuck.”
he’s losing his bearings, his thrusts turning erratic and sloppy. you feel him start to pull back and it’s almost sweet how he doesn’t want to force you to swallow his cum when he’s already choking you with his cock — but your desire is ravenous, your hands shooting up to grip his ass cheeks firmly, nails digging in to yank him deeper, holding him in place. you suck harder, hollowing your cheeks, tongue swirling frantically around him.
“oh—god,” he groans, head tipping back, “you dirty, dirty girl.”
he grabs a fistful of your hair tightly, yanking your head steady as your tearful eyes lock on his — blown pupils, jaw slack, pure feral lust.
“you better swallow every drop,” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice breaking, and then he’s erupting — hot ropes pulsing straight down your throat, thick and endless. you gulp it down greedily, not spilling a bit, throat working around him until he’s spent and shuddering above you, cock twitching with aftershocks.
jaehyun finally pulls out slow, slick strands of spit and cum connecting your lips to his tip before snapping free.
you let yourself cough for a bit, finally regaining air in your lungs as he slides back down your body.
“so good for me, taking it all like that – my perfect girl,” he praises, caressing your face gently before capturing your mouth in a deep kiss, tasting himself in you.
“who taught you how to suck somene off like that, huh?” he teases, eyes sparkling wickedly as he props on his elbows, his body against yours.
you smile shyly, cheeks burning hot, biting your lip.
he grins wide, dimples carving deep, already knowing, “those books are that good?” he asks, voice playful.
you laugh bright, playfully shoving his shoulder, “yeah, well, the writers are pretty damn amazing.”
he quirks a brow high, smirk tugging, “anything else they write about that you want to try?” he waits, gaze intense, hand tracing lazy circles on your skin.
“i—uhm,” you start, voice soft, “i kinda want to ride you.”
he chuckles deep, hand roaming down your hip, squeezing the curve firm, “you gotta give me five minutes, love,” he says playful, making you laugh again, the tension easing into giddy warmth.
you’re thankful he’s not making this whole thing a bigger deal than it has to be, that he’s not treating you like something breakable just because it’s your first time.
“do they write about how it feels to be eaten out?” he smirks slow, breaking you out of your thoughts.
you nod quick, pulse racing fresh.
“let me know if the writing is as good as the actual thing,” he says teasingly.
and then he’s shifting down, strong hands spreading your thighs wide, hooking under your knees to pin you open. his breath ghosts hot over your soaked pussy before his tongue flattens, licking a long stripe up your slit from your hole to your clit, lapping your juices clean.
your head sinks deep into the pillow, back arching sharp, body reacting immediately to his touch,“god—jaehyun,” you whine high, hands flying down to grip his dark hair, tugging the strands between your fingers.
he groans into you, vibration humming straight to your core and dives in hungrily — lips sealing around your clit, sucking, tongue flicking rapid circles around the sensitive bud. your hips buck up desperately, grinding your folds against his face, chasing the pressure.
he eats you out filthily, nose bumping your clit as his tongue thrusts in, slurping every drip of your arousal. spit and cream smear his chin, dripping down.
your thighs quake around his head, heels digging into the mattress, your grip tightening in his hair as that spark builds low in your belly once again.
“jae—fuck, yes,” you gasp, legs trembling now, toes curling into the sheets.
he presses his face deeper and you shatter hard, your fourth orgasm crashing through you like fire, pussy spasming as you squirt tiny bursts against his mouth.
jaehyun drinks it down, sucking your pulsing clit to drag out every throb. your back arches off the bed, cry ripping raw from your chest, as you push his head off of you, giving yourself a moment to breathe.
his lips are glistening with your release, eyes dark and smug as he crawls beside you, sitting against the headboard as he caresses your hair.
“better than the book, yeah?” he murmurs playfully, earning an eye roll and a tired laugh from you as you calm your racing pulse.
“still wanna ride me, baby?” he asks, voice low and coaxing.
you look up at him then. in truth, you’re feeling tired, but on the other hand, you still wanted to feel it.
“c-can i?” you ask shyly.
he nods, thumb stroking your cheek, “of course you can, anything you want to do, love.”
he reaches for another condom on the nightstand. you sit up now, watching him move.
“can i put it on you?”
he gives you a soft smile, handing it over, “yeah, here.” his hand covers yours, showing you how to pinch the tip and slide it down smooth over his hard cock until it hugs him tight.
once it’s on, he guides you over his lap to straddle him, thighs spreading wide around his hips, “now…just grip the base of me like this,” he says, wrapping your fingers around his cock, steady and thick in your palm, “and sit whenever you’re ready.”
you nod, heart pounding, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. you take a soft breath before slowly, pushing down, the stretch burning sweetly.
“oh—shit,” you moans, sinking lower inch by inch, the new angle making you feel him even more, “oh my god—you feel so big.”
he tries to hide his smirk as his hands settle on your waist, rubbing soothing circles, letting you control the drop.
“take your time, sweet girl—you can do it,” he praises. then his mouth latches onto one nipple, lips sucking softly and sweetly.
and fuck, there’s a reason why he’s the most valuable donor.
you whimper, hips dipping further, taking half of his length now, walls clenching greedy around the invasion. he switches nipples, sucking the other into wet heat, humming approval that vibrates through your chest.
“fuck, you’re tight,” he groans against your skin, one hand sliding up your back to pull you closer, the other kneading your ass.
you continue until your ass meets his thighs and he’s buried balls deep, the fullness stealing your breath, pussy stuffed full and pulsing around him.
you pause there, panting, adjusting to his size. jaehyun kisses between your breasts, up to your neck, murmuring, “move when it feels good, yeah? bounce or grind—whatever you need.”
his words sink in, a gentle push to explore and figure out what your body likes.
you lift your hips slowly, slick pussy dragging up his shaft, then sink back down slow, the friction sparking fresh heat low in your belly.
then you try grinding circles next, your clit pressing firm against his pubic bone, cock buried deep and still. a soft moan slips out at that — your body likes this roll, the way it rubs that inner wall just right.
he watches close, eyes locked on your face, hands loose on your hips. and you can’t help it, he’s just so handsome and patient and everything you wanted this to be. you lean forward, capturing his mouth in a messy kiss, moaning into it as you grind harder. each second builds pressure, pussy clenching around his thickness, learning the rhythm that makes your thighs quiver.
“that’s it, baby—fuck yourself on my cock—you love it don’t you?” he breathes against your lips, still letting you lead.
“f-feels s-so full, jaehyun,” you admit in moans, bouncing slightly now, moans pouring into his mouth louder while your hips chase that rising coil, your sweat beads on your skin, tits brushing his chest with every grind.
the heat swells fast again, that now familiar ache demanding more. you rock frantically, your pace faltering as your thighs start to burn. whines escape between kisses, desperate little sounds that demand more.
“what do you need, love? tell me,” he asks, his voice husky, though his smirk says he already knows.
“need it faster—please,” you whine, nails digging into his chest.
that flips the switch.
he plants your heels firm into the mattress on either side of his hips, “hold here,” he says, guiding your hands up to grip his shoulders tight. then he takes over — hips snapping up at a punishing pace, each thrust slamming into the spot that whites out your vision, his grip on your hip hot and bruising.
you moan louder than you thought you could, your raw cries bouncing off the walls as the sound of skin slapping wet and loud fills your ears.
soon enough, your knees buckle as you collapse against his chest. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow — his strong hands grips your ass cheeks, bouncing you up and down his cock easily.
“jaehyun—fuck!”
your pussy stretches around every ruthless plunge, walls fluttering wild. he grunts by your ear, breath hot on your neck, cock throbbing thicker inside you.
“i’m–i’m gonna cum—,” you scream between clenched teeth, body seizing as the edge crashes, bringing you to your fifth orgasm.
“that’s it, baby—squeeze me just like that,” he growls low in your ear as you shatter completely, pussy convulsing violently around him, juices gushing down his shaft, pushing him to his own orgasm. he thrusts deep one last time, his cock pulsing hard as he fills the condom with thick ropes of cum.
you’re both wrecked, panting, locked together. his arms wrap tight around your back as he kisses your shoulder.
“so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, holding you close through the aftershocks.
you stay like that for a while, his hand stroking your back in lazy circles, letting you catch your breath and piece your scattered mind back together. the fullness is almost comforting, warm inside, a reminder of how thoroughly he wrecked you.
you lift your head finally, meeting his gaze, his eyes soft and searching, “you okay?” he asks, thumb brushing your cheek.
you nod, a shy smile tugging at your lips, “that was—i don’t know how that’s going to be topped…you may have set the standards too high for real men,” you say, laughing softly.
he laughs with you, deep and warm, his hand sliding up to rub your arm up and down, his soft cock still buried inside you.
“well, i’ll be here if you ever need your standards met,” he winks, smile widening, those dimples carving deep into his cheeks.
and you can’t resist it anymore — your finger reaches up sweetly, poking one dimple gently. his expression shifts to amused shock, brows lifting playfully as he catches your hand and landing a kiss on your fingertip.
“thank you,” you say sweetly, “i couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”
he pulls you down for a kiss then, soft and slow, lips moving tenderly against yours, “thank you for trusting me,” he murmurs when he pulls back as you two share a smile.
“let’s get you cleaned up.”
you nod, finally hopping off him, your pussy clenching empty around nothing, juices spilling down between your thighs, already missing that thick stretch as his cock slips free with a wet slide.
he pulls the condom off, tying it off quick before tossing it to the bin, then guides you with a hand at your lower back toward the door leading to the bathroom, your legs feeling like jelly below you.
“one last lesson,” he says smirking, “you need to pee.”
you laugh, the sound light and bubbly, “got it, i have read about that.”
he laughs then, eyes crinkling at the corners, “you gotta send me these books you’re reading…i might learn a thing or two,” he jokes, handing you a soft towel from a stack on the counter.
“go ahead, i’ll get your clothes,” he says before giving you a bit of privacy as he saunters back into the bedroom to pick your clothes off the ground.
you look at your reflection in the mirror and yeah, it does kinda scream that you just got railed in the best way possible.
you do your thing — wiping the sticky mess from your thighs before finally sitting on the toilet. you wash up softly, your pussy still throbbing tenderly, swollen lips aching sweet from the stretch and friction.
he knocks softly before peeking in, he’s back in his clothes now too while your clothes and underwear are draped over his arm.
“all good?” he asks, stepping in to lay them on the counter.
“yeah,” you say, taking the clothes, and slipping into it.
he turns away politely and it’s cute considering how he’s the only person to ever see and touch your body intimately.
you step out of the bathroom fully dressed and he walks over to you, placing his hand up, palm open just like how this all started.
“ready to head out?”
you nod, placing your hand in his, warm and steady. he leads you out the door of suite 14 and into the hallway back to the lobby, his fingers laced loosed with yours. as you’re walking, he pulls out a single red rose that he tucked between his pajama pants like the cheeky, cheeky man he is.
“for you ms. y/n.”
you try to hide your smile, cheeks warming, “thank you, mr. jung,” you giggle, taking the rose from him, the symbolism of the flower making you laugh inside – how poetic.
“is it always this sweet here?” you ask, twirling the stem between your fingers.
“it depends on the client,” he says honestly, dimples deepening as he glances sideways.
“has anyone fallen in love with a client before?” you ask, head already swrling with romantic fantasies.
he pauses to think for a bit, “i don’t think so…but i wouldn’t put it past us,” he says rationally, “we are still human after all.”
you nod at that. then you make it to the door that leads to the lobby.
“well…johnny will take care of you now,” he says, “thank you for choosing me, ms. y/n,” he smiles then, releasing your hand softly just to offer it out again for handshake.
you take it, shaking his hand, “i couldn’t have chosen a better donor,” you say softly.
then, just when you thought it was over – he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles, the brush of his mouth sending a final spark through your skin.
“come back whenever you want,” he says, sending you a playful wink, dimples flashing one last time before finally letting you step back into the lobby, your heart fluttering quietly in your chest as the door to the private suites closes behind you.
✚ END OF SESSION ✚
“welcome back,” johnny says lightly, pulling you back to reality as you walk up to the reception desk.
“how was suite 14?”
you grip the rose tighter between your fingers, body and mind still humming from jaehyun, “perfect,” you admit shyly, cheeks heating.
johnny nods approvingly, a small smile on his lips, “jaehyun’s got that effect.”
then he’s sliding a black bag towards you. you eye it suspiciously, curiosity piqued.
“a gift from us,” johnny says, eyes twinkling, “a little thank you for giving us a chance.”
you smile, grabbing the bag and thanking him before finally stepping out of the clinic and into the cool evening air.
you slide into the driver’s seat of your car, exhaling long and slow, processing everything that just happened. your body aches in the best way, the faint musk of sex clinging to your skin.
you checked the inside of the bag to find a folded white hoodie with the words ORGASM DONOR in bold letters across the chest. a laugh bubbles up from your chest, genuine and light, cutting through the post-sex haze.
you pull your phone out then, pulling up the neo orgasm’s clinic website to leave your own review:
“jaehyun is every swoon-worthy romantic lead i’ve ever read and so much more. a patient teacher, a dominant lover, the most perfect donor who made this virgin’s first time a bestseller. if your fantasies live between the lines, book him. you’ll beg for the sequel.”
✚ APPOINTMENT STATUS: COMPLETE ✚
—
18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
an: DADA IS HOMEEEEEEEEE 🫦🫦 i have survived my first military wife era!!!!!!!!!!!!!!🏆🏅….i hope you loved donor jaehyun! i wanted to make him real sweet and a quiet dom for this one,, please tell me you see the visionnnn! and please let me know what you think <333 — again, a kind reminder: this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! please don't take it too seriously :)
🩺 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated
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Mark is hot. Mark is your roommate. Why must you realize both things during ovulation week...
wc: 5.3k
warnings: explicit sexual content, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, unprotected p in v (don't do that), oral (f), spit kink i think, mark takes care of you, marks cums inside, mark knows, mark is mark, mark.
“…fuck, fuck, fuck…”
What in the hell did you walk in on?
Closing the door to your apartment behind you, quietly, twisting the knob to not make a single sound, you tip toed toward the kitchen table and set your purse down. Then your keys. Then, you jumped again.
“Fu-huck!”
His whine echoed from his room, out into the tiny hallway, into the kitchen, and up your skirt. Twisting your knees, squeezing your thighs together, you bit down on your bottom lip and cursed the fact you hadn’t gotten laid in months.
Having Mark for a roommate didn’t help.
Not when he sounded like that.
Pressing your hands into the wood, you sucked down a deep breath and shook it off. He was a male within a few feets radius of you, you didn’t want him, especially not right now, at the start of this week when you wanted anything and everything that walked. Just earlier on your walk home a street vendor complimented your legs, a catcall really, but you very well could’ve spun around and shown them to him up close.
You didn’t want Mark. You were ovulating and overstimulated and sensitive. And he’s an attractive guy, you’ve told him that before, he knows it, everyone thinks he's sexy.
His bedroom door swung open and your stomach dropped past your knees. He wore grey sweats only, and his headphones lived around his neck, his hair a mess from where they once sat on his head.
Games. Gaming. Gamer. He was playing games.
Not fucking someone into his mattress. Though it was hard to tell the difference, he sucked air harshly through his teeth just the same, no matter the activity.
Not that you listened. Or paid attention. Or touched yourself when you knew he had his hand wrapped around his cock thinking his sounds were muffled by the low beat of his nighttime playlist full of underground this guy eats, trust me rappers.
“Hey,” he smiled at you, a flash of perfect teeth with a boyish curl of his lips, “Thought I heard you come in.”
“Hi,” you sighed, standing up straight, composing yourself. Your eyes dropped to his toned middle, his perfectly sculpted chest, the silver chain hanging around his neck…
He swaggered for the fridge, coming closer to you, bodies separated by the table in the middle of the kitchen. The expanse of his back, just as honey, just as broad, just as built as his front, as his everything else. Mark wasn’t a big guy, but jesus god almighty did everything on him fit together in perfect harmony.
“How was work?” he asked, pulling a water bottle from a shelf, knobby fingers wrapping around the plastic. Arm flexing as he twisted off the cap and brought the spout to his lips, he turned to you and watched you while he drank.
A slight furrow of his brows beneath his undone hair, a pout in his lips, especially after he pulled the bottle away, the wide innocence in his eyes he wears as a facade, a trick, a ploy, because beneath that purity…
“Did you hear me?”
His smile settled into a smirk.
“Hm?” you hummed, and you watched him drag his eyes up and down your body. Glancing down at yourself you felt your cheeks flush of all color.
Bent over the table like you were, your knees had turned in. Thighs squeezing together, you practically trembled. Embarrassing. Humiliating really. Emitting a horniness reading absolutely off the charts, he could tell.
“Uh, yeah,” your voice almost squeaked. Pushing off the table you brushed your hands together and scooped up your things. “Work was… good.”
Mark leaned against a counter, his abs flexing ever so slightly. He crossed an arm over his chest and sipped his water, eyes narrowing.
“You’re lying,” he said, tongue darting between his lips, pointing at you with the bottle. Eyes glancing to his glistening lips, you withheld a whimper and shook your head.
You’ve got to get out of here.
“Not lying,” you said with the smallest of giggles, forcing some sort of smile onto your face. “I gotta shower.”
Starting for your bedroom that lived at the end of the hall, adjacent to Marks, his laugh paralyzed you. Sarcastic, knowing, sadistic. It bled into your ears, melted over your skin, and you despised what it did to your heart.
“You had your proposal today,” he started, pushing off the counter with his backside, padding over to the hall where you stood begging the bathroom to come closer to you so you wouldn’t have to withstand his presence any longer. “The big one. Your boss would be there, all the guys who think they have big dicks that own the company… Right?”
Turning slowly, very, very slowly, meeting his slightly confused expression, you nodded
“Riiiight,” he sang, voice going low and gravelly. A chill ran down your spine, one you’re hoping he didn’t notice. “I’ve listened to you all month. You’ve been dreading today, ‘cause you knew they weren’t gonna go for your team. They chose that asshole with the money, didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, and he tipped his chin up, looking down at you. The ache between your thighs, the heat beneath your skin, grew tenfold under his stare.
You could reach out, grab him, fall onto the floor, yank down his sweatpants, slip your panties aside and sink onto him. It wasn’t even about him, you think, maybe. He’s a guy. A man who chronically oozed sex appeal, who caught the eye of everyone walking down the city streets. He’d be something hot, and hard, to fill yourself with, to relieve yourself upon, getting you through this week so you didn’t have to succumb to your vibrator or your own fingers…
He licked his lips again, the tip of his tongue sliding along his bottom lip dangerously slow.
Back and forth… back and forth… back and-
“You still with me?” he asked within a breath, almost a whisper, pulling you out of a trance.
You needed to leave.
Gulping, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. Shook him out of your head. Him and his hot, shirtless self with his grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you knew he wasn’t wearing anything beneath them because the definition between his hips, down his pelvis winked at you.
“I’m fine.” Snapping your eyes open, you glared at him. “You’re right. Bad day. Thanks so much for reminding me.” You spun on your heels and stormed down the hall, stepping into your bedroom. He attempted to follow, arms shooting out at his side, eyes going wide, all signs of playing wiped from his cheeks.
“Hey, wait, I didn’t mean to do that, I was only trying to-“
You slammed your door shut.
In his face.
Mark Lee was not allowed in your bedroom, not right now. And probably not anytime in the near future. And then some.
This week sucked. A goddamned reminder that you had the worlds sexiest roommate and couldn’t do a thing about it. That the crush you’ve tried to swallow away for a year now was very much still real, very much still hanging over your head, something you can’t seem to escape. Not when your body quite literally begged you to reproduce with him.
Sighing, eyes falling shut, you threw your head back against the door.
Why Mark Lee???
Why your roommate you’ve grown tumultuously close to, closer than anyone else to you at this point in your life???
The Mark Lee who brings home girls some weekends, who goes out to party with friends he met in college, who works remotely, rarely has to leave the apartment, so he’s always here, always saying hi to you, always quick to greet you and bid you a good day when you leave in the morning…
Criminal really, how domestic it all seemed. How some days he’ll hint toward it, completely destroying weeks of suppression you worked oh so hard to build, only to now have to do it all over again.
You promised yourself you wouldn't get to this point.
That living with someone as attractive as Mark would work.
Guys and girls can be friends, you and Mark, you'd beat the stereotype.
Maybe it was time to move out.
Pushing off of your door to peel your top layers off, leaving a shirt and your skirt on to move to the bathroom with, you pulled pins from your hair and slumped onto your bed to pull your socks off.
Glancing about the space, your cozy bedroom you put together yourself, with Mark's help, he really etched himself into every part of your life.
A hoodie of his laid over the back of a chair, a pair of his sunglasses sat on top of your dresser, some of the earrings in your jewelry box were his... For gods sake, you shared the same shampoo and soap.
Digging your hands through your hair, splaying yourself backwards on your bed, you reached for your laptop and pulled it over your stomach. Opening it, you punched Apartments.com in to the search bar and let available places in your area, nearby work, pop up.
Scrolling for about a minute, eyeing the monthly rent in comparison to location and appearance, you squeezed your eyes shut and groaned.
Now was not the time.
Tossing your laptop to your mattress, not bothering to log out or shut it, you snatched your towel and disappeared into the bathroom, allowing the hot water to wash away work stress, ovulating thoughts, and feelings.
Wrapping yourself in your towel, tucking it in so it stayed put, you smoothed lotion over your exposed skin, up your neck, down your chest, around your arms. Making note of where your necklace and earrings were on the counter that you'd have to come back for, you picked up your clothes, flipped off the light, and peeked out into the hallway for any sign of Mark.
Years you've lived here, and yet the act of running from the shower to your bedroom performed like some sort of humiliation ritual.
Not for Mark, of course. He'd wander around in his towel for hours.
The apartment was quiet. No games, no whines, no Mark.
Maybe he left.
Stepping out of the bathroom, leaving the door cracked, you took two giant strides toward your door and spun inside swiftly, turning the knob as you closed your door, just in case he was still here somewhere.
"What are you looking at these for?"
Jumping a mile, grabbing onto the top of your towel, you whirled around with a gasp.
He was sitting on your bed with your laptop on his legs that were folded under him.
"Mark!"
He glanced up at you, his brows furrowed and focused, paying no mind to how your cheeks flushed and your body still dripped. "When were you planning on moving?"
"I wasn't, I-I was just-"
Looking down at the screen, he squinted at something. "Looking for apartments in this building."
Stepping toward your bed, you held up a finger. "Everywhere, not just this building."
He scoffed, his lips perking into the tiniest of smirks. "So, you admit it. You're moving out." The way he looked at you...
Both hands held onto your towel, pressing to your chest for your own sanity and composure.
You were naked.
He was on your bed, half naked.
"I wasn't planning on it," you sighed, eyes wide, hoping to tide him over with your words so that he'd leave and you could continue your search, or, at least put some clothes on. "You saw me when I came in here, I was stressed, so it was the first thing I thought of to do to help my nerves, I guess, I-"
Setting the laptop aside, he rose to his feet, head cocking to the right. All of his accessories were gone, it was just him, his sweats, and that silver chain around his neck.
"How is a new apartment gonna help relieve your stress at work?" he asked, taking small steps toward you. His frame stood bigger than your own. More clothed than you, taller than you, you sunk backward, your body pressing against your door. "I did see you, you were..." His eyes flickered to your lips. "Upset."
Five inches separated you.
"Mark," you whispered, and he looked at you. "It's just a bad day."
"Is it?" he asked, closing two more inches, eyeing your parted lips as your breath hitched.
Gulping, you nodded, holding onto the cotton that covered you even tighter. "Bad day."
Narrowing his eyes, you could feel his warm breath trickling over your skin still damp from the shower. "So, you thought a new apartment would cure that bad day?" He didn't let you answer, cutting you off before you started. "Why don't you just tell me what you really need, sweetheart," he whispered, closing the gap between you, pressing himself against you, "And we can stop playing fucking games.”
His hands pressed against the wood of the door, his arms caging you in. Chest to chest, his nose nudged yours and he smirked as your eyes fluttered shut.
Intoxicating.
Every siren in your head shot off.
His warmth, his presence, his smell, his words, his lips.
"Look at me," he murmured, and you obeyed, meeting his proud smile. "Good girl," he cooed, nudging your nose with his. Your knees trembled. He let a soft laugh loose. "Yeah, you like that. I knew it."
"Knew it?" you breathed, your heart pounding between your lungs.
Mark licked his lips and popped his brows. "I hear you too, sweetheart." His lips ghosted yours, smiling as your face screwed up in disbelief. "Oh, yeah," he sang, "You're filthy. How many toys you got in that drawer over there? Wanna play?"
Writhing, pressing your legs together, your core slick already, you whined and shook your head. "Mark."
Parting his lips, softening his face, he pouted. "Oh, babe, you're not in trouble." Taking a hand to your chin, he danced his thumb over your cheek, swooning as you melted into his touch. "I'm teasing," he whispered, taking in how you stared up at him, unable to look at anything else since he said look at me.
Swallowing thickly, you took shallow breaths, your mind tuning to the sound of his voice. Mark pinched your cheek gently, his brows steadying over his deep brown eyes. The way you stared at him, like he hung the stars and held the answer to all of your problems...
"I know what you need," he said just above a whisper, his fingers drawing over your skin gently, dancing down your neck. "As soon as you walked in the door, I could tell." His finger hooked below your chin, lifting it more, your doe eyes deepening. "Fuck," he whispered. "I'll leave you alone, okay, you can get into that drawer-"
He stepped away from you, and you reached for him, hands grabbing onto his bare biceps.
"Mark-"
Your towel slipped.
He didn't look.
His entire being softened.
Waiting.
His eyes never left yours.
Sucking in a shaky breath, he pushed out, "Yeah?"
Clenching your jaw, you gave him the tiniest nod of your head, and he groaned.
"Tell me," he whispered. The feeling of your fingers digging into his skin made his lashes flutter. "Say the words," he shook his head, "Or, you get nothing."
Steadying your breath, breaking through the part of you that longed for him to just give in and swallow you whole, you said, “I need you.”
It was all he needed.
Pushing you up against the door, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck and the other slipping down your body, Mark opened his mouth and pressed his lip to your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin as your arms hooked around his neck. Rocking with him, letting his weight push you to where he wanted you to be, you followed, body lax, under his control.
His fingers slipped between your legs, dragging through your folds, pressing to your clit. Moaning against your neck, grinding himself into you at the sound of your own whimper, he lifted his head and touched his forehead to yours.
“So fucking wet,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss your lips, heavy yet slowly, his tongue poking through to meet with yours, “You’ve been pent up all day, haven’t you?”
“Three days,” you gasped, clinging to him, the massage of his fingers making you tremble.
His tongue dragged over your lips. “Three days?” Pressing wet kisses to your cheek, he muttered, “You’ve been this horny for three days?” Pulling away from you briefly, watching you writhe with every twist of his fingers, every brush of his thumb over your clit, he started to smile. The hand around your neck tightened, pressing into the sides.
“Mark,” you moaned, and the sound he made lit a spark in your belly.
Screwing your eyes shut, you thrashed against the door, knees going weak as he slid two into you, his thumb in a steady rhythm over your bud. Grinding into his hand, throwing your hips in a circle, his smile fell into a smirk.
“You want it bad,” he muttered, dipping down to nip at your neck. “What can I do to you, baby?”
Feeling your belly tighten every time you became aware that this was Mark doing this to you, touching you, making your toes curl, you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold back. Shame was lost on you.
Clawing at his back, gasping for air, a moaning mess, you babbled, “Anything, anything, y-you can do anything, I don’t… Fuck… Mark.”
“Good fucking girl,” he cooed, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth before his lips were latched to you once more. Pumping his fingers into you, curling them towards him, you shook. Bending at the knees, he pressed hot kisses down your chest, grabbing a handful on the way down, his fingers teasing your nipples. Searing his lips down your middle, over your belly button and below, he pulled his fingers from you on his knees and looked up at you. “You’re beautiful.”
Heaving breaths, your cheeks warmed. Covering your face with your hands, you managed to finally crack some sort of giggle. “Stop,” you whispered.
“Come here,” he breathed, gripping your hips, tugging your lower half toward him. Guiding one leg over his shoulder, he smoothed that hand up the back of your thigh, giving your ass a squeeze with a moan. Dragging his thumb through your slick, he curved his lips into the perfect ‘o’ and gazed up at you as he blew cool air over your core.
Sucking air in through your teeth, jolting away from him, one hand flew down to lace through his hair, giving him the harshest tug. Proud of himself, he beamed up at you and let his tongue roll through his parted lips.
“Where do you want me?” he asked, voice an octave lower than usual. He didn’t fight against your hold, but you could feel him start to try to. Letting him go, his smile wiped away. “No, hang on to me.”
“I didn’t wanna-”
He gripped your hip, his other hand sliding up your middle to grab a handful of tit. “Hang on to me,” he said through his teeth, nudging himself into your core, his nose pushing on your clit, his tongue sliding into your hole.
Both of your hands knit into his hair, holding onto him for balance as he held you up on one foot.
Lapping at you, his tongue swirling and twisting, the pressure in your belly growing tenfold, you cried out for him and allowed yourself to fall against him, all your composure gone. Mark pressed his fingers into your curves, pinched and toyed with your nipple while he moaned into your pussy soaking his face. Bobbing his head, tongue going flat, he moved with you, your hips circling on his face, riding wherever the pleasure wanted you to go.
Vision blurry, body on fire, you tugged at his hair but it wasn’t enough. You tried to reach down for him, but he wouldn’t move. You wanted to see him, to hold him, hold onto him, kiss him–
“Mark,” you whimpered, trying to pull him off of you. “Mark, please.”
Parting from you once, sucking in a breath, chest heaving, he gazed up at you with lust stricken eyes, his lips and cheeks a mess. “Wanna make you cum,” he groaned, soothing you with a circle of his hand on your thigh, “Doing so good, baby, please?”
“No,” you cried out, pulling him to his feet.
He let you.
Gently placing you back on the ground, holding you up, he pressed himself to you and cupped your jaw. You gave him a kiss, one small, one soft, one tasting like you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, giggling as he pulled a hand up to wipe his face clean, he kissed you again, longer this time, your breaths in sync, like the beating of your hearts.
“I’m right here,” he whispered. “You okay?”
Nodding, gazing at him, you licked your lips and gave him the quietest whine.
His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, his eyes flickering to it, and with the gentlest whisper, he asked, “Your bed or mine?”
“Stay here,” you breathed, and he smiled.
Taking his hands to your waist, he pulled you up, wrapping you around his front. Stolen kisses on the way there, a few strides backward toward your bed, he tipped over as you giggled and laid you down on your mattress. Tongue escaping, nasty kisses pushed to your neck, Mark pushed his sweats to the floor and climbed over you, his knees pushing yours open.
Taking both hands to your jaw, he tipped your head backward and coerced your lips open with his thumbs, holding them there. His cheeks sucked in, as his length prodded at your entrance, he pursed his lips and let a ball of spit drip onto your tongue. Moans trapped in the back of your throat, you arched against him.
Mark, eyes dark as ever, bobbed his head and stuck his thumb in your mouth, spreading his spit on your tongue. “I knew it,” he teased, “Again.” As if you were going to be able to question him, he looked you in the eyes and whispered, “Nasty.”
Eyes rolling, you wiggled your hips, the feeling of his tip not enough. Wrapping your lips around his thumb, giving him a harsh suck, you swore the devil flashed in his eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he grumbled, “Don’t get me started. I want you gagging every which way, I’ve pictured it, gotten off to it.” You moaned and he laughed. “But, I wanna fuck your pussy more than I wanna fuck your throat,” he dipped down to press a kiss to your forehead, pushing stray hairs out of the way, whispering, “That okay?”
“Please,” you mumbled around his thumb, digging your teeth into it. “Mark, please.”
He lingered by your ear, lips brushing your lobe. “Please, what?”
“Fuck me,” you cried, writhing under him. He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and gripped your chin. Meeting his gaze, you whimpered. “Please, Mark, fuck me. I need you so bad.”
“Thought you were gonna let me bend you over the kitchen table,” he said, reaching a hand between your bodies to grip himself, “Pictured that before, too.”
“Fuck,” you gasped as he slid his tip into you.
He winced at how you squeezed him already, his brows tipped in the middle, his lips curling under. “Let me in, baby, can’t give you what you want if you don’t breathe.”
Your heart beat in your ears. You could barely get any air in as his length pushed inside of you, the pressure too great. The stretch, too much, the thought, the knowing that it was Mark, this was Mark, your roommate, inside of you, his cock, the pleasure–
A long sigh, laced with a whine, washed over him from your lips. Pushing into the hilt, your thighs touching, his hips on your hips, your clit pushing into his pelvis, he laid on top of you, your chests meshed. Parted lips met yours, the brush of a tongue on yours, the stinging of tears in your eyes as he rocked into you– you could feel him in your throat.
His thumbs pushed into your cheeks, his soft touch keeping you with him, brushing over your bottom lashes as your lips parted and you sighed, gazing up at him.
A mess, both of you. His hair, pushed around in ways he’d never let you see, his eyes, glazed over with euphoria, his lips, parted and hungry. Teeth baring as he rocked into you, your breath hitching in your chest, you drug your hands down his back, your nails leaving behind plush red love marks as they came back up to his shoulders.
“God, I just wanna stay like this,” he mumbled, burying his head in your neck, moaning into your shoulder. “Feel so good, sweetheart,” he sighed, wrapping his lips in a kiss below your jaw.
One of your hands escaped to his hair, knitting into his locks, holding onto him for clarity. “You’re so… big…” you managed to gasp between snaps of his hips.
Smirking down at you, he pushed himself up to his hands, the silver chain on his neck dangling over your nose. “Yeah?”
Managing a smile with your twisted brows, you breathed through a laugh, “Knew it.”
“Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered, suffocating you with a kiss, his hands eager to hold you in anyway they possibly could. “You know what it takes to hold myself back?”
Your tongue wanted to pop out of your lips. Biting down on your lip, moaning without giving yourself permission, you blinked up at him, dazed, ignited with nirvana.
Relief.
Mark pushed up off of you, guiding your legs around his waist as he held onto yours. Picking your hips up off the mattress, he pistoled into you and tipped his head back, his groans echoing off the walls, lingering in the air.
“You know what it feels like… to have you walk around here… like you don’t know how hot you are?” He took a thumb to your clit, pressing down, grinning as you cried out and writhed, your hands gripping onto your sheets. “What it feels like… to hear you moan into your pillows… knowing that I could walk in here… and fuck you dumb?”
“Yes,” you gasped, voice broken, “Mark, yes, you drive me fucking crazy.”
He snickered. “Do I?”
Every twist of his thumb made you tremble, your high barreling toward you as you watched his body move. The arch in his back, the push of his hips, where your bodies met, the sound your bodies made…
“I wanted you as soon as I got home,” you babbled, fucking yourself back onto him as he thrust into you, “Wanted you to fuck me, wanted you to make me cum… Mark.”
His body let loose for a second, his composure dropping, his head lulling back, but then he grabbed your waist and pushed you both up to your pillows. Stretching his legs behind him, putting his hands behind your knees, he folded you in half and lowered himself on top of you.
Hair stuck to his forehead, your breaths tangled in shared air, his chain kissed your chin, your nose, your neck.
“Mark,” you whispered, your belly tightening, your legs shaking around him. Pulling him closer, landing messy kisses to his cheek, to his jaw, you gasped, right on the edge. “M’fu- Mark!”
“Come on,” he whispered, lazy lips brushing your cheek, “C’mon, babe. I got you.” You squeezed him, your body twitching under him, a tumultuous build up, a crash you needed three days ago. Fueled by his hands, his hips, his tongue, you cried out for him, barely recognizing yourself. “Cum for me, sweetheart, c’mon, you can do it.”
Almost missing your lips with a kiss, he moaned into your mouth as his own belly tensed.
“Need you to cum first,” he groaned, letting his fingers toy with your clit, his speed relentless, but he knew as soon as you went silent, he had you. “Be a good girl,” he whined, nose pressing to your cheek, “C’mon… Cum on my cock, baby, isn’t that what you want? Cum and I’ll fill you up, you want that?”
Nodding, fast, barely breathing, only able to suck air in, unable to push any out, you clung to him as your vision seared white, and you convulsed into him, body ignited with a pleasure brand new. You squeezed him tight, giving him little time to warn you he was cumming, filling you up with half a thrust as he dropped to his elbows and whimpered.
You’re not sure how long you laid in silence, spent bodies pressed together on a mussed up bedspread that now needed a washing. Then, he stirred.
Picking up his head of messed up hair, he looked down at you, eyes heavy, lips swollen. Surprised to see you already looking, he smiled, a flash of his teeth poking between his lips. Pulling out of you, taking his time, watching you closely as he did, he kissed you gently.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, shifting over your body to lay beside you, wrapping an arm around your back to tuck you into his side.
Unable to not look at him, you brushed your lips over his chest and whispered, “You’re incredible.”
Resting an arm behind his head, he looked down at you with a lazy smile. “You feel better?”
“Yes,” you answered quickly, making him laugh. “But, I think…”
He flipped his brows over, reaching his hand out to fix the mess that was your hair. “You think what, sweetheart?”
Curling up against him, you cowered and hid your face in his arm.
“Tell me,” he said softly, smoothing his hand under your chin, lifting your head. Pursing your lips, as if he could tell by the flutter of your lashes, he poked his cheek with his tongue. “Be a good girl and use your words,” he whispered, and you almost whimpered.
Your heart swelled in your chest, your cheeks heating as you whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”
Mark glanced around your room before looking at you crazy. “Am I… going somewhere?” Smiling as you giggled, he screwed his face up and tried to wiggle away from you. “Oh, wait, actually, that's you. How’s the apartment hunt going?”
“No!” Grabbing onto him, pulling him back into you, he rolled over on his side, hovering over you. Blinking up at him, you took a deep breath and shook your head. “I’m not leaving. You overwhelmed me, I thought I had no other option.”
Mark raised his brows. “Instead of just asking me to fuck, you were going to move out? To a whole new apartment? When this one is just fine?” Your smile faded, and your resolve clouded over. Mark tilted his head, curious. “Talk to me.”
Rolling your eyes, dragging your nails against his back, softer this time, you mumbled, “I… like you… Mark.” He didn’t move. “I was thinking about moving, ‘cause… I have feelings for you. And, after this… I want you. I wanted you before. I want to be yours.”
It took his six whole seconds to break into a toothy grin. “Great,” he huffed, catching your lips in a slow kiss, whispering against them, “Which room do you want to be ours?”
Eyes widening, he shocked you with another kiss.
Nudging your nose with his, he winked. “I wanna be yours.”
summary: while everyone around you is getting married, you're left behind—no ring, no lover, just silence waiting at home. but one night, your boss, mr. jeong, makes an unexpected proposal: "marry me." and suddenly, your quiet world begins to burn.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), strong language, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy mention (later), minor angst, lots of kissing, crying, soft husband jaehyun, tooth-rotting fluff, crying-in-the-club type of love.
wc: 19,7K
notes: i’m obsessed with jaehyun as a boss, boyfriend, hubby, and daddy lmao. man’s got range 😮💨💍🖤
i swear i try to keep it short but my brain goes rogue every time 😭 like girl be fr, when’s the day i finally drop a short fic??? bye lmao 💀
you’re twenty-nine, and the number feels heavier than you thought it would. not because it’s old—not really—but because thirty is close. and thirty means expectations. by now, you were supposed to have it all figured out. at least, that’s what they say. your friends certainly make it seem that way with their photo-perfect marriages, toddlers learning to walk, houses in peaceful neighborhoods. meanwhile, you still live in a quiet apartment with plants you often forget to water and a fridge that holds more takeout containers than groceries.
you work at an architecture firm—clean lines, big ideas, and even bigger egos. the kind of place where late nights are common and recognition is rare. you’ve built a name for yourself, though. you lead your team well, your ideas consistently get approved, and your work ethic has never been in question. the other women whisper that you’re just trying to impress the boss, that your dedication is nothing but a strategic flirtation. they don't know that your passion isn’t about pleasing anyone but yourself. well, mostly. maybe part of you does want to be seen. to be acknowledged by him.
jeong jaehyun.
your department lead. two years younger than you, but somehow always carrying himself like he’s lived three lives already. he doesn’t talk much. doesn’t engage in the small talk that fills the office kitchen or the empty flattery some of your coworkers throw his way. he’s serious, focused, almost too calm. the kind of man who’s unreadable, and yet somehow always watching. you’re not close, not really, but there’s a quiet understanding between you. he trusts you. you can feel it in the way he gives you space to lead, the way he nods subtly in meetings when you speak, the way his eyes linger sometimes—not in a way that feels invasive, but like he’s... thinking.
you’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. never seen him talk about his personal life. no ring, no photos on his desk, not even vague mentions of a girlfriend or family. and while no one dares to say anything to his face, everyone wonders. he's a man, though—no one criticizes him for being single. no one asks him what he's waiting for.
you, on the other hand, can barely go a week without someone making a comment. still not married? you’re so pretty, what a shame. your mother means well, but every call ends with a variation of you’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.you smile through it. you tell them you're happy. you tell yourself that, too. but deep down, there's a quiet ache. because you’ve always wanted a family. always dreamed of being a mother, of coming home to someone who knows you—not just your schedule or your favorite takeout order, but the way you think, the way you feel things deeply and try to hide it. but love hasn’t knocked in years. not since your last relationship ended at twenty-two, before the world hardened your heart. since then, you’ve been too busy, too careful, too tired.
tonight, you're staying late again. the office is nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights and the buzz of a vending machine down the hall. you're finessing the last pieces of a major project, making sure every detail is just right. you're in the zone when you hear soft footsteps approaching, and then his voice—low, familiar, closer than expected.
“you’re still here, byun?”
you glance up to find jaehyun standing by your desk, hands in his pockets, that usual unreadable expression on his face. there’s no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.
you offer a tired smile, leaning back in your chair. “oh, mr. jeong, i just wanted to polish a few things before the presentation. i figured if i leave anything messy, the senior managers will rip it apart. and then you’ll take the heat for it.”
he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost looks like a smile. “you care that much about how i look to the execs?”
you shrug, turning back to your screen. “you’re my boss. if you look bad, i look bad.”
he lets out a soft exhale, a sound that's dangerously close to a chuckle. then he leans against your desk, his body relaxed but his eyes still sharp as ever. “you’re too committed.”
“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
he shakes his head. “not bad. just... rare.”
a brief silence settles between you, not awkward, but weighted. it feels like he’s about to say something else, and when he does, it’s not what you expect.
“doesn’t your family mind that you stay this late?” his gaze holds yours. “your husband? kids?”
you blink, the question catching you off guard. your smile falters just slightly, and you look down at your hands before answering.
“no husband. no kids. no one waiting at home.” you try to sound casual, even throw in a little laugh. “i guess i’m just married to the job.”
he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t look away. “i didn’t know.”
you nod, suddenly very aware of the silence around you. “most people assume. but... yeah. i live alone.”
another pause. then, gently, you ask, “what about you, mr. jeong? i mean, you’re always here late too. no one waiting on you?”
he looks away for the first time, his jaw tightening slightly before he answers. “no one yet.”
and there it is again—that silence between you. but this time, it’s different. it hums with something unspoken. curiosity. surprise. maybe even recognition.
you return your gaze to the screen, not really seeing it. he’s still standing there, close enough to feel but not close enough to touch. something in the air shifts, and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels... not heavy, but full.
the next morning, you arrived a few minutes early—just like always. being punctual wasn’t about impressing anyone; it was about control, about proving—at least to yourself—that you had your life together. it made you feel reliable. consistent. in a workplace full of half-assed excuses and people who couldn’t meet a deadline to save their lives, your discipline was something you wore like armor. something no one could take from you.
your outfit was soft, delicate even—rose-pink skirt brushing just above your knees, a crisp white button-up tucked in neatly, the blazer matching your skirt in a subtle pastel tone. your heels clicked softly against the tile floor as you made your way to your desk, and as you passed the reflection on one of the glass panels, you couldn’t help but think: i look good today.
you did. your hair was in place, makeup light but elegant, lips tinted a faint nude-pink. polished. pretty. professional. but beneath all that... you also looked a little alone. not that anyone would say it to your face—but you could see it sometimes, in the glances people gave you. admiration, maybe. pity, sometimes. curiosity always.
you sat down, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your chair, reaching for the little yellow post-it you’d stuck to the side of your monitor the day before. your handwriting was neat, methodical. a short list of pending tasks, each one already being mentally checked off as you booted up your computer. you didn’t waste time—your fingers flew across the keyboard, and within minutes the familiar sounds of productivity filled your small corner of the office: the rhythmic clack of keys, the soft hum and spit of the printer warming up to spit out proposals and reports.
you didn’t hear him come in.
you were too deep in the flow, too focused on aligning the final report with the visual standards the company demanded. your eyes scanned the document line by line, searching for typos, ensuring everything was clean, sharp, presentable. the sound of footsteps behind you didn’t register until you felt it—that subtle, electric awareness that comes when someone is watching.
“good morning, byun. please leave the project report on my desk once it’s ready.”
he didn’t look at you. just passed by, smooth and quick, his voice calm and firm, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the familiar scent of roast beans and expensive cologne trailing behind him like a silent presence. his stride didn’t falter, his gaze fixed ahead, like he’d already moved on to the next ten things in his mind. you barely had time to nod, mouth parted to respond, but he was already disappearing behind his office door.
you blinked.
right. the report.
you gathered the last printed pages, slid them into the presentation folder, double-checked the order, smoothed the cover with your palm before rising from your seat. your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the short corridor, your fingers lightly tapping the edge of the folder, nerves tightening with each step even if there was nothing to be nervous about. it was just work. just jaehyun. just another report.
you knocked once and entered when he answered. he was seated behind his desk, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the dark veins of his forearms visible as he typed something on his laptop. he glanced up, briefly, then reached for the report when you held it out.
“thank you,” he said, flipping it open with precision, already scanning the contents. “at two p.m. we have the meeting with upper management. you’ll be joining me at the table. along with choi and hwang.”
you nodded. “understood.”
“good. go over the numbers one more time before then. they’re likely to ask.”
“yes, mr. jeong.”
and that was it. no warm smile. no thank you. just professional, cold efficiency. you turned and left, closing the door gently behind you before returning to your desk, the weight of the upcoming meeting settling on your shoulders like a familiar cloak. you’d been through this before. plenty of times. but it never got easier. not when the room was full of men in suits who barely hid their condescension, who chewed through ideas like tasteless gum until someone—usually jaehyun—said something smart enough to catch their interest.
you spent the next few hours fine-tuning the financial section, making sure your data was clean, graphs properly labeled, estimates realistic but still ambitious. it was a delicate game—making things sound innovative without actually suggesting anything too risky. they didn’t want bold. they wanted impressive illusions of boldness packaged in safe wrapping.
the meeting room was as bland as ever. too much glass, too much beige. you sat at the long table beside jaehyun, your laptop open, presentation ready. the managers arrived first, already complaining about another team’s failed prototype. the director entered last, stone-faced as always, his tie perfect, his opinion impossible to read.
as expected, the meeting dragged. they picked apart the proposal, paragraph by paragraph, expressionless until one of them grimaced like the very concept of originality offended them. you watched them, these men who nodded at each other but rarely smiled, who offered feedback that wasn’t feedback, just empty phrases like “it needs more punch” or “is this trend even scalable?”
then jaehyun spoke.
his voice was calm, slow, measured. and yet he made every single line sound convincing. powerful. like there was no other way forward but the one he was laying out. the room shifted around him. the tension eased. eyes narrowed—not in skepticism now, but interest. he wasn’t just presenting; he was selling a vision, and you felt yourself straightening with pride even if the credit wasn’t yours.
until he said your name.
“y/n,” he said, still facing the director. “if you could present the budget projections.”
you froze for a half second. not out of fear—just... surprise. you hadn’t expected him to call on you so soon.
you stood, smoothed your skirt unconsciously, and took a breath before switching slides. your voice was steady, even if your palms were clammy.
“these are the projections for the next two quarters,” you began, pointing at the chart. “we’ve estimated a moderate increase in cost during the development phase, with a break-even point projected for the beginning of q3. depending on the approved budget, we’re looking at a return on investment of approximately—”
you kept going, explaining the graphs, walking them through the numbers with careful clarity. no embellishments, no guesswork. facts. you swallowed once, clearing your throat before the final slide, then ended with a nod.
when you sat back down, jaehyun glanced at you. just a moment. a flicker of something almost soft in his expression.
like you’d done well.
like you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.
the rest of the meeting blurred. the managers began tossing in extra suggestions—small changes, tweaks they hoped would impress the director. the man nodded, offered vague praise, and you remained at your seat, listening to it all with a practiced, patient expression.
when the meeting finally ended, you stood beside jaehyun again. he didn’t say much—he never did—but as he packed his laptop, he looked at you.
“good work today,” he said. “you’re an essential part of the team. if you keep this up, i’ll make sure your name’s considered for the upcoming promotions.”
you stared at him, momentarily stunned. the words hit harder than you expected. you’d worked for five years, given everything to this company, and this—this was the first time someone above you had said something that felt... real.
“thank you,” you said softly, trying not to let your smile get too big. “really.”
he nodded. “you earned it.”
later, when the director extended the dinner invitation, you didn’t hesitate. it wasn’t optional. the team needed to show up, needed to mingle, to pretend everything was a celebration and not an endless cycle of office politics masked with clinking glasses.
the bar was upscale but casual enough to loosen people’s ties. smoke from grilled meats hung faintly in the air, the tang of sweet sauces and roasted garlic filling the space. you sat between your supervisor and jaehyun, trying not to feel too stiff in your work clothes. everyone was drinking, toasting, laughing louder than they had all day.
the supervisor leaned forward, voice slightly slurred. “you know,” he said to the director, “the whole prototype? the mockup? the execution timeline? all her. y/n practically carried the whole thing.”
the director turned to you, surprised. “really? how long have you been here?”
“five years,” you replied, sipping from your glass.
he raised a brow. “how is it possible i haven’t noticed you until now?”
jaehyun, still beside you, said nothing—but you felt the subtle tension in his posture.
“you’ve got a good employee,” the director told him. “it’s your job to shape her. teach her. sounds like she’s already on the right path. with the right guidance... she’ll move up in no time.”
he raised his glass. “to y/n.”
“to y/n,” echoed around the table.
you lifted your glass, cheeks warm—not just from the alcohol but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen. you smiled, surrounded by coworkers and approval and good food, and for a moment, just one moment, everything felt like it was finally going somewhere.
you were finally going somewhere.
the dinner had blurred into noise.
conversations overlapping, laughter rising and falling like tides. glasses clinked, meat sizzled on the grill, the warm lighting softening everyone's expressions into something hazy and unguarded. you sat at the long table, just a bit to the side, the smoky scent of barbecued meat in your hair and the echo of compliments still lingering in your chest. across from you, your supervisor had long since slipped into a drunken retelling of his glory days. to your left, jaehyun sat quietly, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. his arms were strong, veins defined even in the low light, and on his left wrist, a sleek, expensive watch glinted every time he reached for his glass. he hadn’t touched his soju in a while, though. he just held the rim between his fingers and occasionally let his gaze wander across the room.
when your eyes met, it was casual, almost accidental. but you didn’t look away.
“you’re not drinking,” you said, quietly enough that only he could hear.
he offered the ghost of a smirk, the kind that barely pulled at one corner of his mouth. “someone has to remember what was actually said tonight.”
you laughed, a soft breathy sound, grateful for his clarity amidst the chaos.
a silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. rather, it felt like a small space carved out just for the two of you—unbothered, untouched, a bubble where you didn’t have to keep smiling or pretending. you let out a quiet sigh, swirling your untouched drink in your hand.
“do you ever feel like you're running out of time?” you asked, voice low, not even sure why you were asking him of all people.
jaehyun looked at you, brows drawn slightly, intrigued but still calm. “time for what?”
you hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass. the alcohol was warm in your chest, but not enough to numb this confession.
“for everything,” you admitted. “i mean, professionally… things are going great. i can’t complain. i’ve worked hard, and it’s starting to pay off. but…” you looked down, lips pressing together. “sometimes i feel like i’m trapped inside a giant hourglass, watching the sand fall, grain by grain. i’ll be thirty in a few months. and i know that shouldn't mean anything, but in a world where people expect you to have everything figured out by now—marriage, kids, some picture-perfect life—i feel like i’m falling behind. like my dreams are moving farther and farther away.”
you took a breath, not daring to look at him.
“it’s just… sad,” you continued. “when you achieve something big and there’s no one waiting at home to celebrate it with you. no partner, no family. no one to say, ‘i’m proud of you.’”
jaehyun was quiet for a moment. then his voice came, soft and even.
“i can celebrate with you.”
you looked up, surprised, blinking at him. “thank you, but… that’s not what i meant. it’s not the same.”
he held your gaze. then, calmly, like he was offering a solution to a logistics problem, he said it.
“then marry me.”
your brain stalled.
you didn’t understand at first. maybe you misheard him. maybe he was joking, or drunk—except his voice hadn’t changed. his tone hadn’t wavered. your stomach dropped.
“…what?” you whispered.
“you want a family. you want someone to come home to. marry me.”
the words hung between you like smoke. absurd. unreal. your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. you glanced around—everyone else was too busy laughing or slurring their next toast to notice what had just happened.
you leaned in slightly, voice tense and hushed. “mr.—jeong—what are you talking about? we don’t even know each other like that.”
“we know enough,” he said without blinking.
“we’ve never even had a real conversation outside of work until now.”
“so let’s have more,” he replied, as steady as always.
you felt like your heart was beating too loudly. “are you… are you seriously suggesting we get married?”
“i’m not suggesting it. i’m telling you i’d do it. if you said yes.”
you stared at him, at the cool detachment on his face, the quiet certainty in his voice, and felt your world tip on its axis.
he shrugged. “how long until you turn thirty?”
“…my birthday’s in november,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could even process them. “it’s april now. that’s seven months.”
jaehyun nodded slowly. “then you have seven months to decide.”
he finished his beer in one slow, final gulp. then he stood up, reaching into his wallet and placing a few bills under his empty glass. you were still frozen when he stepped beside you.
“i’ll take you home,” he said.
you tried to protest, voice stumbling over half-formed refusals. “you don’t have to—i can call a cab, really—”
he looked down at you, expression unreadable.
“that wasn’t a request. it’s your boss giving you a ride.”
and with that, he turned, waiting for you to follow. your legs felt heavy as you stood, your mind racing, still reeling from what had just happened. marry him? seven months? he was serious. he was actually serious.
you had no answers. only questions. and one man who had just offered you everything you’d spent your life pretending you didn’t need.
you didn’t sleep.
not really. you tossed and turned, arms flung across the bed one minute and buried under the covers the next. jaehyun’s words echoed in your skull like an intrusive melody, looping over and over again.
then marry me.
you have seven months to decide.
like some sort of countdown had been triggered.
you must have stared at your ceiling for hours, trying to make sense of what he meant—what it meant for you—and whether he’d been serious. but the worst part wasn’t the proposal. the worst part was how calm he’d been, how effortlessly he’d said it, and how easily he’d walked away afterward like it hadn’t upended your entire sense of self.
your alarm went off at seven, and you hit snooze five times. by the time you dragged yourself out of bed, you felt like your bones had aged a decade overnight. you put on your makeup with the heaviness of someone trying to erase exhaustion from the inside out—concealer, color corrector, foundation. you went over your under-eyes twice, then a third time. you looked like yourself, but blurry. off.
you arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which was already enough to earn a few raised brows. no one said anything, but they noticed. you noticed them noticing.
you sat at your desk and stared at your drawers, forgetting which one you kept the monthly reports in. your fingers shook slightly as you shuffled through folders, trying to find the stupid paperwork you'd seen a million times. a stack of them slipped from your grasp and scattered onto the floor like a metaphor. you groaned and crouched down to collect them, muttering under your breath. your brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses.
then—
“good morning.”
his voice. that casual, bored tone he always used in the office. neutral, even, no trace of anything buried beneath it. no sign that he’d ever said something as life-altering as what he’d said last night.
you startled so hard you hit your head on the underside of your desk.
“good—ouch!” you winced, clutching your scalp with one hand and your pride with the other. “good morning, mr. jeong.”
he kept walking. didn’t glance down at you. didn’t smirk. didn’t check if you were okay. he passed your desk like any other morning, like he hadn’t proposed to you over beer and smoke and shared loneliness.
a few coworkers peeked over their partitions, concerned. you gave a shaky thumbs-up and a whispered, “i’m fine,” even though you felt anything but fine.
you weren’t like this. not at work. not ever. your name was synonymous with precision. discipline. control. and here you were, dropping papers and bumping into furniture like your brain had short-circuited.
you finally gathered the reports and brought them to his office.
he was seated at his desk, focused on his screen, the sleeves of his dress shirt still rolled to his elbows. your eyes caught briefly on the line of his forearm, the watch still there, still ticking.
“these are the reports from last month,” you said, setting the folder down.
“thanks,” he replied without looking at you.
you lingered.
“mr. jeong.”
he finally looked up.
his eyes were calm. cool. like nothing was wrong. like he hadn’t detonated a bomb and walked away from the wreckage.
you hesitated, your throat dry. “about what you said last night—”
his expression didn’t change.
“we’re at work,” he said simply. “i’m being professional.”
you blinked, almost offended. “so that’s it? you say something that insane and then just—go back to normal?”
“we’ll talk after work,” he said, returning to his screen. “if you want to.”
you stood there, gripping the folder even though it was already out of your hands, heart thudding with something sour and hot and unnamable. frustration? humiliation? confusion? all of it?
he was treating you like you were the one out of line. like you were being inappropriate for even bringing it up.
you turned around without saying anything else and walked out of his office, pulse hammering in your ears. the rest of the day dragged like wet cement. you couldn’t concentrate. you couldn’t remember what you were supposed to be doing half the time. you reread emails four times before hitting send. and every time someone walked past your desk, you wondered if it was him, if he’d say anything, if he’d look at you, if he even remembered what he said or if the memory of it belonged to you alone now.
you’d never felt so out of control.
you didn’t know what was worse—his silence or the fact that you wanted him to break it.
you tried to focus. god, you really did. you stared at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred into static. you answered emails with words you didn’t remember typing. every time the phone rang, your heart jumped, irrationally convinced it might be him—even though you were in the same building, separated by maybe thirty feet of glass, air, and unspoken tension. it felt like the longest day of your life. your temples throbbed with a slow, building ache, like your thoughts were pressing too hard against the inside of your skull.
you popped two painkillers around lunchtime, washed them down with lukewarm water from your reusable bottle, but they didn’t help. not really. because the pain wasn’t just physical—it was mental. emotional. a kind of pressure that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.
your mind wouldn’t shut up.
you kept looping the same questions, over and over again, like your brain was stuck on a carousel with no exit.
why would he say that? why now? why you?
he already told you he'd wait. seven months. seven impossibly long, slow-burning months.
so why talk? why meet? it wasn’t for him. it didn’t serve him. he’d been clear. he had time, he had patience. this conversation—it was for you. you were the one desperate to make sense of it. to understand his motives. to justify the insanity of it all.
but how were you supposed to justify something that made no sense?
he’s twenty-seven. handsome. polished. wealthy. he could have anyone—literally anyone. girls younger than you, brighter than you, women who weren’t crawling toward their thirties with a fading list of half-achieved dreams and a fridge full of takeout leftovers. why you?
a mid-level employee in a department no one paid much attention to. someone who had to fight tooth and nail just to be noticed in board meetings. someone who had accomplishments but no one to toast with. someone who fell asleep most nights with their phone face-down and on silent because no one was texting anyway.
why you?
you didn’t have an answer.
you finished your tasks—barely—and the moment the clock hit the end of your shift, you shut your computer down with shaky fingers and grabbed your bag. your steps felt heavy, reluctant, as you made your way through the hall toward the entrance. part of you wanted to bolt, to pretend nothing had ever been said, to go home and crawl into bed and put on a show you wouldn’t really watch. to sleep off the confusion like a bad hangover.
but the doors opened before you could entertain the thought. those clean, automatic glass doors slid apart with a hiss, and there he was.
leaning casually against one of the white pillars just outside, his suit jacket draped neatly over his forearm, his other hand gripping his sleek black briefcase like it weighed nothing. he looked like something out of a commercial—well-dressed, composed, the perfect image of success. but when his eyes met yours, something flickered beneath the surface. maybe restraint. maybe tension. maybe nothing.
he walked toward you calmly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the smooth tile.
“get in the car,” he said, voice even. “we’re going to talk. like you wanted.”
not a question. not a request.
he turned without waiting for your answer and made his way to a parked luxury sedan—shiny, deep black, windows tinted so dark you could barely see the interior. he opened the passenger door for you, as if the conversation that waited inside was just another part of his routine.
you hesitated, only for a second.
but then you followed.
because no matter how messy your thoughts were, no matter how terrified or confused or unworthy you felt, one truth cut through the noise:
you wanted to know.
you slid into the passenger seat, trying to calm the way your heart was sprinting inside your chest. the door closed beside you with a quiet thunk, sealing you into a space you weren’t sure you were ready for.
he walked around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel, smooth and unhurried.
you stared straight ahead.
ready—or not—to finally ask the questions that wouldn’t leave you alone.
the silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. not exactly. but it was dense—like fog inside your chest, heavy and silent and there to stay.
you stared out the window as the city drifted past, familiar buildings made foreign by the storm in your head. beside you, jaehyun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. there was music playing—low, jazzy, old—but he didn’t speak. not until you passed a traffic light and he tilted his head, casually.
“did you get enough sleep last night?” he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.
you didn’t look at him. “not really.”
“figured,” he said, turning smoothly into another avenue. “you looked like hell.”
you gave a humorless chuckle, resting your elbow against the door and propping your chin in your hand. “thanks for the compliment, sir.”
“anytime,” he said dryly.
and that was it. that was all the small talk he offered. nothing personal. nothing intimate. just an acknowledgment that he saw you. that he’d noticed.
the drive was short, and before you could make sense of anything, you were already parking in front of a modest little korean restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. it smelled like steam, garlic, and simmered bone broth. a place where people went for real food and no-frills comfort.
“this place has the best gomguk in the city,” jaehyun said, grabbing his briefcase from the back. “been coming here since i was a teenager.”
you hesitated at the door. “you like bone soup?”
“love it.”
you wrinkled your nose. “i can’t stand that stuff. never could. not even as a kid.”
he paused mid-step and gave you a look, slightly amused. “well,” he said, “there’s our first disagreement as a couple.”
you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what?”
“now i know you don’t like gomguk. guess i’ll have to avoid cooking it for you.”
you said nothing.
because he wasn’t joking. not really. not entirely. and that was the part that made your mouth dry.
how could he say things like that so easily? so naturally? as if you hadn’t spent the entire day unraveling at the seams while he strutted through the office like nothing had happened?
he sat across from you at the table, unbothered, scanning the menu like it wasn’t even necessary. he already knew what he wanted. meanwhile, you still didn’t know why you were there.
you picked something else. kimchi jjigae, maybe—safe, familiar, strong enough to mask the taste of your confusion.
once the server took your orders and disappeared behind the curtain, you leaned forward, folding your hands together to stop them from trembling.
“why me?”
his eyes lifted slowly from the empty table to your face. “there’s no reason,” he said. “i just want to give you what you want.”
“do you say that to all women?”
he smirked. “if i did, i’d probably be married to half the city by now.”
you shook your head. “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“don’t treat this like a mission,” you snapped, trying not to raise your voice. “i don’t need your pity. i shared something vulnerable with you, yeah. but that doesn’t mean you have to swoop in and rescue me from a miserable life of solitude by offering a ring. this isn’t some fairytale. i don’t need a man to save me.”
“i never said you did.”
you exhaled slowly. “i want to love and be loved. to build something. something real. not this... whatever this is. a contract. a deal. a deadline to escape loneliness.”
his expression didn’t shift. not a single flicker. but his voice softened.
“then let’s say this. if in seven months, you still haven’t found someone—someone who makes you feel like you can build something... try it with me.”
you stared at him. hard. trying to read every intention in the lines of his face.
“just like that?”
“just like that.”
you couldn’t look away.
and then he said it. the words that settled into the cracks of your resolve like warm rain after a drought.
“we can love. i can love you. you can love me, if you want to. if you want to date, we can date. you don’t have to feel pressured. i just think... you’re worth the risk. and i don’t think you should torture yourself every day that passes just because you haven’t ‘settled down.’ opportunities don’t always come twice. sometimes you have to grab them while they’re here. or regret it forever.”
your lips parted, but nothing came out.
you looked at him then—not as the cold, polished man who walked the halls like a ghost in tailored suits. not as your boss. not as someone who confused and overwhelmed you.
you saw him as a man.
a man who knew what he wanted. who wasn’t afraid to take action. who looked you in the eye and offered you something you weren’t even sure you deserved.
his jawline. his eyes. the little wrinkle between his brows when he got serious. the calm way he listened. the confidence. the clarity.
you saw him differently.
you weren’t ready to give him an answer. not yet.
but something inside you had shifted.
you just didn’t know what to call it.
he didn’t rush you.
he didn’t push.
he just sat there across from you in that tiny booth, his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, waiting with the kind of quiet confidence that only made your heart beat louder. he stirred his soup gently, letting it cool, occasionally taking a sip without ever looking away from you for too long.
and then he said it—casually, as if proposing something as simple as lunch next week.
“let’s do this. i’ll pick you up after work from now on. we’ll go out. have dinner. spend time together. see what happens. let it unfold naturally.”
just like that.
your breath caught. “i… i have doubts,” you admitted, almost in a whisper. “i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what to feel. this is all so sudden, so... fast.”
he nodded, unbothered. “that’s okay.”
you blinked. “that’s okay?”
“yes. it’s not a race. but you heard what i said—opportunities don’t always knock twice. you don’t have to say yes right now. just think about it.”
but you were thinking. too much.
his voice played on repeat in your mind: we can love. i can love you. you can love me. and god, wasn’t that the exact thing you’d been terrified of never having?
your fingers trembled under the table. your palms clammy, your mouth dry. you rubbed your hands together slowly, grounding yourself in that simple motion, trying to breathe.
he didn’t flinch. didn’t ask again. just kept sipping his soup, patient as stone, like he’d already accepted whatever answer you’d give him.
you stared at your food, at the steam rising, the way the aroma filled the space between you and him like something sacred. you still couldn’t stand bone soup. but somehow, being across from him made it smell less... offensive. less like something to run from.
and you remembered.
all those nights crying in silence.
all those mornings brushing your teeth with tears stuck in your throat because you didn’t know if ever would come.
ever finding someone.
ever being enough.
ever being loved without begging for it.
maybe he wasn’t what you imagined.
maybe he was better.
you looked up at him.
“okay,” you said, softly. then stronger. “okay. i’ll try. i’ll let you pick me up. we’ll go on these dates. maybe… maybe i can love you. maybe i can let myself be loved by you.”
he paused mid-sip, eyes lifting.
your voice cracked slightly when you added, “maybe i can stay with you.”
for a beat, the world went still.
he didn’t smile wide. didn’t gloat or tease.
he just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. his eyes warm, deep, but controlled—like someone who’d been expecting this moment and didn’t want to scare it off.
“good,” he said. “that’s all i needed.”
you swallowed hard.
and for the first time since that strange proposal, something in your chest loosened.
you weren’t sure if this was love.
but it was a beginning.
the next morning. everything is different.
you walk into the building like you own the damn place—heels sharp, suit immaculate, makeup clean and fierce, ponytail slicked high like a crown. the memory of yesterday—your stumble, your throbbing head, your wandering thoughts—now felt like a distant, irrelevant dream. that wasn’t you. this was.
a woman who knew what she wanted.
a woman who said yes.
you smiled to yourself in the elevator. not just any smile—that kind. the kind that curled at the corners, the kind that held secrets, the kind that felt like sin dressed in silk. the kind that belonged to someone with a man waiting outside a restaurant, ordering bone broth, and talking about love like it was something simple. doable. inevitable.
you were early. again. not by accident this time, but by choice.
you slid into your desk, organized, efficient, present. the hum of the office hadn’t started yet, and you took advantage of the calm, catching up on reports and scheduling the week like the good girl you were trained to be. but this time, it was different. you weren’t surviving the day. you were anticipating it.
and then—at exactly the hour—he walked in.
jung jaehyun.
same black suit. same silver watch. same air of cool detachment.
but today, when he passed by your desk and muttered his usual, “good morning,” you didn’t just nod like before.
you stood up—too fast.
too happy.
“good morning, mr. jeong!” you sang, voice lilting and almost musical, like you’d just won the lottery.
it was instinctual. not calculated. just... you.
the entire floor stopped.
heads turned.
some eyebrows shot up. a few eyes narrowed.
jaehyun himself halted in his tracks, looking back at you slowly, his brows drawn together in the tiniest frown. he cleared his throat.
“everyone, back to work,” he said, voice firm. and then, after one last look—eyes narrowed at you in something between confusion and amusement—he turned and walked away.
you bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, barely suppressing the giggle building in your throat.
the memory of last night echoed in your mind, maybe i can love you, maybe i can stay with you—and now here you were, trying not to beam like a teenager with a crush. you watched his back disappear into his office, and your lips curled up, despite yourself.
you could still feel his eyes on you. even if he wasn’t looking.
after work, you waited by the entrance as the glass doors slid open.
he was already there—like he promised. leaning casually against his car, black coat folded over one arm, briefcase in hand, gaze scanning the horizon like the perfect ceo out of a drama. but as soon as his eyes met yours, they softened—barely, subtly—but you noticed.
“get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for you.
you slipped in without protest, heart beating faster than it had any right to.
once the car pulled away from the curb, the silence settled—but it didn’t last long.
“you can’t do that,” he said, not harshly, just... firm.
“do what?” you asked, knowing damn well.
“greet me like that. like that.” he glanced at you sideways. “at work.”
you shrugged. “what? we’re dating now. aren’t we?”
“we’re seeing where this goes,” he corrected. “but we still have to be professional. people talk. your position can be affected. and mine—”
you cut in, not harshly but with a certain fire. “i’m not going to apologize for being happy.”
“i’m not asking you to apologize.”
“then don’t ask me to pretend. i’ll dial it down, sure. but i’m not going to act like you don’t mean something to me when we’re under the same roof eight hours a day.”
he stayed quiet for a beat, tapping the wheel with one hand, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.
“is this how you are with all your boyfriends?”
you grinned. “i’m worse.”
he laughed. actually laughed. that deep, velvet sound you hadn’t heard much outside of formalities.
“well, i’ll brace myself,” he said. “i might enjoy it.”
you turned to the window, hiding your smile. this was really happening.
the drive back was quiet at first—a comfortable silence that didn’t demand immediate conversation. the kind of quiet that says: you don’t need to perform, just exist here with me.
the radio was on. a soft playlist of english ballads played in the background—songs about longing, beginnings, maybe even second chances. you doubted jaehyun picked them himself. it was probably just the algorithm. still, the timing felt so precise… so intentional, that you wondered if the universe was helping him out tonight.
you played with your fingers over your thighs, crossing and uncrossing your legs slowly, watching the night pass outside the window. city lights in the distance. trees swaying softly in the wind. you tried to guess where he was taking you next, but the truth was… you didn’t really care.
not knowing was part of the charm.
“where are we going?” you finally asked, unable to resist the curiosity.
he smiled without turning to look at you, eyes steady on the road ahead.
“it’s a secret,” he said. “you’ll have to wait and see.”
you squinted at him with mock suspicion, amused—and yet, inside, your heart started to thump a little faster with every mile.
there was something strangely beautiful about not being in control this time. about letting yourself be taken somewhere, not out of submission, but out of trust. you weren’t used to that. you weren’t used to letting anyone drive. but tonight, you wanted to believe you could lean back and just... be.
and then… the car turned down a dark, barely lit road, and you saw it.
a wide, open lot. a giant projector screen glowing at the far end. dozens of cars parked in neat rows, some with trunks open, fairy lights, blankets, snacks. couples curled together under the stars.
it was a drive-in movie. like something out of an old romance film.
you gasped, both hands flying to your mouth as you turned to him.
“oh my god. no way. are you serious?! i love the movies—but i've never done this. i’ve always wanted to, but… i don’t know. it just never happened.”
jaehyun glanced at you sideways. and this time, he smiled. really smiled. not the polite, composed smile he wore in the hallways or meetings—but something warm. something real.
“then it was a good idea,” he said simply.
he parked in the middle row. good view of the screen, but far enough for privacy. you were already melting—and then he popped the trunk.
a thick blanket. two small pillows. a tote bag with snacks—popcorn, a big soda bottle, even the exact chocolate bars you’d once said you liked during a random, probably drunk, late-night conversation. you didn’t even remember mentioning it.
he did.
“did you plan all of this?” you asked, curled slightly sideways in the passenger seat while he arranged everything with care between you.
“i just wanted you to be comfortable,” he said. “i wanted it to be... special.”
no posturing. no hidden motive. just sincerity. you felt it in the way he unfolded the blanket and draped it gently over your lap. in how he checked the window—cracked just enough to let in the breeze, not enough to let in the cold. In how he handed you the soda first, before even opening his own drink.
the movie started. some lighthearted rom-com with ridiculous dialogue and cheesy plot points, but it didn’t matter. it was perfect. low-stakes. no pressure. you curled your legs under you, blanket snug, the flickering light from the screen dancing across your skin.
every once in a while, you’d glance at jaehyun. and more than once, you caught him watching you instead of the film.
“are you bored?” you whispered.
“not even close.”
“you haven’t laughed once.”
he turned to you, that sarcastic little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly.
“you’re already making enough noise for the both of us.”
you gave him a playful slap on the arm, pretending to be offended.
“that was a compliment,” he added, amused.
you rolled your eyes—but smiled. god, you smiled so much that night.
as the credits rolled, something shifted in the silence. the mood thickened—not heavy, just… deeper. weighted with something. a moment hanging on the edge of change. your head leaned against the window as the screen dimmed, your eyes distant but your heart so very full.
he still didn’t touch you.
he didn’t grab your hand. didn’t lean in.
but his presence wrapped around you all the same—solid, patient, waiting. not pushing, just there. learning how to be near you without demanding anything in return.
“thank you,” you said softly, voice almost too quiet to hear. “for this. for everything.”
“you don’t have to thank me.”
“yes, i do. it’s not every day someone goes out of their way like this.”
he paused before answering. his tone was steady, but low.
“i want this to work,” he said. “and if that means planning teenage-level dates with blankets and popcorn, then… yeah. i’ll do that.”
you laughed, eyes dropping to your lap.
“you’re doing well so far.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
and then you looked at each other. just looked. no words needed.
but inside… you felt it.
your shoulders, usually tense, were light. your heart, bruised and cautious for so long, was opening again. quietly, but surely. as if whispering, i’m still here. i still want to believe.
you weren’t sure where this would go. if it would last. if it would end in tears or something worse.
but right now, in his car, under the stars, with the last notes of the film still echoing through your skin…
you wanted to find out.
you wanted to try.
the next morning at the office felt different—less chaotic, more grounded. you greeted the receptionist with a small smile, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way in, clutching your coffee cup like a security blanket. you weren't glowing, exactly, but something about you was… softer. less guarded. like a petal finally relaxing in the warmth of spring after a too-long winter.
jaehyun noticed immediately.
you caught him watching you from the glass-walled conference room as you entered the bullpen. he didn't stare, not in a way that would make it obvious to others—but his eyes followed you, just long enough to clock the change. your navy blue pencil skirt hugged your hips, the slit in the back offering just the right amount of grace as you walked. the cream blouse you wore was modest but elegant, the top button left undone, showing the delicate line of your collarbone. your hair was half-up, your makeup minimal, professional—but the gloss on your lips and the quiet shimmer on your eyelids betrayed a whisper of mischief. not overt. just enough for someone paying attention.
you met his gaze briefly through the glass and raised your brows in a silent hello before looking away, sipping your coffee with forced nonchalance.
by the time you crossed paths an hour later—both of you heading into a smaller briefing room—he gave you that look again. the one that asked, really? amused, but faintly disbelieving.
"good morning, mr. jeong," you greeted him politely, eyes straight ahead as if you hadn't spent the last night wrapped in his blanket, watching a movie with your legs tangled under it.
"miss y/l/n," he replied, his lips curving into a knowing smile as he held the door open for you. “very formal today.”
you didn’t rise to the bait. just gave him a brief, professional smile and walked past, heels clicking, not looking back. you were committed to the bit.
the meeting was brief, technical—a review of deliverables, some feedback loops, nothing out of the ordinary. you contributed where you needed to, kept your tone measured, avoided lingering glances. even when he made a rare joke and the room chuckled, you only allowed yourself a small, polite laugh, hands folded neatly on the table.
he didn’t push. but when you passed each other near the coffee station later, his voice dropped low, just enough for you to hear.
“you’re really leaning into the whole executive assistant with boundaries thing, huh?”
you smirked as you refilled your mug, still not looking at him. “just trying to keep things professional, mr. jeong.”
“of course.” he nodded once, pretending to adjust his tie. “wouldn’t want to cross any lines.”
you bit your lip to suppress your grin. the game was on.
at 3:47 PM, your phone lit up with a text from his office number:
meeting with the department heads in fifteen. boardroom. don’t be late.
signed J.J.
you rolled your eyes but your stomach did a little flip.
the 4 PM meeting dragged—there was a lot of back and forth over campaign numbers and rollout schedules, but you held your own, taking notes, speaking clearly when your insight was needed. you could feel jaehyun watching you when others weren’t—his gaze warm, grounding—but he didn’t speak to you directly unless it was related to the discussion. you appreciated that. It let you stay in control, let you breathe.
after everyone had trickled out and the room was quiet, you stayed behind a moment, closing your laptop and straightening the chairs without a word. he didn’t move from his seat at the head of the table, just watched you as you moved, his fingers idly spinning a pen.
“dinner?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence.
you didn’t look up right away. “are you asking as mr. jeong or...?”
he tilted his head, eyes playful. “just jaehyun.”
you looked up, meeting his eyes. something flickered between you—recognition. of the past few days, the softness in your chest, the way your shoulders had finally stopped bracing for disappointment.
“okay,” you said quietly. “dinner.”
he didn’t take you to a fancy restaurant or anywhere showy. just a quiet little rooftop place downtown, dim lights and mellow music, open air and the sound of the city below. you sat across from him at a small table, knees brushing under the surface. you shared dishes, laughed softly, talked about nothing and everything. he asked about your childhood; you asked about his first heartbreak. there was no rush to get anywhere. just being there—together—was enough.
at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you.
at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you with that open expression he reserved for moments like this—unguarded, gently curious.
“you said you grew up outside the city,” he said, casually swirling the remnants of his drink. “what about your parents?”
you set your fork down and rested your elbows lightly on the table, exhaling. “they still live in the same town. a couple hours from here.”
he nodded. “siblings?”
“one,” you replied. “older brother. married. two little boys.”
jaehyun smiled at that. “you’re the cool aunt.”
you laughed softly, the sound bittersweet. “i try. i send them stickers and weird snacks from the city. but i think i’m mostly the mysterious aunt who lives alone in seoul and doesn’t have a husband, which is a major point of concern for my parents.”
jaehyun raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “concern?”
“oh, huge.” you leaned back, crossing your arms with a mock-serious nod. “they think i’m one heartbreak away from crawling back into my childhood bedroom with a suitcase and giving up entirely. i get the same call every weekend—‘have you met someone yet?’ and ‘when are you coming home, sweetheart?’ like my single status is a national emergency.”
you smiled, tried to make it sound light. funny. but the knot in your chest tugged a little tighter with each word. because underneath the teasing tone, it hurt. the weight of expectation, of having let them down without really meaning to. you’d always thought, by now, you’d have that picture-perfect family. a husband. maybe a child. but life had taken its own sharp turns, and somewhere along the way, you'd lost the map.
before your thoughts could spiral too far inward, you turned your eyes toward him and asked, “what about you? any siblings?”
he shook his head. “only child.”
“wow. that explains the drama,” you teased.
he grinned, playing along. “what drama?”
you shrugged, playful. “the perfectly tousled hair. the quiet confidence. the whole mysterious boss with a tragic past vibe.”
jaehyun laughed, the sound low and warm. “nothing tragic, thankfully. my parents own a condo complex back in busan. they keep to themselves. ever since i moved out, they’ve stayed out of my decisions. no guilt trips. no blind dates.”
he smirked a little, taking another sip. “which is great for me.”
you smiled at that, but there was something about the way he said it—casual, yes, but laced with a kind of loneliness you recognized. the kind that came with being left alone a little too much. with being successful but still carrying a shadow no one quite asked about.
you watched him for a second longer than necessary. then nodded slowly. “that does sound kind of great.”
he looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you shifted—deeper now. heavy with things not said.
the city hummed around you. glasses clinked from other tables. somewhere, a violinist was playing faintly near the street below. but you only heard the soft cadence of his breath, the way it matched your own.
and then he stood and offered you his hand.
you didn’t hesitate this time. you let him lead you to the edge of the rooftop, where the view was clearer, the air colder. your arms brushed as you looked out together, shoulder to shoulder, warm skin against cool wind.
he turned to you first, eyes darker now, thoughtful. “you don’t need to rush anything. marriage, or whatever they want from you. you’re… okay. just as you are.”
you looked at him slowly, your heart caught somewhere between gratitude and ache. “thanks,” you whispered. “sometimes i forget.”
he stepped closer—barely—but it was enough to make your breath hitch.
you met his gaze, and something shifted between you again. tighter. stronger. the kind of tension that doesn’t demand to be broken, only… felt.
he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you didn’t.
your lips met his softly, a single, tentative kiss that carried the full weight of everything left unspoken. sweet, searching, the kind of kiss that says i see you. that says stay.
and when you pulled back, your eyes didn’t dart away.
they lingered.
because something had begun. and neither of you was pretending anymore.
there was no big speech. no sudden declarations.
just the quiet gravity of this moment. the closeness. the way his eyes searched yours with a gentleness that made your breath catch.
april melted into may in soft, golden increments—like a candle burning slow at both ends. the weather grew gentler, the evenings warmer, and with each passing day, your relationship with jaehyun unraveled in small, tender pieces that neither of you rushed to name.
you had more dinners together. nothing extravagant—he wasn’t the kind to impress with grand gestures—but always thoughtful. ramen tucked away in a quiet corner shop with mismatched stools. a spontaneous detour after a work meeting that led to an art gallery’s closing hour. coffee at a tiny cafe with mismatched mugs and jazz playing softly from a dusty speaker. with every outing, something softened between you. the way you spoke to each other, the way you lingered a second longer when saying goodbye, the way your eyes found his in a crowded room and stayed there.
still, at work, everything remained perfectly composed. restrained. you never touched, never called him anything but mr. jeong. no one suspected a thing—and that secrecy gave it all the thrill of something sacred. childish almost. like passing notes under a desk. a shared joke disguised in a spreadsheet. your fingers grazing when you exchanged documents. a glance too long in the breakroom when he poured your coffee before you even asked. you could feel it in the air, that charged silence of two people pretending to be just colleagues, and failing quietly, deliciously.
the project itself was moving well—smooth timelines, promising data. it gave you an excuse to spend more time in his office, laptop open across from his, sometimes both of you too focused to speak for long stretches. sometimes one of you talking while the other typed, nodding with half-listening affection. sometimes, on the slow days, the lines between work and personal conversation blurred gently, like ink on damp paper.
today was one of those days.
you sat across from him, legs crossed under the conference table, scrolling through performance reports while he adjusted a chart on his screen. outside the windows, the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the carpet and the sleeves of his shirt. he leaned back, stretching slightly, then caught your gaze with a small smile.
“so…” he said, voice lower than usual, “what are you doing this weekend?”
you glanced up, biting your lip to hide a smile. “why? do you need me to run more numbers?”
“maybe,” he said, teasing. “but i was thinking something less tragic. maybe the museum? or that poetry cafe you mentioned.”
you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “depends. are you asking as mr. jeong or as… jaehyun?”
he smirked, eyes playful. “i guess that depends on your answer.”
you were about to respond when the door opened without a knock. both of you sat up straighter instinctively, like students caught passing notes. the supervisor from the analytics division stepped in, scanning the room with barely concealed curiosity.
“mr. jeong,” he said, tone clipped, “the director wants to see you.”
jaehyun stood immediately, buttoning his jacket with an easy nod. “i’ll be there in a moment.”
the supervisor looked at you then. his eyes lingered—not long, but long enough. something unreadable passed over his face. “you’ve been spending a lot of time here,” he said, like it wasn’t a question.
you gave him your most neutral smile. “just supporting the project. we’re on a tight schedule.”
“mm.” he said nothing more, just nodded once and stepped out.
jaehyun glanced at you before leaving, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe. or quiet warning. you went back to your laptop, fingers pretending to type while your heart tried to calm its sudden gallop.
the evening found you both in his car again. the sun had already begun its descent, turning the sky a soft shade of apricot. you slid into the passenger seat, closed the door behind you, and without thinking too much, leaned over to kiss his cheek.
his skin was warm under your lips.
he blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, he forgot to hide it. the tips of his ears flushed red. he cleared his throat and reached for the ignition, like nothing happened, but his smile lingered, crooked and faint.
“you keep doing that,” he murmured, not looking at you.
“doing what?” you asked innocently.
he shook his head, eyes on the road. “making it hard to pretend we’re not dating.”
you grinned and didn’t answer.
he drove you to the han river, where the breeze was cool and kind, and the crowds were light enough to feel private. you sat cross-legged on the grass, sharing tteokbokki and fried dumplings from paper trays, watching cyclists blur past under the lamplights. a small speaker nearby played an old ballad, sweet and melancholic, and you leaned into his shoulder without needing permission.
“i like this,” you said softly.
“what part?” he asked.
“this part. where everything’s… quiet.”
he didn’t speak immediately. just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
“me too.”
you looked at him, really looked—and it hit you in that moment how far you’d come. from formal greetings and polite distance to soft laughter and shared silence. from stolen glances to kisses on the cheek that left him blushing.
and somehow, without realizing it, you’d stopped keeping count of how many times you thought about him during the day. because now he was part of your days.
and you didn’t want to imagine them without him anymore.
june arrived with a subtle shift in rhythm—projects moved faster, deadlines drew closer, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. the office felt heavier in the afternoons, warm with late spring air and the quiet hum of new beginnings.
one of those beginnings came in the form of kim jungwoo.
he was transferred from the incheon branch—a bright-eyed analyst with quick wit and a laugh that filled corners. you were told he'd be supporting the data team, and since your department handled most of the projections, he was placed right in front of your desk, where your eyes met every time you looked up. your first impression of him was that he was disarmingly charming—too friendly, too easygoing for the stiff, quiet culture of the office—but undeniably efficient. he asked questions that made sense, learned fast, and had a way of easing tension with a joke delivered just under his breath.
you kept things professional, as always. showed him how you sorted the quarterly metrics, how to navigate the company’s outdated database system without crashing it, how to color-code your sheets for easier reading. he listened, smiled, nodded. and eventually, he joked. made you laugh when you’d been staring at the same budget chart for hours. brought you coffee with your name scribbled on the lid in dramatic calligraphy. sometimes too much, sometimes exactly what you needed.
you liked him. platonically. comfortably. it was easy to like jungwoo.
but jaehyun noticed. of course he did.
at first, it was subtle. he’d call you into his office more frequently, asking for reports he usually didn’t request until later in the week. you didn’t think much of it—until you realized he was keeping you in there for hours. even when the topic had already run dry, even when both of you were silently pretending to still be discussing something relevant. you’d glance at your watch, mumble about needing to check on jungwoo’s progress, and jaehyun would give you this look—tight-lipped, unreadable, almost irritated.
the third time it happened, you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
“are you seriously going to keep me hostage in your office every time jungwoo asks me a question?” you asked, laptop balanced on your knees, arms crossed.
jaehyun didn’t answer right away. he leaned back in his chair, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, watching you. but there was tension under his cool expression, the kind that coiled in his jaw.
“you’re my girlfriend” he said, voice low, measured. “even if we have to act like colleagues in this building, you’re not just anyone to me.”
your breath caught. not because of what he said—because of the way he said it. with that sharp, quiet certainty, like it wasn’t up for debate.
“you’re jealous,” you muttered, trying to smile, to turn it into something lighter.
“of course i’m jealous,” he said, leaning forward. “he’s new, he’s charming, and he’s looking at you like he already knows what you taste like.”
your face flushed.
you looked away, but only for a second.
because when you met his eyes again, he stood.
in two strides he was in front of you, taking the laptop gently from your knees and setting it on the coffee table without a word. then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you—deep, slow, and hungry. there was nothing tentative about it. it wasn’t sweet or shy. it was possession, poured soft and molten through the shape of his mouth on yours. you sighed into it, hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulse thudding in your throat.
he pulled away just enough to speak, voice rough. “don’t tease me about this.”
you nodded, breathless. “okay.”
and then he kissed you again.
the kiss tasted like all the things you weren’t allowed to say out loud. frustration. longing. the ache of pretending, day after day, that you were only what the world let you be. his thumb stroked your jaw as his mouth opened against yours, deeper now, slower. you felt your knees weaken and your thoughts scatter, all logic melting into the heat of the moment.
that night, like every night since the start of your secret, you met him outside the office. his car waited at the edge of the lot, tinted windows and the soft thump of quiet music playing through the speakers. you slid into the passenger seat, your heart already dancing.
this time, he didn’t say hello.
he reached over and kissed you—harder than before, lips parting yours in a way that made your body sing. the car wasn’t moving. neither of you were thinking. you kissed like it was all you knew how to do. mouths hungry, breath shallow, his hand tracing the edge of your thigh just enough to make you gasp. every time you pulled away for air, he followed. every time he groaned into your kiss, you shivered.
he never rushed.
never crossed that line you hadn’t yet spoken about.
but you felt how close it hovered. just under the skin.
and as your lips brushed his one last time before pulling back, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “i like it when you get jealous.”
his smile was crooked. dangerous.
“you better not like it too much,” he said, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, “because next time… i might not let you leave so easily.”
thursday crept in quietly, with no big plans or messages of anticipation. the city, usually loud and hungry for excitement, felt unusually tame that week—like it had spent itself on too many events, too many evenings out, too many people chasing novelty in crowded cafés and rooftop bars. maybe it was just you, though. maybe everything had started to feel dull because your world had shifted to revolve around something—someone—entirely new. and nothing outside of that circle could compare anymore.
you barely spent time in your apartment lately. always out. always in his car, in places that weren’t quite home but felt more real because he was there. so on that afternoon, with your head tilted against the cold surface of your desk and your brain spinning from spreadsheets, you blurted it out between quiet keyboard taps.
“don’t make any plans tomorrow night.”
jaehyun glanced at you from across his office, pen in hand, eyebrows drawn. “should i be worried?”
you smiled without looking up. “you’re staying over. the weekend. at my place.”
the pause was heavy. not uncomfortable, but... loaded. you didn’t dare lift your head until he spoke.
“wait—what?”
and there it was. you looked at him finally, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. he looked stunned. genuinely caught off guard.
“you heard me. pack a bag. pajamas. toothbrush. snacks. i don’t know. whatever you need to survive two days with me.”
his face went red. a deep, rich pink that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you laughed. he was thinking things.
“ya, what were you imagining?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk.
“nothing!” he defended too fast. “i just... i didn’t expect we’d be spending the weekend... alone like that. it’s not a bad thing. i like it. i like the idea. i just—i mean, we’ve been doing great. this relationship. it feels good. real. and... if it keeps going like this, who knows—maybe one day we’ll get married.”
you froze.
he didn’t say it as a joke. it was quiet. casual. but he meant it.
married.
you hadn’t thought about that in weeks. you’d been so swept up in the rush of the new—new glances, new kisses, new secret dates and stolen evenings. but that word made your heart skip, stumble, leap. it opened a future you hadn’t dared imagine.
married to jeong jaehyun. walking down an aisle. your coworkers gasping. your parents trying to stay calm. him lifting your veil. kissing you like it was the beginning of forever. sunday mornings with kids and cartoons and coffee. vacations. shared bookshelves. him waiting at the door when you got home.
you shook the image out of your head.
“you can’t just say things like that,” you whispered, barely breathing.
“why not?” he asked softly, his eyes sincere. “it’s where we’re going, right?”
friday night came like a slow exhale.
he arrived with a small black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish grin. you wore mismatched pajamas—striped pants and a faded hoodie from a school club you barely remembered joining. the sight of you like that made him laugh, and the sound was so unguarded it made your chest ache with affection.
you stayed in. ordered too much food. picked a cheesy rom-com that made you cry halfway through. he kept making sarcastic comments at first, trying to pretend he didn’t care, until somewhere in the middle he got quiet. his hand found yours under the blanket, warm and steady. when the credits rolled, your head was on his shoulder and your eyes were puffy.
“i hate that you made me cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face.
“i didn’t make you cry. blame julia roberts,” he said, kissing the top of your head.
the rest of the night blurred. an improvised dinner of instant noodles and wine, soft music from your phone speaker, him dancing stupidly in the kitchen with a wooden spoon, trying to make you laugh. and you did. hard. the kind of laugh that made you forget to be careful.
when it got late, and the lights dimmed, the kisses came back. slow. long. searching. his hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, breathing each other in like you were afraid to stop. the heat built, like always, but neither of you pushed further. it wasn’t time. not yet. but god, it was close.
saturday was lazy and warm and beautiful.
you woke up tangled in the blankets, his arm draped over your stomach, his breath soft against your neck. the kind of morning you never thought you’d get to have—where nothing was urgent, and everything felt right.
you took turns in the shower, argued over who finished the milk, and spent an hour sitting on the floor flipping through old photo albums you’d forgotten you had. you didn’t plan to show him—but he insisted. and once he started looking, he didn’t stop.
“wait... this is you in high school?” he asked, pointing at a photo.
“yeah,” you said, embarrassed. “why?”
“you were so cute.”
you rolled your eyes. “i wasn’t popular or anything. i had one boyfriend. lasted a week.”
he stared. “a week?”
“he said i was too uptight and boring.”
jaehyun’s mouth dropped open. “that guy was an idiot.”
you laughed. “no, he was probably right. i’ve always been... structured. controlled. even back then. guess that’s why i’m like this now—such a workaholic.”
he didn’t laugh. instead, he kept looking at your photo—finger brushing over the glossy paper like it meant something.
“if i had met you back then,” he said quietly, “i would’ve fallen in love with you. no doubt.”
your breath caught.
he didn’t look away. “i wouldn’t have let you go. not for a second.”
“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, unsure what else to say.
“i do,” he said, firm. “you’re not boring. you’re brilliant. you’re thoughtful. you see things no one else sees. you work harder than anyone i know. and... you make me want to be better.”
tears pricked your eyes again. not from sadness. just—too much emotion. too much truth.
“you’re going to make me cry again,” you whispered.
“then cry,” he said, pulling you close. “but only if you let me hold you through it.”
the rest of the weekend passed like a dream.
grocery runs in sweatpants. a half-burnt attempt at making pancakes. arguments over which playlist was better for cleaning the kitchen. you wore ridiculous socks with cartoons on them. he made fun of you until you found his even worse ones.
you kissed between chores. kissed while brushing your teeth. kissed while folding laundry.
it wasn’t glamorous.
but it felt like home.
and when sunday night came, and he packed his bag again, you didn’t want him to go. not because of the sex, or the thrill, or the high of newness. but because somewhere between instant noodles and high school photos, you realized something terrifying and beautiful—
you were falling in love.
for real.
for the first time.
towards the end of the month, your phone rings. you’re in your apartment, folding laundry with the window cracked open to let in the soft breeze of early summer. the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, painting everything in golden hues. you glance at the caller id and feel a knot tighten in your stomach. mom.
you answer.
“it’s your father’s birthday this weekend,” she says, skipping greetings as always, her voice a mix of cheerful anticipation and subtle reprimand. “you should come visit. he’s been asking if we’ll see you.”
you agree, almost without thinking, but then comes the dreaded question.
“and? have you found a boyfriend yet or do i need to talk to mrs. lee again?”
you rub your temple. “mom—”
“her son is still single, you know. owns a good piece of land. sells vegetables to that big food corporation. you’d be set for life.”
you exhale deeply, eyes closing in frustration.
“i’m… i’m seeing someone.”
a pause. then her voice lights up like fireworks. “you are? oh, this is wonderful! finally, you’re not wasting away alone up there in that office job.”
“mom, we’ve just started seeing each other,” you say, hesitating. “it’s too soon to—”
“no,” she cuts in firmly. “you don’t have time to be unsure. the train is about to leave the station, sweetheart. you either get on or it’s gone. bring him. we want to meet him.”
before you can argue, the call ends with a clipped goodbye, and you’re left staring at your phone, pulse racing and chest tight.
the rest of the week, you feel like a ghost of yourself. distracted at work, distant on your dates with jaehyun, your mind spinning in loops. he notices immediately—of course he does—and it only takes one missed joke and a quiet dinner for him to call you out on it.
you’re sitting across from him, poking at your food. the restaurant is softly lit, cozy, but there’s a distance in your eyes.
“y/n,” he says, setting his chopsticks down. “what’s going on?”
“nothing,” you mutter, but he leans in.
“don’t give me that. we’re together now, remember? you can talk to me. or… if you’re second guessing this… if i’m moving too fast, just tell me. i can handle it.”
your heart aches at his words. you reach across the table, grabbing his hand.
“it’s not that. i’m not doubting us,” you say quietly. “it’s just… my mom called. she wants me to visit this weekend for my dad’s birthday. and she… kind of expects me to bring you.”
he blinks. then, without hesitation, he says, “okay. then i’ll come.”
you blink right back. “wait, seriously?”
“yes. if it means that much to them—and to you—I want to go. i want to meet your family, y/n. it feels right.”
your chest swells with something warm and terrifying. you nod, silently.
friday comes and your suitcase is zipped and ready by the door. you’re wearing a floral summer dress, light and breezy, with your favorite pair of nude heels that make your legs look longer than they are. your hair is pinned loosely, lip tint soft and rosy. there’s a nervous flutter in your chest when you step outside.
jaehyun is already waiting beside his car, leaning casually against it like he belongs in a photoshoot. he’s in cream linen pants and a sage green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open at the throat. his sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, and he looks, frankly, too good to be standing in your quiet little street. you gulp.
“need help with those?” he says with a grin, reaching for your bags before you can answer.
the ride is filled with music, laughter, and long, thoughtful silences. the kind that don't feel awkward, but full. pregnant with meaning. he holds your hand on the highway, thumb stroking the back of it lazily, his warmth anchoring you through your nerves.
when you pull up to your parents' house—a modest home with stone finishings and a neat little front garden—your heart thunders. everything feels smaller, more fragile, like stepping back in time. your mom rushes out first, apron still tied around her waist, eyes wide and wet with excitement.
and when she sees jaehyun? she nearly cries. “you’re real,” she says, pressing her hands together like she’s witnessing a miracle. your dad comes out next, chuckling as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.
“so this is the young man,” he says with a knowing nod, clapping jaehyun on the back. “your mother hasn’t shut up about you since she found out.”
inside, the dining table is set with your dad’s favorite dishes. everything smells like memory. you sit in the living room afterward, your parents across from you, jaehyun beside you on the couch, close enough to feel his knee brushing yours.
he speaks up first, voice calm and clear.
“i just want to say that i’m very serious about your daughter,” he says. “i have genuine intentions. we’re still getting to know each other, but… if things keep going the way they are, i’d like to build a future with her.”
your mother gasps, reaching for a tissue. your father nods slowly, visibly moved.
“this… this is the best birthday gift i could ask for,” he says.
you shrink into the couch, cheeks burning, while jaehyun’s hand finds yours again and squeezes gently.
then comes the chaos.
your older brother, baekhyun, bursts through the door with his wife and two kids in tow. he takes one look at you and smirks.
“who’s the guy and what have you done with my perpetually single little sister?”
you groan. “shut up, baek.”
the two of you bicker like teenagers, tossing playful insults back and forth while your nephews cling to your legs, shouting your name with delight. you hand them the toys you brought and their eyes light up like it’s christmas.
jaehyun watches it all, amused, until one of the boys climbs into his lap and hands him a toy too.
he freezes.
and in that moment, something shifts in him. the sound of children’s laughter, the image of you with a soft smile, cradling one of your nephews in your arms. the warmth of this home, the love in every corner. he imagines it—having this with you. kids with your eyes. a house that’s yours. your framed wedding photo on the wall. vacations. birthdays. late-night talks in bed. wrinkles and silver hair, but still loving you with the same fire.
he blushes.
and you notice.
“what?” you whisper as you lean close.
he shakes his head, smiling to himself. “nothing. just… i really, really like this. all of it.”
the night unfolds gently. dinner turns into stories, stories into laughter, and soon the sun has long set and the house is lit with warm yellow lights. you and jaehyun sit outside for a moment, watching the stars.
he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.
“you feel like home,” you whisper, not even realizing the words have slipped out.
he turns to look at you, eyes soft. “so do you.”
and in the quiet, with the cicadas singing and the echo of your family’s voices drifting from inside, you know.
this might just be the beginning of everything.
the month of july passed by with little to no complications. your parents were pleased with jaehyun, and you could tell that their approval meant the world to him. jungwoo, on the other hand, was playful and teasing, but with a newfound sense of respect, especially as jaehyun started to show more signs of being protective, making sure that jungwoo didn’t cross any boundaries. you were still professional with everyone at work, but the chemistry between you and jaehyun was undeniable. nights together were spent laughing, and weekends were filled with stolen moments of joy, where you both shared something more than just professional courtesy.
jaehyun had made a habit of calling you during the day, just to check on you, and you found yourself doing the same. the conversations were simple, but they felt important. visits to his office became more frequent, sometimes just for work, but other times, it was an excuse to sneak in a kiss or two. the passion between you two continued to build, a slow, steady fire that became increasingly hard to ignore.
one night, a wednesday, you both ignored the weather forecast and decided to take your date out in the city. the air was warm, and the lights of the city sparkled as you walked the streets together. the mood was light, but as midnight approached, the weather took a sharp turn. dark clouds rolled in, and soon, rain began to pour, turning into a violent storm. the wind howled, and the streets quickly flooded. jaehyun’s car struggled against the force of the water, and you couldn’t help but grip the seat, anxious.
jaehyun tried to keep calm, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “it’s okay, nothing’s going to happen,” he said, though you could tell he was also feeling the weight of the storm.
the rain pounded against the windows, and the car barely moved as the currents began to grow stronger. after what felt like an eternity, you both agreed that waiting in the car wasn’t safe anymore. as you both discussed where to go, a motel appeared in front of you. it seemed like an odd choice, but the parking lot was dry, and there were few other options at that hour. both of you hesitated, unsure of what to do. it was a strange situation—neither of you wanted to suggest anything that could be misinterpreted.
jaehyun was the one to break the silence. “let’s just use the parking lot, at least we’ll have shelter from the rain,” he said. “and if it lasts all night, we’ll have a warm place to stay.”
you nodded, a little nervous. “yeah, i mean, we’re not going to do anything else, right? just sleep, then in the morning, we’ll head back to our places and go to work, right?”
jaehyun smiled at you, trying to ease your nerves. “of course, just a safe place to wait out the storm. no pressure.”
you both parked and got out of the car, a little stiff from the tension, but the moment you entered the motel, things started to feel different. jaehyun took the lead, making sure you were comfortable and settled in, giving you space to breathe. He didn’t rush you, always checking to see how you felt.
both of you were tired from the day, and the weather didn’t help the situation, so after some brief, awkward glances, you both decided to take separate showers to unwind. you both changed into something more comfortable, but since it was summer and it was warm, you decided to just sleep in your underwear. when you looked at jaehyun in his, the moment felt almost surreal. his gaze lingered for a moment before he quickly turned away, as if both of you were still trying to adjust to how close you had become.
“you know,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, “you don’t have to feel awkward. we’re taking things at our own pace.”
you smiled, feeling your heartbeat quicken at the sound of his voice. “what if i want to go faster?” you said, your words surprising even yourself.
jaehyun looks at you, eyes widening slightly before they darken with something deeper—something he’s clearly been holding back. “are you sure?” he asks, voice low, almost trembling with restraint.
you nod, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against his bare chest. “i’m sure.”
his hands find your waist gently at first, testing the waters, but when you lean into him, he pulls you in like he’s been waiting forever to hold you like this. his lips find yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens, hungry and needing. he walks you backwards slowly until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp, taking him with you.
his hands roam your body, reverent and slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. he whispers your name against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still. your breath hitches when his mouth lingers between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for any sign to stop—but you nod again, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding him closer.
what he gives you isn’t rushed. it’s worship. like he’s been dreaming of this moment for too long to waste it. you lose yourself in the rhythm of his mouth, the way he listens to your body, adjusting, teasing, giving. he doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking and your voice is broken with moans you couldn’t hold back.
when he finally crawls back up your body, his lips kiss yours again, slower this time, tasting you. he whispers, “still okay?” and you nod, pulling him closer.
when he slides into you, it’s not hurried or careless. it’s deep, slow, and overwhelming in the best way. you cling to him, breathless, as your bodies move together like they were made to. he holds your gaze, foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sticking in the summer heat, but neither of you care.
you whisper his name like a prayer, and he answers with yours, over and over, like he’s trying to brand it into the moment.
you fall apart in his arms, not once, but twice, and he follows soon after, burying his face in your neck as he trembles against you.
his lips are still on yours when he pushes deeper inside you, and this time, there’s no hesitation. your body arches under him, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming all at once. he fills you slowly, inch by inch, like he wants to feel every reaction he pulls from you.
“fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out, forehead resting against yours. “been thinking about this for so long.”
you moan softly, nails dragging down his back as he starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips into you with precision that makes your legs tremble. he kisses down your throat, biting softly at your skin as he picks up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. the headboard taps gently against the wall, a quiet rhythm that matches the sound of your breathy moans and his soft, low groans.
your fingers clutch the sheets, the pleasure building with every thrust. jaehyun’s hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, and the new angle has you gasping his name, your voice breaking. he doesn’t stop—he can’t stop—lost in the feel of you, the sounds you make, the way your body clings to his like it’s the only place it belongs.
he pulls out just enough to see the way you take him, watching your slick coat his length before sliding back in with a filthy, wet sound that makes your toes curl. “look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes locked on yours. “so fucking beautiful like this.”
when he shifts, propping one of your legs over his shoulder, the angle has you crying out, your whole body shuddering. “you’re so deep,” you whimper, and he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, chasing both your highs like a man starved.
your climax hits hard—white-hot and blinding—as your walls clamp down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. he cums with a strangled moan, burying himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he spills into you. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing heavy, hearts pounding in sync.
after a few moments, he pulls out slowly, carefully, kissing your shoulder as he lies beside you and pulls you into his arms.
your body’s still trembling when he runs a hand down your spine, voice low and thick with affection. “think we’re still just sleeping?”
you laugh softly against his chest, lazy fingers tracing circles on his skin. “not a chance.”
he kisses the top of your head. “then let’s not sleep yet.”
and before you can even respond, he’s already kissing down your body again—because one round clearly wasn’t enough.
you barely have time to catch your breath before jaehyun’s mouth is back on your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, over your stomach. his hands roam your thighs with greedy fingers, and even though you’re still sensitive, your body responds instantly—needy, aching, already ready for him again.
“you’re still so wet,” he murmurs, spreading you open with his fingers, dragging two of them slowly through your folds. “fuck, baby… you’re dripping.”
your hips jerk when he circles your clit, light and teasing, and you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. “j-jaehyun…”
he smirks, dark eyes meeting yours as he sinks his fingers into you—slow, deep, curling just right. “you can take it, can’t you?” he says, voice thick with lust. “you want it again.”
you nod helplessly, mouth parted as your back arches off the bed. he fucks you with his fingers until you’re trembling again, begging for him, grinding down onto his hand like you can’t get enough—and you can’t.
when he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up again, there’s no patience this time. he pushes in all at once, rougher, deeper, making your breath catch in your throat. the stretch, the pressure, the heat—it’s almost too much, but you crave every second of it.
he fucks you like he owns you now, one hand on your hip, the other pressing down on your stomach so he can feel himself inside you. “you feel that?” he groans. “you’re taking all of me.”
your moans turn shameless, high-pitched and raw, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every thrust. the bed creaks, the headboard pounds against the wall, and you don’t care who hears. he flips you onto your stomach without warning, pulling your hips up, and slides back into you from behind.
you cry out at the new angle, your hands clawing at the sheets as he drives into you, deeper than before. “god—jaehyun, i’m gonna—”
“cum for me,” he growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to kiss the side of your neck. “cum all over my cock, baby.”
your orgasm hits like a shockwave, blinding and hot and overwhelming. your whole body shakes, legs giving out beneath you as he keeps fucking you through it. he follows moments later, groaning your name as he fills you again, hips jerking against your ass, the sound of it all so filthy and perfect.
this time, when you collapse together on the bed, everything is soaked in sweat and heat and the scent of sex. your body is limp, your mind dazed, and he just pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he’s never letting go.
“okay,” you whisper, laughing breathlessly. “now we might need to sleep.”
he chuckles against your hair, voice rough. “maybe. after round three.”
that night at the motel changed everything.
it wasn’t just the sex—though, god, it was incredible. it was the way his hands learned your body like a second language, the way he whispered your name like a secret, the way you both let yourselves fall without fear. that night was messy, breathless, and soaked in want. but more than anything, it was a turning point—a quiet, unspoken agreement that this was no longer just something casual. not for either of you.
after that, the line between love and lust blurred beautifully. sex became part of your rhythm, part of how you communicated. stolen glances in the office turned into stolen kisses in the elevator. late nights became sleepovers, and every morning-after was filled with lazy touches and knowing smiles. you memorized each other’s moans like favorite songs, found new ways to say i want you, even when the words themselves weren’t spoken.
but there was one night that stood out. the one you still think about more than any other.
it was the night you stayed over at his apartment—just the two of you, no distractions, no storms outside, only the slow burn between your bodies. dinner turned into kisses. kisses turned into the first round on his kitchen counter, then the second in the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as your bodies tangled and slipped together like water and flame.
by the third round, it was past midnight. you were already sore, breathless, but insatiable. he pulled you back into bed, whispering things in your ear that made your skin burn. he was rougher that time—hungrier—gripping your hips as he fucked you deep and slow, drawing out every moan until your voice was hoarse and your mind was gone.
you were on top, riding him with lazy, desperate rhythm, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his chest. he looked up at you like you were something divine, his hands guiding your pace, eyes locked on the place where your bodies met.
and just when your orgasm started to hit—when everything went hot and tight and unbearably good—the words slipped out of you.
“i love you.”
your voice cracked around it, high and trembling, your body still grinding against his, your climax crashing over you like a wave. for a split second, everything stopped. you felt him freeze beneath you, heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the shock in his eyes.
you hadn’t meant to say it like that. not in the middle of fucking. not when you were bare in every sense of the word.
it was reckless. vulnerable. raw.
but not wrong.
his hands gripped your waist tighter, and then he was sitting up, arms wrapping around you, thrusting up into you so hard and deep that you sobbed out his name.
“i love you too,” he groaned against your neck. “fuck, i love you so much—too much.”
and then he came—hard and fast, holding you like he never wanted to let go.
afterward, you just lay there on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin, hearts pounding in unison. there was no awkwardness. no regret. only this strange, beautiful calm that settled over the room like dawn.
it was in that moment you realized just how deep your feelings for him ran.
what had started as a simple plan—just something to avoid growing old alone—had become the best part of your life. somewhere along the way, between the office visits and shared glances, motel rooms and quiet mornings, you had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with jaehyun.
and the craziest part?
you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anything—or anyone—else but him.
august wrapped around you like a golden ribbon, thick with heat and filled with the kind of breathless anticipation that only comes after months of hard work. the project was done—finally—after weeks of stress, endless reports, last-minute corrections and late nights. but it was done. and not just done, but successful. glowing feedback, client satisfaction, numbers that sang. it was more than you had dared to hope for.
and then—the email.
subject line: promotion confirmation.
you stared at it for a full minute before opening it. and when you read the words “congratulations, supervisor,” your breath hitched. you covered your mouth. you gasped. and then you ran.
jaehyun wasn’t even at his desk anymore, he was just walking into the hallway when you caught him. “jaehyun!” you called, your voice trembling with a kind of joy that had nowhere to go.
he turned, concerned for half a second—until he saw your face.
and then you said it.
“i got it.”
“you got what?” he blinked, confused.
“the promotion.”
his eyes widened. he froze for a second. and then—his arms were around you before you could even finish breathing. he lifted you, spinning you once, twice, both of you laughing as you clutched his shoulders and buried your face in his neck.
“oh my god, baby—you did it! i knew it, i knew you would!”
you were dizzy, and not just from the spinning. he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. everything was warm and golden and right.
he took you out that night.
you didn’t go anywhere fancy—jaehyun insisted that celebrations should be personal, not performative. so he drove you to that one little pizzeria you loved, the one that made the potato crust just the way you liked it. he ordered your usual without asking, and when the wine came, he raised his glass first.
“to you,” he said, his eyes soft and gleaming under the low light. “my brilliant, unstoppable, incredible woman.”
your heart swelled so fast it almost ached. the clink of your glasses felt like the sound of a new chapter opening.
“i’ve never had this before,” you confessed, fingers curling around the stem of your glass. “celebrating something this big. with someone i love. it feels…” you laughed, shy and overwhelmed. “it feels like everything’s different now.”
jaehyun reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it slowly.
“it is different,” he said. “because now, every good thing that happens to you—we get to celebrate it. together.”
you stared at him, your chest tight with emotion, with the kind of love that had no bottom, no edge. just more.
you leaned across the table, kissing him slow, deep, grateful. pizza between you, wine in your veins, your laughter echoing off the walls of that tiny booth.
you didn’t need fireworks.
this was better.
this was yours.
mid-september arrived with a softness that clung to the air—warm enough to feel like summer still lingered, but mellowed by the early hints of fall. the leaves hadn’t turned yet, but something in the wind carried change. maybe that’s what had been stirring inside you all week—a restless certainty that had taken root in your chest and bloomed with every kiss, every sleepy morning wrapped around each other, every whispered i love you that escaped your lips without hesitation. it had been five months, five months of chaos and clarity, of fire and softness, and you knew now—you didn’t want to wait anymore.
you wanted jaehyun. not in a month. not after careful plans. now.
so you climbed the steps to his office, heart thudding like a war drum, nerves tangled with determination. you paused outside the door, breathed once, twice, and knocked.
“come in,” his voice called, muffled behind the heavy door.
you stepped in and found him at his desk, back slightly hunched, focused on the glow of his screen. he looked up, and the moment he saw you, he smiled—that slow, dazzling smile that always made your knees feel like melted wax—and stood immediately, walking toward you without hesitation. he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it all day.
“jaehyun,” you said, voice almost trembling, more from the gravity of what you were about to say than nerves. he pulled back slightly, tilting his head.
“yeah?”
you met his eyes and, without giving yourself the chance to second-guess it, you let it fall from your lips.
“i want to marry you.”
his lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. he blinked, as if trying to be sure he heard you right.
“i know, baby,” he said, a soft chuckle lacing his words. “that was the whole deal, right? but remember—we said after november. we’d have more time to plan, get everything ready—”
“no,” you interrupted, stepping forward, clutching his hands tightly. “i don’t want to wait till november. i mean it. i want to marry you now. today, tomorrow, next week—i don’t care when or how. i just want to be yours. forever.”
he stared at you, quiet. processing. his brows drew together, and then lifted again like the meaning had just landed fully. his hands gripped yours tighter.
“but—what about the wedding? your parents, mine—”
“we’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “but this... this love we have, i don’t want to keep treating it like something that needs to be scheduled. it’s real. it’s now.”
he took a breath, deep and full. and then, his expression softened into something vulnerable and glowing—his eyes shone with something deeper than just affection. he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “you want to be my wife.”
you nodded, lips brushing his as you breathed, “more than anything.”
his thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if committing this moment to memory. “then we’ll do it. not because it’s rushed, but because we know. we’ve known. and if you want to be my wife now... then i’ll make it happen. we’ll get married. i promise.”
and he kissed you again, this time slower, as if sealing an oath between your mouths.
the proposal happened three days later.
he told you it was just a normal date—dinner, then a walk somewhere scenic. no pressure. he even played it off by wearing something casual: a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, soft beige slacks, and the cleanest pair of loafers you’d ever seen. he looked devastatingly handsome without trying.
he picked you up and drove toward the edge of the city, toward the river trail where the summer festivals were usually held. the area was quiet now, early autumn having driven the crowds away. but fairy lights still dangled from the trees, twinkling faintly as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, honeyed hue over everything.
he walked with you along the wooden path, your fingers tangled. his hand was slightly clammy. you noticed, and your heart fluttered, thinking—he’s nervous. the realization made you giddy.
and then, just as you reached the little bridge that overlooked the water, he stopped.
“wait here,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “don’t move.”
he jogged a few steps ahead, ducked behind a low fence near a cluster of trees, and returned with a bouquet of peonies—your favorite. you hadn’t told him that. he remembered.
your eyes began to water.
he handed them to you, smiling shyly, and then pulled something out of his pocket.
a velvet box.
he opened it without a speech, without fanfare. his voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours like the world outside didn’t exist.
“you already said yes,” he whispered. “but i want to do this right.”
he got down on one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him, and held the ring up.
“y/n, will you marry me—not next month, not in theory, not in some future we’re still trying to picture... but now. for real. because i’m yours. and you’re mine.”
you didn’t cry. you sobbed. like an idiot. like a girl who had waited her whole life for someone like him. you nodded so fast your vision blurred and fell into his arms, and he kissed you like he was promising you the rest of forever.
in that moment, september never felt sweeter.
telling the company was a whole thing.
it started with a scheduled meeting—a weekly operations check-in with the usual suspects: team leads, upper management, the supervisor, and a couple of sharp-eyed executives who never missed a detail. it was jaehyun’s idea to make it official at work, to do it clean and direct and proudly. no rumors. no hiding. just the truth, glowing and solid like the ring that now lived permanently on your finger.
you both walked into the meeting room together, which wasn’t unusual, but something in the way your hands brushed as you took your seat already had jungwoo giving you the side-eye.
the presentation started, charts and projections lighting up the screen behind jaehyun as he stood with calm confidence. it was business as usual—until the last slide.
"before we wrap up," he said, glancing back at the room, his eyes finding yours briefly before turning to the group again, "i have one personal announcement to make."
you swallowed. jungwoo leaned forward like a damn hawk. mr. choi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he'd been waiting for this moment since spring.
jaehyun smiled—soft, boyish, unbothered. “as some of you may know… or have guessed," he said, and gave jungwoo a teasing look that made him gasp, "i knew it," he muttered dramatically—"y/n and i have been seeing each other for a while.”
the room exploded. a gasp from the secretary and the supervisor actually choked on his coffee. someone in the back whispered “what the fuck” under their breath.
jaehyun held up a hand, a little smug, a little amused.
“and, as of last weekend… we’re engaged.”
your cheeks were burning. your heart thundered. you expected chaos, maybe disapproval, but what followed was—
cheering. clapping. wide eyes and stunned smiles. even mr. choi looked like he was trying very hard not to grin.
“you’re marrying jaehyun? our jaehyun?” he blinked at her, then looked at jaehyun like he’d just discovered a double life. “okay, i knew something was going on. i’m not blind. but marriage? dude, that’s insane. like, insane in the good way, but—holy shit.”
you stood up, feeling brave. “we just didn’t want to hide it anymore,” you said. “we’re really happy. and we hope you’ll be happy for us too.”
the room burst into applause again. someone shouted, “wedding invites or we riot!”
the parents came next.
you visited your family first. your mom opened the door and immediately noticed the ring. she gasped, dropped the dish towel she was holding, and squealed in that way only mothers can. within seconds, your dad was there too, grinning, eyes glossy, holding jaehyun’s shoulder like he was already part of the family.
"are you kidding me," your mom kept saying. "you're engaged? oh my god, you're engaged!"
you nodded, trying not to cry as she hugged you so tight it hurt.
“he’s everything i ever wanted for you,” your dad told you quietly, before giving jaehyun a very serious handshake. “you take care of her.”
“always,” jaehyun promised, voice thick with sincerity.
then it was his parents' turn.
you were more nervous, but you shouldn’t have been. the moment jaehyun’s mom saw you, she pulled you into a hug, muttering in korean how beautiful you were, how she’d been praying her son would be smart enough to not let you go. his dad was more reserved, but the sparkle in his eye said everything. when jaehyun said, “we’re getting married,” his mother clapped her hands and screamed like she’d just won the lottery.
“we’re so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “you are already family.”
they brought out food, wine, photos from jaehyun’s childhood. his mom made you take home a tupperware of kimchi and a crocheted doily she claimed she made for whoever he married one day. she said she just had a feeling it was going to be you, and jaehyun turned red.
it turned out that weddings—real weddings—took a lot more time to plan than y/n had expected. even with jaehyun’s calming presence and the help of a surprisingly competent wedding planner, the months passed like petals falling from a tree: softly, quickly, too beautifully to hold onto.
they settled on march 28. it gave them just enough time to breathe, to build, to dream together.
from the moment they told everyone—first their friends, then their families, and finally, in a hilariously formal email, the entire company—the whirlwind began. the announcement caused a stir so loud in the office that y/n had to leave her desk just to get some peace.
the directivos were equally shocked, though mostly amused.
her supervisor just nodded sagely, like he’d been betting on this since the beginning.
“you two were always ‘too in sync’,” he said, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “i give it six months before one of you becomes the other's boss at home too.”
and then came the parents.
jaehyun’s mother cried when she met y/n, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her tight and whispered in korean, “you’re even more beautiful than he said. and i knew he was in love the first time he said your name.”
her own parents, after recovering from the initial shock, became obsessively involved in the planning, sending flower samples, playlist suggestions, and opinions on wedding favors at all hours of the day.
but none of it was overwhelming. not with jaehyun there, always pulling her back into calm. always making sure this was their wedding, not anyone else’s.
they chose a venue outside the city—a small vineyard with soft hills, blooming wisteria, and golden light that melted everything it touched. march 28 arrived with the scent of earth and lilac, a warm wind, and the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.
y/n stood before a mirror in a white gown that made her feel like everything good in the world had been sewn together just for her. she could hear the quiet rustle of guests arriving, the soft music playing in the distance, the laughter of children running between the rows of flowers.
and then, jaehyun.
when she saw him waiting at the altar, dressed in a suit that fit like second skin, with his hair slightly tousled and a look in his eyes that could undo galaxies—she forgot how to breathe.
he mouthed “you’re perfect” as she walked down the aisle.
she mouthed “you’re mine.”
the ceremony was intimate, emotional, wrapped in vows that made everyone cry—even jungwoo, who tried to play it off by pretending he had allergies.
“i promise to protect your dreams as fiercely as my own,” jaehyun said, voice trembling slightly, “and to always make sure your pizza has the right amount of potato crust, even when we’re eighty.”
“i promise to choose you, even on the days we forget how lucky we are,” y/n replied, tears in her eyes. “and to never let the fire between us die, even when we’re old and gray.”
they kissed.
and the world felt new again.
their first dance was under strings of fairy lights, barefoot on the grass. the song was soft, a slow jazz tune that jaehyun had played for her once in the car when she’d been crying. now, with her head against his chest, they swayed like the wind had been made just for them.
“we did it,” she whispered.
“we did,” he said. “and i’d marry you again tomorrow if i could.”
the honeymoon came a few days later. they chose santorini, greece, not for the postcard beauty or luxury, but because y/n had once told him, offhandedly, that she always dreamed of watching the sun melt into the sea from a white rooftop. he remembered.
their suite was perched on a cliff, overlooking the caldera, with white walls and blue domes and windows that opened to eternity. the first night, they sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine, their feet touching, their hands always searching for each other.
they kissed under sunsets and made love under stars.
they danced in narrow streets, shared kisses between sips of ouzo, fed each other olives and sweet baklava.
they were ridiculous. and in love. and utterly themselves.
“this is the life i want,” y/n whispered one night, tangled in cotton sheets, her cheek against his chest.
“then it’s the life we’ll have,” jaehyun said. “forever.”
and this time, forever didn’t sound like a fairytale.
it sounded like a promise.
three years passed like chapters in a love letter—written slowly, lived fully.
you and jaehyun made a home out of a sleek little apartment tucked into the rhythm of the city. it was all black wood and soft gray, velvet cushions and open windows where sunlight poured in like gold. it wasn’t big, but it held your whole world. your toothbrushes leaned against each other. your shoes tangled by the door. your laughter lived in the walls.
mornings were sleepy and soft—coffee mugs clinking, your legs wrapped around his under the kitchen table, newspaper pages ignored in favor of each other’s eyes. nights were even softer—blankets twisted around you, movie soundtracks playing in the background while your fingers danced across his skin. the kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures—just the warmth of his palm on your thigh and the way he said “come here” like home itself.
but then, one evening, the quiet changed.
you were in the bathroom. pacing. heart in your throat. your phone timer ticked like thunder in the silence. the test rested on the sink, small and still—like it held the weight of the universe. you sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled up, trying to breathe.
when the timer stopped, you moved like you were underwater. slow. hesitant. scared.
two pink lines.
you stared. blinked. stared again.
your lips parted, the shape of a whisper you couldn’t form. your hands trembled, and for a moment, the whole world tilted—just you and that tiny piece of plastic and everything it now meant.
you stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, holding the test like it might shatter.
jaehyun was on the couch, lounging with his phone, one leg bent lazily, hair tousled from running his hand through it too many times. he looked up. paused. frowned softly. “baby… what is it?”
you didn’t answer right away. just walked toward him—slow, like the floor might disappear—and placed the test in his hand.
“we’re gonna be parents!!”
the silence cracked. and then—
jaehyun surged forward, arms wrapping around you so tight you gasped. he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around the living room like a kid on christmas morning, laughter bursting from his chest, from yours, from some place deep inside where all the hope had been hiding.
you were both crying. laughing. kissing. saying “we did it!” over and over again like a prayer you never thought you’d get to say out loud. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking, “we’re having a baby.”
“we’re having our baby,” you whispered.
months passed like petals falling from a blooming tree.
you were glowing. exhausted, but glowing.
your blush-pink maternity dress clung gently to your growing belly, printed with tiny white florals that made jaehyun smile every time he saw you in it. your feet were bare, your ankles swollen, your back ached constantly—but he was always there, hands rubbing your spine, lips on your shoulder, whispering, “you’re magic, you know that?”
the nursery was nearly finished—lavender walls painted with care, gold stars twinkling on the ceiling, and a soft mobile that played lullabies like stardust. the crib waited, delicate and perfect, with a plush bunny nestled in the corner.
jaehyun was kneeling by the dresser, sweat on his brow, tongue between his teeth as he finished the final drawer. he looked up, eyes finding you immediately, and god—he looked at you like the whole sky lived inside your smile.
“she’s gonna love this room,” he said, standing to press a hand to your belly. his palm warm. grounding. full of quiet awe. “our little moon.”
you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “i hope she gets your eyes,” you whispered.
he smiled, eyes soft with wonder. “and your heart,” he murmured. “especially your heart.”
the room went quiet again—except for the soft hum of the mobile spinning slowly above the crib. gold stars turned, catching the light.
and in that moment, just one suspended, breathless moment, everything was still.
MDNI !! hey peeps!! just so you know, i will be making another list of shorter fics ( under 1k ) and a haechan smau masterlist!! lmk if youre interested, will also keep on adding to this list btw!!
red velvet hearts. - @ choerrypuffs - 7.7k
lights out , lights out pt2 - @ hhaechansmoless - 17.8k + 15.8k
if i lose my mind, if i lose my mind 2 - @ slightlymore - 14.5k + 11k
caramel haechan masterlist - @ mejaemin
love virus , love virus 2 - @ twilightau - 7.6k + 5.6k
love jones , love jones 2 - @ lisired - 12.4k + 13.1k
would you film my s*x tape? - @ sweetiechenle
the boy is mine - @ domjaehyun - 101k ( 6 parts )
indica dreams - @ hazyhae - 11.7k
what the puck! - @ choerrypuffs - 11.6k
romancing - @ jenoloqy - 23.7k
risking it all , risking it all pt2 - @ kiszjuli -15.3k + 7.4k
settle down , settle down pt2 , settle down pt3 - @ hyuckmov - 22k + 18k + 11k
two rules one problem - @ liliansun - 14.8k
eight letters - @ strwbbit - 11.8k
not a big deal - @ haeiheart - 3.8k
wanna bet? - @ ilovedinodino - 15.9k
birthday mayhem - @ nebularsung - 7.5k
under the influence - @ domjaehyun - 11.6k
tease - @ hyuckiefluff - 5.8k
call d - @ neocitylights - 12k
m.i.l.f (make it last forever) - @ ncteez - 18.9k
learning languages - @ tonicandjins - 18.5k
fast times - @ choerrypuffs - 7.6k
can we love - @ heartseungs-archive - 2.5k
carpe diem - @ kiachiako - 5.1k
lucky strike - @ heartseungs-archive - 2.3k
tan lines and hushed nights - @ ch3rryd0ll - 6k
dance to this - @ heartseungs-archive - 3.8k
sugar, butter, & the royal crown - @ haechwrites - 17.1k
SYNOPSIS: Lee Jeno is in desperate need of release. The problem is he’s not exactly stuck on the whole groupie concept, that’s where you come in. His bartender friend who’s a struggling writer that’s in need of some real inspiration. The suggestion is simple, friends with benefits. The only catch is, don’t fall in love, which should be easy considering the two of you have no intention of ever falling in love anyway.
WORD COUNT: 28k
WARNINGS: humor, fluff, angst (if you squint), smut (MDNI), public sex (does in a car count), unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), biting, fingering, oral (f!recieving), light sub/dom play, cum eating, mutual masterbation, these two are very dense, they’re also extremely silly
BEFORE YOU READ: reading the first story isn’t necessary but there are many appearances and references to things in the first one so to better understand read Francis Forever!
NOTES: I’m sooo sorry about the delay for this one but it’s here and instead of posting on friday i decided why not now! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing!!
explore the 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 here!
spotify playlist that helped inspire me while writing can be found here
Part One: Early Spring
Sugar, we’re going down
☆ 📚 ☆
You stood in the center of the familiar crowded office, your lip in between your teeth as a sort of calming method. It was complete silence safe for the ticking of the clock that crescendoed with every second, building up your anticipation.
It was half past three which meant that if you were lucky, you’d have time to arrive home for a quick celebration with your cat, Meowy, before getting ready for your shift later tonight. You were confident this time, there were only so many mistakes you could’ve made after about ten different overviews of the same work.
The cough along with the sound of glasses hitting the table was enough for you to concede that the read through was complete. You were about to speak when the cherry haired woman spoke.
“No.”
Your feet would’ve collapsed into themselves if it wasn’t for the chair in front of you that your hands grasped at for dear life. You were sure she could hear the squeak of your last bit of humanity slipping away.
“I must end it all,” your head shakes, refusing to meet the eyes of your friend, Shuhua.
She sighs, the scene in front of her reminiscent of the past few times you had asked her to read over your work. “Don’t be dramatic, get up.”
You stood up straight again, her soft nod a quiet way of telling you to take a seat. Ever since you were young you’d wanted to become a writer, and luckily enough working as a Bartender for one of the city's most frequented exclusive bars had its perks. You met Shuhua around the first month of working there, having built a friendship ever since she ordered a dirty martini. She was the owner of one of the biggest Publishing companies, and was very willing to help accomplish your dream.
Only that took way more effort than you ever thought possible. Shuhua was very confident in your work, the only problem was that she thought you weren’t being authentic enough. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying to, it’s just that sometimes work dragged on and took most of your energy for the day, and by the time you met the deadline, your work came out rushed in areas.
“Y/N,” Shuhua starts, your voice ringing out and cutting her off before she could continue.
“It’s the Amusement Park scene right? I was half asleep when I wrote it that morning and I should’ve read over it again before printing it out.” You spit out, words tangled together because unfortunately you were always one to grow chatty when nervous.
“That’s not the problem,” Shuhua answers flatly. Your brows furrow. “Chapter thirty two.”
You flushed red, of course you knew what part that was. Not exactly because of it being your own writing, you could forget your own name if it weren’t for your nametag, but because it was the scene you dreaded most when you went over the draft.
Smut scene, not exactly your forte.
“Y/N, I mean this with all uttermost respect, are you even trying?” She flips open the book onto the page in question. “He kisses me. Very nicely.” She reads the words you wrote aloud and you could feel yourself sinking into the seat with every next sentence.
“I mean seriously,” She tosses the book down once again, “Is there a reason your skills become equivalent to that of a six year old when you write a smut scene?”
“I’d be concerned if a six year old was writing that.”
“You know what I mean,” She sighs, “Look Y/N I mean this as a friend, but even more as a publisher, I know you can do better than this. The rest of the novel is proof of that.”
You smile at the compliment. That means she at least liked the majority of the story.
“Wipe that smile off of your face,” You frown again. “Tell me, what’s the problem? You can’t exactly have a smut book without any of the smut.”
It wasn’t that you weren’t trying to write smut, it had been the best way to navigate the built up emotions from both characters who seemingly hated each other before that, it was necessary. You hadn’t taken into account just how lacking you were in that department until you sat at four am, your computer brightness at full.
“The problem might be me,” You confess. “It’s not like I have much experience to base anything off of.”
Shuhua sighs, “No, that’s not your fault, some men don’t exactly offer the best services when it comes to getting off.” She meant that. It had been the topic of the first conversation you both shared after about three dirty martinis.
“Guess it doesn’t help that the closest I've been to touching a man’s body in a year is brushing hands with the DreamCafe cashier the other day.”
Shuhua’s gaze is pitiful, “Y/N, are you serious?” You nod. “God this is going to end up published five years from now if we keep up this pace.”
You purse your lips, not exactly knowing how to respond. Your list of experiences was about the size of a quick shopping list, and it wasn’t like you were against the idea of sex either, you just were a bit too busy to just go around looking for the first attractive man in your area. Most of the guys around were ugly too, and if they weren’t then they were clients at your workplace, which meant it was a no-go.
The last thing you needed was to bump into a one night stand asking for a shot of whiskey. Besides you’d been hit on enough at your job to know that most men were way too easy, and something about that just grossed you out. Your friend's eyes brighten, an idea taking place in her mind that forms into a smirk on her face.
“What?” You ask, looking around the room as if it wasn’t just the two of you in there.
“I say this with all of my heart,” she raises a brow, “if you want a good story, you have got to get laid.”
You chuckle nervously, standing up and wiping off your pants. “No thank you!”
“Nope Y/N I’m serious,” She raises her voice slightly, she always did this with other clients but when it was directed to you it was a bit scary. “Consider it. It might get your creative juices flowing.”
“I don’t really want to think about any juices right now.”
Shuhua rolls her eyes, picking up your paper and reaching forward to pass it to you. “You have amazing skill Y/N, I am not at all doubtful of that, but I think that this could help you sort things out better. If you don’t want to of course you don’t have to, but if that’s the case then I’d consider publishing this without the smut scenes.”
You were barely out of the door when you began contemplating her suggestion. The smut scene was necessary. There was zero way that you were going to publish the book without it, it would feel like you gave up if you did.
You groaned loudly, the stares from the workers occupying the same elevator going unfazed with how deep in thought you were. Maybe Shuhua was right? Maybe hooking up with someone would make things easier for you as a writer. You always get the best inspiration when you force yourself to explore new things.
The only issue now was who would be your pick? The last thing you needed was to join a dating app and end up meeting a serial killer, you saw that in a movie once. Time felt like a ticking bomb now. If you wanted this book done by the end of the year, you had to do something about your problem, and you had to do it immediately.
☆ 🎸☆
The subtle bed squeaks and giggles were something Jeno usually had zero problem sleeping through, after all for a good few years he was the main person causing those noises. Countless hookups and one night stands he brought back to the shared apartment that he thought didn’t matter much anyway because the other guys were just as loud as he was, except for Jisung and Mark, and because it’s not like any of the girls they saw were here to stay.
He was regretful now as he laid in bed, his pillow squeezed tight around his ears to try and tune out the rest of the world from outside his bedroom door. Now the problem was simple, he was growing a bit more frustrated the past weeks. The rise of Oblivion was still subtle, but he wasn’t a stranger to the city anymore.
And most would assume that was the best part of their growing fame but really it was the opposite. Jeno never really got the whole Groupie thing, sure he tried it a few times but really revisiting the same face every night wasn’t his style. Usually because it ended up causing assumptions to be made. Like your balls deep in a girl four times out of a week and suddenly she thinks that means that she can stay over and make you dinner, or call you baby and make arrangements to introduce you to her friends.
Jeno shuddered, the memory of Lia making him cringe. He had been in a dry spell ever since. It wasn’t so bad at first, Jeno was an introvert by nature so unless he was tagging along with Donghyuck and Jaemin at their club escapes he was pretty content staying home and hoping on league. But lately he felt like he was really going to go insane, it didn’t help that every other night there were enough sounds he was shocked there hadn’t been any noise complaints.
Jaemin had suggested he just cave in, let the groupies run their course explaining that not all of them really searched for something more. Jeno declined. Jaemin wasn’t much of a convincing person when he had a stalker problem not even three months ago.
But now as he hopes that the pillow on his face can cut off enough of the oxygen in his body to have him pass out for at least a couple of hours so he wouldn’t have to hear the monstrosities happening outside, he thinks maybe it would’ve been better if he did have a hookup he could meet up with right about now just to save his eardrums.
He decided for the next best option. Going on a walk and making his grand escape hopefully before the funny business got any louder. He shoved off the pillow, pulling up his phone to check the time. Right on schedule.
Jeno tried to open and close the door quietly enough to make his presence unknown, but unfortunately the great squeak from the hinges had betrayed him. Causing both his friend, Jisung, and Jisung’s girlfriend to shoot up from where they sat very comfortably on one another on the couch, in a position that made Jeno wish his vision was worse than it already was.
“I- Jeno! When did you get here?” Jisung stuttered, his cheeks growing red by the second.
“Never left,” Jeno shrugged, “sup Darling.”
The girl only smiled tightly, refusing to meet his eyes after he’d caught the two in a compromising position. Jisung scowled, not a fan of how popular the nickname had become within the group of guys since he’s the one that created it in the first place. There was no use in arguing against it now though, not when their fans had already began to implement the nickname themselves.
“Y’know if you’re going to fuck it would probably be better not to on the couch, it’s kind of a general rule.” One that Jeno could attest to never breaking.
“We weren’t going to–“ Jisung’s brows furrowed in annoyance? It was always so easy to tease the guy. He took a breath instead, ignoring the obvious bait. “It’s four pm, you do understand that right?”
“Yep,” Jeno starts, “Late night.”
Usually Late Night was code for a more rated R style of living. Now poor loser Jeno used the term for what were nights of binge watching Formula One Race highlights and an occasional jackoff session when he really couldn’t sleep. What? It was scientifically proven that release made for better sleep quality.
Darling chose to finally speak then, “Tomorrow you should post a picture or something, fans are wondering what their favorite drummer has been up to.”
He cringed, not too sure just how much fans would be interested in his new super boring lifestyle. “Yeah sure, i’ll get to that.” He could probably just take some pictures today while he’s out running to post for later. “Everyone else out?”
Jisung nods, his attention on the TV as he scrolls through what shows and movies were suggested. “I think Mark went to go help his mom back home today and Jaemin tagged along.”
“He’s not trying to get into Mark’s noonas pants anymore right?”
In Jeno’s humble opinion as a twenty five year old, engagement at twenty six seemed pretty soon but to each their own. No seriously, because his parents themselves were pretty adamant on him finding a potential girlfriend and or wife soon.
He shakes off the thought, “Hyuck?”
“Who knows, the guy has been way too secretive lately for someone who loves to be in everyone else’s business.”
“You’re still mad he tried joining us on our first date?” Darling reached forward tugging on Jisung’s cheek, a smile on full display.
Jisung rolled his eyes, “Tried is an understatement, he literally sat at the table right next to us.”
Darling only cooed at him, the two becoming lost in their own little world of smiles and extreme public display of affection. Jeno held back a groan of annoyance, instead choosing peace. Since it was late that at least meant that he had time to stop by the bar, he was pretty sure you were scheduled to work today also so why not make things better by venting all of his problems with a couple of drinks in between.
“I’m going out,” He announced to nobody apparently since neither one of them spared him short of a glance.
Apparently tonight was an exception to an empty club, what with being a Thursday. He’d made an entrance and beelined directly to the bar, which was a bit busier than he usually found it.
You were busy serving up someone’s drink to notice him, a man who stared at you a bit longer than some may deem normal. It wasn’t long until you slid over a glass to the man, who took it with a small glint in his eye and offered up a piece of paper before whispering to you and walking away.
“What’s that about?” Jeno asked curiously, though he was sure he knew exactly what it was about.
You barely flinched, having already noticed his presence before he spoke. “Number,” You groaned before throwing it into the trash, “Why are all of these rich folks so greedy. I work for tips not for numbers.”
Jeno laughs, “Oh I'm sure he wanted to give you a tip alright.”
You deadpanned, already concocting his drink of choice, “You’re here early.”
“Couldn’t exactly get anything else done,” He smiled sweetly in thanks as you slid over the glass.
You giggled, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Donghyuck?”
“Worse, Jisung.”
That got your attention, the shock in your face masked by your hand coming up to stop yourself from laughing. “Wait really?”
“Unfortunately,” Jeno sighs, “It seems he’s been getting more action than me nowadays.”
Your brows furrow, “Is Lee Jeno in a dry spell?”
“The worst kind,” He groaned, downing the rest of the drink with a quick chug. “I mean seriously, you know how tired my wrist is?”
You laugh, “Whatever happened with Lia?”
Jeno let out another sigh, “Didn’t last long at all. None of them do, at some point they think that they’ll get a little love story when I make it very clear from the start that i’m in no way looking for anything like that. Doesn’t help that because of Jisung and Darling, people assume the rest of us are looking for that.”
“Ah yes,” You slide over another serving you must’ve mixed while he started his rant. “Who would dare assume a twenty five year old wants to settle down.”
“I’m serious,” You chuckle, proceeding to make another person drink while he continues to rant. “It’s like no matter how up front I am about only wanting casual sex people expect to change my mind. It’s exhausting.”
“Tell me about it,” You sigh, “The persistence of some men around here really does give me the creeps. The other day I had to ask Heejin to walk me to my car cause this guy kept saying he would see me after my shift.”
Jeno frowns in concern, “You could’ve called me to pick you up.”
You shrug it off, “It was late anyway, and I had things to take care of.”
“Ah,” Jeno laughs, “You’re still working on that porno.”
“Will you shut up?” You look around frightened that anyone overheard him, lucky for you the crowd had died down.
“Have a drink with me?”
You raise a brow. “I’m on the clock.”
“Then after.” Jeno replies, taking another sip from his glass.
“I’m not drinking that fuck ass poison you sip on.”
He holds back a laugh, “You forget you’re the one who invented it.”
The memory springs to life, the first time you’d practiced mixing drinks for your bartender certification and Jeno being your willing subject. In his defense, he could handle his liquor quite a bit, and being young and broke meant that he’d take any ounce of free alcohol necessary.
You had mixed the worst kinds of alcohols together, whiskeys and tequila stirred into a concoction that somehow looked purple. Jeno had taken a careful sip, not before asking you just how safe it was, and though it must’ve been the most awful thing he’d ever tasted he couldn’t help but give you a shaky thumbs up. You’d been so excited to make your own recipe, and he was in no way going to burst your bubble.
It became his drink of choice since then, and despite the fact that you had tried it for the first time a year ago and realized just how disgusting it was, he continued to order it anyway. Maybe it grew on him, or maybe he just happened to succumb to Stockholm syndrome. Nevertheless, it was still his first choice.
“Yeah and i’ve since then improved, thank you very much,” You wring out a rag to clean up the table where some drunk had spilled a bit of his beer on the counter.
Jeno hums, “So then why don’t you prove it to me? Drinks later?”
You roll your eyes, never really able to say no to him. “If you can wait a couple of more hours.”
He nods, his eye smile mimicking that of a crescent moon. “Done.”
☆ 📚 ☆
Your shift went by quicker once Jeno had stopped by. Most of the drinks for the rest of the night were easy shots of whiskey that you served for the other customers besides him since you’d planned on drinking together. And it was nice, being able to make a bit of casual conversation in between working. It was always a relief when Jeno visited, even if that meant he teased you out loud a few times even in front of customers.
Luckily for him, you spared him a beating because he promised to buy your favorite. Somaek.
“I still remember when you would gag every time I ordered a beer,” Jeno jokes, poking at the last piece of fried chicken from the take out you guys had picked up before arriving at your own place.
You laughed, louder than you had to because alcohol always had a way of making you giggle over any and everything. “I told you, when you mix Soju you can’t taste the gross beer flavor.”
Jeno hums, smiling at you as you devoured the chicken like it was the last meal on earth. His smile quickly vanished when he got a notification on his phone, the brightness only peeking for a second before he clicked his phone off.
“Who is it?”
“Lia,” Jeno groans, “she wants to know if i’d be down to meet up.” You hum, taking a last swig of your glass of somaek. “The worst part is if I were even slightly more tipsy, I think I would’ve caved in.
“You’re insane,” You laugh, the man only meeting your eyes with a look of desperation.
“Yeah unfortunately.”
You pause for a moment, your mind trying to fight against oversharing because when you were about two drinks in you got to that point. Ultimately you lost the internal battle.
“I’m not having too good of luck in that department either,” You match Jeno’s energy with a sigh. “What makes it worse is that Shuhua says I gotta get laid cause it’s making my book bland.”
He coughs, “What?”
“Yeah,” You continue. “Don’t laugh but I've been really struggling writing a few of the more.. intense scenes. I’m really trying though, it’s just the idea of sex with a random stranger really is weirding me out. Then there’s the deadline, I wanted to have this done by the end of the year but Shuhua’s convinced that unless I get hands on inspiration then i’m totally fucked. Not literally but figuratively—“
“Wait wait wait,” Jeno interrupts you. “You’re telling me Shuhua told you to find somebody to fuck or kiss the book deal goodbye?”
“No? She said I could always just take out any sex scenes.”
Jeno snaps his fingers then, raising his glass to his lips. “But you’re perverted and refuse to.”
You frown, “I’m not perverted! Last I checked i’m not some freak who got hard on a carnival ride.” The memory of Disco pang pang was horrifying at the time it happened, now it was funny to look back on. Especially when you used it against him.
Jeno flushes red, “I told you to stop with that already! I wasn’t hard, it was my phone in my pocket.”
“Yeah sure thing neno,” You winked, pouring yourself another two to three ratio of soju and beer, Jeno’s hand subtly moving to help steady the glass as you poured the shot of soju into it.
“You’re irritating,” He rolled his eyes, though you could tell by the small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth that he was far from being angry at all. It’s just the way the two of you teased one another.
“And you,” you raise your glass like you were making a toast. “need to get laid.”
He lets out a dry chuckle, raising his own drink to clink yours. “Can’t argue with that.”
As you sip down the now room temperature beer, the bitter taste hardly effective since you were now tipsy enough you could hardly taste alcohol, an idea hit you straight on like a bus. You eyed the man in front of you, him being completely clueless to how you were observing him like he was a science experiment.
He was busy calling out meowy’s name with a few psst psst in between to get her to stop playing hard to get and let him pet her. By the time he set your cat onto his lap your mouth spoke before your brain could stop it.
“We should have sex!”
Jeno’s eyes widened tenfold, and because of how you’d forgotten to adjust your volume before speaking, meowy became startled and ran straight out of the living room space and into your bedroom.
His silence lasted long enough for you, despite the cloudy mind, to understand just how bizarre the suggestion was without any explanation. So you gave him just that.
“Think about it neno,” The usage of the childish pet name in this topic of discussion caused you to slightly cringe. “You need to get laid because your brain refuses to function without direct stimulation to your– thing.” You emphasized the word by jerking your hand forward in the direction of his crotch. “And I need to get laid so I can get inspiration for my book!”
The man was too stunned to speak, his hands coming up to his face to rub at his eyes like this was a dream. Unfortunately for him, it was not. “You can’t be serious.” He finally speaks.
You nod, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know y/n maybe because i’m your best friend and I don't think we’ve ever seen each other in that way?”
Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “There’s no romance to this at all. Sure attraction plays a subtle part in this but it’s mostly about trust.” He sits still for a moment, pondering.
“We don’t have to, it was just a suggestion.”
You say it as if the words that left your mouth weren’t just a ticking time bomb in Jeno’s poor mind. You took another swig of your drink, falling into the same ordinary rhythm the two of you had from earlier.
Jeno speaks up barely holding in a cough when he asks, “Trust?”
You nod again, “I don’t really want to just sleep with just any guy, most of them don’t even know how to please a woman let alone charm them. I need inspiration, not regrets.”
Jeno smiles at that, “So you’re saying I know how to please women?”
Instead of falling into his bait you offer a shrug, "I've heard word, why? You saying what I heard is wrong?”
He chuckles lightly ignoring your dig, “Not at all. Just taking precaution. Wouldn’t want you to end up like Lia.”
You suck your teeth in annoyance, “You wouldn’t have to worry about anything, it’s not like it would change anything.”
“Y/N,” He calls your name again. Only this time there’s no teasing, no mocking. “You do realize that sex can change a lot of things for some people.” He speaks honestly, most of it coming from experience of countless horror hookup stories you’d heard first hand time and time again. “I trust you a lot, and i’m not against the idea but I don’t want things to ever get weird for either of us,” Jeno sighs. “The last thing I want is to make things complicated.”
“Well then it’s a good thing that none of us are looking for anything more than sex.” You reply directly. “The best part is it shouldn’t be awkward at all, we know each other well enough.”
Jeno takes a moment, a deep breath of consideration while you’re busy swirling your glass around.
“Okay,” He answers, your gaze falling over to him in an instant. “We can talk more about this later then, when you’re not drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He hums, “How many fingers?” He asks as innocent as ever, contradictory to his middle finger standing straight and tall in your face.
“One,” You answer, shoving his hand away. “and you can shove it up your ass, asshole.”
He smirks, “According to our earlier conversation you’d probably prefer it up yours.”
“Motherfucker—“
“I’m serious though Y/N, we can talk more about this later.”
You frown. “Fine,” You stand up from where you sat on the floor, “then i’m going to bed.”
“Go ahead,” He says it like it’s his own house. “I’ll clean this up.”
“Sure,” You reply, stretching your arms and legs before heading for your bedroom. “Use the spare by the way, don’t go home this late.”
You were able to afford an apartment with a spare bedroom, one that Jeno often occupied. Especially these days with how many people were staying in the band’s shared apartment these days.
“Yeah yeah, make sure not to sleep on your back, the last thing I want to wake up to is you dead from choking on your own vomit.”
“Don’t say things like that!” You shout in disgust, earning a laugh from him.
“Goodnight neno.”
“Night, Princess.”
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno always knew you were unpredictable, but this moment really took the cake.
He had cleaned up your apartment, figuring that the more he kept his mind occupied the less he had to actually overthink the arrangement you had suggested.
On one hand, the message was clear. You both got along so well because of how similar the two of you viewed the world. Hookups were nothing more than a sense of relief for you both, so as much as he loved to tease, he knew that there really was nothing to worry about. The other hand was complicated because for some reason he began to over analyze everything.
How would this work? Would the act itself be awkward? Would this ruin your friendship? Is this a one and done deal?
There were too many variables to consider, and Jeno wasn’t sure how this would go about if you weren’t just talking out of your drunk mind and really meant it. He took a deep breath as he stared into the mirror in your bathroom, setting down the toothbrush he had there because of course he had his own.
And as he laid in the spare bedroom, the subtle scent of your lavender sheets filling his brain, he chose to do what was either going to be the worst mistake in his life, or the best.
Really though, what was the worst thing that could happen? The both of you have sex and hate it?
“I stand by what I said,” You mumbled over the spoon in your mouth. “I think it could do us both good.”
Jeno had barely gotten the sentence out when you brought up the question again, this time over breakfast without any alcohol in your system to use as a cushion in case Jeno declined. Though Jeno wasn’t too sure you needed it anyway.
You were firm with your question, not in a way that made him feel like he had to agree but instead as if it was a simple request such as, What should we have for dinner? and not Do you want to have casual sex?
“You don’t have to agree with me, I can always figure out a solution to my own problems and I'm sure you’d have zero problems in that department either.” You added, looking over his arms that were pretty distracting. He was wearing a sleeveless tank top, the shirt of his he left with a pile of clothing, largely consisting of hoodies you had borrowed and forgot to give back, and clothes he kept at your place for the times he would stay over.
The issue was the opposite. Jeno has had many problems in that department lately.
“Okay,” Jeno begins, clearing his throat. You reacted with wide eyes. “Yeah sure why not?”
You smile happily, as if he’d surprised you with an all paid trip to the Bahamas or something. “Jeno, you have no idea how much this is going to help me!”
He frowns, surely you couldn’t be that inexperienced. The two of you had countless stories shared. You especially had a habit of rambling about.
“Wait,” You hop out of your seat. “We need to make a list of rules!” Before Jeno can comment you’re already running to your room, returning slightly breathless with a pen and paper in hand.
You set it down on the table slowly beginning to move the pen drawing line after line, your writing was surprisingly messy for someone who was an author. Jeno didn’t comment on it though, he doesn’t have time when you’re already pushing him further down the dining bench, scooting closer to him as you set down the paper that now reads.
Rules for our arrangement.
“What’s this?” Jeno asks, earning a bored look from you that translates to, are you really asking?
“Rules, I think it’ll be best so we can note our boundaries before just hopping into things.” Your smile is tight but genuine, which only makes Jeno realize just how nervous you really are. You weren’t the type to show your fears, but you were always one to be cut and clear about anything else you felt.
Jeno nods along, smiling softly in hopes that it’ll help you feel less awkward. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”
You smile widely, this time with full fledged confidence. “I’m glad you asked. So for starters, I think it’s best we start this arrangement with a few notes on what we are okay with and things we aren’t okay with.”
“Like?” Jeno asks before taking a sip of water out of his cup.
“Like, Anal!” Jeno chokes on the beverage, coughing repeatedly to regain composure. His scene doesn’t alarm you much, so you press further. “I don’t ever want anything up there.” You state flatly.
“Sure,” He nods, having cleared his throat and this time taking a sip to fully clear out his throat. “it’s not really my thing either.”
“Great.” You write down the first rule, Sex will only involve things the both of us are okay with. And in parenthesis: No Anal.
“Is there anything you wouldn’t want to do?” You question him. Jeno tries to think, it’s a bit harder to think about when you’re put on the spot. There’s nothing he’s too uncomfortable with that he wouldn’t just say in the moment, so he opts for the obvious answer.
“No Anal.”
You let out a laugh, “Great I guess we're both on the same page then.”
This felt almost ridiculous, but as long as you were happy he wasn’t going to question much. “Another thing, I need your permission to allow all of our uh– experiences to be used as inspiration for my novel.”
“I know Y/N trust me i’m cool with it.”
“Okay because the last thing i’d want is for you to be offended or upset if I write something you disagree with.”
Jeno shook his head, “Nothing to be ashamed of, I have quite the reputation i’ve upkept.”
You scowled, his cocky attitude baiting your reaction. “Okay, but don’t be offended when I make sure to add your size.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I can show you now if you’d like.” Jeno replies mockingly, reaching for his shorts.
You reach to stop his hand, “Let’s keep it in your pants at least a little while longer.” He shrugs, his arms folding around his waist as you write.
“Are there any rules you want to add?”
Jeno ponders for a moment. There wasn’t much he thought he could add with all seriousness. The situation itself was not very serious on his part, sleeping with a close friend all because he couldn't find a regular hookup who didn’t want dinner dates and eventual marriage? He felt pretty ridiculous, but since you had been the one to suggest it, it at least kept him from feeling like a weirdo.
There was one thing he needed as a rule, something that would give him peace of mind going into this arrangement.
“We have to separate our sex life and our friendship.” He spoke after some time. You had met his eyes with a brow raised.
“I’m sure that’ll be a bit difficult considering we’re going to be friends who fuck.” You joke.
He lets out a small chuckle, before adding with complete sincerity. “I think it’s important that we keep both our sexual life and our friendship separate. There’s no reason to let any of it get mumbled and jumbled, that's why friends with benefits never work.”
“Right,” You breathe out. “So then you’d prefer?”
“I’d prefer that no matter what happens, things won’t ever change. No matter what. Even if we stop sleeping together, we need to remain friends.”
It wasn’t just a request, what he wanted was a promise. One on paper that was needed in the rare case that everything went to shit. He wouldn’t be able to agree to it at all if that wasn’t agreed upon.
You met his eyes, a reassuring smile on your face. “Then if at any point any one of us want out,” You scribble down the rest in handwriting he could hardly understand. “or for any other reason, we talk to each other.”
The room was met with silence as you finished writing down everything, reading it over like it was one of the ten commandments until the two of you had it ingrained in your brains.
The quietness only broke when Jeno laughed aloud after teasing you by moving his thumb away from the ink you had to stamp his fingerprint on the paper. All uneasiness or anxieties vanished just like that, the two of you rebooting back into your playful dynamic.
“There!” You exclaimed happily once Jeno gave in and allowed you to bring his red stamped finger onto the paper.
Jeno hardly had time to admire you, his phone alarm going off reminding him of the Band’s practice today. He locked his phone, the blasting sound coming to a quick halt in an instant.
“I have to go now.” Jeno stood up from the seat, sliding across the floor easily even while you were still sitting.
“Wait!” You stuttered, a blush reaching your face as all nervousness came back in full force. “Uh. When did you want to start? Y’know.. doing.. stuff.”
Jeno had to use every fiber of his being to resist making fun of you. “Whenever you want to.”
You nodded. “Then how about tomorrow? I don’t have work so we could maybe, I don't know, go out?”
Yeah, Jeno really had to use the last of his restraint. He chose to laugh instead, “You trying to ask me out on a date?”
You scowled, “I’m just trying to set the mood.”
“Yeah i’m not sure that’s how friends with benefits really works,” He says too casually for someone who has never been in that arrangement until now.
“Right.” You reply.
“Y/N,” he calls out. “You can just call whenever you want to.”
He hopes the implication is clear.
“Sure, you too.”
With the way you look at him he knows that you understood. There’s a quick goodbye before Jeno is out the door. He hopes the guys don’t mind his slight tardiness, though if he’s serious almost all of the group had a problem being late to practice.
He feels a bit of relief, the two of you having found solutions to your growing problems. Well, at least a bit of his growing problems, but it wasn’t something he’d like to dwell on at the moment.
There wasn’t much anxiety, at least on his part, more so the awkwardness radiating off of you not knowing how to start but he was sure that the feeling would shrink with time. If he weren’t booked and busy with practice at the moment, he would’ve probably tried easing your embarrassment using a different method. That was mostly him thinking with his dick, which nobody could blame him for, it had been a pretty hard couple of months.
All in all, Jeno couldn’t feel more confident. It was a win-win situation, and since the both of you had agreed and talked everything over he was sure that nothing would go wrong.
☆ 📚 ☆
The moment Jeno had left your home, you let out a deep sigh.
To be completely honest, you had woken up this morning pulling the hair from your head as memories flooded your mind. You weren’t even sure you had wanted to step out of your bedroom hearing the man lurk around the place from behind the door.
You debated resting until he finally gave up and left, but the growl your tummy had let out at the smell of everything delicious wafting into your room had caused you to cave in.
On the bright side, as much as you were stupid and impulsive, he’d actually agreed. It saved you the embarrassment of being rejected, not to brag but that wasn’t something you were accustomed to experiencing. And now all of it was hitting you, at full force.
Friends with benefits.
You genuinely had zero clue just how that worked, did this mean that now at any time either one of you could just call on one another like a booty call? You let out a sigh, Meowy let out a meow in response, like she was asking where the man had gone.
You weren’t quite sure that you made the best decision, but only time would tell. For now you could feel ease creeping up your spine, this would solve one problem for now and in the worst case scenario, it would probably end in bad sex.
It was a chance you were more than willing to make.
There was nothing that could’ve mentally prepared you for heading into this type of arrangement. And no it wasn’t the friendship thing, it was not knowing just how to jump start into sex without looking insane.
The two of you sat in your living room, barely any distance between the two of you where you lay on the floor, watching the TV. Which was ironically out of the norm when the two of you were usually cuddling during your movie marathons. Everything felt off, even the movie playing on the TV that truthfully you randomly picked and now realized was definitely not something you were rating higher than one star on Letterboxd later.
Meowy had made herself a bit too comfortable with Jeno. Lying on his lap like nothing mattered in the world more than his hands petting her. Ridiculously enough, you felt a short wave of envy, shoving that feeling down immediately because in what world would you be jealous of your cat for living carelessly.
You were sure it had been almost an hour of just sitting next to each other, not a single one of you moving a single bone in your body. You were pretty sure he was waiting for a signal, but every time you had the nerve to try, you shrank in on yourself in an instant, overthinking everything. It was like the moment had long passed, that was until the worst thing imaginable happened.
There were moans blaring out of the TV, the movie having shifted from its weird cultish horror vibe into a porno. Meowy wasn’t a fan of the shift in volume, hopping off of your friend and walking away into her cat bed. You cursed silently, of course your cat would leave you to fend for yourself.
The uncomfortable silence filled the room, safe for the excruciatingly long sex scene playing out in front of you that felt like it was mocking you. You were suddenly thankful the room was dim enough that your redness would go unseen.
“Are you trying to subliminally tell me something?” Jeno whispered, his voice too close to your ear that only made you blush harder.
You refused to meet his gaze, if you did then you’d lose the last of your dignity. For a moment you weren’t sure how to reply, deciding to use all of your strength to sound as confident as ever. “If I was then would that finally get the ball rolling?”
He chuckled, his hand suddenly slipping around your waist. “Is that what you were waiting for?”
There were always times where the two of you would have a conversation and he’d allow his cocky nature to slip out. This time felt different though, it was like the room shifted with his tone.
“Yes.”
His eyes widened at your response, a slight falter from not having expected you to be so honest. “Then I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” He answers truthfully. His arms suddenly pull you closer to sit on his lap. The same arms that he left on full display with his sleeveless shirt, it really didn’t make things any easier for you. You’d been making subtle glances at them hoping he was into manhandling, which seems now you were right.
“How should I make it up to you?” He tilts your chin up with his fingers. Your faces are only inches apart. Damn he was good at this. You were aware of his game, you’d seen it play out many times in person. But why did it suddenly feel so different when it was directed at you? You suck in a breath, his thumb tracing the side of your stomach louder than the long forgotten movie playing behind you.
“Y/N,” He calls your name. “We don’t have to do anything.” His voice is soft and reassuring, only adding fuel into the growing heat.
“I want to, it's just,” You frown, hoping you don’t sound ridiculous. “I don’t know how to start.”
He nods in understanding, his palm wrapping around your cheek. “Do you want me to lead?”
“Please.”
You were sure you came off a bit more desperate than you meant to, but with the way his hips suddenly shifted just a fraction gave you the feeling he wasn’t complaining.
“Okay.” His voice is featherlight, you could feel his breath quicken as he closes the distance between you. “Then is this okay?” He asks, his thumb still tracing over your body, now fixated on the lower curve of your back.
You barely manage to nod before he’s connecting his mouth onto yours, a short peck to feel out the action before fully engaging. If any of your worries still existed they were certainly gone now, tuned out by the heavy beating of your heart. You leaned forward this time, your lips meeting this time with much less hesitation.
Jeno brought his right hand up to cup your face, his left hand around your waist, the grip firm to hold you in place. His teeth bite into your bottom lip, pulling a tiny gasp from you just to slide his tongue over the skin. You take that as a challenge, meeting him with your own eagerness and sliding your own tongue into his to deepen the kiss.
He groans, his hips shifting you into a more comfortable position on him. You’re not sure how many seconds pass like that. You slightly grind against him, the simple peck from earlier turned into a full on makeout session. Your hands fondling his arms to keep yourself from losing all of your balance as it grows heated. And just as your chest begins to tighten with every breath of yours being stolen by him, he pulls away.
You take in a deep breath trying to steady yourself, his eyes meeting yours with a question. One that you already have an answer to.
“Bedroom.”
The word comes out rushed and whiny, earning a low chuckle from him before he lifts you up with him. You had of course made out with people before, most of that happening in your early college years but this time was different. Jeno had taken your breath away but with that all motor function too, you noticed it now as your feet felt way too light.
He must’ve picked up on it, instead lifting you into his arms like you weighed equivalent to a pillow to him, and heading straight towards your bedroom. “Neno–“ You squeaked out, caught off guard by his sudden action. You couldn’t see his face from how he was carrying you over his shoulder but you were sure he was giving his signature samoyed smile.
You were proved right a moment later as he steadily set you down onto your bed. “Tell me, Princess, just how many book drafts of yours played out like this?”
Your cheeks reddened, he was spot on with the question. Male lead plopping the Main Character onto the bed before pounding into her with zero warning. The only thing that was missing was the use of his belt as a restraint for the main character’s hands. As much as that sounded interesting though, it was a little too early to hop into something as complex as that. So for the meantime, this would do.
It must’ve been a rhetorical question, since he doesn’t give you time to answer before he's lifting your shirt up and off your body. You pull him in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth, your patience growing thin with every second building up. You let out a happy sound, one that he drinks up, one hand sliding against your back to unclasp your bra in a quick second.
You push him back, noting the messy hair and the way his chest is practically begging for air. “You are way too good at that.”
“What can I say, i’ve had some practice.” He replies, meeting your mouth for a deep but short kiss compared to the ones before. You get the memo and start removing your own bra, discarding it onto the floor. But as a simple minded woman who believes in equality, and seriously loves a nice chest even on a man, you lift his shirt up all the same, meeting your own pair of fabric somewhere you couldn’t care less about.
He detaches from your lips, his mouth leaving kisses around your neck before slowly making it down to your breasts. “Fuck, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined.”
“Have you imagined me in this position on multiple occasions?” You tease, not expecting an answer.
“Only since I had to leave you to go practice when we signed our lives away.”
“That was only a day ago.”
“Really? It felt way longer than that.” Your words catch in your throat with how close his breath is over your sensitive nipple, every nerve in your body on standby waiting for him to do something. Lucky you, he doesn’t leave you waiting any longer. His mouth connecting around your chest and sucking harsh enough to make you moan.
The pleasure is foreign to you, the only experience you had being your own hands pinching against your chest whenever you seeked pleasure by yourself. Other men had usually disregarded that part of your body at all, unless of course they used it to their own benefit, squeezing onto your chest as if it were their own personal stressball. With every lick to your nub it sent a jolt to your body, growing hotter.
You could barely keep your eyes open now, focusing all of your attention on keeping the noise down because it wasn’t like you owned the house, it was rented. Jeno’s hand snakes down again, this time sliding through the elastic waistband of your shorts, tracing the thin fabric of your panties slick with your arousal.
“Neno please,” You whine, your hips growing weak even to the slightest touch of his fingers against you, subconsciously trying to grind down on his hands.
He detaches from your lips, his gaze hazy while he meets yours. You can already feel the ache on your chest from the littered bruises he’s left forming. Jeno must be growing impatient too, because he’s pulling down your shorts at your plea in record breaking time.
“Lube?”
“The bottom drawer to the right.”
The loss of his touch feels like an eternity of hell until he’s back again. Your cunt clenching against nothing as his hand pushes your legs further apart. You have to give yourself a moment to calm your nerves, the sound of the bottle opening signaling them to come back at full force.
“Fuck baby,” Jeno starts. “We might not even need that much with how wet you are for me.”
As cocky as he sounds, it only fuels your fire. Fuck Jeno for living up to his expectations without even having fucked you yet. You already felt stupid enough.
He slides a finger through the lace fabric, shoving it to the side as his middle finger pushes through your folds, the bed talk stalling you for long enough to warm the lube he’d gathered onto his fingers. It worked well, your cunt squeezing around his finger from where he curled it up. His fingers were much thicker than yours, a feeling you hadn’t felt in quite a while because you’d been the one prepping yourself most of the time.
“Another one please,” You breathe out. His ringer finger pushes in next, filling you up more and causing another moan to push past your lips.
“You’re so tight,” He mutters, his eyes zoned in on the way your cunt sucks in his fingers. His hand is moving on its own then, dragging slowly out of you before pushing in with more force. You let out another whine, your thighs threatening to shut on instinct to which he pinches them.
You wince, caught off guard by the sudden sharp pain as he smoothes his finger over the spot. “Keep them open, be a good girl and do that for me.”
The nickname does something to you, call it a hidden praise kink you hadn’t even realized you had until now. Jeno’s fingers are moving with much more pace now, not enough to completely satisfy you but enough to have you seconds from begging for more. His mouth clashes against yours again, swallowing every low noise you make as his fingers scissor you apart, and when he finally adds the third finger you feel seconds away from snapping.
You accidentally bite down on his lip, a warm metallic taste meeting your mouth that you can’t help but to taste more of. Jeno has no issue with this, the thrust of his fingers getting more urgent than before, his tongue begging to taste more of his own blood mixed with the sugary taste you have from snacking on artificially flavored gummies.
“Fu–nghh— neno”
You’re close, and all it takes is one sharp thrust of his fingers curling right into the spot you needed him most to have you finishing. Your eyes rolling back with the very welcome feeling of your orgasm washing over you.
His fingers continue to move, dragging out your pleasure for as long as he could until you're wincing from the overstimulation to which he removed them, your cunt suddenly far too empty. You feel like your soul has been knocked out of your body, taking a few deep breaths to gather the last of your energy.
“Are you okay?”
The chuckle slips out of your lips before you can even stop it. “Dude you just made me cum from your fingers alone and you’re asking that?”
Jeno looks around, confused on how that’s a shocking revelation. “Yes?”
You sigh, “I’m okay, just need a moment.” You open your eyes, his large frame still holding your thighs apart in between you. You probably shouldn’t laugh at a moment like this, but he really looks just like an obedient puppy waiting for your next move.
He catches the smile on your face, his expression growing confused. “What?”
“Nothing, you just look really cute right now.”
He frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to look hot and sexy and so unresistable you can’t help but climb onto me?”
You shrug, “sure you look all of those things too.”
His frown deepens, he cups your hands with his own, holding them on either side of you, Not rough at all, if you wanted to you could move him off of you, but a part of you really liked the illusion of him pinning you down. Perhaps another time he’d really use all of his strength, now that idea sent another wave of arousal in between your legs.
Jeno catches on quickly, how can he not with the way you’re squirming around. “You like being manhandled?”
You don’t answer. You trace over his body instead, eyeing the very prominent bulge in his pants. Since your legs were free now you bring up your knee, rubbing it ever so slightly against him. He shutters at the contact.
“Neno,” You whisper his name like it was a prayer. “I think i’m ready for the next round.”
He lets out a short laugh, though there’s hardly any humor in his tone whatsoever. You take note of his ears, the faint pink from how badly he must’ve been holding back. If you were reading him correctly, that meant he was probably too close to snapping. You were thankful he was focused on your knee rubbing against him, cause if he saw your expression now it would’ve given yourself away.
He lets go of where he had your hands, giving you the opportunity to wrap them around him and feel up his muscles you’d been way too distracted earlier to fully admire.
“Fuck–“ He groans. The sound like music to your ears and further encouraging you to touch him. He pulls his shorts down slightly, revealing the waistband of his boxers, the print of his dick making your mouth water.
You’re already reaching forward, cupping him firmly. A wince sounding from his lips. “Can I?”
He nods. You hook down the fabric, his thick and needy cock slapping against him fully erect and flushed against him. You pump him twice, using your other hand to reach for the condom he’d grabbed earlier when he got the bottle of lube.
There was no going back after this, you did realize that as you rolled the condom down onto him. “You’re sure about this?” He asked one last time, his breathing heavy waiting for your answer to finally cave in.
“Never been more sure.” Within the next second you feel the stretch as he pushes into you, your cunt squeezing his thick girth inches at a time until your hips meet his own. He gives you enough time to adjust, kissing down the side of your shoulder to help calm your nerves.
It’s far from your first time, but this was nothing like any of the men you’d had before. His size fills you up in all of the ways you’d only thought possible in some kind of fairy tale.
The sound of your name being called makes you open your eyes that you hadn’t even realized were shut. You clench around him unintentionally, pulling a groan from his throat that only feeds your confidence. You could tell based off of how his arms tightened their hold around you, how wrecked he was.
“You can move.”
He wastes no time, setting a slow pace that somehow drives him directly to your sweet spot. He’s way less quieter than you’d assumed he’d be in bed, his noises low yet heavy, matching your moans as he continues to thrust inside you.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm approaching once more. And with how patient he’d been, it was like a prayer had been answered.
“Neno I- I’m—“
“I know baby me too,”
With an embarrassing amount of thrusts the two of you came undone together. His mouth landing on yours to capture the last of your screams as your pussy clenched around him with your release, triggering him to finish into the condom.
After a quick moment of the two of you registering everything, you can’t help but laugh, Jeno's wounded expression only causing you to laugh more.
“I’m sorry it’s just,” You catch your breath, stopping yourself from looking any more insane than you probably did now. “Fuck, those girls were really not lying.” His head tilted in confusion. “You really are big.”
He laughs then, "That's really nice and all but if you keep saying things like that I might have another problem.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’d just come once and was not quite ready for another round.
“What’s that saying? What’s one’s problem is another's solving?” You smirk.
He scoffs, pulling out of you with a swift action that makes you wince. “You could barely last one round, save it for next time.”
“Me?” You gasp. Jeno stands up already having discarded the condom in your trash. He’s reaching for his boxers from the ground to put on as some kind of shield. You were a bit disappointed, his size while soft was surprisingly just as impressive as it was when it was hard. “I came twice!”
He’s back then, a damp towel in his hand to clean around your sensitive thighs. “And you also scared the living shit out of me when you went limp after you came the second time.”
You roll your eyes, “Not my fault you fucked me dumb.”
He snorts, tossing the damp towel onto the ground as he lays back down beside you, pulling you close to his chest in what could be viewed to some as intimate, but to you two was normal behavior.
“Ew you’re gross and sweaty!”
He hums, “So are you.”
You groan, “Release me you freak.”
“Aftercare is highly recommended after any heavy sex session, just lie with me for a bit, okay?”
“I’d argue it could’ve been heavier,” You mumble, succumbing to his hold around you.
“Next time,” His voice is light, leaving you with a strange sense of peace. You couldn’t help but stare now. With his eyes shut you could observe him closer than ever before. The soft lips of his that had been on you multiple different times tonight, red and bruised from the makeout session you had earlier.
You squeeze an arm out of his hold, raising your fingers to trace over the small bite on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry I bit you.”
“Don’t be,” He sounded dazed, like he was seconds away from falling asleep. “If I had a problem then I would’ve stopped you.”
“Oh so you are a freak!” He hums, not denying it. “Oh my god you are, aren't you! No wonder those girls had zero plans on letting you go.”
He opens his eyes then, meeting you with a bored look. “I wouldn’t be talking if I were you, aren’t you the one who was seconds from coming just from me pinning you down?”
“What?” Your jaw drops. “That’s so untrue! This is defamation!”
He shuts his eyes again, seemingly ignoring your remarks yet keeping a smile on his face the entire time.
“I could sue you! I’d take that drumset from you in a second.”
“Then would you take my job too?” He replies mockingly.
“Hey I could! The guys really happen to like me, you know I think if I talked it out with them we could work something out.”
He hums, “Then I guess i’d have to learn how to make some drinks and fill in for you?”
“I think bartender Jeno would suit you well.”
“Jeno? But what happened to Neno?” You regret even speaking to him instead of just playing dead after sex the second he brings up the nickname.
You choose instead to turn your cheek to him with a pout. “You really love yourself some pillow talk.”
“I’m not the one who started it.”
“I wasn't pillow talking with you I was threatening you.” You retort. “You’re always so full of yourself you know not everyone is trying to bed you, right?”
He laughs, “Did I not just bed you?”
“Ah but that doesn’t count!”
You’re both laughing then, every single ounce of regret fading away. You were silly to ever think that things could change between you two, and this was proof enough that sex didn’t necessarily mean everything would be different between the two of you.
If you could flick off every movie and novel for overdoing the trope you would right now. Because as you laid next to Jeno you realized one thing, it would take more than just one hookup to erase the history you had both built together.
Part Two:
Dare
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno was in no way secretive, but he also wasn’t the type to tell just everyone every single activity he found himself doing daily. He was quite the opposite to Donghyuck in that way. Where the lead singer acted as if he would die if he wasn’t in the loop twenty four seven, Jeno kept most things lowkey.
But there was one issue with that.
“Late for the third practice in a row,” Donghyuck popped out of seemingly nowhere, trailing behind Jeno as he made his way over to the couch to set down his bag.
“Don’t know what you mean, Jisung isn’t here yet either.”
“Thats because the dude is probably getting his dick wet right now,” Jeno scowls at the idea, “You, have been getting zero action.”
“You don’t know what I do in my free time.”
“I know you’ve racked ten hours a day on valorant all last month,” Donghyuck hums, tilting his head like he had discovered groundbreaking information.
Jeno sighs. “You’ve been in my room.”
“I told you, your controller runs smoother than mine.”
“So then grab it and leave, why are you snooping?” Mark tunes in from where he’s standing, ironically enough, tuning his own guitar.
“Because JenJen has been out way more than he usually is, and I know he’s not at any bars or clubs because I've been at all of them.”
“Ever considered he was avoiding you?” Jaemin smirks.
“Well no, that's unlike him.”
“I’m still here, y'know." Jeno shakes his head, nodding over at Mark in a quick apology. “Sorry, time went by quicker than I’d thought.”
It was the truth after all. He had made it very clear to you that he ran a tight schedule today, one that miraculously worked out in your favor considering how easy it was for Jeno to give into your whiny pleas. Especially when they were all he could hear with your hands in his hair roughly tugging as he ate you out slowly. It didn’t take long for you to finish on his tongue, it did however end with a quickie that lasted a bit longer than it should’ve.
“Don’t worry about it. Five minutes means nothing when you compare it to,” Mark checks his watch, the sound of the door twisting open. The creaky door revealed Jisung, who looked too sweaty for someone who drove himself here. “Ten.”
“I’m sorry I’m late I was—“
“Nobody wants to hear about your sex life.”
“I do.”
Jaemin winks at Jisung, the other frowning. Jeno would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that if he made a single wrong move all attention would be directed to him. He moves away from the group slowly, hoping they’re too busy drilling the youngest to notice him slipping by.
Unfortunately, that's not the case. “You alright man? I feel like the only times I ever see you is when we’re practicing.”
Jeno stops in his tracks, Mark standing before him with a slightly worried look on his face. Mark was a worrier. He didn’t like to make it very known, usually he played it off as just curiosity. But Mark always had the habit of playing with his fingers when he was concerned.
“I’m great, actually just been spending more time with friends.” Jeno hopes the excuse is enough to let him escape, though if Jaemin was the one he said that to he would’ve been caught instantly.
“Oh,” Mark seems relieved, “Y/N? You should bring her over some time, or better yet bring her over to our set next weekend.”
“Yeah man I’ll let her know but I’m pretty sure she’s going to be busy.”
He knew you’d be busy, you mentioned that the night before, about how busy your work schedule was going to be and so there wouldn’t be much time in between to hang out. You had apologized profusely, to which he’d told you there was seriously no reason to. If he could last months without sex, he could last one week while he was out of town.
“Y/N! We haven't seen her in a while!” Jaemin joins the conversation, “How has she been?”
Mark is quick to give a short answer to him, one that Jeno is thankful for as he steps towards his place, drumsticks in hand. The other guys were still talking to each other, the conversation shifting to how Mark doesn’t appreciate them being late constantly. Jisung arguing about how he’s in more trouble when Donghyuck has shown up late to practice more times than Jisung.
The guys were certainly not used to the rise of fame they’ve had, adjusting to a busier schedule and way more practice sessions than ever before. Jeno hadn’t even had time to check in with his family so much anymore because of how busy he was.
The reminder plagues his mind, making him reach for his phone to swipe through the family group chat that he hadn’t been catching up with for reasons that would only make him guilty. There wasn’t much to catch up on except for his cousin asking him for tickets to Oblivion’s show this weekend and another asking if he’s bringing Jaemin as his plus one to his sister’s wedding. That one he skipped past because Yeri had really been trying to make moves on Jaemin
Shit. He had forgotten about how soon that was. He slid out of the chat, noticing a more recent text from his mother.
Mom: I hope you aren’t forgetting about the wedding. I ordered your suit for you and we still need to get it tailored. Stop by soon, I’ve seen my own son on my phone more than in person.
He shoots back a simple reply. He would make sure to visit her soon. More than likely after the show, since his hometown was only half an hour away.
He hadn’t been home in a while, something he was regretting now that he realized it. He did love visiting his family, the problem was that as much as they supported him they, his mother mostly, couldn’t help but make subtle comments.
Like why wouldn’t he want his own place? She was willing to pay his rent so he didn’t have to share space with all of his roommates. Jeno declined on multiple occasions. As much as the guys were annoying, he didn’t mind their company.
Jeno grew up in a household different to the rest. His parents spent most of their time abroad, his father managing the family business and his mother spending most of her time performing in front of stadiums as a nation-known cellist. He did have his older sister, Seulgi, though she was busy with business school to eventually take on their family business.
He loved his family of course, and they loved him but being with the guys felt like he finally had brothers, annoying and kind of invasive, but brothers nonetheless.
“Okay enough screwing around, seriously.” Mark calls for the rest of them. The guys make their way to their positions, Jeno was about to set his phone down when he spots your message.
Princess: You busy tonight?
You had set your own nickname on his phone when you found out he had you as FN/LN, it stuck around since then. He smirks, typing in his reply.
Neno: Why?
You miss me already?
The chat bubble shows that you’re typing. He smiles to himself, awaiting your reply.
Princess: And other things…
I'm free at ten, you have a key.
He’s about to reply when Jaemin pops up from behind him, startling him into shutting his phone off. “Who are you texting?”
“Family.”
Jaemin scoffs, clearly not buying the excuse but choosing to ignore it. “Alright Vin Diesel.” He takes a few steps away, not before raising a brow like he was onto Jeno.
With what little time left before they start warming up Jeno sends a quick thumbs up, hoping that gets the message across clear enough. He can’t say he regrets any of the decisions made in the past few weeks, and if he could make an educated guess based off of how often you ran towards your laptop to write things down after sex, he was sure you felt the same.
He wouldn’t admit it to the guys, mostly because whatever he was up to wasn’t really their business, but also because he liked the sneaky vibe the two of you had going on. It wouldn’t last forever, that’s for sure. But could you blame him for not wanting his friends to ask question after question about you?
If anything he was doing you two a favor, the guys would probably jump you with questions about Jeno that they would never be able to squeeze out of him. There was also the fear that if any of the guys started to catch on then he’d have to explain himself. They had already had a habit of teasing him whenever he mentioned spending nights at your place, even before this arrangement began.
Especially Jaemin who was always the hopeless romantic, reading into things too much. He always bugged Jeno with questions about you, ones like how nice you complimented each other, and how cute the babies would be if you wanted any. It was a problem that Jeno easily solved by setting boundaries, sure, yet still left him wary of telling his friend.
Jeno decided that it would be best to keep this from them, at least for as long as he could. It wasn’t so bad though, because on one hand while you got to tell your own friends, he kept it to himself. A secret that he cherished on his own, one that he could smile freely without anyone poking into what deeper meaning could be there.
☆ 📚 ☆
The last thing you expected was for you to be drunk out of your mind on a random Wednesday at six in the afternoon. It came as no shock that the reason came down to one single factor. Yuqi. The girl was known for her spontaneous trips all around the globe, so when she texted you to meet with her since she happened to be in town, you couldn’t decline.
So you had reluctantly canceled the plans from earlier with Jeno, one too many sorry texts and gifs until he finally called you to say it was really okay. Practice had gone on a bit longer than it usually was with their show coming up soon. And before you could offer another apology for not being able to go out and travel with him to see the band, he was already stressing that you need to worry less.
So that’s what you were doing now, relaxing with three empty soju bottles on the table to account for that. Yuqi sitting in front of you, picking at the samgyeopsal that you had eaten way too much of since she’d offered to pay. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, call it a buzzed daze or whatever but you felt good.
“Shuhua tells me you’ve been focused on writing,” Yuqi starts, “Says you’re trying to push yourself to release by the end of the year.”
You hum, batting your lashes to snap out of whatever daydreaming you’d been doing. “I’ve been pouring all of my hard work into it.”
Yuqi giggles, “Yeah, she said you’re not bad at all, just lack sex appeal.”
You gasp, “I’ll have you know that’s not true!”
She laughs louder, instigating just as she always did. “I’m kidding! She did say you were a bit stuck with the smut scenes.”
“Wow and I thought there was a non disclosure for book transcripts.” You joke, shoving a piece of the pork into your mouth. The sweet glaze being the first thing you taste as you bite into the meat, savoring the flavor like it was gourmet. You guessed that came with the buzz.
“Hey she said that I should talk to you about it, that I might offer good advice.”
“Cause you’re a sex fiend?”
She clicks her tongue, “Because I am an editor for one of the most recognized Magazine Journalism organizations in the world!” A few customers who happen to be dining in raise their eyebrows, giving you a look of disdain and annoyance. Yuqi bows her head slightly in apology before coughing and adjusting her volume, “And because I am a sex fiend, yes.”
“No need.” You reply, picking another piece of meat from the stove on the table. Yuqi frowns. To be honest, if she would’ve come around earlier offering you her own hook up stories than you probably would’ve taken that and used it for inspiration, but now you had your own experiences to use. Not that you had told anyone about that as of yet, so of course Yuqi was looking at you like you just turned down a million dollar check.
What Yuqi was offering was like a goldmine to early writers, ones who, like you, struggled with writer's block because of lack of inspiration. The only thing is, there wasn’t much left uninspired to you. Not when for the past few weeks since the first time you and Jeno had sex. If anything, you’d become quite the fiend yourself, texting him almost every day about perhaps trying something new. For research purposes of course.
“No need?” Yuqi spoke up, "Don't tell me you’ve replaced me with someone else. I didn’t even get to tell you about my trip to Thailand!”
She forgot that she did tell you about that trip, right as it was happening. She called you straight from the bedroom of some girl named Minnie that she’d met at a soirée where she downed way too many glasses of champagne to remember how she ended up in a different hotel room.
“Not replace you, just got some first hand experience.” You smile, refusing to meet her eyes as a warm smile makes its way on your face. She gasps loudly, having realized what the implications meant, the scattered people around shaking their heads at her volume.
“You found another fuck buddy?” She lowers her voice, leaning in closer to analyze any answer your body could tell her. Blame it on the alcohol and the dry mouth you get after a few too many shots, but you gulp. Her eyes widened once more. “Oh my god you did! Why wouldn’t you say anything?”
“Must I need to share everything?”
“Y/N,” She deadpans. “That’s like your main characteristic. Chronic oversharer?”
You open your mouth to reply but she cuts you off. “Don’t argue against it, it’s true! The first conversation we had was about how your childhood cat died and inspired you to become a Bartender.”
Rest in Peace Martini.
You shake your head, setting down your glass. “Alright, fine. Yeah I do, but it’s not like you think it is!” Yuqi tilts her head. “I mean that! You know i’m not really one to have a Fuck buddy.”
“Yet you do anyway?”
She was right, and your stubbornness hated that. “Only because it’s not just some rando!” This time, everyone’s eyes landed on you disapprovingly. You winced, quietly apologizing for your volume.
“Which is exactly why you kept it a secret in the first place, and why you refuse to tell me without sounding ominous, and also explains the fact that you look so tense right now because i’m putting all of the pieces together and— oh my god.” Yuqi pauses, “You’re fucking Lee Jeno.”
You almost spat out your drink, “How did you even guess that?”
“I had a hunch,” Her eyes trail down to your exposed shoulder, the sleeve of your shirt tugged lower than it was supposed to be. “Also I've only seen bites like that from one man.”
You weren’t sure if you should be concerned or jealous that she was familiar with his bite marks, not because the two of them had ever messed around but mostly because up until this moment you didn’t know she knew of his bedroom habits. You settled on fear. Yuqi’s guesses were never wrong. It was as scary as it was impressive.
“Calm down tiger, I only know that because he used to hook up with my college roommate.”
For some strange reason that gives you a bit of relief. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She stares at you for a bit, contemplating whether or not to argue with you, ultimately deciding not to.
“Fine, don’t say anything, just drink with me.”
You wouldn’t dare decline. Yuqi excuses herself, heading out to the bar to grab a few shots for a quick second. You’re left alone, scrolling through your phone and slowly thinking about Jeno. You think back to what Yuqi had mentioned earlier. Jeno’s fling with her roommate that you weren’t aware about. You can feel it again this time stronger, a pang in your chest that you refused to dwell over. Your attempts at ignoring fall flat because within the next second you slide into your recent chat with him, sending a text before your brain could decide otherwise.
Princess: What are you doing?
A few minutes pass with no reply until the notification comes in. It’s a picture of him in dim lighting, the only light coming in from what you assumed was his pc. He had headphones on, the mic barely covering his mouth. From the angle, you could see a bit of his clothing. A black tank top, that he apparently had multiple different versions of, his muscular arms on display. You bite your lip, saliva gathering in your mouth from how badly you needed that right now. The next message is short and simple.
Neno: On league w hyuck.
You feigned chalance, staring at the picture longer than you should’ve. Your eyes roam around the place, searching for your friend’s whereabouts before you could make a stupid decision. She’s nowhere, which meant one thing. Your finger is over the call button about to click when you hear someone come up, assuming it’s Yuqi you set your phone down.
“Hey, are you lonely?”
A stranger you hadn’t noticed until now stood in front of you, the man clearly intoxicated with the way his speech was slurred.
“Ah,” You look around for Yuqi, she’s nowhere in sight. “No not real—“
He doesn’t give any time for you to answer, sliding an empty chair way too close to you. From how close he is you can smell the alcohol off of him, even worse with the way he opens his mouth. “It’s not safe for your friend to just leave a pretty girl like you here.”
Your heartbeat rises, his words coming off way more threatening than friendly. You awkwardly laugh, hoping that you don’t at all look as scared as you feel right now.
“Seriously, you’re fucking beautiful.” His arm reaches forward, holding onto your arm. “You got a boyfriend?”
“I–“ You stutter. Fuck. This was not at all how you were supposed to sound like. You’d experienced enough cat calls to know that the best choice in this situation is to walk away. For some reason though you couldn’t help but freeze up.
“Then how about you come with me tonight? I could show you a fun time.”
“How about you fuck off instead.” Yuqi appears out of nowhere, a deep frown on her face, the drinks in her hand coming down to slam against the table.
The man scoffs, looking more annoyed than frightened. “I don’t think someone like you should be talking like that.”
“And I don’t think someone in their thirties should have a receding hairline, but clearly I was wrong.”
He sneers, standing up from where he’s seated shortening the distance in between them. “Are you crazy?”
“Are you?” She starts, walking closer to him. In most scenarios you’d find your friend’s confrontational attitude inspiring, but right now all you could think about is just how drunk this man is, and just how many things could go wrong.
“Watch your fucking tone,” He stares down at Yuqi. “Bitch.”
You stand up then, trying to deescalate the situation without any hospital trips tonight. Yuqi opens her mouth about to start arguing back, the other people around doing nothing but sitting down in their seats. “Hey, there’s no need for any of this. I have a boyfriend, so if you don’t mind leaving—”
“What and I’m supposed to believe you?” He turns his attention to you. A group of men get up from their seats, quickly grabbing onto the man who you assume is their friend. They refuse to meet your eyes, instead trying to calm the guy down and take him back to where they were seated.
“No fuck no I’m not leaving!” The man shoves his friend off of him. “These two bitches think they’re better than me or something.”
You hope he’s too drunk to notice the way you roll your eyes without thinking. As a bartender you’d seen many aggressive drunks, you knew better not to react spontaneously since they’d only take it as a challenge. You tried to keep your composure, instead turning your attention to Yuqi who had at some point during the dispute, grabbed onto her phone.
You meet eyes with her, mouthing let’s go to her. She nods regretfully, holding back all of her anger on the tip of her tongue. You're about to step around him when he focuses on you. He grabs onto your wrist, “The fuck do you think you’re going?”
You pull your arm away, his grip not tight enough to scare you off. Okay, now you were seriously getting pissed off. “Dont fucking touch me.”
He lets out a deep chuckle, “Why? You seemed like that's all you wanted earlier.”
Call it liquid courage but you felt a sudden surge of anger. All you wanted was good food, fun with a friend, and maybe a booty call at the end of the night not whatever bullshit this guy was on. You were off the clock for fuck’s sake.
You're not even sure when it happens, just the direct aftermath. The man’s on the floor, blood dripping from his nose as you hold onto your hand. Your knuckles red from the contact to his face, more than likely going to leave a bruise. Yuqi’s eyes are wide, and you can tell she’s trying with all of her power to hold back laughing.
The sorry guy is still on the floor, holding his nose and freaking out about the blood as his friends try to stop the bleeding and calm him down. You take that as a sign to leave, smiling and nodding at the crowd who are staring jaws slacked. Yuqi throws a quick few bills on the table before grabbing onto your non injured hand and dragging you outside of the restaurant.
There she finally lets her expression change, her laughs filling the silent outside air. “Oh my fuck—“ She tries to catch her breath. “What the fuck when did you learn to punch like that?”
“I’m a girl who works as a bartender, it’s a safety measure.” You shrug, prompting her to laugh more. You fall into a fit of your own, her contagious cackling promoting you to join. The roads are hardly busy at all, a comforting fact to you when the two of you probably looked insane right now.
She finally steadies her breaths, at the same time a car approaches the side of the road. One that you recognized as Jeno’s. He parks it, stepping outside of the vehicle and directly to the two of you. You suck in a breath, his hands coming to your face as he looks into your eyes with worry.
“What happened? Are you okay?” You open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off. His hand grabbing onto your tender one, the colors barely visible from where the bruises were forming. “Youre hurt.”
“You should’ve seen the other guy!” Yuqi jokes.
Jeno’s eyes darkened. “Where the fuck is he.”
“Neno it’s fine he was just some drunk,” You smile tightly, hoping it’s enough to keep him from doing anything stupid. It’s not.
“It’s not fine. I could hear him through the phone and drunk or not he shouldn’t be talking to anyone like that.”
You couldn’t lie, the way Jeno was acting right now was kind of sexy but this was not what you wanted right now. The situation had been dealt with. You were pretty sure with a punch of that strength you’d at least broken his nose.
“Jeno,” You slide your fingers into his hand, the act more intimate than you realized. He seems caught off guard, closing his own fingers around yours lightly so as to not hurt you more. “I promise, I’m okay.” He sighs, his jaw clenched with everything he’s holding back right now.
“Well,” Yuqi starts. “There’s an obvious connection going on right now.”
You both turn to face the brunette, her smile teasing with a flicker of amusement in her eye. You guessed this was probably the most fun she's had in a while. You expect him to pull away, closing your eyes to brace yourself from the embarrassment. The moment never happens, his hand refusing to let go of you even as he turns to face your friend.
Jeno huffs out a short chuckle, “Hi Yuqi.”
“Hey Jeno! It’s been quite the while.” She looks behind the two of you to a car that pulls onto the side of the road behind Jeno’s. “I wish we could chat longer but unfortunately I do have a flight to catch so..”
“You said you’re staying for a week?”
“Ah,” Yuqi gulps, caught in the lie. “Right well I should start packing early. It was nice seeing you two though, goodbye!”
She's gone the next second, sneaking around the two of you to get into the car. You smile amused by her antics. Jeno doesn’t let go, instead leading you with him towards the car. You follow behind, nothing but the sound of the engine from Yuqi’s mysterious ride fading into the night. He opens the door for you, letting you in and shutting it as he makes his way over to the drivers side.
The ride is full of silence, the traffic lights illuminating Jeno’s face to help you decipher his current mood. He’s unreadable to most, especially when he’s upset. But not to you. Never to you. You knew him like the back of your hand.
You try and come up with something to say when your phone lights up.
Yuqi: Oh he’s down baddddd. He called me to go check on you didnt even say hi just said go check on y/n then said he was on his way and hung up.
I thought it might be best if you wanted to see him so I got a ride lol :P
Text me when you get home tho!
Unless you’re too busy getting busy iykwim ;))))
You shoot out a quick reply, closing the app to open your recent calls. Jeno was at the top of the recents page. You must’ve called him accidentally when that man snuck up to you, no wonder he mentioned hearing the conversation.
That made things much more awkward for you. For one, you had been the one to cancel plans on him. Then after a few drinks you called him, ruining his game because you couldn’t simply get the stranger to fuck off. That must’ve been why he was silent. He was mad at you. The furrow in his brows gave away that much.
“I’m sorry,” you start, “for ruining your night.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, his eyes only barely meeting yours as he continues to drive. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t it? I didn’t even mean to call you. I was going to handle it myself.”
He takes a deep breath, “Stop, that's not it.”
“Then what is it? Are you mad you didn’t get to hit him first? Is this like a weird Alpha Male dominance thing?” He chuckles and for some reason that makes you more frustrated. “I’m serious, Jeno. Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad,” he pauses, “Well not in the way you think.”
You lour, “What kind of response is that? Is this some kind of puzzle to solve? Oh great mysterious Jeno, please allow me to discover the truths of why you're angry!”
“I’m not mad,” He stops at a red light, head turning to look at you directly, your own eyes meeting him with slight annoyance. “I-“ He starts again, turning back to the road. “I’m upset. I wish I was there with you and that you wouldn’t have to deal with those poor excuses for men. And it's not that I don’t think you can handle things on your own, it's just that I wish you wouldn’t have to. Call it my ego but I want to be there to prevent shit like that.”
You blush, remorseful for your tone seconds prior. You were jumping to conclusions quite a bit. No, a lot a bit. Jeno wasn’t the type to want to admit how he felt, so you knew it did take him more courage than the average person to open up.
If his pride was hurt doing so then you thought the best option would be to hurt your own back. “If it helps, I was upset at you earlier too.” You can see his brow raise slightly. “I texted you mostly cause Yuqi mentioned you used to hook up with her roommate. If it’s like an ego thing, I guess technically I’m the same.”
“Miyeon?”
You wince at the name. “Sure.”
You weren’t aware of when the two of you made it to your apartment, just that suddenly you were in the familiar dark garage, cars parked all around the grey space. He turned the key, his car turning off as the two of you stayed quiet.
“Miyeon was just a fling, I didn’t tell you because it was over as quickly as it began.”
You refuse to move a muscle. You couldn’t explain why the thought still bugged you but it did. “Okay.” You say, and you're reaching for your seat belt when his hand stops you.
“I’m serious, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”
You knew that was true. The two had probably gone about their life without acknowledging each other. Jeno probably even lost track of her within the list of girls he’d already been with. For some reason the thought bugs you.
You shake it off, “I know, Neno. It’s okay, it was just a lapse in judgment.”
He nods, refusing to look away from you. You're not sure when he removed his own seat belt but he did, because suddenly his hands moved to remove your own. Your heart was pounding, his breath featherlight against you, raising the hairs on your arms.
He pulls away slightly, looking into your eyes for any words you left unspoken, all of which he’d taken right from your mouth. Speaking of, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, the overwhelming urge to pull him closer taking over your entire being. He must get the memo, because with his next move he’s cupping your face and kissing you.
The kiss is not at all like the ones you’d had before. Where those before were pure adrenaline, his lips met yours with an apology. Slow and gentle. His tongue grazed your bottom lip like he couldn’t get enough of you. And when you were about to deepen the kiss, he pulled away.
“Goodnight, Princess.”
You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. Was he insane? You snapped out of whatever daze you’d been in, facing him. He was already turning the car back on.
Wow so he really is insane.
You scoff, about to get up and out of this car and block him on every app to ever exist when you stop yourself. You bring your legs up onto the seat, hooking your hand under his seat to slide it further away from the wheel.
“What are you doing?”
You ignore him, and once there’s enough space between you move over, hopping onto his lap. His hands hold your waist on instinct. “It’s bad manners to leave a girl hanging after kissing her like that.”
He smiles mockingly, “Like what?”
You bring your hand up, mimicking the way he held onto you. “Like it hurt you to pull away.”
“Maybe it did,” He whispers, one more word and his lips would be touching yours. You aren’t sure who made the move, just that all of a sudden you were both on each other once again, this time with a sense of urgency.
His hand slid into your shirt, fingers trailing up your spine to push you closer to him. The action only fueled your hunger more, you kissed him harder. It was possessive, like you wanted to leave a mark on him, one that told him that for now he was yours. You rolled your hips once, the two of you sucking in a breath in sync at the feeling.
He pulled away, his chest heaving. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.” You knew him well enough now to know he was trying desperately to come up with an excuse. Why he was, you weren’t sure.
“Why not?” You ask, taking a moment to give him time to think. He didn’t answer. Feigning innocence you grinded your hips down once again. His jaw clenched, a tell sign that he was holding back, redness creeping up his face. “Nobody’s around.”
“I don’t have condoms in here.”
You shrug, condoms were the last of your worries right now. “I don’t mind it as long as you don’t.”
His gaze darkens, a smile creeping onto his face. “Is that what you want?”
More like what you needed. If he didn’t dick you down right at this moment you would probably just end up getting yourself off then going to bed frustrated. There really was no comparing your own smaller fingers to his thick ones, and even your pussy was starting to tell the difference.
You nod and that’s enough for him to curse a fuck it and bring his mouth to yours. This time it was all teeth and tongue. Nothing but pure fervency to consume every part of each other. You let out a gasp as he slips his fingers under your skirt, dragging them against the damp fabric.
“You’re so wet baby,” He pulls away, whispering against your sensitive neck. “Is this all for me?” You nod, wishing for nothing more but him to fill you up already. He clicks his tongue, “Come on Princess we’ve talked about this before, use your words.”
“Yes, since you sent that picture of you.” You ramble. You think it would probably be best if you were shot dead at the moment. What was that one animal that gets so embarrassed that it just dies on the spot called?
He chuckles, finding your confession flattering. “Then I shouldn’t tease you any longer.” He says before sliding your panties to the side and shoving two long fingers in you at once. The squeeze is tight, but in all of the right ways. You whine, grinding down on them to feel them hit deeper.
“Fuck,” He says, fixated on the way you squeeze around his digits. “Use my fingers to get yourself off.” You waste no time listening, riding them slowly as he watches. You’re biting onto your lip, holding back sounds as much as possible because technically you both were still in a public area, as silent as it was.
He kisses you, swallowing every single one of your sounds. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime, hyperaware of every action. You feel him slide another finger in, curling them against you barely grazing your g-spot. You bite down against his lip, offering a poor apology as he hisses, your orgasm approaching rapidly.
Jeno doesn’t reply, instead he uses his mouth to trail against your neck making sure to leave bruises around the sensitive skin. You’ve given up on holding back any sounds, your moans building up just as your climax is, and right as you’re about to finish Jeno bites down on your skin. You cry out loud, the pain and pleasure meshing into one, a tear sliding down your cheek.
He pulls his fingers out, a whine falling from your mouth from the loss. “Color?” He asks, his pupils dilated as you look at him.
“Green.”
“Good, I knew you could take it.” He slides the waistband of his sweatpants down, pumping his cock twice.
“You didn't wear anything under?”
He shakes his head, “Had to hold myself back from fucking you the second you started grinding against me.”
You laugh, “You should’ve just done it.”
“Stay quiet and I will.”
“Okay,” You take the challenge, sliding your panties down your thighs and hovering over his dick. You don't give him any time, sinking down on him in one full go. You bite down on your lip to keep yourself from groaning. He’s breathing heavily holding back his own sounds. “That goes for you too.”
His arms come up to guide you, helping lift until it’s only the tip before sinking down again. Nothing but heavy gasps of air and low curses slipping from you both. There was nothing like a fun challenge, trying your hardest to hold back your moans while simultaneously trying to get the other to slip up.
As he continues to pound into you, you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, the slight sting of the mascara in your eyes from your earlier tears. You made a note to buy yourself a sex proof one soon. Jeno’s trying his hardest to stay composed, but you can tell how good he feels with the way his fingers dig into your skin.
“Fuck.” He gives in, lifting you fully on his own and setting a harsher pace. You can feel him hit directly against you. You gasp, using your hand to cover your mouth and try to keep silent. It’s no use, from the angle you feel him even deeper, moans coming out of you as the pressure in your stomach signals your release.
“Neno– mmh. fuck—“
You shout, louder than you meant to, your legs aching with how much they were being put to use. You swear you notice a twinge of mischief in his eyes. The next second he’s bringing the same hand that was just inside you to your mouth. “Open.”
You do, still managing to taste yourself as he swirls his fingers around your tongue. He pulls them away, a string of saliva breaking away as he uses his thumb to tilt your head down. He traces your bottom lip, slightly bringing you closer. Then when you think he’s going to kiss you senseless again, he spits into your mouth.
“I told you princess, keep it down.” He whispers, thrusting into you with no remorse. You can feel yourself about to come undone.
“Neno I’m gonna—“
“I know baby, me too.” You can hear it in his rough voice. “Cum with me.”
With one last thrust you’re orgasm hits you, fast and heavy. He curses, filling you up with his seed. You whine, it’s the first you’d ever let a man finish inside you and damn had you been missing out. Any attempt of speaking is cut short, you’re brain is too fucked out to process anything. Instead you fall forward, curling into his neck that’s damp with sweat that is a little gross but mostly comforting.
“You smell familiar.”
He laughs, his hand scratching your scalp, you hum. “It’s your shampoo.”
“I fucking knew it.” You pout, not daring to move from his hold. The two of you stay that way. Curled up against one another in complete silence. You’re fighting your sleep, you had been the second he started scratching you. His low breathing isn’t helping either.
“We can’t stay like this forever,” His whispers, yet makes no choice to move. And even though you knew what he meant, your mind couldn’t help but picture different scenarios.
Was that what he would tell his other hookups?
Did he warn them before they became too attached?
You shove the idea down, refusing to think it over. He was oblivious to your sudden concerns with your face hidden away from him. You suck in a breath, the light lavender scent of your shampoo hitting your nose with an underlying musk from Jeno himself. You should say something. It wasn’t abnormal to be curious about his past arrangements. You open your mouth, closing it just as quickly.
“I know.” You say instead and you swear you can hear his heart pound a bit faster when you do, but just as you shoved down your own thoughts earlier, you do the same now.
☆ 🎸☆
For a long time there was nothing Jeno loved more than performing on stage.
He was destined to make music. He knew it from a young age. Cemented by his aunt who had gifted him a drum set as a kid. His mom had only further encouraged him, he was the one to take on her love for music, even if it was through a different instrument or way of expressing.
During every stage his heart was pounding with adrenaline, never becoming exhausted and instead waiting for his next cue. It fueled him, every slam of his drumsticks, the vibration felt throughout his entire body, and of course as he grew older he only became more confident in his abilities. He felt it every time he was on stage, a smile growing on his face as each song came.
The growing fan base wasn’t something he ever prioritized. He didn’t make music to become famous and make money, hell he was the son of some of the most known and respected people in their fields. You would make jokes about his nepotism, and maybe if the guys had any clue who he was before he joined then that would’ve been the case, but none of it mattered anyway.
Now suddenly, he wanted to show them the best of him. That meant being himself at his core, and what better way was there to show that side of him than drumming?
Oblivion were finishing up their last song, the sound of the fans screaming crescendoed as Donghyuck’s low nasally voice rang out the final verse. Jeno’s heart was going one hundred miles a minute, pure ecstasy flowing through his body. Then within a half second, he blinked and suddenly his smile had nothing to do with the crowd and the energy they had been radiating all night that directly translated into his performance. No, this time he pictured you, in all of your glory.
The song came to an end. The crowd made sure to be the loudest they were the whole night, one particular high pitched squeal pulling him from his own thoughts. He rolled his eyes at Jaemin who was winking at a fan that resulted in another scream. He dragged him off of the stage, following the rest of the group as they walked back to their shared waiting room.
“Great show out there,” Darling cheered, specifically running into Jisung’s arms to give him a quick peck. The action made Jeno slightly envious in a way he’d never felt before by the couple’s frequent pda. “I swear there were way more people in attendance than any other show!”
“Thanks Darling,” Jaemin smiles. “You might just be our good luck charm.”
Jisung visibly deflates at the usage of his nickname for his girlfriend, pulling at her waist to keep her close like Jaemin would snatch her at any second. Jaemin was only messing around, he’d confessed to Jeno a few months ago that he loved how Jisung’s face scrunched up when he was annoyed, so he made it a mission to piss him off as much as possible.
“Yeah Jisung is more focused than ever,” Donghyuck smirks, “unless we count the time he was busy getting his dick sucked before we had to go up on stage.”
“That’s not what happened!” The couple shout in unison, matching shades of red in their face. Jeno was sure the group would never let them live that down.
Mark laughs. “Well we should be staying here for one night only, remember not to end up so drunk that you sleep through hotel maintenance pounding on your door so hard they assume you died.”
“It happened one time.” Donghyuck groans.
“And it won’t happen again, you and Jaemin are sharing a room tonight.”
“What? Hello, way to be a cockblock, Mark. I was planning on going out tonight.” The implication that he was bringing someone back to the hotel was clear.
“Not my problem,” Mark sighs out before turning to Jeno. “You’re staying a few days longer, right?”
“Yeah, I'm gonna spend the weekend with my parents.”
“Nice, have fun.”
“Then what about you, Mark? You just got a room to yourself?” Donghyuck pouts.
“Yep,” Mark answers honestly, "gives me time away from you guys.”
Darling laughs, "Don't worry, the nahyuck fans will love it.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Aww,” Jaemin coos, his arm wrapping around Donghyuck’s shoulder, “We have our own ship name!”
Donghyuck looks like the revelation is causing him physical distress. Jeno takes that as a cue to leave before the two start fighting because once they started it was hard to stop them.
“Youre not going out with us at least?” Jisung asks, his fingers intertwined with his girlfriend's, a soft smile on his face that Jeno never saw from him until the two of them reconnected. He was happy for his friend, he always did wish the best for them all, and for people like Jisung and even Jaemin, he knew as much as they contradicted it with their past or current actions. They wanted love most of all. So seeing Jisung as he was now, so open and honest with his feelings was relieving for the most part. Though on one hand it did open a can of worms he was actively avoiding paying any mind to.
He could tell the guys were growing a bit curious. He wasn’t spending much time at the apartment, opting to spend the night at yours instead. A privilege you weren’t aware of that none of his past hookups ever got. Once again, a can of worms he really didn’t want to open.
“Nah not tonight.”
Jisung raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask anything. With that, Jeno’s saying a quick goodbye, making his way out of the door as Donghyuck and Jaemin start one of their petty arguments.
Jeno had to give his parents credit, as much as his parents were busy, they always made sure to provide their children with only the best of the best. That included hiring Miss Kim, their personal chef, to make the best meals for their children.
He sat at the kitchen table, plates of breakfast being served as his Mom read the morning newspaper, his father sitting next to her and feeding her some of the washed grapes that Miss Kim had brought earlier. Jeno felt a twinge in his chest at the sight, covering it up with a quick cough as if anyone around would notice it.
“Is Seulgi here yet?”
His mom sets the paper down, “She’s late, overslept after a late engagement party her friend, what's her name?”
“Joy.” His father answers, feeding her another grape.
“Right. I think She's set to be one of her bridesmaids.”
Jeno nods. Miss Kim is setting his plate down in front of him, he mouths a thank you receiving a quick smile and bow before Miss Kim heads back to the kitchen.
“Speaking of which,” Mrs Lee sits up, eyeing Jeno with a mischievous expression as he digs his spoon into the side bowl of rice. “You aren’t coming alone, right?”
Jeno smiles smug, “Are you implying I bring back Jaemin?”
Jeno had invited Jaemin to a family gathering of his about two years ago. His mother was not immune to his charms, taking a liking to his carefree and confident way of speaking. She was adamant on setting him up with Seulgi until she had came out. And even though both parents were very supportive, Jeno had a feeling that his mother hadn’t yet given up on her dream of having Jaemin as a son in law. Though her target had shifted to Jeno.
“No actually, though im not opposed to inviting him. I’ve already told your cousin all about him.” That explained the consistent texts from her. “I just think it would be nice if you brought someone back home with you. Show her around a bit. How about that friend of yours you mentioned? Y/N is it?”
He almost spat out his food, choking it down instead to which his father passed him his handkerchief. He grabbed onto it, coughing until they finally died down.
“I’m not too sure ive mentioned her before,” He finally answers.
“Oh if not you then, perhaps Seulgi?”
Jeno has to hold back from groaning. There was a time where he and his sister went out for drinks, she had introduced herself to you and the night ended with you and her exchanging numbers. Clearly he wasnt aware that you both had stayed in contact since then, he’d definitely be asking you about that soon. “Yes, perhaps.”
“She told us about her, mentioned shes a very sweet girl.” His mom’s smile widens. “I’d like to meet her.”
He hums, praying for any possible distraction to appear. The sounds of rushed footsteps approaching from none other than Seulgi herself. “Sorry I’m late!” She says, taking a seat next to Jeno. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Jeno says at the same time his mother says, “Did you invite Jeno’s friend to your wedding?”
Seulgi pauses for a moment, “Jaemin?”
“Y/N.”
“Ah,” Seulgi smiles a thank you at Miss Kim who brought her a serving, “I assumed he was going to bring her on his own.”
“Never just assume with a man,” Mrs Lee sighs. “Jeno, I hope you can consider it.”
It’s not that Jeno refused to consider inviting you. It’s just that, his mom could be kind of stubborn. If you were to come by and she grew to like you then she’d automatically assume that you and him were meant to be together. And Jeno had a feeling she would like you, there was nobody in the world who wouldn’t.
The last thing Jeno wanted was to make you uncomfortable by introducing you to his family, meeting Seulgi was enough, and you end up running away scared. On the other hand, you were someone important to him, so what was the difference of introducing you to his family when he’s introduced Jaemin before.
“I’ll talk to her about it,” Jeno says finally. His mom, grinning happily, is about to reply when he continues. “But I'm not going to force her. If she doesn’t want to, then she doesn’t have to.”
“Well of course not,” Seulgi punches his shoulder lightly, “We’re not expecting you to kidnap her. Although considering the book drafts she’s shown me, I don’t think she’d mind it.” She jokes. Jeno’s eyes widen, and a part of him is scared that his parents might have heard, but when he turns to see them both in their own world he knows they didn’t.
Then again, there’s that familiar sting of envy. Only this time he can’t blame it on the overdone PDA from Jisung and Darling, now it’s from his own parents. His parents wore their hearts on their sleeve constantly, and never hid their love from anyone. He’d grown used to it years ago, so what changed now?
Something must be severely wrong with me.
☆ 📚 ☆
Things are the worst they could ever be. Okay that was dramatic but it was what you felt like in the moment. For starters you had a suspicious feeling you were growing sick, you sneezed way more than the average amount of times a person sneezes today. Then second of all, you were drawing blanks both literally and physically.
You had been sitting in front of your laptop for what felt like hours, and absolutely nothing would pop up. There was also another issue, one you didn’t want to speak aloud to anyone other than the incognito mode on your safari search. You felt pent up. Something that you didn’t even know could happen with two days of abstinence, but unfortunately it could.
It was like you were going crazy, you’d lasted years without sex so why did two days suddenly feel like eternity. Your head missed Jeno a lot, but your body did so much more. Especially late at night, like right now that you were in the darkness of your room with only the bedside lamp to illuminate the space around you. You tried to get off, maybe that could help with your writer's block in some weird kinky way. It was no use.
Not even scrolling Twitter videos could save you. You tried to sleep it off, perhaps a break would help. But the longer you laid down in complete darkness the more insatiable you became.
And then there was the bright idea. Jeno was a night owl, perhaps he was awake right now? You blushed in the dark room, there was no way you were even considering sexting him while he was spending quality family time. No you couldn’t stoop so low.
You flopped onto your right side, squeezing your eyes shut to clear your mind. Only instead your mind began playing tricks on you, images of Jeno’s body flashing through your mind like they were stored in a hard drive from your brain. You visualized the curve of his muscles, the definition and ridges of his back muscles that you hooked your nails into when he drilled into you so—
Oh gosh. You were seriously thinking about Jeno like that right now. This couldn’t be right, right? Your body seemed to think differently, with the way you felt your panties begin to dampen from your arousal.
You took a deep breath, snatching your phone from the charging cable on your desk and opening your message tab with Jeno.
Princess: Are you awake?
His typing pops up faster than you’d expected. You were hoping that he wouldn’t reply, then you could call it a night and pretend this never happened.
Neno: Yeah. Can’t sleep?
Princess: Not really…
You’re about to chicken out, your finger hovers over the do not disturb button when your familiar ringtone, one of Oblivion's earliest songs, blasts out of your phone. You jump, sliding the answer button.
“Hello?” Your voice comes out way more weak than you intended, and mentally you’re beating yourself up about it.
“Hey,” His voice hits you like a truck. The deep timbre sliding down your spine in a way that makes your body react on its own, goosebumps raising on your skin. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I–“ Just miss you. It’s funny how now the tables have turned. “Can’t sleep.”
He hums, and you can hear him shifting on the other side, perhaps trying to get comfortable. “Do you want to talk?”
You wanted more than talking but maybe that was being too greedy. “Yeah, tell me about how the show went.”
He pauses for a second, “Went great, fans seemed to enjoy it a lot. Spent the rest of the day with my family.”
“Oh,” You forgot that he mentioned a breakfast date with his family. Your family was far too busy for those kinds of gatherings so it was a bit surprising but sweet. “How was that?”
“Not bad, it was nice seeing them with how long it’s been.”
“Can you tell me more?”
He chuckles, “Like what?”
“Anything. What about that game you play, how's that going?”
There’s another pause, and for a moment you feel like you’ve been caught. “Princess.”
The nickname goes straight to your core, your thighs pushing together on instinct. “Yeah?” You reply, voice weaker than you meant it to come out.
“Why are you awake right now?”
“I- I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Right,” He pauses again, and you missed the way his voice deepened. “How can I help you with that baby?”
You suck in a breath, a curse slipping from your lips. You swear you can hear him smile through the phone. “Come on, tell me what you need.”
“I need you.”
You can hear him move around again, your chest tightening with how honest you were. You meant it in more ways than one, but there was no time to dwell on it now.
“Why don’t you let me hear how true that is?”
“Like right now?” You squeak out, suddenly embarrassed.
He chuckles, “Or is that not why you called me?”
“I don’t know what you mean—“ “Princess. Never in a million years have you asked me about my games.”
“What if I wanted to change that?”
“You’re stalling.” He states, “If you’re shy you don’t have to be, your voice alone made me crazy the second you picked up.”
His honesty scares you a bit, but it also gives you room to relax. “Do I have that effect on you?”
“More than one.” You take a shallow breath, and he definitely notices it. “Are you gonna be a good girl and spread your legs for me?”
There’d be no way for him to know if you were really following his instructions, but with how needy you were you made sure to do it anyway. Sliding your fingers past your bellybutton and tracing the light fabric.
“Tell me, just how wet are you for me?”
“Fuck–“ You clench around nothing. “Since earlier. I couldn’t sleep without thinking of you.”
“Is that why you texted? Were you just waiting for me to call you to use my voice and get yourself off?”
“N-no I didn’t know you’d call.”
He hums mockingly, “Really? Then what were you going to do? Give up and wait for me to get back home to fuck you? His words were harsh. For some reason it was working for you, a wave of want rushing through your veins. “Or maybe, you were going to go out and find someone else to do the job?
“No Neno I wouldn’t,” You plead, “I only want you.”
“Fuck,” He whispers Beasley audible through how fast your heart was beating. “Then use my voice, and I’ll make sure to fuck you good tomorrow as an apology.”
You take that as a promise, your hand slipping down into your panties, fingers gliding across the folds of your wet cunt. You gasp, “Fuck Neno I’m so wet.”
“Yeah baby?” He grunts, and the familiar sound only drives you crazier. “Go ahead, slide a finger in.”
You do as he commands, your pussy squeezing around the digit. Only there’s no relief, you were used to Jeno’s long thick fingers, yours were nothing in comparison. “It's not enough.” You cry, desperately wishing he was there.
“Shh,” he coos you. “It’s okay baby, come on just imagine it’s me.”
You slid another finger in, it wasn't long enough, but it would have to do for now. You rocked your hips, slowly fucking yourself with your fingers, your panties pushed to the side as the wet squelches filled the room.
“Fuck I can picture how tight you are,” he groans through the phone and youre barely registering now just how quiet he’s trying to make his own voice. “Youre taking my fingers so well huh?”
“Fuck Neno please.” You whine, scissoring yourself to fit another finger in.
For a moment all that can be heard is the heavy breathing through the phone. The two of you are trying to keep as quiet as possible. You register it then, the wet slide of him on the other side. You’re not sure how you missed it. He was jacking himself off as you got off to his voice.
“Neno.” You call out his name.
“Yes, princess?” He stutters through the line.
“I’m ready for you now.”
He laughs at being caught. “Yeah? You gonna be able to take it?”
You nod like he could see you, “just please fuck me already.”
“Alright then,” he plays along. “Spread your legs for me more baby.”
Your eyes are shut, visualizing him over you, his hand gripping your leg harsh to keep them from shutting. You slide a third finger into your cunt, it wasn't close to his girth but it would have to do at the moment. You clenched around them, imagining your fingers were his cock instead, filling you up so good. “Neno–ngh fuck youre so big.”
“You can fit me baby, you know why?” His voice is low. “cause that pretty pussy of yours was made for me.”
You moan, setting a strict pace to match his own through the phone. The light sounds of his breathing getting heavier with every thrust of his hand. You could imagine him now, he’d probably be biting his lips to hold back his noises, trying to keep quiet from his family who were only a few rooms over. Your stomach tightens, your release approaching quicker than it would when it was just you to get yourself off.
“I’m close.”
“Me too,” He replies. “You gonna let me cum inside you again? Fill up your needy cunt?”
“Fuck yes Neno—” You scream out, your orgasm washing over you in the next second. Your fingers are cramping up, continuously thrusting inside you to help milk out your orgasm.
He grunts a bit louder, calling out your name from what you can assume is from him reaching his own climax. You keep your phone close to you, your breaths evening out. Your legs felt like jelly, the energy you’d had before dissipating. The tiredness from the time being four in the morning finally hitting you.
“Baby?” Jeno called out. You hummed low, using what was left of your energy to do so. He chuckles through the line, having realized that you were seconds away from knocking out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”
You don’t even remember if you answered or not, only that the call ended. Your breaths fall into an even rhythm as you drift off to sleep.
Part three:
Do I wanna know?
☆ 🎸☆
Call Jeno what he was. A simp, a manwhore, a little bitch. That one was specifically from an angry Donghyuck whom he had declined going out with for the fifth time in a row to see you today. He’d gotten back from his parents house, and assuming how early he woke up to drive back into town he wasn’t surprised you were still sleeping. You had a habit of a minimum of twelve hours a night and he’d taken up most of those last night at four in the morning.
He blushed slightly at the memory. You hadn’t answered, which would’ve worried anyone in his situation if he didn’t know you well enough to know that you were probably busy writing like your life depended on it after gaining a surge of inspiration.
He gripped onto the plastic bag in hand. He stopped by the convenience store for some of your favorite ramen. Nothing else, truthfully, the pack of condoms had somehow made their own way into his bag. “Y/N!” He opened your front door, being sure to lock it behind him.
The apartment was unusually silent, safe for the meows coming from Meowy who greeted Jeno by rubbing against his feet. He cooed at the cat before making his way over to your kitchen to set the bag on the counter. “I brought you some noodles! Oh and they had a discount on the condoms so I thought why not!”
You didn’t answer. He frowned, looking out at the front door he’d just come from to spot your shoes in their place. You were home, so were you just sleeping in?
He walked over to your bedroom, knocking a few times. A low groan sounding through the door followed by a “Come in.”
He opened the door, the darkness of the room enveloping you as you laid in bed, Your body curled in itself like you’d exhausted all energy for the rest of the year. He frowned, approaching you with soft footsteps. Your eyes met his with a squint.
“Princess?” He called your name, to which he immediately regretted the second your lips started wobbling.
“Neno I’m sorry,” your eyes began to water.
He panics, sitting on the corner of the bed to get closer to you. “Hey, what's wrong?” He feels a slight panic from seeing you like this, it’s not the first time he’d seen you cry but it wasn’t a sight he’d see often.
“I didn’t want to text anyone and I know I said I wanted you bit then I woke up and it was like a crime scene everywhere and I spent the whole morning washing the sheets but then my washer broke so I hand cleaned it all and these cramps are seriously going to kill me—“
“Hey it’s okay,” Jeno cuts you off, his thumb wiping the tear threatening to fall from your eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” You reply bashfully, “Ugh I’m so annoying I always get so sad on my period. It’s gross.”
“It’s not gross.” He replies in an instant.
“Youre right it’s just human nature or whatever,” you sigh, wiping at your own eyes and sitting up. He reaches forward, his warm hand wrapping around your waist to stop you. “Hey it’s okay, I can go. Just get some rest.”
You pouted, “But I don’t want you to go.”
He smiled, “Okay, I won’t.”
Jeno wasn't sure how much time had passed like this. Just that as soon as you could you had cuddled into him. Something about his natural body warmth being the perfect temperature to help your cramps, so he held onto you, your breaths eventually evening out into sleep.
He didn’t even bother to grab his phone, instead just staring at you like some creep. He was grateful no one else was there to call him out on it though. After a few minutes, you shifted. Your head peaked up from where it laid flat on his chest.
“Sorry did I trap you?” You mumbled the question, sleep still evident in your voice.
“No, it was pretty comfortable actually. You're like a sloth kind of.”
You rolled your eyes, laying your head down again. “You look like one.”
“Rude, and after I canceled plans with Donghyuck to come see you.” Jeno was only joking, he would’ve declined plans with Donghyuck even if he didn’t come to see you.
“Sorry again,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”
He scoffs playfully, “Hey I’m your friend before anything else.” He’s not sure why it felt so icky to say it but he continues, “I don’t need sex just to want to see you.”
You blush at his words, hiding your face deeper into his chest. “Yeah well, you're the first guy I’ve ever met like that.”
Jeno wasn't sure of most of your dating history, he wasn't the type to just ask but now he couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “Have you dated men like that?”
“Not dated, I’m not one for a relationship.” He knew that. The two of you had related plenty, but now he was itching to know more about you.
“Is there a reason?”
“No, not particularly at least.” You stir, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling filled with the tiniest glow in the dark stars that had been there for years. “I mean for some time I did want that, but then I lost my virginity and I guess I realized that love isn’t something that happens in real life.”
There’s not a single ounce of pain in your voice. “I held it off for the longest time, save for love kind of thing. Then in college I ended up sleeping with a crush and really it didn't live up to any expectations. The guy hardly even acknowledged me at all except for my body.”
Jeno scowled, the stupidity of men would be their demise. He could understand why women wanted nothing to do with them, there were plenty of fish in the sea sure, but just how many were the parasitic kind that drained the life out of women.
“It was alright I guess, led me to now. And congrats, you're the only man to actually care enough to make sure I finish.” You joke, though there’s an underlying embarrassment in your voice. One that he catches quickly.
“Do you regret it?” He asks. No malice in his words, just pure curiosity.
You shrug, “I guess I regret that it wasn’t like the books I write. There was no attentiveness, just impulsivity. If I could’ve then I would’ve wanted my first time to be with someone I could fully trust, someone who would treat me carefully knowing it was my first.”
He nods, though you don’t notice it at all. There’s too many things running through his head. You deserved better, even now you deserved the best. He wanted for you to fall in love just like the stories you wrote. The uneasy heartbeats, the anxiousness of not knowing if your feelings were reciprocated, then eventually the love confession that brought on a happy ending.
You deserved it more than anyone in the world.
“But it’s already passed so it’s nothing to dwell on,” You say, sitting up. “Now how about the ramen you brought?”
Jeno knows better than to argue, offering a smile instead.
“Coming right up.”
☆ 📚 ☆
The rest of your week had gone about as well as it could while you were on your period. You of course had to show up to work, despite the cramps and lower back aches, keeping a smile on throughout your shift while experiencing some of the worst discomfort ever.
The only way you survived was because of the pain killers Yuqi had given you and the take out from the restaurant down the street. Jeno hadn’t stopped by as often as you hoped. He told you that Mark was becoming more strict with practice as the group went viral for the third time in the month. You had seen a couple of videos, more recently one that was a q&a with Jeno. You had already known every answer of his, so anyone who considered themselves Jeno fans could suck it.
Speaking of which, he had also told you to hurry home tonight, which you figured was because he finally had time to visit. Your spirits were lifted now, you only hoped it wasn't so obvious as you left work to head straight home.
You squeaked open the door, expecting Meowy to meet you the way she always did with everyone who’d set foot into the apartment. Instead, you were met with a floor full of rose petals, candles (not real ones of course that was a fire hazard), lining up the hallway into your kitchen that was fully decorated with more roses and dinner plates. Your heart skipped a beat, the thought of an intruder stopping by and setting up all of this as a passing thought until you met eyes with Jeno.
He stood wearing a black buttoned up top tucked into the jeans he had on. It was casual enough that you didn’t feel underdressed, having come home straight from work in jeans and a basic tank top you’d put under your work uniform.
“Hey.” He beamed, the same puppy-like way that you were used to but somehow now made your heart feel like it could burst any second.
You freeze for a moment. “What is all of this?”
“Dinner. Oh don’t worry, this is a recipe my family cook taught me how to make so it should be edible.” He jokes, grabbing onto your hand to lead you to your seat. You sit down, overwhelmed by the burst of emotions flowing through your chest, he sits ahead of you.
“Japchae?” He nods. “I would’ve cooked up something like steak but I thought maybe this was a safe bet.”
You pause for a moment, only this time he must notice the shift in your demeanor. “Are you okay?” He asks, a slight tone of fear in his voice, he must’ve thought you were upset.
“I’m just I don’t understand,” You say finally. “Why all of this for me?”
He doesn’t take a single second to think about it, “Because you deserve it.”
“But I'm not- I've never even had a date treat me like this,” You stammer.
He chuckles a response. “Y/N, because I wanted to. How’s that for a reason?”
You still don’t understand it fully. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, the previous being your mother who gifted you a custom typewriter for your sixth birthday, only this made zero sense. It wasn’t even your birthday.
There must be a hint of hesitance he picks up on, because in a second his hand is over yours in a comforting gesture. “If it helps, think of this as part of our rules. I’m trying to give you inspiration.”
Right, of course. That made perfect sense, why else would Jeno have gone all of his way to set up such a nice dinner like this. You offer a small smile, nodding as you reach for your chopsticks. “Okay, then let’s not let this go to waste.”
Jeno smiles, relieved.
Dinner went well as soon as the alcohol was brought out. One glass was enough to make your nerves disappear , the conversation between you stirring from small gossip he’d learned from Jaemin’s loud mouth to early memories the two of you remember from the first years of your friendships.
The japchae was more than just great you came to find out. Jeno could seriously have become a world class chef if he didn’t stick to his career now, speaking of which had only become way more demanding than ever. But he was happy, and you were even happier than he was. The man was a once in the lifetime talent, he deserved all of the love and recognition in the world.
“Neno,” you said suddenly. “It’s getting pretty late.”
He hums, “Yeah I’ll clean up and I can g—“
“No!” You scream shutting him up. “Stay. Please.”
He laughs, “Okay princess.”
“I’ll be back, just–” You’re suddenly shy, avoiding any eye contact with him. “I’m going to go clean up a bit, maybe after we can cuddle or something.” You hope he doesn’t make you explain more and just gets the memo. Luckily, he grins knowingly. “I’ll be back!” You shout as you run towards the bathroom.
You were never the shy type, but as you step outside of the shower, you feel an overwhelming amount of anxiousness. You slipped into a loose fitting shirt. One Jeno had left behind. He was lying down in your bed, scrolling on his phone until you entered. Jeno’s eyes turn to you, discarding whatever he’d been watching on his phone and sitting up straight on the edge of your bed.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he states with an expression that you could only describe as want, though it didn’t feel fitting enough.
“I hope that’s okay,” you answer, approaching him until you’re right where he sits. His hand comes up, brushing your cheek. You shiver despite his hand being warm and inviting.
“You’re breathtaking.”
You blush at the compliment, pulling his hand away from your face to move it to your hips, climbing on top of him swiftly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me—“
“Not for that, for everything else.”
“I meant it when I said you deserve it.”
You lean in, his breath catching as your lips connect to his. There’s a subtle desperation in the way he kisses back, where most of your kisses were fervent, this one was full of something more. No fight for dominance but rather a way of expressing your gratitude.
Jeno tugs at his shirt, lifting it off of your body. “Can I?” He asks, earning a nod from you before he’s flipping you onto the mattress. You’re laid completely bare, at least figuratively with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s undressing you with his eyes alone.
You have barely a second to catch your breath, Jeno’s lips trailing over your breasts as he unclasps your bra. You shudder, your chest laid naked as the cool air hits you.
“Fuck– Neno.” You moan as he takes your left breast into his mouth, his tongue flat over the sensitive nub. His hand comes up, palming your right breast, his thumb circling against your nipple.
You’re only growing needier with every second, every lick sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away, and you take the opportunity to pull him in for another kiss, this one heavier than the last. You button his shirt while he’s distracted, pulling it down and discarding it to the floor.
Jeno’s breathless as he pulls away, his eyes full of want. “Can I taste you?”
You nod, and he’s kissing you again. His hand moving to slide your panties off. He reacts in an instant, leaving kisses down your stomach until he’s face to face with your needy cunt.
His breath fanning over your folds, driving you insane with every second he spends refusing to take action. “Please,” you whine. He snaps out of whatever haze he’d been in, his tongue tracing against your folds that leaves you panting.
Your legs fight to close, his hand keeping them stretched open enough for him to continue lapping at your juices in peace. You call his name, moans growing louder as he presses closer against you, his nose pressing against your clit.
Your hands are moving before you can stop them, reaching out to tug on his hair. He moans into your pussy, the sound traveling through you evoking you to moan.
You cry out, twitching around his tongue as he begins to fuck you with the muscle. Your juices mixed with his spit sliding down his chin in a beautiful mess.
His name trails off of your lips like a melody. The sound meshing with the loud squelches of him devouring you. He pulls away, substituting his tongue for his digits.
“Oh my– nghh Neno—“ You can feel tears threatening to spill. The pace of his fingers fucking you rough as he sucks your clit. He continues to fuck his fingers into you, curling them to hit your pleasure point directly. Your legs squeezing around his head as you cum with one last cry of his name.
He laps up your fluids, his nose pressing against your sensitive clit with how messy he is. “Jeno baby, please,” you beg, the overstimulation getting to you. He doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to lick against your folds until you're dragging him to look at you.
His hair is a mess with how much your hands tugged at the strands. He meets your gaze, his lips and chin wet with you, pupils completely dilated. “I’m sorry baby.”
You shake your head, tugging at him to come back up. When he does you’re kissing him, sucking on his tongue to taste more of yourself. He groans into your mouth, pulling away to let out a gasp. “Fuck.”
Your brows furrow, meeting his eyes where he looks down at himself, a small wet patch visible through his pants. He just came untouched from eating you out. A burst of pride shoots through you, drawing you to kiss at him again.
“You’re so fucking hot, can I please take these off of you?” You ask, batting your lashes.
“When you ask like that, who am I to say no?”
You smile, unbuckling his pants and rushing to rip them off of him like the fabric was life threatening. Your hand palms against him, his size growing with the slightest touch of yours.
He’s holding back a groan when you start sucking at his neck, leaving hickeys on display for everyone to see. For everyone to know that he’s yours.
He helps you take off his boxers, another piece of fabric meeting your floor. He's fully erect, the thick muscle hitting against his abdomen with a slap. Your mouth waters at the sight, taking in his size with your eyes and zeroing in on the thick vein that runs along the shaft.
You suck in a breath, envisioning how nice it would be to feel him inside your mouth, his hand forcing your head down until your gagging as he fucks your face. That would have to do another time, for now, you wanted nothing more but to feel him in your guts.
“You like what you see?”
“Corny.” You answer, earning a chuckle from him before he’s pecking your lips again.
“You love me.”
He says it so casually, yet it still makes you feel weak in the knees. “And other things.”
Jeno lines up to your entrance, knocking your breath out of you as he sinks into you. The squeeze is tight, but it’s not unbearable. He’s giving you a few seconds to adjust until you nod at him to continue.
The first thrust is enough to pull a loud moan from your lips, your hands coming around his back to steady yourself. It’s obscene, his hips slapping against your thighs as he drills into you over and over again.
You can already feel pressure start to build up again, your nails digging into his skin drawing a curse from his lips.
“It feels that good, baby?”
“Neno– please please don’t stop—“
“I won't princess.” He says before fucking into you faster, this time his lips swallowing your moans as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Your body feels light, consumed by the feeling of him. You’re crying, you can taste the saltiness of your tears as he kisses you through it.
He must tell you’re close because his hand goes down to rub against your clit, the circular motion sending you close to the edge.
“Come on princess, let go for me baby.”
With those final words you’re clamping down around him, your orgasm flooding down your thighs only producing a wetter sound as he continues to pistol into you. His thrusts grow sloppier until he’s finally reached his own climax. His cum spurting into you, filling you up.
Your words are barely coherent, voice wrecked with all of the screaming you did. You’d have to bake a few apology cookies and offer them to your unlucky neighbors. Jeno kisses around your face, cooing you until your tears stop, his final kiss being one to your lips.
You open your eyes, his own meeting you with what you could only assume was fear, but quickly disappearing just as it happened shifting to one of… you couldn’t tell.
The previous you who had felt bare had nothing on you now. Because even as Jeno pulled out, his cum dripping down into the sheets, you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach.
Something had changed.
Part Four:
Heart-shaped box
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno was in a funk. Ever since the date he set up he felt insane. Something was different, he knew it deep down. It wasn’t an obvious fact, you had continued to text him like normal, even sending him dress options for the wedding he had sprung onto you so late.
You didn’t mind, casually sending him your finds from shopping trips you went on with Shuhua. He took in a sharp breath every time you sent him a picture, his lungs felt like they would collapse at any moment with how great you looked. Though it was mostly you, even showing up to the wedding with your hand around his arm would provoke that reaction from him.
He imagined it now, you being so close to him as he introduces you to his family. A smile on your face and a light blush because as much as you were a confident speaker you would probably still feel nervous to meet his parents at such an important event.
Jeno got that same weird feeling in his stomach, covering his face so the rest of the guys wouldn’t see.
“Yo are you good” Mark asks, “Your face is all red, you're not sick or anything right?”
“He could be because you can’t help but keep the fucking air conditioner on all through out the night!” Donghyuck argues. Mark rolls his eyes.
“Jeno isn’t sick,” Jaemin moves the back of his hand to check Jeno’s temperature. “Yup not sick.”
“I’m fine guys, really.”
“I don’t think so, you’ve been spacing out a bit lately.” Donghyuck sing songs, “kind of like when Jisung was heartbroken and slumping around like a kicked puppy.”
“I don’t think I was that bad,” jisung replies, earning a “you were” from everyone else.
“Seriously I’m just thinking a lot lately.”
“Wait like really?” That seems to get the group's attention, they get closer, gathering around him like a kettle of vultures.
“You say that like I’m an idiot.”
“An idiot no—“ “debatable.” Donghyuck starts, earning a scowl from Jeno to which he hides behind Mark. “You aren’t one to think about things too much, you're level headed like that.” Jaemin finishes his thought.
“Yeah hyung, so no offense but it’s a once in a lifetime experience to see you act so–“ Jisung contemplates, “so lost.”
Jeno wasn't sure when any of them had caught onto any of that but apparently they did. He really wasn't the type to open up, but there was a time for anything. “Okay yeah, I guess it’s just a lot of changes lately.”
“Go on.”
And so he did. Jeno went on to explain every detail of yours and his arrangement, well the ones that mattered, up until now. The date, the sex, the way he couldn’t help but feel like he was stuck in a Train going down a different path than he ever expected yet he wasn't even mad about it.
“Oh my gosh,” Jaemin squeals. “I knew you were both meant to be!”
“Great going Jeno, I owe him five dollars now I hope you're happy."
“What?” Jeno asks.
“Jaemin did always say he had a gut feeling that you and Y/N would end up together,” Mark agreed. “That bet lasted shorter than expected though.”
“I think you’re confused,” Jeno starts. “It’s not like that. Me and Y/N are just friends with benefits.”
“Right and the benefits include date nights, home cooked meals, and life altering sex after?” Donghyuck taunts. Jisung makes a look of disgust at the last part.
“As much as I don’t think the last part was necessary,” Donghyuck shrugs. “I do agree. That's not at all what friends with benefits do.”
Jeno isn’t sure what to say. Was he at fault for this sudden shift? It felt like he was, but then again you didn’t seem to act like anything was wrong either. Maybe the guys were being dramatic. Jaemin looks at him like he knows what Jeno is trying to do.
“Answer this one thing,” Jaemin starts. “Do you feel your heart beat a little faster around her?”
Jeno nods.
“And when you think about her. What about then?”
Jeno felt the blood creep up his neck. How the hell would Jaemin be able to tell that.
“Think about it Jeno, it shouldn’t be that hard.”
Jeno frowns. Could he be… no. There’s no way. But then he thinks back to you, your contagious laughs and smiles.
Oh.
“What does this mean now?”
“Well you’ve already got the grand gestures down, loverboy.”
“This time, just add the confession.” Jisung adds.
☆ 📚 ☆
Time had gone by quicker than you’d thought. The continuous dress shopping leading up to this exact moment. You had packed up well, joining Jeno in road-tripping to Jeju island. It consisted mainly of sleeping, singing along to music completely off key, and feeding Jeno snacks while he drove.
You hadn’t felt the subtle shift in the area around each other, not when every time you looked away he made sure to keep his eyes on you until he couldn’t.
The wedding was in the afternoon. A ceremony that would end with a sunset. This made for really good inspiration for the third part in your book series, so you made sure to make a mental note of it.
You changed into your dress, hidden in one of the hotel’s rooms as Jeno got ready with the rest of his immediate family. You felt nervous, the outfit fitting way more exposed than you were used to.
“Y/N! Can I come in?”
“Uh, yes!” Seulgi walks in, a bright smile on her face as she does. “I didn’t think you’d have time to stop by and do anything.”
“Yeah well, I promised Jeno I would check in on you,” She gives you a look over, “You look beautiful.”
You blush, “No of course not, you look great.”
“I do, don’t I.” She does a bit of a twirl, the sleek yet elegant white gown hardly moving except for the flared fabric at the bottom.
You’d never imagined a life of marriage for you, but seeing Seulgi look so bright and happy made you second guess. Perhaps there could be someone to change that? Perhaps even–
“Jeno’s waiting outside. I’m going to go set myself up for pictures before the ceremony begins.” She gives you one last nod. “I’m glad you came.”
You offer a smile in return, “Thank you for inviting me.”
You had unfortunately not been able to catch Jeno before the ceremony began, sitting on the outskirts as the family sat front row to Seulgi, as did her wife’s family in the opposite direction. Jeno had made sure that even with the distance, at any opportunity he would look at you.
Goosebumps rising on your body with the way he looked into your eyes so sure. And with every vow spoken, it almost felt like he meant it to you. You had to take a breath the second it ended, being pulled by one of Jeno’s cousins who had claimed you as her new best friend. She dragged you towards the drinks, offering you a glass of champagne that you held onto.
Beyond the live orchestra that you were sure you would only live to see once in your lifetime, there was nothing but cheers for the happy couple. You were a bit too invested to have noticed Jeno sneak behind you, his hand tapping on your shoulder.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you how beautiful you look.” He says, staring at you with a quiet longing you didn't pick up on.
“You can tell me now,” You tease.
He chuckles, his hand hesitating for a moment before it finds its way around your waist, pulling you closer as his lips graze your ear. “Youre the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” You don’t even get the chance to reply, the words falling flat on your tongue.
“What an honor it is to meet you.”
You look up to see the same woman who had stood up on stage before, Mrs. Lee. The musical genius in the flesh. Jeno, quickly moving to give the two of you space to talk, though remaining close enough.
You bow quickly, a perfect ninety degrees. “No, it's an honor to meet you. Your work is truly inspiring, I tell Jeno everyday just how lucky he is to have a mother so efficient and hardworking.”
She brightens, “Do you study music as well?”
“No ma’am, unfortunately I’m tone deaf but I appreciate it all the much more.” You reply shyly. “I’m a writer.”
“Ah,” Her smile widens, “That’s beautiful. I am quite fond of authors myself, please do tell me what you happen to write?”
“I’m only now starting, but if all things go to plan I should have my first novel released soon.” You nod, looking at Jeno who hadn’t once let go of his hold on your waist. As if sensing it, his mother turns attention to the area, smirking playfully.
“Well I do wish to own a copy once it does release, and Jeno.” She beckons her son. “Do bring her again more often, I think the two of you make the perfect pair.”
She apologies, stepping back into the celebration. You feel like a weight was lifted off of your chest, somehow wanting nothing more than the woman’s approval.
“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. How do I even talk about my book with her when you inspired half of it.”
Jeno laughs, “I don’t think she minds. She knows more than she lets on, she just likes for people to introduce themselves anyway.”
Your eyes widen, "You're saying she probably has a hundred page long history on my entire existence?”
“A hundred pages sure sounds humble,” he jokes.
“Neno!”
“I know, I'm only joking.” His hand comes up to smooth over your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his hold, breathing in the subtle hint of wood from the cologne he must’ve put on as he got ready. “Can I show you somewhere?”
“That sounds like something a murderer would say,” He sighs and despite your heart thundering you continue. “But yes.”
The first thing you notice is how silent it is besides the waves crashing into the sand. The entire property had been closed off, a subtle flex Jeno hadn’t intended when he told you about the place on the drive over. It was dark despite the fairy lights hanging off the building, the only real lighting coming from the full moon that was cast up above you.
You think of all of the possibilities that could come about in your book. Every piece of inspiration coming from the past few months up until this moment. Only you knew it couldn’t continue this way, not with how risky it became. Not when you realized just by looking at Jeno in his suit, laughing with the rest of his family just how easy it would be to get used to this. To crave more.
“Do you like this place?”
“I love it.” You speak carefully, suddenly overwhelmed with how comfortable the silence was between you two. You're not sure when your chest became so heavy, or when breathing felt like a pierced blade to your chest.
“Princess.” Jeno calls you, and you wish you could answer him but you just can’t. He must’ve repeated himself again, because the next second he’s at your side forcing you to look into his eyes.
And even with the rough lighting and the blurry vision, he still took away every last bit of your sanity. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
You can tell he’s stressed, and you aren’t even sure when you started to cry but here you were with your makeup probably ruined, struggling to catch a breath. When did it become so hard to look at him without feeling like the world was crumbling beneath you? When did his pure existence have such profound meaning to you? No, that you could answer, because even a panic attack couldn’t take away from the fact that you loved Lee Jeno.
“I–“ You try to speak, only embarrassing yourself as you choke up on the words, warm tears spilling down your face.
“Hey, look at me. It’s okay, we’re okay.”
No, everything was not okay. You had fucked up the only rule that really mattered. You had done yourself the worst by falling in love with him.
“Y/N.” He’s clearly worried, though he masks it well enough. You look up at him, “I’m sorry, I made the rules myself and I couldn’t even follow them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I– no. I know it now. I’m in love with you.” You close your eyes refusing to look at him. “I didn’t mean to, and I know this is so sudden and you don’t feel the same at all but I just—“
You never get the chance to finish your sentence. His lips come crashing into yours, the same passion from the kiss you’d shared only nights before. He’s pouring every ounce of a love confession to you, hoping it will be enough to clear your mind of any doubts you had that he wasn’t yearning for your love.
He’s the oxygen you need to breathe. That’s your first thought when he pulls away. “I was supposed to be the one to tell you first.” He whispers.
“Then maybe you should’ve said it sooner,” You taunt, his thumb tracing over your tear stained cheeks.
He frowns, “I promise I was going to. It just took me a bit longer to realize.”
You gasp, feigning offense. “Wow, here I am pouring my heart out to you and instead you let me embarrass myself!”
“It’s not embarrassing to see you cry, you’re pretty even when you do.”
You hope it’s dark enough for him not to notice how flustered you are. “Don’t use flattery to get out of this!”
“Oh?” He pokes at your cheek. “But you seem to enjoy it a lot.”
He closes the distance, pecking the corner of your lips that results in a bashful smile from you. “Don’t worry, you have the rest of our lives to get used to my compliments.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re madly in love with me?”
“I think the kiss established that earlier. But yes Y/N, and I’d love for you to be my girlfriend too.”
“Ah,” you contemplate. “What are the benefits?”
“Everything we’ve done the past few months and more, you just got to experience the free trial.”
You shove at him playfully. “Then I gladly accept.” You say, and before he can give a snarky response you’re pulling him closer. Closing the distance between the two of you to share a kiss, this time as lovers.
Epilogue
Scary Love
It was Déjà vu. You sat anxiously in the same office you’d been in before. Only this time, you were confident that Shuhua wouldn’t turn you away, oh and of course the fingers you had been fiddling with happened to be of the man sitting right beside you.
Shuhua sets the papers down, her expression flat.
“So?” You grow more anxious, biting your bottom lip.
“I’ll let the graphic design department begin searching for an artist to go along with your cover art.” Your eyes widen. “It's wonderful.”
You jump up, dragging Jeno up on his own feet to celebrate with a hug. He smiles, not at all minding the fact that you’d just manhandled him.
You turn and face Shuhua then, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes. “Shuhua!”
“Don’t cry you big baby, you were always going to make it, you just needed more time.” She smiles, pulling you in for a short hug. “I’m proud of you y/n.”
“How am I not supposed to cry when you say things like that!”
The two of them laugh at you as you hug Jeno, hiding your face in his shirt. “I told you she’d love it.” Jeno says, patting your back. You look up at him, “It’s really thanks to you.”
He chuckles, “Thanks princess, but I wasn’t the one who wrote it.”
“Ah but you're the one who inspired it all!” You tease him, “Maybe I should add you as a co-writer.”
“Mhmm I’m sure my fans would be taken aback.”
“I don’t think they’d mind. Lee Jeno is known for being multiskilled after all.”
“Don’t you guys have places to be,” Shuhua groans. “I heard you booked a sold out show.”
“Oh right!” You exclaim, “we should really get going, don't want to keep anyone waiting.”
“Right, go on and leave! Take your puppy with you!”
Oblivion had really reached new heights of popularity, they’d been working so hard these past few months working on pushing out a full album that you had almost forgotten how your boyfriend looked. You giggle at the thought, you were Lee Jeno’s girlfriend.
The fans quickly took a liking to you, with how loud and relatable your personality was. They’d even spotted the two of you on a date (if you can call grocery shopping that) not too long ago, asking for a picture with Jeno that you quickly agreed to. Jeno, as humble as ever, had gushed at their compliments. And when the fan suddenly turned to you asking if they could also have a picture, Jeno was way too quick to take fifty of them.
Things were great, even with the busy schedules between the two of you, you made sure to make time to go to his shows.
“Guys, we’re going to need you on stage in the next ten minutes.” Chenle, Oblivion’s new manager, reminded everyone.
“Yes sir!” Mark saluted the man, “You heard him guys, hurry up.”
“I’m going to miss you.” You pout, running your hands over your boyfriend's forearm.
“Don’t be silly, I’m going to be looking right at you.”
“I don’t think the fans will appreciate that.”
“No they will,” Darling adds into your conversation. “They’ll add it to your cutest couple moments compilations.”
“You sound like you know them so well.”
“She has secret chat rooms with them,” Donghyuck squints at darling. “Where else would they have gotten those pictures of me and Jaemin.”
Jaemin wrapped an arm around the tan man. “Nope, all me.”
You laugh at the two of them, Jeno’s arms wrapping around you and he snuggles into your neck. “Do you want to come up on stage later?”
“Neno you know I can’t.”
“You can if it’s an encore,” he sighs. He really does look like such a puppy when he makes those eyes. “Please baby.”
You couldn’t say no to him. “Fine.”
He smiles, pulling you in for a short and sweet kiss that's partially interrupted by Chenle stopping by again to shout, "Five more minutes!”
“You guys are kind of disgusting.” Jisung scowls but from where he has his head laying to rest on darling’s shoulder.
“You say that, but need we remind you of the heinous acts the two of you got up to before our show?” Jeno threatens the couple with a smile on his face.
They match each other’s beet red. The rest of the band turned to laugh at the pair, teasing the couple further. That reminded you.
“Neno,” You ask. “Have you ever considered red hair?”
By the time the last song ended the crowd pushed for more, which meant that you could make do of your promise to your boyfriend. Security allowed for you to pass through and onto the stage, Jeno capturing your entire body the second you got close. “I missed you.”
“I thought you said you’d be looking right at me.”
“Yeah but that only made me miss you more.”
The band, as per fan request, chose to perform their final song again, this time with a twist. Jisung was to take over lead vocals as the rest of them swapped instruments, safe for Jeno who instead had to direct you to play for him.
You sat on his lap, a bright smile on your face that was battling the stage lights. You’d never felt happier, you think, sitting with Jeno. A part of it scared you, not knowing what could come out of this. You hadn’t ever expected to be living as one of your novels, but here was the man in front of you willing to give you your happy ending. Loving you so openly despite his similar fears.
“Here,” he gives you a drum stick. You accept holding onto it as his bigger hand wraps around yours. “Follow my lead.” He brings the stick down, hitting the snare with light force. Not enough to have you jumping off of him but enough for you to squeal in shock.
His laughs fill your ears despite the heavy music and crowd. And as you turn back barely able to look straight into his eyes, you find him already looking into yours. This time with an expression you find easy to recognize with how much you love him too.
You realize it then, you’d follow his lead anywhere.
࣪𖤐 the end ── ★ ̟
FINAL NOTES: This one was so much less angsty than the other one and I was scared if that would affect the readers experience but my beta reader said that both stories were on par with one another… Anyway i’m happy to write more of these two in the next part.. Donghyuck biases i hope ur excited!!
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synopsis. she swears he's the most infuriatingly, sparkly person around — too bright and positively suffocating. But for Jaemin? He's intrigued by her; the gloomy princess frog who he wishes to befriend.
warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, use of pet name (baby, cutie, etc.), unprotected sex, almost getting caught, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, really fluffy.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ A/N: the speed in which I got this out was crazy. I also wanted to thank all of you guys for the love, I'm quite the perfectionist when it comes to my writing, but seeing how well they've been received so far makes me incredibly happy. ily all 💞
Na Jaemin was the heartthrob. If someone plucked him out of a drama, it would be Boys Over Flowers — except he was the flower. Everything about him was charming, endearing, and effervescent. It was almost blinding. Sickening. She'd place bets he threw up rainbows and unicorns, no doubt consuming Lucky Charms sprinkled with stardust for breakfast.
Which is exactly why she avoided him like the plague.
She was an irritable shadow, afraid of being incinerated and consumed by the ebullient sun. Always grumbling and scowling whenever she came into the vicinity of his stupidly wide, toothy grin, paired with that obnoxiously loud laugh.
"You're stabbing at your food," a soft, amused voice cut through the loud chatter of the cafeteria, "Should I be worried that you're also giving me the death glare?"
Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him. She hated how well he held eye-contact, and she wasn't going to lose the little battles before the war. So, she sends him a scowl as a response, her dark, frizzy hair puffing up like a lion's mane.
Jaemin was intrigued by her. She was the only person who would never smile back, never say anything more than a few words to him. As if dealing with him, or people in general, sucked out her limited supply of energy.
Jaemin sits down next to her, his arm brushing against hers with the protection of her thick, knit sweater, "We're supposed to choose our pairs for the science project, wanna work together?"
She let out a scoff, side-eyeing him for the sheer audacity of asking something so absurd, "No," She replies flatly, munching on her cafeteria food that suddenly tasted like slop in his presence.
He raised an amused brow, smile never faltering. Honestly, she would pay good money to see him not smiling for once, "Come on, why not? You're smart and I'm... kinda smart. We'd make a good team! I've even come up with possible names for our duo," he clears his throat as if preparing a proposal for Shark Tank, "sun and moon, yin and yang, Princess and The Frog..."
"Princess?" She scoffs.
"Yeah, I'll be the princess and you can be the fro-," she grumbles under her breath, standing up with her tray and moving to another empty table. Jaemin was unfazed, unfortunately, and followed her casually as if she'd asked to move together.
"Stop following me," Y/N huffed, nestling into her purple sweater as she continued to stab at her food. She could see Jaemin's group of friends watching like vigilant vultures from the corner of her eye.
Haechan, the cocky, intimidating star student — or would be star student if he weren't so lazy. Chenle, the real crazy rich Asian, often coming to school with something designer. And Renjun, the angry artist who she often wondered how he fit in such a group, being as he seemed like the only normal person there.
She could almost hear their judgment, confused on why Jaemin spent almost every lunchtime circling around the grouchy loner.
Jaemin chuckled, slotting into the chair next to her, to which she nudged her chair to the side, trying to get as far away from him as physically possible, even down to the atoms, "it's either I work with you or Jisung... and I don't want to work with him."
Her eyes met his, glaring in a way Jaemin would call cute, strangely, "Not my problem."
Jaemin pokes at her arm, giggling when she jumps, startled, "But whyyy. That guy would be scared at the sight of a bunsen burner, that's not even on, mind you."
"Again, not my problem."
Jaemin pouted, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he let his soft gaze flick over her features. He had a horrible habit of keeping his eyes locked on people's lips, even more so when they spoke. But, from up close, his appearance matched the mix of a doe and a rabbit with his long, fluttering lashes and big, round eyes.
She hated deers and rabbits.
"Would it be your problem if we were friends?" Jaemin asked suddenly. Everything about his voice to his gaze were genuine. He meant every word, and that scared her.
She froze, grip tightening on her cutlery as she slowly met his watching eyes, "Friends?"
"Friends," Jaemin added, "I want us to be friends. You're nice."
She snorted. For the first time, she actually made a sound close enough to be a laugh and Jaemin, startled, looked at her like a deer caught in headlights. As if a UFO had landed right in front of him and aliens stepped out wearing chicken suits, "You're delusional."
"Delusional or not, I made you laugh. Even more of a reason for us to be friends, I'm a good influence on you," Jaemin teased. Immediately, her expression faltered.
The sun was obnoxiously loud, and infuriatingly cocky.
The sun was, indeed, loud.
When she woke up this morning, she never would have guessed how horrible today would be. Not until Jaemin raised his hand incredibly high and chirped to the science teacher, "Y/N and I would like to be partners!"
If looks could kill, Jaemin would be shot dead on Earth, stopped before he got to the pearly white gates; his soul extracted into a minuscule bottle, crushed and thrown into the deepest, tenebrous voids before he even had a chance at getting reincarnated.
She sighed, loudly. She could hear people whispering, their watchful gaze flicking between the pair. Jaemin was as smiley as ever, his eyes little crescents as he skipped over to her, flower petals trailing behind him like some spring-happy leprechaun.
Y/N placed her bag on the one free seat next to her, and Jaemin pouted just as he got to her table, "Hey, is that how you treat your partner?"
She couldn't even spare him a glance, not with her seething, "I told you, I didn't want to be your partner."
Jaemin shrugs, placing his books on the table and pulls out a separate chair to sit in front of her — all without complaint or a twitching smile. He could tell she was mad at him, he wasn't a fool. Usually, she'd be boring burning hot holes into his skin with her piercing glare, though now, she kept her eyes on her science book, not sparing him a glance.
He was cautious with his movements, watching her as he sat right in front, just close enough to smell the soft hint of lavender from her jumper. He didn't want to scare her off or build the tension further so, he did the next best thing he could think of.
Digging into his bag, he pulls out his phone and wired earphones, ones he carried with him for years. It was to anyone's amazement how they lasted so long. He scrolls through his playlist, trying to find anything that was calming enough and, when he does, he grins to himself, leaning over to place one bud into her ear.
Her eyes snapped to his, his finger still pressed to the earbud to stop her from snatching it out so quickly, but that meant he was closer than he had ever been. She couldn't help but to notice those dark eyes that reflected the glittering ceiling lights as his warm, gentle and hesitant breath brushed her dewy skin, "What are you-"
"Just... I know you don't want to talk to me right now so, let's listen to some music together. Just this once," his smile was softer now, eyes trained on her with a hint of nervousness.
When Jaemin realised she wasn't making a move to yank the earphones out, he slowly retracted his hand, letting the music play. Surprisingly, the song was calming and sweet — a stark contrast to the energiser bunny who sat in front of her, grinning like a madman just at her tolerating his presence.
Jaemin confused her. She couldn't understand how someone could be so... sunshine and rainbows. Just looking at him was exhausting, feeling the corners of her lips burn at the simple thought of grinning twenty four hours of every day. He may as well have had more muscles on his lips than she had in her arms.
"You're always smiling," she mutters, scribbling random doodles into her science book, not caring if it affects the presentation. She felt herself calming a little from the music alone.
Jaemin nods slowly, looking through their worksheet for the experiment they had to do over the course of the week, "Is that a bad thing?"
It felt like that question alone stumped her. It wasn't that smiling was a bad thing, but with Jaemin, it always felt forced — maintaining the good boy image. She scoffs lightly, "It's annoying."
He only laughs at that, leaning in closer as his voice turns to a whisper, "So, if I smiled less, you'd tolerate me more?"
Her confused look had Jaemin smiling at her like a fool, trying to see how far he could push as he pulled away, "Tolerate me enough to become friends, I mean. You didn't give me an answer yesterday either."
"Thought it was an obvious no," she takes the spare worksheet and starts filling in the equipment they'd need and the correct order of steps.
Jaemin lets out a sudden, obnoxiously loud "wow" at the sight of the work she had done in a mere five minutes. He snatches it from the desk, his thumbs digging into the edges of the paper as he held it up in amazement, lips puckered in an exaggerated 'O', before his gaze flicked to her, always searching for a hint of a reaction, "I don't think we will need a whole week to get this experiment done. At least, not with you as my partner."
"Don't get used to it. You're pulling your own weight for this project," Y/N mumbles, snatching the worksheet out of his hands, her fingers brushing his in the process. She flinches slightly at the contact, and Jaemin doesn't let it slide, his smile sneakily widening.
"Well too late. I'm already naming my future children after you."
She stares at him with a deadpanned expression, "You're so weird."
"Thank you," he beams.
There's a long silence after that. She quietly observes Jaemin, whose lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, smile softening as he chooses another song on his playlist, humming along to it. Then, her gaze drops to the paper again.
"Are you serious about being friends?" she asks softly, not looking up, voice so low he almost doesn't hear it.
He stops humming, "Yeah, I am."
Y/N finally looks up, and Jaemin's not smiling this time, clearly serious.
She considers it. Actually weighs the pros and cons of being friends with the sun which, if she hadn't known any better, would only repeat Icarus' story, where her wax wings would melt if she got too close, "Don't expect me to tell you my favourite colour or make friendship bracelets out of loom bands with you."
Jaemin's smile slowly returns, as if he's waiting for her to change her mind, "That's okay, you can start by telling me what you hate most about me."
She snorts, "As if there's enough time for that in a day."
"Perfect," he sends her his classic toothy grin, "Guess I have more of an excuse to hang around you for longer, then."
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, illuminating the multi-coloured shelves filled with snacks and bold coloured stickers with deals peppered along the products. It had smelled faintly of overripe bananas, cheap detergent, and air freshener — the familiar scent of your standard convenience stores. Jaemin had wandered the snack aisle on a lazy evening, indecisively scouring the 2-for-1 promotions. He was low on energy after spending the whole afternoon playing football against his will. Though, he was somewhat grateful it wasn't basketball this time, thanks to Chenle going on some last minute holiday.
All thoughts screeched to a halt while he was scanning for some snacks, seeing her behind the till. She wore the stores' basic, bright blue apron, the collar of the white undershirt slightly crooked, and an upside-down name tag pinned to her chest which gave more than enough away that she was in a rush to get to her shift. But most of all, she was smiling at the elderly woman in front of her, offering a genuine laugh when the lady made a joke he could barely make out.
Her laugh was so pretty to him. Despite it being awkward, tethering on deep yet with a sweet lilt... It was so unique, so adorable and something he wished he could hear over and over again, like a broken record.
He couldn't get over that smile, either. It brightened up her face and made her even more gorgeous than she already was. His eyes were locked on the soft and slightly shy grin, tugging up on one side. He had never seen her like that before, but he was already obsessed, his heart clenching as a sudden cuteness aggression overcame him.
The moment she noticed him walking towards the register with a basket of snacks, however, her expression had snapped back into its usual stormy cloud, the corners of her lips sinking into a scowl. Jaemin stifled a laugh as he set his snacks down on the counter.
"Hey," he whined, yet his voice was as bright and sunny as always, "I'm a customer too, where's my smile?"
"What are you doing here, Jaemin?" she grumbled, already scanning the items with speedy efficiency, clearly wanting to get rid of him.
"I came to see you," He let the sentence hang just long enough between them before correcting himself, "Actually... I just wanted some snacks."
She glanced at the box of Lucky Charms he placed on the counter —bright and completely childlike, just like him. She blinked before letting out a soft giggle, the sound barely audible, but loud enough for Jaemin to catch it. He felt butterflies going haywire in the pits of his stomach.
"You seriously eat this shi- stuff?"
"Religiously," he replied, smirking, "I'm convinced it really is sprinkled with some magical form of luck."
"Oh yeah, and what have you been lucky with?" she muttered, slipping the items into a plastic bag.
"You," he added with a grin. There was no hesitation in the way he had said it, especially with that stupid, shit-eating grin and the mischievous light in his eyes. But she forced her expression to remain neutral, even when a string of curses sat on the tip of her tongue.
The occasional beep of items being scanned and the quiet chatter of the other customers in the back had filled the silence between them. Jaemin leaned back and forth, raising an amused brow at her, cocky from having gotten to her in some way.
"I didn't know you worked here," he said finally, trying to fill in the silence and not wanting this moment with her to end so soon.
Y/N shrugged, adjusting the strap of her apron as she suddenly started to feel awkward, "It's... just part-time. Pays for things like snacks. But I never get to eat them because I have to smile at people like you all day."
He grinned wider, ignoring her slight jab, "So you do smile."
"God, you're annoying," she groans, packing the last of the items and gesturing to the till for him to pay.
Jaemin only smirks wider, tapping his card until a beep resounded in the shop, "And you're blushing."
"I am not-"
"Oh, you definitely are, but this would surely make you blush more...," He leans in, grabbing the plastic bag out of her hands, fingers barely brushing, as he whispered against the shell of her ear, "you're cuter when you smile."
Her hands stilled slightly as she let go of the bag as if they were opposites on either side of a magnet.
He held her gaze for a moment, before pulling away, "Thanks for the snacks."
"Don't come here again," Y/N grumbled.
Jaemin stepped back towards the automatic doors which kept trying to close, blocking the path of some customers as he smiled like a fool at her, as usual. She hated how he made her feel in this moment, and she could swear her heart had beat louder than the generic pop music which played in the shop. Maybe she would blame the fact that he was someone who does eat lucky charms. But his next words cut through her thoughts as he stifled a laugh before leaving, "No promises, cutie."
And, for some strange reason, that word didn't make her internally gag.
The cafeteria was in a state of a mess; chaotic noise and clattering trays, loud, overlapping conversations, and the sharp screeching of metal chairs. The air had smelt faintly of overcooked pasta and whatever they had tried to pass off as food today — what students would call radioactive slop. But not one table was as loud as the one Jaemin was sat on with his friends.
"I'm telling you, she's the cutest girl around. Like- Haechan, stop laughing, I'm being serious!" Jaemin glares daggers at the male who was barely keeping still on his chair.
"Yeah, I bet. I'd also bet she hexed you," Haechan, who sat across from Jaemin, wipes away a stray tear, followed by a sigh as he calmed down from his burst of laughter.
Renjun sat next to Haechan, nudging him with the pristine sleeve of his blazer. He had always kept a clean-cut appearance where not even a tiny drop of paint ever landed on his attire, "If Jaemin likes her, who cares? I will be judging though, but from the sidelines."
Jaemin grumbles, pushing his half-eaten tray away from him as he crossed his arms, "You guys are assholes. What happened to being happy for me?"
Chenle chirps in, glancing at the woman who was the focus of their conversation sat a few tables down on her own. He jabs a finger into the table, a classic Chenle move whenever he had a 'valid' point to make, eyebrows raised with passion, "You guys are like... the complete opposites of each other. She would definitely steal all your light. Well- on second thought, that's probably a good thing, maybe you'd finally be somewhat bearable to be around."
Jaemin rolls his eyes, stuffing a spoonful of rice and munching it in irritation, "Look, if you actually spoke to her, you'd see that there is more to her. She actually smiles too, and it's so adorable, plus-"
Haechan side-eyes Jaemin; partly for speaking with a mouthful of food, and the other for simping over her of all people, "Don't tell me you're already pussy-whipped when you've only spoken to her once."
Jaemin's mouth drops in shock, "Once?! I've spoken to her like... three, four times?"
Haechan snorts, resting his hands behind his head, sprawling lazily out on the chair, "Might as well have been once. You can count it on one hand. You barely know her."
"Well, I know her better than you guys do, so why are we judging so hard?" Jaemin snaps, and his friends suddenly grow silent and tense. It was unlike the usually sunny male to get angry or irritated. His jaw was clenched as he dropped his metal chopsticks on the tray, the clatter loud.
Renjun clears his throat awkwardly, looking around the table, his brows furrowed softly as he met Jaemin's gaze, "You... do know why everyone avoids her though, don't you?"
Jaemin pauses, eyes flicking to his friend. Something in Renjun's tone makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, the tension, paired with worry, simmering.
"What do you mean?" he asks suspiciously, his voice quiet and brows furrowing.
Renjun shifts in his seat, shrugging, "Just… she's not exactly friendly. People say she snapped at teachers, ditched group projects, cursed out that senior last year-"
"She cursed at him because he was mocking her in front of everyone," Jaemin cuts in sharply, his leg bouncing under the table in frustration, "And the group projects... Maybe no one ever wanted to work with her. She had always been a target of stupid jokes. Besides, how is any of that a big deal?"
The table falls quiet again and Chenle raises a brow and puts his hands up in surrender, trying to lighten the mood, "Okay, damn. Someone is ready to fight for her honour."
Jaemin huffs, "No- Look I'm just saying... people love to talk. Don't you think she's just tired of all these assholes?"
Haechan whistles lowly, "Okay, our knight in shining armour, should we start planning the wedding?"
"Shut up," Jaemin mutters, his cheeks flushed pink, "I already did."
The lab was meant to be quiet except, Jaemin was being clumsy with the equipment. The glass beakers kept clinking against each other, and it was surprising how they hadn't smashed into pieces with his large hands. It was only them in the lab, away from the bustling lunch hall, and it was supposed to be them finishing off the experiment before they had to type up their conclusions. However, working with Jaemin was proving to be a separate challenge.
Y/N tugged her sleeves up her arms in frustration as she kept glaring at him and giving him orders. But Jaemin found her to appear less reserved when she wasn't surrounded by others — still sharp around the cute edges, but not enough to make a man cower.
"Put the beaker down slowly," she said, eyeing the glass nervously as Jaemin finished pouring the solution into a separate beaker, "I swear to God if you shatter another one-"
"Relax," Jaemin chuckled, mocking offence as he set it down with exaggerated grace, gesturing to it in celebration. She forgot he had arms that could squash a coconut in one go, panicking at the sight of him handling fragile equipment. But his cockiness worried her even further, "I have the hands of a pianist."
She side-eyed him with a slight look of surprise, "You play the piano?"
"No, but I could," he wiggles his fingers, "with these sexy hands."
She rolled her eyes, but he caught the subtle twitch of her lips before she turned away to fetch the other materials.
They had been measuring and watching the colours blend in the beaker, creating an... interesting solution. He watched her scribble something in the worksheet, noticing her handwriting was messier than he'd expected. It had kept changing its font, far from the consistent and neat image she had presented as, at least, with her personality. His eyes trailed to her frizzy hair that added an adorable, messy look to her, like his favourite character from UP, Ellie.
"You're staring," she mumbled, her pen tapping the edge of the paper in annoyance.
"Just admiring your handwriting," Jaemin teased, leaning slightly closer, glancing to her writing again, "It looks like five different people wrote that."
"Want to lose the ability to smile?"
He chuckled, watching as she moved to hold a pipette above one of the mixtures, "Are you going to start writing the conclusion, or should I do everything?"
Jaemin snapped back to reality, side stepping to grab the worksheet and immediately tapping the pencil to his cheek in thought, "Right, conclusion," he frowned when nothing came to mind, "Something something… mixture."
Y/N slowly turned to face him, "Very insightful," she deadpanned.
He didn't miss the tiniest curve of her mouth again and, God, even when she stifled a smile, it would still hit like a punch to the gut. He was starting to think maybe she was right to hide it as people would be drawn to her like the North Star. And now, it was starting to feel like it was a sight only he was allowed to see.
"You say that like it's not the best conclusion you have ever heard," Jaemin added, pressing the pencil to his lip smugly.
She sighed, snatching the worksheet from him without a word and scribbling a few lines with a quiet confidence that made him raise a brow. Her writing was still chaotic, unlike her thoughts.
He leaned in slightly to peek over at what she wrote, but she folded the paper away from his view like it was a personal diary.
"Do you mind?" she muttered in exasperation.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation, resting his chin on her shoulder to take a better look at the mysterious writing.
Y/N stiffened, her breath hitched as she stayed frozen. It was insane to her how good he smelt, the way her heart stuttered, and the soft weight of him on her shoulder felt... right. She almost let out a loud scoff at her own thoughts before elbowing him sharply in the ribs.
Jaemin let out a dramatic gasp, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated pout, "Excuse me, assault in a science lab full of lethal equipment is a criminal offence!"
"You were in my space."
"It was our space," he mumbled, still rubbing his side, "I would argue we have dual ownership over this lab."
She tongued the inside of her cheek and shoved the worksheet in his direction, "I don't see your name on this paper, Jaemin."
He smirked, feeling his own heart blush at the way his name sounded on her lips, and grabbed the paper, scribbling Na Jaemin (Princess) in the top corner, and (cute frog) next to her name. When he handed it back to her, she glanced at the names, then at him, and rolled her eyes at his silliness.
"Anyway," his voice filled the quiet room, eyes glancing away to look at the clock, seeing they only had a few minutes till the end of lunch, "I think we did a pretty decent job, we should celebrate getting this project done."
She looked up his taller form in confusion, "Celebrate?"
Jaemin nodded, "Yeah, I'll bring you a snack tomorrow, something sweet, so that you forget about annihilating me for barely carrying this project."
She sent him a scowl in response, "And what makes you think I like sweet things?"
He grinned cheekily, packing away the equipment, "You like me, don't you?"
Y/N was convinced Jaemin had hit his head in the past month, especially with all the shit he was spewing. But she couldn't stop the small smile that lifted the corners of her lips, immediately dropping the second she had realised, and Jaemin's eyes widened at the sight. His heart was going haywire. She had finally smiled in his presence, because of him.
"You really do look cute when you smile," he grinned at her, slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking almost entranced by her, "I'm glad I'm the only one who gets to see it."
She snorts, packing her things away as well, "Well, I'd rather you not smile. It's exhausting."
Jaemin smirks, nodding his head, "Okay, I won't!"
He exaggerates a silly-looking scowl, humming at the same time, "Is that better?"
Y/N lets out a disbelieving scoff, eyeing him in what seemed like amusement, "Somehow... that's much worse."
It had been three days. Three days of Jaemin leaving snacks on her desk like some overly enthusiastic snack fairy with too much free time in the crackhead hours of the morning — throwing coins on snacks she hadn't asked for.
He had brought strawberry pocky the first day (what he would call an abomination in a box), Hello Panda's the next, and today? Banana milk — in this obnoxiously bright yellow carton, with the straw poked in. He called it a "romantic gesture".
Y/N stared at the carton on her desk, the happy face of the banana staring right back into her soul. Her brows had furrowed as Jaemin plopped himself into the seat beside her with his usual beaming aura.
"You're welcome," he said with a grin, chin propped up on his hand as he watched her with hearts in his eyes.
"I don't remember saying thank you," she replied blandly, but her fingers still curled around the carton like a stress ball.
Jaemin tilted his head, nodding in agreement, "I know, but you did drink the last two, so... it seems like you do appreciate the gifts, or me. Or both."
"And it seems like," she echoed with a deadpanned expression, "you're annoying. Unsurprisingly."
"Are you waiting for some kind of an applause?" she continued when he didn't make a move to leave, taking another sip of the banana milk.
Jaemin shrugged, never taking his eyes off of her, even as other students around looked on in confusion, "Yes, actually. I deserve a standing ovation. I had brought you peace offerings three days in a row, that's equivalent to a committed relationship."
"You're clinically insane," she shakes her head, scanning over her notes.
"Clinically sexy, you mean," he corrected, wagging his brows, his voice exaggerated loudly.
She let out a long, exhausted sigh that sounded like it came from the pits of her stomach, the kind of sigh only Jaemin could evoke. However, silence had then settled between them again. This time, it was peaceful.
For once, Jaemin wasn't rambling silly little lines, openly flirting with her, or laughing gratingly loud. Instead, he was sitting there, occasionally stealing glances at her while she pretended not to notice. Then, out of nowhere, the words that had left Jaemin's lips gave her whiplash, paired with how casually he had said them.
"Wanna hang out this weekend?"
Y/N's pen slid across the page in shock, her head turning slowly, and suspiciously, like he had just asked her to help him bury a body, "Hang out?"
Jaemin shrugged, "Just thought we could do something, you know, outside of science experiments and this God-forsaken building."
She stared at him blankly for a moment longer before replying, "I'm busy."
"You don't even know what day I meant," Jaemin pouted, throwing rubber shavings her way, playfully.
He laughed under his breath, leaning back in his seat. "You'll say yes eventually."
"Not likely."
"We'll see."
She did end up saying yes.
When Friday afternoon came rolling in, and he caught up to her outside the school gates with another (peace offering) drink in hand, a grape-flavoured juice, he sent her a hopeful look with his lashes fluttering like the princess he claimed he was.
The weather carried a gentle breeze as the sun formed a subtle halo over the brunette male, making him appear even more angelic than he already was. His dark eyes were softer under the afternoon glow, and his smile felt like spring. Y/N didn't know why things were suddenly changing. Why her thoughts were becoming brighter and warmer in his presence. It was like he had merged into her life as though he had always belonged there, and she couldn't help but to give in.
She rolled her eyes, "Fine. One hour."
Jaemin blinked, surprise etching into his features, "Wait- what?"
"I'll hang out with you," she clarified, crossing her arms and looking off to the side as if she were an older sibling giving into the younger's request, "For an hour. And I'm not doing anything cheesy. If you take me anywhere with fairy lights or those photo booths, I will walk into on-coming traffic."
Jaemin burst into a fit of laughter, barely containing the smile stretching across his face, "You're the one who said yes."
"God," she grumbled, turning to walk ahead, not even waiting for him, "I'm already regretting this."
"No take backs!" He chirped as he caught up to her, grinning like he had won the lottery, "You'll regret it a lot less once you see what I had planned."
She stopped in her tracks, head snapping to him in shock. Not once had she hinted in agreeing to hang out with him, and yet, he had still put in the effort to plan something that wasn't guaranteed. Just because he wanted to make it something special.
"You planned it already?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously, "And why does that sound like a threat?"
"It's not! It's a promise," he beamed, "And of course I planned it. I knew you were going to agree. I mean, how could you say no to this face?"
He cupped his cheeks and batted his lashes at her. Usually, this would have been something that would instantly make her cringe yet, this time, it was so... Jaemin. So silly and adorably him. It gave her this sense of ease, as though it was alright for her to be just as silly, just as out there as he was. Despite what others may think.
However, Y/N gave him a long, stern look, unimpressed, "You are dangerously close to being punched in the throat."
Jaemin gasped, holding his arms up in defence, "Violence on our first date?"
"It is not a date," she said instantly, her voice a slight screech, feigning a scowl. Her heart was thumping erratically. A date? It was only a month ago when Jaemin had asked to be friends, but the spring-happy leprechaun wouldn't settle on just friends. Not with her.
"Sure it's not," he replied sarcastically, bumping his shoulder into hers. He watched as her teeth bit into the straw of the grape juice, lips puckering as she took a sip. God, he really was down bad.
"So, where exactly are we going?" she asked, interrupting his far from innocent thoughts.
Jaemin's smile twitched, internally cursing himself for getting carried away like that, "Somewhere where you can't walk into traffic."
She groaned, "Great. I can't escape by death."
Jaemin grinned, tugging at her sleeve lightly, "Nah, you're gonna fall."
"Fall?"
"For me," he replied smugly, wiggling his brows.
She stared at him long enough to make him shift slightly. He should have known corny, cheesy, unoriginal pick-up lines would never work on her, "…I changed my mind. Half an hour."
"I bet you're already falling for me," He continued to tease, gently poking at her sides and snickering at her annoyed expression.
"Keep talking and it'll be ten minutes."
He shut his mouth immediately, but the grin on his face didn't fade for even a second. Of course it wouldn't.
He had led her further down the quiet streets just beyond the school, the buzz of the busy roads echoing behind them. Suddenly, he turned into a narrow, sketchy pathway covered by dark walls and patched up windows.
"Okay, where the hell are we going?"
"You'll see, just trust me," Jaemin chirped, hopping over a puddle with the appearance of someone who probably believed in elves and the tooth fairy.
Y/N eyed the side of his face, as if analysing him, "You're like a golden retriever, and I don't mean that in a good way," she said, her tone dry, "Do you have this much energy even when you're in bed?"
Jaemin didn't miss a second, his lips curling into a smirk, "Depends who's in bed with me."
Y/N blinked, nearly choking on the last bit of juice, "You're disgusting."
"What?" he asked innocently, raising both hands in mock surrender, "You asked."
"And shameless," she muttered.
"And you're blushing," he shot back smugly.
She turned away quickly, muttering curses under her breath. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong… she was blushing.
However, when the path opened up to a skatepark, she was about to turn and walk in the opposite direction, until she saw a building to the right.
It was a planetarium, nestled at the far end of the park, hidden behind torn fences and overgrown trees, clearly abandoned. The soft, spring breeze weaved through the cracked windows and rustling dead leaves across the ground, making her anxious. It was silent, apart from the sharp creak of the iron gate as Jaemin kicked it open dramatically, letting her enter first.
"You're trespassing...," Y/N said nervously, yet still stepped past the gate.
"We are," Jaemin corrected, grinning as he didn't bother to shut the gate behind them, "You agreed to this, remember?"
She rolled her eyes, "I was coerced by grape juice."
Inside the planetarium was dark, where glimpses of sunlight flickered through the cracks of the walls. The air was coated in dust and old wood, the scent sharp in her throat — particles floated just like the glimmer of stars on the ceiling. The projector had sat in the centre, the lens still intact despite it rusting and coated in crumbling leaves and spider webs. But there was something almost... magical about this place, as though it carried many stories — a history.
"I used to come here a lot as a child," Jaemin said, his voice softer now, with a hint of nostalgia, "My dad used to work nearby, and he would take me after school sometimes. I mean... I loved the stars, it always intrigued me. I would just lie down right here and pretend they were real."
He lays down right in the middle of the dome, a softer, more pained smile gracing his lips as he saw the now faded stars that didn't seem to hold the same wonder it used to, "There was something so..."
"Magical," she voiced out her earlier thoughts, hesitantly laying down next to him.
He glanced over to see her looking up at the dimmed ceiling, the setting sun catching across her soft, pretty features, illuminating the curve of her cheekbone and the plushness of her lips. She looked oddly beautiful here, even in this run-down, shabby space. It was like she brought that same wonder back with just her presence alone.
"So this was your idea of a perfect date?" she asked finally, but her voice was gentle, tugging at his heartstrings.
"It's peaceful and there are no fairy lights in sight," he teased, "Besides, you'll ruin my date rating if you start judging my choices."
They lay in silence for a while, staring up at a ceiling that once reflected galaxies. Now, the real stars peeked through the gaps as the sun had finally set, fragmented and imperfect, fitting in like puzzle pieces against the fabricated lights.
"You asked me before if I ever stop smiling," Jaemin says, quietly, his eyes locked on the ceiling. He lies still under the watching gaze of the fading stars, "Just... when no one is around."
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a bitter laugh, not reaching the crinkles of his eyes, "I think somewhere along the line, I decided that being the overly positive guy was who I was meant to be. If I kept people distracted by this- this image, no one would look close enough to see all the fragmented pieces. I wouldn't be a burden to others."
Y/N said nothing, biting her bottom lip.
"Sometimes it feels like… if I were to drop this act, people wouldn't know what to do with me," He turns his head slightly towards her, letting out a dry chuckle, "That I would be a handful. I'd come with all the baggage that overwhelms them."
Y/N felt her eyes glaze with tears, the brittle air pressing against her chest that made it feel almost suffocating. She hated how much she related to those words alone.
She shifts slightly on the cold floor, trying to make her voice sound neutral, "That sounds exhausting."
"I guess it is," Jaemin admits.
"I do understand, though," she responds, glancing at him, "With keeping up that image."
Her voice doesn't waver, but it had always been hard for her to be vulnerable as she never had the chance to with her own family, "It's weird. One day, conversation is easy, people are approachable and..."
He listens, his brows furrowing in focus.
"Being strong for everyone else meant having to lose a part of myself," She exhales shakily, her nails digging crescents into her palms, "And after a while, I stopped feeling like me. Now, it's like I'm just a shell and pushing people away is easier. You don't get hurt again."
Jaemin's fingers inch closer to her, his knuckles brushing along her hand and, when her pinky hooks around his, he can't help but to smile softly.
"Even so... I don't hate being around people," she whispers, "I don't hate being around you."
He feels his heart skip a beat and his eyes widen slightly when her soft gaze meets his. It was like he got a glimpse into the warmth beneath the grumbling girl, the gentle side of her that hid behind the protective wall. Her usual glaring, intense gaze was now soft and sweet, pupils big as they reflected the starry sky in them, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
Jaemin quickly snaps his head away, bringing a hand over his mouth, hiding his flustered smile, "This is dangerous," he mumbles to himself. Every moment he spent with her was making it harder for him to be normal, not with his body getting hot, and her pretty eyes that watched him curiously.
"What's dangerous?" She asks, confused.
"You, Y/N," he breathes, meeting her gaze again, "you don't understand just how gorgeous you are, how you look at me like that and... the fact that you really are someone so warm and funny and smart. And there is so much more to you that I-"
He chuckled nervously, interlocking his hand with hers more boldly, "I love that you're different. That you trusted me enough to share a piece of yourself. I also want to be someone who would take away all the burdens you've been carrying. To help fill your cup with you, because you're perfect to me, and I want you to see that too."
"But why? You barely know me," she asked quietly.
"Because it's you. But also... do we even need a reason? I just want to."
Her heart beats loud in her ears and tears finally fall, startling Jaemin as he began to panic, worried he may have overstepped in some way. However, it felt like those were words she needed to hear, even if it were just scratching the surface of understanding her, and her understanding him. It felt like she had finally met someone who could. Who would try.
"Jaemin," she calls out to him, and he blinks in response just as she leans in before she could think. Before she could stop herself.
Y/N's lips press to his softly. It was hesitant and shy, but it felt right. Slowly, her fingers cup his jaw and Jaemin pauses. He had waited for this moment, waited for when he could finally get through the protective wall she built around herself. She pulls away and he immediately pulls her back in.
When her lips meet his again, it's messier, with her running her fingers through his hair, parting her lips to mould with his. He feels the urgency in her hands, and he lets out a quiet groan when she climbs onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips, yet never breaking the kiss.
Jaemin's palms settle at her waist, rubbing slow circles on her skin. He tries to control the pace, kissing her back slower, patiently, as he pulls away to catch his breath, tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Let me-" his voice is breathy and hoarse; chest heaving, "Let me take my time with you, Y/N. Please."
When her eyes search his, he continues with a softer tone, "You deserve as much."
She leans forward again, kissing him slow.
His hands curl over the back of her neck, the other still cupping her waist, pulling her in a little closer. It feels different this time, gentle and tender. Their mouths move quietly under the witness of the stars, like they're both trying to memorise what the other feels like.
Jaemin sighs softly against her lips when she subtly grinds against him, and he rests his forehead against hers.
"You don't have to rush anything with me, Y/N," he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."
"But I want this," she bites her lip, looking down at him. And that's all it takes for him to want to give in and give her everything she wants.
Jaemin's lips trail to her jaw, then down her neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses that make her heart flutter wildly. She whispers his name and he flips their positions so that she was under him now. His body hovers just above hers, brushing strands of her hair from her face.
He kisses her again, slowly at first, but the kiss deepens with each second. His hands slip beneath her soft jumper, fingers tracing along her waist and brushing just under the curve of her breast.
She arches into his touch when he cups her bra-clad breast, thumb swiping over her nipple. Her skin was warm and soft, paired with her sweet gasps, and he couldn't hold back any longer, pushing the jumper off of her.
"How could someone be so beautiful," he breathes out, his soft eyes delicately tracing over her frame as the subtle light of the moon hugged her skin. Her cheeks were flushed at the way he looked at her and, before she could feel any more shy, he connected his lips with hers again; tongue tracing the seam whilst his hands slipped under the lace, massaging her supple mounds.
Y/N tugged at his own hoodie, whining softly against his lips, to which he chuckled, sitting back to pull it off of him, not forgetting to place the clothing under her when he realised she was laying on the icy marble floor. Her cold, slender fingers cupped his jaw, trailing down his chest. It all felt unreal to the both of them; this moment under the stars. It was as though, under the moonlight, was her world. A glimpse into her inner warmth.
Soon, her jeans followed, his warm breath fanning against her inner thighs as his lips ghosted over the skin. He pressed gentle kisses slowly up, thumb finally grazing over her clothed clit which elicited a quiet moan from her. The moment he tugged her panties to the side, she knew what was coming and immediately gripped onto his hair in anticipation.
Jaemin's tongue licked a thick stripe up her folds and she shuddered. But he didn't stop there, picking up the pace. His humming against her had her cheeks flush. His warm breath and tongue guided her down the path towards ecstasy, hands pinning her thighs against his sprawled out hoodie. Each tug at the locks of his hair and the soft whines that left her lips, had Jaemin's control slip further, subtly grinding against the floor to find some sort of friction.
Y/N couldn't take it any more. Not his wet tongue that elicited lewd sounds from her lips, creating an erotic melody that layered with his eager licks and groans, paired with the squelching sounds as he finally pushed his fingers into her. Her eyes blurred as she stared at the stars, glimmering as he brought her to the edge. His fingers curled perfectly inside her, pressing against a bundle that made the thread snap, finally coming and coating his fingers with her release.
The sound he made when she shuddered beneath him; eyes rolling back, was so pretty, so guttural, she swore she could have come again right there and then.
"You're perfect, baby," he kissed the inside of her thigh before crawling up her writhing body, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, "We don't have to go all the way tonight, if you don't want to."
Immediately, she shook her head, pulling him in for a lazy kiss, "Jaemin... I want to. I'm sure."
He swore he felt his cock twitch at that, but he shook it off, sitting back on the heels of his feet as he unbuttoned his jeans, kicking it off along with his boxers. But he cursed at himself when the realisation dawned on him, "I-I'm sorry, baby. I don't have a condom. I mean... I wasn't really expecting anything to come out of tonight." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, though she almost didn't hear him, too entranced by the size of him, needing to shake herself out of it.
"If you're okay with not using one, I'm okay with it too," she said without hesitation, "I'm on the pill and... Well, I can get the morning after-"
His soft chuckle had cut her words short, "You want me that bad, huh? Aren't you the same woman who was so eager to get rid of me earlier?"
Y/N grumbles under her breath, "Just shut up. Are you going to sleep with me or what? It's getting cold."
Jaemin shakes his head in amusement, hovering over her. The way he looks at her has her heart race; the affection that he doesn't bother to hide, the way his eyes are constantly flicking over her features as if etching them into memory, and the way he isn't quick with claiming her, always making sure she's okay and giving her time to back out. Slowly, she reaches up, cupping his jaw, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
"Fuck... do you know what you do to me?" He breathes out, nuzzling into her touch and placing a kiss to the inside of her hand.
Then, he slides his member through her folds, pushing into her inch by inch, pausing every time her brows furrow even slightly. Even when it was torturous for him, he put her first, waiting until the corners of her lips relaxed, and the space between her brows didn't crease.
Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside, and she had relaxed around him, he started to move, picking up the pace a little at a time, her sounds playing as the guide. She was perfect, fitting around him like a glove, wrapping her legs over his hips, rocking into him to feel him deeper, as if he wasn't close enough for her.
Jaemin rested his forehead against hers, his groans synchronised with her pretty moans, "God..." he breathed out, letting his hand cup her waist, fingers pressed into her dewy skin as he grinded into her.
Y/N grabbed onto whatever she could, moving to nestle into his neck, her warm breath and plush lips brushing over his pulse point, "Y-yes, Jaemin...," her nails dug into his back, toes curling at every rock of his hips, every push of his dick into her, had the stars on the ceiling feel brighter and all-consuming, "F-fuck."
Jaemin couldn't handle it, couldn't prolong her release any longer. He grabbed onto her thighs, pushing them out and up to angle his thrusts better. Then, he grabbed onto her wrists, pulling them towards him, sitting back on the balls of his feet as he picked up the pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was so dirty under the witness of the gleaming moonlight.
Her head rolled back, mouth agape as deep, throaty sounds escaped her. The moment she began to shudder, he knew he had made her come a second time, his own release following right after.
Jaemin collapsed on top of her, his large frame burying her in warmth as she let out a lazy giggle, snuggling into him, "That was..."
"Amazing? I know."
She smacked his shoulder playfully, "You're so cocky. For all you know, I could have been about to say that it was mediocre, or abysmal, or-"
"Or the hottest thing ever," Jaemin pressed a kiss under her jaw, rolling off of her to grab the sleeve of his hoodie that still nestled under her figure, wiping away at the inside of her thighs.
Just then, a flashlight peeked through the hallway just outside the door. Immediately, the pair glanced at each other, Jaemin muttered a loud 'shit', before quickly slipping on his boxers and jeans, and she chucked his hoodie at him, throwing her own clothes back on — barely.
"We gotta go, now," Jaemin grabbed at her wrist before she could put her jeans and shoes on, darting out the back just as the security guard opened the door, yelling a 'who's there?'
As soon as they made it out of the planetarium and into the chilly night air, out of breath and barely able to stand up straight, Jaemin and Y/N let out a chuckle that sounded more like relief, finally bursting into a fit of laughter, barely able to keep their balance. She used that time to slip on her jeans and shoes, elbowing Jaemin, "We almost got arrested. You sure this is still a good date spot?"
Jaemin raised an amused brow at her, catching his breath after laughing, shrugging, "I just bagged the most perfect, smartest, and most unattainable woman in there. I'd say it's the date spot."
Y/N rolled her eyes, interlocking her fingers with his as she led him back onto the main street, "You better not bring anyone but me."
Jaemin stopped in his tracks, turning her around to face him as he held onto both of her hands, his face serious, "Of course. It's only ever been you, Y/N. I know we've only been on just one date and I know I get on your nerves, and that I barely carried any weight on that science project," he let out an embarrassed chuckle, "But I want to be your boyfriend, if you'll let me. Just know that I'll spoil you like crazy, because we both know that I'm the one who is down bad, who is so madly in love I can't think straight in your presence. I know it's only been a short while, but sometimes it just clicks and it clicked with you, Y/N. It clicked perfectly."
She couldn't stifle a wide smile, her eyes glazing over as she nodded eagerly, squeezing his hands tightly, "I can't say it's love just yet I... I need time, but I do like you, a lot and, I want to give us a try. I'll let you be my boyfriend."
Jaemin didn't realise he was holding his breath, letting out a sigh of relief, "I'm not expecting you to feel anything more than that, Y/N. That's more than enough for me, more than I can ask for or feel worthy of."
She tutted at him, sending him a playfully annoyed expression, "You're worthy of a lot more than you give yourself credit for, Jaemin."
6 months later...
"Haechan, don't be a brat, I told you to put the candles on the candle holders before placing them on the cake," Y/N scowled at the male, who only shrugged in response.
"You really don't need candle holders for this, he'll blow the candles out in like... two seconds. No wax will drip on the cake," He swiped his finger over the frosting, licking it off which had her smack his shoulder.
Renjun let out a frustrated sigh at their usual bickering, shoving Haechan to the side and placing the candles on the toppers, "Stop being difficult, Haechan. This isn't your event."
Haechan grumbled, crossing his arms as he leant against the fridge, "You guys need to get a DNA test, it's crazy how similar you both are."
Chenle, who was still wearing sunglasses indoors, peers up from his phone after watching the tracking map, seeing Jaemin's icon pulling up to the apartment, "Guys, he's almost here, stop fighting."
Y/N quickly scrambles to grab the cake, causing Renjun to whine, "Careful, this will all go to waste if you drop it!"
She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping the cake into her hands as she moves to stand in front of the door, "Okay, as soon as you hear the elevator, light the candles. Don't mess this up!"
Haechan grabs the lighter from the counter, standing next to her as he angles it just above the first candle, "Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't want the leader of the underworld to beat my ass."
She sends him a glare, kicking his leg which causes him to yelp, "I am not Hades!"
"Well, Hades would have kicked my leg too!"
"Because you deserved it!"
Chenle, who was now standing in front of the door, jumps in surprise when he hears the elevator ding, "Guys, shut up, he's here!"
Haechan, about to clap back at her, quickly lights the candles, struggling with the last one until it finally burns a flame into the thread just in time for the front door to open. Renjun could have sworn he almost had a heart attack from the way their whole surprise could have gone bust.
As soon as Jaemin steps inside, the quartet broke into song, singing happy birthday to the male who never would have expected a surprise from the people who meant the most to him. A smile tugged at his lips, his toothy grin wide as he finally met the gaze of the most beautiful woman in his eyes. He knew it was her idea, that she brought them here for him, even though it had taken a while for them to all grow close.
When the song ends, Jaemin's eyes flutter closed to make his wish, blowing out the candles, causing everyone to cheer. Haechan ruffles Jaemin's hair, Chenle claps his back, and Renjun gives him a curt nod and birthday wishes, taking the cake from Y/N's hands before the three of them move to the living room, preparing to hand him the presents.
Jaemin doesn't stop smiling at her, pulling her into a tight hug, his nose nestling into her hair, "Thank you for organising all of this, Y/N... It means the world."
She chuckles, "Of course, I knew how much it would mean to you. I'm just surprised I could get everything ready in time, knowing how easily the four of us bicker."
Jaemin chuckled, pulling back to meet her gaze, "Am I the luckiest man ever? I think I am."
She snorts, rolling her eyes, "You're so annoying. This is why I love you."
Jaemin paused, his eyes widening slightly as the words finally registered, "You..."
When she realised why he had been shocked, she shakes her head in amusement, pulling him in for a sweet kiss, nipping at his bottom lip as she pulled back, "I love you, Jaemin. I was just waiting for the right time to say it."
The three men hollered from the living room, but Jaemin let those sounds drown out, cupping her cheeks with the palms of his hands as he pulled her back in for another kiss, parting his lips against hers, tugging at the plush skin as he smiled into her mouth, "I love you too, Y/N."
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?”
SYNOPSIS: lee haechan ー beloved retired prosecutor ruins his own career with his big mouth. as his lawyer, you have to save his career, or what's left of it, and you rock his world while trying to do so.
PAIRING: tv personality!haechan x female lawyer!reader
GENRE: acquaintances to strangers to lovers, humour, smut.
WORD COUNT: 16.4k
CONTAINS: appearance of other idols. love triangle?? but not really. mentions of sensitive topics but none involve the main characters directly. haechan gets called both haechan and donghyuck. one bad and possibly offensive joke. banter, humour, smut, jealousy, lots of dialogue. sub!haechan, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, praise and degradation kink, nipple play, unprotected penetrative sex, riding, choking. author's note at the end.
inspired by michael jackson's song you rock my world.
“If it’s morning for you, good morning,” Haechan’s ears ring as he watches the flat TV screen in his living room, “If it’s night, then, goodnight! And remember…”
“If you don’t see me again, have a nice life!” Haechan repeats the words of the host. His words. Words that he, himself came up with. His punchline — which was stolen by the crusty rat who took his place, who managed to steal from him even the intonation as he spoke the words.
Haechan scoffs, turning the TV off, and throwing his slippers away, not caring where they land.
He made a colossal mistake, and he’d like to shirk his way out of it easily by saying it wasn’t him. The only problem? He said it on television, everyone has seen his stupid face plastered on their TV’s as he possibly fumbled his career forever.
But how was he supposed to know people don’t have a sense of humour? Right after it slipped past his lips, his bosses warned him about the repercussions of such a joke, and even if they thought the joke was great and howled with laughter while slapping him on his back repeatedly, the audience didn’t appreciate it.
He sits back on his disgustingly big couch, and rewinds what happened that one night.
He told his usual jokes, everyone laughed, the live band used the drums and trumpets for effect. And then, just because he felt very brave and his ego was skyrocketing after looking at the amused faces in the audience, he thought it would be a good idea to add one last joke — instead of his usual concluding line for the end of the night.
“And since this was a topic tonight… before I get to wish you a good night,” He announced, grin stretching from ear to ear, showing his pearly white teeth — a smile everyone loves or, better said, used to love, “I got one last joke about abortion that never gets old… just like the baby…”
Crickets. No one laughed, not even a sound coming from the live band — not even the disappointed sound of the trumpet at his flopping joke.
He cringes remembering how he ended the night, the phone calls from his producers and bosses, and them wishing him the whole thing wouldn’t escalate into something bigger.
Except, it did escalate.
His amazing rating dropped and, to put it simply, he got called in the office and put on unpaid leave until things settled and waters calmed down.
And even after being put on leave, people still came for his head. Women, activists, whole communities fuelled the online debates, criticism, and hate train over his words and actions. He saw his life being desiccated, under a magnifying glass for everyone to judge and study thoroughly, trying to find past mistakes that could be the final nail in his coffin, and which could erase him from being in the public eye.
Lee Donghyuck, who managed to work hard and make a name for himself. Lee Donghyuck, who moved on from his passion and dream job, leaving his job as a prosecutor for a better and, what he was hoping to be, a calmer future.
Lee Donghyuck, the almighty county prosecutor left his life behind after audiences loved his presence and made him famous, turned into his television persona — Lee Haechan — and the audiences stepped on him like a disgusting cockroach, ready to get discarded of him, who he once was, and what he once represented.
And worst of all, he got a call asking him to come into office tomorrow — and Haechan knows that’s not a good sign for him.
You know who Haechan is. Of course you do, whoever claims not to know who he is is either lying or has been living under a rock for the past couple of years.
He used to be a very diligent prosecutor, who took his job seriously and did his best trying to catch bad guys and getting them convicted for the longest times for their heinous crimes. He used to be one of the best in his field, of the highest competence, so much that lawyers already knew they were on thin ice trying to fight him in court, their clients most likely ending up in jail.
He had an innate talent at what he was doing, and an honest love for his profession — so much that people could just tell he lived and breathed to be a prosecutor. This passion opened a door for him — in television this time.
There used to be this one program, with people dropping by either in person or with a phone call, and they brought up their legal battles asking for advice — all televised. And Haechan was the one expert the producers called most of the times.
Phone calls turned into physical appearances at the studio, where he interacted with the audience. He walked in the studio like he owned the entire planet. Expensive suits, expensive leather shoes, Rolex and jewellery adorned his wrists. He had a glint in his eyes, one that could make anyone fall for his charms.
He was cocky, and for a good reason. He knew just how good he was at his job and, quite frankly, at everything in his life. And although his cockiness might have rubbed some people the wrong way — a handful of people out of an ocean of amazed and satisfied audiences — Haechan was very talented with his charms. He talked to people like he was close to them, like they were long lost friends. He gave them pieces of advice that one would have given to the people you only cared about the most, or to real clients. Not some random person on a TV show.
He connected with the people, and everyone loved him. He became a legend, well known, well liked — and viewer rates skyrocketed.
So much that they gave him his own night show. That’s when he became Lee Haechan — but you’ve known him for far longer than you’d like to admit.
You’ve known him from when he was Lee Donghyuck, a simple student. He studied law and was an insufferable presence in your classes. Your opinions clashed, but then you united against people who had opinions that not only were different than yours, but also wrong. It’s like you were allowed to fight each other, but the moment someone else tried to intervene or take either one of your places, you teamed up to fight back.
You can’t really say you were total strangers to each other. You acknowledged each other, and each other’s talent at what you were doing. Back then, you thought his presence was aggravating, with his usual talent at picking up fights with you and bickering during debates and classes, and you swear he had a sick glint of satisfaction in his eyes every time he saw you getting worked up over him contradicting you.
You got to work on some projects together, and he was close to some people from your small circle of friends. When you’re a law student, there’s not much time you can spend relaxing or going on dates, so the friends you make in your first year are basically the ones you’re stuck with. You heard stories, whispers, but not once did you consider Donghyuck more than what he was — a friend of a friend, who liked driving you insane with every chance he got.
Everyone liked him, got along with him well, yet you kept your distance — mainly because you couldn’t stand his cockiness when he was so satisfied with his driving you up the wall, or when he knew he was right and that he won an argument or debate.
And then your studies ended, and he climbed the success ladder with big and quick steps, while you liked taking your time.
You focused on your career, and you liked gloating that your success rate was almost impeccable. Sure, the amount of work load couldn’t compare to what Donghyuck had to work with as a prosecutor, but you never diminished your efforts and your talent.
For this exact reason, you picked up doing pro bono work every chance you got — being driven by the thought that you could do your part and help people out, with this small aspect at least, and it became an important part of your life, one that helped you stay grounded.
After reminiscing the past, and knowing what’s to come in the next weeks, it boosts your confidence and makes you completely satisfied with yourself, like nothing — and no one — can take you down.
Which is exactly why the drive to the studio feels extremely exciting, like your skin is tingling to get to work — this being the first time you work on this type of case.
Your heels clink on the shiny floors as you make your way towards the conference room, where your bosses and your client are waiting for you to make an appearance.
And with a few minutes left to spare before your meeting starts, you stall on the hallways of the headquarters, because you hate showing up earlier — or later, for that matter — for appointments. You like being very precise, organised in every little aspect of your life because, after all, these are the only moments you try to stay away from unpredictability.
“Oh, hi!” You’re snatched out of your thoughts as you look at your watch. Two more minutes left before going in. “Is there a reason you’re not going in?” Johnny Suh, one of your bosses, smiles while looking at you, all confused.
You shrug, taking a sip from your coffee, “Still two minutes left,”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t take you seriously, and the sly smile on his features makes you understand he really isn’t, “Don’t be silly,” He gestures for you to walk towards the door, huge hand barely touching your tricep respectfully in order to guide you in, “He’s already here,”
He opens the door for you, and you give him a small smile, complying with his request to go in. He’s your boss, after all.
“I told you that’s not it! I didn’t mean it that way, I was jus-” You recognise the voice, high in pitch with frustration, and he stops his rambling when he turns his head to look at who’s walking inside the conference room.
“Y/n?” He’s in disbelief, and a small crease forms in between his eyebrows.
“You two know each other?” Johnny asks, sitting down at the huge table, “Of course you do! I forgot you used to work in the same field,” He looks over a few papers as he takes his blazer off, “Then there’s no need for formal introductions, right?”
You take your seat right across from where Donghyuck is sitting, and you watch as he pouts with confusion while looking at you. You smile, a kind of devious and calm smile he’s never seen on your face before — and it almost creeps him out.
“What are you doin’ here?” He asks you, leaning in over the table as if your answer is meant to be a secret, for his ears only. As if the room isn’t filled with producers and executives.
“Y/n is your lawyer,” Another executive speaks up before Johnny can ease Donghyuck into it.
You’re impressed by the straightforwardness, realising that the sooner the bandaid gets ripped off, the better for everyone.
“My what?!” Donghyuck’s voice is high in pitch, proving to you that his usual exaggerating persona from the past hasn’t changed a bit. “I don’t need a lawyer,”
“Yet,” the CFO intervenes, and Donghyuck’s head snaps to the side to look at her.
His eyebrows furrow while taking his sweet moment trying to understand what is going on.
“I’m sorry but-” He snakes his head incredulously, his gaze moving between your figure and Johnny’s, “Am I being sued for something?”
“Not yet,” The CFO corrects him, and judging by the crease between Donghyuck’s eyebrows, you know he’s getting frustrated.
“But we can’t take chances on this, Haechan,” Johnny speaks up, “We know that your image is being taunted right now, and that people are very much against you,” He explains, like it should be obvious to Donghyuck that things aren’t going to calm down so easily and so soon. “Shall anything happen, Y/n’s here to assist you the best she can while also trying to work on your public image and clear your name,”
“Shall anything happen,” Donghyuck snaps, “I can represent myself very well, you all know this already,”
You look at him, now that you have the proper opportunity to see him in real time, and not on a screen. It’s been so long since you last saw him in person, you’re almost in owe at how his features remained the same, yet they became bolder, stronger, more contoured. He matured, and it brought a glow to him that you never imagined possible — not to his annoying face, anyway.
Eyes have become fiercer, like they’ve seen so many things. His jaw is visibly more defined, stronger, and when it sets with annoyance it shows you just how much he’s changed. You saw this exact jaw so many times in the past, and with every little sign of contradiction coming from someone else against him, he acted the same — jaw setting when upset, tongue in his cheek when he was taking it lightheartedly.
You look at his hands, that have also changed over time. Veins are more prominent under his tanned, honey-like skin, jewellery now adorning his wrist and fingers with beautiful golden rings and bracelets complimenting his skin tone.
It’s like he hasn’t changed when it comes to his behaviour, but physically he’s become something nearly out of this world — as much as you hate to admit it. Never in a thousand years were you thinking you’d ever be admitting to yourself how good-looking he’s gotten, and certainly you don’t plan to share your thought with anyone else. You guess you’ll have to take this secret to your grave, especially because you know that if your thoughts made it to his ears, you’d never know the end of it.
“Haechan,” Another executive calls his name, as a warning. “This is Y/n’s job, not yours. I think you’ve done enough, ”
Donghyuck turns around to look at you, straight in the eye. Everything the execs are telling him, all the instructions and pieces of advice they’re directing his way, you know he’s not listening. He’s looking at you like he’s ready to take a bite out of you, and if you didn’t already know him and his ways you’d be afraid right now.
Instead, you pucker your lips trying to mask your smile, trying to keep a professional façade in front of everyone.
What is he so worked up for, anyway? You ask yourself. No one said he’s not capable of representing himself, but you were literally hired for this kind of matters, and it’s ironic that he’s your very first client since becoming a corporate lawyer.
You’re fairly certain Donghyuck has paid no attention to anything going on during this meeting, so you already know you’ll have to pay extra attention to everything he does until everything calms down.
As the meeting comes to an end, and everyone gets up to leave, Donghyuck doesn’t move — doesn’t even bid anyone goodbye as they exit the conference room.
It’s just the two of you now, and you look at him as he watches every single movement of yours. The way you click on your retractable pen before putting it away in your tiny and fancy pencil case; the way you pile your files before putting them back inside your shoulder bag.
“Why are you here?” He rasps, still not relaxing in his seat. His elbows seem to be glued to the table as he keeps his fingers intertwined, not letting emotions betray him. Or so he hopes, because you know him pretty well to know he’s pissed by your presence.
“Have you not been paying attention?” You mock him, raising your eyebrows at him, “I’m the corporate lawyer,”
He huffs a mocking breath, rolling his eyes at you before clicking his tongue, “I don’t need a lawyer,”
You sigh, suddenly at your limit after hearing him going on like a broken record, “You don’t. Yet.” You snatch your bag away from the table, gracefully placing it on your shoulder — albeit its heaviness, “You’re a fool if you think I’m here for you, though.”
“What?” He barks, not able to refrain anymore. He has so much pent up rage from the past few weeks that he’s been dying to let out, and you’re doing your best to make him snap. Just like the old days. “What does that even mean?”
“I thought you were smarter than this,” You reply, but it comes out more as a question dripping with mockery, and it has him pushing his tongue in the inside of his cheek, “I’m a corporate lawyer, which means that I’m protecting their interests and their image, not yours. I’m sure you already know how that works… When you get in trouble, they also do,” You remind him, and you’re not even sure why you have to go through this with him right now — he’s supposed to know all this stuff already.
“I need to go now,” You announce, finally turning your back to him, “We’ll keep in touch,”
There’s a gram of satisfaction jubilating inside your body, and you can’t help the smirk that takes over your features as you leave him behind, knowing his ego and pride are now sore.
Haechan’s ears pick up a muffled sound, but he’s still too tired to care. He’s been home for a while, still on a leave, and he hasn’t seen you ever since you left the office with that arrogance that makes him want to climb walls.
The muffled sound becomes clearer, like someone properly banging on his door, and he waits a few more moments praying that whoever is at his door will soon go away. He’s not expecting anyone, he’s sure security downstairs didn’t let anyone get to his door, yet the knocking is incessant — and it gets on his nerves.
His barefoot steps thud as he makes his way, dizzy and sleepy, towards the front door. He looks through the peephole before letting out a groan, but unlocks the door nonetheless.
“Why are you here?” He locks the door after you, and you kick your heels off, out of politeness, walking down his entry hallway towards his living room.
He lives in one of those luxurious buildings — and you didn’t expect less coming from a former prosecutor who made a fortune out of his job, and a fortune more from his new job in television. His living room has you fighting the urge to let out a low whistle in appreciation, and you throw a quick glance around trying not to be too obvious with your curiosity. Everything is tidy; the decor is neat, showing his personal taste with every item of eclectic furniture and memorabilia, and the place smells like him.
You turn around on your heels, facing him once again, “You didn’t pick up my calls,” You explain, looking him up and down.
He snickers as he looks for his glasses around the living room. His hair is ruffled, his voice is raspy, and he’s still in his pyjama shorts — you definitely snatched him out of bed.
He sits on the couch, placing his glassed on the bridge of his nose before looking at you, “I don’t pick up calls from unknown callers,” He shrugs, getting more comfortable in his seat, but not offering you to take a sit.
Not that you would need him to offer you anything, not even an invitation. But because you’re in a hurry, you decide to just stand a few feet away from him.
“I told you we’d keep in touch,” You bark, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “So didn’t you think that maybe, just maybe, your lawyer is the one calling?”
He shrugs, muffling a yawn, “You could have sent me an email,”
“I did,” Your reply is dry, and you see him avoiding your gaze. “Go get ready, we’re going out,”
“Oh?” He squeals delighted, “Like a date?” He quips, grinning ear to ear, but stands up nonetheless.
You roll your eyes at him, “Just dress nicely,”
“Where are you taking me? I’m not a brunch person, I prefer candlelit dinners, you kn-” He’s interrupted by your steps, following him to his dressing room. “What are you doing?”
You let out the fakest, most mocking sound of endearment while looking at him and at how he keeps his hands over his clothed chest, as if you could see through his t-shirt.
“I didn’t realise you are a prude,” You mock him, looking at the enormous dressing room. “Go ahead, it’s not like I haven’t seen a man’s bare torso before,” You instruct him, and you can’t help but look at how an entire dresser is full of expensive suits and shirts made of Egyptian cotton. You suppress the need to let out a low whistle for the second time today, “I need you to look impeccable, I know the press is still after you. They can’t catch you lacking,”
He hums, and you’re sure he didn’t pay attention to what you just told him. That, or he just doesn’t care if he’s caught dressing like a homeless person. But it would be disastrous to his image, especially because most of his public appearances have been nothing short of perfect — and dressing badly right now could start discourse around press, and around everyone actively being against him.
You see him pulling his white t-shirt off his back, tossing it on the loveseat in the corner of the room.
Your eyes fall on his V line, out of instinct. It’s defined, it travels down to the waistband of his pyjama shorts, that are hanging dangerously low on his hips, and you feel like you can’t take your eyes off of him. Like there’s a magnetic force that doesn’t allow you to look away from him — and the same force has your eyes travelling across the waistband, gaze shifting to the happy trail on his lower abdomen.
You gulp, finally taking your eyes off his tanned skin, looking for something more appropriate to gawk at — like the vanity behind you. You turn around as if you didn’t just momentarily lose yourself in the sight of Donghyuck’s bare torso.
If he noticed your gawking, he doesn’t say anything — and you go about your inspecting his vanity while he gets dressed, moaning about you invading his privacy.
You look at the many bottles of perfumes scattered on the vanity, realising just how neat he is even with arranging his cologne and perfume bottles. You pick up a few, smelling them, and you’re instantly slapped by his usual scents — the ones he used back when you were students.
“Excuse me, miss… sorry…” He mumbles while sliding up next to you and into your personal space, snatching the bottle of Diptyque from your grasp and spraying it on his bare chest and, surprisingly, all around himself.
You cough, stepping away from him, and you see how his slim fingers button his shirt up with dexterity.
You shake your head, “Did you not apply deodorant?”
A cocky smirk appears in the corner of his mouth, “I don’t need that,” He licks his lips, “You’ll learn that about me,”
You throw him an incredulous look, “And how would I do that?”
That insufferable cocky smirk makes an appearance once again, and he shakes his head while styling his shirt, “There are a few ways. You’ll see… eventually,”
His cockiness irks you. You liked him better when he was sulking over the fact that you are his lawyer.
You managed to book an important interview for him, one that can straighten his career back to the way it used to be.
He’s going to talk about his old cases, he’s going to talk about all the times he helped people struggling with legal matters. He’s going to bring back all the good he’s done to society, and you’re sure that will stop the online hate train he’s still being the victim of.
You explain everything to him, you line the whole plan down for him to understand, to know what he should expect from the interview. Given that today is going to be just about getting a new suit for the interview, you think he needs to have enough time to mull over his thoughts and possible answers involving the topics about his past.
You also made sure they wouldn’t bring up the recent controversy — you made a clear script of topics to be addressed, you’ve made it clear to the producers. And you think this is the perfect opportunity for him to clear his name, save his career, and dodge any more criticism from the public. That, and the fact you know the editor working on said program, so it’s going to be easy to have everything under control.
“As always,” You start, touching the collar of his shirt, styling it on his nape as he looks at himself in the big mirror, and your fingers comb through the strands of hair that are getting longer, “Don’t talk to the press. Ignore them, I know you have a big prosecuting mouth, but try your best not to make this even worse,”
Your words irk Donghyuck, who follows after you as you stand by his door, putting your heels back on before heading outside.
You’re acting like he’s an idiot who runs his mouth. Like he doesn’t know what he has to do now that he’s walking on thin ice, and he wants to remind you that he’s been around the press more than you have.
“Stop bossing me around,” He rasps as he locks his front door, and you can tell that he’s getting worked up, by the way he’s pouting while talking. You walk ahead of him, going towards the lifts, “You show up to my place, dictating orders that I have to follow because you’re… my lawyer,” He barks, and it comes out more as a question, “You think you know best, but I’m not your puppy! I’m not following you around!”
You stop in your tracks, and he nearly slams into your back as he doesn’t catch your pausing. You turn around, pouting at him.
“I’m not asking you to follow me around, Donghyuck,” You mock him, posing and looking up at him, “You’re the one literally choosing to walk behind me, puppy boy,” You point your head at him, and you grab his cheeks with your free hand, squishing them together to make him pout, “You’re my puppy because you genuinely want to,”
You turn around, heels clinking on the marbled floors of the hallways as you make your way towards the lifts once again, “Ya comin’?” You ask him without halting your steps.
Donghyuck stays still for a moment, right as and where you left him. He looks at the way you sway your hips as you walk down the hallway, and he feels like the collar of his shirt is strangling him. He’s very confident about what he said about not needing deodorant, but he didn’t think you’d have him in the palm of your hand, talking down to him and making him sweat.
He clears his throat, choosing to stay silent as he follows you, and the thought that he is your puppy is starting to be very convincing inside his brain.
When interview day arrives, Donghyuck walks inside the studio like he owns the place — his usual confidence overflowing and becoming obvious even to the blind.
You pull him by the sleeve. “Tone your ego down,” You whisper through your teeth, for him to hear, “Be humble,”
“I am humble,” He looks down at you, the proximity of your bodies making his minty breath fan down on your face. “Imagine just how insufferable I am when I don’t have to walk on glass,”
“Oh,” You push at his chest, taking a step back, “I don’t have to imagine,” You turn around, your back now facing him, and you roll your eyes out of frustration.
He snorts, “I know you rolled your eyes at me,” He comments, voice low and raw with amusement. You turn around to look at him, and you see him grinning at you, pearly teeth on display as he tries to control his laughter, “You might not realise this yet, Y/n, but I know you,” He rasps, still amused, yet the glint in his eyes seems serious.
His words dawn on you, and your stomach flutters — but you don’t want to overthink about his words and the implication behind them. There can be endless, and you choose not to think about any right now.
Donghyuck gets dragged towards the changing room, and you follow after him and the stylist. You keep a close eye on him.
He’s leisurely making conversation with the stylist, making her ease into conversation and talk to him like they’re long lost friends. His innate gift of communicating is once again proven to you, and frankly to anyone else too. Even the ones mad at him seem to forget why they’re keeping away, once he opens his mouth.
Such charms are a gift, but also a curse — judging by where it got him these days.
You look at him, all styled, all ready to go in his beautiful navy suit you personally handpicked for him a few days ago. The blue brings out the tan of his skin just perfectly; he smells like Diptyque once again, and his longer strands are styled beautifully in order to frame his face.
You look up at him, while he plays with the buttons of his suit. The slope of his nose is perfect, and he pouts his full lips seemingly without realising, too busy paying attention to his sleeves.
You look at him in all his glory, and you let out a sigh.
You place the palm of your hand right in between his shoulder blades, your other hand grabbing him by the base of his neck. You push on his back and at the base of his neck simultaneously, making him adjust his posture.
“Uh,” He huffs, and his eyes widen as gets startled by your sudden actions. He clears his throat, trying to fight a smile.
“You need to learn to stand up straight,” You judge, still pushing on his spine and throat.
He finally breaks, smirk obvious even to you, and you look up at him just in time to see him licking his bottom lip.
“How’d you know I like this?” He provokes while smirking, looking down at you with the corner of his eye, but doesn’t change posture the moment you take your hands away from his body.
“Pervert,” You mumble, averting your gaze.
He chortles, turning around to look at you, posture still straight. He’s even taller than before, towering over you, and you hate that you have to look up at him.
“Oh c’mon!” He pulls you by the arm to get you to look at him, “You act like you weren't gawking at my naked body the other day,” He rasps lowly, keeping the banter between the two of you as you wait for him to be called for the interview, “I might be a pervert, but you’re not better than me!”
His hands extend towards you, trying to grab you by the arms to get your attention — or any other reaction out of you — but you’re quick with your movements as you slap his hands away. He manages to grab you by the wrist, and you stop squirming as you feel his warm and velvety skin touching yours.
You look up at him, only to notice his eyes trailing across your features, and right after looking you straight in the eye for a few seconds, his gaze falls on your lips. His gaze is sultry as he doesn’t look away, he doesn’t even let go of your wrist, yet you become relaxed to his touch.
You feel your stomach fluttering. It’s the look in his eyes, it’s the tongue still playing on his bottom lip, his cologne flooding your senses thanks to the proximity of your bodies. Your senses are alert, he managed to wake them up with a simple touch, and you suddenly feel like hotness it starting to pool in the pit of your stomach.
Your doe eyes, and the slight blush of your cheeks are enough to rile Donghyuck up, and enough to give him a reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, this doesn’t feel so wrong.
Just as you see him smirking once again, opening his mouth to let out something that you are sure is going to be pushing your buttons, he gets interrupted.
“Y/n?” A man’s voice snatches you out of the childish banter with Donghyuck, and you turn around to look for whoever just called your name.
A big smile stretches on your face, “Sungchan!”
The tall man takes a few steps, draping an arm around you, “You’re here, finally!” He smiles down at you, and then his gaze shifts towards Donghyuck, who's standing like a lost puppy behind you, “Lee Haechan! It’s so nice to finally get to meet you in person!”
Donghyuck nods, seriousness suddenly taking over his features, and he looks at the tall man who’s now on the receiving end of all your attention. He seems like a positive person; a helper, maybe. Someone you can rely on at all times — but he doesn’t want to imagine you, of all people, relying on the man who has you grinning from eat to ear right now. It should be him, the source of your grinning and decompressing, not this person you probably don’t even know as well as you know him.
He feels hotness starting to bother him, creeping up his neck — all the way to his jaw and ears. He feels uncomfortable, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. He starts feeling like a puppy once again, and he has the urge to take his tie off and possibly beat this man with it. Who cares if he adds one more controversy to the whole fiasco? Certainly not him, because he’s ready to do it if it means he has your attention back on himself.
Just as he’s ready to intervene in your conversation — even if he doesn’t know how, but he thinks he can find a way to ruin the shameless batting of eyelashes from your part — a voice calls for his name, announcing that he’s ready to go.
You turn around to look at him one last time, signalling him to be calm and level headed.
“I’ve always wanted to meet him!” Sungchan’s eyes sparkle while looking at the small screen as you follow the interview.
Donghyuck makes pleasant jokes to break the ice, witty sarcasm dripping off the tip of his tongue, enamouring the host, and you know he’s safe. He’s got this — like always.
Your attention shifts to Sungchan. You met him a long time ago, fresh out of university, during language classes you picked up as a hobby. You bonded over common interests and the fact that you attended the same course allowed you to study together from time to time, and spend more time together.
But then you started becoming busier with your career, and attending those classes became close to impossible. You kept in touch with Sungchan, and now he promised he’d help you out with Donghyuck’s interview.
You take your eyes off the small screen yet again, once you hear Sungchan humming.
“Are you busy tomorrow night?” He asks, voice raw, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
You blink at him, and you try to keep your usual seriousness, but it becomes difficult when you notice how much his eyes are sparkling as he looks at you. You move your weight on your other leg, averting your gaze as you try to mask your delight.
The interview will air in a couple of weeks, and by that time everything will calm down with Donghyuck’s issue. Plus, this gives you the perfect opportunity to discuss more about how you’d like the interview to come out.
“Pick me up at eight,” You tell him, smiling softly, right before your gaze returns to the small screen.
Time goes by, Sungchan eventually leaves the studio, and Donghyuck seems to have the host wrapped around his pinky finger.
He waltz towards you, confidence coming out of every single pore on his skin, and he winks your way as he goes back to changing in his casual clothes.
He’s relaxed, he’s his usual self as he bids everyone goodbye, and even stops to shake hands of a few executives, all while carrying his expensive suit over his shoulder. You watch him being in his natural habitat — surrounded by people, being loved and appreciated by them. He smiles, lips curving while his smile reaches his eyes as he tries to dodge certain topics and turn people down in the most polite way. And he has the tact for it, he has diplomacy, yet he has the easygoing humour that knows exactly when to attenuate conflictual topics.
You’re still wondering why he got himself in this position in the first place. Going from being a prosecutor — profession which, by the way, endowed him with all the skills he sports nowadays — to becoming a tv host who has easily fallen in disgrace, victim of sensitive judgement and especially of cancel culture.
“So,” He starts, approaching his Porsche in the parking lot, “Should we have dinner together, tomorrow? You know… to celebrate the fact that tonight was a success,”
You raise your eyebrows, and you see the unfaltering glint in his eyes only getting bigger with excitement. You think it’s because your plan was successful, he enjoyed the interview, and it will be enough to clear up all sorts of confusion when it comes to his controversies.
“I’d love to,” You start, and you think the glint in his eyes became even more sparkly, “But…” You suck air through your teeth, wrinkling your nose.
Donghyuck doesn’t like how you wrinkle your nose — or, to put it better, what it implies.
He nods insistingly, pushing you to continue, “I’m fairly sure you didn’t have anything planned,”
You shrug, “Sungchan kinda beat you to it,”
The sky falls on him. While he was following your orders, another man worked his charms on you?
“You’re ditching me for someone you barely know?” He’s getting worked up, but he’s trying to keep it light by pushing his tongue in the inside on his cheek as he smiles with disbelief.
“Sungchan and I are friends,” You retort, suddenly not liking how you have to explain your life to Donghyuck — who has been a total stranger to you, and with whom you only reconnected a month ago.
“Friends?” He sniggers, disbelief making his voice high in pitch, “If you’re friends with him, then what does that make us?”
“You’re my client, Donghyuck,” You spit out, arrogance matching his during his worst days. This is the first time Donghyuck hates the way you say his name. “I’ll call you soon. You better pick up my calls!” You warn him as your heels clink on the concrete, as you walk towards the exit.
And Donghyuck feels his insides churning as he thinks of what you’ve just told him.
Unbelievable.
It’s unbelievable how he is at home, bored out of his mind, and you’re out on a what? A date?
He likes to think it’s just a simple chit-chat with an old friend, but he’s a man and he knows how the ones of his kind can get when there’s a pretty girl around.
You called him his client, but he remembers how you called him a fool for believing you were his lawyer.
Your usual biting back every time he tries to get closer hasn’t changed. Maybe you misunderstood his intentions, and no, this isn’t about him asking you out — because he totally did that, and was hoping you’d finally warm up to him.
You literally rocked his world when you reappeared in his life, yet you’re now out with that Sung-something, and he feels like he is going to lose all progress made with you up until now. Is it a crime that he wants to crash your supposed date? That he doesn’t care if the press finds him wandering the streets as he looks for the restaurant that man took you out to?
Instead, he picks up his phone. He wants to send a text, just to make sure you’re having fun — but who is he kidding? He wants to send a text to bring your attention on him.
How long have you known this Sung person for, anyway? Donghyuck bets the history between him and you feels heavier, fuller than whatever friendship you have with that guy because, after all, as much as you might not have liked it, you two were always around each other all those years back.
He sighs, taking a sip from his glass of wine, and he lets his intrusive thoughts win. He dials your number, but just as expected, you don’t pick up. So he insists, because that’s what he’s best at — pushing your buttons.
“You better be dying and for some reason I’m the last number in your recents,” You spit through gritted teeth, as you pick up his call.
He smiles like a fool when he finally hears your voice, “I am dying,” He chuckles, playing with the rings on his fingers, “Dying to see you again,”
“Unbelievable,” You let out an outraged mumble. He can’t see you, but he knows you just rolled your eyes at his comeback.
If only you could see him now, you’d see his pupils are the shape of hearts as his eyes glint just imagining you reacting to him.
“Why did you call me? I’m kinda busy,” You burst his bubble, and he’s the one rolling his eyes now. Just the thought of your whereabouts and the company you keep right now is making his throat go dry.
“Oh, really?” He plays dumb, yet he knows he can’t fool you, “Was it tonight? I forgot about that,” He’s shameless, and he hears your scoffing.
“We literally talked about this last night, Hyuck,” His heart skips a bit at the way you call his name, because only people who are close to him can use his government name — and he certainly feels you being close to him, as much as neither of you have ever addressed this before.
“I must have forgotten,” His tone drips with fake innocence, a pout forming on his plump lips.
You hate that you can envision him right now — in his home attire, his fluffy hair unkept, only combed through by his fingers, glasses resting on the bridge of his pretty nose, bare feet taking steps between the living room and kitchen.
“So, what? Are you on a date right now?” He challenges, finally letting you know why he’s calling. You make a sound that he takes as a confirmation of his fears, “With Mr Lanky?”
“Donghyuck!” You warn, outraged and tired. “You’re lucky he’s gone to the restroom and couldn’t hear this useless conversation,”
“Oh, I don’t know, gorgeous,” He smirks to himself, “He’s been gone for a while. What if he’s got the runs after talking to a gorgeous girl like yourself?” His tone is low and, as much as you want to hang up the call, his voice makes your stomach flutter.
That, or the cheese soufflé is the one to blame.
“Come by later,” He rasps, and you almost think you didn’t hear him right, “If things are disastrous and he really shat himself… just come by,”
And he doesn’t wait to hear your reply. He doesn’t want to hear a smart comeback coming from you, but he hopes you’ll come to him.
And while you don’t show up to his place like he asked you, you certainly think about him for the rest of the night. Sungchan, who seemed like a knight in shiny armour when he picked you up, has suddenly shifted in your eyes — especially after the phone call from Donghyuck.
Your energy deflects, you’re sure the man across the table picks up on this as well. The more you look at him, the more you realise he just isn’t what you want and what you need.
His jokes aren’t obtuse, offensive, or genuinely funny either. The sparkle in his eyes is there only when he talks about work, and you hate that you reached a point in which you’re comparing him to the obnoxious person hunting your mind.
Truth be told, no one does it like him. You realise that even your past so-called rivalry between the two of you was something you missed while he was out there trying to conquer the world.
Suddenly, the night seems wasted. The cheese soufflé too insipid, the steak too dry, the company not what you were hoping for. And not because Sungchan is a bad guy with an abysmal personality, but because he’s not Donghyuck.
“Everything okay?” Sungchan asks you at some point, and you realise you haven’t been listening to him, and that he probably noticed.
You nod, giving him a small smile, just hoping that it’s enough to fool you both. Everything seemed to be going well until Donghyuck called you.
“Do you think you can send me a copy of the interview after you’re done with it?” You mumble absentmindedly, playing with the fork in your hand.
Sungchan smiles, teeth on display, “Y/n, I’m not here to talk about Haechan’s interview,” He announces, and a lump sets in your throat, “I wanted to have this opportunity to ask you out,”
Oh, you mouth as you find it difficult to keep your eyes on him.
He lets out a huff of laughter, albeit you know it’s not light and genuine, “But I guess it’s better if we keep our friendship this way, right?” He’s hurt, but he’s faking it not to make you uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, Sungchan, I didn-” You try to explain but he shakes his hand, smile still present on his lips.
“No worries! I dropped it on you out of the blue, I apologise for that!” He doesn’t have to apologise for his feelings, yet he does — literally thinking that he made you uncomfortable with his small and innocent confession.
Your chest suddenly hurts, and your eyes feel like they’re becoming fuller with unspoken feelings and emotions, and he pats your hand from across the table as he senses his mistake.
“I don’t want you to feel bad, ‘kay? We’re just at different places in our lives, even if your and someone else’s are perfectly aligned right now! I just had to shoot my shot, I hope you can understand,” He’s awfully comforting, and somehow if feels even heavier inside your chest.
You try to shake this strange feeling away, but your insides start churning at the unbearable thought that you rejected the man in front of you, and at the thought of your bubbling feelings that need to be addressed soon.
The door swings open, and you already think this is a bad idea. The smirk in the corner of his mouth confirms that maybe you were better off at home, in your pyjamas.
It’s been a few days since you last spoke to Donghyuck, and as much as you hate do admit it, your last interaction with Sungchan planted a thought in your brain. One that you can’t really ignore. Instead, you show up to his doorstep trying to get the answers you need.
“Wowza, gorgeous!” Donghyuck smirks, eyeing you from head to toe. He moves away from the doorway, allowing you to walk in, and you stop by the entrance. “I think you really like my place, that’s why you drop by all the time,” He rasps, eyes glinting, “That, or maybe you just like me,”
You roll your eyes, glance stopping on one picture by the entrance — that you didn’t notice last time you were here. Probably because his sleepy figure was standing in front of it, unknowingly blocking your view. You recognise the picture, it’s one of the last pictures you took with your friends as a whole group, back during your university years — before Jaemin relocated to another big city, before one of your girl friends got herself into rehab; back when everything seemed normal and felt whole. You spot yourself in a corner, hugging Jaemin and Yizhuo — your closest friends during university — and you spot Donghyuck in the other corner, smiling at the camera like he’s the sun itself.
It was one of the last outings you did as a group, right before graduation, and right before life got busy for all of you. Looking at all the faces in the picture, you realise that was one of the best trips you took, and you think of all the times Donghyuck made the outings better and less boring.
He sees how you’re getting lost in the nostalgia of the past, as your gaze travels along the faces in the picture. Truth be told, that picture is there for one reason only, and said reason is now looking at it with eyes full of emotion.
He looks at you once again. You look spectacular — black dress that kisses your curves and shapes the right way, your naked shoulders seem so soft and smooth and he has to fight the thought of what your skin might feel like under the burning skin of his hands.
You’re gorgeous, and a lump forms in his throat as he feels like you’ve never been more unattainable than right now.
Are you… perhaps…
“Going on a date?” He can’t help but ask. He sees as your gaze moves from the picture, to look at him, and you put the frame down, “How’s skid marks?” His tone is bored as he turns around to walk towards his kitchen island.
You take your heels off, and you follow him towards his kitchen with angry patters as your bare feet take steps on the hardwood floor.
“Don’t call him that!” You bark, his nickname for Sungchan suddenly upsetting you, “Be nice, he’s helping us,”
“Is he?” He asks, not interested in the slightest to hear your reply, “Is that why you’re going out on dates with him? Or is it because he’s your friend and I’m your client?” Suddenly he’s attentive like a vulture — he wants to hear your reply to this one question.
“Can you be serious for one moment?” You question, not wanting to bicker with him right now.
His cocky smirk makes an appearance, “I’m a prosecutor, Y/n. I can see you’re stalling,” He retorts, and he takes pleasure in seeing you biting your bottom lip, trying your best not to snap at him. “But alright, gorgeous. To what do I owe the immense pleasure of having you here tonight?”
You shift your weight from one leg to the other, and your hands go to your dress before you can control yourself.
“I was promised a dinner,” You purr, matter-of-factly.
Donghyuck wants to grin, but fights it. How did you manage to stay out of his life for so long? It’s beyond his understanding. You make him want to start howling at the moon like a depraved dog, which reminds him of how you called him a puppy before.
And remembering the way you looked up at him as you did so, touching him, talking down to him — it literally gives Donghyuck goosebumps. But he’s not ready to admit this to anyone other than himself so, instead, he does what he knows best — he acts like he’s unfazed.
He gets ready, as you look around his place. Despite him being home ever since he was put on unpaid leave, the whole place is spotless. You think it’s because he’s been living off take out all this time, and that he’s used one or maybe two cups to drink from, but you’re impressed either way.
He shows up wearing a tux, and he steps out of his dressing room manoeuvring a bow tie.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” You fake a gasp, “I didn’t know we were attending the fucking Oscars!”
He’s in front of the mirror, styling his bow tie while looking at you through the mirror. His eyes are piercing, he doesn’t dare look away — eyes locked onto yours — and he smirks.
“You did it first,” He points at your dress, “You thought we’d be staying in with you looking like that?!” He exaggerates, wrinkling his nose, “No way, baby,”
“Don’t call me that,” You mumble, moving towards the door, but you grab him by the sleeve to get his attention on you, “But do you think this is a good idea? Going out right now… with you and your problems?”
“Y/n,” He sighs, quickly checking his pockets for everything he needs before heading out, “You have to know me better than this by now… to know that it’s been so long that I don’t give a fuck anymore,” He opens the door for you, and this time you wait for him by the door, instead of walking in front of him towards the lifts, “And I can get us a table literally anywhere. Name the nicest place you wanna go to, and we can get in,”
“I think that’d be the case if you weren’t a prosecutor who turned into a disgraced tv personality,” You ridicule him as you walk on the long hallway, but he doesn’t seem too offended by it. You might be right, anyway.
“It’s worth trying, at least,” He shrugs, and then he turns around to look at you with that cocky smirk that’s so typical him.
“What?” You sigh, looking at the led arrows signalling where the lift is coming from.
“So basically you admitted to showing up looking like trouble, thinking we’d be staying home?” He rasps, stupid grin of victory on his face, and then he tsks, “You just wanted to seduce me,”
You punch him in the stomach, but he doesn’t flinch. Instead, you step inside the lift before he can register what you’re doing, “Let’s see how seduced you get by me making you take the stairs,” And you press the button, urging the doors to close before he can stop them with his foot or hand.
“That wasn’t very nice,” He retorts when you’re finally out on the street.
You discovered he has four luxury cars parked in the underground parking lot of his building, and given your dress code tonight, he went straight to the Porsche.
“But you did it nonetheless,” You point out, looking at the pedestrians crossing the street, “Just like a puppy,”
He doesn’t even fight it, because he knows you’re right. Instead, he chooses to ignore it for his own good.
He looks at you, as the red lights from the cars ahead contour your pretty features. And to think that out of endless possibilities you got back into his life by being his lawyer makes him feel like becoming a disgraced tv personality really helped him in his destiny. If it weren’t for his big, problematic mouth, he would have been alone and miserable right now — in his luxurious apartment, with his four cars parked underground, with lavish dinners and a reckless dating style. Instead, you showed up.
He can’t and won’t take it for granted.
“Where are you taking me?” Your voice is small, almost as if your mind is somewhere else.
“I have a few options, if they take us in,” He jokes, using your words, “Is there something you’re craving, gorgeous?”
You actually think about it. As you take your sweet time trying to think of something, your glance wanders around his car — and it finally lands on Donghyuck.
He’s relaxed, even as he speeds. His tux brings a certain air to him, like he’s the most expensive and most untouchable man on this entire planet. Confidence oozes from all his pores, even as he does nothing but keep a hand on the steering wheel — and you feel your insides churning, but you desperately hope for it to be because of hunger.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” You speak up before you can control yourself. His curiosity makes him throw you quick glances before his eyes go back to the road, seemingly taken by surprise by your change of tone. This isn’t going to be about food, and he knows it, “You were too good at what you were doing for you to be remembered by the public as nothing but a fragment of a proper scandal. It actually upsets me,”
Donghyuck doesn’t know what to answer, mainly because he doesn’t see it as you. He’s sorry you’re upset about this matter, and he wishes he could take it all away from you. He also wishes he could speak up and have a proper conversation about this topic and why he thinks you’re wrong, but it’s like his lips are sealed when it comes to speaking up about the matter.
He didn’t know you cared about him, or anything involving him — including his career — this much.
His silence feels heavy as your ears start ringing waiting for his answer, and it never comes. You’re left waiting as you listen to the purring of his Porsche’s engine, and at the way he breathes evenly — not rushed, not panicked, not even upset. He just breathes as he refuses to make any kind of comment to what you just told him. Did you really think that opening up about this to the guy with the biggest ego in the world was a good idea?
Too lost into your own worries and overthinking, you fail to notice how the car slows down, and then you finally notice him carefully looking for somewhere to park. You look outside the window, not recognising this side of the city.
“Do you remember the greasy, meat sandwiches we had on our last trip together?” He asks, and he actually sees how your gaze starts sparkling at the memory he just brought up, “It’s one of the things I’ve been craving the most lately, thinking about that day. And luckily for us, this guy right here seems to have the exact recipe,”
Never in a million years did you think you’d be having sandwiches with Donghyuck at the outskirts of the city, bought right from a street food truck, while the grease trailed down your forearms as you tried to keep it away from your outfit. Because obviously, looking straight out of a fashion magazine, like you’re ready to go to a charity gala and eat the most expensive food ever served to you could ever compare to seeing melted cheese and grease smudged on Donghyuck’s cheeks as he chewed his bite.
The first bite taken from your sandwich almost got a moan out of you, while Donghyuck’s got a proper grunt out of him.
It feels almost painful to admit that he’s right thinking this was something you’d end up enjoying. It helps you go back to the past, when his smile was more carefree, when his jokes were even more obtuse than nowadays, when the sparkle brought to his eyes during classes or fights with you was more prominent.
You know he’s hiding something, and you wish he’d open up to you — at least a little bit. But you don’t want him to shelter himself behind a shell you never knew he had. He’s always been loud, proud, morally upright — and something took that away from him.
“Tell me this sandwich isn’t so much better than sex,” He moans, mouth absolutely full to the point it’s difficult for him to chew.
You nearly knock the tall glass of non-alcoholic beer you’ve been sharing with him, and you give him a quizzical look.
“What kind of odd experiences have you been having?” Your tone is high in pitch, full of disbelief.
“Oh, c’mon,” He swallows his bite, “Like you’ve never had a bad experience? With a man? Hard to believe,”
“Were your bad experiences also with men?” You pout at him sympathetically, almost on the verge of pinching his cheek and ridiculing him.
He lets out a howl of laughter, almost choking, “Touché,” He comments, licking his lips, all content with the progression of your conversation.
The interaction quiets down, and you see him eyeing you curiously before going back to his sandwich. But you know him just too well, and as expected, he throws the ball in your court after taking a big sip from your shared beer.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” He smiles softly, setting down his sandwich on the aluminium foil on the high table. When he sees you nodding, he waits a few more seconds, “Why did you not become a prosecutor?” He asks, cleaning his hands with a wet wipe — definitely needed in order to get rid of all the grease.
When he sees your questioning gaze, seemingly not understanding the question — or where it’s coming from, he clears his throat. “I mean, you had the skills. You and I were unbeatable at what we were doing, so when I didn’t see you in the field as one of my colleagues, I got worried. I was thinking you wasted so much potential being God knows where, doing God knows what. I had no idea of your whereabouts because, God is my witness, I really looked for you as a last resort to try and reach out and make you change your mind,” He rasps, but his tone is gentle, and it brings you comfort, “So where the hell have you been?”
You guess this is a good start for the candid conversation you were planning on starting with him, but didn’t know how to approach him first. Almost because you opened a small door earlier, during the car ride, and he seemed like he closed it shut in the blink of an eye.
You set your sandwich down on the foil, right next to his, and you grab one of the wet wipes he extends towards you.
“Becoming a prosecutor was never my goal,” You admit, cleaning the corners of your mouth, “I always wanted to study law to help the underprivileged. Yes, prosecuting bad guys always seems like the best choice when you think of a career in law and the whole concept of justice. But what about the people who can’t afford to be represented in court by someone who’s actually capable and confident with their skills? What about the NPO’s and charities that need someone to represent them? What about the people?”
He looks at you, at the small crease between your brows as you get so passionate about your love for your job, and he has the next question he wants to ask you, on the tip of his tongue. Yet you beat him to it.
“Why did you throw out a successful and rewarding career? Just to become a tv host?” You ask him. This question has been bothering you ever since you stumbled upon his show on television, right after he gave up his career.
“It’s more complicated than that,” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, and you understand that it really doesn’t come easy to him to open up about this change. So it really wasn’t about him loving being in the centre of attention on television, and the shift to a career in this field that could mean fulfilling this crazy need for attention faster. You judged him too harshly, even if it’s just Donghyuck.
“Then open up to me!” You plead, because it’s something you need to understand about him, “I’m the one that can understand you on this, better than anyone else,”
You’re right. Donghyuck knows this, and as much as he would have loved to tease you a bit for your choice of words and wanting to get closer to him, he refrains, understanding this is not the right time for this, for neither one of you.
“Everything was going well, I was on a roll,” He starts, finally giving in. If he wants to get somewhere with you, anywhere near where he wants you two to be, he needs to open up and finally face his past. “My success rate was unbeatable and, as you might have seen, they even talked me into helping people on national television,” He looks straight ahead, thinking of the past few years and what he’s gone through, “They made me their product and I enjoyed the money and the attention, this is one of the truths,” He clears his throat, reaching for the cold beer.
So what? Is that all he has to say about this drastic change in his life? You wonder to yourself. Were you right from the beginning? Did he really do it for the attention?
“But another truth is that… I did something I can never forgive myself for, not even today,” His voice breaks, and he’s still avoiding your gaze, “One of the last cases I worked on was just… atrocious. We’re talking about abuse of the worst kind, and it all ended with murder. This motherfucker murdered his entire family… and he got away with it,”
Realising the gravity of the story he’s telling you, you keep your mouth shut.
He takes a big breath, “Someone tampered with key pieces of evidence in the case, so he walked out of court almost trotting. That piece of shit was beaming with satisfaction, and for the first time ever I could do nothing about it,”
Your weight shifts from one leg, to the other, “Any internal investigation that could find the culprit?”
He nods, finally looking at you, and you get to see just how affected he still is by the whole matter, even if it’s been a while since it happened. Something this big always stays with you.
He licks his lips, “Of course! I started an internal investigation to find answers, but then after a while I got a call from my higher ups telling me to drop it,” He pauses for a few seconds, and then lets out a ridiculing scoff, “Of course I didn’t! What kind of prosecutor with a moral compass does that?!”
You think you have a faint idea of where this story is headed. He’s getting upset, eyebrows furrowed as he recalls his past.
“It took a call from a politician to threaten me, for me to stop the investigation. That’s also when I decided to quit,” His voice is small, yet upset.
He’s playing with a peace of foil on the table, wrinkling and then smoothing it, and your eyes fall on his crooked pinky.
“But!” He snaps, suddenly back to having a good mood, and the enthusiasm takes you by surprise. “My turn!” He picks up your sandwich, taking a bite of it. “Why did you quit your career to become a corporate lawyer?” His mouth is full, but you understand him nonetheless.
He keeps his eyes on you as you pick up his sandwich, and you shrug, “I needed a change,” You avert your gaze, looking at where his teeth sank into the soft bread, “I needed to see if there were more exciting things out there,”
“And how did that work out for you?” He giggles, thinking of the irony of your choice. You wanted to help the underprivileged, yet you ended up working for a corporation straight out of hell.
He looks at you, and he can’t believe just how beautiful you are. You features are so soft in the food truck’s lighting, your skin literally shines in the cold hues.
He sees you taking a bite from the sandwich you’re holding — his sandwich, and a smirk plays in the corner of his mouth.
“You know we’re basically kissing right now, right?” He rasps, squinting his eyes at you while he sports a shit-eating grin.
You roll your eyes at him, “Your kiss is greasy,” You retort almost instantly, dropping the last bits of sandwich back on the foil, and you clean the corners of your mouth.
“Yours is worse,” He mumbles, side eyeing you.
“What are you even talking about?” You’re confused by his nonsense, eyes scanning him from head to toe as he takes another bite from your sandwich.
You find yourself gawking once again. He seems so relaxed, so comfortable around you, so confident even to be in public making a mess on his face when literally anybody can see him — not just you anymore.
And it hits you. Since when did you think you and him were close enough to imagine yourself as the sole person allowed to see him in all sorts of circumstances? Your long history of knowing each other has never properly allowed you to go there with your thoughts, and yet you did — and it makes you feel completely out of place.
Yet for some reason, you’ve always felt comfortable around him. Thinking of it now that he shuts up and lets you be alone with your thoughts for a little bit, you think of the past. Never, not even once — not even when you wanted to kill him for starting a contradicting argument for his sole entertainment — did you feel like he repulsed you.
“See for yourself,” He bursts your bubble, and your eyes get back in focus as you look at his tan forearms, while he extends your sandwich towards you. “I know you didn’t believe me. Take a bite,”
You throw him a skeptical look, and you see his eyes studying your face closely, searching for something. But you give in, nonetheless. And you touch his hand as he directs the sandwich to your lips.
And then, he snatches his hand away, his lips smacking yours instead. It happens in a split second, and you don’t even have the time to register it happening, but it doesn't feel bad, or wrong. He retracts for a bit, the hand holding the greasy piece of bread far away from your figure, and he grabs your chin with his fingers.
His thumb travels, caressing his way up from your chin to your bottom lip, and he keeps studying your face for any sign that this might not be what you want right now. And the moment he feels your eyes on his lips, and sees you kicking your lips out of habit, he bends down once again.
His kiss is fervent, almost desperate, like he feeds off of it. His lips are just as plump and soft as you thought they would be, and you don’t even think twice before parting your lips, granting him access. It feels hot, something you’ve never experienced before — not from a single kiss, anyway.
His free hand travels towards the side of your face, fingers combing through your hair to pull you even closer. His abilities are to be praised right now, as he gets to control you to get you to do anything he puts his mind to with one hand only, the other still kept away from your bodies.
The kiss gets deeper and heated fast, while neither one of you feels like pulling away. This might be a monumental mistake, but it surely doesn’t feel like that right now. Right now, you think you’re exactly where you want to be — while Donghyuck is absolutely certain he is where he’s always wanted to be.
Your hands go up his neck, which has gotten incredibly hot, and you keep him close to yourself as your fingers play with the longer strands of hair from behind his ears. He grunts into the kiss, and you suddenly become breathless.
He retracts slightly, eyes still closed as he keeps giving you small pecks, allowing the both of you to get your breathing back to normal, as gracefully as possible.
“Was my kiss greasy?” He rasps, tone low sending shivers down your spine.
You gulp, keeping your eyes closed, “No,” You shake your head almost imperceptibly, but he feels you moving your face in his grip, “But your greasy hand is in my hair,” You open your eyes just a bit, looking at him through your lashes, and you see him smirking.
“Shhhh, don’t ruin our moment,” He nudges your nose with his, then going back to pecking your lips.
And you give in once again, feeling his fingers pulling you towards him.
Your leg bounces as you sit on one of the leather armchairs in the waiting room, right outside of your boss’s office.
Anxiety is pooling in the pit of your stomach like never before, not even when you had stressful cases on your hands did you ever feel like this. It makes you sweat, it makes you want to throw up, especially because you know you’re in big trouble.
You woke up with a terrible headache, like your body was preparing you for impact first thing in the morning, like it was giving you a sign that a shit storm was coming your way and that the headache was just the tip of the iceberg.
And then you checked your phone. Texts, missed calls from Johnny, articles about you and Donghyuck. Apparently all the times you warned him about the press being on his trails should have been a reminder for you as well, because you appear together in all the pictures published.
Pictures of you and him strolling around the street, pictures of you and him spotted shopping together. Pictures of you two at the studio, when the two of you were bickering, except no one knows that. From the looks of it, it seems like you two are being very close, to the point of Donghyuck grabbing you — which is totally true, but the circumstances were absolutely different than what they’re being made to seem like in these pictures. And then, the worst of all, pictures from two nights ago, when you and Donghyuck made out in the middle of the night right in front of the food truck, and then in his car — and there’s no excuse or any other explanation for these last pictures, there’s no way you can deny it. It’s all out there for everyone to see, like a reminder that lines have been crossed and you acted recklessly.
You didn’t even try to call him, to try and talk to him about this, to try to find a version of a story plausible as to why the two of you — a lawyer and her client — were eating each other’s faces the other night.
Instead, you called Johnny and came to the headquarters as soon as you managed to calm down the erratic beating of your heart.
You’re sure everyone around has heard the news or seen the pictures, and you fear of what they might be thinking of you right now. You’ve never been a fan of judgement, and being in the limelight now makes you incredibly anxious.
Your temples are still throbbing, your throat is dry, and it feels like you’re living a nightmare. And right as you think about this, the lift dings, announcing someone is about to come out, and then you see him — your real nightmare.
The man that turned your world upside down with just a smack of lips and a foul mouth full of smart comebacks and obnoxious jokes. He spots you right as he steps out of the lift.
“Good morning, gorgeous!” He takes a seat right next to you, on the other armchair, “What brings you here so early?”
You look at him, genuinely wondering what is wrong with him. He looks at you like an innocent puppy, eyebrows raised and lips pouting, all while he swings his leg from left to right as he sits leisurely.
“Are you being for real right now? Did you not see the news?” You bark at him, ready to start punching him. You’re at your limit, and he’s on very thin ice right now.
He shakes his head, shrugging with innocence, “Johnny called me in as soon as I woke up, so I didn’t really have the time to be on my phone,” He explains, and you believe him — knowing that he’s not the type to be on his phone, given all the times he hasn’t picked up your calls or replied to your work emails as proof of this. “Why? What happened?”
“You and I happened,” You point your index finger, moving it between you two.
“Right,” He smirks, and you genuinely think he’s doing it to provoke you into hurting him, “It certainly is a good morning!”
“Hyuck!” You slap his leg, turning towards him. The crease on your forehead is terribly cute to him, and he feels an urge to kiss your worries away — even if it might put his life in danger. “This is serious. There are pictures everywhere! We’re in so much trouble, and Johnny has been on the phone all morning,” You explain, and then you sigh, “What do you think they’re gonna do to us?”
He looks at you like he doesn’t understand what it is you want from him, “I don’t know, gorgeous,” He shrugs, feigning innocence, “They might have to hang us right outside this building,”
“See?! This is exactly the kind of shit you end up saying that gets you in trouble!” You cry, getting upset with him not taking anything seriously.
He can see you’re getting worked up over this issue, and even if he feels bad for upsetting you with his jokes, he finds it incredibly endearing for some reason.
“You’re right, but let me ask you a question,” He turns his body to face yours, almost sitting on the edge of the cushion, “Now that we’re addressing this properly,” He moves his hand between your bodies, “My joke from that night wasn’t that bad, right?”
You roll your eyes, looking the other way as you try not to snap at him, “No, it was pretty good actually,” You confess, remembering that after the initial shock of seeing him making such joke on national television subsided, you let out a howl of laughter, “Too bad some people have boundaries they don’t joke about,”
“Thank you!” He lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing into his seat, almost as if your last line didn’t make it to his ears, “I agree that I should have made that joke in a different environment, but the backlash was too strong for just a simple joke,” He concludes, mumbling as if he wants you to know he’s not that bad as a person.
The office door opens, and a very stressed Johnny appears in the doorway, “Y/n, get in,” He calls your name, but his gaze shifts to Donghyuck, “Great, you’re here too,” He doesn’t seem too ecstatic, and Donghyuck certainly does not appreciate the coldness of his boss’s tone, “Get in,”
You enter the office, taking a seat on the velvety couch in the corner of Johnny’s office. He sits across from you, and gives you a smile.
“I’d say we have a problem,” He relaxes into his seat, crossing his legs.
“And I’d agree,” You reply, noticing with the corner of your eye how Donghyuck’s head snaps to the side to look at you.
Johnny nods in understanding, seemingly content that you’re on the same page regarding this issue, “But we’d both be so wrong!”
“What?” You squeak, getting on the edge of your seat. You’re so confused right now, you squirm your eyes while looking at your boss.
“See, dearest… the dating scandal brought you into the limelight, and people seem to be talking about you more than Haechan’s controversial joke,” Johnny explains, and you still don’t understand what the good part is to all this, “People are going to be curious about your life, and truth be told Y/n, your record is impeccable. They’ll talk about you, they’ll say you’re the perfect match for Haechan, and everything will calm down.” He claps his hands, satisfied with his explanation, “See? Everything will work out perfectly! I talked to our PR team and, between us, this is the perfect move! How did you end up thinking of this? This was a genius move!”
You look at him, still confused, and then your gaze shifts to look at Donghyuck, who looks back at you just as confused.
“Erm…” You clear your throat, tilting your head, “We didn’t do it as a PR move,” You explain, still very much confused. So much that your words come out as a question.
Johnny opens his mouth, surprised, and then points at you, “Oh well, in this case… Congrats!” He looks at Donghyuck, “And good luck to you!” He eyes you this time, still smiling.
After being dismissed from Johnny’s office, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The headache is now gone, you feel like you can finally go back to relaxing after an entire morning spent thinking you’re three heartbeats away from having a stroke.
You’re pretty much at peace with the fact that they’re going to focus on desiccating your past for a while, thus giving Donghyuck a bit of space after a long time. You’re not as problematic, you don’t make bad jokes, you’ve always been in your lane — and have always done your best to be respectful and good at doing your job, as best as you could. You’re sure that your life isn’t nearly as fascinating as Donghyuck’s, but you really don’t mind.
Even as you walk inside his luxurious building and towards his apartment, Donghyuck follows your steps. He smiles at the thought that, even after weeks, he’s still following you wherever you’re going — and it doesn’t matter that you don’t have a key to his place. He looks at how determined your strut is, like the place is yours and not the other way around.
“What?” You ask him, not accustomed to having him silenced for so long.
“Nothing,” He opens the door for you to walk in, still in front of him, “I might have to give you a key to my place,” He says nonchalantly, like it’s not a big deal.
You choke on air, and you turn around to give him a horrified look, “A key?! Already?” You’re in disbelief, and quite frankly terrified of this man’s pace, “We haven’t talked about this stuff yet,”
“What is there to talk about?” He asks, and he seems genuinely confused. He seems relaxed, very comfortable with your presence even if you haven’t even been able to define your relationship yet.
“This,” You point your finger at him, and then towards yourself, “We haven’t even defined what we are. We have stuff to talk about, and steps to take,”
He snaps his head to look at you, shaking it all confused and with his eyes squinting, “Again… what is there to talk about? Just move in, gorgeous, we can talk at home,” He’s serious as he approaches you, grabbing you by the chin before he guides your face to get closer to his.
His lips capture yours in a sweet yet passionate kiss. They're soft on top of yours, and for a moment he gets lost in the taste of your lip balm, “Is this enough to label us?” He rasps, letting you go before he starts heading towards his dressing room.
When you fail to answer, he comes back, bare feet loud on the hardwood floor, “You’re stalling. Again,” He warns, getting closer to you once again, “I don’t like that. I want things to be quick, precise, orderly. And I want you, Y/n,”
His confession sets a lump in your throat that’s hard to gulp down, words suddenly too difficult to get out of you.
“Years passed and regrets amassed, and not acting upon my desires at the right time made me miserable. I don’t want that for myself, and I thought my intentions were clear enough for you to understand that I don’t need a label to define us, because I quite literally want to put the world at your feet, Y/n,” He speaks, and you try to fight a smile from creeping up on your features, “You came back into my life and you rocked my world and knocked some sense into me, one that was long forgotten and which I ended up despising. I will not sit back and watch you slip through my fingers again,”
He looks silly, but it makes your chest fill with warmth as you see his pout while he concludes his statement. He’s standing in front of you, wearing his pyjama shorts which he managed to change into right before he felt the need to come back and chew your ears off, and he’s still wearing his light blue shirt, cardigan discarded of as soon as he stepped back inside.
“This reminds me just how good you are with argumentation,” You grin, but he knows you heard him loud and clear, and you’re not out the door — so that must mean you’re not turning him down, “Is this gonna be our thing? We get off complimenting each other on our argumentation skills?” The thought seems horrifying, but it gets a snort of laughter out of Donghyuck, nonetheless.
He shakes his head, unbuttoning his shirt. “I have a few other ways to get us off,”
“Is that so?” You purr, desire suddenly making your insides melt.
Your eyes fall on the tanned skin of his chest, trailing all the way down to your favourite spot — the V line. He gets closer to you with dangerously slow steps, like he has you exactly where he wants, where he’s planned to have you all along.
Just one quick glance up to his face, with your gaze locking into his, and the look he’s giving you makes you suddenly want to avert your gaze. He’s confident, proud, standing upright, walking towards you like he’s literally going to take a bite out of you — not that you would mind, anyway.
He stops in front of you, his breath hitting your face as you suddenly feel small, shy to look up at him. His gaze feels intimidating, and makes your skin burn with desire, your flimsy blouse suddenly too clingy and too uncomfortable on your skin.
“I need to know, gorgeous,” He mumbles, slender fingers playing with a strand of your hair, pushing it back behind your ear, “What about that spare key,”
You hum with delight, stretching your arms around his neck, glueing your clothed chest to his bare one, and his hands travel hungrily behind your back with a tight grip.
“I think I’ll have no choice but to agree. The prosecution side had a very compelling argument,” You sing, finally looking up at him, and he keeps his mouth awfully close to yours, but your lips don’t touch.
He hums, nose nudging yours, and you can feel his fingers traveling under your blouse, fingertips touching your ardent skin and giving you goosebumps.
It makes you literally burn up with desire. His fingers squeeze your sides and the pressure feels almost too good given the force with which he’s doing it, all because of how much he wants you right now. His arms are around you in a split second, and you don’t even realise he’s taken you off the ground, determined steps making their way towards where you suppose his bedroom is.
Normally, you’d look around yourself, but right now your mouth is too busy on his, tongues clashing as he moans into the kiss. Your fingers travel around his nape, up all the way into his hair, pulling gently at his strands — getting a proper grunt out of him.
He puts you down, bare feet planted on what feels like a rug right by the foot of the bed, and he plays with the waistband of your pants, pulling them down but leaving your panties on.
You push him back on the bed, and you get on top of him — you can feel he’s already rock hard, and your mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting him. His hot mouth is on your neck, tongue playing around and leaving wet trails everywhere it can get, one of his free hands travels to your back to unhook your bra, helping you getting rid of your blouse and bra in a split second.
You feel like you’re on a cloud, high on desire and pleasure — he could literally manoeuvre you around and you wouldn’t realise. His hands keep you steady on his lap, on top of his hard-on, not allowing you to move because he’d quite literally lose his mind if you gave him even the slightest friction.
He keeps his mouth busy, lips kissing the plush of your breasts before his mouth latches onto your nipple, and he grunts with pleasure now that it finally dawns on him that he’s getting all of you to himself.
“So, so gorgeous, my baby,” He breathes on your swollen nip, right before his mouth latches onto the other, and hearing his airy praise from him has you moaning, head tilted to the side as you get lost in the pleasure, and you can’t help but move your hips on top of his lap.
He moans, fingers digging forcefully into your hips to stop you, yet the force with which he’s doing it makes you even more aroused.
His moan vibrates around your nipple, and you push at his shoulders slightly, clearly giving him instructions on what to do. All the bullshit he pulled a while back about being your puppy and not taking orders from you? Totally bluffing. The man would do anything you’d ask of him, no questions asked.
You look at him in all his glory, admiring every single inch of his skin. Your fingers travel to the waistband of his pyjama shorts, and your nails pull at it, trying to move them out of the way. With a tiny bit of help from him, you managed to discard of the clothing item right before your gaze falls back on him, and you nearly let a gasp escape you.
Perfectly girthy, one vein travels from the base of his cock all the way up to his leaking tip. Trimmed at the base, his happy trail travels up his lower stomach, and you can’t resist the urge to graze it with your nail — going from his belly all the way back to the base of his cock, where you gently grab him.
You bend down on top of him, and he doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. But you don’t allow him to enjoy your lips for too long, as they move down to travel on his jaw and across his chest, breath fanning over all the wet spots your lips leave behind. You finally stop your journey on his chest, where you playfully graze his nip with your teeth, while your eager hand gets back on his cock, squeezing his base lightly before travelling further down, making him grunt at the feeling.
“Stop,” He’s out of breath, and the sound of his voice — laced with desperation and lust — makes your walls throb around nothing, “Please,” He pleads, throwing his head back.
The image of him being totally at your mercy makes you feral, almost like you want to continue your ministrations just to get more out of him. But it’s too much even for you, at least for right now, so you take pity on both of you.
You bend down, kissing his tip quickly before you take him inside the warmth of your mouth.
“Fuck!” He bucks his hips up, “I don’t think you should do this,” He’s almost crying, and his hands go up to his head in order to grab strands of hair he can pull at.
But you ignore him. Flattening you tongue as you take all of him, you indulge in the pleasure of finally being able to suck him off. Salty and heavy on your tongue as you move your head up and down slowly, you moan around him, and for a moment you think Donghyuck is going to throw you off and away from himself.
You touch him one last time after you release his cock with a pop!, and he lands forcefully on his back once again.
“I think you’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles, breathlessly as he lays unmoving, waiting to catch his breath a bit. He’s painfully hard, tip still leaking with precum, but he raises his head when he feels you getting on top of him. “No,” He shakes his head, “Wanna taste you first,”
You feel like you could cry. You want to have him in all the ways possible, yet it’s becoming unbearable for you to be deprived of any proper friction.
“Maybe later,” You tell him, already sliding your panties down your legs, “I need to feel you inside of me,” You moan as you sit on him for a bit, and he swears he can feel your clit throbbing on top of his unmoving and hard shaft.
You align him at your entrance, throwing your soaked panties at his head — and he doesn’t even bother to catch them on time. They land on his face, and he only moves one hand to grab them and keep them close for just a tiny bit to be able to smell your scent.
His eyes become glossy the moment you sink down on him, painfully slowly, and he can’t help the moan that rumbles out of his chest.
“Fuck, fuck, baby,” He curses through gritted teeth, sucking his stomach in a few times, “I don’t think I can- I don’t think I’ll last,”
He overestimates your willpower right now, because he’s not aware that your insides are melting with lust and pleasure, feeling the need to feel him all the way deeply inside of you.
The moment you start undulating your hips, walls squeezing him deliciously, he looks down at where your bodies meet, and he can’t help himself from bringing his thumb so you can get off faster. You moan at the friction his thumb provides you every time your clit hits against it as you move your hips, and he swears the sounds you’re making are not helping his cause right now, already feeling like he’s on the verge of spilling inside of you.
Instead, his thumb does the right thing, and you reach your climax fast, surprising him. It comes in powerful, delightful waves that are prodding you to go on and continue your movements, and Donghyuck is too lost in the image of you climaxing on top of him to remember to take his thumb away from your sensitive clit.
Your thighs are burning, everything below the belt feels like it’s about to melt, but you stretch your hands up to his chest as your hips keep rocking on top of his. He’s speechless, he’s feeling too many things, especially because he’s been on the receiving end all the time, and this way he found it easier to get lost in all the pleasure he’s been feeling.
He raises his head a bit, in order to have a better look at you, and he opens his arms before his hands travel to your hips.
You bend down, teeth grazing his jaw before you remember something, and you smirk as you get right up. Your hand travels to his neck, hand wrapping around the sides of his throat and putting the right amount of pressure.
His eyes become the size of saucers as he looks up at you, trying his best not to let out all the moans catching in his throat.
You giggle, and the sound of it has Donghyuck throbbing, “What happened to my talkative puppy boy?” You pout, delighted at seeing him squirming.
The choice of words, your tone, your relentless riding, the pressure around his neck, and the way your walls are squeezing him too tightly, it all becomes too much for Donghyuck to bear, and you see him rolling his eyes back before he lets out the loudest moan from the pit of his ribcage — and that alone is enough to turn you on again.
But you give in, stopping your movements yet still keeping him inside of you, and you collapse on his chest. You’re too spent to keep yourself upright right now, and Donghyuck feels limp as he tries to gather his bearings.
You place your hand on his chest, drawing soothing circles as you wait for him to catch his breath, an you giggle when you hear him cursing. His sweaty skin sticks to yours, and he grabs your hand to bring it to his lips.
He keeps you close, he’s literally where he wants to be — with your weight on top of him, he feels like this is the safest and best place for him.
He raises his head, looking at your intertwined bodies, right before a stupid but spent smirk shows up on his face, “Given our last activity, I think I just proved to you that I don’t need deodorant,”
You smack his chest when you register his words, but giggle nonetheless because only Donghyuck could get to ruin a moment by bringing this nonsense up.
“Pervert,” You move on top of him just slightly, but it’s enough to make him suck air through his teeth.
He smirks, voice already raspy as he mumbles out loud, “Oh, you have no idea!”
AUTHOR'S NOTE: SPEAKING MY TRUTH: we need to see more of obsessed and pervert!hyuck around (◞‸◟,) thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for me to drop fics from this series! this series means a lot to me and im not planning to abandon it, in case you were wondering — it's just that i have to be in the right place with my creativity <3 i hope you enjoyed this one, and i'll see you babies for the next one! ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა