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hyuckiefluff · 3 months ago

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dr dreamy | na jaemin

pairing: doctor!neighbor! na jaemin x fem.reader genre & wc: smut, fluff, crack (ish) | 18k summary: in which your infuriatingly hot neighbor ends up getting your box of sex toys delivered to his door by mistake content warning: explicit smut, breast play, oral sex (fem.receiving), brief mentions of sex toy usage, teasing, marking, dry humping, cowgirl (yeehaw), alcohol consumption, monster cawwwk jaemin (i didn’t make this up it’s real) a/n: hiiiii yes yes i know, it’s been forever and ive neglected you all so bad i’m so sorry ! i can’t even use the excuse of being too busy bc i was just in the worst writing slump of my life. but i hope i can make up for all those 10 months of radio silence with this long fic :) also it’s pretty different from what i’m used to writing. for once i wrote it all in lowercase bc i felt like this was lowkey a pretty unserious fic and that was the vibe it required lol it’s also my first time trying to write something “funny” but my humor is not that good still i tried lolz. also i'd like to add that i know as much about doctors as the next person so don't expect much accuracy in that regard. anyways hope you enjoy :)

read part two here

your leg bounced anxiously as you stared at the photo the delivery guy sent, trying to figure out which door your package had ended up on. every single door in your building was the same plain white with no decoration, no plants, no quirky doormat to offer a clue. just a long, boring hallway of identical doors, and somewhere behind one of them was your package.

"great," you muttered, already feeling the creeping frustration in your chest.

your phone buzzed in your hand, and you barely had time to glance at the screen before answering.

"sooo," came minnie's voice, far too chipper for this disaster, "did you like my gift?”

“i’m gonna strangle you,” you hissed, rubbing your temples.

“woah, you know i’m not into that freaky shit.”

“i’m serious, minnie,” you groaned, dragging a hand through your hair. “the package got delivered to a different apartment. you must’ve put the wrong number on it.”

“no way,” she gasped, already on the defensive. “i literally double-checked. triple-checked, even. it’s apartment 235.”

"what?” you yelled, nearly dropping your phone.

this can’t be happening. out of all the apartments in your building… it had to be that one?

“minnie…” you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, "it’s 236. apartment 236.”

she paused. “oh.”

you heard her laugh nervously, and it took everything in you not to throw your phone across the room.

“minnie…” you groaned, pressing your forehead against the wall. “i swear, if it’s what i think it is based on our last conversation…” your voice trailed off as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “my next-door neighbor, minnie. MINNIE. jaemin…oh my god.”

“wait,” she said, voice sharp with interest. “is that the doctor you said is too hot for his own good?”

“i did not say that.”

“you did.”

“no, i said he’s just… a nice sight for my eyes, okay? in a building full of old people, sue me for appreciating the view.” you rubbed at your face. “but i can’t face him if he saw what’s in that package. i just can’t.”

“listen…” minnie drawled. “what if he’s into it, though? think about it.”

“i’m hanging up.”

“no, wait—” but you pressed the red button before she could finish.

the most mortifying experience of your 24 years on this planet, and it hadn’t even fully happened yet. but you could see it clear as day: the box, him opening it innocently, and its contents—oh, god, the contents.

the thing is, you and minnie had a dumb tradition. whenever life got a little too miserable or stressful, you’d send each other gifts. random, stupid stuff. a manga you’d been talking about, or a plushie of your favorite sanrio character. the catch was you could never reveal what it was until it was opened. it was supposed to be a surprise.

except this time, you were sure minnie’s idea of a "surprise" was directly inspired by your recent rants about being, well… frustrated. as in, the sexual kind of frustration. you had a strong hunch about what she’d sent.

you sank into the couch, letting out a long sigh. you had two choices: go over there and pray he hadn’t opened it, or stay here and hope the ground swallowed you whole. both seemed equally unlikely.

as you stared at the ceiling, someone knocked on the door.

three soft knocks.

your heart stopped, your body jolting so hard you nearly rolled off the couch. no. no, no, no. not him. please not him.

you tiptoed to the door like a cartoon burglar, eyes wide with panic. don’t answer. if you don’t answer, he’ll just leave it. you could grab it later. it’s fine. everything’s fine.

but as you got closer, you heard the softest shuffle from the other side. he was still there. you peeked through the peephole and there he was indeed… jaemin. your very handsome, very distinguished doctor neighbor. standing there, holding your box.

you backed away from the door like it was about to explode. no, nope, you’d just wait until he—

you bumped into the side table. hard. and in a moment of unfiltered pain, you yelled, “FUCK!” loud enough to echo down the hall.

a long pause.

“hello?” his voice was clear through the door. smooth, polite.

you shut your eyes so tight you saw stars. letting him think you weren’t home was six feet under now.

"just get it over with," you muttered to yourself, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look at destroyed as you felt.

you opened the door with the kind of smile you'd give a police officer who just pulled you over. "oh! good morning, neighbor!" you practically chirped, voice too high, too fake.

he smiled, sleepy but devastatingly handsome. his scrubs hung perfectly off his frame, and his hair was tousled like he'd just came from a long night shift…which he probably did. he had the kind of face that made you think life has favorites.

“morning,” he said, nodding his head. “sorry to bother you so early, but this…” he held up the box, fingers tapping the side of it. tap tap tap your eye twitched. “this got delivered to my place by mistake.”

he was so calm. too calm.

“oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely functional. “uh, yeah! no worries at all! my friend sent it, haha, she’s… forgetful like that. really bad with numbers. haha…” you trailed off. kill me now.

“right,” he said, eyes flicking to the box. “well, here you go.” he held it out to you.

you reached for it but your hands, slick with nervous sweat, betrayed you. the box slipped.

“oh no-”

thud.

everything.

everything spilled out.

time slowed. your heart dropped straight into hell.

boxes. bottles. wrappers.

and then the pièce de résistance.

a sex doll.

a life-size, anatomically correct, male sex doll.

you didn’t know what kind of sound you made, but it was something between a gasp and a whimper. your knees hit the floor as you scrambled to grab everything wishing you could somehow erase the last five seconds of reality.

“oh my god,” you whispered, cramming the boxes into your arms. “oh my god. oh my god.”

“uhm,” he cleared his throat and you didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of face he was making. there were no words for this. none. zero.

“thank you for bringing it to me! bye!” you choked out, voice cracking on the last syllable as you grabbed what you could and slammed the door shut with the force of a hurricane.

you pressed your back to the door, sinking to the floor, arms full of colorful boxes of shame. you stared at them.

a vibrator. a bottle of lube. a very, very anatomically correct doll still half in its box.

"minnie." you said her name like a curse.

your phone buzzed. it was a text from her.

minnie (6:18am): how’d it go?

“hell,” you muttered, tossing your phone across the room.

you sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of embarrassment crushing down on you. moving out suddenly seemed like the only reasonable option. scratch that, you were moving countries. or planets. was mars habitable yet?

♡ ♡ ♡

for the next few days, life was nothing short of miserable. you called in sick to work because there was no way you could leave your apartment and risk running into jaemin. the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist into knots. to anyone else, it might seem dramatic—after all, owning sex toys wasn’t some scandalous crime—but the sheer context of it all was unbearable.

the cherry on top was that the box had clearly already been opened. jaemin had definitely seen what was inside before you’d even dropped it. and the fact that he just pretended everything was normal while standing there with a straight face? it was almost worse. no, it was worse. because now he probably pitied you for dropping it in front of him even after he tried to save you from the embarrassment.

you groaned, burying your face into the couch cushions. where was the armageddon when you needed it?

you hadn’t left your spot in the couch days, and your body was starting to hate you for it. your back ached from the awkward angle you were lying in, and your stomach growled because you’d panic-eaten the last of your food last night.

“this is pathetic,” you muttered, grabbing your phone.

after scrolling aimlessly for a few minutes, you reluctantly opened your food delivery app. you ordered enough food for at least two days and prayed the delivery guy would bring it to your door. but of course, life hated you, so when you got the “can’t find parking” text, you sighed loudly.

“naturally,” you mumbled, dragging yourself off the couch.

you threw on the most disguising outfit you could find: a black beanie, your puffy winter coat, and oversized sunglasses. did you look like a wannabe celebrity trying to dodge the paparazzi? sure. but desperate times called for desperate measures.

you texted the driver a quick be right down and bolted to the elevator, keeping your head low.

when you reached the parking lot, you practically snatched the bag out of the driver’s hands and mumbled a quick thank you before rushing back inside. you were so close to safety now.

you stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, finally letting out a sigh of relief. but, as fate would have it, you celebrated just a tad too soon.

just before the doors closed, a hand shot through the gap. you froze.

you smelled him first.

that cologne. you’d know it anywhere.

your heart sank as jaemin stepped into the elevator, looking unfairly handsome as usual. you, on the other hand, looked like a fugitive.

“good afternoon,” he said politely, his voice calm and smooth.

“hi, uh…afternoon,” you mumbled, holding the bag of food up to your face like a shield. maybe if you hid behind it long enough, he wouldn’t notice it was you.

“y/n?”

shit.

you glanced at him reluctantly, offering an awkward laugh. “oh, hey, jaemin… didn’t realize it was you.” you pushed your sunglasses up onto your head. “these things are so dark.”

he chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “didn’t recognize you either. are you coming from an event or something?”

you blinked at him, realizing how ridiculous your outfit must look. “oh, no, i—uh… i have a cold,” you stammered. “just trying to stay warm, you know?”

“ah,” he nodded, his expression softening. “well, you should rest up. drink plenty of water and maybe some tea with honey, it helps soothe your throat. oh, and—”

he started rattling off doctorly advice and you could only stare at him, dumbfounded. because, of course, not only was he handsome, but he was kind, too. unfair. completely unfair.

“thanks,” you said, cutting him off before he could get too deep into his list of remedies.

he smiled at you again, and for a moment, you swore your heart skipped a beat. “i was actually a little worried,” he admitted, leaning against the elevator wall casually. “i haven’t seen you around the past few days.”

“oh. uh… yeah,” you said weakly, shifting the food bag in your hands. “just been laying low, don’t wanna get anyone sick.”

“i see,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “you’re not hiding from me, are you?”

your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. was it that obvious?

“what? no! why would i be hiding from you?” you forced out a laugh, but it sounded fake even to your ears.

he raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting a grin. “hmm. just checking.”

“yeah, it’s because of the cold” you muttered, fidgeting with the handle of the food bag. “it’s nothing serious, though. i appreciate the concern.” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“good to hear,” he said, his eyes still on you. “but still, if it doesn’t get better in a few days, you should probably see a doctor.”

“right. definitely,” you nodded quickly, eyes glued to the little numbers above the elevator door, silently willing them to move faster.

but of course, the universe hated you lately. the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, too soon for your floor. you flinched, and before you could even begin to hope it was just a regular stop, the overhead lights flickered once, then twice, and then… nothing.

darkness.

“oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groaned, tilting your head back against the cold elevator wall.

“well,” jaemin’s voice came through the darkness, and you could hear the grin in it, “this is bad timing, huh?”

“this is my villain origin story,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you slid down to sit on the floor. “this is how i finally snap and become one of those people who yell at customer service workers.”

he laughed, and you hated how nice it sounded. like melted chocolate. warm, smooth, and way too easy to get addicted to.

“guess we’re stuck for a bit,” he said, sitting across from you. you could only make out the faintest outline of him in the dim emergency lighting. “not a bad person to be stuck with, though.”

“yeah, lucky you,” you deadpanned, cradling your bag of food.

there was a pause. not an awkward one but it felt somewhat intimate and you didn’t like it. not because you felt uncomfortable but because you were scared of embarrassing yourself further.

“hey,” he spoke up again, softer this time. “about the other day…”

no. absolutely not. this was not happening.

“nope,” you cut him off, waving a hand like you could physically swat the topic away. “we don’t talk about that. ever.”

“but i think we should—”

“we don’t, jaemin,” you said firmly, pointing at him like a scolding parent. “it never happened. you never saw it. i never dropped it. in fact, none of it exists. it was a shared hallucination caused by gas leaks in the building. that’s my story, and i’m sticking to it.”

he snorted, hiding a laugh behind his hand. “gas leaks?”

“yep. toxic fumes. real health hazard,” you nodded, doubling down. “you should probably get management to check that out, doctor.”

“i’m a neurosurgeon, not an HVAC technician,” he shot back, amused.

“same difference,” you muttered.

another pause. you could feel him looking at you, even in the dimness.

“for what it’s worth,” he started slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully, “i wasn’t judging you.”

“good,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on your coat. “because i’m not like ashamed of it, just… mortified, you know?” you finally glanced up at him, feeling a little braver in the low light. “there’s a difference.”

he nodded, eyes warm and understanding in a way that made your chest ache. “there is.”

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall. “i’m moving. i’ve decided.”

he laughed, full and bright. “you’re not moving.”

“i am, actually,” you insisted. “gonna change my name, get a new identity. maybe move to the mountains. live off the grid. it’s the only way.”

“you’re ridiculous,” he said, still grinning.

“you say that like it’s news.”

silence settled over you both again, but this time it was lighter. less suffocating. you could hear him shift, stretching his legs out in front of him. he tapped his fingers against his knees like he was keeping time to a song only he could hear.

“so,” he said after a beat, voice low and casual. “was that, uh… the first time you ordered something like that?”

your whole face went hot.

“jaemin,” you warned.

“what?” he asked, the picture of innocence. “just curious.”

“don’t make me call those toxic fumes back in here,” you threatened, pointing a stern finger at him.

he threw his head back laughing, and despite yourself, you smiled too.

"fine, i won’t bring it up anymore,” he said with a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. his fingers pressed into the muscle there, and he winced slightly.

“you okay?” you asked, glancing at him with concern.

“yeah, just a long day at work,” he replied, rolling his shoulder like it’d been bothering him for hours.

“yeah, i can imagine. the life of a doctor must be pretty hectic,” you said, eyes flicking to his hands as they worked over the tense muscle. “but you gotta know your limits too… you’re not made of steel, you know.” there was a hint of worry in your voice, and you tried not to let it show too much, but judging by the way he glanced at you, he caught it.

he looked at you for a moment, longer than usual, before nodding. “you’re right,” he let out a short breath. “i guess i’ve been burying myself in work lately. but it’s hard not to when it’s this time of the year… i’m a pediatric neurosurgeon and too many kids get sick and hurt during the summer.”

“oh, definitely. i’m not even a kid and i always get sick in the summer,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

he laughed at that, his grin easy and genuine. “never too late to have fun during the summer,” he said, leaning back against the elevator wall. “just not too much fun. can’t party too hard with a cold.”

“do i look like the kind of person who parties too hard?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“hmm,” he tilted his head with a slight (cute) pout. “i wouldn’t know. we don’t know each other that well.” he glanced at you, eyes flicking over you just once before smirking. “but you’re young and pretty, so why not?”

your heart stumbled in your chest, and you fought to keep your face neutral. did he seriously just call you pretty so casually like it was a fact of life? the dim lighting of the elevator became your saving grace, hiding the warmth that crept up your neck.

"want a piece?" you asked, anxiously trying to change the subject, raising the bag of fried chicken in your hands. you shook it lightly to emphasize. "i have a feeling we're gonna be stuck here for a while, and it's still warm."

he raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something a little playful. “don’t mind if i do.”

he moved closer, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed, and you set the bag down in front of you both. “dig in,” you said gesturing with your hands toward the chicken.

“so… you’re a doctor…” you said after a couple minutes of eating in silence.

“last time i checked, yeah,” he replied, glancing over at you with a faint smile.

“so why’d you move into this shabby building with elevators that haven’t been serviced since the stone age?” you asked, pausing to tear into a chicken wing with zero grace or subtlety.

he stared at you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your question or the feral way in which you were eating.

“i’m a resident, so i don’t make nearly as much as people think. plus, med school debt is no joke. this place fit the budget.”

“oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “sorry if that sounded kinda judgy. people tell me i’ve got a chronic case of big mouth syndrome.”

“it’s fine,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “at least you’re honest.”

“what about you?” he asked, tilting his head toward you.

“me? oh same story, different font. drowning in student debt, and this place was… available,” you said, popping another wing into your mouth.

he nodded, and after that, the conversation picked up, flowing so naturally you forgot you’d technically only been speaking to him for a week. before that you had only shared neighborly greetings in the hallway.

you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the elevator jolted suddenly, the lights flickering back on with a low, mechanical hum.

by then, the bag of chicken was empty, and you knew more about jaemin than you ever expected to learn in one night.

♡ ♡ ♡

“i thought elevators had some kind of emergency backup power for blackouts,” minnie said, her face pixelated on your phone screen.

“yeah but this building’s like 60 years old,” you muttered, adjusting the camera so she could see you better. you were sitting on the floor, painting your toenails a fresh shade of lavender. “the fact that it even has an elevator is a miracle.”

“true, true,” minnie nodded, chewing on a piece of candy. her eyes lit up suddenly. “by the way, why does your sexy doctor live there? i thought doctors were supposed to be loaded.” she propped her chin on her hand.

“he told me he just started his residency,” you explained, blowing gently on your freshly painted nails. “and he just started a new job at the hospital. they don’t get paid that well when they’re starting out.”

“hmm,” she hummed knowingly. “so you spend a few hours stuck in an elevator with him, and suddenly you’re an expert on the medical field, huh?”

you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “it’s called having a normal conversation, you should try it”

“i’m just saying,” minnie teased, tossing a gummy bear into her mouth. “you went in there hiding from him, and you ended up sharing chicken and life stories. i see you.”

“there is nothing to see,” you shot back, tossing a pillow at your phone screen like she could actually feel it.

“mm-hmm,” she hummed, leaning forward “so, did he mention it?”

“mention what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“the box,” she said ominously, dragging out the word like it belonged in a horror movie trailer.

you froze. “he tried to,” you admitted, tapping your fingers on the pillow in your lap. “but i shut him down real quick.”

“oho, look at you,” she said, leaning back impressed. “miss assertive, didn’t think you had it in you.”

“i have more pillows to throw, minnie. don’t test me.”

“yeah, yeah, violent tendencies aside,” she waved you off, completely immune to your threats. “i hope this new confidence means you’re finally putting my gifts to use.” she tilted her head with the most innocent smile, which made it all the more sinister.

your face went hot. so, so hot.

“i haven’t,” you lied, voice a little too high.

“liar,” she sang, leaning closer to the camera. “i can see your shifty eyes. you definitely tried it.”

“okay, fine, i did!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “but it was a disaster.”

minnie perked up with curiosity. “oh?”

“yeah, oh,” you repeated, scratching your head. “it just… didn’t hit. it felt weird and i got frustrated, so i just gave up. plus i don’t know where you got that vibrator from but it almost burned my girlypop”

“rookie mistake,” she sighed shaking her head dramatically. “that’s why you need someone with experience to help you out.”

your brows furrowed. “what are you even saying right now?”

“i’m saying,” she grinned like the devil himself, “that you have a perfectly qualified medical professional living right next door. i’m sure dr. mcdreamy wouldn’t mind giving you a consultation.”

you blinked once. “minnie, you’re actually sick in the head.”

“oh, please.” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “he’s hot, he’s single, and you’ve already done half the work. you were sitting there eating fried chicken, and you’re telling me he kept throwing compliments at you? we all know you eat chicken like a truck driver, and he still thought you were pretty. use your resources, babe.”

“he was hungry and stuck. he was probably grateful i offered him food. what else was he supposed to do?”

“it’s so much more than that,” she said, holding up a hand, a clear signal for you to shut up and pay attention. “i know when a man is laying the foundation and trust me, he’s building a whole mansion with your name on it.”

“you’re fully overreacting right now.”

one of minnie's strengths was that she wasn’t one to give up easily. but that also ended up being one of her flaws. you knew for a fact she wouldn’t drop this jaemin thing until she proved he had a thing for you.

“seriously, though,” she continued, leaning in so close her face was the whole screen. “he’s a doctor which means he’s like literally obligated to help people. it’s in the oath or something.”

“your point is..?”

“you know” she raised her brows suggestively “experienced hands, medical precision, and he owes you one for that chicken dinner. it’s the perfect setup.”

“you’re insane… like actually seek help.” you shook your head, trying to sound firm, but you were laughing too much to sell it.

“i’m serious,” she laughed along, “you literally blush whenever you talk about him. oh and you can’t even say his name without smiling.”

“that’s not true,” you said, shifting your position on the couch like that would somehow make your denial more convincing.

“mmhm,” she squinted her eyes, clearly not believing you.

“and for the record,” you added, jabbing your finger at the screen, “not every attractive man i meet is getting sexualized in my head. i’m not a beast.”

“no, you’re just a liar,” she shot back with a wide grin. “be real for like two seconds. i can see you smiling so hard right now.”

“you can’t see anything,” you said, voice sharper now. “it’s the pixelation. your wifi is ass.”

“nice try,” she said, drawing out the words. “i know a bashful grin when i see one.”

“you stress me out,” you muttered, twisting the cap back on your nail polish with a little too much force.

“and yet, you call me every day.” she propped her chin on her palm, smile pure menace.

“i guess i’m a masochist,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch. “tragic, really.”

“mmhm, tragic is right,” she said, eyes narrowing into little crescents. “because now i’m gonna be your maid of honor at this wedding i didn’t even prepare for.”

“goodbye, minnie,” you deadpanned, reaching for the end call button.

“goodbye, future mrs. mcdreamy.” she winked at the camera, and before you could curse her out, she hung up.

you sat there for a second, staring at your phone’s home screen, lips pressed tight.

delusional.

she was delusional.

but that didn’t stop you from thinking about jaemin’s stupid grin. the way he’d looked at you while eating fried chicken, casual but present, like he was really there in the moment with you. the way his eyes lingered, just for a second too long.

you shook your head, shoving the thought away like minnie’s words had wormed their way into your subconscious.

nope.

you capped the nail polish, shoved your phone aside, and focused on literally anything else.

♡ ♡ ♡

over the next few days, something shifted. not in a big, dramatic way but in a way you could feel.

jaemin wasn’t just the polite neighbor you exchanged pleasantries with in the hall anymore. now, every time you saw him, there was this unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air like: we shared fried chicken in a broken elevator for three hours.

this new attitude towards you was giving you whiplash. he was… extra friendly now. he smiled more, spoke to you first, acted like you were both in on some kind of inside joke. it wasn’t bad… but it wasn’t normal either.

“morning, y/n,” he’d say as you both waited for the elevator, eyes crinkling like he’d already thought of something funny.

“morning,” you’d reply, your gaze locked firmly on the floor. the tiles were suddenly fascinating.

but then you’d catch the faintest trace of his cologne—the same one you’d inhaled way too much of in the elevator—and suddenly, the tiles weren’t so interesting anymore. so you’d try to sneak a glance or two, and when he wore his doctor’s coat and glasses, you couldn’t help but ogle. he was so ridiculously handsome. everything about him practically begged for you to admire. his sharp jawline, his dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, his lips always pink and effortlessly moisturized, his hair neatly trimmed in the back but just a bit longer in the front, falling perfectly right above his thick brows.

and he had the most captivating smile, so white it almost blinded you, and despite thinking he was the serious type at first, you quickly realized he was incredibly expressive. he communicated so much with just his brows, and it seemed impossible for him to speak without a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. like what was so funny? that you were crushing hard on him and it was kind of disrupting your life?

he was also too relaxed around you. way too relaxed. how was he so calm when he’d seen you in your most unhinged states? meanwhile, you could still feel the ghost of that moment hovering over you like a neon sign flashing "dildo girl spotted."

the third time you ran into him that week, you almost turned around to take the stairs, but you weren’t fast enough.

“caught you,” jaemin said as soon as he spotted you, his grin sharp but not unkind. “thinking of bailing on me?”

you paused like you were actually considering it. “don’t flatter yourself,” you said, walking forward like you’d planned to all along. “the stairs are just bad for my knees.”

“oh, is that right?” he asked, stepping aside with a sweep of his hand. "good thing elevators exist, huh?”

“lucky me,” you muttered, slipping inside. he followed right after, too close for comfort but not close enough to call him out on it.

“lucky me,” he added, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, head tilted just so. "would’ve missed you otherwise."

you had to bite back the cough that almost escaped when he said that, his lazy smile firmly in place like always.

you glanced at him, squinting. "what's with you lately?"

“what do you mean?”

“this,” you gestured at him vaguely. “all this… talking. you weren’t like this before.”

“maybe i just needed an excuse,” he said with a nonchalant shrug “and three hours in an elevator with you was a pretty good one.”

you blinked, momentarily at a loss. what were you even supposed to say to that?

“did you rehearse that?,” you muttered, turning away before he could see the corner of your mouth twitch.

“why, is it too corny? but you’re smiling,” he pointed out, you could hear his smile.

“no, i’m not.”

“you are,” he said confidently, leaning in just a little like he was trying to see it up close. “it’s cute.”

you flinched back, eyes wide. “don’t say that.”

“why not?” he grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “it’s true.”

“oh my god.” you turned so far away from him it was a miracle you didn’t phase through the wall. “stop talking.”

“can’t,” he said, all too happy to keep going. “we’re closer now. shared chicken trauma and all that.”

“that is not a thing.”

“it is,” he nodded confidently. “you can’t just sit in a powerless elevator with someone for hours and pretend you’re strangers afterward. that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”

“scientifically impossible?” you repeated, eyebrows raised. “you’re making things up.”

“and here you are listening to all of it,” he shot back, tilting his head toward you, his gaze a little too sharp.

checkmate.

you opened your mouth, ready to respond, but your brain was buffering..

"that’s what i thought," he said, his voice low and too satisfied, just as the elevator dinged.

the doors opened. he didn’t move right away, gaze lingering on you as if he was waiting for something…or maybe just seeing how long you’d hold it.

“you talk too much,” you muttered, stepping out with your head high like you had the upper hand.

“I think you like it,” he called after you, the amusement in his voice so obvious you could practically hear the grin on his face.

your heart did that annoying skip thing, and this time, you didn’t have an excuse for it.

♡ ♡ ♡

things only got worse after that.

jaemin, apparently, had decided that you were fun to mess with now.

he wasn’t over-the-top about it, though. no, he was too smooth for that. he played it cool, weaving little comments and actions into your interactions. a smile that lingered too long, leaning in just a little too close when he asked a question, throwing casual compliments like they didn’t mean anything.

it was unfair, really. he’d gone from the quiet, polite neighbor, the one who worked long shifts at the hospital and mostly kept to himself, to an actual menace in the span of three days. and somehow, you were the target of all of it.

the first time it happened, you brushed it off as coincidence. the second time, you thought maybe he was just being nice because you shared food with him so perhaps he thought that he owed you. by the third time, you realized: this man was having fun at your expense.

“new hair?” he asked casually one evening as you struggled with your keys outside your door.

you froze, glancing up at him in confusion. “what?”

“your hair,” he repeated, nodding toward you. “looks good.”

your brows furrowed. “it’s the same as always,” you muttered, turning back to the lock that was absolutely refusing to cooperate.

“huh.” he tilted his head, as if he were genuinely surprised. “then i guess it’s just you.”

what does that even mean?!

your hands fumbled, and the key slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor.

jaemin’s laugh was soft but unmistakably amused. “you okay there?”

“don’t you have patients to save or something?” you snapped, crouching down to snatch the key off the ground before he even had the chance to get it for you.

“off duty,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall next to you. his smile had that easy confidence you were beginning to associate with him now. “but i’ll step in if you need medical attention. emotional support counts too.”

you groaned so loud it echoed in the hallway. “i swear, i liked you better when you were quiet.”

“oh, you like me?” he asked, his grin widening just enough to make your stomach flip in protest.

“past tense,” you shot back, finally shoving the key into the lock and turning it with more force than necessary.

“if you say so,” he replied, drawing out the word like he didn’t believe you for a second.

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, turning around with your key in hand, gripping it like a weapon. “how do you live with yourself?”

“one day at a time,” he replied, dead serious.

you shot him a glare as you finally shoved the key into the lock. it turned smoothly this time.

“maybe you should try it,” he added, just as you opened the door.

“try what?” you asked, already regretting engaging.

“living with me,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. he even had the audacity to wink.

you nearly slammed the door in his face.

“goodnight, jaemin,” you snapped, stepping inside.

“sweet dreams, love,” he called after you, his voice warm and smug in a way that lingered.

you closed the door, locked it, and leaned your head against it with a groan that could only be described as deep emotional fatigue.

“then i guess it’s just you.”

you stayed pressed against the door for a little too long, thinking about it.

he’s the worst.

the absolute worst.

♡ ♡ ♡

then came the visiting.

you heard a quiet, rhythmic knock knock knock on your door one night. not frantic, not loud just steady enough to make you pause in the middle of scrolling through your phone.

you frowned. minnie wasn’t the “surprise visit” type, and you definitely hadn’t ordered food. so who…

when you opened the door, he was right there.

jaemin.

he leaned against the doorframe, one arm propped against it, the other tucked into his pocket. his posture was relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with that familiar glint of mischief.

“what do you want?” you asked, gripping the door like it was a shield between you and whatever ridiculousness he was about to say.

“so rude,” he said, mock-offended, though the lazy grin on his face betrayed him. “you invite a guy to share fried chicken once, and suddenly you’re heartless?”

“oh, please.” you stepped back slightly, but you didn’t close the door. “i offered it. don’t act like i saved you from a tragic famine.”

“true,” he agreed, his gaze dropping for a split second, flickering over you like he was trying to catch you off guard. “but since you brought it up, i was thinking about how we never got dessert.”

you blinked, thrown off by the randomness. “what?”

“dessert,” he repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “fried chicken’s great and all, but it’s not a complete meal. we missed out.”

“and what, you came to my door at 9 pm to tell me that?”

“yep.” he rocked back on his heels, completely unbothered. “i figured you owed me by now.”

“owed you?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “for what, exactly?”

“emotional support,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “that elevator ride? life-changing experience. bonded for life. it’s only fair you buy me dessert.”

you tried to fight it. you really did. but the laugh slipped out anyway, betraying you.

his grin widened, the kind that wasn’t just smug… it was triumphant.

“fine,” you sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter. “but you’re paying next time.”

“next time?” he echoed, his voice tilting upward just slightly. he leaned forward, close enough that the space between you suddenly felt smaller. “so you’re already planning our next elevator date?”

oh, this man.

“don’t push your luck,” you muttered, pointing a finger at him while you tapped through your food delivery app. “i might close the door on your face next time.”

“you like me too much to do that,” he said softly, and this time his tone wasn’t teasing.

it was smooth, confident, and just low enough to make you glance up without thinking.

your thumb hovered over your screen for a second too long before you forced yourself to break eye contact. you picked the first dessert you saw just to escape the moment and right before you got to pay he snatched the phone from you and put in his card details.

“so annoying,” you muttered.

“gentlemanly,” he replied easily.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to throw you out,” you shot back, already regretting how much you were letting him get away with.

“lucky?” he asked, smirking. “i’d say you’re the lucky one. who else brings dessert and great company?”

you groaned, loudly, just to drown him out.

♡ ♡ ♡

thirty minutes later, you were sitting side by side on your couch, barely an inch between you, sharing a container of chocolate lava cake like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“don’t hog it,” you grumbled, jabbing at his hand with your spoon when he took an extra-large bite.

“it’s called portion control,” he argued, entirely unapologetic as he went for another.

“it’s called stealing,” you shot back, scooping up a bigger piece just to even the playing field.

“maybe,” he said, glancing at you with that maddening grin. “but you’re letting me get away with it.”

“only because i don’t want to waste food,” you countered, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have.

he leaned back slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that felt too casual to be an accident.

“you’re really bad at lying, you know that?” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make you pause.

you turned to glare at him, spoon still in hand, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you.

he wasn’t grinning anymore. not exactly.

it wasn’t a smirk or a joke or one of those teasing little quips he always threw your way. it was… softer. almost curious.

your heart stuttered before you could stop it.

“and you’re annoying,” you said again, but this time it came out quieter.

his lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.

“you already said that but i think it loses meaning when you let me hang out with you for this long,” he murmured.

you didn’t reply. you couldn’t. not when the air felt so… different.

so instead, you turned back to the TV, grabbed another spoonful of lava cake, and shoved it into your mouth as an excuse to not say anything.

he chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the TV.

♡ ♡ ♡

the next few days went by pretty much the same. whenever you bumped into jaemin in the hallway, the parking lot, or even at the local cafe, his eyes would lock on you like a heat-seeking missile, ready to tease you in a way that you hated to admit was starting to feel oddly enjoyable.

but everything escalated the day minnie came to visit you.

it had been a while since you two last saw each other, given that she lived in a different city. as soon as she arrived, you were buzzing with excitement. but you’d forgotten one crucial thing… minnie had a rare, borderline supernatural ability to drive you absolutely insane.

“i can't believe you had a second chicken date with him and still didn’t jump his bones… have i taught you nothing?” she said, exasperated as she popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth. dawson’s creek reruns were playing in the background, and as if that show didn’t depress you enough, minnie’s relentless criticism of your non-existent love life was making it worse.

“it wasn’t a chicken date,” you groaned. “we had cake. and why would i jump his bones when we’ve only just started speaking more than two words to each other like, last week?”

“you don’t get it,” minnie said, turning to face you with the gravity of someone about to lecture you. “a man doesn’t just knock on your door asking you to have dessert with him unless he has a different idea of what 'dessert' is.” she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“ew, don’t make that face,” you winced.

“i’m serious, y/n. if you keep shutting down every man that’s interested in you, the only dick you’ll get is that inflatable one i got you.”

“not even,” you sighed, slumping against the couch. “i haven’t taken it out of the box yet. and i won’t. that thing already embarrassed me enough for the next two lifetimes.”

“but if you think about it, if it weren’t for tom, you’d still be secretly crushing on dr. mcdreamy.”

“you did not just name the sex doll tom,” you said, eyes narrowing.

“i think we should at least go out tonight since you’re clearly not gonna put the moves on your sexy neighbor.”

“absolutely not,” you shook your head, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “ i’m not about to waste my night talking to any guy who thinks 'intellectual debate' means arguing about protein powder.”

“okay, harsh… no wonder you’re single,” she muttered as she got up and started tapping away on her phone.

“who’re you calling?” you asked, squinting at her suspiciously.

“there’s only one person who can drag you out of this apartment,” she muttered with a sly grin. "hold on—hello? jake? yeah, guess who i’m with right now?" she paused dramatically, glancing at you with a wicked smile. "your favorite girl, obviously!" she snickered, tilting her phone just enough to snap a photo of you mid-protest.

“dude, c’mon, i’m in my grandma pjs right now,” you said, pointing at the flowery pajama top you were wearing.

“how about we meet up at the neo club? yeah? awesome, and bring one of your hot friends,” she added, grinning like a cat that just cornered a bird.

she hung up, looking triumphant, but you folded your arms with a scowl.

“there’s no way i’m going out,” you said flatly.

♡ ♡ ♡

you still ended up going out.

but only because they offered to pay for all your drinks, and who were you to refuse such a generous offer?

it didn’t take long to spot jake. he was already stirring up trouble at the bar, his charm dialed up to 100 as he leaned in close, tossing out some line that had the bartender blushing so hard she had to look away just to keep it together.

“ugh, casanovas make me sick,” you grumbled, scrunching your nose as you watched him.

“stop harassing the lady, jake,” minnie said, grabbing him by the collar and tugging him away from the bar. he turned around with a mock-offended gasp.

“excuse you, she was absolutely enjoying that,” he said with an infuriating level of confidence. he wasn’t even wrong—the bartender was still grinning.

“whatever, tiger. look who’s out of her cave!” minnie announced, shoving you forward slightly.

jake’s eyes lit up the second he saw you. he practically lunged forward, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

“no way! my y/n! it’s been, what, four years since i last saw you?” he spun you in a small circle before finally setting you down.

“please don’t be so dramatic. we saw each other last year on your birthday,” you laughed, shoving his chest.

“too long for me, babe. you know seeing you is always a treat,” he said, giving you one of those overly saccharine smiles he knew would make you roll your eyes.

“when are you ever not flirting? is that your default mode? is there any way to reset you?” you said, tapping his forehead like you were trying to reboot a broken phone.

“you know you love it,” he winked, and somehow it was both annoying and charming at the same time.

“anyways, where are the drinks i was promised?” you extended a hand expectantly.

“here you go, princess,” he said, handing you a tequila sunrise with a flourish. “and here you go, troll,” he added, handing minnie a margarita.

“i’ll kill you,” minnie slapped his arm hard enough to make him flinch.

“ow, abuse! abuse!” he cried dramatically, clutching his arm as if he’d been mortally wounded.

“you’ll live,” minnie muttered, taking a sip from her glass.

the night was already off to a wild start, and you had a sinking feeling it was only going to get worse.

♡ ♡ ♡

“so you’re telling me the box with all the freaky shit minnie sent ended up being delivered to your neighbor?” jake was practically doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “and he opened it?”

“yeah, laugh it up,” you said, unamused as you swirled the straw in your drink before taking a long sip. you’d lost count of how many drinks you’d had, but the warmth in your chest and the slight buzz in your head told you it was definitely more than a couple.

“if i were you, i would’ve moved,” he said, wiping at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “i’m trying to think of a time i’ve been that embarrassed and not even my drunkest moments come close.” he shook his head like he genuinely felt bad for you, though the grin on his face said otherwise.

“believe me, i tried to avoid him,” you said, gesturing with your drink in hand. “but somehow, after that, he started sticking to me like gum on a shoe.”

“i’m telling you, he wants you!” minnie slurred, her eyes barely staying focused as she swayed slightly in her seat. clearly, she was the drunkest one at the table, her words carrying that telltale wobble of too many cocktails.

“don’t start with that again,” you shot back, tossing a napkin in her direction. “he doesn’t want me. he just likes messing with me because he figured out i’m an easy target.”

“oh, really?” she said, eyes narrowing like she’d just come up with the most brilliant plan. “then call him right now. and if he answers, put him on speaker.”

“like hell i will,” you snorted, glancing at your phone. “it’s-” you checked the time “…literally 3am. why would i disturb him just to prove your silly little theories?”

“coward! coward!” minnie started chanting, slapping the table. jake immediately caught on and joined her, their voices syncing up in a way that only drunk friends could manage. “coward! y/n is a chicken!” they sang in unison, making sure to drag out the last word obnoxiously.

“ugh, why do i have friends like you two…” you muttered, covering your ears as their chanting grew louder. “okay! fine! stop that right now, i’ll text him. once.” you jabbed a finger in the air for emphasis, giving them both a stern glare that did absolutely nothing to dim their excitement.

“what do i even say…” you groaned, staring at your empty chat with jaemin.

“send him a picture,” jake suggested.

you thought about it for a second, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “fine,” you muttered, lifting your phone. fueled by alcohol and peer pressure, you decided on the classic "oops, wrong person" strategy. you snapped a quick selfie, pursing your lips into a kissy face for maximum effect. you didn’t even care that it was blurry or that you looked very obviously drunk. in fact, that made it funnier. you snickered to yourself as you hit send.

“he won’t reply, guys,” you said confidently, tossing your phone onto the table face-down. but barely ten seconds passed before you heard the unmistakable ping of a new message.

“you were saying?” minnie arched a brow, crossing her arms in mock satisfaction.

“it’s probably just some random notification,” you said with a shrug, but your voice wavered as you picked up your phone. you tapped the screen, eyes widening slightly at the name that appeared.

jaemin neighbor (3:02am): ‘thought you weren’t one to party hard?’

the message was punctuated with a little smirk emoji that somehow made it worse.

“what’d he say?” minnie asked, leaning in so far you thought she might topple over.

you barely had time to answer before another message popped up.

jaemin neighbor (3:03am): ‘don’t drink too much though, you’re still recovering from that cold. and don’t let strangers hold your drink.’

your eyes stayed glued to the screen, heart doing an odd little flip that you refused to acknowledge.

“oh my god, he’s worried,” minnie gasped, hands flying to her face. “he’s literally whipped!” she squealed, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you back and forth with unhinged glee.

♡ ♡ ♡

after seeing jaemin's message, you decided you needed to get drunker to drown out the thoughts swirling in your head. by the time you got back to the apartment, your uber driver had to practically haul you out of the car. you were a complete mess, your feet barely cooperating with the ground beneath you. minnie ended up hitting it off with jake’s friend so she decided to leave with him to do god knows what dirty things.

“woah there!” you yelped as you stumbled, nearly falling backward.

“ma’am, what’s your apartment number?” the driver asked. all you could do was laugh and mumble some random string of numbers that didn’t come close to making sense.

“y/n?” a familiar voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharp and clear like a bell. it almost sobered you up on the spot. he was wearing his scrubs and his tired appearance told you that he was coming back from a long shift.

“mr. doctor is here!” you announced with unrestrained glee, throwing your arms up. the sudden movement made you lose balance, and you tilted sideways bumping into the driver.

“you know her, sir?” he asked, his forehead shiny with sweat, clearly desperate for an exit out of this.

“uhm, yeah, she’s my next-door neighbor. i’ll take it from here, thanks,” jaemin said, stepping in with the calm authority of someone who’s seen this exact scenario a dozen times before. with zero effort, he crouched down and hoisted you onto his back, his hands steady under your thighs to keep you secure.

“wheee!” you squealed, your cheek smushed against the back of his head.

“hold on tight, yeah?” he muttered, his tone dry but fond as he adjusted his grip on your legs.

inside the elevator, you got bold. maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was just you accepting your undeniable attraction to jaemin, but your hands found their way to his arms. you gave his biceps an experimental squeeze and then hummed, thoroughly impressed. “do all doctors got big, muscular arms or just you?” you asked, squeezing again as if conducting a very important scientific investigation.

jaemin’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. “do you always get this touchy when you’re drunk?” he replied, shifting you slightly higher on his back.

“oh wow, you smell so good,” you said, burying your nose in his hair. “like… like one of those fancy candles you’re not supposed to light cause they’re too expensive.” you giggled against his head, completely oblivious to the way his ears flushed pink at the compliment.

“i told you not to drink too much,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “this is dangerous, you know.”

“sorryyyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the word. “but you know what they say about alcohol… uh, ‘wine before whiskey, you’re feelin’ frisky’?” you squinted, clearly thinking very hard.

jaemin tilted his head, giving you a side-eye full of disbelief and amusement. “that’s absolutely not the saying,” he said, his voice low and warm with a hint of laughter.

“no?” you pouted. “then it’s… ‘drinks before thoughts, memories get lost!’” you declared with absolute confidence.

he let out a full, genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking under you as he carried you down the hallway. “close enough,” he muttered.

♡ ♡ ♡

in front of your door, you squinted at the digital lock like it had personally wronged you. you pressed one button, then another, and frowned when the screen blinked angrily. your brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and trying to remember your code right was harder than trying to solve a riddle while underwater.

“ugh, whatever,” you groaned, letting out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the floor, legs sprawled out.

“what are you doing?” jaemin's voice came from above, and when you tilted your head back, you saw him crouched in front of you, eyebrows raised.

“can’t remember the code, so m’ sleeping here. duh,” you replied with the kind of lazy confidence and lack of urgency only drunk people have. you reached out and booped him on the nose simply because he looked cute like a bunny in your inebriated mind.

he blinked, clearly thrown, before a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “no, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head. he stood up, offering his hand. “come on.”

“ugh, fiiine,” you groaned, letting him pull you up, though you were basically dead weight. he slipped an arm around your waist to steady you, and the warmth of his hand pressed against the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. the touch was casual but it sent a sharp jolt of awareness through you.

you bit your lip to distract yourself from the sudden rush of heat. blame it on the alcohol. definitely the alcohol.

“i never sleep in a guy’s apartment ‘til…” you held up your hand and started counting on your fingers, lips moving as you mumbled to yourself. “like the 6th date.”

“that so?” jaemin glanced at you, his voice raspy in a way that made something flip in your stomach.

“mmhm,” you hummed, leaning your weight against him. “gotta have rules, y’know? safety first.”

“you’re not wrong,” he replied, guiding you toward his door with slow, careful steps. “but that logic’s got a flaw, don’t you think?”

you squinted up at him, skeptical. “what flaw?”

“you’re here with me, and we’re not even on date three,” he said simply, giving you a pointed look.

you tried to ignore the fact that he considered the elevator and that night at your apartment as dates.

“that’s different,” you countered, waving a hand like that somehow made you right.

he glanced down at you, eyes sharp but soft in the way they flickered across your face. “how?”

you blinked, suddenly too aware of the space between you two — or the lack of it. his arm was firm around your waist, and you could feel the rise and fall of his breathing.

“you tell me, doc,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

there was a brief silence, just the quiet hum of the hallway lights and the soft shuffle of your feet. his fingers curled slightly against your hip, the pressure grounding but gentle. when he spoke again, his tone had shifted — quieter, steadier.

“i’d never do anything to hurt you,” he said, voice sure like a promise. his eyes met yours, serious in a way that knocked the air right out of your lungs.

you didn’t have a quick comeback for that one.

he held your gaze for a moment longer before clearing his throat, eyes flicking away. “anyway,” he said, his voice back to its usual steady calm, “you can sit for a bit. i’ll get you some tea and food, sober you up.”

“huh?” you blinked, your tipsy mind still trying to catch up after that intense moment you just shared.

“sit,” he repeated, guiding you toward the couch like you were a stubborn cat. “tea. food. you’ll thank me later.”

you flopped onto the couch with zero grace, still buzzing from everything.

your head was throbbing, but that wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the rapid thumping of your heart against your chest. it wasn’t normal. it couldn’t be normal. you pressed a hand to your chest like that might somehow slow it down.

“what is this…” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back against the couch.

you were spiraling, no doubt about it. overthinking everything. it’s just jaemin, you reminded yourself. your neighbor. your kind neighbor. of course he’d say stuff like that. he’s a good person, and good people say things like "i’d never hurt you" all the time, right? it didn’t mean anything. didn’t mean a single thing.

calm down, y/n.

you blew out a slow breath, trying to trick your heart into believing you were unbothered.

jaemin came back moments later, a cup of tea in one hand and a small plate of buttered toast in the other. he’d ditched his jacket, now in just a fitted black t-shirt and scrub pants. you weren’t sure what was more distracting… the way the fabric clung to his chest and arms, or the way the veins in his forearms stood out as he set the plate down. you stared a little too long, gaze following the flex of his muscles.

he’s just a guy, you thought, just a guy with arms that look like they were carved out of marble.

“okay, drink this,” he said, nudging the tea toward you. his voice had slipped into his "doctor tone", soft but firm, like he fully expected to be obeyed. “you’ll feel better. if you feel dizzy or like you’re gonna throw up, let me know. i’ll go shower real quick, and you can shower after.”

he disappeared into his room before you could respond

you sat there for a second, letting the silence settle around you. without him there, you finally took a proper look at his place. it was weirdly nice for a building as old and shabby as this one. sleek, modern furniture, spotless floors, a faint scent of something woodsy and clean. candles lined the windowsill, and he had an at-home gym tucked neatly in one corner.

of course he does, you thought, he’s probably too busy saving lives to hit a real gym.

you bit your lip, remembering the way his arms had felt around your waist. the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of your shirt. and now, after seeing how built he actually was, it was starting to make a lot more sense.

“ugh, stop it,” you muttered, shaking your head. it was just the alcohol messing with you. that, and the fact that you were definitely ovulating because there was no way you’d be acting like this otherwise. the combination was lethal.

you reached for the tea, eager for something to snap you out of your head, but the second you took a sip—

“ah—!” you yelped, dropping the cup. hot liquid splashed onto the floor, the mug clattering after it. thankfully, it missed your legs but your tongue throbbed like you’d just bitten into molten lava.

“shit,” you hissed, sticking your tongue out like that might cool it down.

“what happened?” jaemin’s voice came from the bathroom, sharp with concern.

“‘s fine!” you tried to call back, but with your tongue still stinging, it came out garbled. “ihz ohkaay!”

the sound of the shower stopped. you barely had a second to panic before jaemin burst into the living room, dripping wet, a loose towel slung dangerously low on his hips.

you froze.

oh.

oh my god.

if this were an anime, you’d have shot out a nosebleed so powerful it’d blast you into another dimension.

“what happened?” he asked, eyes darting to the mess on the floor, then back to you. he crouched beside you, eyes scanning you likely looking for injuries. water dripped from his hair, trailing down the sharp planes of his face, his chest, his abs…

his abs.

your gaze locked on the V-line that dipped beneath the edge of his towel, and your brain short-circuited. every coherent thought you’d ever had dissolved on the spot. you didn’t even realize you’d spoken aloud until you heard your own voice.

“oh my god.”

jaemin blinked, eyebrows drawing together in worry. “what?”

“n-nothing!” you stammered, face heating faster than the tea had. you slapped a hand over your eyes like that might erase the image from your mind. it did not. it was burned in.

he frowned, his puppy-dog concern on full display. “i’m sorry, i should’ve warned you the tea was hot.” his gaze shifted to your tongue, still sticking out as you tried to cool it with air. his frown deepened.

“izzokay,” you said, or at least tried to. with your tongue swollen and numb, it sounded more like “iz okeh, iz my fauwt.”

“hold on,” he said, his tone dropping into doctor mode. “stay put. you might cut yourself on the glass.”

he moved with quick precision, ducking into the kitchen and coming back with a towel and some paper towels to clean up. you, unfortunately, had nothing to do but sit there and watch him. and watch him you did.

the way his muscles shifted under his skin with every movement. the flex of his back, the dip of his hips, the subtle pull of his abs as he crouched to pick up shards of glass. you sat there like a fool, cheeks blazing, unable to look away.

he could model for anatomy textbooks, you thought, completely mesmerized. like, imagine turning to page 47 and seeing this man labeled as "muscular system: front view."

every part of him moved with that annoying grace certain people just had. the kind of grace that was only possible when you were stupidly, unfairly attractive.

he wiped the floor clean and tossed the paper towels aside, giving one final glance at the spot to make sure there wasn’t a single shard left behind. then he turned to you.

“all clear,” he said, standing to his full height. the towel on his hips slipped slightly lower, and your gaze shot to the ceiling so fast you almost got whiplash.

“thanks,” you muttered, trying to keep your eyes anywhere but there. you still saw it in your peripheral vision.

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “you sure you’re okay?”

am i okay? absolutely not. your tongue was burnt, your pride was in pieces, and your brain was playing a slow-motion highlight reel of his abs. you were the furthest thing from okay.

“yep,” you croaked, voice cracking at the end.

“here you go,” he said, handing you a glass of cold water. “it should help your tongue.”

“thanks,” you mumbled, cradling the glass with both hands. you refused to look directly at him, eyes darting everywhere in the room. the slow drip of condensation on the glass suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.

“are you hot? you’re sweating,” he asked, leaning forward, his gaze landing on you with that soft concern he wore too easily.

you nearly spat the water back out. of course you were hot. this whole situation was hot. the room was hot. he was hot.

“it’s fine,” you blurted, shaking your head a little too quickly. “i’ll just shower.”

“yeah, sure. go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “bathroom’s the door on the left.”

he glanced down at you, eyes flickering over your dress just briefly. instinctively, you tugged at the hem like that would magically make it longer. you should’ve known minnie was setting you up when she called this look “casually dangerous.”

“your clothes…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “they don’t look super comfortable to sleep in, so if you want, i can lend you something.”

there was no reason for your heart to leap into your throat the way it did. it was a normal offer. a completely normal, helpful offer. but your brain decided to be weird about it. suddenly, you were picturing yourself in one of his shirts, fabric hanging loose on you, the scent of detergent and him faintly clinging to it. god, you needed help.

“okay,” you said, trying to sound normal, but it came out too fast.

“i’ll grab them for you,” he said, already heading toward his room.

as soon as he disappeared, you collapsed against the couch, exhaling hard like you’d just survived a boss fight. you dragged your hands down your face, letting out a muffled groan.

“pull it together,” you hissed at yourself.

walking into the bathroom didn’t help. the warmth hit you instantly, soft steam curling in the air. it smelled like aftershave and clean skin, and if there was a single coherent thought left in your brain, it got drowned out by the sensory overload.

“seriously?” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back with a groan. “what am i, thirteen?”

the mirror was fogged up, so you wiped at it with your sleeve, only to be faced with your own reflection staring back at you like girl, really? you pressed your hands to your cheeks, feeling the warmth that had nothing to do with the steam.

“i’m normal,” you announced firmly to no one but yourself.

except you weren’t, and you knew it. it wasn’t just the alcohol making your brain short-circuit anymore. you were sober now, and this was just you being ridiculous. the neatly folded clothes on the counter didn’t help. a plain white shirt and a pair of sweatpants sat there, fresh and clean.

you eyed the sweatpants, then glanced down at your legs, already knowing how this was gonna play out. still, you gave it a shot, pulling them up your legs after taking a (very) long shower. unsurprisingly, they swallowed you whole, the cuffs dragging behind you. yeah, no. you’d trip over yourself in less than a minute. sighing, you snatched up the shirt instead and pulled it over your head. it slipped down past your hips, the sleeves flopping well past your hands, turning them into little paw-like stubs.

“this will have to do,” you decided with a sharp nod to yourself.

when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, jaemin was lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone. his gaze flickered up at you, and for a split second, he just blinked, eyes tracking down your frame before quickly darting back to his phone.

“where are the pants?” he asked, lips quirking up just slightly at the corner.

“too big,” you said.

“hmm” he hummed, looking up and letting his gaze drag just a little slower this time, eyes sharp with mischief. his tongue pressed against his cheek, a lopsided grin threatening to break free. “i see”

if your heart was pounding before, it was in full percussion solo mode now. but you just flopped down beside him, acting like everything was cool, like you weren’t hyperaware of every inch of bare skin peeking out from under the too-big shirt.

you glanced at the clock on the wall — 4:30 a.m. blinked back at you in dim red light. too late to be awake but too early to call it morning. your eyes shifted to jaemin, and you could see the weight of exhaustion hanging on him. his blinks were slower, his body slouched deeper into the couch cushions.

“jaem…” the nickname slipped out without warning, soft but certain. his eyes lifted to you immediately.

“you can go to sleep. i’m fine,” you said with a small smile, hoping it was convincing. “and… thank you. for everything. you’re too nice to me.”

his gaze lingered on you, steady and unguarded, like he was committing you to memory. then, his lips curved slowly into a smile. not his usual teasing grin but something gentler, sweeter. it hit you square in the chest, and you had to physically fight the urge to lean forward and kiss him.

you did not win that fight.

instead, you moved on instinct… leaning in and wrapping your arms around him. the moment you did, you panicked. it felt stiff, clumsy, like you’d misread the whole situation. you were just about to pull away when his arms slid around your waist, slow but sure.

he pulled you in, pulled you all the way in, until you were practically draped over him. your breath caught in your throat, heart thudding so hard you swore he could feel it.

his head dipped down, face tucked into the curve of your neck. the warmth of his breath hit your skin in soft bursts, and his hold on you tightened just a little more.

“it’s my pleasure,” he murmured, voice low and raspier than it had been all night. his lips brushed against your collarbone as he spoke, “always.”

good god, you nearly let out a sound you’d never be able to live down. every nerve in your body was on high alert. it had been so long since you’d been held like this.

his nose nudged against your neck lazily. you felt the butterflies in your stomach riot, wings frantic against your ribs.

“jaem…” you said, but it came out too soft, too breathless to sound like an actual warning.

“you smell good,” he muttered, voice all sleep and satisfaction. “you always smell good.” he breathed you in.

lord, have mercy.

“i think we should both sleep,” you murmured, but neither of you moved. neither of you even thought about moving.

“yeah,” he said, voice low and uneven.

“yeah,” you echoed, but it sounded less like agreement and more like an excuse for staying right where you were.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, but his arms stayed firmly around your waist. his eyes flickered down to your lips. on reflex, you wet them with a quick swipe of your tongue, suddenly self-conscious. his gaze darkened and you swore you felt the shift in the air.

“stop me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but stopping him didn’t even cross your mind. not when he was looking at you like that. not when his face inched closer, closer…

his lips met yours softly at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide. you decided quickly. your hands slipped into his hair, pulling him in as you kissed him back with everything you’d been holding in all night.

he responded instantly. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place, deepening the kiss until it wasn’t soft anymore.

his other hand found your hip, gripping you firmly as he shifted you on top of him, his touch guiding you like he knew exactly where he wanted you to be. dangerous. this was so, so dangerous.

because you were only wearing that stupidly oversized shirt and the flimsy scrap of underwear underneath it. and when you settled fully onto his lap, you felt everything.

he must’ve felt it too, because his breath stuttered, and a needy groan escaped him, muffled against your lips. you felt it vibrate through your whole body, made you shiver as if he’d pressed his mouth to your spine instead.

his hand on your hip squeezed, fingers digging in just a little harder.

the kiss grew messier, wetter, breaths and tongues tangled together in a way that felt far past the point of no return. it didn’t help that his other hand left your neck, sliding down, fingertips trailing along your side before slipping under the hem of the shirt.

his hand slid up and up until…

he froze the second he realized. his palm pressed against bare skin, no bra, no barrier. you felt his breath hitch at the same moment you heard it.

“fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, his voice rougher now, heavier. his fingers spread wide, covering as much skin as he could reach, his palm warm and steady against your ribs.

and when his thumb brushed up, grazing just barely under the curve of your breast, the sound you made was far too needy. his gaze flicked back up to yours. like he was asking. like he was giving you one last out.

you didn’t take it.

his hand moved again, bolder this time. his palm slid over the curve of your breast, warm and firm, fingers curling around it as if it belonged to him. you sighed at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as your head tipped forward. it wasn’t enough. you didn’t know what “enough” would be, but it wasn’t this.

he must’ve felt it too, because his other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles. he tilted your face up, and for a moment, you thought he’d kiss you again. you tilted toward him, lips parting, but he had other plans.

instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips just beneath your ear. the warmth of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could even process that, he was moving lower. he kissed his way along your neck, slow and steady, with the kind of patience that made your heart feel like it was on a countdown.

and then the kisses changed. his teeth grazed your skin, his lips sealed over the spot, and he sucked hard enough to make you gasp. your hands flew up, gripping at his shoulders as he trailed love bites down to your collarbones, marking you in a way that felt possessive, the kind you’d see after he was gone.

“jaemin,” you whispered, your fingers digging into his shirt. his name barely sounded like a name anymore.

his only answer was a low hum against your collarbone, his hand still working under your shirt. his fingers traced lazy lines along the sensitive skin beneath your breast, and just when you thought he was going to stay gentle, he pinched your nipple between his fingers.

you gasped sharply, hips jolting forward on reflex. “oh—”

he didn’t stop. he rolled it slowly between his fingers, feeling out every little reaction you gave him, every twitch and shiver. your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, and the way he smiled against your neck told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

instinct took over before you could think it through. your hips rocked forward against his lap — once, twice — chasing relief from the ache that had been building low in your stomach for too long. you felt the slickness between your thighs, hot and damp, soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear and seeping onto his sweatpants.

he felt it too. you knew he did from the sharp intake of breath he took, from the way his hands squeezed tighter his fingers digging into your hip, his other hand cupping your breast with just a little more pressure.

“fuck,” he groaned, head falling forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. his hips shifted beneath you, his arousal impossible to miss now. he was hard, and every roll of your hips dragged against him perfectly, making him curse under his breath.

the heat of it all was unbearable, and you had no one to blame but yourself. but at this point, did it even matter?

he lifted his head, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded. his gaze flickered from your face to where your hips met his lap, his tongue darting out to wet his lips

“i don't know how much longer i can hold back…” his voice was strained.

you blinked down at him, heart thudding hard against your ribs. every nerve in your body felt like it had been lit on fire, but somehow, you still managed to smile.

“who told you to hold back?”you said, voice soft but sure.

“shit…” he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, guiding them down against him with a deliberate pressure that had your breath hitching in your throat.

it wasn’t just you moving anymore. he was moving you, rocking you back and forth against him faster, tired of pretending you weren’t both desperate for it.

your head tipped back as a broken moan spilled from your lips. the friction was too good, just the right amount of pressure to have your thighs trembling. the heat between you had gone from warm to blistering, every grind making you more sensitive, more aware of the damp mess you were both making between his sweatpants and your underwear.

his eyes locked on you, not wanting to miss a single second of it… the arch of your back, the part of your lips, the way your breath caught every time you sank down a little harder.

“look at you,” he breathed, voice rough and half-laughing. “getting this worked up over a little humping”

you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “i’m clearly not the only one,” you shot back breathlessly..

his lips were back on you in an instant, rougher than before, all teeth and tongue. his hands slid up your back, under his shirt you were wearing, fingers dragging against bare skin. his nails scratched lightly at your spine, sending chills down your whole body, and you gasped into his mouth.

he didn’t let you pull away. his lips chased yours, like he’d been starving for this, like now that he’d had a taste, there was no way he was stopping. he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and your body moved on instinct, hips rolling harder against him.

“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, head falling back against the couch as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. his hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tight as if to ground himself, but all it did was spur you on.

you leaned forward, trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, biting just enough to feel him shudder beneath you. his pulse was wild under your lips, and when you grazed your teeth against it, his hips bucked up so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs.

“you’re making it so hard to be soft right now,” he said through gritted teeth, head tipped back, neck bared for you like an invitation. his eyes flicked down to where you sat on him, where the line between you two had blurred so badly it didn’t seem to exist anymore.

“then don’t be,” you whispered against his ear, biting down on the lobe just to hear him curse again. “nobody asked you to be soft.”

that was all it took. his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with purpose. his next move was fast—you were on your back before you could register it, his body hovering over you, his weight pressing you down in a way that made your heart race in your chest.

his eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his face. he looked like a mess and it was perfect.

“say that again,” he said, voice nothing but gravel and breath. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart, the slow drag of his touch enough to make you squirm. “say it again so i know you mean it.”

your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and you reached up, fingers threading through his hair.

“nobody,” you whispered, tugging his head down just enough to make sure he heard you, “asked you to be soft.”

for a second, he didn’t move. just stared down at you like he’d never wanted anything more in his life than to eat you up.

then he leaned in, and when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t soft or tentative or testing the waters. it was raw, hungry, and so deep it knocked the air out of you. his hands moved with purpose, sliding up your thighs, pushing his shirt higher and higher until the air hit bare skin.

everything was heat and pressure and need. he was all you could feel, all you could hear — his breath heavy and uneven, his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew.

and when he finally pressed his forehead to yours, eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting to hold himself together, you knew you’d both already lost.

the next thing you know, his hands are tugging your shirt up and over your head, the fabric barely brushing past your arms before it’s gone. the cold air hits your skin for half a second before jaemin’s mouth replaces it, hot and relentless as he traces the curve of your collarbone, his lips dragging lower, slower.

when his mouth finally closes around your right breast, it’s warm and wet and just enough to have you mewling. his tongue flicks over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just lightly, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight down to your core.

his free hand slides lower, fingers trailing down your stomach, over your hip, and slipping beneath the waistband of your lace underwear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he moves without hesitation, fingers seeking out the slick mess waiting for him, and the second he finds it, he lets out a low, rough groan against your skin.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters, pulling off your breast with a slick pop, his breath fanning across your skin. he glances down between your legs, his gaze so heavy you feel it like a touch. his eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like he’s hungry just looking at you.

he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, dragging them down in one slow pull, eyes locked on you like he’s scared to blink and miss it. the fabric barely makes it past your knee before he’s already looking back up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips parted with the kind of need that makes your chest feel too tight.

“let me eat you out,” he says, and his voice is rough and desperate.

you bite your lip like you’re thinking it over, but you know you’re going to say yes. you just like seeing him like this — all unsteady and breathless, too far gone to hide it.

“please,” he says again, this time more ragged, his voice cracking at the end like he might actually lose it if you make him wait any longer.

“okay,” you say, and it’s all he needs.

he’s on you in a heartbeat, sliding down your body so fast it’s dizzying. his hands are firm on your thighs, pulling them apart, spreading you wide until there’s nowhere left to hide. his gaze flicks up one last time, meeting yours like he’s checking, like he’s giving you one last chance to stop him.

but you don’t. you won’t.

he presses his fingers to your folds, parting you slowly, exposing everything to him, and the breath he takes is deep, like he’s savoring the moment before the fall.

then he leans in.

his nose brushes against you first, just a soft nudge that has your hips twitching on instinct. then his tongue follows in one long, slow drag from bottom to top that has your breath stuttering in your chest. his grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your skin like he’s steadying himself as much as you.

he moans against you, a deep, satisfied sound that you feel as much as hear, and his tongue dives back in, licking at you like you’re his favorite thing to taste. the movements are slow at first, deliberate, his tongue exploring every part of you like he’s trying to figure out exactly what makes you fall apart.

and you are falling apart.

your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as you let out a shaky, breathless moan. your hips twitch up, and his hands are right there to hold you down, keeping you still as his tongue moves with more certainty, more purpose, licking you with long, messy strokes that make you gasp.

his mouth doesn’t slow, if anything, it grows more determined. his tongue moves with precision now, circling that sensitive spot before flicking against it in quick, teasing bursts that have your hips jumping despite his firm grip.

“fuck, jaem—” your voice breaks on his name, your hands gripping the sides of the couch, searching for something, anything to ground yourself. but there’s nothing. nothing but him, his mouth, the obscene, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat building low in your stomach.

he groans again, the vibration shooting through you, his tongue flattening against you before he drags it up,

“taste so sweet,” he murmurs into you, his voice muffled, every word spoken straight into your skin.

“could stay here all night.”

the heat in your belly twists tighter at that, something about the way he says it, like he means it, like he’d ruin himself for this… for you. you’re already too close, and he knows it. he can feel it in the way your thighs tense, in the way your breath catches and your hips press up into him like you’re chasing something you can’t quite reach.

he hums in satisfaction, his lips wrapping around that sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just once, just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“god, jaem, i’m—” you don’t even finish the sentence before it hits you, crashing over you in waves so intense you forget how to breathe. you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth falling open on a silent cry as the pleasure hits you all at once, white-hot and overwhelming. he doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking against you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body.

your fingers find his hair, tugging hard, half to ground yourself and half to make him stop because it’s all too much. he groans at the pull, but it only seems to spur him on, his hands tightening on your hips, keeping you pressed against his mouth.

“jaemin,” you say it firmer this time, tugging again, and finally, finally he pulls back, his lips and chin shiny with evidence of what he’s done.

“couldn’t help myself,” he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth like he’s savoring every last bit of you. his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, his hair a mess from where you tugged at it.

“you look so pretty when you cum,” he says, voice low and husky, and you hate the way your heart lurches in your chest as if he’s just said something sweet.

“you’re crazy,” you mutter, still catching your breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

“crazy for you,” he fires back, grin widening like he knows how corny it is and says it anyway.

and for some reason, it makes you laugh. a soft, breathy thing you can’t hold back.

in one smooth motion, he’s crawling back up your body, his hands framing your face as he settles his weight over you. his lips press to yours, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. reminding you exactly where that mouth has just been. you taste yourself on him, and it sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

“not done with you yet,” he says against your lips, his hips pressing down against yours, and fuck, you feel how hard he is, the thick, solid pressure pressing right where you need it.

“then don’t stop,” your fingers slide down his back, nails scraping lightly.

he flashed a wicked grin, and before you could process it, you let out a startled squeal as he hoisted you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. his arms were firm around your legs, his shoulder pressing into your stomach, and you could feel the strength in every stride as he carried you from the living room to his bedroom.

"jaemin!" you protested, your fists lightly tapping his back, but it only made him chuckle.

"keep squirming, baby. see where that gets you," he teased.

he laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. the cool, fresh scent of his sheets surrounded you, soft fabric meeting warm skin. it was a fleeting comfort, though. you both knew they wouldn’t stay this neat for long.

jaemin peeled off his shirt with one smooth motion, revealing the sharp lines of his chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. you bit your lip as he kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. his gaze was locked on you, dark eyes brimming with heat and amusement, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

you watched mesmerized as he pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fingers searching until they found a small foil packet. he ripped it open with practiced ease, and when the condom rolled out into his palm, your eyes widened.

"that’s not the right size," you blurted out, half-laughing. "no way."

his eyebrows lifted, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "oh? wanna bet?"

then his boxers hit the floor.

oh.

your breath caught in your throat as your eyes dropped, taking in the sight of his dick. heat flooded your face. what the hell.

“close your mouth, baby,” he said, smirking. “unless you’re planning to put it to use.”

"shut up," you muttered, glancing away, cheeks blazing. "are you gonna do it or not?"

“do what?” he asked innocently, even as he climbed onto the bed, caging you in with his body. he hovered just above you, his grin infuriatingly smug.

“you know what.”

“hmm. don’t think i do,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your lips. “wanna say it for me, pretty girl?”

you pressed your lips together, heart thudding in your chest harder every second. you could feel the weight of him, his warmth, the tension that hung in the air like a live wire.

“fuck… me, jaem,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “louder, baby. i know you can be louder.”

he wasn’t wrong. flashes of earlier moments filled your mind, the way you were moaning and whimpering definitely wasn’t quiet. you swallowed the last bit of your hesitation.

“fuck me. please.”

he hummed, satisfied, his grin softening as he hooked his hands behind your knees and tugged you down toward him. you let out a quiet gasp, suddenly flat on your back, with him positioned directly above you. his body hovered just close enough that every shift of movement made you feel him.

your eyes flickered up to his face, and for a second, he wasn’t teasing anymore. his gaze was steady, searching, his eyes dark but kind. he reached out, fingertips tracing your jawline with such tenderness it made you ache in a different way.

“you okay, baby?” he asked softly, letting you know he’d stop everything if you said no.

your heart swelled at the care in his voice.

you nodded, fingers curling around his shoulders.

he leaned in, close enough for his breath to fan across your face. “need words, love.”

“i’m okay, jaem,” you said more firmly, gazing up at him.

his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer before he nodded. he took a pillow and carefully placed it behind your lower back

"good girl," he murmured.

he shifted, his hands steady on your hips, grounding you as he lined himself up. the anticipation coiled tightly in your stomach, a nervous, thrilling buzz. you felt him prodding at your entrance, he swiped his tip up and down, the action made you clench in anticipation. he eased in, inch by inch, the stretch stealing every ounce of air from your lungs.

his head dropped, forehead pressed against yours, jaw tense as his eyes squeezed shut. a soft curse left his lips. “fuck, so… so tight,” he groaned, his voice wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still.

the moans spilling from your lips mixed with his name, coming out soft and unrestrained. every inch of him felt like too much, the kind of stretch that made your breath catch and your nails press into his shoulders. it had been so long since you'd had sex that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like, and even back then, no one had ever filled you like this. jaemin was thicker, longer, and the difference was impossible to ignore.

"baby, if you keep squeezing me like that…" he laughed breathlessly, his fingers drawing slow, steady circles on your hip like he was trying to soothe you. “i might not make it all the way in.”

“s’rry, you’re… just too big,” you muttered, voice coming out more wrecked than you intended.

he bit down on his lip, eyes flicking down to where you were connected. the sight alone was about to undo him. "yeah?" he breathed, a little too satisfied with himself. his hand slid up, fingers pressing into your waist just a bit harder, grounding you in place as he pushed in deeper.

the pressure was overwhelming, every slow inch making you feel like you might fall apart right there beneath him. and the deeper he went, the more you swore you wouldn’t last long. the tight, aching pull in your stomach was already coiling up, twisting tighter with every second.

“you okay?” his voice was softer this time, the restraint obvious in how still he stayed once he’d finally bottomed out. his forehead pressed lightly to yours, lips hovering just close enough to brush your skin.

“mhm,” you nodded quickly, legs shaking around him.

“words, baby,” he said, and his fingers tilted your chin so you’d look at him.

“i’m okay, jaem. just…just move, please,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

"since you asked so nicely," he said with a grin that was all teeth and trouble. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling them higher against his sides. his hips pulled back, just enough for you to feel every inch of him drag out slowly, before he pushed back in.

the breath punched out of you. you didn’t even have time to recover before he was doing it again, sharper, testing just how much you could handle.

"god, you’re taking me so well, princess," he groaned, eyes flicking down to where your bodies connected. his hands slid up your sides, the warmth of his touch a sharp contrast to the way he was slamming into you. "like you were made for me."

“jaem-” his name was the only thing you could manage, high-pitched and broken. your head tipped back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, but that only made everything feel sharper.

“what's that?” he asked, voice rough as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. "love it this much, huh?"

you didn’t answer, didn’t need to. he could hear it in every shaky breath, feel it in the way your body reacted to him.

his mouth was on yours a second later, messy and hot, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip before his tongue slid past it. he didn’t kiss you so much as claim you, taking everything you gave and then some. your fingers knotted in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to. the sounds between you were wet, frantic, each one making the coil in your stomach twist tighter.

you were close… so, so close.

but then he pulled away again, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. before you could even think to complain, he grabbed your hips, flipping you over like it was nothing. your cheek pressed into the pillow, hips lifted, and you barely had a second to brace yourself before he was back inside you.

the first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. it was deeper now, sharper, because he’d found a whole new spot to ruin you from. your fingers dug into the pillow, muffling the sounds spilling from your mouth, but even that wasn’t enough. the angle had you seeing stars, the kind of pressure that made your legs shake with every thrust.

“feel that?” his voice was right at your ear, low and rough. “feels different, doesn’t it?”

you nodded frantically, too gone to answer, but that wasn’t good enough for him. his hand slipped up, tangling in your hair, gently tugging you up just enough so he could hear you.

“talk to me, baby.” his voice was a rasp now, barely hanging on. "tell me how it feels."

“s’good…so good, jaem,” you gasped, words rushed and jumbled but still clear enough. "i’m- i’m gonna…”

“go ahead, baby," he said, lips brushing against your ear before he bit down softly on your earlobe, making you jolt. "want you to cum for me."

your whole body shuddered as the release crashed into you, slow and unrelenting, like a wave that just wouldn’t let up. it didn’t hit and fade away like usual — it lingered, making your muscles seize and tremble with every pulse. you felt boneless, your limbs heavy as you sagged against the bed, head turned to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow. jaemin stayed inside you, his grip on your hips loosening just slightly but his eyes stayed locked on you, dark and intent. you could feel him watching every little twitch of your body.

“look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “so pretty like this.”

he eased out of you slowly, and the emptiness that followed had you sucking in a sharp breath. your thighs shook as you tried to press them together, but his were still on you, thumb brushing softly along your inner thighs admiring how your cum slid down your dripping core.

you glanced down, lips parting at the sight. his cock was flushed, standing firm against his stomach, the condom showing nothing but a hint of precum mixed with the mess you’d left behind. a slow heat pooled in your belly again, your body already responding before your mind could catch up.

“you didn’t—” you started, but the words dissolved in your throat, eyes flickering back up to meet his.

you didn’t wait for him to say anything. your hand shot out, fingers curling around his wrist, and you tugged him forward. he followed easily, letting you pull him in close, his lips already parting like he was expecting a kiss. but just as he leaned in, you braced a hand on his chest and shoved him down flat on his back.

“oh?” he breathed out a soft, surprised laugh, his eyes widening as his head hit the pillow. “what’s this, huh?”

“shh,” you muttered, climbing over him, one leg swinging over his hips until you were straddling him. your palms flattened on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your hands.

“bossy now, are we?” his grin stretched wider, his hands sliding up your thighs with a slow, deliberate touch. he squeezed just above your knees, fingertips pressing into your skin.

“quiet,” you said leaning forward, your breath warm against his ear. “thought you’d like a girl who takes charge.”

his head tipped back with a breathy laugh. “oh, i do,” he said, voice trailing off into a low hum as his eyes dipped to where your hips hovered just above him. “but i like it even more when she can keep up.”

the corner of your mouth tugged up into a grin. “we’ll see,” you muttered, reaching between your bodies to wrap your hand around him. he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his whole body going rigid beneath you. even with just the faintest pressure of your hand, you could feel him twitch, his hips bucking up slightly.

“s-sensitive,” he hissed, jaw tightening as he pressed his head back into the pillow. but he didn’t stop you, didn’t even try. if anything, his fingers dug harder into your thighs, holding you steady like he was afraid you’d pull away.

“thought you could keep up,” you shot back, glancing up at him. his brows furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before they flickered back open. the teasing look on his face was gone now, replaced with something hungrier, more focused.

you lined him up with you, heart thudding hard against your ribs. you’d done this before, but it felt different now… the weight of his eyes on you, the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. the stretch was slow, inch by inch until you felt him fill you completely.

“f-f—” his curse broke off into a low groan, his chest rising sharply as his hands slid up to your waist. “god, you’re—” he didn’t finish. couldn’t finish. his eyes screwed shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard you thought he might draw blood.

you braced your hands on his chest, fingers curling just slightly as you adjusted to the feeling. the heat in your core burned brighter, the ache of it twisting into something sharper, more desperate. you shifted your hips just a little, testing it, and the friction hit you so perfectly you gasped, nails digging into his chest.

“you okay?” his voice was strained, barely more than a whisper, but there was a thread of concern woven through it. his eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded but focused on you.

“mhm,” you nodded, breathless as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him slide out before sinking back down just as slow. his head tipped back, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a low groan rattling from his chest.

“yeah, just like that,” he muttered, his grip on you loosening as he let you set the pace. “take your time, pretty girl.” his words slurred just a little, as if he wasn’t fully in control of them anymore. “feels so…” his breath hitched, head tilting back against the pillow.

his hands never stopped moving, though. they roamed up your waist, across your ribs until they found your boobs, they played there for a minute before sliding down to grip your thighs again. every time you dropped your hips, you watched the way his face twisted — brows pulling together, lips parting, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. his fingers twitched, his grip faltering like he wanted to touch you everywhere at once.

“harder,” he breathed, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. his eyes flicked up to yours, gaze locked, lips parted and shiny with spit. “don’t hold back.”

you bit your lip, grinning through the burn in your legs as you shifted your pace and started going faster. the sound of it echoed in the room and you felt the warmth building low in your belly again, tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips.

“y-yeah, just like that,” he gasped, voice cracking, his eyes fluttering shut again. he pressed his head back, the veins on his neck on full display, and you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every uneven breath. his hands slid to your hips, guiding you in sync with his shallow thrusts upward. the movement was messy, desperate, his body seeking more even as he tried to hold on.

“gonna—” he bit out, breath hitching sharply. his eyes flew open, wild and unfocused as he stared at you like he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say. “gonna— oh, fuck—”

“yeah?” you gasped, leaning forward, your hands braced against his chest, fingers curling into his skin. “feels good, hm?”

he didn’t answer with words. he answered with his body, hips snapping up to meet yours, his fingers dragging down your back, hard enough to leave little streaks of heat in their wake. his breathing grew choppy, his body locking up beneath you as his grip on your waist turned bruising.

“don’t stop,” he panted, his voice rough, broken. “don’t— oh, fuck.”

you didn’t. not until you felt every last bit of him give in. his whole body went taut, muscles straining beneath you, his grip locking you in place as he let himself go. he groaned so deeply it sounded more like a growl, his breath hot against your neck as he pulled you down to him, holding you close.

“what’s the verdict, doctor?” you asked, tracing circles on his chest, still sat on top of him.

“hm,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, lips tugging up at the corners as if he was fighting off a grin. “patient shows signs of extreme confidence. possible cause: being too good at driving me crazy.”

you snorted, tilting your head to look at him. “is that your professional diagnosis?”

“oh, absolutely,” he said, cracking one eye open to meet yours. “might need to run some more tests, though. you know, for accuracy.”

“yeah?” you leaned in, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “what kind of tests, doctor?”

his hands slid up your back, fingers splayed wide as they pressed you closer. “thorough ones,” he muttered, his voice rasping against your ear. “real hands-on approach.”

“sounds serious,” you teased, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. “hope your credentials check out.”

“i’m overqualified, baby,” he breathed, tipping his head back against the pillow with a lazy grin. “let me show you.”

part two

my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic!! thank you<3

#nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct imagines #nct smut #nct dream fic #nct jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin x you #jaemin x reader #jaemin moodboard #jaemin imagine #jaemin fic #jaemin smut #jaemin fanfic #jaemin #nct dream smut #nct fanfic #nct #nct dream x you

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angelsforthenight · 1 month ago

Text

screen babe, mean babe, guess who’s gonna cream babe!

camgirl!vi x reader (part 1) pt 2 here!

summary: you spend every night in the safe confines of your room hopelessly jerking off to your favourite camgirl, PinkSage. but what happens when your family is providing accommodation to the same damn woman in your house for the summer?

cw: mdni, long fic, pornstar!vi, bratty sub!vi, switch!reader, vi’s name is revealed later in the fic, parasocial, delusional and obsessed reader 😭, cursing, bitchy!reader, bitchy!vi, voice fixation, vi has nipple piercings, nipple play, licking & spitting, use of dildo, embarrassing moments be aware….

a secret. you had a secret. and no, not one of those teensy-weensy mediocre secrets such as you still wet the bed or that you steal from pharmacies — this one is big… or at least it feels big.

each and every night, whenever the clock hits eleven, you find yourself sitting on your bed: cursor hovering over www.butchbabes.com - a website you had frequently, frequently visited before. you click on your following and patiently wait for your favourite camgirl to start streaming, who’s always on time.

PinkSage is a muscular woman who never dares show her face on camera, concealed with a leather cat mask that takes up half of her face. what may come across as bothersome, is enjoyable to you and her many other viewers instead. the fact that you’re not able to see her is what adds to the thrill, the mystery. it’s all a massive tease, and you can’t even count the amount of times you’ve came to her, at one point even damaging your computer because you squirted all over the keyboard!

unfortunately, you live in a world where women are chastised for their desires. easily stigmatised, unlike their male counterparts: where it is normalised for men to be perverted. while a man is just a man for getting off on watching women getting beaten, slapped and choked, women are revolting creatures for masturbating to even the tamest of pornography.

fear crawls up your spine at the thought of anyone finding out that what you masturbate to are masculine camgirls, or at least one camgirl in particular. as a result, you go out of your way to feign complete innocence to the outside world. as far as anybody else knows, you’re a uni girl focused on her studies; nothing more, nothing less. behind closed curtains, however, it’s nobody else’s business that you beseech filthy pleads underneath your breath as you’re close to reaching your climax — as if PinkSage could hear you through the screen. that you anticipate pay-check day, not to spend the money responsibly but instead using it all to gift her; your heart spiking in your chest whenever she’d personally call you out.

“always treating me so good your_user, love you.” she’d say, her voice lilted in a sultry drawl: quiet yet faintly cooing. you hang onto every single word, brandishing them in your head so it lingers for days and days. ‘always’. PinkSage recognises you as being a frequent gifter. you’re so happy, as if you won the goddamn lottery.

you’re obsessed, tremendously obsessed.

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hence, here you are: 10.59 on the clock as you constantly refresh her page to see if she’s on live yet. clock strikes eleven and you see big glowing red letters flashing ‘ON LIVE.’ your stomach flutters in excitement, a feeling you never tire of, and your fingers rapidly fly to click it.

there she is, in all her glory, wearing a tight dark tank top and playboy boxer briefs. the leather cat mask sits comfortably over her eyes as always. you gush at the sight of her. she’s pretty close to the camera, hand hovering over the mouse as she watches all the viewers and comments gallop in like it’s a stampede. her plush lips crackle into a grin, flaunting those perfect teeth. teeth you want nothing more than to suck on. and those fucking fingers?? you’ve never wanted anything stuffed in your mouth more.

“hey guys.” comparable to warm honey: satiny and velvety. you could drown in her voice. “missed me?”

and here goes the comments,

lezout69: YES WE MISSED UUU

tipsyflower: God I was waiting all day

m4niacan0nymous: can you show us ur feet

dykeyfamgirl: today felt long as hell I’m so happy to see you ;—;

orchidstar_: I missed u pinksageeee

girlongirlfanman: Start playing with your nipples now

bluesage111: IMS O FUCKING EXCITED HOLYSHIT IM

they all pop in at the same time. you, however, don’t comment anything, because you know that she’s going to respond with:

“fucking hell you guys need to relax… you saw me last night. freaks.” she snickers. it’s an ongoing bit that PinkSage makes fun of her viewers. audiences always eat it up: they like the idea of being degraded by her, humiliated. you? maybe on certain days. most of the time, you’re not so sure. why make fun of people that gift and pay to watch you all the time? it always rubbed you the wrong way, but because you worship PinkSage like she’s an angel, you choose to not dwell on it too much. after all, some things are for some, other things are for others.

“can you flex your muscles…” PinkSage reads. your heart does a backflip at the sound of the amused chuckle that follows right after. you’ve always admired how much fun she has doing her streams.

“fine. i’ll even do something extra.” she reaches for something on her desk, which culminates in her moving even closer to the camera; pierced nipples hidden underneath her tight top being paraded for everyone to watch. your tongue fleetingly swipes across your bottom lip, an unconscious movement that you find yourself doing each time she does subtle teasing movements like these.

she comes back with pink satin ribbon. “this is for the coquette bitches i see in my comments.”

she curls up her arm, wrapping the ribbon into a sweet little bow around her bicep. she then flexes her arm hard, making the flimsy ribbon tear apart in mere seconds. the comments go crazy.

wiccanyindigo8: OH MY FUCKING GOD???

sullenlambgirl: CAN SHE DO THIS TO ME PLSSSSS

tipsyflower: FUCKCKKCKCK

girlongirlfanman: Nah that shit was fake I swear

angelsforthenight: LMFAOOOOIWANTYOUTOFUCKMESOBADOOOOO

bluesage111: my neck next plz !!!!!!!!!!

m4niacan0nymous: yeayea can you show us ur feet now

abracadabragagafan27: I’m cumming🤤🤤

dykeyfamgirl: SHSJDKDJDNAK

bluesage111: @girlongirlfanman stfu

sweetdazekid: P U S S Y I N B I O 👅🥵💦

you have fun reading the comments, as it’s always a goddamn story; entertaining as hell. these people cannot be real. you have the hypocritical habit of differentiating yourself from these desperate swines, as if you’re not secretly worse.

and of course, PinkSage is already gifted a generous amount from a handful of viewers for that move and that move alone. you’re happy for her, so much so that you’re smiling with her. yes, you’re heavily parasocial, but do you care? no!

“should we move onto the real deal now?” she coos, leaning back on her desk chair and mindlessly swinging it from side to side. she has a flair for wrapping everyone around her finger: amassing almost a million subscribers. there’s six hundred thousand people watching her stream right now. she’s like a mother bird about to feed her children, having all the little baby birds screech and strain for a sliver of attention.

“been so fucking frustrated all day, i need this…” she mutters, her breathing palpably growing heavier as she lifts up her top above the swell of her breasts. you most likely have her boobs memorised in your head, but every time she reveals them it’s like you’re seeing them for the first time. pink buds with metal shoved in between. fucking euphoric.

she catches one between the pad of her thumb and forefinger, slowly rolling it, the tip of her finger rubbing the edges of it too. low groans do not fail to leave her lips immediately. they’re so sensitive that she’s visibly twitching. one of the gifts tell her to flick her nipple and she does what she’s told, a little ‘ooh’ weaselling out of her. without hesitation, the flood gates of your pussy open up, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. you’re only going to touch yourself when she starts to touch herself.

for now, she showers attention on the other nipple; her needy noises growing stronger. you imagine how wet she must be right now, teasing herself like this for the sake of pleasing her viewers. poor thing. your undying empathy for her is why you’re willing to ignore how drenched your panties are, refusing your touch yourself until she starts to pleasure her cunt.

“fuck, i’m so wet.” she whines. her voice always starts off low, but the more desperate she gets, the higher it becomes. the sexiest thing in the world. the tip of her nails are dragging down her deliciously toned stomach, slowly slipping underneath her waistband. you lean back, wriggling comfortably against your pillows as you mirror her actions. despite PinkSage basically having no idea who you are, you’ve always felt so intimate masturbating with her, going along with her pace. in a strange way, it feels like you know her.

you can see her knuckles protruding from her boxers, stroking her clit in tight circles underneath.

tipsyflower: she’s alwaysssss teasing us i swear 😩

the familiar gift noise pings through, a sound of coins jingling.

abracadabragagafan27: (GIFTED PINKSAGE $5.99!) Take the underwear off!

“your wish is my command, baby.” PinkSage twinkles, making a show of slowly pulling her boxers off, inch by excruciating inch. her pink happy trail (yes, the curtains do match the drapes, duh) marshal into the beautiful alcove of her mound, her bush glistening from how soaked she is. she resumes her movements, slender fingers slipping inside her pussy with ease. her knuckles flex as she goes deeper and deeper inside, her jaw slack and eyebrows furrowed.

all this and you know she isn’t actually going to cum. she’s merely stretching herself out for the actual real deal. you’ve always thought on why PinkSage appeals to you so much… maybe it’s the fact that she conceals her face, so there’s that uninterrupted enigma and that you’ll probably never know what she looks like. a cruel tease.

or maybe it’s the fact that in a world where butches and muscular women are expected to be dominant and rough, PinkSage has no problem exhibiting herself as someone who leans more onto the submissive side: pliant and self-abasing, whilst simultaneously being mean and not taking anybody’s shit. in a way, it feels revolutionary. PinkSage stands out, and that’s why she’s currently at number one in your trusty ButchBabes website, and why you refuse to watch anyone else.

“i’ll let you filthy bitches pick for me, okay?” despite her catty language, her face is flushed and her chest is heaving. she did just edge herself after all, and in tandem, so did you. she reaches for something below her desk and pulls out two toys. a pink vibrator wand and a clear glass seven inch dildo — each in one hand. she waves them, a smug grin settled on her lips.

“vibrator?” she playfully licks a stripe up the wand, “or dildo?” she does the same, her tongue dragging across the shaft. she knows exactly what she’s doing, she always does. every movement is coordinated: done on purpose to elicit reactions from her audience.

you’re too lost in the haze of your lust to reach for the keyboard, so you merely watch as the majority of the viewers pick the dildo. you couldn’t care less on which one they picked, as long as you got to watch PinkSage pleasure herself.

“good choice.” she praises, throwing the wand away and leaning back in her seat, spreading her legs and giving the viewers an accessible view of her pretty pussy. she rubs the dildo down her slit, smearing her arousal. but she isn’t done: she brings the dildo up to her lips, dribbling spit down the model to lubricate it enough. your breath catches in your throat at the sight. you need to touch yourself, thighs trembling and squishing together, but you compel yourself to wait.

her breathing is palpable, loud and rapid enough to tell that she’s excited. sometimes you wonder if this is all an act, or if she genuinely forgets about the camera and pleasures herself without a care in the world.

she finally sinks the toy in, starting off with short and rapid strokes. the sounds of her sopping cunt are obscene: a drawled low moan leaving her lips as she tips her head back. “fuuuck.”

your own fingers start to move again, a strangled moan buried deep in your throat threatening to loom to the surface. PinkSage is just so perfect, her hips bucking and twitching; lower back arching as she starts to fuck herself with the dildo deeper. low groans quickly alter into high keens and destitute whines, her fingers flying to her nipple and pinching it to increase the stimulation. you curse under your breath at the smutty sight.

an idea suddenly zips through you and suddenly your fingers are out of your pants and on the keyboard. you’re gonna gift her. just as she’s about to cum, you’re gonna gift her and she’s going to orgasm thanking you. how fucking smart is that?

and luckily, the universe hears your wishes.

your_user: (GIFTED PINKSAGE $24.99!)

you settle back, fingers flying back to your pants as you bite your lip, waiting in anticipation for the loud jingling noise to catch her attention. and you’re blessed when it does.

“oh fuck!” she mewls louder at the sight of your gift, the dildo moving faster, “fuck, your_user, th—mmnfg—thank you so much, i’m cumming… fuck, your_user…”

with that, she keens loudly, head thrown back against the desk as she creams all over the toy. in tandem, you cum so hard you see stars. you cannot believe that happened. PinkSage huffs loudly, slowly pulling the dildo out. incomes the white pearly froth spilling down from her pussy and onto the seat. in your post orgasmic daze, you think you’re dreaming, but you dazedly watch the comment section and they prove otherwise.

dykeyfamgirl: wait i’m so jealous???

galadbdhs22: No fuckijf way

wiccanyindigo8: another hot orgasm yet againnnn

tipsyflower: I HAD NO IDEA SHE CAN DO THAT

bluesage111: i gotta try this next.

sallyfacefan: Will she give us another one? i need my name spilling from her lips

jerkheroff: THATS NOT FAIRRRRR

a dopey grin finds itself on your lips. everyone’s jealous. she said your user aloud — your name, mind you, whilst reaching her climax, but not theirs. you’ve been a fan for ages, you know she hasn’t done that with anyone else. you’re special and they’re not.

“no, i’m not giving you guys another. shoulda gotten there before your_user did.” your stomach flutters so hard you might as well float away. “thanks for watching, see you later filthies.” she puts her fingers in a rock and roll sign, her signature goodbye before logging off stream. you stare at the black screen with the white words reading ‘Live Ended’ for a long minute. dare this be the best night of your life?

you sleep extra well that night, replaying that moment in your head over and over again until it lulls you asleep, fantasising on what you would do if you two had ever met. if you had her right in your palm.

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the following morning, you awake with a smile adorning your lips. birds are singing outside, branches of the eucalyptus tree are rustling from the warm breeze. the sun is kissing your eyelids… besides, PinkSage literally orgasmed screaming your name last night. that’s your first pleasant thought of the morning; the way her face scrunched up, eyes half-lidded as she babbled your name. sure, it might’ve sounded like her words clustered together just as she was on the precipice of climaxing, but you alongside the rest of the 600K viewers heard it loud and clear. phenomenal. you almost hate yourself for not screen recording, but you don’t fret; sensing that it’s tucked in each and every crevice of your brain. shit, you’d inject the moment into your bloodstream if you could.

you yank your phone off your charger and take a look at social media. after mindlessly swiping through instagram stories and checking your tiktok notifications, your thumb glides over to twitter. your feed refreshes, and the first tweet is PinkSage’s.

PinkSage @PinkSagee420

hey guys going on hiatus for a bit </3 sorry no stream tonight and more nights to come :(( love y’all tho!

your face has never fallen faster. you sit up, blinking repeatedly and praying that your eyes are somehow proving you wrong. but no matter how hard you try, there it is: imprinted on your screen. going on a hiatus for a bit… love y’all tho! you furrow your brows. you bet she was smiling whilst typing that tweet. she so doesn’t give a fuck. what the hell are you meant to do now? was her hiatus so impromptu that she couldn’t have mentioned it on stream last night? instead of a half assed tweet? love y’all tho! ending the tweet like that is what grates on your nerves the most. if she really loved you, she wouldn’t go!

ugh. you quickly realise you’re being stupid and selfish, and you cringe at yourself. for fuck’s sake, PinkSage could be going through something serious and personal for all you know. you’re just freaking out because it’s the first time she’s ever taken a break. you’ve become so used to your nightly routine, so embedded in your grotty secret that you can’t help but feel as if you’ve been thrown off course. jesus, it feels like a break up.

your mind quickly diverges to solutions. PinkSage already posts some pretty smutty stuff on her Twitter, and then there’s the ButchBabes website — but you’d have to be a premium member to watch her pre-posted, long videos. as tempting as it sounds, having a subscription to a porn website just sounds… ew. you’re not that down bad. then again, there’s PinkSage’s patreon…

the sound of your door swinging open snaps you out of your thoughts, and you jerk your head up to see your dad resting his arms on your doorframe.

“morning. what’s with the long face?” he murmurs. you didn’t even notice your face was stuck in a frown since you read the tweet. “nothing. what’s up?”

“our guest is coming soon. earlier than expected, surprisingly. guess she’s eager to see us.” he smiles. she. at least it’s a woman this time, and one person. the last guests you had were a group of college boys, scruffy and loud and disrespectful, as if they were toddlers. they left your house a mess after!

that’s right, you’re a host family. offering a home and support to international/exchange students or volunteers. well, you don’t really do anything. whilst your parents offer them a bed to sleep in, give them meals and help them transport their way around your area, you do so much as smile at them, occasionally greeting them if you happened to bump into them. most of the time, however, you’re locked in your room. at some points you even wait until the living room is empty for you to go downstairs to eat. you’ve never been interested in making friends with your guests. they’re just there for a house, and you have enough friends.

“better get dressed.” your dad curtly pats the door before slipping away. you sigh, slumping back on your bed to wallow for just a little longer. you’re still very much bummed about PinkSage’s hiatus after all, and not even a female guest could lift your mood.

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you tip toe down the corridor, holding your breath as you try not to make a creak in the old floorboards. you peer down the staircase, straining your ears to hear the conversation taking place.

the guest is here, and she seems to be a goddamn comedian with the way she’s making your parents laugh. even your usually stony mother is dying laughing. just who is she?

you regret not getting ready earlier, because now you’ll have to awkwardly step downstairs, suffer through the silence before everyone’s attention will be on you. you steel yourself, slowly descending down the stairs. you predicted the pause in laughter and chatting before it even came.

“she’s alive!” dad says as you reveal yourself. how embarrassing! you want to flip him off, but you’d get killed.

“oh, is this your daughter? hey!”

your eyes flash up to the woman as quick as light. is— wait, are you tweaking? okay, maybe the PinkSage withdrawals are hitting faster than you think, because that voice and that hair…

“i’m violet, but you can call me vi.” she approaches you and extends her hand, those fingers. nah… no fucking way.

you realise you’re staring at her hand for too long when your mother clears her throat. “y/n…”

“sorry, aha.” you take her hand. she has a firm grip. you dare a glance at her face again. powdery blue eyes and a little amused smile. PinkSage smiles like that…

“she gets shy. oh, and you two are the same age actually!” your dad grins. you cut him a glare, wishing he could shut up. does he revel in your embarrassment?

“are you a student?” you find yourself asking. since when did you give a shit?

“nah, i’m volunteering. animal care.” vi replies, and she sounds very proud of herself. you nod quietly and smile, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“okay. if you don’t mind i’m going to do homework now, nice meeting you.” you mutter with haste, padding back up the stairs. your mother tries to call for you to come back, probably deeming you as disrespectful.

“it’s chill, ‘girls got homework to do.” you hear her say. she sounds so cool, so… suave. PinkSage would say something like that.

you immediately scrounge for your phone once back in your room, whipping out PinkSage’s profile to scrutinise her. there’s plenty of women with pink hair, and vi was wearing a navy oversized jumper, so you can’t even tell if she has the same muscles or not. but that voice… her voice. you zoom in on PinkSage’s hair. her way of styling it is very unique, and similar to vi’s. eerily similar. your heart starts to pound in your chest. what if…? you want to be aloof, in fact, you’re genuinely trying to prove yourself wrong. okay, you’ve fantasised about what you’d do if you met her, like, an innumerable amount of times… but they were fantasies for a reason! who was expecting for her to live in your house for whoever the fuck knows how long!?

your fingers are trembling, and you’re months down on her posts. it sure is a weird coincidence that PinkSage is on hiatus, and suddenly there’s a woman that sounds and maybe looks like her in your house! is this a sick joke? is the universe having fun?

a tentative knock that sounds nothing like the ones of your parents (they never fucking knock) scares the shit out of you, making you whip your head too quick and because your head was too close to the headboard, you banged against it.

“fuck! i-i mean, come in!” you frantically call out. vi is visibly holding in a laugh when she peers through the door.

“are you good?” oh my god, she heard that. your ears burn alongside the pain mingling through your head.

“yeah, i’m—i’m good. breezy.” you close your eyes and nod like a bobble head. what the fuck is breezy?

“…right. you probably already know this but i’m sleeping next door. i was wondering if it was cool if i use your bathroom? i wake up at night.” she smiles sheepishly. you blink at her.

“sure! yeah, that’s completely fine! it’s not even my bathroom per se, i mean my parents just say it’s my bathroom ‘cuz i keep all my stuff there and it’s right across my room and they use the downstairs one, but you’re… hah…” you’ve been rambling so much you’re out of breath! vi giggles. maybe she’s just a really good PinkSage impersonator. that could be it. yeah.

your eyes follow her nervously as she steps closer inside the room, gazing at your cork-board full of polaroid photos, calendars and photo booth strips. her fingers graze the cd player below it, and then she skims through the cds on your crate as if she’s in a music shop. she’s pretty comfortable touching your stuff without even asking…

“nice.” she whips her head to glance at you, staring at you up and down. you swallow.

“i thought you were doing homework.”

you brow settles in a furrow. “… i finished.” you lie through your teeth.

“do i make you uncomfortable or something?” the swift delivery of that question sweeps you off your feet, and you find yourself speechless.

“i would hate to make you feel that way. to be fair, i think i’d also hate people in my house.” she continues, as if this is all so casual. that i-don’t-give-a-fuck mindset is something you’re not so sure you’re rolling with.

“what? that’s— that’s not it.” you sputter, blinking repeatedly. vi smirks in return. “good, then.”

she turns around and leaves, whilst you sit there: dumbfounded. good, then? this vi girl sure is conceited, skimming her fingers over your stuff just to leave like that? what is this, a movie? and leaving your door open, no less! where’s the decency? you bet she was going to use your bathroom regardless if you had said yes or not.

you don’t want to think of vi as PinkSage. whilst the camgirl enacts cockiness as something sexy; playing it off well, this vi woman just comes off as arrogant. they’re different women, they must be. you open your phone to the post you left off at: one of PinkSage’s mirror pics, showing off her back tattoo. you linger on it, feeling like a housewife that’s had her husband leave for war. you miss her already.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you discreetly wait for vi to be finished with dinner so she can piss off to her room whilst you can eat without her amused gaze burning your retinas. as if your entire existence is funny to her. could you blame her? you’ve embarrassed yourself more times than you can say ‘i.’

it’s eleven. PinkSage would be streaming right now… but alas, she’s gone - not even specifying how long she’s away for. you feel a pang of sadness. you eat your food, watching a video essay in the empty living room. parents are sleeping by now, and vi’s upstairs. despite the faint sounds of your fork hitting the plate and the murmur of the youtube narrator, it’s really quiet. you wonder if vi is asleep by now too.

you pad back up the stairs after eating. vi’s door is open and you have to pass by her room to get to yours. a little peek on what she’s doing wouldn’t hurt would it? especially when she entered your room and touched your stuff without hesitation.

but as you fleetingly side-glance, your stomach churns in a way that makes you want to throw your dinner back up. you catch vi in the middle of putting her sports bra on, but it’s not even that: it’s what you see on her back, down to her triceps. the same fucking back tattoo. the same cogs, same plumes of steam, same machine parts… PinkSage. that’s Pink-goddamn-Sage, and you can’t even deny it anymore. evidence is all there: nobody else has a tattoo as specific as that one, nobody else styles their hair like she does, nobody else has that sensual ass voice: inviting and erotic. your favourite thing about her.

“holy mother of god.” you find yourself saying aloud, distractedly. vi yelps and whips around to glare at you.

“jesus, do you knock?” she huffs, grabbing her tank top and yanking it over her head.

“i… i know who you are.”

pt 2 now here!

a/n: very loosely inspired by this fic on ao3 so check it out! it’s been a while since i done a series omg!!! so excited for u guys to read this one ahhh >< i’m thinking of doing three or maybe four parts to this series.

#lesbian #vi arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #arcane smut #vi smut #vi x reader #vi x reader smut #smut #wlw fanfic #wlw ns/fw #arcane #vi x you #lesbian smut #wlw #vi x y/n #wlw smut #wlw fiction #vi x fem!reader

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