FUCCKKKKK. SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP he looks insaneeee. Like Victorian men died over this probably. Why did seeing him in curly/wavy hair make me forget every coping mechanism I ever learnt. Like this genuinely feels exactly like seeing your ex after you finally started healing. HE LOOKS TO GOODDD!!! dada heeđ§ââïž
âŠthat hair lowkey has to be fried tho⊠like his hair has got to be on life support. Donât get me wrong he looks breathtaking but i know that hair routine is just prayers and conditioner and is one bleach session away from retirement.
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welcome back pls never leave again if that jungwon hard thought is what you have stored up in your beautiful brain you must stay and share and write more sadist!jungwon cause i am in dire need after that
this is the funniest welcome back iâve ever received đ âsadist!jungwonâ is taking me OUT but also⊠noted. no promises, but my brain is definitely cooking somethingâŠ
i am working on When the Silence Breaks (i havenât forgotten i swear đ), itâs just gonna take me a bit to get it where i want it to be.
so until then⊠expect more enhypen thoughts, especially jungwon, because something is actually wrong with me when it comes to him and heâs clearly not leaving my brain anytime soon.
also my inbox is always open for asks, thoughts, or anything you guys wanna see <3
W/C: 5.3k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Oral (fem receiving), Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Power Imbalance/Control, Possessive Behaviour (only if you squint), Crying, Light degradation, 18+ content. Minors dni Pairing: Rough Dom!Yang Jungwon x Fem!Reader Genre: Smut, Dark romance (slightly), Intimacy AU: Established Relationship
a/n: not me coming back from the dead with this⊠sorry for going ghost the past couple of months, pls accept this as my peace offering. This has been rotting in drafts for a WHILE and I finally decided to finish it because I strongly believe in munch jungwon supremacy and I had to feed the agenda. Hope u guys enjoy <3
Jungwon's fingers trace the hollow of your throat, a touch so light it sends a shiver down your spine despite the heat clinging to your skin.
The room glows in soft gold, lamplight spilling across tangled sheets, across him, across you, turning everything into something slower, heavier. Intimate in a way that feels almost suffocating.
You've already lost count of how many times he's brought you to the edge tonight, Lost count of how many times youâve fallen apart for him.
And still, he isnât done.
"I want to see you fall apart for me again," he murmurs against your ear, breath hot and moist. His thumb presses into the pulse point on your neck, feeling it race under his touch. "Just one more."
Youâre already exhausted, but he isnât. He never is.
You want to protest that you can't, that you're already too sensitive, but the words dissolve into a gasp as his hand slides lower, tracing patterns on your overheated skin. Every nerve ending feels electric, sparking to life at the slightest stimulation. The room smells of sweat and your combined scents, an intimate aroma that surrounds you both.
His name falls from your lips like a prayer as he positions himself between your trembling thighs like he belongs there, like thereâs nowhere else heâd rather be, completely consumed by you even though heâs wrung out countless orgasms out of you. The anticipation alone is almost enough to send you over again, your body arching toward his touch before he's even made contact.Â
Your fingers thread through his hair, gripping tighter than you mean to, while your other hand twists into the sheets. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, your body already sensitive, already too aware of him.
And he knows.
Jungwon's tongue traces your entrance with deliberate slowness, savouring the way your body responds to every touch. You're already so sensitive from previous orgasms that this gentle exploration sends electric currents through your entire body. Your fingers tangle in the sheets, twisting the fabric as you try to ground yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.
He moves slower this time.
Not because heâs tired; but because he wants to drag it out.
Each slow roll of his tongue is deliberate; agonizingly slow, like he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece. His hands trail up your sides, rough fingers grazing your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Every movement feels intentional, controlled, like heâs studying you, like heâs memorizing exactly what makes you fall apart.
He knows exactly what heâs doing.
Taking his time. Pushing you right to the edgeâagain and again.
God, he could drive you insane.
And he knows it.
His hand moves slowly, deliberate, tracing up your leg, not rushing, not pushing.
Just feeling.
Like heâs reminding you he can. Like heâs reminding you how easily he gets to you.
Your breath stutters. He notices, of course he does.
The air changes.
Everything slows but somehow feels heavier at the same time.
His touch isnât rushed. Itâs worse than that. Measured. Intentional.
Like heâs building something, piece by piece, just to watch it collapse.
âSay it,â he says suddenly against your core, voice quieter now but sharper. âTell me you donât want this.â
You open your mouth and nothing comes out.
Because you canât, because it would be a lie and he knows it.
A small, almost satisfied smile tugs at his lips.
âThought so.â
Your head falls back slightly, your breathing uneven now, your body reacting in ways you canât control anymore.
Itâs too much.
And not enough at the same time.
âYou always get like this,â he murmurs, almost thoughtfully. âAct like you canât take it⊠but you never tell me to stop.â
Your stomach drops.
Because heâs right, again.
He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire, watching every expression that crosses your face. "You taste so good after you come for me," he murmurs against your inner thigh before returning to his task. "Especially when you're this sensitive."
His words alone make you clench around nothing, and when he finally sinks his tongue into you, you cry out. This time he doesn't hold back, licking and sucking with renewed purpose. The flat of his tongue presses against your clit, circling with just the right pressure to build that familiar tension deep in your stomach.
His hand shifts slightly, grounding you when your body tenses, when everything starts building too fast, too tight.
âF-fuck⊠I canâtâŠâ your voice comes out weaker than you expect, barely holding together.
He pauses just slightly, not enough to stop, just enough to make you feel it.
A low hum then vibrates against you; dark, pleased, as his tongue presses just a little deeper. His hands slide down, gripping your hips firmly as you writhe beneath him, like heâs pleased with exactly where you are.
Your reactions? Heâs drinking them in.
âCanât what, baby?â he murmurs, voice thick, teasing between slow, torturous flicks. âCanât take it? Canât come?â
His hands press more firmly against your hips, keeping you grounded as your body shifts restlessly beneath him.
He pulls back just enough for your eyes to meet; to look at you â to really look at you.
Flushed, breathless, completely undone.
And thereâs something in his expression that makes your stomach twist.
Not softness.
Not comfort.
Something deeper. Sharper.
âThen donât,â he says quietly.
But the second the words leave him he doesnât give you the chance. He dove back in, relentless.
You let out a broken sound, your legs instinctively trying to close, your body overwhelmed by how much everything feels but his hands are already there. Grip tightening on your thigh, holding them open, giving you no escape, holding you in place.
"Uh-uh, no." he chided, lips hovering over your core. His breath is hot against you, teasing, as he glances up; brown eyes meeting yours.
His tongue brushes over you again; light, teasing as you still struggling in his grip
âHey,â he murmurs, almost like a warning, his voice low as his gaze flicks up to yours. âStay.â
Thereâs something about the way he says it that makes you listen.
Even when your body wants to pull away.
âYou agreed,â he reminds you, softer now, but no less intense. âRemember?â
You do.
And that somehow makes it worse.
Your head falls back slightly as he continues tongue fucking you, your grip in his hair tightening as your thoughts blur together. You donât even know if youâre trying to pull him closer or push him away anymore.
âJungwonâI canâtââ your voice cracks, tears slipping down your temples, your body trembling from the intensity.
Something shifts in his expression when he sees that. His grip tightens, grounding. Those tears, he knew they werenât from discomfort; just the immense pleasure he can give you. He knows itâs a lot. Knows youâre overwhelmed. But the sight of you like this; completely wrecked because of him, does something to him.
âCanât?â he repeats softly, eyes dark. âYou said I had all day.â
His tongue drags over you again, slow, deliberate.
âJungwonâŠâ his name comes out uneven, barely a whisper.
His reaction is instant. A shift in the air. A flicker of something in his eyes.
He leans in again, slower now, more deliberate, like heâs savouring the way you say his name.
âSay it again,â he murmurs.
You shake your head weakly, overwhelmed, your body already trembling under his touch.
âI canâtââ
âYes, you can.â
His voice is firmer this time. Not harsh. But steady. Grounding as you repeat his name.
His hands move again; not rushing, just holding you in place, keeping you from drifting too far, from completely losing yourself. As he dives in again
Your back arches off the bed, hips rolling instinctively to meet his movements. "Jungwon, please," you gasp, not even sure what you're begging for; more or less or both simultaneously.
He responds by sliding two fingers inside you, curving them just right against that spot that makes your vision blur. The dual stimulation is almost too much, his tongue working your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, finding that perfect rhythm that has you climbing higher and higher.
âIâve got you,â he says quietly against your clit, and this time it sounds different.
Not teasing. Not playful. Something real.
Your breath stutters. Because you believe him.
Even when everything feels too much, you trust him.
Thatâs what makes it dangerous.
Thatâs what makes it impossible to pull away.
Your body reacts before you can think, your back arching slightly, a broken sound breaking from your throat, your fingers tightening in his hair as your thoughts scatter.
A low, primal hum vibrates from his chest as he drinks in every broken sound, every desperate arch of your back. Your grip in his hair; tight, frantic, is the only thing grounding him to reality.
âThat's itâŠâ his voice drops against your skin, softer now, like heâs speaking just for you. His hot breath mingling with wet heat. âTake it allâŠlet go for meâŠdonât fight it.â
His tongue works you ruthlessly, fast deep circles with a mix of sucking. His movements are more focus now, more intense; like he can feel exactly how close you are.
Everything feels too intense, too overwhelming, like your body doesnât belong to you anymore.
âBeg,â he whispers, voice dangerously soft. âJust once more⊠tell me who you belong to.â
âY-youâŠâ you whimper.
Thatâs all it takes.
âMhm,â he breathes, the sound almost reverent. âAll mine.â
The pace shifts again; stronger, more certain, like heâs claiming every reaction he pulls from you. His tongue flattens against you; long, slow and deliberate. Like he's tasting you, learning your body all over again.
âMmmmmâ you let out a series of broken moans as you try to push his head away and close your legs around his hand, body arching desperately against the mattress.
But he doesnât let you, he knows what youâre doing, knows youâre trying to escape the edge, and he wonât let you.
His free hand comes up to grip your hip, holding you steady as your movements become more erratic. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure. Gasps and moans and the wet sounds of his mouth on you. The tension coils tighter and tighter in your lower belly, a sweet ache that promises release.
âYouâre close,â he mutters. âI can feel it⊠let go for me.â
âJust stay with me,â he murmurs.
And you do.
Because you canât do anything else.
His movements are purposeful, relentless, driving you higher and higher, further away from everything but him.
Your breathing turns uneven, moans more frequent, your thoughts dissolving into fragments as everything builds againâhigher, tighter, until it feels like youâre balancing on something fragile.
Unsteady.
Uncertain.
âI canâtââ you sob, your entire body tightening; your back arching, thighs trembling, toes curling, and your hands unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away.
The sight of you; writhing, begging, caught between ecstasy and agony... Damn, it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It should be illegal; the effect you have on him.
His hands tighten slightly, grounding you again.
âYes,â he says quietly. âYou can.â
His fingers slip out of you, and his hands slide up your thighs; strong, steady as he keeps you open for him, even as your body trembles like a live wire. He doesn't stop the relentless swirl of his tongue, just eases slightly, giving just enough mercy to keep you from breaking completely but not enough to escape.
"You're doing so good," he growls, praising through gritted teeth. "So fucking perfect for me..."
One hand slips beneath youâfingers curling into the soft skin of your ass, not pushing, just holding. Claiming.
"Come on my tongue," he whispers like a command. "Let me feel it."
Your fingers tighten in his hair again, your thoughts blurring, your body caught somewhere between resisting and giving in completely.
âI canâtâŠâ you whisper, but it sounds different now.
Not refusal.
Not even protest.
Something closer to breaking.
His expression softens for a split second, just enough to make your chest ache.
âI know,â he says quietly.
And thenâ
âDo it anyway.â
Thereâs no teasing now.
No games.
Just certainty.
And somehow, thatâs what pushes you over.
Your body tenses, your breath catching as everything finally breaks. Like something snapping under too much pressure. Your thighs tremble violently against his shoulders, toes curling as wave after wave crashes through you.
A broken whimper escapes; high and soft, then another⊠and another⊠until all you can do is sob into the pillow, fingers tangled desperately in his hair like heâs the only thing keeping you from floating away.
And maybe he is.
Your vision whites out, waves of pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you're unaware of anything except the sensation. Jungwon doesn't stop through it, drawing out your orgasm until you're trembling and oversensitive.
As you come down, panting and boneless, you expect him to give you a break. Instead, he merely shifts position, pressing kisses along your inner thighs.
"Just one more," he whispers against your skin. "I need one more."
A choked sound escapes your throat, half-protest, half-whimper. Your entire body thrums, a plucked string vibrating with a frequency that borders on pain. Every touch is a brand, every kiss a spark against gasoline-soaked skin.
"Jungwon," you manage, the name sounding fragile. "I can't... please."
A low chuckle vibrates against your thigh, the sound a dark promise. "Yes, you can," he murmurs, his voice a silken command. His breath ghosts over your folds, and you flinch, a full-body shudder wracking you. "You can give me one more. I know you can. Let me take care of you."
He doesn't wait for your permission. His tongue is on you again, but this time it's different. The building rhythm is gone, so is the calculated pressure. Now he's gentle, almost reverent. Soft, kitten-like licks that are somehow more devastating than the aggressive strokes from before. He's cleaning you, tasting the aftermath of your pleasure, and the intimacy of it is what has your head spinning.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, slipping silently down into your hairline. It's not from pain, not exactly. It's from the sheer, overwhelming sensation.
The silk of your pillowcase feels impossibly cool against your feverish cheek as Jungwon kisses the inside of your thigh again. You're already so sensitive that the mere puff of his breath against your slick folds sends a jolt through you, your toes curling into the mattress. Your entire body feels like a live wire, humming with a residual energy that makes your muscles quiver.
"Look at me," he commands softly, and when your heavy-lidded eyes meet his, the dark determination there makes your breath catch. "I want to watch you this time. Every expression, every shiver."
His fingers part you gently, exposing the most sensitive bundle of nerves to the dim lamplight. You feel vulnerable, exposed in a way that goes beyond the physical. He's not just looking at your body; he's looking into you, seeing the raw nerve endings that he's spent the last hour meticulously fraying.
When he leans in, you brace yourself for the onslaught, but instead, he places the softest kiss directly on your clit. The gentleness is unexpected, almost worse than the aggressive pleasure from before. Your hips lift involuntarily, seeking more, and he pulls back slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Still so responsive," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. His index finger traces your entrance, gathering the wetness there before slowly, torturously, pressing inside once more. Your inner walls immediately clench around him, already beginning the familiar climb toward ecstasy.
"Too much?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.
You can only shake your head, a strangled noise catching in your throat as he crooks his finger just so, finding that sensitive spot that makes your vision sparkle at the edges. His other hand rests on your lower belly, feeling the muscles there beginning to tense.
His tongue finally joins his finger again, starting with broad, flat strokes that cover your entire sex. The stimulation is diffuse, overwhelming, like being touched everywhere and nowhere all at once. Your hands fist in the sheets, your knuckles white, as you struggle to process the sensations flooding your system.
"Jungwon," you gasp, the name ripped from your throat as he zeroes in, the tip of his tongue now circling your clit with maddening precision. He adds a second finger, stretching you deliciously, and the added fullness combined with the targeted attention to your clit has that coil in your stomach tightening rapidly than before.
The sounds filling the room are obscene; the wet, rhythmic sounds of his mouth and fingers, your ragged breaths, the creak of the bed as your hips begin to move in earnest, chasing a release you both know is inevitable.
"I can feel you getting close," he says, pulling back just enough to speak. "The way you're squeezing my fingers... so tight, so needy."
His words are the final push. Your back arches sharply, a cry tearing from your lips as the pleasure crests. This orgasm is different, deeper, more intense. It starts in your toes and works its way up, a full-body tremor that leaves you gasping for air, your vision narrowing to a pinprick of light.
Through it all, Jungwon doesn't stop, working you through every wave until you're completely spent, collapsed against the mattress like a puppet with cut strings. You're trembling, oversensitive to the point that even the cool air of the room feels like too much against your heated skin.
He finally lifts his head, his chin glistening in the lamplight. He looks unbearably pleased with himself, a predator who has thoroughly devoured its prey. His thumb comes up to wipe away a tear you didn't realize had escaped, smearing it across your temple.
"So beautiful when you fall apart," he murmurs, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your mound.
You expectâneedâa reprieve, a moment to collect yourself, to regain control of a body that no longer feels entirely your own. But when you try to close your thighs, to create some distance, his hands stop you, firm but not forceful. He holds you open, exposed, and your renewed whimpers are ones of genuine protest.
"No," you breathe, shaking your head weakly. "I can't, Jungwon, really. I can't."
He doesn't answer with words. Instead, he lowers his head again, and this time, when his tongue touches you, it's not a beginning or an end. It's simply a continuation. He licks into you with a slow, deep thoroughness that isn't about building you toward another peak, but about experiencing the aftermath of the last one. He's tasting your sensitivity, your exhaustion, your absolute surrender.
The overstimulation is a white-hot wire. Every nerve ending screams. It's pain and pleasure so intertwined they've become a single, indistinguishable force.
You thrash against the hold he has on your thighs, a desperate attempt to escape the onslaught, but he's relentless. His tongue is a soft, wet weapon, and he wields it with expert precision knowing youâd say the safe word if it was actually to much.
Your sobs are different now, harsher, more ragged. They tear from your chest with an almost violent force. You're not just crying; you're breaking. He's pushing you past the limits of what you thought you could endure, past pleasure into a realm of pure, unadulterated sensation.
"Shhh," he finally soothes, pausing for just a moment. His voice is a low rumble against your core. "I've got you. Just let go for me. One more. Give me one more."
His tongue returns, and this time, there's no gentleness. He's devouring you. The flat of it presses hard against your clit before swirling, a dizzying, repetitive motion that makes your vision swim. It feels like he's trying to lick you open, to taste every nerve ending, to crawl inside you through the pleasure he's inflicting.
Your body is a battleground. Your mind screams at you to push him away, to close your legs, to make it stop. But your hips have a mind of their own, lifting, grinding against his face, seeking the very friction that is your undoing. You're split in two, the part of you that wants to flee and the part that wants more, more, more.
The sounds are guttural now. A constant, high-pitched whine escapes your lips, punctuated by choked sobs and the desperate gasping for air. You feel slick with more than just your arousal; sweat beads on your forehead, on your chest, making the sheets cling to you.
"Jungwon," you manage to sob out, the word a broken plea. "Please. Please, I... I'm..."
He knows. He can feel it in the way your thighs are trembling uncontrollably in his grip, in the way your inner walls flutter around nothing, desperate for something to clench down on. He doubles down.
His fingers join the assault, two of them sinking into you, curving immediately to press against that spongy spot deep inside that makes your entire body seize up once more.
The dual stimulation is catastrophic. His tongue working your clit with relentless, focused pressure while his fingers pump into you, scissoring, stretching, massaging that spot that makes lights explode behind your eyelids. The coil in your stomach isn't just tightening anymore; it's being wrung out, twisted into a painful, exquisite knot.
Your hands fly from the sheets, one tangling viciously in his hair, pulling hard, not to push him away but to anchor yourself to something in the overwhelming sea of sensation. The other slaps against the pillow, gripping it like your life depends on it. The world has narrowed to the space between your legs, to the exquisite agony of what he's doing to you.
"There it is," he growls against you, the vibrations of his words a final, devastating assault. "Come on. Cum for me. I want to feel it."
You do. You break. The orgasm that rips through you isn't a wave; it's a tsunami. It's violent. It's painful. It starts as a deep, guttural scream torn from the depths of your lungs but no sound makes its way out. Your back arches into a perfect, painful bow, your entire body rigid as the pleasure convulses through you.
He works you through it, his movements unrelenting, drawing out the convulsions until you're nothing but a twitching, sobbing mess. You're vaguely aware of your own voice, making sounds you've never made before.
When the tremors finally begin to subside, you collapse, utterly boneless. You can't move. You can't think. You can barely breathe. You're a rag doll, limp and used, floating in a hazy, post-orgasmic fog.
He finally, finally, mercifully, lifts his head. The cool air rushing over your hyper-sensitive core is a shock in itself.Â
He looks up at you from between your thighs, and the sight is obscene. His lips are swollen and glistening, shining with your arousal and the evidence of your repeated releases. A strand of slickness connects his chin to your folds as he pulls back, and he deliberately, slowly, licks it away.
His chest is heaving, his pupils blown so wide they look like pools of black ink in the dim light. He looks utterly feral, a predator who has gorged himself and is still hungry.
Your mind is a white haze of static. You try to form a word, any wordâ'stop', 'no', 'enough'âbut your throat is raw, your vocal cords shot. All that comes out is a pathetic, breathy whimper. You try to close your legs, a last-ditch effort to protect the raw, hyper-stimulated nerve centre of your being, but your muscles refuse to cooperate. Your limbs are leaden, disconnected from your will. You are completely and utterly at his mercy.
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. He sees your exhaustion. He sees your surrender. And he revels in it.
"Don't tell me you're done," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates through your hypersensitive core. "I've barely even started."
He shifts his position, settling more comfortably, spreading your legs wider still with a grip on the backs of your knees. The stretch in your thigh muscles is a dull, distant ache, overshadowed by the anticipatory dread coiling in your stomach.
"Look how pretty you are like this," he says, his thumb gently parting your folds again. "All swollen. All pink. So fucking wet for me."
He leans in and you flinch violently, a full-body spasm. He doesn't touch you with his mouth yet. Instead, he exhales, a long, slow, deliberate breath of hot, moist air directly onto your exposed clit. The sensation is electric. It's not painful, not yet, but it's too much. It's everything. It feels like he's breathing fire, and you sob, a raw, tearing sound.
"Shhh," he soothes, the vibration of his voice a torturous counterpoint to the heat of his breath. "Just breathe with me. That's it. In and out."
He does it again. Another long, slow exhale. This time, you try to focus on your own breathing, but it's ragged, catching in your chest. Every nerve ending in your body is screaming, an entire network of live wires all converging between your legs. The skin of your inner thighs feels tight, prickling, as if a million tiny needles are pressing into it.
When his tongue makes contact again, it's the lightest imaginable touch. Just the very tip, barely there, tracing the delicate, inflamed skin of your inner labia. It's not a lick. It's a mapping. A survey of the territory he has claimed. And the sensation is so acute, so concentrated, that it feels like a burn.
"Jungwon," you gasp, the name a torn whisper. "Please. It... it hurts."
"I know," he says, and the absolute calm in his voice is terrifying. He doesn't stop. His tongue continues its slow, maddening exploration, tracing every crease, every fold. "It's supposed to hurt a little. That's how you know it's real. That's how I know you're feeling everything."
He changes tactics. The flat of his tongue presses against your entrance, and he licks upward, a long, slow, firm stroke that ends with a flick against your clit.
The pressure is too much. The friction is too much. Your entire body convulses, a violent shudder that racks you from head to toe. A high, thin keen escapes your lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated overload.
"That's it," he encourages, and then he does it again. And again. He establishes a rhythm, a slow, torturous, methodical lapping that is systematically breaking down every defence you have left.
There's no build-up this time. There's no climb toward a peak. You're already at a peak; a flat, agonizing plateau of overstimulation that threatens to shatter you completely.
You're aware of everything in excruciating detail. The scrape of his evening stubble against the tender skin of your inner thighs. The wet, slick sounds of his mouth on your soaked flesh. The way your own arousal pools beneath you, cooling against your overheated skin. The burn in your lungs as you forget how to breathe. The way the muscles in your abdomen and thighs are locked in a permanent, trembling cramp.
He presses the thumb of one hand against your perineum, a solid, grounding pressure that somehow manages to intensify everything else. His other hand slides up your body, fingers wrapping around your throat. He doesn't squeeze, not hard enough to cut off your air, but the threat is there.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice thick and muffled against your core. "Keep your eyes open. Look at me while I take you apart."
It's the hardest thing you've ever done. Your eyelids are heavy, weighted down by pleasure and exhaustion. But you force them open, staring down at the dark hair between your legs.
He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and what you see there sends a fresh wave of terror and a sickening thrill through you. There is no mercy in that gaze. Only a deep, dark, unwavering purpose.
He increases the pressure, the speed of his tongue becoming more insistent, more demanding. He's not just tasting you anymore; he's devouring you. The tip of his tongue dips inside you, fucking you with shallow, quick thrusts, before returning to circle your clit with a relentless, focused pressure.
The coil in your stomach is back, but it feels wrong. It's not the sweet, exciting tension of a building orgasm. It's a painful, twisting cramp. A violent, sickening clench that promises an excruciating release.
"Go on," he growls against you, feeling your body begin to seize up. "You will. Give it to me. All of it."
He shoves three fingers into you without warning, the stretch making you cry out. He curls them, hitting that spot deep inside with brutal precision while his tongue continues its merciless assault on your clit. The combination is a physical blow. Your back arches, a silent scream tearing from your throat.
The world fractures. Your vision doesn't just white out; it shatters into a million pieces of coloured glass. The sounds you're making aren't human anymore. The orgasm that tears through you is violent, ugly. It's a convulsion, a seizure. It's pain so intense it becomes pleasure, pleasure so intense it becomes pain.
Your entire body goes rigid, locked in a painful spasm as wave after wave of unbearable sensation crashes over you. You feel yourself gushing, a hot, sudden rush of fluid that he groans against, and drinking you down is the final straw. The world goes black.
When you come back to yourself, you're not sure how much time has passed. Seconds? Minutes? The only thing you're aware of is the feeling of him still between your legs, his movements now slow, gentle, almost reverent.
Jungwon doesnât rush you through this one, doesnât pull away immediately.
He stays there, steady, letting you come back down at your own pace, his hands still resting against your hips like heâs making sure youâre still here.
With him.
With slow reverence he presses one final kiss to your core before pulling back just enough to watch you come undone. His thumbs trace soothing circles over your hips as you ride out the aftershocks, chest heaving and skin slick with heat.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes find yours again.
And thereâs that look again, not satisfied, not even close.
Just waiting.
âStill with me?â he asks softly.
You nod, barely, your voice too far gone to answer properly.
Something flickers in his expression, subtle, but there.
Not softness, not quite, something that lingers somewhere in between control and something dangerously close to care.
âGood,â he murmurs.
His fingers trace along your side, slower now. Thoughtful. Like heâs deciding something.
And then, almost casually; âBecause Iâm not done with you yet.â
Your stomach drops.
Your breath catches.
And despite everything, despite how completely ruined you feel, your body betrays you again.
A faint, involuntary shiver.
Because you already know, âone moreâ was never going to be just one.
idc if someone calls me parasocial but it makes me so fucking anxious to even think about what happened and whatâs happening esp when we donât know anything, how did it come to this? how did the members react? was it actually in talks or it happened overnight? i have no words and things arenât adding up
if this was purely heeseungâs decision then i respect it, i wish the absolute best for him and ill always support him like i have since the day one of iland, but if this is beliftâs doing and he was given an ultimatum then istg i hope that whole fucking building burns down i js want my seven to be safe and happy
i hope this helps and somehow works out, hereâs a petition you can sign: link
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Synopsis: Outside, the world is frosty and white, but inside with Enhypen, Christmas morning is full of warmth, laughter, and quiet moments that make every second unforgettable.
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Soft domestic intimacy, suggestive undertones, teasing, comfort themes
Pairing: Enhypen ot7 x gn! reader
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Domestic
AU: Established Relationship
LEE HEESEUNG
The soft morning light spills through the curtains, glinting off the ornaments on the Christmas tree. Heeseung is already awake, perched on the couch with a steaming mug of coffee in hand, the faint scent of cinnamon from your hot cocoa mingling in the air.
âMerry Christmas,â he says quietly, his eyes crinkling as he glances at you emerging from the bedroom. His hair is tousled, and the sleepy smile tugging at his lips makes your heart flutter.
âMerry Christmas,â you reply, slipping beside him and leaning into his side. He leans his head on yours with a small hum of contentment, and for a few moments, the world outside, the snow, the city, the busy streets; feels like a distant dream.
After a relaxed breakfast of fresh croissants, scrambled eggs, and hot cocoa, you decide itâs time for gifts. Heeseung reaches under the tree, handing you a neatly wrapped box with a teasing grin.
âOpen it first,â he says, the excitement in his eyes barely contained.
What he gives you is thoughtful; something you mentioned in passing months ago, something practical but deeply personal. He watches your reaction carefully, eyes flicking between your face and the gift.
âYou remembered,â you say quietly.
âOf course I did,â he answers, like it was never a question.
Touched, you hand him your gift, a customized keyboard. âFor all your late-night gaming sessions,â you say, smiling. âI figured this would make things more fun⊠and maybe less frustrating when youâre in those intense matches.â
His jaw drops as he carefully lifts it from the wrapping, running his fingers along the keys. âYou⊠thought of everything,â he murmurs, eyes wide. âThis is⊠perfect.â
âYouâre welcome,â you tease, leaning against the couch. âNow you can finally dominate without complaining about your old setup.â
The morning drifts into a cozy blur of activity. Later, the two of you set up his new gaming setup together, adjusting the RGB lighting, plugging in the keyboard, and testing out the keys. He insists on showing you a few of his favorite games. You sit on his lap as he sits in his gaming chair, your legs draped on his as you watch him navigate through intricate levels with concentrated skill.
Afterward, you bake cookies together, flour flying everywhere as you taste-test each batch. He sneaks a kiss every time you hand him a cookie, the warmth between you growing with every shared glance and laugh.
By the afternoon, wrapped in soft blankets with the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree surrounding you, you challenge him to a lighthearted gaming match of Mario Kart. The controller clicks under his fingers as he smirks, attempting to trash-talk you while his cheeks betray him with a subtle pink flush.
âNot fair!â he laughs after you win a round, throwing a small cushion at you.
âYouâre the one who underestimated me,â you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.
As evening falls, you prepare a small, cozy meal; roasted vegetables, chicken, and warm apple pie. You feed each other bites, laughing over underseasoned chicken and playful teasing.
Finally, curled up together by the tree, Heeseung holds your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. âThis⊠all of this⊠itâs perfect,â he whispers. âAnd⊠the gift. I love it, really.â
You smile, resting your head on his shoulder. âI just wanted you to have fun. And⊠maybe remember me when youâre gaming late at night.â
He laughs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. âBelieve me, I will. Every time.â
The night stretches on in quiet contentment, the soft glow of Christmas lights surrounding you both as you linger in the warmth of shared joy, laughter, and playful intimacy.
PARK JONGSEONG
Jay wakes up to the sound of movement before he wakes up to the light.
Itâs subtle; fabric shifting, a quiet sigh, the mattress dipping ever so slightly. His arm tightens around your waist instinctively, pulling you back before you can fully slip away.
âWhereâre you going?â he murmurs, voice low and still heavy with sleep.
You laugh softly, settling back against his chest. âNowhere. Just woke up.â
âMmh.â He presses his face into your hair, breathing you in. âGood. Stay.â
The room is warm despite the winter outside. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, painting everything gold. Jayâs eyes open slowly, blinking as if heâs piecing the world together one detail at a time; your face, the quiet, the date.
ââŠItâs Christmas,â he says finally.
âMerry Christmas,â you reply.
He smiles, small and genuine, the kind he doesnât show often enough. He leans in and kisses you; not rushed, not dramatic; just warm and sure, like it belongs there.
Unlike you, Jay doesnât stay in bed long. The moment you both finally get up, heâs already rolling his sleeves up, moving around the apartment with quiet purpose.
âIâll make breakfast,â he says, firm, like itâs non-negotiable.
âYou made dinner yesterday.â
âAnd?â He arches an eyebrow. âItâs Christmas.â
You watch from the doorway as he cooks; focused, calm, completely in his element. The kitchen smells like butter and coffee, something sweet baking in the oven. He hums under his breath, occasionally glancing over at you just to make sure youâre still there.
âStop staring,â he says without looking. âYouâre making it weird.â
âIâm appreciating.â
He scoffs, but you catch the faint smile tugging at his lips.
Breakfast is hearty and warm. You sit across from him, legs brushing under the table, sunlight spilling across the wood. Jay eats slower than usual today, like heâs in no rush to get anywhere. He reaches out halfway through and laces his fingers with yours, squeezing gently.
Presents happen after, again on his terms. He insists on cleaning up first, muttering about not wanting a mess. When he finally hands you your gift, his expression is unreadable, jaw tight like heâs nervous.
When you open it, he watches you carefully.
Inside was an oversized cashmere sweater, soft and luxurious. You held it against your skin, feeling warmth spread through you even before wearing it. Tucked inside the fold was a small note, written in his careful, rounded handwriting: âFor the moments I want to hold you close even when I canât.â
âYou like it?â he asks, too quickly.
You donât even answer, you just stand and hug him. Hard.
Your chest tightened. âJay⊠itâs beautiful,â you said, voice catching.
He exhales, arms wrapping around you just as tightly. âGood,â he murmurs. âI thought about it a lot.â
His own gift is something practical but meaningful, something you know heâll use every day.
Inside was a custom leather guitar strap, embossed with a subtle design of a city skyline and a small heart at the end. His fingers traced the stitching, eyes lighting up.
âYou⊠this is incredible,â he murmured. âItâs so⊠thoughtful.â
âI wanted something thatâs yours, that youâll use every day,â you said softly. âSo every time you play, you remember Iâm here, rooting for you.â
He tries to play it off, but when he realizes what it means, he goes quiet, eyes soft.
Jayâs hand lingered on the strap, a quiet laugh escaping him. âYou really know how to make someone melt, huh?âŠThank you,â he says, voice steady but sincere.
Back home, you decorate cookies. Badly. Jay pretends to be annoyed by the mess but ends up laughing when you smear icing on his cheek.
âOh, youâre dead,â he warns, chasing you around the kitchen.
You watch movies in the afternoon, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm solid and grounding around you. At some point, he starts absentmindedly rubbing your back, slow and soothing, until you nearly fall asleep.
Dinner is quieter. Candles lit. Music low. Jay sits across from you, expression thoughtful, like heâs memorizing the moment.
Later, when the lights are dim and the city outside is quiet, he pulls you into his lap, forehead resting against yours.
âYou know,â he says softly, âI donât really care about holidays.â
You raise an eyebrow.
âBut this?â He gestures vaguely around youâhome, warmth, the two of you. âThis matters.â
You kiss him, slow and sure.
And wrapped in his arms; Christmas with him isnât loud or flashy; itâs steady. Safe. Intentional. Itâs love that shows up, every single day.
SIM JAEYUN
Jake wakes up smiling before he even opens his eyes.
He knows itâs Christmas because youâre still there curled into his side, warm and heavy with sleep, your breathing slow and even. His arm is draped across your back, hand resting between your shoulder blades like itâs always belonged there. He doesnât move right away. He never does when mornings feel this soft.
Instead, he presses a quiet kiss into your hair and lets himself stay.
Eventually, you stir, shifting closer without fully waking. Jake laughs quietly under his breath, the sound warm and fond.
âMerry Christmas,â he whispers, even though you canât hear him yet.
When you finally wake up, itâs unhurried. No alarms. No rushing. Just the pale morning light and Jakeâs voice when he says your name, gentle and familiar.
You make coffee together, moving around the kitchen in practiced ease him starting on the coffee, you reaching for mugs. Thereâs music playing softly in the background, something christmasy. Jake hums along, occasionally bumping into you just to be close.
Breakfast is simple. Toast, eggs, fruit. He insists on cutting your fruit for you like he always does, and you tease him for it.
âI like doing things for you,â he says easily, like itâs obvious.
Presents happen on the couch, legs tangled together. Thereâs no dramatic buildup just quiet anticipation.
You give him your gift first. Itâs something thoughtful: a leather cardholder engraved with his initials, something heâll carry every day without thinking about it. When he realizes what it is, he turns it over in his hands slowly, eyes soft.
ââŠYouâre really good at this,â he says quietly.
âAt what?â
âKnowing me.â
He leans in and kisses you, slow and lingering, hand resting warm against your jaw.
When itâs his turn, he hands you a neatly wrapped box, watching you with that slightly nervous smile he gets when he really cares about your reaction. Inside is a necklace. Simple, understated, something you can wear every day. Not flashy. Just⊠you.
âI saw it and thought of you,â he says, shrugging like itâs nothing. âDidnât want something that felt like it would just sit in a drawer.â
You donât say anything right away. You just put it on and smile at him.
Thatâs enough.
The rest of the day flows gently. You go out for a long walk, bundled up against the cold, fingers intertwined. Jake talks about his childhood Christmases. How loud they were, how warm, and listens just as intently when you share yours.
Back home, you bake together. Flour ends up everywhere. Jake laughs when you smudge it on his nose, then retaliates by pulling you close and kissing you until you forget what you were doing.
In the evening, you curl up on the couch with a movie playing in the background. Jakeâs arms wrap around you easily, thumb tracing lazy circles on your arm. At some point, he murmurs, âThis is my favorite part.â
âOf Christmas?â
âOf everything.â
Dinner is cozy and unpretentious. Wine glasses clink softly. Conversation drifts from serious to silly and back again. Jake reaches across the table to hold your hand more than once, like he just wants to feel you there.
Later, when the day winds down and the lights are low, you sit together in comfortable silence. Jake rests his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded.
âThank you,â he says softly.
âFor what?â
âFor choosing me. For making today feel like home.â
And in that quiet moment, wrapped in warmth and familiarity, Christmas with him isnât about the date, itâs about how safe it feels to be exactly where you are.
PARK SUNGHOON
You wake up before the light does.
Not because of an alarm, or noise, or excitement that jolts you out of sleep, but because your body knows him. The steady warmth pressed against your back, the familiar weight of an arm loosely draped around your waist, the quiet rhythm of his breathing just behind your ear. The room is still dark, the kind of soft, blue-dark that only exists early on winter mornings, when the world hasnât quite decided to wake up yet.
Sunghoon shifts slightly in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, his nose brushing against the nape of your neck. His grip tightens unconsciously, like heâs afraid youâll disappear if he doesnât hold on. You smile to yourself, careful not to move too much. Christmas can wait. This moment canât.
Eventually, he stirs more fully. You feel it before you see it, the change in his breathing, the faint tension in his arm as awareness creeps in. He hums softly, low and sleepy, then presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder.
ââŠMorning,â he murmurs, voice rough, warm, still half-dreaming.
âMerry Christmas,â you whisper back.
That does it. His eyes open, blinking slowly as if heâs recalibrating to reality. When he registers the date, his lips curve into a soft smile, the kind he only wears at home, the one that isnât for fans or cameras or anyone else.
âMerry Christmas,â he repeats, quieter this time.
You donât get up right away. Neither of you do. Sunghoon pulls you closer, tucking his chin over your shoulder, fingers tracing idle patterns against your stomach. Outside, the world is silent. No schedules. No practice. No pressure. Just the two of you and a whole day stretched out ahead.
Eventually, hunger wins.
You end up in the kitchen together, both of you still in pajamas, his oversized hoodie swallowing you whole, socks mismatched because neither of you bothered to check. Sunghoon insists on making breakfast, despite the fact that itâs Christmas and you argue that you should do it together.
âWe are doing it together,â he says, nudging you aside with his hip. âYouâre moral support.â
âWow. Promoted from girlfriend to cheerleader.â
He laughs, that full, unguarded laugh, and steals a kiss before cracking eggs into a bowl. Music plays softly from his phone; something old and warm, something that feels like December. You sit on the counter, swinging your legs, occasionally sneaking bits of food or poking his side just to hear him complain.
Breakfast turns into a mess of laughter and half-burnt toast and him pretending not to care when you tease him about it. You eat curled up on the couch afterward, sharing a blanket, feet tangled together as snow drifts past the window.
Presents come next. Sunghoon insists on watching your reactions more than opening his own.
Itâs a small velvet pouch. Inside was a delicate bracelet, subtle and beautiful, engraved with a tiny symbol that reminded him of you. You slipped it onto your wrist, feeling the intimacy of the gesture settle warmly in your chest.
He sits cross-legged on the floor, eyes fixed on your face, memorizing every smile, every laugh, every soft âyou didnât have to.â
When itâs his turn, heâs oddly shy. He opens your gift carefully, like it might break.
Inside wasnât just a journal; it was a handmade, leather-bound journal filled with letters from you, little notes scattered between the pages: memories, inside jokes, encouragements, and future dreams. Every page was meant to remind him of your bond.
When he sees what you got him, he goes quiet, swallowing hard before pulling you into a tight hug.
âYou⊠you made this?â he breathed, voice cracking slightly.
âI wrote them,â you admitted with a small smile. âFor you. So whenever youâre stressed, tired, or just need a reminder⊠youâll know Iâm always here, and Iâm proud of you.â
âYou always know me too well,â he murmurs into your hair.
Later, after lunch, he suggests going out.
The ice rink is calm, not crowded, winter light reflecting off the surface. Sunghoon skates effortlessly, like breathing comes naturally to him, but he stays close. One hand lightly holding yours, guiding rather than showing off. You circle the rink together, laughing softly when you wobble, him murmuring reassurance near your ear.
âYouâre doing fine,â he says. âIâve got you.â
It doesnât last long, just enough to feel the cold air, just enough to share the moment, before youâre back home again, cheeks flushed, hands cold.
The afternoon fades into something soft and lazy. You watch movies, half-paying attention. You nap together on the couch, his head in your lap, your fingers brushing through his hair while he sleeps. At some point, he wakes up just enough to kiss your palm before drifting off again.
Dinner is simple. Homemade. Comfortable. You cook together this time, stealing tastes, bumping into each other in the small kitchen, dancing slowly while something simmers on the stove.
By night, the lights are low, the tree glowing quietly in the corner. Sunghoon pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours.
âThis,â he says softly, âis my favorite Christmas.â
You know he means it, not because of the day, or the gifts, or the season, but because itâs you. Because itâs home.
KIM SUNOO
Sunoo is already awake, lying on his side facing you, his head propped up by one hand as he watches you sleep. The Christmas lights you forgot to turn off the night before glow softly behind him, casting little flecks of gold across his face. When you finally stir, he smiles instantly, bright, genuine, the kind of smile that makes mornings feel kinder.
âMerry Christmas,â he whispers, like he doesnât want to scare the moment away.
You smile back sleepily. âYouâve been awake for how long?â
âLong enough to consider waking you up,â he admits, laughing softly. âBut you looked too peaceful.â
He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. Slow, unhurried, like thereâs nowhere else either of you need to be today. Outside, the world is quiet. No schedules. No rush. Just the two of you.
Eventually, you drag yourselves out of bed and into the kitchen, both of you wrapped in the same blanket. Sunoo insists on making breakfast together. Not anything fancy, just warm pancakes, fresh fruit, and coffee. He hums softly while he cooks, occasionally poking your waist on purpose just to hear you laugh.
âChristmas calories donât count,â he says seriously as he hands you a plate. âThatâs a rule.â
After breakfast, you sit together on the floor in front of the tree, backs against the couch, sipping your drinks while the room smells faintly of pine and vanilla. Sunoo hands you your gift first, his eyes shining with anticipation.
When you open it, you find a delicate ring, simple, elegant, something you could wear every day. He watches your reaction carefully, fingers nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater.
âI thoughtâŠâ he starts, then pauses. âI wanted to get you something that feels like us. Comfortable. Something that stays.â
You donât even say anything at first. You just lean forward and hug him tightly, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. He laughs softly, arms wrapping around you immediately.
âIâll take that as a good sign,â he murmurs.
When itâs his turn, you hand him a carefully wrapped box. Inside is a high-quality skincare set you know heâs been eyeing for months, nothing flashy, just thoughtful. Along with it is a soft, expensive blanket in a neutral tone, something cozy enough to wrap around himself on quiet nights.
Sunoo goes still.
âYou remembered,â he says quietly, running his fingers over the fabric. âI mentioned this once.â
âI know,â you reply. âYou deserve to be comfortable.â
For a moment, he doesnât joke. He just pulls you into his chest, holding you there a little longer than necessary.
The rest of the day unfolds slowly. You put on a Christmas playlist. Nothing overly loud, just soft songs filling the space while built a Christmas Lego together.
Later, you build a small excuse for a blanket fort in the living room, stringing fairy lights over it and crawling inside with mugs of hot chocolate. You watch a movie, but neither of you pays much attention. Your head is resting on his shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm.
âThis is my favorite kind of Christmas,â he says quietly. âNo pressure. Just⊠us.â
In the evening, you cook dinner together, stealing bites from each otherâs plates and dancing slowly in the kitchen while the food simmers. Sunoo laughs easily today, lighter, freer, like heâs exactly where heâs meant to be.
By nightfall, youâre curled up on the couch again, wrapped in the blanket you gave him. He tucks you closer, resting his chin on your head.
âThank you,â he whispers. âFor today. For always making things feel warm.â
You smile, eyes drifting shut as the lights glow softly around you.
âMerry Christmas, Sunoo.â
âMerry Christmas,â he replies, kissing your hair gently.
And for the first time all day, neither of you feels the need to do anything else.
YANG JUNGWON
You wake up to the sound of quiet movement rather than an alarm.
At first, you think youâre dreaming. Thereâs a soft clink of ceramic, the low hum of the heater, footsteps moving carefully like someone is trying not to wake you. When you finally open your eyes, the room is washed in pale winter light, the curtains barely parted.
Jungwon isnât in bed.
You sit up, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders just as he reappears in the doorway, holding two mugs and wearing an hoodie youâve never seen in his closet before. He freezes when he sees you awake.
ââŠYouâre up,â he says, voice soft, almost surprised.
You smile. âYou were sneaking around.â
He exhales a small laugh and walks over, handing you a mug. âI was trying to be quiet. Merry Christmas.â
The words sound gentler coming from him. Like he means them deeply rather than loudly. You take the mug, warmth seeping into your palms, and he sits beside you on the bed, close but not rushed. Your knees touch. His shoulder brushes yours.
âWhat time did you wake up?â you ask.
Jungwon shrugs. âNot that early. I just⊠wanted the morning to feel calm.â
You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, and he instinctively shifts to make you more comfortable, his arm coming around your back. For a few minutes, neither of you speaks. You just sip your drinks and watch the slow drift of snow outside the window.
Eventually, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. âLetâs take our time today.â
You do.
After getting dressed, soft knits, neutral colors, everything comfortable; you move to the kitchen together. Jungwon cooks breakfast with quiet focus, sleeves rolled up, hair still slightly messy from sleep. You sit at the counter, watching him more than helping, and he pretends not to notice the way your eyes follow him.
âYouâre staring,â he says, not looking up.
âYouâre handsome,â you reply easily.
He pauses for just a second, ears turning faintly pink. âEat your food.â
Breakfast is warm and simple. French toast, maple syrup, fruit. He insists on plating it nicely anyway, because he likes things done properly; even today. You eat slowly, talking about nothing important. Plans that donât matter. Thoughts that donât need conclusions.
Afterward, you sit together in the living room, the Christmas tree glowing softly. Jungwon hands you your gift first, carefully wrapped, neat edges and a simple ribbon. He watches you closely as you open it.
Inside is something thoughtful and practical. Something you mentioned needing months ago but forgot about. Along with it is a small handwritten note.
Thank you for always choosing me. Iâll keep choosing you too.
You look up at him, throat tight.
He clears his throat. âI didnât know how to say it out loud.â
You lean over and kiss him gently, slow and warm, and his hand cups your cheek like itâs instinct.
When itâs his turn, you give him a box a little heavier than expected. Inside is a high-quality leather planner and a pen engraved with his initials. Something subtle, something that fits him. Tucked inside is a small photo of the two of you.
Jungwon stares at it for a long moment.
ââŠYou know me too well,â he murmurs.
He doesnât laugh this time. He just pulls you into his chest, holding you firmly, protectively, like the world outside doesnât exist today.
The afternoon passes quietly. You take a walk together, bundled up against the cold, hands tucked into the same pocket of his coat, talking about anything and everything. Snow crunches under your boots, and Jungwon keeps glancing at you like heâs memorizing the moment.
Later, you cook dinner together; him chopping, you seasoning, the two of you moving around each other like itâs second nature. Soft music plays in the background. At one point, he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.
âThank you for being my safe place,â he says quietly.
You turn around and smile softly before hugging him. âAlways.â
By the time night falls, youâre curled up on the couch beneath a blanket, lights dimmed, the tree glowing softly. Jungwonâs arm is around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles against your side.
âThis,â he says softly, âis exactly how I wanted today to be.â
You smile, eyes drifting shut.
âMerry Christmas, Jungwon.â
He kisses your forehead gently. âMerry Christmas.â
And in the stillness, you realize thereâs nowhere else youâd rather wake up. Today or any day after.
NISHIMURA RIKI
You wake up to warmth before sound.
Ni-ki is still asleep beside you, one arm draped loosely over your waist, his breathing slow and even. The room is dim, curtains barely letting in the pale winter light. Outside, the world feels hushed, like itâs waiting.
For once, he isnât moving first.
You let yourself stay there a moment longer, listening to him breathe, memorizing the weight of his arm, the way his fingers twitch occasionally like heâs dreaming. He looks softer like this. Lashes resting against his cheeks, hair falling into his eyes without the usual effort to tame it.
Eventually, he stirs.
âWhy are you staring,â he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, eyes still closed.
You smile. âItâs Christmas.â
âThat doesnât explain the staring.â
âYou look peaceful,â you say. âRare sight.â
He hums, pulling you closer instead of arguing. âYouâre lucky I love you.â
Thatâs the thing about Ni-ki, he doesnât shout his affection. He lets it settle into moments like this.
You donât rush out of bed. Thereâs no urgency. Just quiet jokes, lazy kisses, his thumb tracing absentminded shapes against your side while you talk about nothing important. Eventually, he sighs and sits up, rubbing his face.
âOkay,â he says. âCoffee. Then presents. I need caffeine before emotional vulnerability.â
You laugh softly as you follow him into the kitchen.
He moves comfortably in the space. Grabbing mugs, grinding coffee, stealing glances at you like heâs checking whether youâre watching. When he catches you, he raises an eyebrow.
âWhat?â
âNothing,â you say. âYou just look⊠content.â
He scoffs. âDonât make it weird.â
But he doesnât deny it.
The morning unfolds slowly. Music hums quietly from the speaker, something soft and familiar. You cook together, not anything fancy, just comfort food. Ni-ki stands close behind you at the stove, correcting your technique in mock seriousness.
âThatâs too much butter.â
âYou literally just added more.â
âDifferent kind of butter,â he argues, deadpan.
After breakfast, you finally move to the living room. The tree lights glow softly, gifts tucked beneath it like theyâve been waiting all night.
Ni-ki sits beside you on the floor, shoulder pressed to yours. âYou first,â he says again, calmer this time.
His gift to you is thoughtful, something practical but personal, something youâll actually use. Thereâs no big speech, just a quiet, âI remembered you wanted this.â
When itâs his turn, you hand him a box that immediately makes him pause.
He opens it slowly.
Inside is something meant for him. not flashy, not for show. High-quality gaming gear heâs been debating buying for months, paired with a note written in your handwriting.
For the nights you unwind, and the worlds you escape into.
Ni-ki doesnât say anything at first. He just exhales, long and quiet, jaw tightening slightly.
ââŠYou pay too much attention,â he mutters.
âYou deserve it.â
He looks up at you then, really looks. Eyes warm, something unspoken settling between you. âCome here,â he says softly.
You donât hesitate.
The rest of the day is unstructured in the best way. You go out for a walk in the cold, hands brushing, shoulders bumping occasionally, a snowball flying here and there. Ni-ki teases you about your gloves, you tease him about how he keeps adjusting his scarf. You stop for coffee again because he insists it âhits differentâ on Christmas.
Back home, you change into something comfortable and sink into the couch together. A movie plays, but neither of you pays much attention. Ni-ki rests his head against your chest, one hand lazily wrapped around your waist.
âThis,â he says quietly, âis better than I expected.â
âChristmas?â
âYeah.â A pause. âUs.â
Your heart tightens, but you donât make it heavy. You just continue to play with his hair.
Dinner is simple. Music low. The kitchen warm. At one point, he comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around your waist.
âThank you,â he says. âFor today.â
âFor what?â
âFor making it feel like home.â
Later, when the lights are off and youâre back in bed, Ni-ki turns toward you, voice barely above a whisper.
âLetâs do this again next year.â
You smile into the dark. âI was planning on it.â
He pulls you closer, forehead resting against yours, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything. You donât need to.
Hey everyone, I just wanted to give you all a little update. Lately, thereâs been a lot going on in my life, and I honestly havenât had enough time to sit down and properly finish writing When the Silence Breaks. Because of that, Iâm going to need to postpone the release date. Iâm really sorry about this. I know a lot of you were excited, and I hate to keep you waiting.
That being said, I do have something new coming out tomorrow thatâs been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and Iâm really excited to finally share it with you all. Thank you so much for being patient with me and for sticking around. It really means the world. đ€
No rush but when will you publish when the silence breaks
girl thanks for being patience rlly.
I was planning to publish probably in December but bc I have exams and I still need to finish the ending Iâm not too sure anymore. Still tryna publish it b4 the year ends tho.
Synopsis: When Ni-kiâs growing empire, consumes the man who used to be, your left with a husband whoâs become a stranger. But one night, when words finally spill and walls come down, you both remember what it means to love, and to be loved in return.
They say success changes people â you just never thought it would change him.
When Niki took over the company, you were proud. Heâd always been ambitious, brilliant even, and you believed that no matter how high he climbed, heâd still come home to you at the end of the day.
But somewhere between late-night meetings and endless deadlines, you lost the man who used to hold your hand through crowded streets just because he liked how perfectly your fingers fit.
Now, you live with a stranger who wears your husbandâs face.
The house feels different these days â quieter, colder, like itâs holding its breath. Sometimes you think it mirrors the two of you, the way the air sits heavy with things neither of you says anymore.
Tonight is no different. He sits in the chair beside the bed, his attention fixed on the glow of his laptop screen, surrounded by a fortress of documents and coffee cups. His tie hangs loose, his hair slightly tousled, yet the softness you used to love in him feels long gone.
You watch him from the edge of the bed, tracing the familiar lines of his face, searching for the boy who used to pull you into his arms just to complain about how much he missed you, even if youâd only been apart for a few hours. That boy who used to be all warmth and laughter, who used to make everything feel light and easy. The boy you fell in love with. Your Riki.
Now, his eyes are sharp, his jaw set, his voice distant whenever he speaks. Itâs like his responsibilities have swallowed him whole. And as the silence stretches between you, you canât help but wonder when exactly you stopped being his peace â and became just another part of the noise.
You clear your throat softly. âHey⊠can we talk?â
He pauses, fingers stilling over the keyboard. The screenâs glow flickers across his face, highlighting the faint exhaustion under his eyes. For a second, he doesnât move, the air between you thinning like glass pulled too tight. You almost think he wonât answer, that heâll just go back to pretending you arenât there. But then he exhales; slow, uneven, and finally lifts his gaze to meet yours.
His eyes are dark, stormy, conflicted. And in that silence, everything youâve both been avoiding sits heavy between you, all the things said, unsaid, and quietly breaking.
Then, just like that, the distance between you cracks. One hesitant brush of his hand, a shiver, and suddenly itâs not about deadlines, responsibilities, or control anymore. Itâs about him, you, and the fire that never truly went out.
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Synopsis: When Ni-kiâs growing empire, consumes the man who used to be, your left with a husband whoâs become a stranger. But one night, when words finally spill and walls come down, you both remember what it means to love, and to be loved in return.
They say success changes people â you just never thought it would change him.
When Niki took over the company, you were proud. Heâd always been ambitious, brilliant even, and you believed that no matter how high he climbed, heâd still come home to you at the end of the day.
But somewhere between late-night meetings and endless deadlines, you lost the man who used to hold your hand through crowded streets just because he liked how perfectly your fingers fit.
Now, you live with a stranger who wears your husbandâs face.
The house feels different these days â quieter, colder, like itâs holding its breath. Sometimes you think it mirrors the two of you, the way the air sits heavy with things neither of you says anymore.
Tonight is no different. He sits in the chair beside the bed, his attention fixed on the glow of his laptop screen, surrounded by a fortress of documents and coffee cups. His tie hangs loose, his hair slightly tousled, yet the softness you used to love in him feels long gone.
You watch him from the edge of the bed, tracing the familiar lines of his face, searching for the boy who used to pull you into his arms just to complain about how much he missed you, even if youâd only been apart for a few hours. That boy who used to be all warmth and laughter, who used to make everything feel light and easy. The boy you fell in love with. Your Riki.
Now, his eyes are sharp, his jaw set, his voice distant whenever he speaks. Itâs like his responsibilities have swallowed him whole. And as the silence stretches between you, you canât help but wonder when exactly you stopped being his peace and became just another part of the noise.
You clear your throat softly. âHey⊠can we talk?â
He pauses, fingers stilling over the keyboard. The screenâs glow flickers across his face, highlighting the faint exhaustion under his eyes. For a second, he doesnât move, the air between you thinning like glass pulled too tight. You almost think he wonât answer, that heâll just go back to pretending you arenât there. But then he exhales; slow, uneven, and finally lifts his gaze to meet yours.
His eyes are dark, stormy, conflicted. And in that silence, everything youâve both been avoiding sits heavy between you, all the things said, unsaid, and quietly breaking.
Then, just like that, the distance between you cracks. One hesitant brush of his hand, a shiver, and suddenly itâs not about deadlines, responsibilities, or control anymore. Itâs about him, you, and the fire that never truly went out.
Synopsis: A playful smack here, a dramatic reaction thereâturns out, teasing them is way more entertaining than you expected.
W/C: 2.2k Â
Warnings: Suggestive themes, playful teasing, excessive flirting, mild swearing, chaotic energy, dramatic reactions, mentions of violence (playful), second-hand embarrassmentÂ
Pairing: Enhypen ot7 x gn! readerÂ
Genre: Fluff, RomanceÂ
AU: Established RelationshipÂ
LEE HEESEUNG
You were lounging in the dorms when Heeseung stood up to grab something from the kitchen. As he passed by, your hand instinctively shot out, landing a playful smack on his ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Heeseung froze mid-step, turning to glare at you with wide eyes.Â
âWhat the hell was that?â he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.Â
You shrugged nonchalantly, biting back a grin. âWhat? It was right there. I couldnât resist.âÂ
Heeseung scoffed, shaking his head. âYouâre unbelievable. You canât just go around slapping peopleâs asses like that.âÂ
âOh, but you do it to the members all the time,â you retorted, leaning back against the couch. âDouble standards much?âÂ
âThatâs different!â he exclaimed, pointing at you accusingly. âTheyâre my members. Youâreââ He stopped himself, his face reddening slightly. âYouâre you.âÂ
âAnd?â you teased, tilting your head. âWhatâs your point, Hee?âÂ
Heeseung groaned, running a hand through his hair. âYouâre such a pain in the ass, you know that?âÂ
âSpeaking of asses...â you said with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows.Â
âDonât even start,â he warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. âYouâre so lucky Iove you.âÂ
âAw, you love me?â you cooed, batting your eyelashes at him. âSay it again, Hee.âÂ
âNot a chance,â he shot back, grabbing a pillow from the couch and throwing it at you. âNow stop harassing me, you menace.âÂ
âAdmit it, you secretly liked it,â you called after him as he walked away, flipping you off over his shoulder.Â
PARK JONSEONG
Jay was busy cooking in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he stirred something on the stove. The delicious smell filled the room, but your focus was elsewhereâspecifically, on the way his sweatpants fit a little too well. Before you could think twice, you walked up behind him and gave his ass a sharp slap.Â
Jay jumped, almost dropping the spoon in his hand. âWhat the fuck?â he yelped, spinning around to face you. His eyes were wide, and his ears were already turning red.Â
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. âSorry, it was just... right there. Couldnât help myself.âÂ
He narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the spoon in your direction. âYou have a death wish, donât you?âÂ
âRelax, Chef Ramsay,â you teased, leaning against the counter. âConsider it a compliment.âÂ
âA compliment?â he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. âOh, sure. Nothing screams âcomplimentâ like getting smacked in the ass while Iâm cooking.âÂ
âExactly,â you said with a grin. âItâs like... encouragement. Youâre doing a great job, babe.âÂ
Jay groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. âYouâre insufferable.âÂ
âAnd you love it,â you shot back, grabbing a piece of chopped carrot from the cutting board.Â
âLove is a strong word,â he muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.Â
âAdmit it,â you said, stepping closer and poking his chest. âYou secretly liked it.âÂ
Jay leaned down, his face inches from yours. âIf you do it again, Iâm kicking you out of the kitchen,â he said, his voice low and threateningâthough the blush on his cheeks ruined the effect.Â
âNoted,â you replied sweetly, patting his chest. âBut no promises.âÂ
âUnbelievable,â he muttered, turning back to the stove. You could still see the tips of his ears burning red as he focused on cooking, muttering something about how you were a menace under his breath.Â
SIM JAEYUN
Jake was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone while his legs dangled off the armrest. You walked by, taking in the perfect opportunity. Without hesitation, you swung your hand and smacked his ass. Hard.Â
âHoly shit!â Jake yelped, nearly dropping his phone as he bolted upright. âWhat the hell was that for?âÂ
You doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach. âYour reaction! Oh my God, Jake, you looked like you saw a ghost!âÂ
He glared at you, his cheeks turning pink. âYouâre so fucking annoying. Who even does that?âÂ
âMe, apparently,â you said, grinning. âNice reflexes, by the way.âÂ
Jake rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch. âYouâre lucky I didnât accidentally kick you.âÂ
âOh, please. Youâd never,â you teased, plopping down beside him. âYouâre too soft for that.âÂ
âSoft?â he repeated, looking offended. âIâll show you softââ He lunged forward, grabbing a pillow and whacking you with it.Â
âHey!â you protested, laughing as you tried to fend him off. âViolence isnât the answer, Jake!âÂ
âIt is when youâre the problem,â he shot back, though he was laughing now too.Â
You managed to grab the pillow from him, holding it over your head in victory. âAdmit it, though. You secretly liked it.âÂ
Jake scoffed, crossing his arms. âIn what world would I like being slapped in the ass?âÂ
âThis one,â you said confidently, smirking at him. âDonât lie, Jake. I saw the way you blushed.âÂ
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. âYouâre so goddamn annoying. Why do I even put up with you?âÂ
âBecause you love me,â you replied with a cheeky grin, poking his side. âAdmit it.âÂ
âYeah, yeah,â he muttered, but the small smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.Â
PARK SUNGHOON
Sunghoon was standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair for the millionth time. He was so focused on his reflection that he didnât notice you sneaking up behind him. Without warning, you slapped his ass, the loud smack echoing in the room.Â
âWhat the fuck?â Sunghoon exclaimed, spinning around to glare at you. His cheeks flushed pink as he stared at you in disbelief. âDid you justââÂ
âI sure did,â you said, grinning up at him. âNice reaction time, by the way.âÂ
Sunghoon scowled, crossing his arms. âWhat the hell is wrong with you?âÂ
âNothing,â you replied innocently. âI just thought you needed a little... appreciation.âÂ
âAppreciation for what?â he demanded, narrowing his eyes.Â
âFor being so pretty,â you said with a smirk. âYouâre welcome.âÂ
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. âYouâre unbelievable.âÂ
âAnd youâre blushing,â you shot back, pointing at his red cheeks.Â
âI am not,â he said quickly, turning back to the mirror. âYouâre just imagining things.âÂ
âSure, Hoon,â you teased, stepping closer to poke his side. âWhatever helps you sleep at night.âÂ
He swatted your hand away, muttering something under his breath. âYouâre so annoying.âÂ
âBut you love me,â you said, grinning.Â
âDebatable,â he replied, though the small smile tugging at his lips said otherwise.Â
KIM SUNOO
Sunoo was lying on his bed, scrolling through his phone. You walked by, smirking as you saw the perfect opportunity. Without hesitation, you slapped his ass, earning a loud yelp from him.Â
âYah! What the hell?â Sunoo exclaimed, sitting up to glare at you. His cheeks were already turning red.Â
âSorry,â you said, not sounding sorry at all. âCouldnât resist.âÂ
He narrowed his eyes at you, pointing accusingly. âYouâre so dead.âÂ
âOh, come on,â you teased, holding your hands up in mock surrender. âItâs not that big of a deal.âÂ
âNot that big of a deal?â he repeated, his voice rising an octave. âYou just smacked my ass!âÂ
âAnd it was a good one,â you said with a grin. âProps to you, Sunoo.âÂ
He groaned, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at you. âYouâre the worst.âÂ
âAnd yet, here we are,â you said, dodging the pillow. âAdmit it, though. You secretly liked it.âÂ
âIn your dreams,â he shot back, though the blush on his cheeks gave him away.Â
YANG JUNGWON
Jungwon was tidying up the living room, humming to himself as he carefully folded a blanket. You watched him for a moment, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. The moment he turned slightly, you took your chanceâyour hand shot out, landing a loud smack on his ass.Â
Jungwon yelped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he whipped around to glare at you. "What the hell was that?!"Â
You shrugged, barely holding back laughter. "A well-executed ass slap, obviously."Â
His jaw dropped as he stared at you in disbelief. "Youâyou can't just do that! What is wrong with you?"Â
"Plenty of things," you admitted with a smirk. "But thatâs not the point here."Â
Jungwon groaned, covering his face with both hands for a second before pointing an accusing finger at you. "Youâre the walking embodiment of âthis is why we canât have nice thingsâ. Do you even think before you act?"Â
"Nope," you answered proudly. "Itâs called living in the moment, Wonie. You should try it."Â
"Living in the moment doesn't mean violating my personal space!" he exclaimed, his ears burning bright red. "I should report you for this."Â
"Report me?" you laughed. "To who? Enhypen HR? Oh wait, youâre the leader. What are you going to do, write me a sternly worded memo."Â
"You know what, go ahead, report me," you taunted, smirking. "I'm dying to see who you think handles that kind of thing around here."
Jungwon huffed, crossing his arms. "I swear, you get away with way too much."Â
You stepped closer, tilting your head. "Youâre still blushing, by the way."Â
His hands shot up to his cheeks immediately. "I AM NOT!"Â
"Oh, you totally are," you teased. "Just admit you liked it, Wonie. I promise I wonât tell."Â
Jungwon groaned loudly, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. "I canât deal with you. I actually canât."Â
You sat beside him, nudging his shoulder. "You love dealing with me."Â
"No, I tolerate you," he muttered, shooting you a side-eye. "And barely."Â
You grinned. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that."Â
NISHIMURA RIKI
Ni-Ki was in the middle of dancing, testing out a new choreography in the practice room mirror. He was completely lost in the rhythm, his body moving fluidly, his focus locked on the routine.Â
Which made it the perfect moment.Â
You crept up behind him, watching as he executed a clean spin, and right as he landedâyou swung. Your hand connected with his ass with a loud SMACK.Â
Ni-Ki let out a scandalized squawk as he stumbled forward, nearly face-planting into the mirror. He caught himself just in time, spinning around to glare at you with wide eyes. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"Â
You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach as you watched his reaction. "Oh my God, your face! I shouldâve recorded that."Â
"Your such a gremlin," Ni-Ki gritted out, running a hand down his face. "What is wrong with you?!"Â
"Nothing," you wheezed between giggles. "Your ass was just asking for it."Â
Ni-Ki groaned dramatically. "MY ASS WAS MINDING ITS OWN DAMN BUSINESS!"Â
"It was too minding its own business," you teased. "I had to do something about it."Â
He pointed at you accusingly. "You are literally out of control."Â
"And yet, you keep me around," you shot back, smirking. "Which means you must like the chaos."Â
Ni-Ki rolled his eyes, turning back to the mirror. "I donât even know why I bother with you."Â
You stepped up beside him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "Because youâd be bored without me."Â
He sighed, shaking his head. "You are so lucky I tolerate your bullshit."Â
"Love, Ni-Ki," you corrected with a grin. "You love my bullshit."Â
He snorted, finally cracking a reluctant smile. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night."Â
Synopsis: A playful smack here, a dramatic reaction thereâturns out, teasing them is way more entertaining than you expected.
W/C: 2.2k Â
Warnings: Suggestive themes, playful teasing, excessive flirting, mild swearing, chaotic energy, dramatic reactions, mentions of violence (playful), second-hand embarrassmentÂ
Pairing: Enhypen ot7 x gn! readerÂ
Genre: Fluff, RomanceÂ
AU: Established RelationshipÂ
LEE HEESEUNG
You were lounging in the dorms when Heeseung stood up to grab something from the kitchen. As he passed by, your hand instinctively shot out, landing a playful smack on his ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Heeseung froze mid-step, turning to glare at you with wide eyes.Â
âWhat the hell was that?â he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.Â
You shrugged nonchalantly, biting back a grin. âWhat? It was right there. I couldnât resist.âÂ
Heeseung scoffed, shaking his head. âYouâre unbelievable. You canât just go around slapping peopleâs asses like that.âÂ
âOh, but you do it to the members all the time,â you retorted, leaning back against the couch. âDouble standards much?âÂ
âThatâs different!â he exclaimed, pointing at you accusingly. âTheyâre my members. Youâreââ He stopped himself, his face reddening slightly. âYouâre you.âÂ
âAnd?â you teased, tilting your head. âWhatâs your point, Hee?âÂ
Heeseung groaned, running a hand through his hair. âYouâre such a pain in the ass, you know that?âÂ
âSpeaking of asses...â you said with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows.Â
âDonât even start,â he warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. âYouâre so lucky Iove you.âÂ
âAw, you love me?â you cooed, batting your eyelashes at him. âSay it again, Hee.âÂ
âNot a chance,â he shot back, grabbing a pillow from the couch and throwing it at you. âNow stop harassing me, you menace.âÂ
âAdmit it, you secretly liked it,â you called after him as he walked away, flipping you off over his shoulder.Â
PARK JONSEONG
Jay was busy cooking in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he stirred something on the stove. The delicious smell filled the room, but your focus was elsewhereâspecifically, on the way his sweatpants fit a little too well. Before you could think twice, you walked up behind him and gave his ass a sharp slap.Â
Jay jumped, almost dropping the spoon in his hand. âWhat the fuck?â he yelped, spinning around to face you. His eyes were wide, and his ears were already turning red.Â
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. âSorry, it was just... right there. Couldnât help myself.âÂ
He narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the spoon in your direction. âYou have a death wish, donât you?âÂ
âRelax, Chef Ramsay,â you teased, leaning against the counter. âConsider it a compliment.âÂ
âA compliment?â he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. âOh, sure. Nothing screams âcomplimentâ like getting smacked in the ass while Iâm cooking.âÂ
âExactly,â you said with a grin. âItâs like... encouragement. Youâre doing a great job, babe.âÂ
Jay groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. âYouâre insufferable.âÂ
âAnd you love it,â you shot back, grabbing a piece of chopped carrot from the cutting board.Â
âLove is a strong word,â he muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.Â
âAdmit it,â you said, stepping closer and poking his chest. âYou secretly liked it.âÂ
Jay leaned down, his face inches from yours. âIf you do it again, Iâm kicking you out of the kitchen,â he said, his voice low and threateningâthough the blush on his cheeks ruined the effect.Â
âNoted,â you replied sweetly, patting his chest. âBut no promises.âÂ
âUnbelievable,â he muttered, turning back to the stove. You could still see the tips of his ears burning red as he focused on cooking, muttering something about how you were a menace under his breath.Â
SIM JAEYUN
Jake was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone while his legs dangled off the armrest. You walked by, taking in the perfect opportunity. Without hesitation, you swung your hand and smacked his ass. Hard.Â
âHoly shit!â Jake yelped, nearly dropping his phone as he bolted upright. âWhat the hell was that for?âÂ
You doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach. âYour reaction! Oh my God, Jake, you looked like you saw a ghost!âÂ
He glared at you, his cheeks turning pink. âYouâre so fucking annoying. Who even does that?âÂ
âMe, apparently,â you said, grinning. âNice reflexes, by the way.âÂ
Jake rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch. âYouâre lucky I didnât accidentally kick you.âÂ
âOh, please. Youâd never,â you teased, plopping down beside him. âYouâre too soft for that.âÂ
âSoft?â he repeated, looking offended. âIâll show you softââ He lunged forward, grabbing a pillow and whacking you with it.Â
âHey!â you protested, laughing as you tried to fend him off. âViolence isnât the answer, Jake!âÂ
âIt is when youâre the problem,â he shot back, though he was laughing now too.Â
You managed to grab the pillow from him, holding it over your head in victory. âAdmit it, though. You secretly liked it.âÂ
Jake scoffed, crossing his arms. âIn what world would I like being slapped in the ass?âÂ
âThis one,â you said confidently, smirking at him. âDonât lie, Jake. I saw the way you blushed.âÂ
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. âYouâre so goddamn annoying. Why do I even put up with you?âÂ
âBecause you love me,â you replied with a cheeky grin, poking his side. âAdmit it.âÂ
âYeah, yeah,â he muttered, but the small smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.Â
PARK SUNGHOON
Sunghoon was standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair for the millionth time. He was so focused on his reflection that he didnât notice you sneaking up behind him. Without warning, you slapped his ass, the loud smack echoing in the room.Â
âWhat the fuck?â Sunghoon exclaimed, spinning around to glare at you. His cheeks flushed pink as he stared at you in disbelief. âDid you justââÂ
âI sure did,â you said, grinning up at him. âNice reaction time, by the way.âÂ
Sunghoon scowled, crossing his arms. âWhat the hell is wrong with you?âÂ
âNothing,â you replied innocently. âI just thought you needed a little... appreciation.âÂ
âAppreciation for what?â he demanded, narrowing his eyes.Â
âFor being so pretty,â you said with a smirk. âYouâre welcome.âÂ
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. âYouâre unbelievable.âÂ
âAnd youâre blushing,â you shot back, pointing at his red cheeks.Â
âI am not,â he said quickly, turning back to the mirror. âYouâre just imagining things.âÂ
âSure, Hoon,â you teased, stepping closer to poke his side. âWhatever helps you sleep at night.âÂ
He swatted your hand away, muttering something under his breath. âYouâre so annoying.âÂ
âBut you love me,â you said, grinning.Â
âDebatable,â he replied, though the small smile tugging at his lips said otherwise.Â
KIM SUNOO
Sunoo was lying on his bed, scrolling through his phone. You walked by, smirking as you saw the perfect opportunity. Without hesitation, you slapped his ass, earning a loud yelp from him.Â
âYah! What the hell?â Sunoo exclaimed, sitting up to glare at you. His cheeks were already turning red.Â
âSorry,â you said, not sounding sorry at all. âCouldnât resist.âÂ
He narrowed his eyes at you, pointing accusingly. âYouâre so dead.âÂ
âOh, come on,â you teased, holding your hands up in mock surrender. âItâs not that big of a deal.âÂ
âNot that big of a deal?â he repeated, his voice rising an octave. âYou just smacked my ass!âÂ
âAnd it was a good one,â you said with a grin. âProps to you, Sunoo.âÂ
He groaned, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at you. âYouâre the worst.âÂ
âAnd yet, here we are,â you said, dodging the pillow. âAdmit it, though. You secretly liked it.âÂ
âIn your dreams,â he shot back, though the blush on his cheeks gave him away.Â
YANG JUNGWON
Jungwon was tidying up the living room, humming to himself as he carefully folded a blanket. You watched him for a moment, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. The moment he turned slightly, you took your chanceâyour hand shot out, landing a loud smack on his ass.Â
Jungwon yelped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he whipped around to glare at you. "What the hell was that?!"Â
You shrugged, barely holding back laughter. "A well-executed ass slap, obviously."Â
His jaw dropped as he stared at you in disbelief. "Youâyou can't just do that! What is wrong with you?"Â
"Plenty of things," you admitted with a smirk. "But thatâs not the point here."Â
Jungwon groaned, covering his face with both hands for a second before pointing an accusing finger at you. "Youâre the walking embodiment of âthis is why we canât have nice thingsâ. Do you even think before you act?"Â
"Nope," you answered proudly. "Itâs called living in the moment, Wonie. You should try it."Â
"Living in the moment doesn't mean violating my personal space!" he exclaimed, his ears burning bright red. "I should report you for this."Â
"Report me?" you laughed. "To who? Enhypen HR? Oh wait, youâre the leader. What are you going to do, write me a sternly worded memo."Â
"You know what, go ahead, report me," you taunted, smirking. "I'm dying to see who you think handles that kind of thing around here."
Jungwon huffed, crossing his arms. "I swear, you get away with way too much."Â
You stepped closer, tilting your head. "Youâre still blushing, by the way."Â
His hands shot up to his cheeks immediately. "I AM NOT!"Â
"Oh, you totally are," you teased. "Just admit you liked it, Wonie. I promise I wonât tell."Â
Jungwon groaned loudly, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. "I canât deal with you. I actually canât."Â
You sat beside him, nudging his shoulder. "You love dealing with me."Â
"No, I tolerate you," he muttered, shooting you a side-eye. "And barely."Â
You grinned. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that."Â
NISHIMURA RIKI
Ni-Ki was in the middle of dancing, testing out a new choreography in the practice room mirror. He was completely lost in the rhythm, his body moving fluidly, his focus locked on the routine.Â
Which made it the perfect moment.Â
You crept up behind him, watching as he executed a clean spin, and right as he landedâyou swung. Your hand connected with his ass with a loud SMACK.Â
Ni-Ki let out a scandalized squawk as he stumbled forward, nearly face-planting into the mirror. He caught himself just in time, spinning around to glare at you with wide eyes. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"Â
You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach as you watched his reaction. "Oh my God, your face! I shouldâve recorded that."Â
"Your such a gremlin," Ni-Ki gritted out, running a hand down his face. "What is wrong with you?!"Â
"Nothing," you wheezed between giggles. "Your ass was just asking for it."Â
Ni-Ki groaned dramatically. "MY ASS WAS MINDING ITS OWN DAMN BUSINESS!"Â
"It was too minding its own business," you teased. "I had to do something about it."Â
He pointed at you accusingly. "You are literally out of control."Â
"And yet, you keep me around," you shot back, smirking. "Which means you must like the chaos."Â
Ni-Ki rolled his eyes, turning back to the mirror. "I donât even know why I bother with you."Â
You stepped up beside him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "Because youâd be bored without me."Â
He sighed, shaking his head. "You are so lucky I tolerate your bullshit."Â
"Love, Ni-Ki," you corrected with a grin. "You love my bullshit."Â
He snorted, finally cracking a reluctant smile. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night."Â
Synopsis:Â Alternatively when you make Enhypen somewhat flustered.
W/C: 2.1k Â
Warnings: Fluff, Mild teasing, Flustered behaviour, Light-hearted flirting, Comfort and affection, Possibly slightly cheesy.Â
Pairing: bf!enhypen x gn!readerÂ
Genre: Fluff, RomanceÂ
AU: Established RelationshipÂ
Part 1
LEE HEESEUNGÂ
You were sitting on the studio couch as Heeseung wrapped up his practice session. His voice effortlessly hit the high notes, leaving you completely mesmerized. When he finished, he looked over at you, slightly out of breath but wearing that proud smile he always had after nailing a tough section.
âHow was it?â he asked casually, grabbing a water bottle from the table.
You tilted your head at him, a playful glint in your eyes. âIt was⊠perfect. As always.â
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. âYou donât have to butter me up, you know. Iâm just practicing.â
You sat up straighter, your expression growing mock-serious. âHeeseung, Iâm not buttering you up. Iâm being 100% serious. The way you singâitâs like you were born for this. Honestly, Iâm so impressed Iâm questioning why I even deserve to sit here and listen.â
He choked on his water at your dramatic delivery, turning away to hide his flustered expression. âO-Okay, thatâs a little too much. Tone it down!â
You grinned, leaning closer. âTone it down? Absolutely not. Iâm a big fan of yours, Lee Heeseung, and I will shout it from the rooftops if I have to.â
He groaned, running a hand over his face. âStop, youâre making me embarrassed.â
âAw, youâre blushing!â you teased, poking his cheek. âI knew you were soft behind all that stage confidence.â
âIâm not soft!â he protested, his voice cracking slightly, which only made him blush more.
âSure, sure,â you said with a laugh. âBut seriously, Heeseung, youâre incredible. And I think people donât tell you that enough.â
For a moment, his teasing demeanor softened, and he looked at you with a shy smile. âThanks,â he said quietly. âIt means a lot coming from you.â
You poked his cheek again, grinning. âAdorable.â
âStop calling me adorable!â
PARK JONGSEONGÂ
You were lounging on the couch with Jay, enjoying a lazy afternoon while he scrolled through his phone. Occasionally, heâd chuckle at something and show you, but for the most part, you just admired how effortlessly good-looking he was, even in his most casual outfit.
Out of nowhere, you blurted out, âYou know, youâre really attractive.â
Jay froze mid-scroll, his thumb hovering above the screen. He turned to look at you, wide-eyed. âWhat?â
âYouâre attractive,â you repeated, completely nonchalant. âLike, ridiculously so.â
Jay blinked rapidly, his ears turning red as he tried to figure out how to respond. âOh⊠uh⊠thanks?â
You smirked, leaning closer. âYouâre blushing.â
âIâm not!â he shot back, sitting up straighter.
âYou totally are,â you teased, pointing at his reddening ears. âItâs cute, honestly. You always act so confident, but one little compliment and youâre all shy.â
He groaned, covering his face with his hands. âYou canât just say stuff like that out of nowhere! Itâs not fair!â
âWhy not?â you asked innocently. âItâs the truth. Youâre stupidly handsome, and sometimes itâs distracting.â
Jay peeked at you from behind his fingers, his face still red. âYouâre enjoying this, arenât you?â
âMaybe a little,â you admitted with a grin. âBut admit itâyou like hearing it from me.â
He sighed, shaking his head with a shy smile. âOkay, fine. Maybe I do. But donât think Iâll let you get away with this again.â
âSure, sure,â you replied, laughing. âWhatever you say, blushing boy.â
SIM JAEYUNÂ
Jake was sitting at his desk, typing furiously on his laptop. His brows furrowed in concentration, and his lips were pursed slightly. You couldnât help but admire how cute he looked when he was so focused.
Feeling mischievous, you walked up behind him and gently wrapped your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his head.
âHi,â you whispered softly.
Jake froze, his hands hovering over the keyboard. âUh⊠hi?â he replied, his voice slightly shaky.
âYouâve been working so hard,â you murmured, leaning into him a bit more. âI thought you could use a hug.â
Jake let out a nervous laugh, his ears turning red. âOh, uh⊠thanks? You didnât have to, though.â
âBut I wanted to,â you said simply. âYouâre always so sweet to me, Jake. I wanted to return the favor.â
He fidgeted in his seat, trying to hide his obvious flustered state. âYouâre really good at this, you know. Flustering me.â
You grinned, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. âOnly you. Youâre easy to fluster.â
Jake groaned, leaning back in his chair to look up at you. His cheeks were bright red, but he couldnât hide his smile. âYouâre gonna kill me with all this, you know that?â
âYouâll survive,â you teased, ruffling his hair. âYouâre cute when youâre flustered.â
He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. âYouâre lucky I love you so much,â he muttered, though the fond look in his eyes betrayed him.
PARK SUNGHOONÂ
Sunghoon was scrolling through his phone as you sat across from him at the cafe. His cold brew sat untouched, the ice slowly melting as he furrowed his brow at something on his screen.Â
You tilted your head, watching him with a small smile. âWhat are you looking at so intensely?â
âSkating videos,â he replied without looking up.Â
You leaned forward, trying to peek at his phone. âAre you studying or just reminiscing about your glory days?âÂ
He shot you a playful glare, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. âFirst of all, theyâre not âglory days.â Iâm still a legend, thank you very much.âÂ
âOh, my bad,â you teased, leaning back in your chair. âThe legendary Park Sunghoon. How could I forget?âÂ
He rolled his eyes, finally putting his phone down. âYouâre impossible.âÂ
âBut you like it,â you said with a grin.Â
Sunghoon leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he gave you a smirk. âMaybe I do. What about it?âÂ
You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden boldness. âIâuhâwellâŠâÂ
He chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. âWhat happened to all that teasing? Cat got your tongue?âÂ
You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to regain your composure. âI was just surprised you actually admitted it. Youâre usually so aloof.âÂ
He shrugged, sipping his cold brew. âMaybe I like seeing you flustered. Itâs cute.âÂ
Sunoo was rummaging through a pile of snacks on the coffee table, his face lighting up every time he found something he liked. You sat beside him, watching his childlike excitement with a fond smile.Â
âDo you ever stop being adorable?â you asked suddenly.Â
He paused, a bag of chips in hand, and turned to look at you with wide eyes. âWhat?âÂ
âYouâre just so cute all the time,â you said, leaning your chin on your hand. âItâs unfair, really.âÂ
Sunooâs cheeks turned pink as he tried to play it cool. âI mean⊠I canât help it if Iâm naturally charming.âÂ
You laughed, reaching over to poke his cheek. âThere it isâthe confidence. But seriously, Sunoo, youâre like a human ball of sunshine. Itâs impossible not to smile around you.âÂ
He beamed at your words, his blush deepening. âWell, someone has to keep you smiling, right?âÂ
You grinned, leaning closer. âMission accomplished. But what about me? Do I make you smile too?âÂ
Sunoo looked at you for a moment before breaking into a shy yet radiant smile. âAll the time,â he admitted softly.Â
Your heart skipped a beat at his sincerity, and you couldnât help but ruffle his hair. âYouâre too sweet for your own good, you know that?âÂ
âMaybe,â he said with a giggle. âBut itâs worth it if it makes you happy.âÂ
YANG JUNGWONÂ
Jungwon was sitting next to you on the floor, going over some choreography videos. His expression was serious, brows furrowed as he replayed the same clip over and over, analysing every move with a laser focus.Â
You, however, had long since zoned out. It wasnât that the video wasnât interesting; it was just that Jungwon himself was far more captivating. The way his lips pressed together in thought, the way his eyes narrowed slightly as he concentratedâit was hard not to admire him when he got like this.Â
Without thinking, you reached out and brushed his hair back. It was such a casual, natural movement that it didnât even register as anything out of the ordinary.Â
But to Jungwon, it was a completely different story.Â
He froze immediately, his whole body stiffening as his eyes widened in surprise. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but no words came out.Â
âWhat?â you asked, confused by his reaction. âYour hair was in your face. I was just helping.âÂ
Jungwon blinked, and then his cheeks flushed a bright pink. âYou... You canât just do that,â he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically high.Â
âDo what?â you asked, tilting your head. âFix your hair? Itâs not a big deal.âÂ
âNot a big deal?â he repeated, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. âItâs just... you caught me off guard, thatâs all.âÂ
A small smile tugged at your lips as you realized what was happening. âJungwon,â you said teasingly, leaning closer, âare you flustered?âÂ
âWhat? No!â he said quickly, his voice defensive. He avoided your gaze, but the redness spreading to the tips of his ears betrayed him.Â
âYou totally are,â you teased, your grin growing. âItâs cute, though. Youâre cute.âÂ
Jungwon groaned softly, covering his face with his hands. âStop,â he mumbled, his voice muffled. âYouâre going to make it worse.âÂ
âMake what worse? The fact that youâre blushing?â you teased, reaching out to gently nudge his shoulder.Â
âIâm not blushing,â he insisted, though his voice lacked conviction.Â
âYou so are,â you shot back, laughing. âItâs okay, though. It makes you even more endearing.âÂ
Jungwon peeked at you from between his fingers, his eyes narrowing slightly in playful annoyance. âYouâre enjoying this way too much,â he muttered.Â
âI canât help it,â you said with a shrug, your smile softening. âYouâre really cute when youâre flustered, you know?âÂ
He let out a sigh, finally dropping his hands from his face. His cheeks were still pink, but he managed to muster a shy smile. âYou drive me crazy,â he said quietly, shaking his head.Â
âAnd yet, you still hang out with me,â you replied with a grin.Â
Jungwon chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing. âYeah, well... I guess youâre worth it,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper.Â
His words made you freeze this time, and he smirked at your wide-eyed reaction. âNow whoâs flustered?âÂ
NISHIMURA RIKIÂ Â
Ni-Ki was sprawled out on the couch, gripping the video game controller like his life depended on it. His eyes were glued to the screen, lips pressed into a focused line as his character dodged another attack. You sat next to him, your legs crossed and a bag of chips resting in your lap.
âYouâre way too serious about this,â you teased, munching on a chip.
âYou say that, but you wouldnât last ten seconds in this game,â he retorted, his tone dripping with confidence.
âOh, is that a challenge?â you quipped, setting the chips aside.
He chuckled, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. âIf you think you can handle the humiliation, sure.â
You smirked, grabbing the controller he tossed your way. âWatch and learn, Ni-Ki.â
The moment the game began, chaos ensued. Your character staggered around, hitting walls and completely missing the enemies. Ni-Ki didnât even try to hold back his laughter, practically doubling over as you flailed.
âThis isâthis is so bad,â he wheezed, clutching his stomach. âI knew youâd be bad, but this?!â
âOkay, stop laughing before I throw this controller at you!â you huffed, cheeks burning from embarrassment.
âYou couldnât even aim that right,â he teased, wiping away a tear.
âOh, thatâs it,â you said, setting the controller down and turning to face him. He didnât even notice the mischievous glint in your eyes as he kept laughing.
âNi-ki,â you said sweetly, leaning closer.
âYeah?â he asked, still smirking.
Without missing a beat, you rested your hand on his knee and leaned in until your faces were barely a breath apart. âYou talk a big game, but youâre blushing harder than I am right now.â
His laughter stopped instantly. His smug grin faltered as his eyes widened. âW-What?â
You tilted your head, pretending to examine him. âYour ears are turning red, too. Cute.â
Ni-Ki blinked rapidly, scrambling to lean back against the couch as if it would put more distance between you two. âIâIâm not blushing! What are you even talking about?â
You laughed, leaning back and crossing your arms triumphantly. âUh-huh. Sure. Totally not flustered, right?â
âIâm not!â he insisted, his voice an octave higher than usual. He covered his face with his hands, only making his obvious reaction worse.
âRiki,â you cooed, leaning toward him again. âAre you embarrassed because I got close? Or because I caught you staring at my lips earlier?â
His jaw dropped, and his blush spread all the way down his neck. âI wasnâtâ I didnâtâ Youâre making that up!â
âOh, really?â you teased, narrowing your eyes. âThen why canât you even look at me right now?â
âIâmâugh!â he groaned, burying his face in a pillow as you erupted into laughter.
âAdmit it,â you said between giggles, poking his side. âI totally won this round.â
âWhatever,â he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. âIâm never playing games with you again.â
âDonât be mad,â you teased, leaning closer to ruffle his hair. âYouâre cute when youâre flustered, you know?â
He peeked out from the pillow, his face still bright red. âStop saying stuff like that!â
You smirked, your victory sweeter than any high score.
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Synopsis:Â In which Enhypen leaves you flustered with their sweet gestures, playful teasing, and protective sides, making you feel loved and embarrassed all at once.
Pairing: bf!enhypen x gn!readerÂ
Genre: Fluff, RomanceÂ
AU: Established RelationshipÂ
LEE HEESEUNG
Youâre curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a blanket draped over your legs. Heeseung walks into the room, holding his guitar like itâs no big deal. He plops down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight, and starts strumming lazily.Â
You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. âPracticing again?âÂ
âSomething like that,â he says with a smirk before breaking into a sweet melody. The song sounds oddly familiar, and then you realizeâheâs improvising lyrics about you. Theyâre cheesy, talking about how your laugh is his favourite sound and how even your messy hair is perfect to him.Â
âYouâre not serious,â you say, raising an eyebrow as you glance at him.Â
âAbout what?â Heeseung asks innocently, a teasing glint in his eyes.Â
âAbout playing me a song right now,â you reply, crossing your arms. âYou know Iâm not falling for that cheesy stuff.âÂ
Heeseung only grins and leans in closer. âIâm not trying to be cheesy,â he says, strumming the guitar a little louder. âBut I think youâre already falling for it.âÂ
You roll your eyes, but you canât help but smile. âPlease donât make this any worse, Heeseung.âÂ
But before you know it, he starts singing again. The lyrics this time were about how you light up his world, how heâs so lucky to be with you, and how even your quirks are perfect to him. Â
You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. âHeeseung, stop!âÂ
âWhy? Am I making you blush?â he teases, leaning closer, still playing. His voice softens, and he gives you this lookâpart playful, part sincereâthat makes your heart skip. âYouâre really cute when youâre embarrassed, you know?âÂ
âNot cute! Iâm dying of second-hand embarrassment,â you reply, but you canât help but smile. Heeseungâs face lights up as he continues to sing, and for a moment, nothing else matters but his voice and the way he makes you feel like youâre the most important person in the world.Â
PARK JONSEONG
Youâre in the kitchen, huffing in frustration while trying to open a jar of pasta sauce. âUgh, seriously?â you mutter to yourself, tugging at it harder. Just as youâre about to give up, you hear Jayâs voice behind you.Â
âNeed some help, babe?â he asks, his voice dripping with that familiar confidence. You turn to see him standing there, hands casually in his pockets.
âNo, I got it,â you say quickly, not wanting to admit youâre struggling. You give the lid another twist.Â
Jay just raises an eyebrow. âYeah, it looks like you really got it,â he teases. âLet me just do it.â he says, already reaching for the jar. Before you can even answer, he takes it from your hands and pops the lid off like itâs nothing with a smirk on his face. âYou canât do everything yourself, you know.âÂ
You cross your arms, huffing in mock annoyance. âI couldâve gotten it! Itâs just a jar!âÂ
âSure you could,â he says, giving you a look that says heâs not buying it for a second. âBut you didnât. And now Iâm the hero of the day.âÂ
âShow-off,â you mutter, but before you can grab the jar back, he steps closer. His chest brushes lightly against your shoulder as he leans down to whisper in your ear, âHow would you survive without me, huh?âÂ
His voice is low, smooth, and so close that you freeze. The warmth of his breath on your skin sends a jolt straight to your stomach. You try to come up with a comeback, but all that comes out is a flustered laugh.Â
Jay pulls back with a grin, clearly proud of himself. âYouâre welcome,â he says casually, setting the jar down like nothing happened, leaving you to process your racing heart.Â
âUgh, whatever,â you mutter, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. âBut I definitely donât need a âhero.ââÂ
âOf course you do,â he replies, winking. âEvery superhero has their sidekick.âÂ
SIM JAEYUN
 Youâre standing in front of the mirror, frowning as you debate between two outfits. Jake sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with his head propped up on his hand.Â
âWhich one do you like better?â you ask, holding up both options.Â
He doesnât even look at the clothes. Instead, he says, âYou.âÂ
You pause, blinking at him. âWhat?âÂ
He grins, standing up and walking over to you. âI mean, you could wear either of thoseâor nothing at allâand youâd still look amazing.âÂ
You roll your eyes, trying to hide how flustered you are. âThatâs not helpful.âÂ
Jake laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. âIâm serious. You could wear a trash bag, and Iâd still think youâre the most beautiful person in the room.âÂ
Your cheeks burn as you swat at him. âStop it, Jake!â You laugh nervously, but Jake isnât done.
âActually, scratch that,â he says, his voice softer now. âYouâd still outshine the sun even if you wore a potato sack.âÂ
Rolling your eyes, you try to step away, but Jake gently pulls you back, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. He rests his forehead lightly against the side of your head, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. âWhy do you always get so shy when I tell you how amazing you are?âÂ
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. âBecause youâre so extra sometimes,â you mumble, but thereâs a smile tugging at your lips.Â
Jake chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. âCanât help it,â he says with a grin you can feel more than see. âI mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? You make it way too easy for me to hype you up.âÂ
You glance at him, finally letting out a real laugh as the warmth of his words starts to sink in. âYouâre ridiculous,â you tease, but your voice is soft, affectionate.Â
âAnd you love it,â he quips, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. His expression shifts, becoming more tender as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. âFor real, though,â he adds, his voice steady and sincere, âyouâre beautifulâÂ
Your face warms, but this time, you donât try to hide it. Instead, you lean into him, resting your head on his chest with a content sigh.Â
He just laughs again, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. âYouâre perfect without even trying.âÂ
PARK SUNGHOON
Itâs a lazy Saturday morning, and youâre lounging around in an oversized hoodie, feeling cozy and not at all concerned about how you look. Youâre still in your pajamas, hair a mess, and in your fuzzy socks on the couch when Sunghoon enters the room, looking as put-together as ever.Â
He stops in his tracks when he sees you. âWow. Are you trying to set a new record for the âcozy chicâ look?âÂ
You glance over at him and laugh, tugging the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âWell,â Sunghoon says, crossing his arms, âI mean, itâs kind of unfair. Even when youâre like thisââhe gestures at your hoodieââyouâre still so cute itâs ridiculous.âÂ
You blink, completely caught off guard. âExcuse me?âÂ
He walks closer to you, his eyes playful. âI mean, you could wear literally anything, and Iâd still think youâre cute, but youâre not even trying today.âÂ
âYouâre ridiculous!â you exclaim, grabbing a sofa pillow and throwing it at him.Â
But Sunghoon catches it effortlessly, his smirk only growing. âWhat? Iâm just stating the obvious. You know youâre perfect, even when you donât try.âÂ
He rests his arms on the armrest of the sofa and leans in as you give him a funny look. âWhat? Canât handle a little truth?âÂ
You sigh dramatically. âYouâre such a handful, you know that?âÂ
âI know,â Sunghoon says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. âBut you still love me, donât you?âÂ
You bite your lip, trying not to smile. âMaybe.âÂ
KIM SUNOO
Youâre walking through the park with Sunoo, holding hands and chatting about everything and nothing. The day is perfectâblue skies, a light breeze, and his hand warm in yours.Â
Suddenly, he stops walking. âHold on,â he says, looking down.Â
You follow his gaze and realize your shoelace is untied. Before you can bend down to fix it, Sunoo crouches in front of you, taking your foot gently in his hands.Â
âSunoo, I can do it,â you protest, feeling your face heat up as people glance your way.Â
âShh, Iâve got it,â he says, tying the laces with a practiced ease and looks up at you with a cheeky smile. âYou donât want to trip, do you?â Â
You roll your eyes. âIâm fine! I can tie my own shoes.âÂ
âYeah, but Iâm the one who always makes sure you donât fall,â Sunoo teases, finishing the knot with a neat little bow and standing up. âCanât have you getting hurt on my watch.âÂ
Youâre about to thank him when he stands up and brushes off his pants. âYouâre lucky Iâm here to take care of you,â he teases, linking his arm with yours again.Â
You try to act annoyed, but the affection in his voice makes it impossible not to feel warm inside. You shake your head, trying to ignore how flustered you feel. âYouâre too much sometimes.âÂ
âAnd you love it,â he shoots back with a grin.Â
YANG JUNGWON
Itâs another quiet night, and youâre both on the couch, wrapped in your favourite blanket. The warm light from the lamps in the room casts a soft glow, and the sound of the movie playing in the background is just a distant hum compared to the peaceful silence between you two. Youâve been talking here and there, laughing about silly things, but now youâre both just enjoying each otherâs presence.Â
You notice your hands are getting colder, and you instinctively start rubbing them together to warm them up. At first, you donât think much of it. But then, you feel Jungwonâs gaze on you.Â
Without a word, he shifts closer to you, his arm around you tightening slightly, as if to pull you into him even more. Youâre about to make some sarcastic comment, but before you can, Jungwon takes your hand gently, his fingers warming up your cold ones.Â
âYouâre freezing,â he says quietly, his voice laced with concern, as if he canât stand seeing you uncomfortable.Â
You chuckle softly, trying to brush it off. âIâm fine. Itâs just a little cold. Itâll pass.âÂ
Jungwonâs brow furrows slightly, but he doesnât let go of your hand. Heâs staring at your fingers, noticing how icy they are, and his dimple pops out as his lips curl into a small frown. âYou really are freezing,â he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand slowly, trying to transfer his warmth to you.Â
You feel your heart flutter at the tenderness of his touch. Itâs so simple, yet it feels so intimate. You look up at him, not expecting the softness in his eyes.Â
âJungwon, you really donât have to do that,â you say, your voice almost a whisper, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you thought you would.Â
But he just shakes his head, his expression softening as he looks at you. âI want to.â His voice is low, genuine, and you can tell heâs not saying it just to reassure you. He means it.Â
Before you can argue, Jungwon scoots even closer, taking both your hands in his. He brings them to his lips, gently kissing the tops of your fingers, sending a wave of warmth through your body that has nothing to do with the temperature.Â
âYouâre not used to people taking care of you, huh?â he says with a small smile, but thereâs a hint of curiosity in his voice, almost as if heâs trying to understand you better.Â
You look down, feeling a little embarrassed but also touched by how attentive heâs being. âI guess not. But itâs not like I need it all the time,â you murmur, trying to play it cool.Â
Jungwon just smiles, this time with a hint of mischief in his eyes. âItâs not about needing it. I just want you to feel comfortable. And Iâm always going to make sure youâre okay, even if you donât ask.âÂ
Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you canât find words. His kindness always catches you off guard, especially when itâs so genuine and effortless. Heâs not doing this for any reason other than that he cares.Â
You shift, leaning into him a little more, suddenly feeling the weight of his affection, making everything seem so much more real. âYouâre going to spoil me, you know that?âÂ
Jungwon chuckles, his hands still holding yours. âMaybe. But I like doing it. Youâre worth it.âÂ
NISHIMURA RIKI
Youâre walking through a crowded mall, shopping with Ni-ki. The place is packed, and as youâre navigating through the crowd, someone accidentally bumps into you. You stumble slightly, but before you can even react, Ni-ki is already there, stepping in front of you like a shield.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks immediately, his eyes scanning you for any sign of discomfort.Â
You quickly nod, trying to downplay it. âIâm fine, donât worry.âÂ
But Ni-kiâs eyes narrow, clearly not convinced. âStay close to me,â he says firmly, his hand gently slipping around your waist to pull you toward him as he expertly manoeuvres through the crowd, guiding you with ease.Â
You look up at him, a little startled by how serious he seems. âNi-ki, you donât need to protect me from everything,â you say, trying to brush it off.Â
But he just shrugs, still holding you close. âIâm your boyfriend, itâs my duty, I just want to make sure nothing happens to you.â His tone is calm, but the protective edge in his voice is obvious, and thereâs no way you can argue with that.Â
You roll your eyes, but thereâs no denying how sweet heâs being. âYouâre such a mom sometimes,â you tease, trying to lighten the mood.Â
Ni-ki smirks, his protective hold never loosening. âWell, Iâm a good one, arenât I?âÂ
âYouâre impossible,â you say, though your heart skips a beat at how endearing heâs being.Â
âI know,â he says with a wink, squeezing you closer. âBut youâll thank me later when nothing happens to you.âÂ
You canât help but smile. âFine, fine. But only because youâre cute.âÂ
Ni-kiâs grin widens as he leads you through the crowd, making sure to keep you close, and for the rest of the day, itâs clear heâs not about to let anything happen to you.Â
âStay close, okay?â he says softly, a little more quietly this time, and itâs in that moment you realize just how much he cares.Â
You smile, leaning into him a little more as you walk side by side. âYeah, okay. Iâll stay close.âÂ