#I’m sorry artists…………. jm so sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

markresonates · 3 years ago

Text

ROCK ME

drummer of HEAVY METAL DREAMS the series ⊳

0:00 ⬤────────── 28:7k words

summary: When you're hired as the band's hair stylist and don’t fall for Jaemin's charm immediately, he takes a special interest in you, and makes it his mission to break you down and get you on your knees.

pairing: player!Jaemin x hair stylist fem!reader

genre: porn w plot, slow burn, angst, eventual heavy fluff bc i’m too soft

trope: rock star, bad boy, co-workers to lovers

a/n: yeeee sorry this is late & 6x longer than i originally said... also?!? hard dom Jaemin? did april fools day come early ??

warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (f&m), mirror sex, exhibitionism, manhandling, choking, restraints, lil corruption kink, brief p*ssy slapping, over stimulation, brief dollification, camera use, Jaemin kind of gaslighting y/n but not sexually, drinking, smoking & drugs, me pushing the JM big dick agenda, sweet hard dom Jaemin, super sub reader

Danger in a leather jacket waltzes into the salon, unannounced and expectant, just before the work day bleeds into night. The emerging rock star looks down at his phone, reading the directions Haechan provided before strolling down the aisle like he owns the place.

It’s almost closing time when he shows up, and after a long day of work, to say you’re a bit hungry would be a massive understatement. Although, within three seconds of spotting the new visitor, a craving for something other than food blooms in your stomach.

“Hi, I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, as if you didn’t recognize the musician standing a few feet away from you. He plops himself down in your salon chair, swiveling to face you and extending a polite hand. A mere three words have rolled off his silver tongue and yet you can already sense his flirt-ometer is dialed up to 12.

Everything about him screams trouble! with a capital T. The cheeky smile plastered on his devilishly handsome face, stylish black outfit that fits his lean body like a glove, blinding confidence that radiates off of his glowy skin, and swoon-worthy charm embedded into his DNA are all more than enough to make you weak in the knees. You’re not the first to react this way in his presence and you certainly will not be the last. He’s used to this response… actually, he expects this response.

Jaemin’s reputation precedes him.

Gossip travels fast in a beauty salon and whether it’s whispered behind the backs of hookups or recapped by the girls who have physically gotten to their knees for the bad boy. You have collected a dozen statements and the warnings that follow what is typically a one-night-only good time with him.

“He only thinks about music, getting high and getting his dick wet.”

“He’ll use you up and ghost you the next day.”

“He’s railed a girl backstage at every concert hall he’s performed in.”

So this begs the question… do you really want to become another conquest for the cocky musician to scratch off his “to-do” list?

Over the past few seasons, his band, Bad Dreams' popularity has soared through the roof. They recently signed with a new record label and there’s a rumor floating around that they’re preparing to release their second full length album soon. You have a sneaking suspicion that the fact that they’re shaking up their appearances, or more specifically, their hair styles, confirms that fan theory.

Their label routinely directs their artists to the upscale hair salon you work at. You have been here for six months and during your employment, you have seen plenty of musicians pass through the salon. But it was only two weeks ago that you first encountered an artist that left you downright starstruck.

It was late evening when the vocalist walked through the door. Your last client of the day had already left, and you were sweeping up the strands of hair scattered along the floor when one of Jaemin’s bandmates, Haechan, showed up without an appointment. There wasn’t a single stylist available at the time, and although you were basically on your way out the door, you stayed later to finish dying his hair because how could you not? It was Lee Haechan. The lead vocalist from your new favorite rock band that you'd seen in concert a few months ago when they opened for another band you liked. It felt surreal even being close to him, let alone touching him in some small way.

Haechan’s girlfriend accompanied him to the salon as well, not that you would’ve made a move on him or anything. Getting involved with an artist like him would be unprofessional and you have a strict policy against that sort of thing. You thought their banter was cute and couldn’t help but think they’re fortunate to have found someone that seemed so perfect for them. She teased him for screwing up the times and accidentally missing his real appointment earlier in the day and he threatened something about not wearing a few certain pairs of jeans...whatever the hell that means…

The couple must have put in a good word for you because following his impromptu hair dying, Mark, Renjun and Jeno booked appointments with you the following week. It’s not uncommon for the band members to change their hair colors fairly often, which meant it was only a matter of time before every member of the group had taken their turn in your salon chair. The thing is, you had no idea you would be meeting the final member this evening with no prior warning to his arrival.

If you knew he was coming, maybe you would’ve dressed more appealing or done your makeup nicer than usual. But on the other hand, he would’ve expected you to do something like that, right? And if you intend to heed the warnings from those past girls he used up and tossed aside like trash, you wouldn’t go the extra mile to look more presentable. He is a client that showed up unannounced on a night that you feel particularly exhausted. No matter who he is or how much you want to straddle his lap, you have a moral obligation to abide by.

“Hi, Jaemin! I’m…the stylist that wishes you would've made an appointment with me first.” You shake his hand, repaying his smile with a polite one, then resume sweeping the hair below his feet.

You don’t look back up at him, focusing on the task you were attending to before he appeared. In many ways, this incident is similar to when Haechan showed up. The difference is that the previous guy was apologetic about the mistaken time and very gracious when you agreed to do his hair despite showing up out of nowhere — something you feel is partially credited to being in a relationship with someone who is constantly humbling him.

“Well, Haechan told me your name is y/n. So, y/n, I was wondering if you would do my hair?”

You stop sweeping and lean your weight on the wooden broom handle. “I would love to, Jaemin!”

“Great! I’m sick of my dark hair and I was thinking-”

“When would you like to make an appointment with me?”

Jaemin pauses for a second, thrown off guard by rejection. “You mean...you can’t do me now? Haechan said he came here around this time a few weeks ago and he didn’t make an appointment with you then.”

“True, but I wasn’t as tired and hungry that night.” You shrug, dispensing of the hair and moving on to wiping the counter with a sanitary cloth.

“Oh… hey, how about I buy you something to eat?”

You make eye contact with the captivating gaze studying your movements in the reflection of the mirror, and raise a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?”

Jaemin clutches his chest and leans back as if surprised. “Me? Asking you out? No! This is just getting food since, like you said, you’re hungry! Unless…” He relaxes into the chair again, dawning that same smile he wore when he first introduced himself. “... you want me to ask you out.”

“Oh…hmm.” You rub your lips together.

Last week’s you would have said yes in a heartbeat but the effect of meeting his bandmates one-by-one must have made the shiny novelty of being in the presence of the remaining rock star less intimidating. He’s still drop dead gorgeous and you’re still attracted to the infamous playboy but, again, he is a potential client and you are a strong willed professional. You have no intention of treating him rudely and you hope it hasn’t come off that way; you simply need to set some boundaries with Jaemin.

“Thanks but I think I'll have to pass.” You toss the wipe in the trash and pick up your appointment book. Flipping through the pages to the next available slots, you don’t notice his stunned expression. “Okay, the next time I’m available is next week on Tuesday from 3 t—"

“I’m sorry, what was that? You’ll pass?”

“Yes.” You crouch down and rummage through a cabinet at your workstation to grab something to write with.

“Yes, as in you will go out with me tonight?” he says hopefully.

“No. Yes, as in I’ll pass,” you giggle at the surprising optimism in his voice as you turn to face him for once. “And didn’t you say this wasn’t you asking me out?”

Jaemin clears his throat. “I’m not. I wasn’t asking you out, you must be hearing things.”

Both of you hear your stomach rumble with urgency and you let out a fatigued sigh. You could practically taste last night’s leftovers impatiently waiting for you in the fridge and as fun as it is staring at a pretty face like his, you are eager to leave. “Jaemin, do you want the appointment or not?”

Jaemin nods defeatedly. “Yes… I won’t pass on seeing you again, princess.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but don’t comment on it, penciling in his name and writing the details out on a tiny appointment card for him to avoid looking into his eyes. He likes to imagine that the name has the desired effect based on the way you avoided looking at him when “princess” left his mouth. He picks out a different pet name for every girl that catches his eye and to Jaemin you just look like you’ll melt if he calls you his princess enough times.

You hand the paper slip with the appointment time and date to him. His fingers brush against yours and, as cliche as it sounds, you feel tiny electric sparks tingling through your body stemming from where you made the slightest, brief contact with his skin.

Undoubtedly, it’s all in your head though. Perhaps the exhaustion is catching up to you and your mental capacity for rational decision making is short circuiting. There is absolutely nothing even remotely special going on between you two because at the end of the day, you’re just another girl he’s trying to sleep with. To get close to Na Jaemin, the embodiment of bad news, would be a major mistake on your part.

“Can I walk you to your car?”

You peek over his shoulder into the dark, empty parking lot. Being that you can make out your car in the shadows from where you’re standing, you feel that there is no need for accompaniment to your vehicle.

“Thanks, but I think I’m good.” Jaemin slightly pouts his lips adorably as he follows you like a scolded puppy out the door. “Um, well I’ll see you next week I guess.”

He looks down at the appointment card one last time and a mischievous smile spreads across his face. You gasp when he quickly plants a tender kiss on your cheek. He backtracks a few paces to look you up and down, drinking in your body one last time before he hits the road. “Yes, y/n. Yes you will. Tuesday. 3:00 pm… it’s a date,” he says confidently. Jaemin sends a flirty wink your way then jogs off to his car somewhere around the corner of the salon.

“It’s not a- !” you shout after the drummer who vanishes before you finish your rebuttal.

You reach up to the spot he kissed your skin, touching where his lips met your face. You slide into your car in a daze. The steering wheel is cold to the touch but the frozen leather doesn’t register with you right away. You take a deep breath after a moment and remind yourself that Jaemin is nothing to you because you’re basically nothing to him. You’re not playing into his hands like puddy to be molded however he pleases.

It’s not like you are the type to have a "I’m not like other girls'' mentality; you don’t believe yourself to be better or smarter than anyone else. You simply want to show Jaemin that his lousy, half-assed shot isn’t hitting the target he painted on some new girl’s ass. Maybe, just maybe, knocking him down a few pegs will serve as a learning point and he won’t pursue any future strangers with the same self entitled sleazy behavior.

─────────────────────

Jaemin is used to getting what he wants. He gets away with practically everything he does, sweet talking his way out of sticky situations that arise and using the art of persuasion to obtain anything that he could possibly ever desire. What’s more is that he rarely needs to put in much effort to get the outcome he’s seeking.

He couldn’t care less about whatever lesson you’re trying to teach him. Anyone with eyes could see that you are playing hard to get and he bets you will be eating out of the palm of his hand by the end of next week.

It is only a matter of time before you are his to ruin.

“Nah, dude, I really like her!” Mark objects when Jaemin reveals what actually happened between you two after only giving his housemates half the details the first night he met you. He flops down in a cheap bean bag chair in the corner of the small living room then lurches forward with wide eyes. “Wait, like, not like-like her. I mean, um, I think she’s really cool and I don’t want you to, like, mess up the band’s connection with y/n, you know?”

Jeno snickers, reaching over the coffee table to pass him the bong after taking a hit. “Calm down, Mark. We know you've got a crush on that one songwriter at the company, you don’t need to freak out.”

Mark's ears burn cherry red at the mention of the girl he's completely smitten over. “I’m not freaking out! All I’m saying is Jaemin’s idea is fucked up and I don’t know why I’M the only one who thinks that.” Mark pulls a lighter out of his pocket and finishes off what’s left of the bowl that hasn’t turned to ash.

Despite their newfound fame, the band still shares the same house. Although there is very little privacy among the five, it’s not the worst situation in the world. They all have their own rooms and there are enough parking spaces for those of them that drive so they haven’t found a need to move out yet.

Nevertheless, if the band had to complain about anything, one of the first things Mark, Renjun, Jeno and Haechan would bring up is the frequency in which Jaemin brings home new hookups and how loud the combination of hot moaning and squeaky bed springs tends to be in the middle of the night. Sometimes they’re one-night stands and other times they serve as Jaemin’s little plaything that he’ll keep around for a short period of time — emphasis on short. Most of them grow attached to him, assuming it's an unspoken relationship sort of thing, but Jaemin hasn't had a relationship in several years and he doesn't plan on having a girlfriend anytime soon. He's perfectly content with the revolving door of girls he's set up nicely.

He hasn’t always been this way though. Heartbreak can do that to a person, fucking them up so badly that they spiral into this fiercely independent thrill seeker who views attachment as a death sentence. They’ll do nearly anything under the sun just to distract themselves and feel something other than heartache once and awhile until it’s a distant, foggy memory. Jaemin has found success in this field, putting off what normal, healthy people feel and diving deeper into this numbing pit.

Even if the nightly disturbances prevent them from getting sufficient shut eye, the other four members would rather lose sleep if it meant that they could keep his bad practices in check, preventing those from potentially worsening or him experimenting with harder drugs on a regular basis if not under their supervision. It's one thing to snort a line of coke at a party, but addiction and dependency on a dangerous drug is what they're concerned about him doing someday.

“You’re not the only one, Mark. There’s no way she’s dumb enough to cave within a week,” Renjun concurs from the couch. He turns to Haechan on his left and softly requests that he packs the bowl for him because Renjun doesn’t like doing it himself. Naturally, he gets what he wants, as per usual when he asks nicely in a way that the others can’t say no to.

“So what? You’re saying you think it’ll take longer?”

Haechan snaps his tongue disappointedly, not looking up to address the speaker as he concentrates on crumbling the weed on Renjun’s behalf. “It’s not about ‘how long.’ It’s about leaving her alone because you’re harassing her and she’s obviously not interested.”

“Why? Does she have a boyfriend? Orrr, I don't know, girlfriend?” Jaemin sits down at the coffee table and folds his legs in front of him.

“As far as I know she’s single,” Renjun informs him before taking a hit that’s too big for him and heavily coughing.

“Okay, so what I'm hearing is that you don’t know that she’s not interested for sure-for sure.”

“Come on, Jaemin. She’s, like, the only stylist that’s fried my hair the least out of all the others we’ve been to,” Mark points at his blond hair.

Jeno tilts towards him to pat his head and verify it’s less straw-like than previous trips to the hair salon. “I wish she could be the one to do our hair regularly, even for this album and the tour.”

“Me too,” Haechan agrees. “Actually, my wish is that somebody doesn’t fuck up our chances of y/n even agreeing to do our hair again and maybe even get us banned from the salon.”

“Quit being so dramatic. I’m not going to do something to that scale.”

“‘Do something to that scale?’” Renjun says with a faded drawl to his voice. “Even after we explicitly told you that we don’t want you to hit and run y/n, you’re still going to do it anyways. Great. Our friendship means nothing. Got it.”

Jaemin holds his hands up as if being held at gunpoint by their barrage of criticisms. “Ugh, okay! I get it! You guys don’t want me to mess with her. I’ll back off, okay?”

Jeno lightly kicks Jaemin to get his attention. “Wait a minute. Don’t you have an appointment with her tomorrow?” he recalls, receiving a nod of confirmation. “So are you going to cancel it to make her less uncomfortable?”

“Why would I do that? If you guys can be friends with y/n, why can’t I be friends with y/n too?”

Haechan snorts, painfully blowing some smoke through his nose as it flows out from his lungs and into the thoroughly hazy air. “Because you can’t force friendships and you’ve probably already creeped her out, that’s why.”

“Well it’s too late now. I can’t cancel this late, that would be incredibly rude! And friends don’t do that to other friends.”

“Surrre,” the singer replies sarcastically. “Like you don’t already have some ulterior motive behind wanting to be friends with her. We all get it, you want to fuck her brains out. But could you just consider what we’re saying and keep it in your pants? For once?”

“Actually, when you think about it, she's lucky that we’ll be too busy getting ready to drop the album that you won’t have, like, all the time in the world to bug her,” Mark comments.

“And your hair is lucky you won’t be frying it every week just to see her again,” Jeno pokes fun at his best friend. He smiles widely when he, Lee Jeno – new residential funny guy of the band, receives a chuckle from the bunch.

After its second trip around the room, the bong returns to Jaemin’s grasp. A lightbulb goes off in Jaemin’s head as he brings the mouthpiece to his lips. Knowing they would disapprove, he doesn’t share the ingenious idea that popped into his mind. “Yeah, you’re right…if only we had more time to see her.”

─────────────────────

“Mmmh, that feels good,” Jaemin practically moans as you massage his scalp in the wash bowl. “Are you usually this quiet during appointments? You’ve barely said anything this whole time.”

“No, not all of them. Just during the appointments with guys trying to flirt with me the whole time,” you reply with a smirk.

“Who said I was flirting with you, y/n?”

“No one had to say anything. You literally asked me out last week.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hang on a minute. I thought we went over this? I was simply asking if you wanted to get food as friends,” he poorly attempts to persuade you.

“Oh, so we’re friends now, huh? I guess I didn’t get the memo that we were already friends.” You stop running your fingers through his soft hair and rinse the nourishing conditioner out with warm water.

Jaemin frowns a bit when you pivot around to retrieve a neatly folded towel from the rack behind you. He liked the view from this position, looking up at your concentrated face and memorizing your features in a situation where you couldn’t avoid facing him. Sadly, all good things must end, including this one.

You ring the fluffy towel around the halo of his hairline and help him pat his freshly dyed hair dry. He sits up from the position he was laying, tilted back with his head hovering over the wash bowl.

“Yeah, well, now you know. We’re friends… and as your nicest, most considerate and utmost reliable friend, I went ahead and got you a new, better job,” he states proudly.

“You what?” you ask, incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Jaemin takes over from there and holds the towel in place himself. He twists his torso around to face you with an excited expression. “I talked to the guys and they all love how you did their hair, sooo I went to the company and talked about you and ta-da! You have a new job with us!”

“With… you?”

“Yeah, well not just me, silly. It’s all of us! and shhh, don’t tell anyone but-” Jaemin leans in closer and motions for you to do the same. Cupping one hand around his mouth he whispers, “-we’re releasing our second album in a few weeks! AND going on a short tour right after that!”

“Um, congrats! But what does that have to do with me again?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes teasingly like the answer is right under your nose and if it were a snake, it would have bitten you already. “Tour! T-O-U-R. We’re going on tour. And we need someone to do our hair because the old stylist left the day after we shot the music video and now that someone is you.”

Your eyes widen slowly while you absorb the new information that he sprung on you unexpectedly. “I-I don’t know what to say…when is–”

“Princess, this is when you say ‘thank you, Jaemin! I never imagined having such an amazing, handsome, and talented friend like you!’” he exclaims in a higher pitched tone with no regard to the judgmental side glances from other occupants of the beauty salon.

Although you hate to think that you owe the notorious playboy anything whatsoever, he is 100% correct. His questionably kind deed deserves your gratitude. You never would have imagined having someone like Jaemin, a borderline b-list celebrity from a rock band that you had just started listening to a few months ago, would have thrown around his weight to earn you a role at the legendary music label. Come to think of it, you are surprised he has any influence on staff-related matters at all, considering the band joined the company relatively recently themselves.

Jaemin lets the wrinkly wet towel slip onto his muscular shoulders, throwing his arms around you. He embraces your stunned body in a bear hug, thawing your frozen frame with his hot body heat. Water droplets trickle down from his hair and land on your blouse, nevertheless, similar to the soured opinions directed at you two in the establishment, the dampening of your clothing means very little to the both of you at the moment.

“Um, i… thank you, Jaemin.”

“Hold up, wait. Are you saying you’ll do it? Really!?”

The damp towel rung around his neck falls to the floor when he suddenly steps back. He holds both of your shoulders, looking you square in the face. His eyes lit up hearing your words due to the fact that he was half convinced you would turn down the offer, prioritizing loyalty to the business without second thought.

“Yes, I’ll do it,” you laugh lightly at his cute, unexpectedly animated response.

Jaemin becomes self aware a second later, bringing him to drop the smile and clear his throat. He resumes the trademark smooth rock star composure, his seductive, half lidded eyes searching your face for hesitation. “You’re not going to make the mistake of passing on me again, are you?”

“No, I’m not passing on this opportunity you somehow got for me.” You teasingly roll your eyes at his attempt to salvage the cool image he abandoned for authentic elation. “Wait, you’re not messing with me are you? This is a real offer, right?”

“Of course it’s real, y/n,” he assures you.

He bends over to pick up the towel that dropped at your feet. He returns to the upright position a handful of inches away from your face. You hold your breath, heart beating out of your chest, butterflies fluttering up a storm in your abdomen, core clenching around nothing — all byproducts of ending up in such close proximity to him. Being so close, you can smell his clean, cotton cologne, see the teeny, almost invisible crescents of amber rimming the bottom of his irises and, despite a thin of concealer, faint purple pigmentation under his tired eyes.

It’s different than looking down at him as you massaged the dye from his hair. You can back away at any given moment, putting distance between your bodies if you are uncomfortable, just as Jaemin has an equal opportunity to take one step forward at any given moment, colliding your mouths together like he has envisioned not only this whole appointment, but all the days before. Looking at him in 4k clarity, he is nothing less than perfect from your point of view… and that’s a problem for you in both the short term and the long run.

His hypnotic gaze flicks to your lips for a moment then back up to your glossy eyes. “Princess, I’d never mess with you like that. I’m no saint but I’m not the devil,” Jaemin whispers in a hushed voice for only you to hear before booping your nose. He walks a short distance from the washbowls, returning to the styling chair he had eagerly awaited to sit down in since he saw you last. “How about you dry my hair and then we go sign the paperwork? What do ’ya say, y/n?” You nod dreamily, removing the blow dryer from its slot next to your styling station cabinet. Almost still in disbelief, you feel a bit light headed, whether from the unimaginable job offer or the dangerous heartbreaker sitting in front of you, you have no clue. “I say you got yourself a deal, Jaemin.”

“Perfect,” he approves with a cunning undertone you don’t catch while you’re preoccupied with multitasking, deeply reflecting on the present situation and blow drying his freshly dyed hair.

He may not get you by the end of this week, but the sweet taste of victory is almost on the tip of his tongue. You are at the threshold, barely restraining yourself from letting go and admitting you want him in every way possible.

He wants you to be the one to lean in and kiss his lips. You have to want it so badly that you make the first move and he’ll be patient until he gets what he wants. Jaemin is absolutely certain this time that one more flirty encounter should do the trick before you’ll be kneeling at his feet, mouth wide open and desperate eyes pleading for him to fuck your throat, brutally.

─────────────────────

Before your first day of work, you had spent an incredibly long time stressing over what awaited you now that you have signed at the bottom of a long, binding contract, your name sworn with dark navy blue ink in swirly, scribbled cursive letters that, when put all together, vaguely resembled your name.

The two weeks of your time as an employee was much easier than you thought it would be so your adjustment period as the band’s hairstylist went by in a breeze. You went over their typical weekly schedules with their managers and got a good look at the upcoming promotion timetable, finding out which appearances of theirs would be more laid back and others that will likely require more exertion based on their level of physical activity. There are a few upcoming radio shows, interviews and live performances of their title track song, as well as self-made content of the band doing various fun activities that the company believes will let the fans get to know the band better.

In a short amount of time, Jaemin constantly hitting on you has become nothing more than a minor inconvenience. You’re aware that he sees that as somewhat of a challenge but it doesn’t bother you as much as you worried beforehand. You wonder if the previous hair stylist received the same amount of attention from Jaemin and if he had been flirting up a storm with her too.

…

“So, Mack! Tell us-”

“It’s Mark, actually,” he meekly muttered under his breath, not knowing that the mic-pac would pick up his voice during the tv interview.

“Oh, sorry! What was that again, dear?” The disarming, middle aged interviewer leaned forward and looked down the line of five at the misnamed member on the furthest side of the couch.

The cameraman panned over to Mark, live broadcasting his startled expression over national television. Being that Jaemin had been sitting next to the band’s leader, his face was also captured staring off into the distance with a lost look in his eyes.

He’s typically quiet and introverted in public or around strangers, which is why one might think he pays great attention to the little details of his surroundings. Though this theory sounds reasonable, they would be dead wrong. His bad habit of zoning out happens in the middle of relatively every scheduled event, interview, or activity, and this occasion was no different.

His attention was drawn back to the present when Mark’s elbow accidentally bumped into him subconsciously brushing his hand through his hair in a nervous sweat. “Um, it’s Mark! Sorry for interrupting! Continue, continue,” he said, gesturing with both hands for the host to carry on with the interview questions.

…

“Okay, what were you thinking right there?” you ask him. You pause the video on youtube and point it out to the member whose hair was weirdly textured on just the right side of his head. It’s the first day of promoting their new album and so far they’ve completed two out of the three interviews on the docket. With one last stop to go, his hairdo required more correction than the others when they arrived at the final destination.

“I don’t know!” he squeaks defensively. “Like, how can you forget a name like Mark? It’s basically the easiest one to remember!”

Haechan joins you, Mark and Renjun in the dressing room. “Really? I think you’re pretty forgettable.” Haechan takes a seat on the couch next to him and scoots closer to pat his back. “You should go by Mack from now on. Doesn’t he look like a Mack?”

Unsurprisingly, he ends up on the opposite side of the couch after Mark shoves his shoulder. Haechan slumps to his side, pretending to be wounded and pouting as if he didn’t intentionally aggravate Mark to get wacked, pinched or elbowed on purpose.

“Hey, don’t mess up your hair playing the victim,” you say with amusement.

“Yeah, listen to y/n.” Looking over your shoulder, you see Jaemin enter the room, wagging a finger at him with one hand and holding something behind his back with the other. Jeno nudges him forward a few paces to maneuver around his best friend practically blocking the doorway.

Mark reassures you that he will be more mindful to avoid fidgeting during their last interview in an hour and you shift your attention back to the flirt. You look at him suspiciously, narrowing your eyes. “What’s that behind your back?”

He smiles and reveals a cardboard tray of four Starbucks drinks. “I hope I guessed your order correctly.”

Haechan pops up at your side excitedly. “Did you get all of us coffee? Is the cold brew for me?”

“No, it’s for y/n,” he snaps. He removes the can from the slot in which it was safely stored, holding it out for you. “Besides, there are six of us and four drinks. Can you count?”

You take it from him. “Thank you, Jaemin… but I don’t like cold brew coffee, but thank you., anyways.”

Jaemin watches you hand the drink off to Haechan. He smiles gleefully and cracks open the can, taking a swig of the drink intended for your mouth. He gives you an appreciative half hug before returning to his seat. “Yeah, thank you, Jaemin.”

Jaemin selects another drink from the cardboard tray for his second attempt. “Okay, how about this one?”

You read the markings on the side of the cup to deduce the flavor. “Hm, what if I don’t like cafe lattes?”

“Then what about a mango smoothie?”

“Can I have that one, please?” Mark speaks up from behind you.

You accept the third unwanted drink from Jaemin’s grasp and pass it to the member who asked nicely instead of keeping it in your possession. Jaemin sighs, frustrated by the unexpected failure. He plucks the last one from the carton and brings it up to his mouth for a sip of the drink he ordered for himself personally.

“Wait, is that an iced americano?” You flick your chin at the cup.

He pauses and rolls his eyes. “Lemme guess. This is what you usually order.” The irony of the situation and his expression makes you giggle briefly, nodding to confirm his statement. He looks down at the drink and back to you before reluctantly holding it out. “Fine. You can have my drink. But! You should know that I already drank off of it.”

“I don’t mind,” you answer. Receiving the drink, he watches you slip the straw past your lips and you smile up at him, whether triumphantly or appreciatively, there’s no way to tell the difference.

The gesture was so basic and the result of the situation shouldn’t have mattered but Jaemin felt like you have won this round. Your job isn’t supposed to be a game and yet in his mind he’s losing every match to a girl that he deemed an easy opponent.

─────────────────────

“God, I hate this game,” Renjun grumbles.

Haechan comes up behind him, throwing his arm over Renjun’s narrow shoulders. “God, I love this game.”

“Of course you do.” Renjun attempts to push him away but Haechan koalas his slim frame tighter.

“What does playing ‘Mafia’ have to do with us? How do you even do that with five people?” he adds to the long list of complaints you’ve heard from them since they arrived on set early this morning.

"The show has two hosts, which makes it a total of 7 players," Mark explains. “It won’t be that bad, you guys. It's only a few rounds.” Jeno backs him up with a supportive grunt.

Jeno turns to Jaemin to finish their census on the last filmed content video they are putting out before the tour starts next week. “What do you think, Jaemin?”

“Hm?” Jaemin stops nursing his iced coffee absentmindedly. “Oh, yeah. Mafia doesn’t sound too bad…” As you join them, aiming to fix any hairs out of place with a precise tiny tool in your hand, his tonal inflection shifts to the trademark flirty one you’re so familiar with nowadays. “Hey, gorgeous! What do you think of Mafia?”

“I don’t think that Mafia is as terrible as you guys make it out to be.” You start with Renjun then direct your attention to Jeno. You get on your tiptoes to carefully fix a few pink lemonade strands of hair on the top of his head and make a mental note that the color is fading faster than you anticipated. The members taller than Renjun have grown accustomed to lowering themselves to make your job easier. Moving on to Mark’s hair, he does the same thing automatically.

“Oh my god! We finally agreed on something for the first time ever!”

You roll your eyes, smiling at his silly, false assertion. “This isn’t the first time we’ve ever agreed on something. There's definitely been some other time that we can’t remember where we agreed on something.”

Jaemin strokes his chin considering your statement. “Okay, maybe it’s not the very first but I beeeeet it’s one of the first.”

You scoff and shift to Haechan, correcting the flyaway hairs sprouting where his dark hair is parted. “You’re always using that word: bet. It’s like you’d “bet” on nearly anything like you’re psychic.”

“And what if I am, huh?” he says, words laced with the promise of a challenge. “I bet I can read your mind right now.”

Jaemin’s eyes ping pong from your face, down your body, to your feet and back up again before you approach him to fix his hair. He deviously ruffled his hair on purpose to grant himself more intimate time with you. He studies your face closely, looking for all the tiny tell-tale signs that you are on the verge of cracking and letting him use you like a pliant sexdoll.

“Yeah, right. And I’m not doing that ‘pick a number between whatever and whatever and I’ll say it’ thing either.”

“I wasn’t talking about numbers. I know what you’re thinking… I know what you’re imagining…and I’d say it out loud but–” Jaemin leans in closer to your ear, whispering a heavily suggestive comment. “–I think it’s a bit too explicit for so many people around us to hear your wild, dirty thoughts about what I'm going to do to you.” He rocks back on his heels, retracting his mouth that was nearly skimming the sensitive skin of your neck close to your ear. You turn around to face the other guys and not the playboy.

The ten seconds of silence is broken by Jeno asking “Wait, so what’s y/n thinking?”

“No, what do you think y/n’s thinking, Mr. psychic?” Renjun corrects him. “I’m sure you were correct since you’re just so good at reading minds.”

“Hey, isn’t it funny how Jaemin can read minds but he has the worst memory? Peak comedy right there,” Haechan laughs along with Renjun at the irony.

You avert your eyes from a few curious pairs awaiting the rejection of what he said. You turn your back on them, reaching for Jaemin’s locks of hair that stand up in different directions in an attempt to deal with the embarrassing heat rippling across your face and neck in the most private way possible in this current situation.

“No, he was dead wrong! I was thinking about going home because I’m really tired,” you remark truthfully over your shoulder then tune out whatever conversion follows your nightmarish one where you were put on the spot.

What you were imagining wasn’t anything remotely close to sexual before he spoke. Although, just as he planned, a certain kind of fantasy is the only thing clouding your mind. Your palms are sweaty and your heart is beating alarmingly fast due to the high tension moment. The somersaults in your stomach coax an arousal to simmer just beneath your skin. You wish you could hide it, compartmentalize or, even better, squash the thrilling attraction you feel towards Jaemin so he wouldn’t be able to detect even a fraction of your flustered condition at the moment.

Why do you feel like he has all the power in this situation?

After all, when you think about it for a second, Jaemin is an alleged sex addict. If anyone was going to feel turned on beyond control, wouldn’t it be him? So if you are going to have to suffer through the sexual frustration he caused for the evening, your new job (that he also technically got you) is to make it so he will too. You don’t know how sensitive he is to the little things that turn you on as well, so basically all you can do is hope you can at least kind of bother him to regain some power.

You’re overtly aware that he watches your reactions like a hawk, which is the exact reason why you lick across your top and your bottom lips, slow and sensual, followed by biting your bottom lip to torment him. You keep your bottom lip tucked between your teeth until you’re down sculpting his hair to perfection again. With the comb’s final stroke through his hair, you lean in to Jaemin’s neck even closer than he did for you. Your lips barely graze his smooth skin while whispering, “I don’t know how to explain it but I think doing things in public, with so many people around us to accidentally hear or see, is really fucking hot…but if you pull something like that again, I will shave your fucking head.”

Mark clears his throat awkwardly to try and disturb the tense scene but Jaemin doesn't waver right away, stunned and aroused in a way he didn’t expect from a girl he believed to be so innocent and pure. “I think I just heard them call for us!”

“Uh, no they d–” Jeno starts, giving him a puzzled look but being cut off by Mark nudging his shoulder.

“Let’s go guys,” he calls on them. He flicks his chin in the direction of the nearly blindingly bright set and high definition cameras. Jaemin doesn’t budge until Jeno loops his arm under Jaemin’s, hauling him away from where you stand cemented to the floor in shock.

Why did you do that?

You just made the situation worse by tempting him back. You can’t remember a time when you were more turned on than this moment with him and you could easily imagine yourself getting addicted to that pulsating feeling between your legs. You cross your arms, mind scrambled and unsure what to focus on after his public stunt. With nothing to do, you watch the game of deception.

Every member is animated, lively and competitive today, making for the most entertaining content that their fans can devour. Per usual, Jaemin doesn't really take the game seriously. In the three rounds of the game, he’s chosen as mafia twice and, by total luck, wins both of them simply because his partner deceived the innocents.

Jaemin rides back to the house with a pack of Korean beef in his lap and a temporary crown of superiority sitting atop his inflated head. It occurs to him that upon the hustle and bustle of wrapping up filming, he didn’t see where you ran off to. He sums up why it means so much to say goodnight as wanting you to part ways with him being on your mind for the whole night yet that regret of not doing so only bonds you to his mind.

─────────────────────

“Hey, do you know what time y/n left? I didn’t see her at the end of the night and this is the fourth time she hasn’t said goodnight to me.”

“Why would she go out of her way to say goodnight to you, of all people?” Jeno chuckles. The safest driver of the five keeps his eyes on the road heading home while carrying on with their conversation. “You didn’t see her at the end because she left with Mark and he didn’t have to stay as long as I did waiting for you to– ”

Jaemin sits up suddenly. “She left with Mark?”

“Yeah, they’re going out for drinks– ”

“They’re WHAT?”

“-but it’s not like how you’re thinking of it! They’re just friends, Mark and I were talking about her earlier and he’s not into her like that. Haechan and Renjun might meet up with them later too so I don’t know if we’ll see them when we get back right now.”

“Ugh, inviting them but not inviting us? That’s just plain rude.”

“Welll… I was invited.” Jeno pulls into the garage and turns to face Jaemin. “I just knew that you’ll feel extremely lonely sitting at him by yourself.”

“What the fuck. Why wasn’t I invited?”

“I don’t know, maybe she didn’t want to be hit on all night.”

Jaemin shuts the door to the garage a little harder than he intended to as he heads inside. “She’s going to a bar. She’s going to be hit on no matter if I was invited or not.”

“True… but nobody at Neo Bar would be trying to get her number while also having been harassing her for weeks. She’s not gonna run into anyone creepier than you tonight.”

“ah-HA! So they’re at Neo tonight! Roger that.” Jaemin races up the stairs to throw on what he considers night-appropriate attire. Descending swiftly to swipe the car keys without tell his best friend, Jeno catches his arm in the doorway

“Argh…I can’t believe I’m saying this but if you’re going, I’m going with you,” Jeno concedes, sighing. He holds out his hand, motioning for Jaemin to hand over the car keys he took. “But I’m driving.”

…

Initially, when he and Jeno arrive at the scene, Jaemin is surprised to discover there’s a considerable number of patrons in and around the establishment, leading Jeno to remind him that the place is considered more of a rock club than it is a bar. He also mentions how the place is well known for being a hotspot that bands, songwriters, producers and all the alike frequent, which explains why even if it’s a Thursday night and a bulk of the people vibing to the music inside and scattered across the parking lot have jobs they need to show up bright and early for in the morning, they would hang around here to increase their chances of encountering someone famous within the industry.

The air is dense and smoky, its jumbled, incomprehensible chatter blending together. Various rock songs ranging from legends like The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC, to the newer rock bands that aren’t credited as household names yet, blare through Neo Bar’s speakers, engulfing the room in a nearly overwhelming state of chaos. They played a Bad Dreams song a half hour ago and you'd never seen Mark smile wider.

Beginning to elbow his way through the overgrown forest of people, Jaemin wonders about your drinking habits too. Are you the kind to not give a damn about potential hangovers the next morning or do you take precautions and limit your intoxication? He theorizes that a majority of the people he bumps into are hovering at a reasonable level of inebriation with the threat of work in the A.M. looming over the horizon of their foreseeable futures.

The setting reminds Jaemin of the painful, soul-souring memories he’d rather not hash out today, nor tomorrow, nor forever until the day he’s six feet under in an overpriced, wooden box. Jaemin presses onward in search of his elusive target, albeit feeling the faint ache in his chest resurfacing after four years of suppressing it.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Jeno yells. Even in the low lighting, he notices Jaemin looking a bit gray around the gills. Jaemin nods and gives him a thumbs up, brushing off his visible discomfort and pretending like he doesn’t feel the walls shrinking inwardly with every step he adventures deeper into the tangled sweaty, compressed thicket.

They scour the stuffy, packed bar, seemingly going in circles until Jeno spots you and Mark in one of the very back corners. Your secluded nook leads up a handful of stairs to a platform with two wide lounge couches, slightly angled to face each other. There is enough room to fit all four of you comfortably if you double up on who's sitting next to whom. Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name" begins to play as the newcomers tread up the sturdy stairs to join you two, you and Mark get to your feet from the couch you were sharing.

You throw your head back, in one thick gulp downing the rest of the drink bought for you by some stranger who was hitting on you half an hour ago. At the time, it was when Mark was in the bathroom and you were picking up beers. He tried several slimy pick up lines on you, and, because he didn’t notice you came with someone, got the impression that you were here alone.

Honestly, it made you appreciate the way Jaemin speaks to you – not overtly predatory, but rather smooth and silky. Even if they both have the same end goal in mind, you don't feel as icky when Jaemin tries to sweet talk you.

You hiss as the alcohol sears your throat and the numbing heat bubbles within your chest. “What are you d-doing here?” you hiccup, poking Jaemin's toned chest.

He smiles fondly, finding your tipsy behavior both adorable and amusing. Unsurprisingly, he winks at you, and takes your hand into his the next time you try to poke his chest. Threading your fingers together, your clasped hands fall in between your bodies. He lightly swings them like it’s a natural occurrence for your hand to be enclosed in his larger one.

“Isn’t it obvious? I came to see you, princess.”

“Well what if I wanted a break from seeing you right now?” you pout. You half-heartedly try to pull away, making zero progress when he doesn't budge. Realizing, however, that it's quite comfortable and nowhere near as foreign of a feeling as you might've imagined it to be, you leave them conjoined.

“Well then I’d say you’re too drunk right now and can’t think straight.” Jaemin boops your nose out of nowhere and you giggle easily.

You tug him over to sit next to you on the vacant lounge chair that was reserved for Haechan and Renjun if they hadn't bailed. You plop down and Jaemin follows your lead. The limited space that the piece of furniture offers means that it is inevitable for your thigh to press against his. You slouch to the side in the opposite direction he’s sitting, leaning your upper body weight on your elbow against the armrest. You cup your chin in your hand and close your eyes momentarily to enjoy the buzz underneath your skin and vibrating off the walls.

In what feels like a minute later, it’s brought to your attention that you’re still holding hands with Jaemin. You can’t help but smile when you feel him draw gentle shapes into the back of your hand with his thumb. You subtly side glance at him. He’s wrapped up in a conversation about what to pack for next week’s highly anticipated departure.

“I’m not packing too much so my bag isn’t the one you need to worry about,” Jaemin tells someone.

“Yeah, because you store a lot of your stuff in my bag and you’re anti-pajamas,” Jeno inserts, before going down to fetch another round of drinks that neither you nor Jaemin plan on participating in – his reasoning being that he finds alcohol to be repugnant, both in terms of taste and the burn that ripples down his throat; and yours having to do with taking precaution against potential alcohol poisoning.

You haven’t even taken a single sip within the last few minutes, and yet, with each passing second, you feel further away from your physical form.

“Anti p-pajamas?” you hiccup.

“Yeah. I read that wearing pajamas to bed is bad for your health,” Jaemin smirks. He adjusts your hand's position, resting it in the middle of his thigh. “And because I care so much about my health, I sleep naked.”

“Oh,” you replied simply, sounding unimpressed.

You passively listen to them chatter about the upcoming tour and wearing the same outfits at the airport for no particular reason, before Jeno and Mark get up for something. You sit up straight, watching them put greater distance between themselves and you and Jaemin, then slump against your seat companion when you feel too dizzy to stay upright. He readjusts himself, shifting his entire body to be at an angle that would make you more comfortable. Lolling your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into the crook of his neck and hum dreamily. “So do I.”

“You do what?”

“Sleep naked,” you murmur, using your last spurt of energy to curl your legs up and mount his lap.

His hands circle around your middle, squeezing your love handles, possessively. Staring up at your shadowy face, his eyes light up with concern, piecing together that your mannerisms are too out of character for the fault to be placed on the alcohol alone. “y/n, how are you feeling right now?”

A small part of you knows that he’s trying to communicate with you but a faded numbness swallows the words on your tongue before they can leave your mouth.

“Hey, did you take something? You can tell me. I won’t judge, sweetie. I’ve definitely taken worse.”

"Hm?" You blink at him, disengaged and lethargic, failing to form sentences.

You fixate on his mouth where he subsequently performs your favorite habit of his: lightly licking at the corner of the seam of his lips with his indisputably talented tongue. You don't need him shove his tongue down your throat to know that. It's common knowledge.

In a daze, your vision blurs and you melt further into him. You unintentionally grind on Jaemin’s crotch, moaning softly from the pleasure that the friction provides. You do it again and again, still unaware of its origins, or that you are the culprit behind your own stimulation.

He licks his lips again, indecisively. On one hand, he wants you to continue grinding against his growing erection, making yourself feel good while he gets off to the sound of your airy noises – the noises that you don’t realize you’re letting slip from your mouth. But on the other hand, he’s growing increasingly worried about your lack of sobriety.

If you’re going to be on top of him, getting off on the feeling of his hard cock rubbing into your core, he wants it to be of your own free will. Jaemin wants you to choose to pleasure yourself in this scenario, not by compulsion from some substance strong enough to numb all of your senses and strip you of your agency. If he's ever given free reign to do whatever he pleases to your body, it's not going to be because you’re incredibly vulnerable and barely know what's happening, you are going to have to be the one to hand them over.

Properly translating your body language, Jaemin knits his eyebrows together and gathers his scattered thoughts. Your two friends reappear on the outskirts of the crowd. As they climb the stairs, they see what looks to be Jaemin guiding your severely inebriated frame to grind on top of him. The soft moans that spill from your gaping mouth absentmindedly go straight to their crotches.

"Jaemin, what the fuck, man?" Mark gestures at the blatant power imbalance going on here. His voice squeaks, embarrassed to be hearing something he feels like he shouldn't.

“Mark! Where did y/n get this drink from?”

Mark points a thumb over his shoulder towards the bar in which they returned from. “She went over to get us another round of drinks and, I don’t know, she just, like, came back with that one too. I'm pretty sure it was from some guy that was hitting on her earlier.”

To you, their voices sound like distant memories from a past life as you nod off into the clouds. Jaemin feels your muscles power down, your limp body collapsing on his, mobility reduced to paralysis.

“Fuck,” Jaemin curses. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, careful not to disturb you too much, despite that being impossible based on how far you’ve tumbled down the rabbit hole.

Going to the search engine app on his phone, he types out “roofied symptoms” into the search bar with one thumb. Clicking the first site to come up, Jaemin reads down the list, tightening his hold on you protectively when you match every bullet point’s descriptions.

“Wait, dude, what’s going on? Is y/n okay?” Mark staggers a bit closer, wobbling and almost falling over the edge of the platform but successfully making his way to the lounge couch miraculously.

Jaemin sits up a bit straighter, supporting your rag doll body against his. “No, she’s not okay. She’s been fucking drugged,” he spits out angrily.

“Ah, fuck… shit, I’m sorry, man. This is all my fault for not looking out for her when that one guy was hanging around. I should’ve warned her about the drink.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Just help me get her up,” Jaemin huffs impatiently.

Jeno springs into action, filling in for Mark who’s too far gone to be of much service whereas Jeno has taken a total of two sips from the liquid poison in his cup. Jeno helps drag your body up and off of Jaemin’s lap, propping you in between them temporarily until they’ve devised a course of action. They decide that it would be easier if Jeno is the one to carry you back to the car while Jaemin and Mark dig through the crowd in front of you two, clearing as much room as they can afford to get you out quickly and safely.

Setting you down in the back seat of his car, Jeno accidentally bumps your head into the door frame and when Jaemin climbs in to sit next to you, he kisses the newly bruised spot at a moment that Mark and Jeno aren’t looking his way. He clicks your seatbelt into place and settles your body against his side again. He angles his position to mirror the one he did inside to add to your comfort – which again, doesn’t matter since you can’t feel anything, but it means something to Jaemin so he does it anyway. Jeno gets into the driver's seat and Mark, the passenger seat.

It would be a different situation if one of them knew your phone passcode, but since they have no way of getting in contact with any friends or family member of yours, they figure the best and only option here is taking you home with them.

─────────────────────

The next morning, you awake to the smell of burnt toast.

You suspect that it’s nothing more than your roommate’s typical misfortune with anything involving food and rollover to get some extra, much needed shut eye. Your cheek hits the left side of the pillowcase and you instantly detect a different scented fabric softener instantly when sniffing the material

You shoot up out of bed in a panic. You don’t recognize the room and you have no recollection of the night or how you even got here. You squint your eyes, sensitive to the mid-afternoon sunlight pouring into the room from tall windows. Your throbbing head feels extremely heavy like a bowling ball and you press your palms to your temples, applying minimal pressure to try and relieve an ounce of the pain.

You stumble a bit, vision blurring and head spinning, prompting you to hop up and perch yourself on the corner of the relatively tall bed. Looking down at your legs, you realize you’re not wearing the jeans you picked out the previous evening. Instead, you’re dressed in dark blue and black plaid boxers and this is when the real panic sets in.

“Y/n? Are you, like, awake?” a stranger calls through the door. “I made breakfast!”

You snatch a selfie stick from the potentially dangerous man’s desk and wield it in two hands as if it were a formidable opponent weapon. Seeing the lock on the door is twisted to signify open, you leap towards it to prevent the stranger from allegedly harming you again. He swings the door open at the moment you lunge for the lock and your bodies collide. You knock him into the hallway, landing on the wooden floor smack dab on top of him.

“Ow… so I’ll take that as a sign you’re awake?” Mark wheezes.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Mark! I didn’t know where I was and who you were and I kind of freaked out.”

Hearing a loud thud, Jaemin rounds the corner of the hall. The scene he witnesses is one he would never have expected, your lips within inches of Mark’s for a moment before you unsteadily push off of his chest. The way Jaemin sees it, you appear elated to have an opportunity to straddle Mark’s waist. When you sit upright, he would even testify that you slightly roll your hips and grind on his crotch.

Not like it matters to him or anything.

He could not care less that you’re on top of someone that isn’t him. You could fuck anyone you wanted, including any of the band members.

Did he want to be the first rock star to make you come? Yes. But would he throw a fit over it? No. Besides, he erased the word “jealousy” from his vocabulary years ago. Jury's out on whether or not he’ll hold a grudge against Mark for a while, on the basis of bro code. Although, does bro code apply when you call dibs on someone in a non romantic context?

You roll off of Mark’s body. Attempting to get to your feet reminds you of your body’s limits and that you’re aching all over. You throw in the towel, giving up on standing this very second and crawl over to the wall to prop your back up against it. You squint up at Jaemin with a sour expression on your face which he initially believes is directed at him.

“Hey, would you please close the windows in there? It’s so fucking bright it hurts,” you ask nicely, throwing him off guard.

“Um, yeah, no problem.” Jaemin hops over you and Mark’s bodies still sprawled out in the hallway to close the flimsy curtains in Mark’s room, yet despite doing everything possible to block out the sun’s rays, the glow through the mostly transparent, white curtains remains an issue.

He remembers reading photosensitivity being a side effect that victims of the drug experience the next day, along with a few others that Mark and him deemed too worrisome to let you leave and deal with on your own for the time being. Right on cue you feel a wave of nausea hit you. Jaemin crouches down to thread his arms around your body as best he can and helps you to the bathroom quickly. In between your uses of the toilet, he folds up a shower mat and shoves it under your knees to cushion them against the tile.

Jaemin sits on the dusty floor of the bathroom with you, refusing to leave your side until you’re feeling well enough to get up.

He fills in the blanks for you about what happened the night before explaining how you were drugged and why they took you back to their house. You discover that the reason you’re wearing his boxer shorts is that one of the rowdy bar patrons had spilled most of their drink down your legs when they were on their way out. Jaemin said he washed your jeans so you wouldn't be able to tell where the wet stain on your jeans once was and you thank him. You will never tell a soul that after a few hours, you felt comfortable wearing something of his.

He almost jokes that that wasn’t the only “wet spot” he found on the material but bites his tongue because 1. he doesn’t know how uncomfortable you would be knowing that your arousal seeped through your underwear when you were subconsciously grinding on him and 2. you deserve a tiny break from his pick up lines and borderline occasional obnoxious flirting.

─────────────────────

“Wait, are we changing our clothes back there half way through the first show?” Jeno questions. He points into the shadows behind the black curtains.

“Dude. We’ve gone over this so many times already. It’s the right side, not the left,” Mark answers.

“So our right, right? Not their right?” Jeno looks over Mark’s shoulder at the empty space where raging fans are going to be swaying in a few hours.

“Yes. Wow, have you been paying attention at all?” Renjun scoffs. He scans the faces of the other few, searching for any stragglers that may have fallen behind on the concert protocol for their first show of the tour. All except one was up-to-date on the info. Jaemin was the only member staring off into the soon-to-be crowd with a blank look in his eyes.

Math was never Jaemin’s forte. In fact, he never graduated at all. It comes as no surprise to the band for him to have miscalculated how easily you’d cave and get on your knees without him saying a word.

He wouldn’t call it a full blown identity crisis but he has been second guessing who he’s become as of recent. He feels like he has lost his touch and what was once his specialty has been whittled down to a never ending struggle.

Why have you taken so long to win over? He thinks he is making progress, bit by bit chipping away at your thick defensive walls everyday especially after what happened last week at the bar and taking care of you after you got drugged. But has all the time he’s spent on you even worth it? You’re just one girl. He could’ve fucked +20 girls in the time span that he’s dedicated to breaking you. So how much longer is he going to try to get you naked and obedient?

Jaemin has a reputation to uphold and involuntary abstinence isn’t exactly something a womanizing bad boy rock star would stand for. The thing is, he doesn’t want to admit defeat; maybe it’s stubbornness or pride that’s driving him to double down on his dedication, a sunk-cost fallacy mentality driving him mad, but he doesn’t want to move on to someone that would easily spread their legs for him.

Jaemin wants you, and Jaemin always gets what he wants; he never plans on ruining that record.

The longer he’s waited, the more often he pictures folding your legs up just the way he wants them so he could easily guide his cock into your wet–

Renjun snaps his fingers in front of Jaemin’s dazed face. “Stop thinking about her.”

Jaemin blinks a few times. He didn’t even realize he had zoned out in the middle of the band’s mic check turned band meeting. “Hm? What? Thinking about who?”

“Come on, Jaemin. You know who I’m talking about.”

Mark skirts around the drum set and puts his hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. “For real, man. This is the longest I’ve ever seen you go without getting your dick wet. Two months is, like, forever to you.”

Jaemin gasps. “Has it really only been two months? I feel like I’ve known her longer than that.”

“Nope, it’s been two months. And in that time, you haven’t gotten anywhere.”

“What are you talking about? ‘Haven’t gotten anywhere,’” Jaemin says mockingly while doing air quotes with his hands. “Yes, I have.”

“Maybe a little, but it’s like you’re just harassing her now. You’d be lucky if she doesn’t get a restraining order against you when the tour is over,” Haechan jokes, mirroring Mark’s gesture to his shoulder.

Jaemin permits the invasion of his personal bubble by the first hand but swats Haechan’s away. “She wouldn’t do that.”

Mark exchanges glaces with the other band members. “Jaemin-”

“Don’t ‘Jaemin’ me,” he snaps.

“Fine. But after tonight, if she doesn’t budge, you need to give it a rest, okay? One last shot or she’s gonna feel like quitting.”

“Seriously? Does she talk about me? Did she tell you that?” Jaemin questions, mildly worried by the band's ultimatum.

“Well…no, she doesn't but-”

“Then how do you know what she’s feeling?”

“Jaemin, do you like her: yes or no?” Renjun puts him on the spot.

“Like her? You’re asking me if I like her? Ha!" Jaemin holds his stomach, forcing laughter that exactly -4 people are falling for. "What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because if you like y/n that’s a different story than just wanting to rail her in our dressing room.”

“How? And since when did that matter to you?”

"Argh! I'm tired of worrying about if the couch I’m sitting on backstage has your cum on it because you’ve hooked up with some random girl at every concert venue.”

“I have not–”

“Wait, you didn’t answer the question, Jaem,” Jeno points out.

“So? Why should I?!” Jaemin huffs, standing up and throwing his hands in the air.

“Any particular reason you guys don’t want your hair done tonight?” You step out into the light from the stage wing Jeno had been referring to beforehand.

You went looking for the band when they didn’t stop by to get their hair done on schedule. Every member’s attention shifts to you with noticeably startled faces and you begin to grow suspicious of the uncharacteristic silence since no one responds right away.

“What’s up? Nerves?”

“Nah, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Haechan speaks up in the most even toned manner any of them can manage. “Hey, quick question, y/n. How long have you been there?”

“Like two seconds. Why?”

“Hmm, no reason. I was just…” Haechan looks back at Jaemin with a devilish smirk. “... just wondering.”

You smile questionably with a furrowed brow. “Okay, well when you’re done ‘just wondering’ can you five come backstage so I can actually do the job I was hired for?”

“Oh, you mean the job that Jaemin got for you? That sure was nice of him, wasn’t it?”

You make eye contact with Jaemin for a second, taking notice of his new lip piercing, before he looks away. “Um, yeah, I guess?”

The band follows your lead, moseying over to the stage exit, and you turn your head, missing when Jaemin elbows the loud mouth in the gut.

─────────────────────

For Bad Dreams' first show of the tour, the company instructed the stage director that they wanted the band to make a splash and there’s no doubt in your mind that the band will do just that. The makeup artist, your new friend Yeri, rim their eyes with black eyeliner and applied subtle, smoky eye shadow on each of them. By the looks of their attire, plus the cosmetic touch ups that accentuated their most prominent features, you’re positive every person who lays eyes on the band, whether in person or through fan filmed videos, would surely be drawn to them for more reasons than their music.

They all possess that rebellious, dangerous, bad boy rock star vibe despite being some of the most caring and down to earth guys you have ever met. Although, admittedly, out of the five, one of them was on a whole nother level of irresistible.

Jaemin wears a high fashion, ridiculously expensive jacket thrown over a paper thin black muscle tee. He has on dark jeans, paired with loosely tied black boots. But the highlight of his look tonight is his new annoyingly distracting double loop lip ring, intentionally bringing more attention to his sweet red mouth by sucking on a cherry lollipop.

The only thing left to tie it all together is in your department. Through your employment with the company, you have grown to admire the lengths he’s gone to at times to try and get his way. He’s brought you beverages, praised you with endless compliments, paid for all of your food, offered to take you on what he calls “friend dates” like the kind he claims to have asked you out on the first evening you met.

Every time he has asked, you have declined, electing not to spend too much alone time with Jaemin. There have been a little over a half dozen times where you happened to be alone together and you don't dread them. You worry about how attached you could grow to him (and inside refuse to acknowledge that you already have grown quite attached). When it’s just you and Jaemin, those moments tend to be sincere and vulnerable and caring and you hate that you like it. You hate that you like it because it’s him.

So recently, you've made the effort to guarantee that at least a few other band members will be there. Whether it’s grabbing food, getting drinks, going to the movies or other concerts, he has practically fought to claim the seat or space next to yours.

It’s similar to the attention you feel like he expects from every girl he encounters. For better or for worse, you expect that attention from Jaemin on any given day that you see him on the job or off the clock.

The volume of that once immutable little voice in the back of your head that used to scream “No! Don’t trust him! Don’t fall for his charm! Don’t end up like the others eating out of the palm of his hand!” has become nothing but an echo as time has rolled on, dialed lower and lower the longer you have been around him and further silenced with every tiny “accidental” touch of his hand on your arm, shoulder, or waist.

It hurts your head to think about what would happen if you break that little policy of not getting involved with clients. After all, he is still kind of your client, right? He got you this job and his boss signs your paychecks, but then again, you still perform a service and, in return, receive payment for completing said service.

Some may consider you two coworkers, and if that’s the case, it is debatable whether that violates some other policy you should expediently draw up and write into your moral constitution as soon as you get some alone time.

The ambiguity of your relationship to each other has never been louder than the present and both of you can hear it ringing in your ears. The blurry, gray area between client and colleague, quick fuck and genuine friend has grown thicker while the time to clear the air ticks by.

Your mind races, calculating the unpredictability. Who knows how long Jaemin will be bending over backwards to treat you like a princess? In the period that you have known Jaemin, you have learned that he yo-yos between highs and lows quite frequently. When you take that trait of his into consideration, it is not too far-fetched to assume that he could wake up tomorrow and be done with you within the drop of a hat.

“Hey, we’ll be waiting for you out back. Try not to take too long with your hair and, you know… anything else,” Jeno tells him, peeping back into the small dressing room on his way out. He winks before closing the heavy door and leaving you two alone.

You giggle, noticing Jaemin throwing daggers at where the newly departed guitar player had been standing in the doorway. He pretends that he doesn’t feel his face and the back of his neck prickling with heat, but he can’t as easily hide his rosying cheeks when his best friend bid you adieu suggestively.

“Care to explain what that means, Jaemin?”

“Out back? Oh, sometimes a few of them like to smoke a little to calm the nerves before a set.” Jaemin gestures at the door nonchalantly. “Just one or two hits, no big deal. Not enough to mess with how we play.”

“Duly noted. But you know that’s not what I meant.”

You get to work with his hair, combing a few strands then curling them a certain way for a few seconds on low heat to keep the sculpted hair in place. The band has never performed a full set list of songs live and in concert since the time you have been styling their hair. You’re concerned about how well your handiwork and the hair product will be maintained as the sweaty, high spirited show progresses.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, I know, princess.” Jaemin tilts forward to toss the lollipop away in the small trash can under the vanity, leaving his mouth cherry tinted red.

You sigh at his laissez-faire attitude, nevertheless dropping it because you know pressing him for an answer won’t get you anywhere. Jaemin has never been the kind to share anything he doesn’t want to, leading you to believe this is not a superficial topic.

You’re slightly ashamed to admit it but eventually, after all the personal questions he threw at you about your life, in the vulnerable moments when it was just you and him, you’ve let loose most of the details from your upbringing, your childhood dreams and where you hope to see yourself in 10 years. This job is great and all, but in the grand scheme of things, you would like to be your own boss someday and have a popular salon much like the one he met you in.

You have come to terms with the fact that his engagement in a public setting is very lax and withdrawn. Although, in a different context, he’s all ears during one-on-one conversations with you and (for the most part) band discussions. Jaemin practices his good listening skills more often than you would like him to when it comes to just you and him conversing. He’s the one to ask questions and listen intently whereas when you broach the subject of his intimate details about him and his own life, he changes the topic.

“Nevermind then…” The room goes quiet for a moment as you ponder the answer he gave you instead of the truth.

“What’s on your mind, babe?”

“Babe?”

“Yes, princess?” Jaemin has that playful grin of his spread across his lips, predictably.

You roll your eyes, but fail to hide your smile. “Ugh, shut up. Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Why? What if I told you I like playing with you?” He raises an eyebrow and the grin morphs into a cocky smile.

His smiles are always different from yours, like he knows something you don’t. They vary on a daily sliding scale, representing how straightforward he will (or will not) be with his pickup lines or flirty zingers. Some of the most flirty are accompanied by a wink…which he gifts you 2 seconds after.

Typical Jaemin.

Always looking for another way to get under your skin with suggestive comments, and then subsequently, your clothes.

“Well then I’d say I don’t want to play any of your little games.”

“Hmm and why’s that? Afraid I’ll win?”

Yes.

Cotton mouthed and out of responses to his flirty remarks, you stall for time by purposely knocking over a can of hairspray that lands on your foot. Tonight, you unintentionally picked out a pair of boots that are relatively similar to Jaemin’s and thick enough to make it so a can of hairspray won’t hurt the top of your foot. Your outfit has the same amount of layers as his but when you got dressed, you didn’t account for how cold it would be backstage. The band would be performing and in the midst of a rock concert, their body temperatures would predictably be leaning towards the warmer side.

At first, when you stand up and Jaemin sees you shiver, he thinks your involuntary movement is owed to him. It takes him a moment to identify your reaction is temperature based and not from a lustful desperation flowing through you. He’s not exactly wrong in his assumption, but the frigid cold is a tad more apparent to your senses than the throbbing between your legs.

He springs up and slides his leather jacket off the back of the chair without second thought.

“Here, put this on.”

“Oh, no thank you, I’m good,” you respond before flicking your chin back at the chair. “Now, sit back down so I’m not blamed for making you late…please.”

“I’m not sitting down until you put on my jacket,” Jaemin pouts. “You’re obviously cold.”

You sigh again, this time with a slight frustration. “Come on, Jaemin. You’re being immature.”

“Not until you put on the jacket.” He folds his arms, holding his ground like a stubborn child. “Seriously, I’m fine. Don’t worry about m-”

Within the blink of an eye Jaemin quickly steps around you, holding the jacket open for you to slip into it. He makes eye contact with you in the reflection of the mirror like he has done countless times while you’re supposed to be concentrating on his hair and not falling for his alluring eyes.

“I’ll always worry about you.”

You hold your arms out wordlessly, feeling the butterfly wings in your abdomen flutter up in your chest as your heart grows warmer. The tiny acts of kindness and those moments when it feels like he truly cares about you are worth more than every cup of overpriced coffee he has ever purchased for you without asking your favorite order. After drink three he knew exactly what you wanted and depending on the weather, he would get you your favorite drink for the outside conditions because he knew your preferences so well.

I guess you could say he knows you so well.

“i-uh… thank you, babe,” you mumble mindlessly before realizing how you referred to him. Your eyes pop open in disbelief. “I mean Jaemin! Thank you, Jaemin.”

“Nope, no take-backsies! You said it yourself!” he sing-songs pleasantly.

Your mistaken term of endearment has a joy blossoming on Jaemin’s face that can only be compared to the moment you accepted the job offer he extended to you weeks ago.

He settles into the chair with a new found happiness that he hasn’t felt in months. It’s strange that one word made him light up like a christmas tree, one accidental word — and from a target, no less. Or someone who was supposed to be a target. But when he’s happy, he tends not to question it too much so as to not ruin the moment.

Jaemin knows all too well that true contentment is fleeting. Reality is cruel and brutal. Nothing lasts forever and no one knows what the future holds for us. Throwing around a word like “forever” with such certainty would only be done by someone naive enough to believe that those seven letters hold weight behind them.

Someone once made a promise to him, sealing their intimate bond with a short kiss. From there, it’s pretty easy to put two and two together and figure out that it was the word he resented most to this day. She had dragged him to a club overflowing with people, comparable to the one he rescued you from and it, too, had an abnormally rowdy crowd. They were at the bar, squished together because of how packed the place was. She was directly behind him when she leaned in close to his ear, whispering at a volume that prevented him from understanding the entire message. The only part he could catch over the pulsating music clogging the air was “-and forever” he turned his head just enough to get one last kiss from her – a kiss he didn’t realize was their last.

When he fully turned around, his first love, the person he envisioned marrying and having kids with and buying a house together that had a white picket fence, had already disappeared into the sea of sweaty bodies without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again. She completely ghosted him and he couldn’t find any way to get in contact with her again.

Nowadays, even if it’s someone he trusts more than anyone in the world, if they promise to do something and use the word forever, he automatically grows skeptical. It takes him a moment to rationalize that even if there are circumstances in which he needs to keep a watchful eye out for people he thinks may betray him, his bandmates don’t fall under that umbrella.

The promise of forever means nothing and the sooner you realize it, the better your chances are for warding off potential heartbreaks. As soon as a sense of fulfillment and pure joy is within your grasp, reality could yank it away within the blink of an eye.

You wish that it would work to hold what’s most valuable against your chest with all your might, whether that be a physical object or person, period in time, or sentimental, deep feeling in your bones. But unfortunately, there are incidents where someone might hold onto their single valuable too tight, squeezing it close for security purposes but with such increased pressure that it bursts.

Jaemin has been staring off into space for the last two minutes while you sculpt his tousled hair to perfection. He flinches away from where you’re standing, not realizing this whole time that you had been standing half in front of him and half to his left side, leaning forward.

It’s easier for you to lightly spray his hair from this stance and you were surprised he didn’t sense your presence so close to his before you first used the product in your hand.

“Do you smoke?” you curiously question the daydreamer out of nowhere. “You said they went out to smoke so I was wondering.”

“Uh…over the past two weeks, not as much,” Jaemin answers. By the tone in his voice, you’d bet big money that he’s holding back any follow up explanation on purpose. “I’m trying not to like multiple times a day like before.”

“hmm…why’s that?”

His eyes wander around the room, considering whether it is best to hold his tongue or share something about himself. He settles on trusting you for what he thinks is no particular reason. It's only fair to answer your question to the fullest extent since you have divulged so much of your life to him over the past few weeks.

“My mom. She-” Jaemin takes a short pause and you patiently wait for him to continue whenever he feels comfortable to do so. “-doesn’t want me to.”

You laugh briefly, interpreting it as a joke. “You still follow all your mom’s rules?”

“Well, I guess it’s not really a rule, she just worries about me a lot. And one of the things I can do to kind of give her some peace of mind is to quit smoking- or at a minimum, smoke less than before.” Jaemin shrugs like it is no big deal that he finally released some personal details about himself.

“Oh, um,” you clear your throat uncomfortably when he answers your playful question with an unexpectedly serious answer. “Sorry for laughing. Uh, so your family must mean a lot to you, yeah?” You withdraw your statement when you sense Jaemin’s hesitation to answer more of your curious, lighthearted interrogation trying to get to know him even the tiniest bit better. “Hey, I don’t mean to pry! It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”

You pivot away from him but he grabs your wrist gently. “It’s okay, y/n.” His lips prick up in a lopsided smile thinking about his family. “My family means everything to me. Everything I do, I do to support them. I’m determined to buy them a house nearby so they can live a little closer to me.”

“How often do you see them?”

A sorrowful sigh leaves his lips and you relax your hand to let him slip his fingers between yours. “I barely see them anymore. But I hope that changes when they move here into the city.”

You give his hand an encouraging squeeze to comfort him. “I’m sure you can make it work, Jaemin.”

It is safe to say that only a handful of people know these little things about the rock star’s private life which is why you can’t figure out why your name is being added to that exclusive list. They were mere morsels about his private life that he keeps guarded and close to his heart and he still shared them with you.

“I hope so.” He offers you a soft smile, looking up at you with only pure admiration swimming in his eyes, absent of the daily lust and raw desire he usually wears. Seemingly staring into your soul and yet you don’t feel uncomfortable about it.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind it in the slightest getting lost in them forever and ever.

“Jaemin! I’m sorry but we have to go!” Mark calls through the door urgently.

He tears his mesmerizing eyes from yours and raises his voice to project it through the door. “Just a minute!”

“Dude, I’ve already stalled 5 minutes for you! We need to go! Like, now!”

Jaemin looks back to you, but your body has curled away from his already, the intimate moment nothing more than a shriveled up fantasy he’s been imagining for far too long.

“You should go,” you tell him as you begin to pack up the rest of your things.

“Princess, i– ”

“Seriously, go. You shouldn't be late for the first concert of your first tour.”

“Y/n, look at me,” Jaemin says softly, trying to get your attention in the reflection of the mirror. Despite being pressed for time, he waits until he captures your eyes again.

“I don’t care about being late for you, y/n.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a few seconds then returning what he waited patiently for. “But I do. I do care, Jaemin. And I don’t want to make you late.”

“Will I see you at the after party?” He slightly pouts seeing your hesitant expression. “I really want you there.”

“I don’t know, I think–”

Jaemin steps around the chair and stands directly behind you to plead his case before you turn him down for good. He correctly guesses that he can silence you by pressing his body to yours. His bulge is hardening by the second protruding into your ass. To balance out the sexual nature of the moment, he slinks his arm under yours to slip his hand into yours.

“Please? It’s called The 127. And, lucky for us, it’s right across the street. The company rented the place for the night so it’s a private party…no one to try anything with you, I promise.”

“I’ll…” you start. It takes all your effort to suppress a moan when you part your lips and he grinds against you briefly. “...think about it.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there.” Jaemin smiles brightly and squeezes your hand. At last, he pulls away from you and opens the door, albeit, against his will.

“Hey, I didn’t say–”

“Wish me luck!” he says. Jaemin closes the door behind him only to yank it open and poke his head.

“What are you doing?! Go!”

“No, wait. Aren't you supposed to say something about my leg?”

You sigh heavily and roll your eyes. “Break a leg, Jaemin!”

He hums in approval, giving you a wink. “Thank you, princess.”

Jaemin leaves the dressing room excited for what’s to come (or should he say, who’s to come) later tonight, whereas you are left behind with an important decision to make and pulsating sexual frustration.

─────────────────────

You were previously acquainted with The 127’s neon green sign prior to your reluctant crossing of the street to the band’s after party. It is impossible to miss the huge letters, large enough to catch anybody’s attention during the day. After the sun has gone down, the borderline blinding fluorescent flashing draws late night enthusiasts like a moth to a flame.

The long line wraps around the corner of the club. You're vaguely familiar with club culture and feel underdressed standing next to people in designer clothes and girls in cocktail dresses from brands you can’t afford. Yeri loaned you some high heels to make your outfit look somewhat more glitzy, but after ten minutes, you regret accepting her offer.

“Name and ID card?” the lanky-bodied security guard recites for nearly the 400th time at The 127’s entrance. His bored eyes don’t leave the clipboard, awaiting whoever intends to join Bad Dreams' party inside to give their name so he can check the typed out sheet of paper listed with executives and famed members of the industry before physically seeing them. In his mind, it saves time, but in practice, it’s not the best idea.

“Jisung, you’ve known me for over 6 weeks.”

His head pops up. “Oh, y/n! Sorry, I still have to ask the people that aren’t on the VIP list no matter what and I was told I'd be fired even if it was my mom.”

“Fired? Seriously?”

The boy who was hired specifically because he was tall, despite lacking a single intimidating bone in his body, looks down at the board again. “Shit, I forgot Jaemin put you on the VIP list.”

“He did?”

“Hurry the fuck up, bitch!” some guy barks from the sea of people waiting to be let into the party.

“Language, Jisung!” a voice scolds him.

He flinches when Jaemin appears out of thin air by his side. The drummer had been hovering just past the entrance at the top of the staircase, hoping you would actually show up after the sold out concert. Coming down the stairs from a different perspective, he had seen what the rude man looked like unlike you and the younger security guard.

Jaemin holds out his hand and you hesitate for a moment. “Come on, hurry the fuck up, princess,” he mocks the man quietly so only you and Jisung can hear it. His charming smile returns to his face when you give in and clasp it in his hand. Jisung unlatches the velvet leash, receiving a detailed description of the man brazen enough to yell something so crude at you, and is given instruction to refuse the man entry no matter how high up or important he claims to be in the company, or the entire industry, for that matter.

Jaemin leads you up the stairs and into the afterparty. The club doesn’t play rock like the band does; instead it blasts electrifying edm music, thumping so powerfully that the club itself quakes. Your heart beats rapidly, pounding through your chest, as the music rumbles through you. It has a bass that pumps the clubbers up for nothing in particular but to dose them with an elated feeling on the dance floor. Lively hordes of people occupy the spacious lower level, swaying and grinding on each other to the intoxicating music. Even sober individuals experience what mimics true inebriation in the middle of a boisterous throng of clubbers.

The massive double-floored club has what you count to be five separate VIP lounges on the top floor, similar to Neo Bar but clearly more exclusive and costly. Each posh VIP area flaunts luxurious furnishing with four cushioned, crescent-shaped couches and two circular tables in the middle of them. Strip of LED lights, controllable by remote, ring the secluded spaces and the tables. Most importantly, each individual space has a canopy hanging overhead and curtains close around the whole area if someone wants privacy for whatever reason.

The air is ripe with lust and promiscuity and you catch Jaemin looking at you like pure fruit ready to be picked from the vine when you arrive at one of the premier lounges. His eyes are glossy with a look of longing.

“Have you been drinking?” you ask cautiously once you sit down.

Jaemin takes a seat next to you. Maybe it’s the fact that the wide couches here give you more space but where Jaemin sits is not as close to you as the last alcohol distributing establishment and you have mixed feelings about that. “Me? No, I don’t really drink.”

“Oh, I feel like…” You look at the ceiling trying to recall something.

“You feel like what?” Jaemin asks.

“I feel like I remember that for some reason.”

Jaemin clears his throat and ignores your statement. “So do you want me to get you something to drink? I promise I won’t drug you.”

Your eyes bounce around the noisy place in search of potential danger instead of laughing at what Jaemin phrases like a joke. “No, I’d rather stay sober this time. Sober sounds...safe tonight.”

Looking noticeably wary, Jaemin gets to his feet to close the curtains and block your view of the club. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, trust me.” He takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to place the most tender of kisses on your knuckles. You feel the metal of the new piece of jewelry on his lower lip touch your skin.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, when did you get your lip pierced? I saw you yesterday morning so did you go last night or this morning or something?”

“Hmm, very observative, princess. I went last night but I feel like not many people have pointed it out… have you been staring at my lips often?”

“Hm, not as much as you stare at mine.”

“So you admit it.”

“What?”

“You do stare at my lips,” Jaemin catches your slip up, smiling triumphantly.

You roll your eyes and try to play it off. “Well, um, why does it matter if I look at your lips? Especially right now! Because I’m just wondering if your lip ring gets in the way of eating or, you know, like, kissing or something.”

“I can eat and drink perfectly fine, but thanks for your concern, it means a lot,” Jaemin replies, putting his hand over her chest like he was sincerely touched. “As for kissing, I don’t know. When would I have had the time to hook up with someone since then?”

“Oh, right, right. I didn’t think about that.”

Your eyes bounce around the closed off, private booth, searching far and wide for distractions in the relatively small place. Despite your efforts though, your eyes find his lips again.

“Do you want to find out with me?”

“What, find out if your lip piercing gets in the way?” You gulp.

“M’hmm. You’re the only one I want for it. Will you help me?”

You bite your own bottom lip, silent and still as stone for a moment before nodding a tiny bit. Jaemin slowly inches himself out of the slumped position he was sitting in. His dilated pupils are trained on your mouth like they always tend to be when you two are within this close of proximity. You follow his pace, leaning in closer to his face, drawn to his lips and the thought of how amazing it must feel to have the taste of heaven on your tongue.

Gravitating towards each other is natural, a magnetic pull that you were resisting, afraid you would be stuck on him if he left you for some other girl. You both close your eyes, bracing for the highly anticipated impact…that doesn’t happen as misfortune strikes for the second time tonight.

Alas, the world has other plans, and this untimely wrench in Jaemin’s plan comes in the form of nasally voices from whiny, obsessive, radically invasive teenage girls yapping shamelessly through the blood red curtains.

“Jaemin? Jaemin! Hi! Can we please get your autograph?!”

“Yeah, pretty, pretty please!”

“Sorry for bothering you, we’re just, like, totally your biggest fans!”

You jerk back as if you had seen a ghost, petrified by the thought of what it could have meant for you two if there wasn’t a disruption.

Did you want there to be a disruption?

Jaemin irritatedly snaps his tongue as he storms across the small space to stop their assault of the curtains surrounding the you guys for privacy by their persistent, aggressive shaking back and forth to get his attention.

If you based your assumption on how he would speak to them solely on his facial expressions when he got up, you might have expected him to yell at the crazed fans who snuck inside not only the after party but the VIP section as well. You should have known that that isn’t who he is.

How well do you believe you know Jaemin anyways?

He looks back at you as if asking for your permission to step outside of the curtains and you gesture for him to go with a smile like you’re not feeling wary of his character. There is a good chance that it is just paranoia since you feel nervous being in a place like this again and you don’t want to be left alone. He’ll be back soon though so you shouldn’t be alone for very long.

You know Jaemin has more than a few tricks up his sleeve but, based on how enthralled the trespassers had been from simply breathing the same air as him, it’s clear that he could do the literal bare minimum. They hang onto his every word like they will need to recite it by heart when they leave – if they ever leave at all.

He has a wide collection of ways he can select from his arsonal of charms. To name a few, starting off at the basic, beginners level, these techniques vary from flashing his pearly whites, sweet talking in either a compassionate or suggestive tone, and skinship with light touches here or there to make them think of his fingers on (and in) other places of their bodies.

The unhinged girls begin taking frantic pictures with him the second Jaemin steps through the curtain. Taking turns amongst themselves with who holds their belongings, who is taking the pictures and who gets to be by his side.

Jaemin stands there awkwardly, knowing they want more from him but quickly deciding that you were more important than taking his 50th picture with any of them. He holds his hand up to say goodbye but before he can return to the VIP space with you, a strict hand catches his wrist to stop him forcefully.

You haven’t the faintest clue what’s going on outside and that the person who caught his wrist meant serious business. You scroll through twitter, becoming engrossed in threads that usually pose no interest to you but that’s how badly you want to be distracted. The time in which Jaemin has been gone feeds your growing skepticism so you get up to go and peek through the curtains at what is taking him so long.

The person who had grabbed Jaemin’s wrist beforehand was gone. And so are the girls.

And so is Jaemin.

You slip through the curtains to investigate, but it doesn’t take a genius detective to find where they had run off to. Jaemin is sitting on the couch three VIP spaces done from yours, in the same exact place he had been in with you. But you're not the one sitting next to him, it was the three girls from before. They curl up around his body, one girl on either side and one straddling his lap. The two girls at his sides have their cleavage signed with his autograph and you can only assume that the one on top of him does too. You spot some sleazy photographer taking pictures of them from afar and you almost go and stop him but don’t have it in you to care right now.

Mark happens to be walking by when he sees you. “Hey, y/n! How’s it go-” He stops in his tracks and you both momentarily stare at the scene in shock.

And there you have it. The answer to your previous question.

You know who he is – or you knew who he is, as in past tense. Your past self knew him but the person you became, the person you are today, wanted to see further than that with which you saw on day one.

You were afraid of becoming another victim to the serial heartbreaker yet ignored every sign because you wanted to feel wanted. It’s sad that you had to be reminded by being a first hand witness to him hooking up with three girls at once.

Happening right before your very eyes, you immediately question how he could so easily revert back to his ways when the opportunity arises but you correct yourself. He can’t revert back to something if he never changed in the first place. Old habits die hard.

Disappointment and regret swallow you whole. You should have known this was coming. The moment he exposed his true nature once again, even after the vulnerability he expressed to you; even after disarming you of all hesitancy for letting him into your life; even after stealing all those intimate moments with you when you were alone together, the ones that lasted a mere few seconds but felt like an eternity.

There was always an ulterior motive that you were too blinded by a foolish longing to see.

This is not the first time you’ve been burned for wearing your heart on your sleeve. You thought you had learned your lesson the last time, swearing from that point on that you will lock your heart up in an iron chest and hide away the key until someone truly worthy of your affections comes along.

[ Enter Jaemin ]

The boy you instantly identified as danger in a leather jacket, trouble with a capital T, swoon-worthy charm embedded in his DNA and three things on his mind: music, getting high and sex.

Despite intending to heed the warnings of his past leftovers, you personally stitched a bright red heart into the vulnerable material on your arm – cherry red, just like his favorite flavor.

You bear the brunt of this fucked up situation. You’ve been a chew toy for him to chase for weeks now, probably for him to pass the time and entertain or distract himself, since he doesn’t particularly like leaving the house in the day-time without good reasoning. For someone so introverted and radio silent amongst most strangers, Jaemin can surely pull off a convincing personable attitude when he puts in the effort. Eventually, at some point along the way, his efforts dedicated to breaking you down began to work more effectively than you care to admit.

You watch Jaemin lounging on his mock throne, charming the trio of younger fans and being worshiped like a sex god, for what might as well be forever. You finally tear your eyes away from the inappropriate physical display when one of the girls grabs his face and forcibly pulls him into a kiss.

The one that was supposed to be your kiss.

You were supposed to be the first girl to feel the metal of his new lip ring on your lips. So much for “You’re the only one I want for it.”

Mark asks if you want him to accompany you across the street to pack up your styling tools and belongings but you politely decline. Your lungs sting, suffocating on the atmosphere's smoky lust that drives people to make bad decisions, and maybe, like in Jaemin's case, just show their true colors.

Adrenaline sends you hurdling to the club entryway alone, more alone than you’ve felt in a really long time. You expect Jisung to be at the front, manning his post per usual. You're kind of hoping to talk to him about the whole situation. Finding out that he's absent is just another example that proves to you that life is disappointing and you shouldn't be surprised something you wanted ultimately didn't work out.

You stumble out of the building onto the empty sidewalk in front of The 127. Kicking off your high heels, it occurs to you that you didn't even feel that your feet had been hurting the entire time you were in the club. You were too immersed in the moments, the good and alternatively, the bad and ugly.

Your cheeks are no stranger to tears when it comes to relationships. Wiping your nose with the back of your hand that Jaemin kissed, you question if this...whatever you have with him even falls under the category of relationship in any way, shape or form. If only you had left things as they were before, no complications with the messy feelings or worrying about if he was fucking other girls. You wouldn’t be crying if you had only trusted your gut from the very start. You wouldn’t be in pain, nor would you have been torturing yourself for putting yourself in harms way like you are right now.

It's devastating to know that it turns out your heart isn’t as durable as you thought it was this time around. At the end of every heart break, you pick up the shards of broken glass that encased your fantasy of true love. You’ve thrown yourself into relationships, loving madly and deeply too fast and having your expectations held far too high for what the future holds with you and your significant other.

Perhaps you have no clue what true love is; therefore, making whatever it is you're searching for impossible. If you knew what true love is you wouldn’t have imagined a future where Jaemin’s name just might have pricked the surface of your definition.

It was a pitiful, pathetic, naive runaway idea that you wish you could drown in a river of your tears.

─────────────────────

“What-” Jaemin takes his fifth deep breath within the last half hour. He rubs both of his blood shot eyes with the heels of his palms, red from frustration and borderline tearing up instead of relapsing and being high. “What did she see, Mark?”

“Dude, like the entire thing. You weren’t exactly being subtle about that shit you were doing!”

“That was the point!” Jaemin waves his hands erratically as if the theatrics today in the first hotel they’ll be staying at of the tour will save you from misunderstanding the situation last night. “And you didn’t defend me at all?!”

“No?! How was I supposed to know that the company was, like, going to forcibly make you look like Bad Dreams' party animal playboy to keep up the reputation, huh? No one told me about that!”

Mark looks around at the rest of the band who share similar expressions to the leader. Jaemin flops down in the chair adjacent to Mark who's sitting on the second queen bed, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Jeno stands up to go sit next to the inconsolable drummer. “Jaemin, they didn’t tell any of us that they were going to ask you to-”

“Force. I think the word you’re looking for is force, not ask."

“-okayyy, going to force you to hang around those girls and make it look like you were drinking and going to hook up with them.”

“It shouldn’t have mattered if they told you or not! You guys know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t do that!”

“Jaemin, I can’t even count the number of times I’ve seen you in that position or something like it with two hands," Haechan inserts.

“Hey, don’t act like you haven’t done the same thing!"

“I haven’t done something like that since I got a girlfriend months ago!”

Jaemin gets to his feet and gestures at Haechan. “Exactly! A girlfriend! Why would I do something like that if I had y/n?”

“Had y/n? You literally told us-” Renjun checks his watch for the time, calculating the number of hours since the band’s last discussion involving Jaemin’s behavior. “-21 hours ago you claimed you didn’t even like her!”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I never said I didn’t like y/n.”

“So you do like y/n then?" Mark pressures him for the answer he's apprehensive to broach in his mind just yet.

“I- well, um, y-you know, can we not talk about this right now?”

Haechan climbs onto one of the two queen mattresses and pulls the comforter to his chin. “I agree! Be quiet and let me nap or my voice will suck tonight!”

The band disperses and Mark pulls Jaemin aside to talk to him in the hotel hallway. “Look, man, I’m sorry I didn’t stop y/n. Let me try and talk to her, okay?”

“What could you possibly say to y/n that would make her change her mind?”

Mark shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, I’ll think of something. But you should give her some space until after the concert. ”

Jaemin sighs, again. “Okay, fine.”

─────────────────────

When Mark knocks on your hotel room door and says it’s something serious, Yeri leaves the room to give you and Mark some privacy.

You expect him to be checking up on you after seeing how distraught you were last night but you haven’t exactly been the best judge of character. He shares Jaemin’s side of the story, where the man who Jaemin told Jisung not to let in was a big time CEO of some foreign broadcasting service you’re not familiar with, and when Jisung was interrogated about who told him not to let such an important figure inside, they threatened to fire him. Jisung really needed this job, he admitted it was Jaemin.

The company had been looking for a reason to stir up some gossip with the band again with their second album release and the tour. Jaemin is known for being a womanizer, sculpting himself a reputation amongst the industry and the fans. They didn’t want him to change. The bad boy heart breaker role was his position in the band.

When he said no, they threatened to cancel the whole tour because if the band wasn’t meeting the company’s revenue quota, the band would be put on the furthest back burner he can imagine. Basically, he was told that the band is expendable. If he wanted to make up for his mistake, he would stir up some publicity and garner attention to the band, ergo making the company more money in the long haul.

You hear him out before giving him your interpretation of the sequence of the events and how with Jaemin it feels like he has always been emotionally distant, leading you on with meaningful conversations and then pulling a 180, returning back to the fuck boy you pegged him as.

Jaemin is never going to change. You need to stop pretending like you can save him from the shameless egotistical persona that he let consume him from top to bottom along the course of his time as a cocky artist. Even if Mark claims that he wasn’t always like this, you provide a detailed analysis for him to understand why it shouldn’t be your job to put him back together if you’re only hurting yourself in the process. Nowhere in your employee contract does it say “revive Jaemin’s frozen heart.” You weren’t hired to fix him.

Never having been in a relationship, or anything that even resembled a relationship, Mark didn’t have much to offer except one observation. “Dude, you know what? I’ve never seen such bad miscommunication between two people before you and Jaemin.

You roll your eyes and continue talking like he didn't just say something that’s going to keep you up at night. Mark knows it’s not his place to force his opinions on you, especially because he’s biased to the person you dread working with. All he can convince you of is talking to Jaemin after the concert today.

“What’s the harm in, like, one talk, y/n? At the very least, you’ll get closure and tell him never to talk to you again…what do you think, man? You in?”

You start at your shoes, deep in thought. You have been trying to convince yourself he doesn’t matter until eventually, at some point in time, you’ll fall for it and be tricked into getting over him. The opportunity for closure sounds like a good place to start. Reset your feelings for Jaemin to factory settings – he’s just a client, not even coworkers because he’s not on par with where you stand.

“One talk. That’s it.”

─────────────────────

You underestimated how difficult it would be doing Jaemin’s hair when all he does is stare at you and watch every move you make observantly. To ensure that Jaemin leaves the dressing room as soon as possible and doesn’t say a peep to you during his turn, you do his hair first so that the rest of the band is there with you two.

As appealing as it sounds to remove yourself from the situation and put at least a mile between you and the sex addict, you can’t do that right now. You have a job to do and you intend on carrying out your duties diligently, no matter if you’ve started to silently wish that you had the ability to snap your fingers and teleport out of the room right now.

There's a vague sense of guilt weighing on your shoulders, reflecting on how ungrateful of your position it sounds when admitting you wish you could disappear into thin air. It would be wildly irresponsible to abandon your obligation to that one specific band member with no notice given to a single soul, all because of personal qualms.

You feel relatively lucky to have been given this opportunity to work in the big leagues. Through networking at the company, you have met other stylists and received pointers on things you hadn’t thought of before. Beauty school was one thing, but being a hairdresser turned stylist was a little daunting at the start. Learning from the big names in the styling business has been a privilege.

In contrast to that chunk of positive energy embodying “luck” and “hope” there’s a larger part of you that doesn’t think you deserve the praise, skeptical about how you got the job in the first place. You consider yourself a good hair stylist but, honestly, if it wasn’t for Jaemin, you never would have encountered a chance to join a company like this, a stepping stone to gain experience on your own personal journey to pursuing your dreams.

You need to remind yourself that you are working towards that. Your own dreams and the trajectory of your life are at stake. There’s no question about whether you would leave the company and undergo the tedious process of early contract termination. You would endure far worse than the insufferable playboy that you have foolishly grown to trust and more foolish than that, grown to L- ugh… do you have to say it?

Maybe if you don’t say the L word or even think about the L word the budding feeling would flicker and fade into the darkness of discarded feelings and devastating heart breaks faster than the average-joe, run of the mill tragedy.

When you are finished with your duties and the band has left the room one by one, you sit down in the chair that they had each occupied. You spin around twice, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Opening your eyes you see Jaemin’s reflection standing beside you. He was so quiet you didn’t even hear him open the door.

“My hair is already starting to fall and I was hoping you could fix this front part? There are a few hairs that are a little in the way,” he pleads cautiously. You don’t answer him, picking up your phone and your small bag. You have to come back here later anyways so you leave the hair supplies scattered across the vanity desk. He steps further into the room, nearly in the middle and actually giving you some space. “Please?”

You turn back to look at him one last time. You almost fall for his act, like every other performance he has put on with the express purpose of charming his way into getting what he wants at that moment in time. You’d like to say you resisted his spell a majority of time, but you know that there have been too many times when you were bewitched by his alluring eyes and focused on his sweet mouth to claim that that statement was true.

You don’t want to stick around but you promised Mark you would talk to Jaemin after the show and you can’t go back on a promise. Some people have standards, unlike Jaemin, you believe.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t do that yourself as an excuse to see me again before we talk after the show. Besides, it looks fine that way, just leave it alone.” You step through the doorway and do what Jaemin did two days ago, poking your head back in. “Oh, forgot. I hope you break your leg for real this time,” you say to him in a chipper tone, giving him a two second long fake smile.

“Oh, yeah, princess? Well I hope-” Jaemin starts although you flee the scene before he can finish. “Fuck…so that’s what that feels like.”

─────────────────────

The second concert of the tour is even more lively than the first. You were slightly worried Jaemin would appear downcast during the show because of what you said to him but he was even more energetic than the night before.

Much, much after the encore has ended, you find yourself sitting across from Jaemin in the dressing room, him on the couch and you perked on the vanity. You regret saying something so petty right before leaving him alone in the dressing room and internally debate whether or not you should apologize. Being the bigger person, you decide to admit your faults like an honest, responsible, mature adult – or at least more mature than him.

You take a deep breath, putting the kettle on the burner in your mind. You patiently await the brewing of your potential verbal match, blowing its whistle and commencing the aggressive game. “So…”

Jaemin looks up at you after having been staring at your shoes in complete and utter silence for ten minutes. “So…”

“I’m sorry for saying I wish that you broke your leg. I just feel…hurt, I guess? And I kind of want you to be in pain...like me.”

Jaemin’s face goes through a rainbow of emotions before landing on blue. “Hurt because of, um, me?”

You snap your tongue. “Yeah? Obviously it's about you.” He’s quiet for five seconds so you lead him in the right direction. “Jaemin, this is where you say sorry for hurting me.”

“I am sorry! I didn’t really think you needed to hear it though. Like, it happened but it was out of my control, okay? I’m sorry you saw that.”

“Sorry I 'saw that' huh? So you’re not sorry for doing it, is that what you’re telling me?”

Jaemin rubs his temples and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry for hurting you, y/n. I’m sincerely sorry…look, I know you don’t trust me and I don’t really know how else to do it at the moment. Ask a question, any question at all, and I will tell you what you want to know.”

“Hmm, okay. Is it true that you’ve hooked up with a girl backstage at every concert venue?” you press him, failing to ward off the rational course of action and let it lie, ignoring its existence for better peace of mind. You don’t know what answer you’re hoping to hear.

“You heard our conversation yesterday and lied about it? Look who’s the liar now.”

You huff and tighten your hold the edge of the vanity in frustration. “That’s not an answer. Is it true that you’ve hooked up with a girl backstage at every concert venue? Yes or No?”

“Why? Are you volunteering, princess?”

“Ugh, you are unbelievable,” you scoff.

“What? It’s a legitimate question about volunteering.”

“Well you don’t get to ask any ‘legitimate questions.’ My question was a simple yes or no question to try and get me to trust you and you can’t even answer the very first one.”

Jaemin sighs and looks up at you with puppy eyes. “I was only trying to make you laugh, y/n.”

“No, it was a cheap attempt at trying to make me all flustered and I'm not falling for it anymore. Go find one of those girls you humped in public yesterday. I’m sure they’d looove to volunteer.”

“You’re the one that asked! Why are you thinking about me fucking someone anyways? You jealous or something?”

“Why on earth would I be jealous of some poor girl that you’re going to forget the name of the next day after you hookup?”

“Because you almost kissed me yesterday!”

“Wow! The first girl you will remember the name of! Tell me, how do you contact all your nameless sexual partners about if you ever test positive for an std? Or do you not get tested because you don’t care?” You jump down and pace in front of him.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I regularly check to make sure I’m clean. Actually, a few days before we met, I was confirmed clean.” Jaemin gets to his feet and stands in front of the door, watching your pace with frustrated feet.

“So? That was two months ago. You could’ve contracted something in that time and not know it.”

“No, I’m clean. I know I’m clean.”

“There’s no way you could know if you haven’t been tested! What part of that don’t you understand?” you practically yell.

“I know because I haven’t been with anyone since I met you, y/n!”Jaemin raises his voice to be just above your volume and if anyone were outside the door they would certainly have heard it.

You open and close your mouth, at a near loss for words. You look to your right and your hands fidget with the dozen styling tools on the vanity. There isn’t a single comb out of place but all of a sudden, their placement is your #1 top concern, not the conversation nor the attractive speaker. “Okaaay? And? Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Argh!” Jaemin lets out a heavy, calmer sigh. “I’m supposed to mean something to you.”

“Why?” You spin around to face the play boy who had the audacity to suggest you owe him your undivided attention. “Because you mean something to every other girl? Is that it?”

“God, y/n! No, it’s because you mean something to me, okay!?”

You both stare at each other for a moment after the revelation. Jaemin looks almost as surprised as you do to have burst out something he hadn’t fully processed for himself.

He had seen you storm off last night after seeing him and the crazed fans. Before seeing your crestfallen expression, he’d never experienced any resemblance of guilt or shame about his nightly activities – or at least for a really long time – and yet since seeing your face, it’s been gnawing away at him from the inside out.

That’s how he knew you were truly more to him.

Never has he reflected on his actions for very long, instead quickly moving on and indulging in the pleasure of those who volunteered to be used next. He’s never had a problem finding a new toy and letting off some steam with whomever it was that ended up ensnared in his bewitching trap.

It’s all about the chase for Jaemin, zeroing in on his target like a predator to its prey. Although, there have been very few times in which he has been on the prowl for more than two weeks and he can’t figure out why you’re any different. Jaemin is known to be selective about which challenges he pursues and which challenges he blows off, deeming them of no importance. The “challeges” having to do with potential fuck dolls are usually a breeze, taking them to bed being a walk in the park for him. This explains why he is so fascinated by those who resist his charm, finding the most interesting girls to be stubborn, headstrong, and iron-willed and you checked off all those boxes ten times over.

Whereas it bothered the hell out of Jaemin to not have you under his spell since first acquaintance to practically an eternity later in comparison to those other challenges, that might you add, he always eventually overcame, for once his hubris got him somewhere, not someone.

A place where he feels something that he has neglected for years all because he didn’t want another “forever” to be whispered in his ear by a girl that disappears into the wind the next second. He used to consider himself a romantic but only now is it that he feels he can articulate his affections again without regret or the fear of vulnerability after intricately tangling one’s heart strings with another.

“I think…fuck. I know you won’t believe me but you mean so much more to me than you could ever imagine.”

Jaemin takes a deep breath, preparing to admit out loud something that his mind pretends he hasn’t been doing on a daily basis because it conflicts with who he is supposed to be.

“Every dandelion I blow away, every shooting star I intentionally look for at night, every four leaf clover I search for in the grass for luck and every time the clock hits 11:11, I wish for you. I wish that you were mine – ”

“Jaemin, how many times have we been over this? I don’t belong – to – any – one.”

“I know you don’t, y/n.... and that’s one of the things I love most about you. Your strong sense of self, your confidence, your iron will and your fierce independence.” He comes closer to you and takes one of your hands in both of his. He clasps your hand delicately, like the last sparse snowflakes falling from the sky in the first week of Spring.

You look up into his dreamy eyes before ripping your hand out of his. “What about those girls from yesterday, huh? What are your top three favorite qualities from them?”

“God, it’s all an act! It’s like a role I play! How many times do I have to try and tell you this? I don’t fucking care about every other girl I meet! They’re just fans or acquaintances that I treat with the same behavior! I’ll flirt and charm them into believing what they want to hear and, yes, I was terrible with ending things with the girls that I got with once or twice or had a week long relationship with; but it was different, and I… I was different. And that was before you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you, Jaemin? How do I know that you didn’t say the same thing to every other girl you want to fuck? When you say that I’m ‘the only girl,’ I have no reason to believe you.”

Jaemin sighs, almost defeatedly. “I thought I’d given you several reasons to trust me.”

“You didn’t even answer my first question that was from a little game you came up with for me to learn how to trust you more!”

“Well, I got you out of that club when you had been drugged and –”

“Yeah, after you stalked me there.”

“You’re one of two girls on this planet that I’ve talked to about my family."

You snap your tongue. “How am I supposed to believe that? It could easily be another lie to add to your collection.”

“Fuck…what about all our intimate moments where it felt like it was just you and me and we were the only ones in the universe because everything else faded away. Where we were vulnerable and honest and –”

“You could’ve used those same moments and repeated all the same lines to make them think that they were special to you too. You just said how you charm girls into believing what they want to hear and they wanted you to care about them and you faked those deep, intimate moments to get what you wanted. And what was so different about me? I wanted this so badly that it hurts. I don’t know when it happened but seemingly out of nowhere, I wanted you to think of me as more than just a quick fuck and then I wanted to believe you’d changed because you were soft and I did feel those moments when it was just you and me and no one else in the universe existed but– argh! I can’t put into words how it felt to see you with all those girls at the after party. You were the same –”

“Princess, it was just acting! I was playing a –!”

“No, don’t you dare ‘princess’ me, Jaemin. And don't cut me off,” you snap. “You’re the one who asked ‘can we talk?’ So, please, let me talk.”

Jaemin can feel the threat of stinging tears emerging in his eyes, so much of the waterworks’ impetus being the desperation threaded through your tone. “I’m sorry…go on.”

You take a deep breath and pick up from where you left off. “The closest thing I can think of to how it felt seeing you with those girls fawning over you and you just eating it up, letting them take turns sitting on your lap and feeding you by hand and kissing your neck and…you were having the time of your life while I stood there with Mark and watched. And that was when I finally went up in flames…

When you first walked into the salon two months ago, I knew that you were trouble. I knew your reputation because I heard all the girls gossip about you constantly. I knew getting tangled up with you was playing with fire and getting burned, sooner or later, was almost guaranteed; yet I voluntarily lit the matches – I lit so many fucking matches that eventually I was carrying a torch for you that I never imagined I’d lift for anyone, let alone a guy like you. And in that moment, it slipped from my hand and fell at my feet and the fire that I willingly started engulfed me from the bottom up.” You gulp and wipe your soggy cheeks. “So here I am now, blistered, charred and still smoking with regret… and I never wanna go near fire again.”

You avert your eyes because you can’t stand to see tears rimming his waterline. Examining the dressing room that’s probably home to hundreds, if not thousands, of wonderful memories tied to these four cream painted walls but all you can see is a bare and desolate dressing room that you're stuck in with him and a boatload of feelings you never wanted to scratch the surface of. Even if Jaemin is standing right behind you, you feel alone.

“You have some of the worst trust issues ever. But wanting to be independent and not rely on anyone too much out of fear of getting burned isn’t independence, it’s isolation.”

You scoff, shaking your head at the irony. “Well, it takes one to know one.”

“Hey, I’m trying here. I thought that you knew that? If I could have any wish come true I would want you to have stayed an extra 5 seconds at the party to see me push her off and go after you. I’m tired of the isolation and I’m tired of pretending to be someone that I’m not… when I went running after you I wanted us, together doing the most mundane, average coupley things. It could be literally anything on the planet and I’d have the time of my life being with you, holding your hand, wrapping my arms around you when you’re cold and giving you my leather jacket too. And I don’t want to hide any of it out of fear that the fans would like me less. I would still do it even if some of them created a petition to have me thrown out of the band… I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m so, so incredibly, sincerely sorry and I don’t know what else to do here except…”

Jaemin spares no time tossing his old playbook out the window. He closes the gap between you two, cupping your jaw with both hands, leaning in and bringing your lips to meet in the middle. A fuzzy static numbs your body, mobility defective for a moment, his touch frying your nerves and causing your eyes to pop open widely. Within seconds of the initial shock setting in, you willingly part your lips and let his tongue slip inside your mouth.

Your heart swells, falling victim to what feels like a classic silver screen kiss, romantic and passionate enough to inspire anyone else’s longing for their own other half to show up.

You yelp when he hoists your body up without warning and sits you down on the surface of the vanity desk that isn’t crowded by cosmetic products and styling tools. You instinctively part your thighs for him to slot his body in between your legs and you loop your arms around his neck.

Jaemin caresses the undersides of your thighs and slowly slides his hands further in the direction of your ass. You shift your weight back onto your palms so your upper torso is pressed to the mirror, scooting your lower body closer to the edge for his hard bulge to grind against your covered pussy with better accessibility. Reaching your ass, he squeezes handfuls of your skin and manipulates how you roll your hips exactly how he likes it.

You don’t remember grinding on him accidentally last week but since that momentary arousal, Jaemin has specifically fantasized about you grinding on him and getting yourself off. That idea will have to be saved for another day though. For your first time together, he wants to spoil you. He doesn’t want you to move a finger, just relax and take everything he gives you, appreciative of his efforts.

He hooks his fingers on your belt loops and you lift your hips up from the vanity desk to assist him wrangle your jeans down your legs. He’s determined to remove your remaining clothes in record time, impatient to get you naked since day #1. He yanks the zipper down the thick, dark chocolate jacket you wore this evening with knowledge of how chilly it can get backstage and you refuse to wear anything of Jaemin's, especially his leather jacket, again because you hated him – or at least that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of. Jaemin grabs the bottom hem of your thin long sleeved shirt, and you raise your arms up for him to whip it over the top of your head.

His mouth returns to yours momentarily, distracting you by trailing wet kisses down your neck and nipping at your earlobe while his hands snake around your back. You squeak, suddenly feeling your bra pop open behind you as the metal clasps are undone masterfully. The stretchy straps are hanging off your shoulders one moment, the next thing you know, the article of clothing he viewed as a material barrier from his hands is flung across the dressing room.

Whereas Jaemin remains fully dressed, he leaves you in only your socks and underwear. Every time you try to reach out and undress him, he gives your hands a light slap to deter you from trying again. After your third attempt, you get the message and give up on that mission.

Your bare ass sits on the cool surface of the vanity and goosebumps appear on your thighs. You sit with your knees pressed together and your arms crossed over your chest to hide your breasts. His gaze is polished with lust, giving your body a once over, pride swelling naturally.

Finally, You're here. And he has you in the palm of his hand. Jaemin smiles, licking the corner of his lips more often than he would regularly (almost 2x as much really) since he knows you think it’s hot.

“What?” you ask him quietly, finally meeting his eyes after averting them when your pants were first removed. Your face is angled at the ground and you peer up at him through your eyelashes timidly.

“I didn’t expect my baby to be so shy,” he comments as he closes in on you.

“i-i’m not shy,” you lie through your teeth. “I’m just cold.”

“Hmm, it’s a good thing I know how to warm you up then,” Jaemin says. He clasps his hands around your wrists and you let him unfold your arms without a struggle. He pins you to the cool mirror behind you and attacks your skin with open mouthed kisses, his frenzied lips meeting your skin and getting to work kissing your newly exposed skin. His mouth trails from your jawline, down the side of your neck, across your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts. Noticing that you watch every move of his, he smirks against your skin.

“Tell me how good this feels on a scale of 1-10,” he instructs you, surveying your facial expressions as well.

His tongue skims the perimeter of your nipple slowly, barely making contact with it before engulfing the bud in his warm mouth softly. You hum blissfully. “Um, 7.”

“Only a 7, huh?” he mumbles before beginning to flick his tongue back and forth on your nipple. He slides your wrists to meet together over your head, securing both of your wrists against the mirror with one hand. His free hand palms your neglected breast, massaging it with mild pressure.

“8… .5.”

“Interesting, interesting,” he muses.

“What is?”

“How rough you like it. Or at least what your limit is.” Jaemin raises his hand to your mouth. “Baby, say ‘ahhh’ for me.” You eagerly part your lips to suck on his pointer and middle fingers for him. “I don’t want to ruin you or use you like my little fucktoy if you’re not ready for it,” Jaemin tells you, tone simultaneously intimidating and sincere. “I don’t want to scare you off.”

He lets you suck for another few seconds before pulling his fingers from the warmth of your mouth, making a little pop sound. He lets your wrists go, lightly running his hands up and down the top of your thighs. “What do you think, princess?”

“I think…” You rub your lips together looking for the right words to say. “... I want to be ruined.”

“Are you sure?” He looks at you hesitantly, stroking your cheek tenderly with the back of his fingers that aren’t coated in your saliva.

“Jaemin, I trust you to use me responsibly,” you answer, voice hardly above a whisper. “Make me your little fucktoy, I want you to, I mean it.”

“God, y/n. I’ve been dreaming of those words coming from your mouth for weeks,” he groans and strokes his erection through his black skinny jeans. His tongue pushes into your mouth, smashing your lips together and you moan into the kiss.

His lips then return to your breasts, alternating between biting and sucking hard enough to make wet, lewd noises with his mouth. His hand roughly squeezes your other breast, pinching or flicking your cold nipple in between rough squeezing.

Jaemin sweeps you off your feet and sets you down on the salon chair. “Princess, can I tie you down so you don’t squirm and I can do my job better?”

“Tie me down with what, exactly?” you ask skeptically.

Jaemin holds up a half dozen zip ties that he had found sitting on one of the speakers that were low to the ground. He didn’t know what he’d use them for, he just took them to have them.

“Where did you get those?”

“I got them from the set director. Now, are you up for this?” Jaemin lightly shakes the zip ties in his hand and like the other times you agree and let him do what he wants.

Jaemin kneels down to secure your wrists to each armrest. He raises the chair so you can see your whole body in the mirror now instead of just the top.

You press your thighs together again, squirming in the chair as he finishes the task. He cups your knees with gentle hands and looks up at you with adoration. “How about you part those legs for me like a good girl… or do you need a little help?” You bite your bottom lip, letting a whine vibrate in the back of your throat to answer on your behalf. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it myself.”

He tightens his grip on your knees and pries your thighs apart for a picture-perfect, close up shot of your wet slit. His eyes flick back and forth between your face and your bare pussy until you close your eyes from embarrassment.

“Hey, baby, no, no! It’s okay! Don’t be embarrassed!” Jaemin coos, getting to his feet and kissing your lips. You try to bring your thighs back together again but his legs get in the way and he pries them open. He tsks his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I need you to keep these open for me. Can you do that?”

You reluctantly nod while feeling your face growing hotter by the second. “Um, okay.”

“Good girl,” Jaemin places a soft kiss on either of your knees. “Has anyone ever told you how stunning you are, princess?” Jaemin kisses up the inside of your thigh until his mouth hovers over his own personal jackpot.

“M’hmm, I’ve been t-” you begin to answer when Jaemin places a tender kiss on your clit. You gasp at the unexpected contact of his mouth to the sensitive spot.

“Well you haven't been told enough,” Jaemin mumbles, mouth still lightly grazing over your slick torturously. Rocking back on his heels, he gently spreads your wet lips with his fingers to admire you closely. “Absolutely…gorgeous.”

The infatuating smile Jaemin flashes you before dragging his tongue through your pussy is one that will haunt your wet dreams for quite possibly the rest of your life. You squeeze your eyes shut and cling onto the armrest as he slowly laps up your arousal, gaging your response by keeping his eyes on your face. He detaches his mouth and stands up, wiping the back of his hand across your favorite pair of messy lips.

“I think you’re too beautiful for only one pair of eyes to be watching,” Jaemin says. He circles around the salon chair until he is directly behind you. “You should see for yourself, baby.”

Slinking his arms around you, his fingers graze your slit from this new position, compelling you to mewl at the sensation of Jaemin rubbing tiny soft circles on your clit. His other hand massages your breast moderately aggressively.

“Keep your eyes open, y/n. You need to see this. Need to see how pretty your pussy is when I play with you.”

You gulp. “Okay, I'll try.”

Jaemin relocates his hand to sternly grasp your throat instead. “No, you will.” He gives your throat a five second squeeze and feels you struggling to swallow against the palm of his hand. “Say it after me: I will keep my eyes open.”

He loosens his grip to hear you swear. “I will keep my eyes open,” you rasp.

“And I will keep my legs open.”

“I w-will keep my legs open.”

Jaemin tightens his grasp again, not as strict as the first time but enough to make you feel a bit floaty. “Mhmm, now that’s my girl.”

You watch yourself wriggle in the salon chair as he increases the pressure applied to your clit. They dip lower and dive inside you, curling up masterfully. By this time, he's got you bucking your hips into his hand to meet the rhythm of his fingers. He smirks with satisfaction, holding eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Am I making you feel good, princess?” You nod lazily but struggle to move much since his hand restricts further mobility. “What about now? Tell me, does this feel better?” He moves his hand, roaming down from your throat, between your breasts, across the span of your stomach to arrive at your clit, focusing now on working you over your limit.

You hiss and attempt to suppress any loud cries, fearful of being caught like this, secured to the styling chair leaking cum on the leather, exposed to anyone that might walk in on you being so feverishly abused by Jaemin’s fingers. “Fuck…y-yeah that’s amazing.”

He leans to the side of your head and kisses your cheek then leaves a short trail of feathered kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “No, you’re amazing,” Jaemin whispers in your ear. He seals his open mouth to the sweet spot just below your ear and sucks on your neck. While the throbbing pressure in your core mounts, the pornographic wet noises from your pussy occupy every inch of the room.

Your eyes roll back in your head and flutter closed momentarily. He pulls his fingers out of you suddenly, slapping your clit briefly and ripping a cry from your lips. “Remember your promise, y/n,” he whispers again, tone less nurturing and more threatening than any tone he’s ever spoken to you with before. He returns back to dutifully ruining you without forcing an apology out of you. Jaemin is aiming to shoot you into the heavens and isn’t settling for anything less. He’s not petty enough to demand an apology when all he wants to bring you is bliss.

You instantly open your eyes and three seconds later, feel the tingly pressure inside you burst and bloom through your body in waves of heat. As insanely difficult as it is, you manage to keep your eyes open the entire, elongated high. Jaemin’s fingers hasten the excessive stimulation and maintain the same merciless motions until you’re bawling and thrashing in the chair.

“Aw, baby, you did so well,” he coos.

“I did? Really?” You look up at him lethargically and he rewards you with a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah.” Jaemin crouches in front of you, smiling to himself when you make no effort to close your legs this time. You jolt from the zing that fires through your abdomen and down to your toes as he touches your aching core and collects some of your arousal on his fingertips. He gets a taste of your wetness and hums delightfully. “Mmmh, your cunt tastes so good,” he compliments you, fully diving two fingers inside you. He recovers another small amount of your juices and rubs it over his lips. “Here, you try, princess.”

Jaemin clasps his hands over yours on the armrests, leaning in close and bestowing upon you the taste he savors so much. Like a dream, you open your mouth against his obediently. He hums, getting to his knees to finish his uneaten meal.

“Jaemin, wait! Are you going to-” You whimper and twitch as his tongue swirls around your folds and slides inside your heat.

He eats you out for a dozen seconds before peering up at you. “Do you want me to stop? It doesn’t sound like you want me to stop but if you rrrreally want me to then–”

You loll your head to the side, breathlessly huffing something that sounds like, “No, don’t stop.”

“Hmm, now that’s what I thought.”

Jaemin pets your walls with two fingers and sucks harshly on your clit until you’re spiraling for the second time and sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure.

He teeters back, looking you up and down like a work of art that he just added to his own personal gallery. “Perfect,” he murmurs to himself. “Perfect and all mine.”

It would be a dream come true if he could ever convince you to let him hang you up in his room for a day. In his fantasy, you would be naked and untouched the entire time to make you desperate beyond imagination and soon enough, he would get to hear you whimper and beg to be put out of your misery but would deny your every request to edge you on further; bonus points if he got to keep his door open all day to show you off.

It’s a nice thought, although thinking from a realistic standpoint, he wouldn’t last an hour without giving you everything you ask for. Plus, now that he thinks about it, he’s not too keen on the idea of sharing you with anyone, so that open door policy is off the table too.

“When can I touch you?” you ask, eyes like a wounded puppy.

Jaemin kisses both of your cheeks, the tip of your nose and finally your lips, mumbling, “say please” against them.

“Please? Can you let me loose… please?”

“God, I’ll never be able to say no to you, y/n,” he says as he clips the zip ties, setting you free.

You quickly scramble to the grimy dressing room floor before he can object. Now on your knees in front of him, you fumble with his belt buckle and unzip his worn-in black jeans. “Baby, I said I wanted to make tonight was about you, remember? I wanna make you happy, this isn’t about me.”

You delay the removal of his pants and question him in an innocent voice. “Well, what if giving you head will make me happy?”

Jaemin grins, huffing air through his nose a few times slightly amused by your eagerness to take him down your throat. He pets the top of your head gently. “Hmm… only if you want to, princess.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t want to,” you answer, pulling down the garment to reveal his dark gray boxer briefs. There’s a darker spot where his precum has seeped through the material. It’s less prominent than yours but the resemblance is indisputable.

“And you had the audacity to call me out for being wet when you were making a mess in your pants too?”

You peer up at him with a teasing expression that he doesn’t appreciate, but he lets your taunting comment slide when your puckered lips meet his tip. You suck him in with ease, taking your time so you don’t gag right away. His head hits the back of your throat and Jaemin pulls your mouth off of him. A string of spit connects your mouth to his cock which he takes in his hand and gives a few pumps, using your saliva as lubricant.

“I’m not patient enough to wait to be inside you,” Jaemin says in a low voice that demands respect. After clawing at his clothes and ridding his body of the remaining pesky garments getting in the way, he sits himself down on the stylist chair. He motions towards you, beckoning you over for filling to which you oblige, like you will always. You can’t envision a time when you might refuse his advances or propositions.

Before his mouth met yours, you couldn’t stand to be around the person holding their jar of hearts where everyone can see the kind of person they are. It becomes so blatantly apparent, everyone knows how cold his own heart is.

It’s sad when you think about it. He is the kind of someone that holds out a jar of what might as well be honey in front of him, luring bees into the trap and dosing them with white smoke to put them to sleep. Difference between the bees and the girls he cuts loose is that the bees fly away unharmed and with no long term memory of that jar and how the honey was basically their charm.

Obviously, there are girls that are completely fine with one night stands and prefer to hook up once or twice and then never see him again, but a great majority of them end up with shattered hearts, crushed by the hands of none other than Na Jaemin.

Your opinion of him reverted back to that of which you had when you first met him because of the incident you witnessed at the club.

You’re faced with the question: did you actually like Jaemin this whole time but wanted to obliterate those feelings so badly that you found a way around those affections, latching onto an excuse (seeing him at the club) to leave him high and dry? Has your mind created this emotional defense mechanism to save you from heartbreak in the distant future?

It hurts now but it’s almost like you’re choosing this small amount of pain to avoid perhaps suffering through a much deeper, earth shattering pain that could be waiting for you somewhere along in life.

All you know is that his touch on your skin feels right. You welcome every single action he takes gladly, showing him your appreciation by whimpering and moaning when he squeezes your skin, or sticks his fingers or tongue inside one of your needy holes.

Jaemin traces his fingers through your pussy as you stand in front of him, tilting forward a bit and holding your cheeks apart for him to have optimal access to you. When he has gathered enough of your wetness, he smears the natural lubricant all over himself, a mixture of his precum and your arousal making his stiff cock slick and slightly sticky. You let out a whine, impatient to be stuffed full of him to which he chuckles apathetically.

“Awww, poor y/n has to wait a whole 30 seconds,” Jaemin coos with a tone void of pity and painted in sarcasm. “That’s nothing compared to how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

He reaches out to your hips and guides you in the right direction for him to line himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready, princess?”

“M’hmm,” you hum, in a higher pitch than normal. “Fill me up.”

Jaemin holds the base of his cock, keeping himself in place as you slowly sink down, inch by inch. You pinch your eyes shut from the sting of your walls spreading further by every second. He leans back to observe your reaction to the ceremonious first thrust inside you through the reflection of the mirror. From your mouth slips a broken, mildly pained whimper as your pussy sucks in his entire length, not stopping until your ass is pressed firmly against his lap and his cock has completely disappeared inside you.

“y/n… you feel like heaven,” he purrs close to your ear, skilled lips barely feathering your ear lobe. The tight sensation is infinitely better than what he imagined you would feel like. His hands get a stern grip on your waist, rolling your hips in his lap while he’s buried deep inside you.

You gasp and wince. “J-Jaemin? i, um, it hurts, can w–”

“Baby, just focus on your breathing. I’m right here, okay? I’m right here,” he couches you through the transition from empty to stuffed full, rubbing your back soothingly. “Just relax. The pain will be over soon, I promise.”

“i– okay. If you say so,” you snivel.

He stays still for nearly a minute before softly rolling your hips again. “Better?”

“Better,” you sigh, this time blissfully.

Jaemin’s fingers dig into your skin and he starts off by lifting you off his lap slightly. He repeats this level of intensity of shallow thrusts for about half a minute before accelerating. He won't bounce you with the highest degree of brutality until he deems your hole has stretched enough to handle more.

Picking up the pace, he awakens something inside you, eliciting a weak cry from your parted lips. Your eyes bulge out of your head, preferring not to get caught if you’re too loud. You squeeze them shut, focusing on your attempt at silencing your involuntary noises. Although, even if you tuck your lips together between your teeth, he can still hear your tiny, pleasured whimpering half suppressed in the back of your throat.

“Feeling good, princess?” he grunts, clearly hearing how he’s making you feel beyond simply ‘good.’

You open one eye and then two a moment later, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “Sooo fucking good.”

Jaemin licks his lips, smiling wickedly, in total contrast to how he is in the outside world. He has his moments when he’s a gentle softie; however, the mysterious bad boy look has always screamed dark, hard and sore – three words you would confirm.

“Baby, what’s up?” Jaemin asks when you close your eyes.

“Hm? I didn’t s-say anything.”

“You promised me you’d keep your eyes open…and I expect that from you the whole time, got it?”

Jaemin’s arm wraps around your front to deliver a light slap to your clit. You squeak and move the position of your hands to the armrests instead of your quivering thighs. He gains momentum, lifting you above his lap and then forcefully bringing you down. You weakly try to help him, bouncing on his cock with an exhilaration that ultimately overwhelms your limited life bar.

Arriving at that point where your body is too worn out to contribute a single ounce of energy into riding him, you cry out for him to stop. When he does, you finally relinquish control, telling him through soft whimpers that he can use your body however he wants, while you'll graciously take everything he gives you. For Jaemin, hearing you completely submit to him, and 100% soberly hand over the reins to your body willingly, is nearly enough to make him shoot his cum inside you on the spot.

“God, y/n…so you really are mine then, huh? You belong to me now? You’re just a hole for me and me alone to fuck and use up however I want?” Jaemin asks, a possessive, crazed glint shining in his eyes. Paradoxically, at the end of every question, he gently presses a kiss to your neck.

“I’m yours, Jaemin,” you rasp. “All yours.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re allll mine,” he says with a haunting dominance.

He rapidly slams you down his cock, heaving your body into the air, almost to the point where he slides out, but every time, yanking you down, shoving himself deeper inside you over and over and over again until you feel high as a kite from the experience of having your walls roughly spread.

The sound of your naked bodies slapping together, as you ride him and bounce on his cock, rings around the room. He gives it to you passionately with his endless defiling and gushing pleasure, almost brimming, almost too much. He doesn’t restrain himself, snapping his hips up and fucking you so savagely that he'll have to carry you out tonight, since you'll struggle to walk after he's pummeled your pussy with such high intensity. Jaemin is dead set on watching you melt in his lap, right before his eyes, and he won’t stop bouncing you on his cock for anything, using you like a lifeless sex doll and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.

You feel a rush of tingly pressure quickly forming, on the precipice of mounting your senses. The icing on the cake is his abuse of your aching clit, hurried circles with skillful fingers, whispering sweet words of praise in your ear to trigger your high. Your consciousness levitates off the ground, every sensation besides a numbing tightness ceasing to exist. You dig your nails into the chair and quiver against his chest uncontrollably. The faded dissociation from reality like an edible suddenly hitting out of nowhere after you've waited nearly an hour for the feeling to conquer your body completely.

You wilt back against his chest, dropping your head on his shoulder, which bobs every time he bounces your body. He continues to pound you vigorously into oblivion, in tune with him this time. Jaemin, again, rubs your puffy clit ruthlessly, ensuring that you, once more, peak at the same time he does. He watches your face twist up in pleasure while you convulse against him.

“Hold onto that feeling. Hold on a tiny bit longer, okay? Do it for me, y/n."

“I’ll…I’ll try,” you pant. Your walls clench around his cock, concentrating with difficulty on the pulsating pressure as long as possible. A mere seven grueling seconds in heaven, that honestly feel a lot like hell, pass before you’re too overwhelmed by your orgasm to carry on, twitching erratically. “Jaem, I c-can’t-”

Your pleading is drowned out by his shaky huffing, his lazy thrusts picking up speed before he reaches his breaking point, toppling over the edge of pleasure as euphoria surges through his veins. Jaemin shoots his cum deep inside your pussy, blessing you with a warm, full feeling. A distorted version of your name woven into a thick, gravelly moan tumbles from his lips.

When he’s completely emptied himself into you, he heaves your connected bodies up, carefully guiding you both over to the couch with his cock still buried inside. The two of you lethargically collapse there, on the black Egyptian cotton. He turns you on your side after a handful of seconds, and then cautiously pulls his softened cock out. He keeps an eye on the white cum that dribbles from your throbbing hole. In an attempt to keep it inside you, you roll on your stomach, causing Jaemin to snicker briefly.

He nudges your thighs apart, aiming to clean up the mess he made of you. "Up on your knees, princess." You whine but do as he says, leaning your front half on your elbows and arching your back for him to watch the cum leak out of you.

“Can I take a picture of you? It won’t have your face, just your pretty dripping pussy…please?”

“Yeah. Jaemin, it belongs to you, remember?”

“Fuck, yeah. I can’t believe I forgot about that,” he mutters to himself.

He gets his phone and the roll of paper towels on the vanity as quickly as possible but some of the cum drips on the couch in brief moment he steps away. He curses and dabs the material, trying his best to clean the newly forming stain. Folding a paper towel underneath you as a precaution, he finally gets to capture the image of how well he fucked you into the stars.

He takes a video of his fingers reaching out and parting your glistening lips, getting a good close up of the cum trickling from your pussy. The pussy he owns. “I love the sound of that…your pussy belonging to me. You’re mine…are you okay with that, y/n?” He smears the cum through your folds, brushing your overly sensitive clit and forcing a whimper up your throat, involuntarily.

“I’m-I'm more than okay with being yours. Every part of me being yours,” you answer sincerely, unashamed to admit what you really want now. Jaemin hums and massages your bare ass for a moment after cleaning you up with the paper towels, thinking of his marvelous, treasured new ownership.

He throws a blanket that Jeno forgot on the couch over your limp body and climbs underneath it. Wedging himself between you and the back of the stained couch, he wraps his arms around your frame, skin pressed to skin, your back nested to his muscular chest as you and Jaemin spoon happily.

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You spent weeks trying to perfect your tactics for facing him in tempting, tense moments but your iron borders had grown faulty. At some point or another, you were willingly unlocking the door to let him in easier and you had been fearful of the weakness that he brought out of you. You might even hold the door open for him at some point. You would be waiting and waiting for him to return soon, holding your breath, and leaning against the front door in hopes that he will come back at all.

And yet despite that fear he would ghost like the others prior to your introduction – that massive red flag you could see from a galaxy away – you felt your strength deteriorating and the weakness seeping into you and you did nearly nothing about it because you had a shred of hope it wouldn’t turn out that way. And by some miracle, your fantasy of true love encased in glass and vulnerable to shattering at any moment, wasn’t so illogical or impossible as before. Maybe you and Jaemin will embody that fantasy and for the first time in a long time you have pure hope, not the kind where you try to convince yourself things will turn out well or looking forward to something insignificant in the grand scheme of things; it’s a hope that empty is nothing but a distant memory to you and him alike.

Lying on the couch with you encompassed in his arms, Jaemin feels something more than high, restless, horny and empty. There’s no turning back once he musters up the courage to leap off the top of his secluded, emotionally distant nest because you’ve promised to teach him how to fly. Looking in the mirror, he recognizes himself again, and it’s no coincidence that you will be by his side practically every time he sees his reflection in the styling chair.

His brooding eyes now sparkling, the dazzling smile on his face genuine, the inconsistent silly, erratic behavior he does to entertain his friends and the playful, flirty comments that slip from his tempting lips aren't for the purpose of getting some girl naked backstage, but to make you laugh instead.

He chews on his lip subconsciously while he ruminates on the word “forever” for the billionth time today until reaching a conclusion: even if you and him fall apart someday and the heartache eats him alive, having you for even the tiniest pinch of time, would be worth it.

All the unforgettable memories he’ll cherish until he’s six feet under, the meaningful, romantic moments that seem nearly too good to be true, the passionate, steamy nights and days where he’s always determined to make you come first, and the pure, tenderhearted love that flows through his veins because your name is written on his heart with blue ink, in swirly, scribbled cursive letters just like the contract you signed that brought you two together at last.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask softly.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just about how Renjun’s going to kill me for getting cum on the dressing room couch.”

Amused by something so trivial to murder a person over, you crane your head around with a smile to look at him. Jaemin abruptly attaches your lips for a brief moment, like you would vanish into the crowd if he didn’t kiss you that very instant.

“What was that for?”

He hums sweetly in contentment, tightening his embrace. “I feel whole when I’m with you and no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at us, I promise I’ll be by your side, forever holding your hand for as long as you’ll let me.”

Holding your body close to his chest protectively, he has faith that your bubble of budding love won’t burst, leaving behind the insecurity and fear of attachment for the sake of saving oneself from heartbreak. He knows the girl in his arms worth the risk.

taglist: @chitaphrrrr @sweetjaemss @domhyuckie @nominsgirl @jaeymark @youryuno @hwasatiny @rinasluvs @aedreamzy ─────────────────────

bro...THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 5K WORDS ???

seriously though, I'm sorry for delaying the release of ROCK ME a thousand times. i hope you think it was worth the wait ? i know a ton of you were disappointed. the reason it was so late is mainly attributed to it's length. i was banking on it having a shorter word count & then it kept growing and somehow it ended up being this long fucking story that actually has a plot. i type ultra slow & couldn't keep up with the dates i thought i would post by. don't hate me. shit happens.

this is the longest thing i've ever written and i'm really proud of it! i poured my heart into this one, so please take 2 minutes to give me feedback!

okay, i think that's all i have to say. i hope you and your loved ones are/stay healthy and safe!

stream Red Velvet's *Feel My Rhythm* & *WILDSIDE* (my fav song of the year so far)

and, ofc, stream *Glitch Mode*

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