#for giving me my first buzz cut

[sapphosboy]

Was talking today with a friend about how monumental it was for me as a trans person and a lesbian who was uncomfortably presenting feminine, to meet my butch best friend in college, and how just being friends with them, and hearing about their experience as a butch really allowed me the space to feel comfortable exploring my own gender expression and identity, and how I feel like I’m a more complete person for having known them because they made me feel so incredibly safe in the journey and I now feel so much more comfortable presenting the way I want to and not the way I expect people to want me to, and the friend I was talking to said that I was that for them. So dress as faggy as you fucking want to and be as loud as you want to about it. It’s your god-given right to be DRIPPING with dykery and transgenderism because you never know if you’re going to be that lightbulb moment or safe queer space for someone!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i love haircuts. i cant stop petting the back of my skull

[quasieli]

Annoying genderqueer ND moment: Kinda wanting to chop off my hair bc of sensory issues but also (sometimes) loving how it looks longer.

[fallenangelforestprince]

Not me flirting with the idea of shaving my head again

[pepperyduck]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[clara-a7]

On Set | Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Pairing: Nicholas Alexander Chavez x Reader

Requested? No~ (I accept requests!)

Word Count: 969

A/N: Sorry if here are any mistakes, english isn't my first language, not my best writing...~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was a special day for you, visiting your boyfriend on set for the first time. You’d heard all about his role, the long hours, and the excitement of filming, but now you were seeing it up close. The energy in the room was electric as the crew prepped for the scene, and you couldn’t wait to watch him step into character, bringing his hard work to life.

After you sign in at the security desk, a production assistant leads you to the soundstage where they’re filming. The place is buzzing with activity, people rushing around with equipment, makeup artists adding final touches, and the director deep in conversation with the actors. And then, you see Nicholas, standing by his trailer, going over his lines.

He smiles the moment he spots you, striding over with his usual easy confidence. “Hey, you made it,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his hand resting on your waist just a moment longer than necessary.

“You sure you’re warm enough?” you tease, your voice playful despite the quickening beat of your heart at the sight of him wearing only a boxer.

“Not at all,” he laughs softly, though there’s a mischievous spark in his eyes. “But you might be the one shivering once you see this next scene.”

Your eyebrow lifts, curiosity piqued. “Oh? What kind of scene?”

Before he can answer, a voice calls out, “Nicholas, we’re ready for you!” The director is motioning him to the set. Nicholas gives you one last grin before heading toward the scene. You follow, curiosity piqued.

The decor is designed to resemble a luxurious bathroom from the 80s, with a little steam in the air, giving the illusion of warmth. Nicholas steps into the shower, already in character. You can’t help but stare as he begins to act the scene.

The water splashes over his skin, droplets clinging to his toned muscles, his abs glistening as he runs his hands through his wet hair. He reaches for a towel, wrapping it loosely around his waist. The camera pans up, but your eyes can’t help but follow the way the towel clings to his hips, barely covering him. His every movement is slow, sensual, deliberate. You feel a flutter in your stomach as you watch, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the fake steam filling the set.

The scene ends, and the director calls for a break. Nicholas walks over to you, still dripping wet, his towel slung dangerously low. He’s smirking now, knowing full well the effect he’s having on you.

“Enjoy the view?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

You swallow, trying to play it cool. “No…. I didn't.”

He chuckles, stepping closer until you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. “I saw the way you were looking at me,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You’re not so good at hiding it.”

Before you can respond, his hand slips to your waist, pulling you into a corner just out of view from the team. His lips brush your ear. “Do you know how hard it is to focus on work when I know you’re watching?”

Your breath hitches, the air between you electric. He’s still so close, the scent of soap and skin filling your senses. You can feel the tension growing, a mix of excitement and desire swirling inside you.

“You’re not supposed to be thinking about me,” you whisper, but the way your voice wavers betrays your thoughts.

“I can’t help it,” he says, pressing a soft kiss just below your jaw. “Especially when I know how much you like watching me.”

His hand slides down your back, pulling you against him, the wet towel barely separating your bodies. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the rush of heat that pulses through you. You should stop, remind him you’re on set, but the way his body feels against yours makes your thoughts blur.

“Nicholas,” you start, but he cuts you off with a slow, teasing kiss. His lips are soft but insistent, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you closer. His towel slips a little lower, exposing more of his skin, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Your body reacts instinctively, pressing against him. He groans quietly, the sound vibrating in his chest as your hand trails down his slick, wet torso. Your fingers graze the edge of the towel, tugging at it just slightly as his lips claim yours in a deeper kiss, more demanding this time. His hands slide lower, gripping your hips as his mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Nicholas, we’re on set,” you murmur breathlessly, but you don’t pull away. Instead, your hands find their way to his waist, fingers trailing along the damp towel.

“I know,” he replies, his lips brushing against your ear. “That’s what makes it so exciting, isn’t it?”

Before you can respond, his hand slips lower, gripping your thigh and pulling you closer. His lips capture yours again, more urgent now, and you can feel the heat of his skin, the firm press of his body against yours. Your pulse quickens, your body aching for more, but the sound of footsteps approaching makes you freeze.

Just as things begin to heat up, you hear a voice call out, “Nicholas, we’re back in ten!”

You both pull away quickly, hearts pounding, the thrill of almost getting caught making you both laugh breathlessly. Nicholas smirks, running a hand through his wet hair.

“We’ll finish this later,” he promises, winking as he walks back to set, leaving you flushed and breathless.

You watch him go, a grin tugging at your lips.

Visiting him on set definitely has its perks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

!Pictures is not mine. Found on Tumblr. Full credit to the owner! 

[diamonddaze01]

baby, darling, light of my entire life

pairing: csc x fem!reader genre: tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, slice of life | wc: 2.4k au: married au! warning: alcohol consumption (by the reader) | rating: e for everyone

summary: it's laughable how much you forget when you drink.

a/n: one day when i say i’m writing a drabble i will actually write a drabble. one day. that day is not today. // the cheol angst is taking forever so here have some fluff as a precursor // flashbacks in italics!

“WOW,” you shout (very loudly, he thinks) in Seungcheol’s ear. “YOU’RE LIKE, REALLY PRETTY!” 

Seungcheol flinches, rubbing his ear as your voice cuts through the pounding bass of the club. The flashing lights reflect off the crowd around you, turning everything into a blur of motion, but all Seungcheol can focus on is you—his overly drunk wife—looking up at him with wide, dazzled eyes like he’s some stranger you’ve just met.

He had known this would happen. Letting you go out with Jeonghan, Joshua, and their girlfriends without him was practically inviting chaos into the night. He would’ve joined you if work hadn’t held him back, and guilt had gnawed at him all evening for canceling plans yet again (was it guilt, or fear of retribution from Jeonghan? He’d never tell). He’d figured he could catch up with you at the club before things got too crazy.

Clearly, he’d been wrong.

When Seungcheol finally arrives, the table your group has reserved is a mess of empty glasses, and the dance floor is packed with bodies swaying to the beat. It isn’t hard to spot Jeonghan trying to keep you out of trouble—tall and exasperated, attempting to pull you away from a guy you seem hellbent on kicking in the balls.

“I’LL LET YOU KNOW THAT I HAVE A BOYFRIEND,” you screech, words slurring together and voice so loud Seungcheol can hear it on the other side of the dance floor. “AND HE’S THE BESTESTEST - LET GO OF ME!”

Jeonghan, bless his soul, is no match for your drunken ferocity, and lets out a startled yelp as you yank your hands free from his grip and stalk away in a huff. Seungcheol watches with growing amusement as you stumble toward where he stands on the dance floor, eyes lighting up the second you spot him.

“WOW,” you repeat, stopping just inches from him, blinking up at him with childlike awe. “YOU’RE LIKE, REALLY PRETTY.”

Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle under his breath. Your wobbling stance, the way your gaze fixes on him with the same starry-eyed amazement as if you’re seeing him for the first time—it’s all too familiar. He leans in slightly, humoring you.

“Oh really?” he teases, though his lips twitch with amusement. You’re giving him the same starry-eyed look you gave him when you first confessed—though, admittedly, you’re significantly less intoxicated now. Well… maybe not that much less. “You think so?”

You’d had one too many drinks, laughing hysterically with Jeonghan and Joshua about something stupid—something Seungcheol couldn't even remember now. All he could remember was the way your eyes had kept flickering to him, playful but shy, as if you had something on your mind but weren’t quite sure how to say it. He’d leaned in close, pretending to listen to Jeonghan’s nonsense, but really, he was trying to get closer to you.

“Hey, Cheol,” you slurred that night, your voice softer than the buzz of the club, but enough to catch his attention. Your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, your hair falling messily into your eyes, but there was a different look behind them this time—something more serious.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol had leaned in, smiling softly. You were always cute when you were drunk, but tonight, something felt... different. You weren’t just tipsy; you were nervous.

“I have a secret,” you whispered, as if you were sharing the world’s biggest conspiracy.

Seungcheol blinked, amused. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

You took a deep breath, looking around as if you were checking for eavesdroppers before meeting his gaze again. “I...I think you’re really pretty - like. REALLY PRETTY,” you blurted out, your eyes wide with sincerity. “And I think I really, really like you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and Seungcheol remembered feeling his heart skip a beat. He’d liked you for months at that point—he was pretty sure the whole group knew it—but you’d never given him any real sign that you felt the same way. Until now.

“You like me, huh?” Seungcheol had teased, leaning closer, his lips inches from yours. “Or are you just saying that because you’re drunk?”

You had frowned, swaying slightly, but your hands had reached for him, gripping his shirt tightly as if he might disappear. “No, I mean it. I like you,” you had insisted, your eyes growing glassy, a little too honest for your own good. “I don’t wanna be just friends anymore. I want you to be mine.”

Seungcheol’s chest had swelled with affection. “Well,” he had whispered back, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, “I think I’ve been yours for a long time, baby.”

You had blinked at him, confusion flickering in your eyes before a slow, wide smile spread across your lips. “Wait, really?” you asked, the disbelief clear in your voice.

Seungcheol had chuckled, pulling you into his arms then, your confession making his heart race. “Yeah, really,” he whispered before finally closing the distance, pressing his lips against yours.

Seungcheol’s heart swells as he looks at you, those same glassy, honest eyes reflecting an undeniable truth. In this moment, even if you don’t fully recognize him, he can feel it—the love you hold for him is woven into every glance, every flicker of emotion. It’s a warmth that wraps around him, grounding him despite the chaos.

“Yeah,” you breathe, nodding vigorously as if this is the most important fact you’ve ever shared. “But I can’t talk to you,” you add in a whisper, glancing around as if someone might overhear. “I have a boyfriend.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching at your secrecy. “A boyfriend, huh?”

You nod, taking a wobbly step closer. Your hand lands on his arm, fingers curling around the fabric of his jacket like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling over. “Mhm. He’s got these big, strong arms… like yours,” you muse, eyes drifting over his frame with an approving once-over. “And the cutest smile ever. And—wait, are you his twin?” you ask, your voice suddenly full of suspicion.

Seungcheol barely manages to contain his laughter. “No, baby, I’m not his twin.”

Your face brightens again. “Good, because I’m not allowed to flirt with anyone who’s not him,” you declare, though the way you’re still clutching his arm suggests otherwise. “But you’re really pretty, so don’t get any ideas.”

You turn to walk away and suddenly whip back around, pointing an accusing finger in his face. He almost falls over. “And DON’T call me baby! Only my boyfriend can call me that.”

Seungcheol lets out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing a hand over his face to hide his grin. “Baby…”

“HEY! NO!”

He steals a glance at Jeonghan, who has now joined Joshua and their girlfriends at the edge of the dance floor, clearly done with playing babysitter. Jeonghan gives him a knowing smirk, mouthing good luck before turning away. Seungcheol’s patience wears thin, but he can’t help the fond smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you, swaying slightly under the flashing lights of the club. You’re an adorable mess: cheeks flushed from alcohol, eyes wide and glassy as they struggle to focus on him. Every time the music pulses, your body sways, and Seungcheol instinctively tightens his grip on your waist to keep you steady.

“Baby. Darling. Light of my entire life.” His hands slide from your waist to your shoulders, squeezing gently, trying to ground you in the midst of your drunken haze. He crouches slightly, so he’s at eye level with you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a tenderness that makes your heart skip. You blink up at him, clearly confused, your brows knitting together as if trying to figure out a puzzle too complicated for your current state.

“I. Am. Your. Husband,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, almost as though speaking to a child.

Your eyes widen dramatically, hands flying to your chest as if struck by some earth-shattering revelation. “No way!” you gasp, your voice filled with pure astonishment. Your gaze roams over him as if you’re seeing him for the very first time. The lights of the club flicker against his face, casting shadows over his sharp features, and for a second, even in your drunken state, you marvel at just how beautiful he is. “Are you serious?!” you whisper, your tone full of awe.

Seungcheol closes his eyes for a brief moment, fighting back the laughter bubbling in his chest. He leans in, closer this time, until his lips brush against your ear. The familiar warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine. “Yes, I am very serious,” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice sending butterflies into your already churning stomach.

You blink up at him again, head tilting slightly as if processing this newfound information is a monumental task. The room seems to spin a little, and you reach out instinctively, clutching at his arms to steady yourself. “But…” you start, your voice trailing off as you bite your lip, your brows furrowing in deep confusion. “Why didn’t anyone tell me I’m married?”

Seungcheol groans softly, though a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He pulls you in by the waist, his strong arms wrapping around you like a protective barrier from the chaos around you. “You were at the wedding, baby,” he says, exasperation dripping from every word, though his tone is laced with affection. “You were the bride.”

Your eyes flutter as you stare up at him, still trying to wrap your mind around this incredible information. The flickering lights above, the faint scent of alcohol and sweat from the club, the warmth of Seungcheol’s arms around you—it all feels dreamlike. “Wait, so… you’re my boyfriend and my husband?” you ask, your voice rising in a mix of disbelief and wonder.

“Yup,” he says with a soft chuckle, his dimpled smile deepening as he looks down at you. That smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, sends a rush of warmth through your already tipsy mind. Even in your inebriated state, the sight of it makes your heart race. “You really hit the jackpot, huh?”

“NO. WAY,” you repeat, this time louder, your voice filled with awe as you step back slightly, your eyes scanning him again as if to check if this is all real. The music pounds in your ears, but you can barely hear it now over the sound of your own giddiness. “And… do we live together? Like, in a house?”

Seungcheol lets out another soft laugh, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. His fingers linger for a moment, tracing the curve of your cheek before resting gently on your shoulder. “Yes, baby, we do. You even picked out the curtains.”

The memory of your shared home floods your mind—each detail a testament to your love. Sunlight pours through the cheerful curtains you’ve chosen, illuminating the cozy living room where laughter echoes like music. The kitchen, with its warm scents of your culinary experiments and his late-night snacks, feels alive with the essence of you. Every nook and cranny speaks of the warmth you’ve woven into his life, transforming a mere house into a home, brimming with love and memories.

Your eyes widen in recognition, and you gasp, your hands clapping over your mouth. “And they’re so nice!” you exclaim, shaking your head in disbelief. “I have great taste.” You pause, narrowing your eyes at him as another thought pops into your alcohol-clouded brain. “Does my boyfriend—uh, husband,” you correct yourself with a dramatic flair, pointing a finger at him as if delivering an important verdict, “does he know how lucky he is?”

Seungcheol can’t hold back his laughter this time. It’s rich and warm, rumbling from his chest as he pulls you closer, his arms snug around your waist. “Oh, trust me, he knows,” he replies, his voice softening as he presses a tender kiss to your temple.

Even when you can’t remember him, Seungcheol feels a swell of gratitude for your love—for the quiet mornings entangled in the sheets, for spontaneous late-night adventures, for the way your laughter brightens his day.

You sigh in contentment, leaning into his chest, the weight of your body completely sinking into his warmth. The booming bass of the club seems to fade into the background as you melt against him, finding solace in his steady heartbeat and familiar scent. “He’s so lucky,” you mumble, your voice barely audible against the fabric of his shirt, but Seungcheol hears it loud and clear.

He smiles, brushing his lips across the top of your head. “He really is.”

For a moment, the world around you both seems to pause. The chaotic energy of the club, the distant chatter, and the bright lights all fade as you stand wrapped in each other’s arms, content in this little bubble of warmth. But then, just as quickly, you pull back, your brows furrowed in concentration. You blink up at him, still slightly suspicious. “Wait… does this mean I have to go home with you?”

Seungcheol’s deep chuckle reverberates through his chest as he gently brushes a stray hair from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “Yeah, baby, that’s usually how marriage works,” he replies, his voice dripping with amusement.

You frown, trying to piece everything together in your hazy mind. "But I don’t want to leave the club yet… we’re having fun, right?” you ask, your tone almost pleading, as though the thought of leaving this electric energy behind is too much to bear.

At that, Seungcheol’s gaze hardens a little as he leans down, glinting with unspoken promises. He presses a kiss under your ear, relishing in the way you shiver and press against him (he can’t help himself— the dress you’re wearing right now is sin incarnate). His lips linger against your skin for a moment longer, feeling your heart rate speed up at his antics. “We’ll have even more fun at home,” he murmurs, his voice deep and sultry; he smirks when you stumble a little in his grip, knees growing weak.

But of course, he’s not getting lucky tonight—you pull back just as quickly as you melted in his arms. You squint at him, narrowing your eyes as suspicion creeps in, your drunken mind still struggling to grasp the concept. “You’re not just saying that because you’re so pretty, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in until his face is mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips. His dark eyes sparkle with mischief as his voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. “You’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

For a long moment, you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind trying to decide whether or not to kiss him right then and there. The world seems to slow around you, the only thing you can focus on is him—the way his lips hover so close to yours, the way his arms wrap securely around you, and the soft, affectionate look in his eyes. Finally, you let out a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Fine,” you say, leaning in slightly, your lips brushing his with the faintest touch. “But only because you’re so pretty.”

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[imaginaryf1shots]

Family at McLaren | Oscar Piastri

WC: 4.7K oops

Oscar Piastri x single mum!reader

Summery: Raising a son while working for McLaren F1 team was never easy but life wasn’t easy on you anyway.

Warning: Teen pregnancy, absent father, absent family

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

Life hasn't been the kindest to you, it seemed like you've been struggling for so long before things started to turn to the better. Getting pregnant young wasn't on the agenda, nor was your boyfriend breaking up with you and moving as far away form you as he could, and your parents cutting you off to 'save face' certainly wasn't planned. But in the end you have your son, all the doubts and thoughts about keeping him or giving him away were set in motion, there was no way you'll give him away, he's a part of you and he's yours. You worked hard, keeping your scholarship helped you through your university and then you also had work on the side to support yourself and your son. During university with the help of your life long friends you were able to get through it and your understanding professors were also a big help. All in all with a son under 5 years old you graduated university top of your class and many opportunities for you to work and choose from. So when you got the chance to work for Mclaren F1 team you took the chance without thinking about it.

Studying was one thing, but balancing work and personal life was hard, harder than you thought. But the McLaren team is like a family everyone's very understanding. McLaren continues to be your beacon of hope, a promise for a brighter future.

"Thank you so much for letting me bring him in." You thanked your manager, feeling grateful for her allowing you to bring Tom with you. The daycare was flooded due to some water leakage or a burst pipe of something like that, meaning until they get everything fixed you had no one to watch your son while you're working. So in a panic mode you called your manager and told her what happened, she was very understanding and agreed to let you bring him with you. You worked in an office and weren't with the mechanics so that made it easier for him to stay with you and not hinder your work.

"No worries, I understand how things get some times." She patted your back and smiled at Tom who was shyly hiding behind your leg, he was super shy. Your team knew you had a son and have all admired you for being a young single mother but so far ahead in your carrier already. But it wasn't something that you spread around so when you walked in and saw the looks on everyone's faces you knew that they were

shocked.

Tommy is a carbon copy of you, there's no doubt in anyone's mind when they first see him that he's yours.

"Oh my god, who is that cutie?" Asked one of the women on the media team, she crouched down in front of you to be eye level with Tommy, he held your hand and looked up at you, you gave him a smile and a nod of encouragement.

"Hello." He said and waved before he got shy and hid into your side, you and Sarah giggled, a couple other moved closer to the three of you to watch the interaction, it's not everyday that a child comes into the MTC.

"What's your name, little guy?" Sarah asked trying to prop him into talking and get him out of his Shyness

"I'm not little." He mumbled and peaked out at her, Sarah raised her arms in surrender.

"Sorry, what's your name big guy?"

"My name's Tom, but mummy calls me Tommy." Tom said and you giggled. A few of your colleague interacted with him on your way to your office. Once you were there you gave him a few of his toys to play with, including a toy car that he liked to act as if he raced with, especially since you started working for McLaren, and being surrounded by Formula 1 way more than before. As you settled in work, it was clear that Tom has created a buzz in the office.

It was later when Oscar strolled into the office. It wasn't weird for him to be there, since you're similar in age you had struck up a friendship, and he'd pop in every time he was in the factory, you'd always talk for a while but had no idea about Tom. So when he walked in and saw Tom surprise flickered on his face, it didn't take him long to put two and two together, especially with the murmurs of other people he passed since he arrived.

"Hey there." Oscar said a friendly grin spreading on his face as he squatted down beside Tom who was playing with his Toy car. "Are you a future driver?"

Tom looked up, his shyness having faded a bit since the morning.

"Maybe." He said with a giggle, holding up his toy car for Oscar to see, Oscar then glanced at you as you watched the scene unfold.

"He's got good taste." He ruffled Tom's hair and stood up. "Are you brining him to the track next?"

"Not if I can help it." You replied with a laugh, grateful for Oscar's easy going nature. "Too much people, too many ways to get lost."

"True." Oscar pulled the usual chair to sit next to you, his eyes not leaving Tom's. If Oscar held any respect for you before it just doubled. Oscar sat with you for a while before he had to go away.

By lunchtime Tommy was like a mini celebrity, there was even a few engineers that took turns showing him around. You were over the moon, just seeing him so happy and over his shyness. Lunch time is always hectic, and all it took a few seconds, you looked away from Tom for a few seconds and he was gone. You couldn't see him anywhere. Panic consumed you, and your heart pounded in your chest as

realization hit you, Tommy is lost. You turn around and head back to your office, maybe he went back there for one of his toys.

Dread washed over you when you didn't find him there, the MTC is a big building and he could be anywhere, you asked everyone you passed if they've seen him but no one has. You called his name, and a few others joined you in your search.

Where did he go? Was he hurt? Is he scared? Just the thought of him being alone in this big unfamiliar building scared you immensely. With each passing moment a sense of helplessness threatened to overwhelmed you.

As you ran around, calling for your son, your voice is tinged with desperation, you could feel the stared of your colleagues, their concerned expressions adding to your anxiety. And as they told you words of comfort it just fell onto deaf ears. You were lost in the whirlwind of your panic.

It seemed to you as if you've searched each corner, every hallway, your mind conjuring the worst scenarios. Each empty room you passed seemed to taunt you with its silence. The MTC always felt like it's a place filled with excitement and innovation, now just felt like it's a maze. You stopped by Sarah's disk, your breath coming in short and frantic gasps.

"Have you seen Tommy?" you ask her, your voice trembling.

"No." She shook her head, concern etched across her face. "But we'll find him, he can't have gone far."

Tears prickled your eyes as you continued your search, your voice growing hoarse from calling his name. your ran through corridors, peering into ever nook and cranny, your mind replaying the last moments you saw him, had he wandered into a restricted area? Was he frightened or hurt?

Just as the panic was threatening to consume you, you turned a corner and you saw a familiar figure approaching, relief and disbelief washed over you as you saw Oscar, with Tommy over his shoulders, a broad smile on his face.

”Looking for this big boy?” OScar asked, his eyes twinkling with a smile on his face.

A sob left you in relief, as you rushed over pulling Tommy into your arms.

”Oh my god!” You exclaimed, your voice trembling. “I was so worried.”

Tommy wrapped his arms around your neck, he sensed your distress. “I’m sorry mummy.”

Oscar smiled gently, patting Tommy’s head.

”I saw him wandering around, so I took him to check the simulator room.” He explained. “I think he’s got a knack for finding the coolest sports in the building.”

”Thank you Oscar.” You managed a shaky laugh, the tension slowly ebbing away. “I don’t know hat I would’ve done if-“

”It’s okay.” Oscar interrupted softly. “He’s safe now, let’s just keep a closer eye on him next time.”

You nodded, and as you hugged Tommy a tear left your eye, Oscar’s eyes just softened even more, he whipped it away and gave you a one armed hug with Tommy between the two of you.

“Oh Tommy, I was so scared.” You mumbled to your son after you pulled away from Oscar.

”I’m sorry mummy.” Tommy looked sad, he didn’t mean to scare you.

”It’s alright baby, just don't do it again, you have to always tell me where you are.” You tell him, and he nods, hugging you.

Oscar walks back with you, once you make it to your office, and you send a message to everyone that you found him, the rest of the day goes smoothly, everyone pays more attention to Tommy making sure that he’s alright and within eyesight.

This just renewed and cemented the love and care in the McLaren family.

From the moment OScar saw you at McLaren, he was captivated. You were different from everyone else he’s met, that is remotely close to his age, something he now concludes is because you’re a single mother, juggling a demanding job and raising a young son on your own.

Oscar admired your resilience, you run wavering commitment to both your work and Tommy. And despite the whirlwind that is Formula 1, he’s found his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you managed to keep everything together with such grace. He often wondered how hard it must’ve been for you, he heard that you’re mostly alone taking care of your son, he pained him to think that you went through so much hardships alone. Your friends were there for you, but they couldn’t have been there all the time.

Oscar also knew you had drawn clear boundaries between the two of you, he’s seen the way you focus on your work and Tom, always putting your son first. He respected that about you, even if it meant keeping his feelings in check. When you brought Tom to the MTC, Oscar knew why you had drawn these lines.

OScar saw the way Tom’s eyes light up when he saw the cars, and when he sat on the sim even if he was too short to do anything yet, his face was beaming with excitement. Oscar enjoyed the moments he spent with Tom, you had brought him with you for a week while the daycare was being fixed up.

Seeing the vulnerability in your eyes when Tom got lost, he saw the fear of a mother who lost her child, and he wanted to be there for you, to support you in any way he could.

And through the week Tommy was at MTC, Oscar had taken it upon himself to spend as much time with Tommy as he could, he’d take him to the simulator room, and show him the cars at the technology centre. He saw first hand how much you meant to your son.

Without even noticing Oscar’s feelings grew stronger with each passing day, but he knew he had to approach his feelings dreadfully. His biggest fear is making you uncomfortable in any way shape or form, or overstepping. So he just focused on building a bond with Tommy, knowing that his actions will speak louder than words. And he couldn’t help but hope that in time you might see hi as more than just a colleague or a young F1 driver. Oscar understand that you’ve been hurt before and that you’re protective of your heart and the heart of your son. But he’s known for being patient, willing to wait and prove himself, to show you that could be a part of your life and Tommy’s in a meaningful way.

One afternoon, as you were wrapping up a meeting, Oscar popped his head into your office.

”Hey, got a minute?” He asked with that familiar, easygoing smile.

“Sure, Oscar.” You looked up from your desk. “What’s up?”

”I was wondering if you and Tommy would like to come to the race this weekend?” Oscar stepped inside, his hands causally tucked into his pockets. “It’s in the country, and it’s a big one, I thought it might be fun for him to see it all in action.”

Your initial reaction was to say no. The thought of bringing Tommy to a race, with the noise, crowds and the chaos, it just seemed overwhelming. but the way Oscar looked at you with genuine enthusiasm and a touch of hope, made you hesitate.

“I don’t know, Oscar.” You said, your concern evident in your voice. “Races can be pretty hectic I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for Tommy/“

Oscar pulled his usual chair to sit next to you.

”I get that, but I’ll make sure you both have a great experience, I’ve arranged for some VIP passes, and you won’t be working, so you’ll have access to the paddock and private viewing area, it’ll be safe and Tommy will get to see the cars in action, I promise it’ll be fun.”

“I’m not sure-“

”If you feel at any point that it’s overwhelming;ming you can escape to my room and stay there until the end.” Your resolve was wavering as you thought about how excited Tommy will be.

”Well, okay, alright.” You agreed but your voice was still tinged with uncertainty.

“Great!” Oscar’s smile widened. “I’ll make sure everything is set up for you, trust me, you’re going to love it.”

The day of the race arrived, and you found yourself with Tommy at the circuit. your nerves are a mix of excitement and apprehension. The roar of the engines, the buzz of the crowd, it was a world you had seen inside at McLaren but never experienced firsthand like this. Tommy is practically bouncing with excitement, the pass around his neck is like a golden ticket.

You were only there for the race day, and when you met Oscar by the Mclaren motorhome there was still a couple of hours until the start of the race.

”Hey, future race car driver.” Oscar said ruffling Tom’s hair. “Ready to see some action?”

Tommy nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with wonder. “Yes! Can I sit in your car?”

”We’ll see what we can do.” Oscar laughed, a warm and infectious sound. “Come on, let’s get you both set up.”

Oscar led you through the motorhome, you greeted your colleagues that you worked with and smiled. Tom was holding Oscar’s hand as he showed him around. Your son was mesmerised.

”Can I see that one up close?” Tom pulled on Oscar’s sleeve to gain his attention. Oscar glanced at you for approval, and you nodded, smiling at Tom’s enthusiasm.

”Of course, let’s get you a closer look.” You stood at the back of the garage, as Oscar took Tom to his car. One of the media members asked if they could film Tom and you agreed, he was dressed in a mini McLaren kit that he got as a gift from one of your friends for his birthday.

Oscar pulls Tom up and puts him in the cockpit, Tommy giggled, his laughter gaining the attention of the mechanics. One got the wheel and gave it to Oscar to put it in place. Tommy instantly leaned forwards to be able to hold it, but he couldn’t see over the cockpit anyways. The wheel was too heavy for him to move, but he was having the time of his life. Oscar glanced at you and he couldn’t help but feel proud seeing how happy you looked.

It warmed your heart seeing how happy Tom looked, and seeing how Oscar is with him made you feel some type of way. Tommy looked up so much to Oscar, since he met him at the MTC Oscar has been his idol, he’s always asking for him, and video calls have began to be a thing now.

”Mummy, look at me!” Tommy called for you, you walked a little closer and smiled at your son.

”You look like a racer, baby.” You tell him and he grins. “Oscar better watch out.”

”Oh I will, who knows, maybe he’ll come for my seat.”

After Tom had his fun in the car you get to the hospitality on top of the McLaren garage, your seat has a view over the pit lane. One of your coworkers comes and keeps you company for a while before she has to rush back to work.

During a break in the action, Oscar joined you with a wide smile on his face. He saw the hat you now supported with his number on it, custody of someone from his team.

“Having fun?” He asked, leaning in close so you could hear him over the noise.

Tom nodded vigorously, turning to you with a beaming smile. “This is the best day ever mummy!”

You chuckle, your heart swelling with happiness at seeing Tommy so thrilled.

”Thank you, Oscar.” You said meeting his eyes. “This means a lot to him.”

”I’m glad you’re both here.” Oscar’s expression softened, his eyes holding warmth that made your heart flutter, he said softly.. “I’d love for you to come to more races, if you’re interested.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you and at Tommy, made you realise how much he genuinely cared. It wasn’t;t just about impressing you or having fun; it was about building a connection, creating moments that mattered.

”We’ll have to see about that.” You replied, a small smile on your lips. The idea of letting Oscar into your lives was still daunting, but seeing how happy he made Tom, how happy he made you feel, was starting to shift your perspective.

After the race, you were told that Oscar asked for you to wait for him. Since Tommy was crashing from the activities of the day, you went to Oscar’s drivers room, which he showed to you for an instant like this earlier in the day. Once you settled on the sofa/bed, Tommy was out in an instant. You were on your phone when Oscar came in, he was a little surprised but pleased to see you in his room.

He had showered and was dressed to go home, he leaned on the wall across from you, his eyes not leaving yours.

”Go on a date with me, just dinner, the two of us.” Oscar’s voice was low, but you heard him loud and clear. Your heart skipped a beat at his request.

”OScar, I really appreciate the offer, but my focus is Tom, I’m not sure dating is a good idea right now.” You replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. Despite how Tom couldn’t stop talking about everything that happened today, relaying everything that happened in an enthusiastic way that only children could do it in. You found yourself smiling at his words, feeling a warmth you hadn’t expected. You can no longer ignore the impact Oscar is having on Tom. Their bond had grown stronger, and it was ever clear to everyone that Tom adored him, but it wasn’t just Tom. You couldn’t deny the way Oscar made you feel, the way he looked at you with genuine care and interest, the way he treated Tom with kindness and respect.

You had always been wary of letting someone into your life, afraid of the disruption it might cause for Tom and the vulnerability it required. But seeing Oscar with Tommy, witnessing his patience, his kindness, and the genuine joy he brought to your son, made you reconsider your stance.

You had spent so long building walls around your heart, protecting Tom and yourself from potential hurt. But those walls had also kept out the possibility of new happiness. And Oscar, with his easy smile and genuine care, was chipping away at those barriers in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I understand, really.” Oscar said after a pause of silence. “But I feel like we have something special, and I’d love to see where it could go, I care about you and Tom and I’m will to go at whatever pace you;re comfortable with.”

His words resonated with you, touching a part of you that longed for connection and support. You knew how important it was to be cautious, but you also couldn’t ignore the possibility of finding happiness with someone who genuinely cared for both you and Tom. And seeing Oscar right now he looked vulnerable and genuine.

You took a deep breath, your mind made up. "Okay, Oscar. Let’s give it a try, I’d like to go out with you," you said, your voice firm yet hopeful. "But I want to take things slow. I need to be sure it’s right for Tommy and me."

You could see the relief on his face, it made you smile. “Of course, we’ll take it as slow as you need, I’m just happy you’re giving us a chance.”

The night of your first date arrived, and you felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. You had chosen a cosy, intimate restaurant, nothing too flashy, just a place where you could talk and enjoy each other’s company. As you got ready, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation, wondering what the evening would lead to.

Oscar arrived right on time, looking effortlessly handsome and a bit nervous himself. He greeted you with a smile that melted away your apprehensions. "You look beautiful." He said softly, his eyes reflecting genuine admiration.

"Thank you." You replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look great too."

The dinner was perfect, filled with laughter, conversation, and a deepening connection. Oscar was everything you had hoped for, kind, attentive, and genuinely interested in you and your life. He listened to your stories, shared his own experiences, and made you feel seen and appreciated in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

By the end of the night, as he walked you to your door, you realised just how much you had enjoyed his company. It wasn’t just about having a romantic interest; it was about finding someone who respects your boundaries, who cares about your happiness, and who is willing to be a part of your and Tom’s life.

Before saying goodnight, Oscar took your hand gently, his eyes searching yours.

"I had a really great time tonight." he said, his voice sincere. "I hope we can do this again."

You smiled, a sense of contentment settling over you. "I did too, Oscar. I think I’d like that."

As you closed the door behind him, you felt a sense of hope and possibility bloom within you. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to imagine a future where you weren’t alone, where Tom had a positive male role model, and where you had someone to share the ups and downs of life with.

Months passed since you decided to give Oscar a chance and go on a date. Life began to change for the better, in unexpected ways. Oscar became a constant and important part in your and Tom’s world. He seamlessly integrated himself in your routines and lives. He showed up for dinners, outings, even a couple School events, and the quiet everyday moments that truly mattered. He wasn’t a visitor in your lives, he’s becoming a part of the family.

Oscar’s patience and kindness never wavered. He was there for Tom’s ups and downs, helping with homework, playing games, and simply being present. You saw the way Tom’s face lit up when Oscar was around, how he looked forward to their time together, and how he had started to look up to Oscar as a father figure. You were scared at the beginning that with the tantrums and fights you have every now and then with Tom, Oscar would bolt but he stood there and supported you with them.

One day, you found yourself at a part, watching Oscar and Tom play a game of football. Tom’s laughter filled the air and his joy infectious as he ran after the ball, his short legs moving with determination. Oscar let Tom score, cheering him on with genuine enthusiasm.

As you watched them together, a deep sense of contentment washed over you. It was in these simple moments that you realised how much your life had changed for the better. Oscar had not only brought joy to Tom’s life but had also reignited a spark of happiness and hope in your own heart, a hope that you thought you wouldn't have anymore.

Reflecting on your journey, you thought about the fear and apprehension you had felt when Oscar first showed interest in you. You had been so protective of Tom and cautious about letting someone new into your lives. But Oscar had proved himself time and again, showing you that it was possible to find love and support without compromising your responsibilities as a mother.

Oscar was different. He understood your fears and respected your boundaries. He was patient and gentle, gradually earning your trust and showing you that it was okay to open your heart again. He wasn’t just there for the good times; he was committed to being there through the challenges, too.

As Tom came running over, his face flushed with excitement, he jumped into your arms, babbling about the game. Oscar followed, a warm smile on his face.

“You have a future football star here.” He said, ruffling Tom’s hair affectionately.

You laughed, hugging Tom close.

”He’s got a great coach.” You replied, meeting Oscar’s eyes with gratitude.

Oscar’s gaze softened, and he reached out to take your hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I’m just glad to be here.” He said quietly, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings.

In that moment, you felt a surge of emotion, a realisation of how much Oscar had come to mean to you and Tom. He had become a constant presence, a source of support and love that you hadn’t dared to hope for. The walls you had built around your heart had crumbled, replaced by a newfound sense of security and happiness.

As you walked home together, Tom chattering excitedly between you, you knew that you had made the right decision. Oscar wasn’t just a boyfriend or a new figure in your life; he was a partner, a confidant, and a loving presence for Tom. He was the family you had hoped for but never thought you could have.

And from that day on, Oscar continued to be a steadfast presence in your life. He was there for the celebrations and the struggles, always with a smile and a helping hand. He became a father figure to Tom, guiding him with patience and love, and a partner to you, sharing in the joys and challenges of everyday life.

Looking back on the journey, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. You had opened your heart to love and, in doing so, found a partner who was committed to building a future with you and Tom. Oscar had not only filled a void in your life but had also enriched it in ways you had never imagined possible.

The second best decision you took, after deciding to keep Tom, is giving Oscar a chance.

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[nachojaehyun]

you give good love

pairing. brother’s best friend! idol! dino + fem! reader

summary. as lee chan’s eyes met yours again, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

w.c. 5.10K

playlist. kind of based off of you give good love by whitney houston but not really i was just listening to it while writing this

warnings. [PLEASE READ] reader is hoshi’s sister, mentions of freak dino 🫢, smut under the cut, PWP, afab reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom chan, pussy eating from the BACK, uses of pet names, chan has a BIG dick, BULGE KINK, very little dirty talking, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl please), creampie duh — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. pi-cheollin is the reason i live and breathe. also i might write chunsunie x pi-cheollin fics soon 😭 also thank you guys so so so much for 2K notes on the wonwoo fic 🙇‍♀️ super grateful for all your love, more soon. this is also my first ever long fic, so i hope you like it. enjoy!

“so yeah, those are the dates and timings of the flight. now, check your schedule.”

soonyoung could hear the ruffling of paper as he waited on the phone. the air con blasted in his face, evaporating any signs of sweat from his pores.

“yeah, i think i’ll be able to make it!” your voice chirped. soonyoung couldn’t help the smile on his face. “thank god! also, don’t worry about being lonely, jeonghan hyung’s sister will also be there, and also wonwoo’s sister.”

“i haven’t seen them in so long! wow, a true trip down memory lane,” you sighed, finally setting aside the calendar on your lap. “they ask about you a lot, i told you to exchange contacts with them!” your brother scolded you.

“i may have forgotten… but all that aside, how much do i need to pack?” you nervously bit your lip, contemplating how much shopping you would need to do.

“it’s a summer trip for one week, basically a mini vacation. pack a good amount of shirts and tops and modest shorts. bring your grandma style swimsuits for the pool.”

“grandma style swimsuit? oh please! i didn’t work out all winter to wear a one-piece!” you complained, flexing your biceps in front of the mirror. “i’ll bring what i want to bring.”

“and if i see any of these perverts staring at you, i’ll chop your head off too, yeah?” soonyoung sighed. “yeah yeah, they are the perverts. and you’re the polished lamb of jesus who has never gawked at wonwoo’s sister right?”

your rhetorical question has your brother stunned as he gapes into the abyss, his mouth filling up with the cool air from the air con. “i’m… how did you—” he begins, only to be cut off by the doorbell of his shared apartment.

“that’s the others. look, i’ll leave now, but make sure to pack properly, okay? text me if you need anything. see you soon.”

with that, he hung up. you smiled as you set down your phone, already deciding the outfits in your head.

as you walked over to your closet, your phone interrupted your thought process with a loud notification.

이찬: oi

이찬: did you get the plane tickets?

with a sigh, you texted back your brother’s best friend, who had somehow managed to find out about soonyoung inviting you.

you: ya, i will be coming.

you could see the dots bouncing on the screen, but you chose to ignore them. switching over to a music app, you started to scroll through and pick your random playlist.

your brother’s song, God of Music started to play and you threw your phone on the bed, enjoying the music.

you could text chan back later. he was really annoying, and it’s not like he meant anything to you anyway.

your phone buzzed with his notifications as you sorted through swim suits. “hmm, this makes my ass look fat right?”

as you landed in the jeju international airport, you gathered your luggage and made your way to the gates.

your brother was already waiting outside, clad in a mask and a cap. wonwoo and his sister accompanied him, smiling and waving at you.

“hey guys!” you hugged them, before fixing the crop top that rode up your waist. “i missed you so much!” minji (wonwoo’s sister) squealed.

the four of you got in the car after shoving your luggage in the back. wonwoo sat next to your brother, scrolling through his phone as you and minji chatted their ears off.

soonyoung couldn’t help but peek at the rear view mirror ever so often, catching glances of minji and smiling to himself.

you wanted to call him out, but decided against embarrassing your brother so early into the trip.

within 30 minutes, you had reached the share house. it was a beautiful property, surrounded by greenery. the sounds of waves crashing on the beach wallowed around you as you dragged your suitcase up the ramp.

“eunsok is dying to meet you! we must make a group chat this time, so that we remember to check up on each other, yeah?” minji helped you with your handbag, smiling as you nodded enthusiastically.

in front of the main door, you took in a sharp breath, before pushing the mahogany portico open.

immediately inside, you were greeted by jeonghan, joshua and mingyu lounging about on the couch. however, upon the sound of your entrance, eunseok ran down the stairs, engulfing both you and minji in a bone-crushing hug.

“i missed you!” she screamed, nearly tackling you on the floor. with a giggle, you hugged her back. “me too! its just sad that sophie couldn’t join us.”

muttering agreements under their giggly breath, the two helped you get up, and greet the others.

as you answered jeonghan’s questions about your well-being, you heard heavy footsteps from the stairs.

lee chan’s body appeared downstairs. when his gaze countered yours, you choked on your words.

it had been nearly 5 years since you had seen him in person. and wow, had he changed. dino, as he was famously known as these days, sported much bigger muscles, and a sculpted face. his hairstyle was finally suiting his face, a beautiful contrast to the bowl cuts you had seen him in during childhood.

for the first time in your life, you actually looked at him. and boy, did he look good. the tank top he wore showed off his body as he walked towards you, checking you out silently.

he had to admit, you surprised him. your black crop top, barely there jean shorts, and long brown hair came as a huge shock to chan.

he had remembered you as the snot-faced bratty sister of his best friend. the girl in pigtails who would cry every time he brought up your crush in middle school.

as lee chan’s eyes met yours, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

“hi,” chan finally placed himself in front of you, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “hi,” you breathed out, clutching the handle of your suitcase tighter.

“oh, you guys are meeting after so long!” mingyu chuckled, his eyes wandering around the room as he noticed the tension between you and his youngest member.

“yeah,” you smiled, transfixed by chan’s eyes. his plush lips parted as he glanced at your glossy ones, before quickly scanning your face.

“okay, that’s enough of your weird staring contest,” soonyoung placed a hand on chan’s chest, pushing him back to create some distance between you two.

“i’ll help you get to your room,” he turned to you. “you’re lucky, since you get it to yourself, but its comparatively smaller and narrower than the others—”

“wait, weren’t we supposed to buy alcohol and meat from the store on the way back?” wonwoo suddenly remembered, making all the eyes in the room turn to him.

“shit!” minji slapped her forehead, tutting. “we’ll go get them then! you wanna come with?” she smiled at you, eunseok joining in.

“i think i should set up my things first yeah? but take soonyoung in my place,” you shoved your brother forward. “he’d love to go grocery shopping with you.”

minji’s cheeks flared up as she straightened her posture, nodding. “sure yeah.”

within minutes, wonwoo, minji, eunseok, soonyoung and mingyu headed off to the car, ready to buy crates of beer for the evening.

as the door shut behind him, jeonghan threaded his hands through his hair, smirking. “dino-yah,” he cooed. “why don’t you help her with her luggage?”

almost immediately, joshua joined in, egging on the maknae as both of you felt the heat creep up on your neck.

wordlessly, chan snatched your suitcase from your hand, beckoning you upstairs. you bowed at the two elder to you, before running up to chan.

he led you to a small room in the very corner of the second floor, opening the door with his leg as he walked in.

chan cleared his throat as you walked in, placing your hands on your bare waist. “so, this is your room.”

you nodded at him, taking in your space for the rest of the trip. the room was furnished with a queen sized bed, a love-seat in the corner, a small desk and chair and a balcony in the very end.

“this door,” chan walked over to a door that sat perpendicular to the entry. “this is the door to a common bathroom. its a jack and jill one, that connects to the room opposite to you.”

“oh? and who’s in the room opposite to me?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. with a dramatic sigh, chan leaned against the bathroom door, swinging his head to meet your eyes.

“its me.”

your breath hitched as he gulped. “w-wow,” you stuttered out. “sounds great, chan. looks like we are forced together again,” you smirked, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

he knew what you were referring to.

back when you were kids, and way before the idiot in front of you had signed with Pledis, you and soonyoung had gone to his house for a sleepover. chan’s mother had insisted on having you sleep on the bed, since “the floor is no place for a lady to sleep.” you and chan shared the bed, while soonyoung dozed off on the ground.

you were 14 at that time, and you remember how you skin had heated up when chan inched closer to you. “there’s no one to save you from my tickles now, crybaby!” the 15 year old boy had threatened.

yet, chan could barely focus on the flashback, instead focusing on the way your breasts nearly fell out from the neckline of your top.

you noticed his staring. smirking, you drew closer, tightening the cross of your arms.

“what’s this now, you’re ogling at me?”

you had him cornered. chan’s back was against the wall at you forced yourself into his space, breasts touching his hard torso.

“i—in you dreams!” he lied through his teeth, nervousness oozing out of his soul as he stared down at your tits.

god, the things he would do to slot his dick between those beautiful, gorgeous, one of a kind—

“my eyes are up here, channie,” you stuck your tongue out at him, before backing away and walking up to your suitcase.

dino felt his blood rushing south as you bent over to pick your bag up and place it on the table.

you purposefully wiggled your ass, humming to yourself. “channie,” you called out, voice as sweet as a siren.

“yeah?” dino collected himself, shaking away the filth that plagued his mind. two can play that game, he decided, biting his lip.

“can you come help me put my things in the bathroom? i have too much to unpack.”

with a nod, he walked over to your space, his chest touching your back as he leaned over your shoulder. “why did you pack so much, hm?” he teased you, running his fingers down your smooth arms.

not backing down from the challenge, you pushed your ass against him, whipping your head to meet his eyes. “i just wanted to look good, y’know? in case there was a strong, buff, hot man i wanted to seduce.”

with a hiss at your movements, chan’s hands flew to your hips. “yeah? you’ve grown up so much that you seduce men now?”

“oh, i do a lot more than just seduce,” you giggled, skincare long forgotten on the desk as you turned around, hopping on the wooden platform as your arms loosely slung around his neck.

chan slotted his knee between your legs, the pervert in him alive and breathing at the sight of you. you were driving him insane.

how you had managed to change so much over a few years had him baffled. instead of worrying about soonyoung, chan thought with his dick.

“what do you do then?” he questioned, eyes trained on your lips as you spoke. you pushed your clothed cunt down on his knee, biting back a moan.

“i think i would rather show you what i do than tell you,” you whimpered out, darkened eyes peering into his hazy ones.

chan bent his knee further into you, causing a delicious moan to escape your throat. “getting bold now, aren’t you?”

before you could even comprehend his words, your pussy spoke before you, hips rutting into his knee. however, a sharp knock on the door interrupted your little hump session.

“chan? y/n?” seungcheol’s voice spoke from behind the door. “you guys in there?”

chan quickly separated from you, walking closer to the door to answer. “yeah, i’m just helping her with her stuff. what’s up?”

“well, we were ordering some take out, so if you guys could come down and give your preferences, it would be great.”

“yeah, be there in a second,” chan glanced back at you, your teary eyes meeting his. the fucked out expression on your face made his dick jump to life.

but the heat of the moment had passed, which painted both of your cheek's a deep shade of red. realization hit dino way faster than it hit you. shooting you a tight-lipped smile, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

with a sigh, chan left the room and left you breathless, panting as your senses slowly returned. the fire of lust in your stomach had dimmed slightly, as realization dawned on you.

what the fuck just happened? and why did you like it?

nightfall arrived faster than you expected. but the cool air surrounding the beach raised bumps on your skin as you shoved grilled meat down your throat.

seungkwan and mingyu worked on the grill, with vernon filling up everyone’s plates with the expensive store bought items.

you sat on a stool next to seungcheol, sipping on the beer can that was handed to you. when everyone was busy with their own thing, the leader turned to you and smiled.

“so, how have you been? a long time has passed since we spoke right?”

you had always found comfort in seungcheol. he was the leader of the group, a very reliable and trustworthy person. you remember asking him for advice when you got into college.

“i’ve been well, how are you?” you set your can aside. “any luck with the ladies you used to complain about?”

he laughs loudly at that, spooning a mouthful of ramen. “no, i’m still stuck with one-night stands for now. dating is too complicated!”

when chan hears his hyung talking about his love life, he scoots closer to the both of you, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“what about you? get any action?” seungcheol giggled.

you could practically feel dino’s presence beside you like a wavering shadow, and you chose to exploit it. how dare he leave you with an unfinished orgasm?

“oh yeah, plenty!” you smirked. “don’t tell soonyoung, but i’m lowkey addicted to sex? just feels so good to let off some steam, you know? and the dudes around me are so easy… they fall into my hands like domino.”

the harsh truth behind those words were only known to you. you had been on a dry spell for nearly 2 months now. your fingers and toys were not enough, and you were pretty sure you had started to hallucinate about dick.

“wah, kwon hoshi’s sister is all grown up, huh? good for you girl, go get them!” seungcheol cheered you on, clinking his can with yours.

you sneakily turned to look at chan, who had suddenly grown silent in his conversation with seokmin. “dino-yah. are you okay?”

chan’s eyes met yours and he immediately tensed up. you noticed how white his knuckles had turned, just from gripping wooden chopsticks.

“i’m fine,” he smiled, eyes dancing over your body before he returned to his friend. your bralette was doing nothing to hide your slightly tanned skin, black shorts making your perky ass stand out even more.

dino mentally cursed soonyoung for even allowing you to wear that. but then again, his best friend was too preoccupied with his little crush to pay you any attention.

the rest of the mini barbeque was a tough time for him. the poor boy could only think about your tantalizing words to seungcheol, calling a sweet string of cusses to all the men that touched you before he ever could.

you noticed how your plan was working, hiding your smirk behind a colorful can of beer as lee chan suffered in silence.

within a few hours of outdoor activity, jun and minghao said goodnight to everyone first, tired of all the hustle and bustle. a few others followed suit, yawning and sighing.

at the end of the night greetings, you, dino, wonwoo, seungcheol, soonyoung, minji, and joshua remained near the pool. you saw how your brother kept leeching up to minji, cracking idiotic jokes under her brother's watchful eye.

"i... i think i'll head to bed now, good night guys!" you stretched up from your chair. chan's eyes followed the way your skin gleamed under the fairy lights. he gulped loudly as you purposefully swayed your hips while walking inside.

"you can follow her in, chan-ah," wonwoo smiled, shifting his gaze to the youngest momentarily. "i'll keep kwon hoshi here for a while."

"what are you on about?" dino tried to play it off, scoffing as he crunched up a beer can. wonwoo could only roll his eyes.

"it's obvious you like her, and i'm just giving you a chance to work on it. you really should tone down the staring... soonyoung would kill you if he found out, and i am willing to help you for now. so don't be an idiot and go."

smiling toothily at his hyung, dino whispered out an "i love you" before running up the stairs. he reached his room without breaking a sweat and decided to shower before doing anything.

however, when he was about to slide the door to your shared bathroom open, he heard a loud sigh coming from inside. shamelessly, chan pushed his ear against the door, curious as to what you were doing.

your sigh was followed by a small whisper that sounded like "i can't believe i'm doing this." then, chan heard a zipper being opened.

his eyes widened as he realized what you were actually doing. "no way," he mouthed to himself, feeling his boner re-emerging at a sudden squelching noise.

"mhm," you moaned behind the door, and the pervert in the next room could only imagine what you looked like. "f-fuck chan!" you whimpered, and dino felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

the towel dropped from his hand, as his fingers sneaked to the hem of his basketball shorts. with a silent groan, chan stroked his chub as his eyes squeezed shut.

he pulled his cock out, swiping at his tip with his thumb. his brain worked overtime to imagine your hand in place of his, pretty eyes staring up at him.

meanwhile, in the bathroom, you leaned against the counter as your fingers stretched open your pussy. "feels so good," you whimpered, pitch increasing as you imagined his veiny hands pumping into you.

unbeknownst to each other, you and chan had cum to the thoughts of one another that night. chan made sure to cum at the same time as you, recognizing your borderline screams as you tipped over the edge.

what a filthy girl, he thought to himself, panting as his release spurted onto the towel he had discarded.

the starting 3 full days of the trip had made you avoid lee chan like he was the plague but personified.

every glance into his eyes had made you remember what you had done on that one night, and guilt seemed to sour your mood.

everyone had decided to go to the beach after having a few afternoon drinks. you spent your time around eunseok and vernon, gossipping about office trolls and work place shenanigans.

chan was simply drinking with seungkwan and minghao, refusing to give you any attention. although he was confused as to why you were ignoring him, he remained silent and decided to give you space.

jihoon suddenly joined into his conversation, hair tied back into a messy ponytail. “dino-ah,” he smirked, snatching a shot glass from the youngest’s hand. “i hear that there’s gonna be loads of girls on the beach today. wanna check some out? we can share if you want.”

as dino downed his shot, he stared back at his hyung with a grin. “don’t you remember what happened the last time we shared a girl? we had to take her to the hospital because she passed out!”

the group laughed, reminiscing the old memory. it wasn’t odd for them to share one-night stands. the boys were family, and they strongly believed in putting each other first.

the large number of giggles near you caught your attention. you and eunseok walked over to the boys, as she queried about their conversation.

“nothing much, it was just a last minute plan in prague… god we almost got arrested,” jihoon snickered, elbowing dino’s side. the youngest could only smirk, pouring himself another shot of soju.

questions flooded your mind as you stared at the man who had you in a chokehold. dino was clad in nothing but swim shorts, his taut muscles on full display for anyone to ogle over.

as the topic changed, your curiosity got the best of you. you staggered over to seungcheol, knowing that the boy would kill to gossip.

“oh hey y/n,” he greeted you with a tilt of his beer can, sunglasses perched upon his nose.

“hi,” you settled down next to him, your can of lemon soda forgotten as your lips quivered. “you look like you want to ask me something,” he chuckled, eyes scanning your face.

“you know me so well,” you smiled, twiddling your thumbs. “i can ask you anything right?”

“yeah, sure.”

“no repercussions?”

“no repercussions.”

with a sigh, you turned to face the leader as you took in a breath. “what happened in prague?”

seungcheol nearly choked on his drink, sputtering out flicks of the liquid as he stared at you with his eyes widened behind his shades.

“of everything you could have asked… why that?” he groaned, wiping his mouth. “come on,” you whined. “jihoon said it like it sounded so fun! i just wanna know!”

with a glance around to see if anyone was looking, the leader smiled and leaned in closer to you. “we swore we would never tell this to anyone but us… but you’re family too,” he began, voice merely above a whisper.

as seungcheol tattled on about the shenanigans that the idol group had been up to, you found yourself gasping. the wild story, the borderline illegality of it all— it was too much. you squeezed your thighs together when seungcheol skimmed past the details of the night they spent.

lee chan’s eyes followed the two of you, completely misinterpreting the situation. your shuffling thighs, masked giggles and wide eyes seemed like flirting to him as he clenched his jaw, downing his shot.

why were you making this so hard for him?

it was nearly 1 in the morning when you woke up in cold sweat.

your narrow room greeted you in a greyish hue, curtains pulled back to let the moonlight in. with a sigh, you resorted to calming down, taking deep breaths as you heard the waves crashing on shore. a slight buzzing noise filled your ears. it seemed to be coming from your door, but your mind could barely focus.

your dream had completely ruined your chances of sleep. a ticket to dreamland seemed impossible as seungcheol’s words floated in your head.

i’ve never seen dino go that feral on someone before… he was insatiable.

she squirted so hard when he was done, it was a huge mess. wonwoo’s glasses got drenched-

with a sigh, you take off your sleeping shorts and toss them to the side, fingers dipping down to your core.

your hole was slicked up, a sticky mess from your vivid imagination. your index finger prodded at your entrance, making you let out a sob.

your body was frustrated, in agony. you wanted to feel chan’s touch instead of your own hands, wanted to feel him buried inside you.

you let out another pained moan, pushing your first knuckle inside your fluttering walls. however, you fail to register the sounds you have been making, and that the buzzing from the outside had suddenly stopped.

you spread your legs wider, pumping your digits inside, letting out a hurt whimper. it would never be enough.

suddenly, the door to your shared bathroom opened with a slam, and a concerned chan appeared in your doorway. “are you okay—”

the sound of his voice egged you on further, hole gushing with a fresh serving of arousal. you all but sobbed at his direction, sex induced fog clouding your brain as your fingers fastened.

“chan,” you whimpered. in the doorway, with water drenched all over his face and a can of shaving cream in his hand, lee chan groaned at the sight in front him.

“help me…” you pleaded. “oh baby,” he growled, setting the can on the floor as he walked over to you. his hands parted your thighs even further, eyes examining the mess in between your legs.

with a sharp smack, he swatted your fingers away, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy.

morals be damned. soonyoung be damned.

“look at you,” his eyes stared into your hazed ones, a hand smacking your heat. the friction had your hips bucking.

“so soaked, hmm? what were you thinking of princess?” he bit his lip. “you… always thinking of you.”

“fuck,” he groaned, tilting his head back to compose himself. “y/n,” he sighed, one of his hands cupping your face.

you leaned into his touch, lips jutted out in a pout. “tell me you want this, and it’s not just something you’d forget. tell me you want me, and i’m all yours.”

with a smile, you turn aside to place a kiss on his palm. “i’ve never wanted something more in my life, lee chan.”

that seemed to be all the confirmation he needed as he flipped you over onto your stomach, slotting himself between your legs before he discarded his sweats on the floor.

“you have no idea how patient i have been,” he grunts, manhandling you to arch your back as your ass presses against his torso.

he dips his body down, face to face with your pussy. tantalizing, he licks a stripe up your folds, making your knees buckle on the mattress.

you try to look back to see him, but its impossible to move when his hands grab your ass cheeks, forcing his mouth back on you. dino’s chin brushes against your clit as he licks at your hole with a groan.

“so wet for me already, bet i could just slide in and you’d take it.”

you can only moan his name in return, clutching the bedsheets as he ate it from the back. his tongue fucks into your folds, lapping at the arousal that drips out of you in copious amounts.

“f-fuck channie! i’m—”

before you can finish, chan is moving away from your heat. the sudden lack of his mouth has you moaning and whining like a brat.

“easy doll, i don’t want you to cum on my face right now,” he pats your ass, flipping you over to your back as you finally get a view of him.

his slick covered face dips down to meet your lips. the kiss is searing and filthy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

your hands reach for his hair, pulling him impossibly close as you suck on his tongue. using your neediness as a distraction, he quickly angles his hips and pushes his tip past your folds.

“shit!” you cuss, gasping and pulling away. in the heat of the moment, you never actually registered how obnoxiously big chan’s cock was.

as you look down to where your bodies meet, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. his fat tip exerts an experimental thrust, and the sheer stretch of his head has you whining.

“shh baby, it’s okay,” he assures you, pressing small kisses along the column of your throat. “just breathe for me?”

you inhale slowly, allowing your tense body to relax and adjust to him. dino’s attempts at distracting you do not go futile as you feel his fingers pinching your nipples. the pain in your chest makes the ache between your legs lose all meaning.

steadily, he pushes himself inside you, inch by inch entering your welcoming walls that spasm around him. when he finally bottoms out, you feel him in your gut.

this was the fullest you had ever felt. chan’s mouth licks the sweat around your breast, savouring in the salty taste.

his arms rest on either side of your head, making you relish the view. when he finally looks up, you pull him in for a kiss.

its sloppy, and his teeth clash into yours, but you could not care less. your pussy clenches around him as you pull away, nodding feverishly. “chan… if you don’t fuck me right now, i might die— hah!”

one languid thrust into you has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. his metal chain dangles on your chin, the coolness contrasting the heat that squelches down there.

chan takes full advantage of his dancer body as he pistons his hips into you. the stretch has you reeling, nails clawing down his broad back as his body leans into you.

dino’s lips find the spot on your neck, licking and sucking till red and purple bloom on your skin. his matted hair sticks to his forehead, as you turn your head to the side— the visuals becoming too much for you to handle.

you’re met with his forearm in your sight, fingers tightly gripping the bedsheets.

without a second thought, you lean forward and bit his skin, making him groan out as his cock twitches inside you.

“fu- you’re killing me baby,” he smirked, licking his lips as he forces you to look at him.

the brute force of his thrusts has your body thrashing, legs shaking with pleasure.

“feels so good channie!” you hiccup, mind cloud. the only thing you could think of was lee chan and his oh so perfect dick that was ravaging your insides.

when chan looks down, his eyes roll to the back of his head. he could see the outline of himself in your stomach, prodding out with every thrust.

a creamy and frothy ring lined the base of his cock, a testament to how your greedy cunt was sucking him in. your warm walls squeezed hard around him when one of his hands dropped down to press the bulge on your stomach.

“feel me in there, don’t ya?” he babbled, hips faltering at your vicious grip. “y-yes!” you cried out, feeling your stomach contracting.

with a loud growl, chan’s lips rest upon yours. “you close baby? can feel your greedy little cunt crying f’me,” he mumbled, licking your bottom lip.

your pathetic nods made him remove his hand from your stomach and find your clit instead, circling the bud as you mewled.

“cum for me baby, show me how much you needed this cock in you,” his eyes fluttered shut, forehead falling against yours.

“i’m cu— oh fuck,” you whimpered, suddenly feeling your orgasm rip through your body. your pussy clamped down on him, gripping his length like a fleshlight.

dino moaned in your ear about how good you felt, thrusts turning sloppy as he pressed kisses on your earlobe.

he continued to move inside you, drawing out your orgasm as he chased after his. overstimulation had tears spilling from your eyes, clawing at his pecs as you sobbed. “ ‘s too much channie! hurts!”

“just a little more baby, clench round me like that aga— FUCK!” he lost himself in you, feeling your walls clamp down on his cock, milking him for all his worth as his orgasm washed over him.

in a desperate attempt, chan’s thrusts turned erratic as he pumped his load inside you. “s-so good,” he whimpered, hips stilling inside you as he softened. you groaned at the warmth, shutting your eyes in ecstasy.

you both were panting, bodies entwined in a soft caress. time seemed to still when lee chan looked into your eyes again, smiling like a lovesick puppy when you kissed him.

your mouth whined pathetically when he pulled out, falling to your side as he sighed. wanting to be close to him, you shuffled near him.

your fingers dropped down to your pussy as you tried to plug his cum inside you, moaning at the sensation of being so incredibly full and warm.

“that was… the best sex i’ve ever had, sheesh,” dino wrapped an arm around you, pulling you impossibly close.

you brought your hand up to place on his sweaty chest, giggling as he kissed the top of your head. “better than prague?” you teased.

lee chan’s pecs tensed under your hold, as his eyes widened, staring at you in the dark. “what— who told you about that!” he exclaimed, ears dusted pink.

“seungcheol’s very easy to gossip with,” you winked, staring up at his pretty face. “wow… i can’t believe this hyung,” he grumbled, hearing you laugh.

“hey! this only happened because i was thinking about everything you did to that poor girl,” you smacked his muscle, hearing him wince. “why were you so feral that night, lee chan?” you voiced your question out loud.

he sucked in a breath as his grip tightened around your shoulder. “you really want to know?”

“i’m dying from curiosity,” you mused. with a sigh, chan turned his head to face you fully, meeting your eyes in the moonlight, before he whispered out an answer.

“she had the same name as you.”

© nachojaehyun, 2024

[leejenowrld]

in your eyes — part 1

word count — 34.5k words

genre — smut, fluff, angst

pairing — lee jeno x reader

part 1 — part 2

synopsis — campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you. now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.

chapter contents — explicit sexual content, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, biting, breath play consensual choking, consensual slapping, orgasm denial/control, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, very hard dom!jeno, sub!reader, consistent unprotected sex (be safe!), use of ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, grinding, reader rides jeno, exhibitionism, intense emotional dynamics, strong language, and explicit content, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking, alcohol, a lot of college party scenes, oc is uninterested in jeno at first but he changes that (and quickly!), mentions of fuckboy!jeno, initially fucks her roommate, but falls in love with yn’s stuff that’s around the apartment, himym!scene inspo, if you know you know, oc is a hot bassist in a band, jeno sees her play, gets hard and turned on seeing her play the strings with her fingers, imagines touching her, jeno and oc unexpectedly have the exact same matching tattoo, so many girl moments, kpop ‘00 liners, nct ‘00 line, sunwoo, eric, yeji and oc are in a band, inappropriate, mature humor, jeno is very forward, very confident, very daring, very self assured and dominant, arin causes a lot of trouble, jeno makes reader very shy and flustered, intimidating jeno, sweetheart jeno, emotional moments, appearance from nct foreign swagger line, jeno takes reader home, boyfriend jeno (kinda), watch as jeno and oc fall in love, jeno always touching reader under her skirt lmao, smut text portion, so much angst and pain, heartbreak

authors note — happy birthday lee jeno <3 i love you. please interact and leave an ask or message mwah. also there will be a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up. also thank you my bae @jenolala for helping me with ideas and being my personal reader i love you.

in your eyes masterlist

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Lee Jeno was the bane of your existence.

The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Lee Jeno. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.

You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him. Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts against your own will.

Nayoung’s infatuation with Jeno has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of God among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He couldn’t be that good…

Lee Jeno was the craze around campus, and he had always been. He was apparently good in bed, a phenomenal lover with a big cock, smart, hot, handsome, and knew how to fuck and treat a girl right. He was social and friendly, outgoing, and everyone knew who he was and everyone loved him. But not you though. For you, it’s all just noise. You’re simply not interested in him.

You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts. You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her.

“I'm not even talking...” you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Jeno constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.

“He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me,” Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments— Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.

Then there's Lee Jeno, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.

He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.

As you catch sight of Jeno turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.

It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Lee Jeno carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.

“We still on for tonight, baby?” Jeno's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says,

“Yes, I'll be waiting for you.” Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. “I'll be yours to play with all night long.”Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.

Sitting beside you, Lee Jeno has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker - popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.

Jeno’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.

But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.

Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Jeno and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions.

You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Jeno and Nayoung, Donghyuck catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited.

Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.

But then Renjun chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage."

At Renjun's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your “personal choices” became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.

In that moment, Jeno's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit—Jeno is undeniably hot.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Jeno breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Renjun's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Donghyuck and Renjun's playful torment. Yet, Jeno's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment.

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One day you’re gonna cut Lee Jeno’s cock off.

There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.

The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the musical compositions you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Lee Jeno, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.

She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Jeno and his cock.

(Unfortunately)

Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Jeno seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here.

Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.

With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.

Unbeknownst to you, Jeno's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Jeno is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.

The moment he entered the house for the first time, Jeno became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set.

"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.

Jeno spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"

"Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts.

Jeno shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney. "What about this?”

"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.

"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Jeno says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Jeno catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."

"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply.

"Damn, that's cool," Jeno whispers. "What's she like?"

You gulp nervously, wondering why Lee Jeno wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar.

“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!

Jeno chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing her major, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."

Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”

Yeah, because they're not interesting, Jeno thinks.

Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Jeno. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."

“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.”

Jeno scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool).

“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”

"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Jeno asks.

"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.

Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon.

She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Jeno left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Jeno know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you.

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

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The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"

Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"

You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.

"And he likes you."

You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."

Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Jeno possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fucking, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.

"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."

Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Lee Jeno? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy with no heart, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"

"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"

You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.

"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"

"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.

"But I know that you’re way more than that! You’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Lee Jeno even asked for the name of your band."

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What you knew about Lee Jeno’s cock was against your own will.

Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Jeno’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique."

You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Jeno have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Eunji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.

They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.

"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Jeno’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Jeno’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher.

Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."

Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity.

She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."

You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Jeno's sexual conquests.

"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.

“Do not go all ‘Joe Goldberg’ on me!”

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words.

Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.

"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.

"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.

You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Jeno thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Jeno’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”

He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice.

Nayoung goes back to praising Jeno for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,”

A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Jeno. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."

"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."

"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?"

You had never spoken a word to Lee Jeno in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Jeno, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.

"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Lee Jeno, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.

"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.

"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare.

Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Eunji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Jeno closer is already in motion.

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Jeno received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.

He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Jeno enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.

It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Jeno eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.

Jeno's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.

As Jeno strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.

The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.

A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.

Amidst the noise and the crowd, Jeno spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.

It’s you.

Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.

Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Jeno spellbound.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Jeno’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are.

In that fleeting moment, as Jeno's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.

The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Jeno, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.

Your mind races with questions. Why was Lee Jeno here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits.

You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.

Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.

As Jeno watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.

The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Jeno feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper.

What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Jeno's veins.

As you lock eyes with him and smile, Jeno feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted.

You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.

He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Jeno attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.

In that moment, Jeno finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.

He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Jeno, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.

Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.

Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.

Turning to face her, Jeno's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.

Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.

"I'm off to Eunji’s house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.

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As Jeno steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.

Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil.

As the conversation between you and Jeno progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Jeno, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.

Conversation starts light, with Jeno leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.

You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Jeno continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.

You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.

"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.

The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Jeno’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.

Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”

Jeno’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Jeno's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.

The way Jeno looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist.

There's just something about him.

There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.

There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.

You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.

You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Jeno, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air.

As Jeno's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine.

Jeno's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.

"That's... I have the same tattoo," Jeno reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection.

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.

The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Jeno, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change.

You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.

A wicked grin spreads across Jeno’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.

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Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.

His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.

His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew.

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.

As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.

Jeno’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs.

Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned.

"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.

"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.

You've heard Nayoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.

In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.

He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.

With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.

Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"

Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core.

Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin.

He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body.

His breath hitches when he finally sees your tattoo, it really was identical to his. With a hungry look in his eyes, he leans in and presses his lips against the outline of your tattoo, tracing it with tantalizing kisses. His lips move slowly, sensually, as he explores every inch of the intricate design, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

You gasp as his tongue joins the dance, tracing the delicate lines of your tattoo with a teasing touch. Each stroke of his tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, igniting a fiery passion that consumes you both. In the heat of the moment, you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue caressing your skin, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

“You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.

His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.

The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.

With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Jeno," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.

"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin.

With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.

"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.

As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.

He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.

You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Jeno whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face.

His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.

"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.

"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Don't laugh at me," you pout.

"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.

"I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."

Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.

His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.

As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.”

You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.

"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Jeno positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.

He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.

Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you.

With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.

He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire.

He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy.

And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied.

As Jeno pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.

��Please, Jeno,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision.

Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness.

As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.

"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.

He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.

As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth.

He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more.

You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement

But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance.

You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”

“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort.

“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.

As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.

His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”

As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.

He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.

"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking.

With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.”

Jeno’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs.

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.

Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.

Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.

With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper

As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.

“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.

Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.

Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”

Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.

You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.

His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.

“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”

"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up."

His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Jeno ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.

Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.

He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance.

Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.

Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.

But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.

──────────────────────────────

‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you.

You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from?

“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?”

He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.”

As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.

Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”

He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."

As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Jeno in a way you never have before.

“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.

He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Jeno’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.

You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.

Jeno, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.

“Did anyone get you this one?” Jeno points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact.

You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set.

An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.

“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Jeno’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.

You nod. “My best friend.”

“You seem really different from each other,” Jeno observes.

“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”

You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”

Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”

Jeno’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”

Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”

As Jeno hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation.

“Why did you start playing bass?” Jeno’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”

“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.

You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”

Jeno shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”

You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Jeno observes, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Or Ryujin,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Jeno’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”

Jeno shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”

You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”

Jeno chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

You and Jeno have been talking for what felt like hours.

The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.

His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Jeno's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jeno's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension.

His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.

You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.

You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.

“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.

“Your taste is… amazing.”

He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Jeno has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.

The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.

──────────────────────────────

You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Jeno consume your mind every time you close your eyes.

Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Jeno's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.

You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing.

“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.

As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.

The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.

Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.

Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.

There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny.

“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.

Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy.

The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.

Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Lee Jeno checking you out.”

Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Lee Jeno’s massive cock.”

The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.

You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.

He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.

You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”

As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Jeno left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.”

You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”

Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Jeno fucked you in it all night long.”

Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.

But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Jeno, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.

Nayoung joins in with a chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. "That's not true, he lost it to Arin. But he's had multiple threesomes and orgies," she chimes in, somehow knowing everything about everyone. She even knew who you had lost your virginity to even though you had sworn to keep it a secret.

“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?”

“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.

You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.”

“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.

“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Jeno, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.

“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”

Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”

Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.

Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing more. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.

However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Jeno, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous?

But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Jeno is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.

Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him.

As Jeno adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.

He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.

Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.

Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do.

Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Jeno!” He motions for him to come over.

As Jeno approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. His full name ‘Lee Jeno.’ was neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Jeno bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.

As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Jeno, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked.

His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Jeno is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.

Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Jeno’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table.

The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts

"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.

Jeno pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.

“Are your legs okay?” Jeno asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.

You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.

His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.

With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

As Jeno's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself.

Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.

Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart.

──────────────────────────────

You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.

Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically.

Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.

“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.

The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.

“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.

“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.

“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.

“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.

“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.

“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.

“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.

The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.

However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.

You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.

Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.

“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.

“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.

“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.

You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.

After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.

“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”

You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit.

Your heart sinks when you see who walks in —it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.

Of course you know who she is—someone in the year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.

She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be.

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present.

You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."

He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.

Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Jeno fucking her?"

You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Jeno and Arin.

Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words.

──────────────────────────────

As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.

You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.

As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket

As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.

Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.

Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here.

As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.

You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”

Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.

"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.

Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Jeno," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.

But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.

"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.

You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.

She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"

You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.

Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.

"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.

Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.

You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"

Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.

"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.

You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Jeno-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.

While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Jeno strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him.

He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jaemin, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Jeno who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.

Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Jeno’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.

Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Jeno since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.

Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.

“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.

“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.

Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.

You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”

“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.

You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you.

Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.

You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Your voice trails off when you see it’s Jeno you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.

He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.

Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.

Jeno, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.

You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.

With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Jeno and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Jeno, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.

As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Jeno. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.

Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.

“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Jeno wouldn’t easily spot you here.

The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Jeno walked in, accompanied by Jaemin. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.

Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”

As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.

While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”

The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Jeno turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.

The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.

You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Jeno, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.

The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Jeno. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him.

After the lecture, you spot Jaemin lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jaemin was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Jeno’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Jeno weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.

As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jaemin approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.

“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jaemin says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.

You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”

“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jaemin continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Jeno’s actually a decent guy.”

“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”

Jaemin’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.

“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jaemin continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”

His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jaemin walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Jeno could lead.

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The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Jeno standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jaemin’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Jeno you’re here in this moment with him.

“Hey,” Jeno greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.

You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Jeno,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.

As you walk together, Jeno’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…”

Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently.

Or so you wished.

His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?

The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Jeno’s words.

Jeno closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”

Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.

As Jeno's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him… The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence.

“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest.

“Eric will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?”

He smirks. “Close second.”

──────────────────────────────

“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.

Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”

“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.

“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.

“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.

“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.

Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.

“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.

“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.

Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.

But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.

As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.

You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.

“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.

Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.

In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.

“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.

──────────────────────────────

As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.

A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.

Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.

You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.

It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.

The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere.

As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.

“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.

Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around.

As Jaemin’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?

One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.

"Y/N, I might be going crazy but everyone seems to be staring at you," he whispers, close enough for only you to hear. You hum in response, your eyes scanning the room. He's right. Unlike other nights where you blended into the background, tonight it feels like you're under a spotlight. Is it because of your earlier encounter with Jeno on campus? That thought unsettles you as you realise people had stared then, and they’re obviously staring now.

Not quite drunk enough to completely let go of your inhibitions, you feel the weight of the stares pushing you to the edge. "Let's dance!!!" you suddenly exclaim, seizing Eric's arm and pulling him towards the dance floor where Nayoung and Eunji are already lost in the rhythm. Eric follows, his surprise evident but quickly morphing into enthusiasm as you both join the lively crowd.

You join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, their bodies moving freely to the rhythm of the music. Joining them, the three of you fall into sync, bodies swaying and twirling in a shared rhythm. The energy is infectious, and soon Eric joins in, the four of you forming a tight circle.

Laughter and song blend as you dance, the music enveloping you completely. There’s a moment of pure joy as you all grind against each other, singing at the top of your lungs, the world outside fading away. Tonight, it’s just you, your friends, and the music—nothing else matters.​

The relentless pace of the party begins to wear on you, and you wonder how your fellow students manage this every weekend. As your head starts to spin and a wave of dizziness washes over you, you realize you need a break. Muttering a quick excuse, you make your way to the quieter snacks section to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You smile when you see one of your favourite snacks, content to just munch on it, knowing Sunwoo got it just for you. Suddenly, he appears and checks on you, prompting a playful eye roll from you when you realise he’s been absent for the entire night. He was the host and was normally present but he was clearly occupied with Yeji.

You notice lipstick stains scattered across Sunwoo's neck, prompting a raised eyebrow from you. "You already fucked Yeji? Sunwoo, she hasn't even been in the band for a month—"

Sunwoo interrupts, "I haven't fucked her yet. We're just chilling in my room."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah. I want to take it slow. I really like her."

Sunwoo puts his arm around your back, concern evident in his voice as he asks, "Are you okay? You look tired. You can go and rest in one of the spare rooms; if anyone's fucking there, I'll kick them out."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, "You'll walk in on them having sex?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but you barely register his response. Your attention is suddenly captured by someone else.

Jeno.

He's here, partying, and he looks hot. Your eyes instantly gravitate towards him, taking in his appearance. Jeno is wearing a fitted button down shirt that manages to accentuate his muscles and toned chest, a chain dangling from his neck, adding to his appeal.

You’re engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, your heart somersaulting within your chest, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. A nervous energy courses through your veins, setting your skin ablaze with a feverish heat, as if every nerve ending is on high alert, tingling with anticipation. Despite your attempts to remain composed, you can’t shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, a chaotic dance of excitement and nervousness.

He’s in his element, downing shots with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Girls press against him, grinding against him, each one vying for his attention. Laughter fills the air and his smile makes your heart twist, his presence is so magnetic and captivating. Despite the chaos around him, he’s the calm in the storm, his confidence unwavering as he basks in the attention of those around him.

The party’s intensity overwhelms you as much as you don’t want to admit it. You can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the pounding music and throngs of people. You need a break. So, you slip away to one of the rooms in Sunwoo’s vast house, seeking solace from the chaos. You were sure no one would find you here, Sunwoo’s house was massive so it was easy to hide away.

This dimly lit room on the lowest floor is your sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the party’s noise. Sinking onto the plush couch, you find comfort in its soft cushions. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

Surrounded by silence, your thoughts fill the space. Reflecting on the evening, you wish you could shed your self-consciousness, to join the fun without fear of judgement. But anxiety holds you back, trapping you in doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you try to let go. In this quiet room, you find peace, if only for a moment, amidst the chaos outside.

Parties always felt like too much for you. The noise, the crowds, the energy—it all overwhelmed you. You'd stand there awkwardly, like a wallflower, while everyone else seemed to thrive in the chaos. You wished you could just let loose, have fun without worrying so much.

The door creaks open, breaking the silence of the empty room. Startled, you look up to see Jeno standing there, his presence filling the space with an unexpected intensity. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as the connection between you sparks to life. You feel a flutter in your chest, an electrifying sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Unable to hold his gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

As Jeno steps into the room, his energy is different from the chaotic atmosphere of the party. It’s composed, calm, yet brimming with an underlying intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unspoken in the air, a silent understanding that hangs between you, pulling you closer despite the distance.

He takes a seat beside you, and when you steal a glance at him, you find his eyes already locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, as if there’s an invisible thread connecting you both.

As his gaze bores into yours, it feels like he’s peeling away the layers of your soul, seeing you for who you truly are. It’s intense, electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity, desire, and a hint of something more profound, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

In a soft voice that sends tingles down your spine, he asks, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? Why did you come?” His words are laced with concern, genuine and caring, yet there’s an underlying tone of desire that makes your heart race.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I came for my friends, but I already regret it… I don’t know why I can’t let myself have fun, I really don’t know… I tried to let loose but I just can’t.” Your voice trails off, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt.

His response is like a bolt of lightning, unexpected and thrilling. “That’s a shame… The prettiest girl here tonight should be enjoying herself,” he says, his words dripping with charm and confidence. The way he looks at you, coupled with his bold statement, sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

Feeling a mixture of surprise and desire, you meet his gaze head-on, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken longing. “I-I…” you stutter, unable to form coherent words as his proximity overwhelms you. “I… thank you,” you manage to whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat as you avert your gaze, feeling his intense presence enveloping you like a warm embrace.

“But I’m definitely not the prettiest girl here tonight, not even close. Have you seen Yeji? Or Nayoung and Eunji? Or Karina? I even saw you dancing with her, and I don’t blame you if you left with her tonight because she’s breathtaking and—” Your words tumble out in a rush, cheeks flushing crimson as you realise how much you’ve said. Fortunately, he cuts you off with a forward tone, sending your heart racing again.

“You’re prettier than all of them,” he declares, his words laced with confidence and desire.

“Why aren’t you partying right now? Did you follow me here?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he shakes his head. “I was partying, then I saw you and realised you were here. I saw Sunwoo with you and got distracted. I didn’t follow you, I just wanted to find a room that no one would be in, and that’s how I came here…” His words hang in the air, leaving you speechless and breathless.

As he moves closer, you feel your pulse quicken, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. “Why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he asks softly, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You try to avert your eyes, but his touch guides your focus back to him.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you finally muster the courage to whisper, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Like what?” he replies, his tone smug yet enticing, as if he’s enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Like you’ve seen me naked,” the words spill out, unfiltered and honest, hanging between you in the charged air. It feels like a confession, a secret desire laid bare, but instead of recoiling, he leans in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

Without a word, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated passion that sends sparks flying. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, moulding perfectly to fit as if they were made to kiss yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of brown sugar and whiskey that ignites a fire within you. Your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

There's a primal hunger in the way he kisses you, a raw, animalistic need that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His tongue dances with yours in a tantalising rhythm, exploring every crevice of your mouth as if he's trying to imprint himself on you.

Moans escape your lips as the kiss grows more fervent, the passion between you reaching a fever pitch. With a low growl, Jeno's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with deliberate intent. His touch ignites a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You can feel the heat between your bodies intensifying, the urgency of desire driving you closer together. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him eagerly, the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a potent reminder of the passion between you.

With each movement, Jeno grinds against you, his hips rocking in perfect synchrony with yours, creating a rhythm that sets your heart racing. The friction between your bodies sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the intensity of your desire with every touch. His hands guide your movements, urging you to grind against him with increasing urgency

"Good girl," he whispers against your ear, his voice husky with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His words fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a primal hunger that demands to be sated.

You reach for the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning with urgency while still grinding against him, your ass meeting his clothed thighs with every bounce. His hands grip the flesh underneath your dress, and you feel the tension in the air as you both lose yourselves in the moment. With a swift motion, his shirt is off, discarded in the heat of the passion that envelops you both.

As you look into his eyes, you see the same emotions reflected — lust, longing, want and need. You're consumed by the desire to pleasure him, to take him to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. With a primal urge coursing through your veins, you drop to your knees before him.

As you look up at him, a playful and innocent smile dancing on your lips, he groans in response, his reaction uncontrolled and raw. His moans escape him in a series of loud, guttural sounds, each one filled with the urgency of his desire and the pleasure coursing through him.

With a confident hand, you unzip his jeans, anticipation building with each tug of the zipper, until they're open and his arousal is straining against the fabric of his boxers. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fabric covering his cock, you revel in the feeling of his hardness beneath your lips, the heat of his desire seeping through the fabric. His reaction is immediate, a guttural groan escaping him as he feels your warm breath against his skin, the promise of pleasure tantalisingly close.

With a wicked grin, you tease him further, nipping at the edge of his boxers before slowly sliding them down, revealing his throbbing length in all its glory. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, only fuels your own desire, igniting a hunger that demands to be sated.

"You're driving me insane," he growls, his voice thick with desire as he locks eyes with you, the intensity of the moment igniting a fire between you. "Now, are you gonna suck my cock like the good girl you are?"

With a smirk playing on his lips, he teases you with his cock, tracing the tip along your parted lips. He grips his hardness firmly, using it to lightly slap against your eager mouth, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down your spine. Your mouth hangs open, ready and waiting for him, aching to feel him fill you completely.

With a hungry urgency, you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sink down onto his hardness. You touch each other all over, your hands exploring his body while his fingers tangle in your hair,

Your head bobs rhythmically, your mouth working him with skill and determination, each movement eliciting loud grunts and moans from him. He guides your movements with his hands, urging you to take him deeper, to suck him harder, to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches you pleasure him. "Just like that, baby, take me all the way."

You comply eagerly, your hand tight around his length as you stroke and tease him, syncing your movements with the rhythm of your mouth for maximum pleasure. His rough and primal sounds of pleasure fill the air, spurring you on as you work him towards release.

But he wants more, needs more. With a sudden roughness, he tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you closer until your head is arched back, your neck exposed for him to take control. With a makeshift ponytail in his grasp, he guides your movements, angling your head for a better angle as he thrusts into your mouth with renewed intensity.

You surrender to his dominance, letting him guide you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. Your senses are overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feeling of him filling you completely, and you revel in the primal pleasure of giving yourself over to him entirely.

"Fuck yes," he growls, his voice a primal command as he takes control. "Suck my cock, just like that. I want to feel you swallow me whole."

His grunts and moans grow louder, more urgent, as he approaches the pinnacle of his ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself into your waiting mouth,

As you take his cum, you look up at him with eyes that are both desperate and satisfied, your mouth aching for more of him even as you savour the taste of his release. “That’s it, baby.” He strokes your hair softly, relishing in the feeling of you tasting his cum.

He whispers huskily, "take it all, baby... swallow every fucking drop."

You gaze up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, your eyes pleading and soft. He feels a primal urge stir deep within him. The sight of you, so desperately wanting, ignites a fire in his veins and a fluttering feeling in his chest.

With a growl of need, he effortlessly lifts you from the floor, his strength undeniable as he pulls you into his arms. Lowering you onto his lap, he holds you close, his hands roaming over your body with possessive urgency. Each touch is rough yet tender, a silent declaration of his desire to claim you as his own. And as he pulls you closer, the heat between you intensifies, the air thick with anticipation and need.

In his hold, your bodies meld together, hips moving in a primal rhythm, grinding against each other with an urgency that borders on desperation. As your lips meet, it's a clash of tongues and teeth, a passionate exchange that leaves you both breathless. Moans and sighs escape between kisses, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Breaking apart briefly, you pant against his lips, your desire evident in every ragged breath. "I wanna fuck you so badly, please," you whisper, your voice a husky plea.

With a low growl of desire, he meets your gaze, his eyes smouldering with need. "Ride my cock, baby," he commands, his voice rough with urgency as he guides your hips, urging you to take control.

His hands move with purpose as he pulls your dress up to bunch around your waist. His fingers deftly unzip the back of your dress, exposing your back and revealing your breasts, a sight that only fuels his desire further. With a primal need, he leans down to pepper kisses along your exposed neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin.

You feel the pulsating heat of his arousal throbbing against your dripping core as you lower yourself onto his cock. A primal moan escapes his lips as you take him deep inside, your walls greedily enveloping him in a tight, wet embrace. With each downward thrust, you revel in the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

"That’s it," he groans, his voice husky with desire as he grips your hips, urging you to ride him harder. "You take me so well." He praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room with the symphony of your passion. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat between you.

Your breasts bounce in front of him, a tempting display that drives him wild with need. He reaches up to grasp them, his fingers kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"You’re so fucking hot," he growls, his voice rough with urgency as he meets your gaze, his eyes burning with unbridled lust.

With each bounce on his cock, you relentlessly ride him, your bodies colliding with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limits, is overwhelming, a delicious tightness that leaves you breathless with desire.

Jeno can't help but marvel at how impossibly tight you feel around him. Every inch of his cock is enveloped in the warm, velvety embrace of your pussy, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.

Your walls grip him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, a sensation so exquisite it borders on agonizing. He can feel every twitch, every ripple of your inner muscles as you ride him relentlessly, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with your insatiable hunger.

As the intensity of your rhythm escalates, the impending release becomes undeniable. "Jeno, Jeno," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you cling to him, the sensations overwhelming.

He meets your gaze with a primal hunger, his own need evident in the depths of his eyes. "I know, I know," he growls, his voice strained with urgency. With synchronised movements, you both reach the peak together. Your bodies tremble with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, your voice echoing in the room as your walls clamp down around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Jeno's own release follows suit, his moans mingling with yours as he spills himself into you, filling you with his warmth.

As you reach up to gently brush the hair away from his face, you notice a change in Jeno’s demeanour. His features soften, his expression becoming more relaxed and carefree under your touch. An unspoken tension, one that he didn’t even realise he was carrying, was released, leaving him looking more casual and at ease. Under your hold, you can feel the satisfaction coursing through you, you did this to him.

“Are you tired?” he asks sweetly, his voice laced with concern as he looks down at you.

You shake your head with a shy smile, reassured by the warmth in his gaze.

But before you can say anything else, he surprises you by suddenly lifting you effortlessly into his arms, turning you around with a speed that leaves you yelping in surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, a rush of exhilaration and excitement coursing through you as you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace.

As Jeno holds you in his arms, you feel a surge of exhilaration mixed with a potent cocktail of desire and trust. His strong and steady embrace grounds you, his warmth enveloping you in a sense of security and anticipation.

“Do you trust me, beautiful?” His whispered words send shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly in response. His kiss on the side of your head ignites a fire within you, fueling your desire and surrender.

Positioning himself behind you, Jeno aligns his throbbing cock with your eager entrance. With a primal growl that resonates deep within your core, he thrusts forward, driving deep into you as he supports your weight effortlessly.

His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding the rhythm of your movements with precision and intensity. Each thrust is a calculated display of strength and control, hitting all the right spots with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Despite carrying you, his movements are powerful and controlled, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sensation of him deep inside you, his cock driving into you with primal intensity, is overwhelming and intoxicating.

With each thrust, he emphasises his strength, his dominance evident in every movement as he holds you close to him, his body pressed against yours. The slickness of your combined arousal acts as a natural lubricant, enhancing the pleasure of each thrust and driving you both closer to the brink of release.

In the heat of the moment, Jeno’s dominance takes centre stage as his fingers entwine themselves in your hair, firmly grasping a fistful of your locks. With each deliberate tug, he exerts his control over the pace and intensity of your movements, guiding you with a commanding yet sensual grip. As he pulls you closer, you can feel the electric tension building.

With each rhythmic movement, his hand connects with your flesh, delivering a sharp, stinging sensation that ignites your senses. The contrast between the gentle glide of his thrusts and the sudden impact of his hand sends jolts of pleasure racing through your body, heightening the intensity of the experience. Each spank leaves behind a lingering warmth, a tangible reminder of his dominance and your shared desire. As the sensations wash over you, you find yourself surrendering to the raw passion of the moment, lost in the electrifying connection between you and Jeno

With your hands securely pinned behind your back, you’re completely at his mercy, unable to move or resist as he takes you with an intoxicating blend of strength and desire. His muscles ripple with every movement, his veins pulsating with the intensity of his passion. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his biceps flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his primal energy consuming you as he claims you as his own. In his embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, utterly captivated by the raw masculinity of his touch.

He’s crazy. With each sharp slap to your cheek and each forceful tug of your hair, there’s a gentleness in his soft kisses grazing your cheeks. Amidst the heat of passion, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You find yourself on the brink of ecstasy, your body writhing with desire as you whimper, “Please, I need to cum.”

Jeno’s response is immediate, his deep whisper urging you on, “Cum for me, that’s my good girl.”

With renewed intensity, he thrusts harder, driving you to the edge and beyond. Finally, as the pleasure overwhelms you, you reach the pinnacle of bliss, and with a primal cry, you release, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. In that moment of euphoria, you feel Jeno’s own release, his body tensing against yours as he joins you in ecstasy, the culmination of your shared passion leaving you both breathless and spent.

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Jeno’s house is not what you expected.

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you approach Jeno’s place, his hand gently holding yours. He’d asked if you were comfortable coming over after the party, and something in his gaze made it impossible to say no. As you near his home, you’re taken aback by its appearance. Unlike the typical cramped student accommodations, Jeno’s house boasts a spacious front porch, its design minimalist but striking with shades of grey and sharp black accents.

“I live with a few other guys… it’s not all mine,” Jeno chuckles, noticing your wide-eyed wonder. His laughter eases the awe that had momentarily seized you.

“Who do you live with?” you ask, glancing around the spacious interior curiously.

Jeno chuckles, leading you through the open layout of the living room. “Jaemin, Renjun, and Donghyuck. Shotaro and Yangyang practically live here too, though. It’s a big place, it never really feels crowded… the more, the better, actually,” he explains, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive space.

He continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he mentions Donghyuck. “Donghyuck can be a real pain sometimes, he’s the one who keeps telling me you’re some Christian virgin but I tell him to shut up and hit him.” He says nonchalantly while you let out giggle. “But he’s one of my best friends. Always keeps things interesting around here.” He laughs softly, shaking his head at some unspoken memory.

“As for Renjun, he’s the quiet, mysterious type. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s reliable, always there when you need him.” He adds thoughtfully.

“Are they your best friends?” you ask, intrigued by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of them.

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, they’re the people I’m closest to. We’ve been through a lot together—it’s like having a second family, you know?”

“And Jaemin?” you ask, knowing he was closest to him out of all people

“I love Jaemin.” He responds quickly and surely.

“Awww.” You coo.

Jeno’s expression softens. “Yeah, Jaemin and I go way back. He’s one of those friends who’s seen you at your worst and still thinks the best of you,” he explains with a laugh. “I’ve known him the longest. He has this way of keeping me grounded, especially when things start to feel overwhelming. His voice is so calm and he’s always so understanding, I’ll always be so thankful for him.”

He shifts slightly, his enthusiasm growing as he talks about his friend. “We don’t always have to talk to communicate. All we need to do is look in each other's eyes and we know what the other is thinking.”

He says it so seriously but you can’t help but snort. “That’s incredibly romantic.”

He rolls his eyes, a sign he’s used to that response whenever he speaks about Jaemin.

He takes you inside, then leads you on a brief tour, his hand still warm in yours. “My favourite part, the kitchen,” he announces as you step into a sleek, modern space. The kitchen is a testament to minimalist design, dominated by grey tones with vibrant blue accents that add a playful splash of color. The clean lines and uncluttered surfaces reflect a sense of order and style.

“You cook?” you ask, genuinely surprised by the sophisticated setup.

“Do I cook?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m the best cook around.”

The confidence in his voice sparks a smile on your face. “You’re gonna have to cook for me one day,” you say, the words slipping out more comfortably than you expected. It feels natural, easy even and you just allow it to happen.

“Yeah, I’ll make it my best work,” he responds, his smile broadening. He looks down at you with a warmth that makes your heart flutter slightly.

As you and Jeno chat comfortably in the kitchen, the sudden sound of footsteps causes you to startle. Before your nerves can fully spike, you realize it’s Jaemin entering the room. He seems nonchalant, sporting headphones and munching on popcorn, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to your presence.

Jaemin’s casual demeanour initially leaves you wondering if this is a common scene for him, witnessing Jeno with company. Jeno, for his part, doesn’t seem surprised or perturbed by his friend’s appearance, reinforcing the depth of their friendship. They’re comfortable around each other, sharing a living space without the constant need to fill it with conversation.

However, the quiet moment shifts as Jaemin finally acknowledges the room. He pulls one earbud out, glancing up from his phone with a mischievous smirk. His eyes flicker between your entwined hands and both your faces, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Don’t start fucking each other against the countertop. I just cleaned it,” he quips, his tone light but pointed.

Jeno simply rolls his eyes, a small laugh escaping him as he looks at you, unfazed by Jaemin’s comment. “Ignore him,” he advises with a grin, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “He always loves to tease.”​

Some time passes and Jeno leads you to the third floor, to his room. When he pushes open the door, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The room is meticulously curated, the white walls pristine, exuding an aura of calm and control. Your eyes immediately travel to the bed, high-set with a soft charcoal comforter. Above his bed, an abstract painting commands attention—its tempestuous strokes of blues and greys mirroring the complexity within Jeno himself.

On one side, a sleek desk stands, supporting a high-powered computer with dual monitors. A nearby shelf holds a collection of engineering textbooks and a scattering of eclectic reads, your eyes lighting when you see some of your own favourite books.

The room’s ambiance is carefully controlled, LED strips casting an intentional glow, highlighting the books and illuminating a space that is both a study and a sanctuary. His headphones lie within reach, resting comfortably on its own stand.

As Jeno’s voice breaks the quiet, you realise he’s been watching you take it all in. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”

You nod but then your smile falters. “I didn’t bring anything —”

Before you can finish, Jeno is pulling out one of his black hoodies, his movements smooth and assured. You accept it with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing against his as you take it.

The moment’s calmness is palpable as you sit on the edge of Jeno’s bed, the comforter cool beneath you. Jeno bends down to retrieve a couple of drinks and snacks from a compact compartment below, something you hadn’t noticed in his room prior. With a fluid motion that suggests familiarity, he pops open your drink using his teeth, his hands full, and hands it to you.

Does he realise how hot that was?

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning to face you with the remote in hand.

You shrug playfully, “You choose.” A grin spreads across your face as you hear the faint clicks of him browsing through the movie selections.

As Jeno fiddles with the projector, the soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting playful shadows around his minimalist space. You settle more comfortably into his bed, pulling a cushion under your arm.

Your giggle fills the room when you see his choice pop up on the screen— Lemonade Mouth. It’s unexpected, and his reasoning makes you chuckle even more. “Seems fitting to watch the most iconic movie about a band with the hottest and coolest band member I know,” he explains, a teasing tone in his voice.

“It’s an amazing movie,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his bed, drawing the comforter up to your chin. You’re so engrossed in the opening scene that you don’t notice Jeno’s gaze lingering on you, his attention only half on the movie.

The film’s lighthearted humour unexpectedly draws peals of laughter from you, your giggles echoing in the quiet room. It’s endearing to Jeno, how easily you find joy in simple moments.

“Did you guys start your band in detention too?” he jokes, referencing the plot of the movie, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shake your head, still smiling. “No, we started it because Sunwoo lost a bet. We’ve only been a band for like… less than a year.”

Settling back, he watches you more than the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips as he enjoys your reactions just as much as the film itself. The evening unfolds with a gentle, easy magic, the kind that seems to pause time just for the two of you.

As the characters in Lemonade Mouth rally together for their iconic ‘Determinate’ performance, Jeno chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Can Sunwoo and Eric rap like that?” he asks, genuinely curious yet teasingly.

You laugh, the sound is light and easy. “Both, actually. Especially Sunwoo—he’s surprisingly good. But he can’t ever be serious about it. I swear, half the time, I can’t take him seriously at all, and I can’t believe he’s in a band.”

Jeno’s laughter joins yours, creating a symphony of amusement that fills the room. “That must make rehearsals interesting,” he comments, imagining the scene.

“It’s like managing a group of kids sometimes.” You deadpan, eyes twinkling with the memories of countless rehearsals.

As the movie winds down and the room dims with the soft light of the credits rolling, your eyelids grow heavy. Nestled comfortably under his covers, you find the cosy warmth too inviting, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I stay here tonight?” You’re already sinking deeper into the cushion of his pillow, the fatigue of the night drawing you closer to sleep.

Jeno’s response comes with a gentle chuckle, warm and reassuring. “Yeah, you can,” he smiles, the softness in his voice making it clear you didn’t even need to ask. As you nestle in, he reaches out, his touch light as he brushes his hand over your cheek. “Don’t you wanna remove your makeup before you sleep?” he asks, his concern tender.

You groan softly. “Can’t be bothered,” you mumble.

Without hesitation, Jeno offers, “I’ll do it for you.” He pulls open a drawer, retrieving cotton pads and makeup remover. His movements pause as his fingers brush over the items—remnants of past routines, he frowns, breathing in deeply before letting it out. Not tonight, not now.

He gently turns your face towards him, ensuring not to disturb you too much as your eyelids flutter in the struggle to stay awake. With care and immense attentiveness, he begins to dab at your face, removing the makeup with strokes so soft they could be mistaken for a caress. Each motion is careful, ensuring not to tug at your skin, his touch as light as air.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his voice a hush in the quiet room. He finds you absolutely breathtaking like this, bare-faced and in his hoodie, resting on his side of the bed. Normally he doesn’t let anyone sleep on his side of his bed, but with you, he decides to make an exception.

Jeno reaches for a spare blanket and pillow, throwing both onto the couch beside his bed but just as he turns to leave, your hand reaches out, catching his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip, your fingernails embedded in his wrists slightly.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, the softness of your voice masking the intensity of your plea.

He pauses, turning back with a chuckle. “I sleep here all the time, it’s fine,” he assures you, his voice a blend of amusement and comfort.

But tonight, you want him closer. “I want you to stay,”

Jeno sighs, a sound of subtle delight, he can’t argue with that. as he slides into the bed beside you. “You’re kinda on my side of the bed,” he teases, a playful note in his voice that makes you smile in the dimly lit room.

“Come closer then,” you whisper back, shifting to make room and tossing the spare pillow off the bed. Your arms open, inviting him into a more intimate embrace. He obliges without hesitation, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, his fingers trailing along your skin as he pulls you closer, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you trace patterns absentmindedly as you both adjust into a comfortable cuddle. His presence is a calming force, and you feel the earlier tension of the evening begin to dissipate.

The proximity is electrifying yet soothing, with his breath rhythmic and steady against the side of your face. “This is better,” you admit, your voice a soft confession in the quiet of the room.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands, a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, content and a little more daring as the night deepens. “I like having you close,” you continue, the words spilling out with a vulnerability that feels right in the moment.

Jeno’s response is a gentle squeeze of his arms around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, his voice a low rumble that you feel rather than hear. His hand trails down your back, settling with a comforting weight that anchors you to the moment, to him.

The morning after, sunlight sneaks through the curtains, painting the sheets in a warm glow. You wake up to find yourself comfortably nestled in Jeno’s arms, his arms secure around you. Is it the bed or his strong embrace making you feel so cozy?

You feel his warm breath on your skin as Jeno leans in to kiss you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. But before he can make contact, you blurt out the question that catches him off guard.

“How did you find fucking me?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He pauses, his lips lingering near yours for a moment before he chuckles softly. “Good morning to you too,” he replies, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Was I good?” you press, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jeno plays with your earrings, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Really good,” he admits, his voice husky with desire.

“Really?” you can’t help but sound a bit silly, your insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“There’s a reason I kept calling you my ‘good girl’,” he reassures you, his words sending a flutter of excitement through you.

You giggle at his response, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “I mean, who taught you how to suck cock like that?” he teases, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

“I’m self-taught,” you continue, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “No one needs to teach me.”

He moves his body on top of you, his gaze smouldering with desire. “Do you want to show me what else you’ve learned?” he asks, his voice low and husky with anticipation. His eyes lighting when you nod eagerly.

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You fidget with the hem of Jeno’s hoodie as you descend the stairs, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the weight of the night before. Hickeys dot your neck, a visible reminder of the passion that unfolded in the quiet of his room. Jeno follows closely behind, his hand finding the small of your back, a silent assurance as you step into the heart of his home.

The kitchen buzzes with morning activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low hum of conversation. It’s a stark contrast to the serene isolation of Jeno’s bedroom. You’re not prepared for the burst of energy that greets you, but then again, you should have expected it. Jeno’s housemates, a notorious and eclectic group known campus-wide, are gathered around the island, their presence as commanding as their reputations.

Jaemin spots you first, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Good morning, did you sleep well? Or should I say, fuck well?” he teases, winking at you with a grin that spells trouble.

Donghyuck stands, clapping dramatically as he eyes the marks on your neck. “Oh, look, someone lost their virginity!” he declares, earning a chorus of laughs from the others.

You shoot him an annoyed look, choosing not to engage with his antics. Renjun leans against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did he fuck you do hard that you couldn’t make a sound? We didn’t hear a peep last night,” he adds, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Despite the barrage of teasing, Jeno remains unfazed. He steps closer, his arm snaking around you, pulling you to his side. His presence is a wall against the playful onslaught. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting by your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

You feel a tightness in your chest as their chatter swirls around you, the familiarity and ease of Jeno’s friends contrasting sharply with your own nervousness. You cling slightly to Jeno, tightening your grip on his arm. You manage a small smile, avoiding direct eye contact with the group, your gaze flickering between the countertop and the mug you’re now holding.

With a soft touch, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. "Hey, just take a deep breath, okay? They really like you," he whispers just for you, the reassuring tone blending with the underlying rumble of his voice. He guides you subtly to stand slightly behind him.

You nod, managing a shy smile as you lean into his protective form, feeling the tension begin to ease. The physical closeness, Jeno's body shielding yours, brings a quiet comfort that helps you relax into the moment, the earlier apprehension slowly melting away under his attentive care.

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As the weeks pass, your interactions with Jeno become increasingly frequent and intense. You find yourself actively seeking him out. You’ve spent endless nights in his house, in his room. Endless laughter and soft touches weave between you, gradually building a deeper connection. Days without seeing him leave a noticeable void, highlighting just how integral he has become to your daily life.

Lee Jeno was not what you expected, he was better, he left you breathless. He had effortlessly evolved into a constant presence in your world. His ability to make you laugh and smile becomes a cherished aspect of your days together. You don’t shut up around him; it’s something he wasn’t expecting. He finds it endearing, how much you babble and talk. You simply share every thought and feeling with him — unmasked and raw. It was a massive difference to the shy girl who never used to be able to look him in the eyes.

(You still struggle making direct eye contact with him though).

You don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you begin trusting him and instinctively needing him around before actively realizing it. It was your bodies and minds’ natural response.

In getting to know Jeno, you discover a multitude of shared interests, from music and literature to movies and even Lego sets. Yet, it's the differences that add depth to your connection. Jeno exuded confidence, his outgoing nature and commanding presence drawing you in. He knew how to navigate any situation with ease, always in control and never at a loss for words.

Yet, alongside his confidence was a wild streak that ignited a fire within you. He embraced the thrill of indulging in drugs, drinking, sex and getting high, finding euphoria in the freedom of letting loose. His uninhibited nature was undeniably attractive, adding to the magnetic pull you felt towards him.

Despite his wild side, Jeno displayed a remarkable intellect and dedication to his studies. He approached engineering with a seriousness that spoke to his ambition and drive. Behind his cool exterior lay a focused individual with clear goals and aspirations for the future. This combination of intelligence, ambition, and spontaneity only served to deepen your admiration for him.

You also love when he kisses you.

The entire world melts away in those moments, as his soft lips meet yours in a dance of warmth and affection. Each kiss is filled with smiles and unspoken promises, drawing you closer to him with every tender touch. The closeness you share in those stolen moments is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.

It happens often—more often than you would have expected. You find yourselves kissing, making out, lost in each other’s embrace, more frequently than you could have imagined. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire that burns between you, you haven’t been able to take that next step.

Do you want to have sex with him again? Yes, without a doubt. The thought of being intimate with him again sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But have you been able to? No. And why? The answer eludes you, buried beneath layers of uncertainty and hesitation.

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You meet his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, the anticipation palpable in the charged air between you. His hands trail down the curve of your back. As he zips up the back of your dress and places your necklace around your neck, his whispered words send a wave of bliss coursing through you.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, arching your neck to meet his eyes directly now. his lips pressing against yours with longing, roughness, and breathlessness all at once. You moan softly into his mouth, your fingers instinctively fisting in his hair as he effortlessly picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

With a sense of urgency, he guides you to the chair by his desk, both of you breathless and eager for more. You straddle him, the heat of your bodies igniting as you grind against each other. As the cool metal of the zipper trails down the small of your back, a shiver runs through you—mixed, not with the anticipated thrill, but an unsettling trepidation. Your breath hitches, caught in the tangle of your conflicting desires. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The question haunts the fringes of your mind, echoing with each inch of fabric that parts under his fingers.

He pauses, and the room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern, as he leans back to look at you. It’s a careful, searching look, one that seems to pierce right through the façade of readiness you’ve put up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, a soft thread in the tense silence.

Your heart pounds louder, faster, betraying your outward calm. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you meet his eyes—so full of worry now. Why can’t you just be okay with this? The frustration at yourself bubbles up, sour and accusing. You feel exposed, not just in flesh but in spirit, as if he’s peeling back layers you’re not ready to shed.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words dissolve into a heavy breath. His concern deepens, the atmosphere shifts; it’s no longer just about desire, but about the raw, unmasked corners of vulnerability. “Y/N,” he says, and it’s gentle, almost reverent.

In that moment, caught between wanting and uncertainty, you realize the gravity of intimacy—not just the physical merging, but the emotional exposure. It’s not just bodies that are laid bare in such encounters, but hearts and hidden fears, all intertwined.

He catches every faltering word, his expression softened by an empathetic understanding that seems to wrap around you like a warm blanket. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say sorry,” he reassures you, his voice steady, a stark contrast to the tremble in your own.

You glance up at him, the turmoil inside bubbling over. “No, I do… I do want to have sex with you, I think I do but something is holding me back. Something doesn’t feel right inside of me, and I don’t know what it is. I just feel weird, I feel tense, my anxiety has never felt this high.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice cracking under the strain of the heavy, churning emotions.

“I feel nauseous. I’m sorry… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. I’m really sorry.” You mumble, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. Guilt gnaws at you, twisting tighter with each apology, fearing how your words might weigh on him.

He listens, his eyes never leaving yours, not even for a moment. There’s no hint of frustration or judgement, only deep, unwavering patience. “You don’t need to say sorry to me about that, or explain yourself to me, ever,” he responds, his tone firm yet gentle. It’s comforting, like a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

“I know what you’re feeling. Having sex does take a toll on your body and mind. It can be a lot mentally. You don’t need to explain yourself to me because I will always understand, okay? Just tell me if anything is making you uncomfortable and don’t ever feel guilty about it.” His assurance is a soothing balm, addressing not just the immediate anxiety but acknowledging the broader, often unspoken pressures that come with intimacy.

The room stills, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as his words settle over you. You nod, a silent acknowledgment of his kindness. In this moment, the physical space between you is charged with a new, quiet intimacy—a connection not of bodies, but of souls understanding each other in profound silence.

His hand reaches out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, reinforcing the safety and acceptance in his presence. It’s not about what happens next, or what didn’t happen tonight. It’s about being seen, understood, and cared for without conditions. And in that understanding, the heavy cloak of anxiety begins to lift, replaced by a lighter, more hopeful sensation—a whisper of peace amidst the storm.

“Do you still wanna go or do you wanna stay here and chill for the night?” he asks, his voice gentle, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search yours for an answer, patient and undemanding.

You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at how understanding he is. “Of course I still want to go.” You respond, your voice steady but soft. There’s comfort in his presence, a safety that peels back the layers of guard you’ve meticulously built around yourself. For a moment, you hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity and warmth that flicker in his eyes, revealing his true intentions. It’s this truth that captivates you, locking your eyes with his and making the world around you fade.

He nods, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. Standing, he offers his hand, and you place yours in it, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch. His hand is strong and secure around yours, a contrast to the smooth, gentle hold that sends a thrill up your arm. As he leads you through the crowd, you can’t help but notice the confident way he moves—each stride purposeful and assured, his shoulders relaxed yet commanding presence. The feeling of your hand in his—a delicate yet perfect fit—makes your heartbeat a little faster.

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As time passed, Jeno’s friends became an integral part of your life, their presence a constant presence in your shared moments. You found yourself spending more and more time at his house, naturally integrating yourself into his circle of friends. Initially intimidating, you soon discovered that they had big hearts and welcomed you with open arms

Jeno also bonded with your friends, although it got a bit awkward considering he had fucked Nayoung and Eunji before, it’s not shocking, he has a high body count. It wasn’t easy to forget that the way he met you was through Nayoung, through his initial interest in her. But it was clear that boundaries were now set, and he viewed them as your friends specifically.

Jeno exuded an unexpected chill vibe that effortlessly drew people to him. He possessed a natural charisma that made it easy for him to get along with everyone, though not in a desperate, boundary-less way. Rather, he was the type who genuinely wanted to keep everyone happy and safe, yet he also harbored a darker, more defensive side. If you crossed him or someone he cared about, he wouldn’t hesitate to assert himself.

His presence was magnetic, with eyes following him wherever he went. Being around him was like basking in sunshine—impossible not to smile, to feel light and happy, to keep your eyes fixed on him with a wide smile. That’s why you warmed up to him so easily. His ability to effortlessly connect with your friends was incredibly hot, and seeing him make an effort was a major turn-on.

Your friends have grown accustomed to seeing you in their own world, whenever you and Jeno are together, their glances and remarks go unnoticed by both of you. You’re so engrossed and caught up in each other that the outside world fades away. There’s constant eye smiles, giggling, stolen glances, whispers, and communications, all adding to the intimate atmosphere. Physical closeness comes naturally, and you always make space for him. He, in turn, chooses to sit next to you and focuses solely on you.

You’re in the campus student lounge rooms. The last time you were here, the mere thought of him used to send chills down your spine, he used to make you incredibly nervous. The last time you were here with him was the morning after you had sex, and the memories flood back, mingling with the present moment.

But now? You’d say you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him. Don’t get it wrong, he still makes you nervous. At times it’s still difficult to look into his eyes and he loves it, especially right now, when he’s tracing the skin under your pretty little skirt with such precision. His eyes gaze into yours, penetrating deep into your soul, while the sides of his lips upturn into a smirk. As always, your friends are rolling their eyes as you and Jeno are eye-fucking again, completely oblivious to the scene around you.

Why is he touching you? Well, you mentioned wanting a tattoo, so you asked Jeno to trace an artistic outline of what he thinks would look good on you. Of course, deep down, you just wanted his hands on you; you weren’t actually planning to get inked. But you couldn’t exactly blurt out, ‘Jeno, please touch me!’ in front of everyone, could you? He doesn’t mind though; he sees right through you and finds you endearing and cute. Plus, he’s not exactly opposed to any excuse to touch you either.

As Jeno’s fingers glide over the bare skin of your thigh, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. His touch is electric, sending shivers of anticipation up your spine. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but the sound escapes anyway, earning a smirk from Jeno.

“Really? In front of everyone?” he teases, his voice husky in your ear, dripping with desire. You shake your head, unable to form words as his touch sets your nerves on fire. Every brush of his fingertips sends waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. You can only whimper in response, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with each passing moment.

His hand moves with purpose, tracing the curve of your thigh before inching higher, closer to where you need him most. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the fire burning within you.

In your mind, you’re chanting ‘higher’ over and over, craving his touch to escalate. Suddenly, his voice, a low whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to touch you higher?” His words, dripping with seduction, fuel the fire burning within you.

How does he know? It’s maddening yet exhilarating, the way he can read your desires with just a glance. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but it’s futile. You want him to know, to feel the raw intensity of your longing.

“No,” you manage to whisper, but it’s a lie, a feeble attempt to resist his irresistible allure. He smirks knowingly, his fingers teasingly brushing against your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold back anymore as desire consumes you, craving his touch, his warmth, his everything.

He repeats his question with a smirk, his tone dripping with teasing temptation. “No?” he says, drawing out the word, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But you’re beyond words now, lost in a haze of desire as his touch threatens to unravel you completely. All you can think about is him, his hands, his lips, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. “Jen—”

──────────────────────────────

As you lay your head on Jeno’s lap, the comfortable silence of the room wraps around you. You’re scrolling through his phone, a small gesture that shows just how close you’ve become, trusting each other with such personal devices. He’s doing the same with yours, each of you lost in a quiet exploration of memories captured in digital form.

Your fingers pause as you swipe through his camera roll, a gallery of his life displayed in bursts of pixels and colours. There’s an array of images: candid shots with friends, selfies, beautiful scenic photos, gym progress and a few of his university projects. You also come across an array of your own photos that you’d almost forgotten sending him—naughty and risqué shots of you in lingerie, revealing outfits, and even some playful nudes.

Then, amidst the casual swiping, you halt. A photo pops up that halts your breath and tightens your chest. It’s an image of Jeno with Arin. 

You were still unclear about who Arin was to Jeno, and the nature of their past relationship. He hadn’t ever spoken about her, and the bits you pieced together from Eunji and Nayoung suggested they were together a while ago, though whether it was serious or not, you couldn’t be sure. But seeing this photo cuts your breath in half.

They’re caught in a serene moment—her seated on his lap, an arm draped comfortably around her. Her smile is radiant, the kind that seems to illuminate her entire face, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Jeno’s gaze is fixed on her with an intensity that’s palpable, his eyes soft, mesmerised. It’s clear from the photo that there was something deep and affectionate between them.

Among the multitude of images, this one stands out conspicuously, the only visual record of her presence in his phone. The absence of any other pictures of her prompts a troubling realisation: he must have deliberately removed them, yet this one remains, was it accidental? Was it not? 

You doubt it. A chill runs through your spine, your breath shakes, and you feel a painful strain in your chest at the realisation. This photo had to be recent—you notice him wearing one of his commonly used jackets, and the hairstyle is the same.

You’re so incredibly jealous and shaken up that your vision blurs; you can’t think straight, you feel like you’re about to throw up, you feel so fucked up and nauseous that you don’t even think to check the date the photo was taken. All you can focus on is looking at her. 

You can’t believe how breathtaking the photo is. Arin’s dress hugs her figure elegantly, accentuating her curves in all the right places, while her radiant smile lights up the frame, infusing the image with an undeniable warmth. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy, drawing you into their depths with an irresistible allure. But it’s the way Jeno looks at her that leaves an indelible impression on your mind—he’s captivated, his gaze fixed on her with a mesmerising intensity that speaks volumes.

As you stare at the image, a cold realisation washes over you. She embodies everything you fear you’re not; her ease and vibrancy in the photo make you painfully aware of what you perceive as your own shortcomings. Jeno’s mesmerised look serves as a sharp reminder of your insecurities, feeding the jealousy that coils tight in your chest.

Now you know what it means when people say that a photo speaks a thousand words. It’s evident just by one photo—they look like they’re in love. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, confirming what your heart already suspected. With a single glance, the photo lays bare the truth of their relationship, leaving you reeling with a pang of heartache.

The photo stirs a storm of emotions within you—jealousy, envy, confusion. “She’s pretty,” you whisper to yourself, so quietly that Jeno doesn’t hear. You try to shake off the discomfort, to scroll past, but your eyes are glued to the image. Arin’s beauty, her dress, the happiness on his face—it’s a vivid portrayal of a potential love that fills Jeno’s life.

Silence stretches, heavy and thick, as you digest the image and its implications. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air around you charged with unsaid words and emerging doubts. Your fingers tremble slightly as they linger on the screen, the brightness of the phone casting shadows on your thoughtful face.

Jeno’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, calling out your name with increasing urgency. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the way you’ve gone silent and still, and follows your gaze to the photo of him and Arin. He meets your eyes, and there’s an unreadable, cold expression as if he’s masking or hiding something.

Your faint, broken voice fills the room with a small whisper. “Why do you have this photo on your phone?”

He’s about to answer, his mouth opening to form words that you’re not sure you’re ready to hear, when suddenly his phone vibrates loudly on the table. Your head snaps towards the device, a sharp intake of breath catching in your throat as you see the name illuminated on the screen. A single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice. With a huff, tinged with a mix of anger and hurt, you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “Why is Arin calling you?”

──────────────────────────────

authors note thank you for reading :) hope you enjoyed, happy birthday to my love jeno <3 if you liked, pls interact, leave a message, ask, reblog, my dms on here are always open too so speak to me! i love meeting new ppl. there is a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up

tag list @apuppygirlfriend @babbymochiiii @actually-vl @mingiandbaconjam @nakamotai

[princessbrunette]

can’t stop thinking about babydaddy!rafe taking toddler!daughter out for the day because you have plans — and he’s not really sure what the best way to entertain a toddler is, so he takes her to the drive-through zoo.

she seems happy enough in her car seat in the back, the buzz-cut kook checking her through the mirror every so often until they arrive there. “alright, y’ready to see some animals? huh?” he coo’s, craning round to look at her as she squeals and bangs her chubby fists in excitement. “yeaaah. you look excited. looove animals, just like mommy — don’t you?” he pulls into the ticket booth, scanning the code on his phone before they let him in, rafe’s large expensive car crawling slowly up the cobblestone.

it’s hard to know if she’s enjoying the sights at first, blinking her big round eyes at the sights that pass her. until of course, she’s confronted with her favourite animal. the animal she was most excited about when daddy told her they were going to the zoo.

“camel!” she yells, and rafe lets the car sit still, the two gazing out their assigned windows at the dusty animal boredly inspecting some grass. “camel from the book, daddy!” she babbles in baby talk, and though he’s got no clue why she’d be so excited over a camel of all animals, or what ‘book’ she’s babbling about — he entertains it anyway.

“thats right, peanut.” he croons, turning in his seat once again to look her way, sunglasses rattling against his chest where they hang from his polo. the camel comes a little closer to the car, and despite your strict instruction — rafe unwinds his daughters window just a tad. “look at thaaat, huh?”

“camel! camel!” she clasps her hands together — the spitting image of you and rafe smiles, all warm and genuine. it was a real shame you couldn’t come today. the camel looks right through the window at his little girl before spitting in disinterest on the ground and continuing to trot away. rafe kisses his teeth.

“yeah walk away from my little girl, rude ass bitch.” he lets slip. it’s quiet, but he knows he shouldn’t say it anyway. luckily for his little girl, she didn’t seem to mind or notice the camels disinterest, happily humming to herself as rafe continues to slowly drive the car along the cobble once more. there’s a couple of seconds of silence — and just as rafe is about to fill it, asking if she’d wanna see the monkeys next, your daughter speaks up.

loud and unabashed, she grins. “bitch!”

rafe blinks, head whipping round to glance at her. “oh sh— uh, nah. honey we don’t uh, we don’t say those things alright? s’a bad word. your mommy will kill me if she hears y—”

“bitch! bitch bitch bitch!” she giggles, clapping her hands together. rafe presses his lips together at his only mistake.

“hey, language kiddo.”

the rest of the day is spent filled with distractions for his little girl. ensuring she forgets all about that naughty word by buying her whatever useless stuffed animal from the drive in zoo, whatever chicken nuggets from the restaurant that she’ll barely nibble on, repeating whatever silly joke that makes her cackle. he’s convinced it works, and soon — even rafe forgets all about the incident.

she’s practically asleep by the time rafe’s handing her back to you at the end of their day.

“was everything okay? did you take pictures?” you smile, looking tired from whatever chaotic day you’d had but still beautiful nonetheless. rafe blinks himself out of a stare quickly, going to answer.

“no yeah, loads uh… i’ll send ‘em through when i get home.” he nods, wiping his hands on his pockets watching the toddler stir, now back in her mothers arms. she gives you a tight cuddle before sleepily craning round to look at rafe, hair all messy and one eye still stuck shut.

“say bye to daddy.” you coo quietly, bouncing her a few times. she’s seemingly too tired, instead offering a tiny fist to wave at him in parting. he smiles, eyes flickering away from you to catch her hand and press a kiss to it before backing up— taking in the perfect family that was just out of his reach before turning back around to walk back to his car, fishing for his keys in his pocket.

then, comes your daughters voice. raspy and sleepy — yet clear and unmistakeable.

“bye bitch!”

rafe slowly spins on his heel, just in time to watch your face turn from confusion, to horror, to pissed off. at him.

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[enkvyu]

“babe i messed up, we gotta go bald.”

“no!” you grab onto the electric buzzer and fight against him, holding gojo back. “wait, let’s think this through!”

“look at my hair, it’s horrible! i can’t go out like this!” your boyfriend whines and though he resists your pull, you know he isn’t putting force behind the gesture.

“you look…” you yank your eyes away from his head, suddenly struggling to look at him. “fine.”

“you paused!”

“it’s fine, gojo!”

“it’s not! if my lover can’t even look at me without laughing, what are my students going to think?” gojo checks himself out in the mirror of your apartment's bathroom, turning his head side to side to observe the lousy slash he had given himself.

“their opinion of you can’t go any lower.” you reassure him. “and it’s fine, really. just, put down that shaver, that’s it, put it down on the counter and i can fix your mess for you.”

gojo gives you a wary look but eventually relaxes his hold. you pick up the shaver and the handle is still warm from his touch. turning it on, you let the hum of the device fill the silence.

after gojo had decided to abandon his glasses for a blindfold, he realised simply letting his hair grow out in whatever direction would not cut it anymore, else he wanted to look ridiculous.

when he complained to you, you absentmindedly told him to get a haircut without thinking of the consequences of your actions. of course gojo wouldn’t just go to a barber, of course gojo would think he could style his own hair and of course gojo would pick the worst haircut, making the first move without another thought. and now, after running the shaver a few centimetres up from the nape of his neck, the both of you realised that he should never be allowed near a electric shaver ever again.

you exhale. "okay, i've got this."

gojo looks at you through the mirror. "don't stress. worst case scenario, i can just buzz everything off."

you stare at him. "i cannot love you if you're bald."

"seriously?"

"what's with the look? would you love me if i was bald?"

gojo doesn't even hesitate. "yes!"

that makes you feel guilty. you don't comment on the topic any more, instead channelling your attention to the shaver in your hands and the white hair above your boyfriend's head.

“hey, don’t ignore me. you wouldn’t love me if i was bald? what’s next, you wouldn’t love me if i was a worm?”

you bite your lip to stop your face from contorting into a grimace. “i’m trying to focus here.”

“and i’m trying to make sure there’s still love in our relationship.” he turns around and looks at you. “do you love me?”

looking at him, a small smile slips through your disgusted expression. your boyfriend was regularly annoying, but there were times when his childish behaviour was more endearing than irritating. this was one of those rare times.

“yeah, i do.” you admit.

“prove it.”

“huh?”

his hand closes around yours, the one holding the buzzer. “i’m going bald.”

“no you’re not!”

“this is my hair, i get to decide what to do with it!”

“gojo!” you quickly reach over and unplug the shaver. “let’s be rational!”

he looks at you with bleary eyes. “i love you.”

“me too, which is why i can’t let you go bald.”

“you’re lying. if you loved me, it wouldn’t matter how much hair i have on my scalp.”

you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. when you peek through your fingers, gojo is still giving you a wounded look. “okay fine, i would still love you if you went bald. it honestly doesn't matter to me, but is this what you really want?”

“and if i was a worm?”

you look away, busying yourself with tidying your already tidy sink. “are you going bald or not?”

“answer my question.” his hand wraps around yours. “you can’t leave here until you give me a response i can accept.”

you try to shake him off. “i’m not backing down on this, i will not love you if you turned into a worm.”

“i would—”

“no you wouldn’t! how would you kiss me if i was small and slimy?”

he pauses. “i don’t need to kiss you to show my love, it’s just a side benefit.”

“okay, and what about our species difference? what if i find a handsome worm and fall in love with him? he would treat me better since we’re both worms.”

“i would keep you in a cage so that you'd never meet another worm.” he says, completely serious.

“is that what love means to you?”

“i’ll fill the cage with all your favourite things!” he brings your hand up to his cheek and presses against it, littering kisses onto your palm when you don’t react. "it's also to keep you safe! you'd be completely defenseless as a worm."

"well, if you were a worm i wouldn't be able to keep you safe. you're the strongest, if you can't protect yourself then how could i?"

"that's something different. i wouldn’t be the strongest, i would be a worm."

"an unlovable one."

he drops your hand and grabs the electric shaver before you can. "i'm going bald."

you don’t stop him this time. “fine, go ahead. but when you’re hairless i am not taking the blame for this. if you even start to complain to me i will plug both my ears and walk away. that means if your students take photos of you and spread it like the plague, i won't stop them.”

“i knew it.” gojo says after a moment’s silence. “you don’t love me anymore.”

“if there was ever a time that i did.”

“when did you start falling out of love?”

this was slowly getting out of hand. “gojo.”

“when i ate your chcolate? i apologised, what else do you want from me? want me to kneel?”

“gojo!”

“is it because i used your expensive skincare? i was curious because it came in a little pipette thing and i wanted to squeeze it real bad.”

you hiss. “i knew that was you.”

“you seriously believed me when i told you it wasn’t me? we live together and we live alone, who else would it be?”

a humourless chuckle escapes your lips. perhaps gojo detects your intentions before you can act on them with his six eyes, because he freezes, backing up against the edge of your sink.

in his fear, you yank the shaver out of his hand and flick the power switch back on. the buzz fills the air.

“you’re going bald.”

“i was just kidding! i don’t want to be bald!” gojo leaps out of his chair and heads for the door. unfortunately, you grab onto his shirt and pull him back.

when gojo walks out of your bathroom a few hours later, his head is lighter than when he first entered.

sped wrote this so i could post smth it’s so stupid i’m crying

[theemporium]

[3k] too many shots and a bet leads to a very interesting night out. it's just a shame neither of them can remember it and the whole world is discovering the details alongside with them.

series masterlist

.

RING! RING!

The first thing you were painfully aware of was the annoying shrill of your phone echoing from some distant corner of the room. 

RING! RING!

The second thing was the fact you had forgotten to close the blinds last night, meaning the blinding rays of the Nevada sun were doing their best job in dragging you out of your comforting slumber like irritating parasites. 

RING! RING!

And the third thing was that whoever was trying to call you was seemingly very insistent to get in contact with you, if the three calls in a row (that you were so far aware of) were anything to go by.

RING! RING!

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you pulled the edges of the pillow over your ears, hoping it would muffle the ringing shrills. But when the phone continued to ring and the noise only seemed to get louder, you were forced to throw your hand out and blindly try to grasp the cursed device in hopes of making the noise stop. 

Your fingers wrapped around the buzzing phone, your eyes still firmly kept shut as you kept tapping the screen until the ringing stopped before you brought it to your ear. “You better have a good fucking reason for calling me.”

“I hope you are doing something you enjoy.”

You frowned, your brain taking a few moments to process the voice coming through. “Arthur?” 

“Like, I hope you are fulfilling your lifelong wish right now.” 

“What the fuck are you on about?” You grumbled, exhaustion hitting your body just as badly as the rays of sunlight shining through the open blinds were. “It’s too early for your riddles.”

“I am just saying that I think you should be doing something you love before Charles kills you.” 

You let out a non-committing hum. “And why would he kill me?” 

“Many reasons but I think getting married in Vegas last night is easily the top of the list right now.”

Your eyes shot open when you heard the words leave Arthur’s mouth. It felt like ice had doused your entire body as you quickly sat up in the hotel bed, now painfully aware of the pounding headache that only tequila could give you. 

“WHAT?”

“Congrats, by the way. I do pity the poor guy you locked up though.” 

Now painfully aware of the situation, your eyes grabbing onto any detail that would hopefully prove your brother wrong. Unfortunately, all you seemed to find was evidence that he was telling the truth if the white dress, the horribly large costume jewelry ring on your finger and the abandoned veil with ‘NEW BRIDE’ on the floor were anything to go by. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you breathed out, feeling though as you were going to empty your stomach’s contents any moment now. “How do you know? Why didn’t you stop me?!” 

“I wasn’t with you! I just opened Twitter and found pictures of my sister outside a wedding chapel and all over some random guy!”

“I married a stranger,” you hissed out, your lips parting in shock. Tequila made you do many questionable things, but even this was bad for you. 

“He’s your husband, it’s a bit offensive to call him a stranger.”

“Arthur, I swear to god—” You cut yourself off as your eyes fell on the large lump in the bed next to you. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realise it was another human. It took you even longer to tear your eyes away from the cheap suit he was wearing before you looked up at his face. “Oh my fucking god.”

“What?”

“Charles is going to kill me,” you breathed out, your heart pounding like it was lodged in your throat. 

“Yes, we established that when I called you—”

“Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I married Max,” you continued, lost in your own daze that you barely acknowledge your spluttering brother on the other side of the phone.

“YOU MARRIED MAX VERSTAPPEN?!” 

Unfortunately for Arthur’s sake, you quickly hung up the phone. You could barely process the fact the Dutch driver was currently passed out on the bed next to you, let alone doing so with your brother screeching in your ear the whole time. The phone was abandoned on the bed as you stared at the Dutchman, your brain working on overdrive as you tried to work out what to do next. 

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and shoved him off the bed. 

“OW!” 

You froze for a moment before you crawled over to the other side of the bed, peaking over the edge and down at Max who was currently groaning on the floor from his impromptu wake up call. 

“What the fuck was that about?” He grumbled, blinking a few times before he realised who was hovering over him. “What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?” 

“This is actually my hotel room,” you replied. 

“Oh,” he muttered. “Then, what the fuck am I doing in your hotel room?”

“Well, it’s what a married couple do,” you commented. 

Max’s brows furrowed together. “What?”

You lifted your left hand, the ring now on display and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head before the realisation hit him. “Do you think this counts as our honeymoon?” 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

...

...

“How did this happen?” 

“Tequila,” you muttered with your nose scrunched in disgust as you watched the Dutchman begin to pace the hotel room. If you cared enough, you would be concerned about him wearing down the carpet. Though as of the current moment, your priorities were currently elsewhere. 

Max turned to look down at the certificate he had found stranded beside your veil on the floor, your names and signatures clearly printed on the piece of paper—which took out the small piece of hope that this was just some elaborate prank set up by Arthur.

“How did we get that drunk though?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together. If he wasn’t so confused, he would be more embarrassed at the fact he clearly couldn’t handle his alcohol as well as he once could. 

“Well, it’s your fault,” you commented casually, which had the boy whirling around to face you. 

“How is this my fault?” Max scoffed.

“You made the bet!” 

Max’s frown deepened. “What bet?”

“At the hotel bar,” you stated like it was a basic fact he should have remembered. “When I bumped into you—”

“We bumped into each other,” Max chided. 

“—you were the one to suggest shots,” you pointed out.

Max gave you a look. “How is that a bet?” 

“Because you said I couldn’t outdrink you. I said you would be a sore loser. And then you bought us ten shots each.” 

He blinked. “Huh.” 

“I’m pretty sure it was also your idea to go to another bar afterwards when we got kicked out the hotel bar,” you said in a sing-song voice.

Max scoffed. “Absolutely not. You were the one that said only losers go to bed after one bar.” 

You shrugged. “I stand by it.”

Max let out a laugh, a little breathless like he was trying to hide it. He shook his head, glancing down at the certificate one more time before shrugging. “It’s not really that bad, to be honest. A bit embarrassing, but what people don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Your expression turned sheepish. “About that…”

“Who knows?” He asked in a blunt voice. 

“Well, Arthur knows,” you started. 

“That’s not that bad,” Max scoffed, his shoulders relaxing. “Wait. Charles doesn’t know, does he?”

“Not yet,” you said before quickly continuing. “But he probably will because the paparazzi caught us last night and now the pictures are all over the internet.” 

Max blinked. “AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO START WITH THAT?” 

“You’re grumpy when you wake up!” You defended, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at you.

“The whole world thinks we are married!” Max countered before sputtering out a laugh. “Well, we are married. Or we aren’t. I’m still not totally sure but I don’t need your brother chopping off my balls over it!”

“He wouldn’t!”

Max shot you a look.

“Okay, he would,” you grimaced before giving him a shaky smile. “But he doesn’t know yet so we should be in the clear���”

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

...

...

“Okay, I have good news and bad news.” 

Max looked at you expectantly. “And?” 

“Bad news: Charles now knows,” you said with a shaky smile. “Good news: he doesn’t know it’s you!” 

Max pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to rub soothing circles. “Fucking hell.” 

“But also bad news: he is coming here right now as we speak so we should probably—” You started, fully set on grabbing what you needed and hiding out somewhere else in the hotel until Charles calmed down. However, your plans were put on hold when you heard a groan from the bathroom. 

“CAN YOU BOTH PLEASE SHUT UP?”

Your gaze caught Max’s as you stared at each other, both with expressions mixed between confusion and surprise. A few seconds passed before you were both clambering off the bed, heading towards the bathroom where you threw the door open and scrambled to turn on the light before you both froze in the doorway at the sight in front of you.

“Now that was unnecessary.” 

You gaped at the sight of Yuki curled up in the bathtub, dressed in a similar looking suit to the one Max was wearing along with what you were certain was the shower curtain placed over him like a blanket. He had a pillow behind his head and sunglasses over his eyes, and for all intents and purposes, he looked fairly comfortable. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed out. “I married two drivers last night?!”

“I hope you at least married me before Yuki,” Max grumbled, only to let out a small wince when you elbowed him. “God, you’re a difficult wife.” 

“Kinda going through something,” you snapped back before your eyes moved back to the Japanese driver. “I can’t believe I married you and Yuki.”

The driver in the tub let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Please, you didn’t marry me. You’re not my type.”

You blinked, unsure whether or not you should have been offended by his comment. 

“The ring on your finger says otherwise, mate,” Max commented, the ring a matching one with the one that was currently on your left hand.

“I married someone but not you,” Yuki said as he waved you off, nuzzling his face back into the pillow. “And our wedding was much classier than yours.”

“I—” You frowned. “You remember?” 

“Yeah, you said you wanted witnesses,” Yuki grumbled, bringing the shower curtain up until it was tucked under his chin. “You also dragged Lando out so he would take your photos.” 

Max gaped. “Lando was there? Lando knows?!” 

“Yes, now can you please go bother him?” Yuki muttered under his breath. “And turn the lights off as you leave. Only wake me up when you order food.” 

...

...

“Don’t make me an accomplice in your crimes.” 

“Shut up and let us in.” 

You weren’t surprised to find that Lando and Logan were already in the room, both with looks of amusement on their faces as they watched you and Max wander in—still dressed in your wedding clothes from the night before. 

You wanted to slap the smug looks off their face. 

“Is it really a good idea to hide here?” Max asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though the headache pounding through his head had nothing to do with the alcohol he consumed last night and more to do with the mess you both had created.

“It buys us time,” you insisted. 

“On the chance that Arthur doesn’t rat you out,” Logan added. 

“You told Arthur where I was?” Your eyes widened before you turned to look at Oscar. “Do you want me dead?” 

“You know, something about the way you’re wording that makes me feel like it’s a trick question,” Oscar commented with a suspicious look on his face.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die today,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. 

“It’s kinda romantic that you guys will die together,” Lando chimed in as he grinned between you and Max. 

“If I survive today, I’m going to run you over,” Max threatened with a strained smile on his lips.

Lando snorted, shrugging. “Yeah but the chances of that happening are low so…”

“Your brother doesn’t even know my room number,” Oscar pointed out. “It will take him ages to convince the desk to give it to him or even hunt—” 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“This is what English teachers meant when they taught us poetic irony,” Lando laughed, all giddy and happy.

“Like you paid attention,” you grumbled, eyes narrowing on the boy before you turned back to the door. “Don’t answer it.” 

Oscar’s eyes widened. “I can’t not answer it.” 

“Yes, you can,” you said bluntly. “Just don't open the door.”

“He knows we are in here,” he hissed. 

“We don’t know that for sure.” 

“OPEN UP! I CAN HEAR YOU! SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—” 

“Even more reason not to open the door,” you said, pressing your lips together to hide the wince that you wanted to let out as Charles thumped on the door again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Max grumbled as he quickly stood up, ignoring your pleas to just pretend your brother didn’t exist. He reached the door, yanked it open and braced himself for the wrath of an angry Charles Leclerc.

Much to his surprise, the Monegasque barged straight past him and headed straight for Oscar instead. 

“You!” Charles gritted out through clenched teeth as he reached to grab Oscar’s collar, firsting the material in his hands. “What do you have to say to yourself?” 

Oscar’s eyes widened as Charles backed him into a wall. “What?!” 

“Marrying my sister in Vegas? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Charles continued. 

It didn’t take long for Lando to descend into a fit of giggles, practically on the floor if it weren’t for the fact Logan was keeping him on the bed. Somewhere still standing by the door, Arthur stood with an amused look on his face that only grew wider when he saw your confused and shocked expression too. 

“I didn’t marry your sister!” Oscar said to him, trying to push the boy away but he was latched on tightly. “I was literally in bed by nine!”

“Loser,” Logan grumbled under his breath.

Charles faltered, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What?”

“I wasn’t the guy to marry your sister,” Oscar repeated, finally managing to pull Charles’ hands off him. “I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the world for me to do that.”

“First Yuki and now him,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you didn’t marry her, then who did?” Charles questioned. 

It was almost comical how quickly everyone turned to look at Max, who was still standing by the door and looked like he was contemplating just dashing out the room.

“You,” Charles muttered out, his eyes narrowing on the Dutchman. 

“In my defence,” Max started as he gave the boy a smile, though it didn’t seem as confident as he was hoping it would be. “I didn’t know I married her either.”

“I am right here,” you huffed. “Jesus Christ.” 

“I am going to—” 

“Nothing. You’re going to do nothing,” you jumped in, taking a step so you were blocking his line of vision of Max. “It’s just a…phoney, fake marriage. It’s not that big of a deal, Charles. People will forget by next weekend anyways.”

“Uh,” Logan cleared his throat. “It’s actually very legal all over the US and in some other places—”

“Shut up, Logan.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Charles narrowed his eyes on you. “You’re not allowed to marry him.”

“I already did,” you pointed out with a sheepish expression. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Charles,” you stepped towards him, though the boy still looked like he was contemplating parading into the paddock with Max’s head on a stick. “Charlie, please. Don’t do something stupid because you’re annoyed.” 

“I want to cut his dick off,” Charles told you.

“I know.”

“And you can no longer have alcohol unsupervised.”

“That’s a tad dramatic.” 

“And no consummating the marriage.”

“That would be difficult to do if you cut off his dick anyways.”

“Can we stop talking about my dick?” Max chimed in with his hands locked in front of him, almost protectively.

Charles sighed. “But I promise I won’t kill either of you. Today.” 

You grinned as you reached towards your brother, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You should tell Maman before she finds out through the internet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Maybe shower first. You stink of tequila.”

“That would be kinda hard to do considering Yuki is currently asleep in my bathtub,” you commented. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply but just shook his head. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Good, because I don’t have answers,” you murmured with your lips turned down. “And he’s really snappy when you try to get them from him.” 

Charles snorted. 

“So, that’s it?” Lando suddenly spoke up from behind you both. “God, that was not worth getting out of bed for. I expected more drama.”

“I’m still pissed at you,” you told the Brit, who just grinned. 

“I’ll send you the photos later, don’t you worry,” he said like he didn’t just hear the words that left your mouth. “Maybe one of them will inspire angry Charles again.”

“Please don’t,” Max grumbled. 

“It won’t be necessary because we are finding a divorce lawyer,” Charles stated simply, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he began making his way to the door, nodding for Arthur to follow him. “Both of you get dressed. We are leaving in an hour.”

Both you and Max gaped at the boy, but he didn’t notice. 

“And someone take one for the team and wake up Yuki. I vote Lando.” 

Lando frowned. “Woah, wait a second–”

“ONE HOUR PEOPLE!!”

...

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 133,728 others

yourusername call me mrs verstappen

view all 12,892 comments

oscarpiastri sometimes i wonder if you just enjoy pushing charles over the edge

yourusername yes

user WHAT

user it was real?????

user oh my god IT WAS MAX?

user someone sedate me

user this is some wattpad level stuff wtf the book tropes????

user i need to know how charles reacted when he found out

arthur_leclerc badly

maxverstappen1 i mean it was an accidental name but i guess it suits you

yourusername you like meeeee, admit it :)

maxverstappen1 i think i legally have to agree because you're my wife

yourusername damn don't sound too enthusiastic about it

user i just know charles lost years of his life over this

landonorris uh photo creds?

yourusername no

landonorris rude

charles_leclerc take this down

yourusername no

charles_leclerc you are a leclerc, not a verstappen

yourusername the marriage certificate says otherwise

charles_leclerc please stop reminding me

pascaleleclerc welcome to the family maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc MAMAN?????

maxverstappen1 thank you? i think?

pascaleleclerc dinner will be at 6 when you are back in monaco

maxverstappen1 yes ma'am

charles_leclerc MAMAN WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON????

.

[miley1442111]

weird facts- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: you finally meet spencer's friends after a very long time, it's just... they don't know about you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: general cm topics, talk of murder, kissing, suggestive

Spencer felt ill. You weren’t picking up any of his calls, weren’t answering any of his texts, and you hadn’t been seen for a whole 24 hours. According to your friend who was staying over at your house last night, you had gotten a call from work and it meant you had to travel, but it was meant to be within the country, so why weren’t you answering?

“Pretty boy?” Derek called from across the bullpen. “We’ve got a case.”

Spencer quickly followed Derek into the conference room, even if his mind was elsewhere. It sadly, was a mass-murder scheme that they only had a few hours to figure out. 

“Oh yes,” Hotch said under his breath. “We have some help, these are Agents Riley, O’Callahan, and Dr. Y/l/n. They all work with unsubs like these everyday and the doctor here has a lot of background from her time overseas. Please use their help and expertise,” he stated before getting up and ending the meeting. The office was buzzing with movement, but Spencer was too awe-stuck to see you in front of him to move, or really notice the rest of the world around him. It had been 5 months since you’d seen each other in person. Both of your jobs made it practically impossible to see each other more than a few times a year but neither of you minded, you loved each other. 

“Earth to Spencer Reid!” Derek shouted at him and finally broke him out of his trance. 

“Yes?!” He startled, ripping his eyes from your figure immediately. 

“Can we focus on the case please? Not the pretty doctor,” Derek shot you a wink and you rolled your eyes, still unaware of Spencer’s being there because of your engrossment in your files. 

“Yes, fine!” He hissed, beginning the geological profile. 

“Spencer?” You ask, shocked at his being there. 

“Hey honey-” He smiled sheepishly as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. The rest of your team and his all looked on, deeply confused. Spencer placed a soft kiss onto your cheek as you smiled. Spencer was over the moon, you were here. You were in his arms. 

“You two know each other?” Agent Riley said with a smirk on his face. “Is that the boyfriend?”

You pulled away despite wanting to hold on longer. You picked back up your casefiles with a contented smile. “Shut up Riley.”

Spencer’s face was red as Morgan, Prentiss, Jj, and Rossi all looked at him in shock. 

“My man,” Derek smirked, giving him a less than soft slap on the back. “Congratulations, how new is it?”

“It’s been 4 years, 77 days, 5 hours and,” He took a split-second to look at his watch. “And 47 minutes.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped more. 

“You’ve been dating him for 4 years?” Agent O’Callahan practically shouted. “We only heard about him for the first time last week!”

“Can’t anyone have privacy anymore,” You muttered, diving into yet another casefile. 

“I have to ask you everything about this-” Derek turned to you but you cut him off. 

“No, you have to build your profile,” You reminded him. “Ask me everything when we catch these fuckers.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in the crowded bar, Derek on your right and Spencer on your left, his hand holding your thigh under the table.

“So, he tells you all the weird facts he tells us too, right?” Derek laughed, entertained by your relationship. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “But I enjoy ‘weird’ facts.”

Derek nodded his head. “You two are seriously perfect for each other,” he smiled. You could feel Spencer squeezing your thigh, his hands getting sweater by the second. 

“He definitely spits out random facts during sex,” Derek said to the blonde woman next to him and Spencer awkwardly cleared his throat, knowing his own tendencies to not shut up, even in the bedroom. You laughed along with them, not actually giving them an answer. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked home with Spencer’s hand in yours. You had successfully caught the unsubs, you had stopped the attack, and now you had time to spend with your brilliant boyfriend. 

“Your friends care about you a lot,” you said as you walked down the dark street. Spencer chuckled.

“They like you a lot,” he admitted. “Probably more than they like me.”

“Spencer, Derek looks at you like you’re his little brother, stop it. They’re just happy that you’re happy,” you smiled. “You are happy, right?” You asked, standing outside his apartment block. 

Spencer chuckled at your question, like he could be anything else. You were the kindest, smartest, and most incredible person he’d ever met. You cared and loved him so deeply. You were his everything.

“I’m more than happy,” he smiled before pressing a kiss to your lips.. His glasses slightly hit off your nose but neither of you minded, his hands began to explore as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, pulling him upstairs his apartment block, ready for another night of ‘weird facts’. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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