#i just need an eun jeongwan of my own lmao

[syneilesis]

[fic] 10:47 PM

10:47 PM

The Boy Next Door | Eun Jeongwan x Main Character (Reader) | Explicit | 3.3k words | ao3 link

Eun Jeongwan spends the night in your place. What happens then is hardly surprising.

Content tags: kissing, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, hand jobs, gratuitous use of the word noona, one Notting Hill (1999) reference

A/N: I don't know what possessed me to write this. At the time my thought process was: I like this webtoon, then Oh, 1st-person POV MC, where the reader is the MC, I like it, then Eun Jeongwan is so cute, I want him, then finally, I want to write smut of Eun Jeongwan. I'm sorry I have sinned.

This fic is based on the webtoon, The Boy Next Door. It's about a college student who reunited with her childhood neighbor, Eun Jeongwan, who's carried a torch for her the entire time despite immigrating abroad. The one-shot just portrays their spending time together, until the end when Eun Jeongwan asks her out. It's cute, Jeongwan's cute, I need more webtoons (1st-person POV) like this. You can read the raws here. The series is actually an anthology, so make sure to click the chapter titles with this text: [일] 정완과 as this is Eun Jeongwan's chapters.

Well, I don't what else to say. I don't think anybody would read this lmao. But if you're reading this, thank you 😂

For quick reference, this is what Eun Jeongwan looks like:

It's been a couple of months since you accepted Eun Jeongwan's confession. His sincerity touched your heart, and that little flutter inside your ribcage had not gone unnoticed when he intimated that he had never forgotten you—not even when he was in another country, living his own life there. That train ride home, with his large hand on yours, and his whispers of affection, his You were in my mind every day, noona. He was all so cute, but also charming, and even just to yourself, you admit that you're swept away.

And now, he's right in front of you, your boyfriend. Jeongwan. That button-nosed little kid who lived next to you, replaced by this tall, well-built, beautiful specimen of a man. Still cute, though.

And still calls you noona.

Not that it bothers you. It's actually cute, like him. And every time that deep voice shapes the word—noo-na—something tingles inside you, from the base of your spine, slithering upwards, rests upon your ears, where they gather heat, and something else.

“Are you even listening to me, noona?”

You snap out of it, and finally focus on Jeongwan, who's bent over, peering up at you in a way that you want to squish his cheeks and ruffle his hair. His eyes are set wide like a cat begging for scrumptious food, and you can't deny him for it. So you smile at him and say, “I'm sorry, what were you saying?”

He pouts, cute little thing. “I was saying—” He casts his gaze down, coy all of a sudden, before flicking it back to you. “Can I spend the night at your place?”

All your organ systems shut down, frozen immobile at his request. His expectant expression wrinkles as if you'd turn him down—and would you? Does he know what he's asking of you? What the implications of his words are?

The only thing you can say in return is, “Why?”

There's a sweep of redness across his face, dusty yet vivid. He brings both his forefingers together. “Well … Since we're already dating, I just want to spend more and more time with my noona.”

My noona. Heavens above, there's only so much self-control you can manage.

“I … see.” You're inwardly grateful that your voice doesn't sound strangled. “Okay. Okay. Do we have to stop by yours to bring something?”

He thinks about it. “Or we could meet here in two hours? I'll cook you omelette rice again tonight.”

“All right. See you then.”

He's waving goodbye as he jogs backwards. There's a coffee shop near the corner where you can spend the rest of your free time waiting for him. While you're giving your order to the barista, your mind drifts to Jeongwan and the night that will come later, and you hope that things go smoothly, for your sake.

+

Jeongwan does make you omelette rice, and it's as delicious, if not more, as the first time you tasted his cooking. He beams like he's won the lottery when you tell him this. Afterwards, you watch a movie in the living room. You've given him free rein of the film choice, content with sitting beside him and going along for the ride. As he scrolls through the list of options, Jeongwan's eyes keep flicking over to you, as though waiting for your feedback. But you don't react; you just let him decide for the both of you.

In the end, he settles for a romantic comedy, which earns a pleasantly surprised hum from you. “I didn't expect you to pick this one out, but all right,” you say.

“I was also thinking of you while I'd been deciding,” he replies, and you resist the urge to hug him. “Do you like what I chose, noona?”

“Of course! Now let's relax and enjoy the movie.”

The film Jeongwan played is about an unassuming bookshop owner and a world-famous actress falling in love. Before you know it, you're invested in the story. The male and female leads have chemistry, and the dramatic moments are gripping, yet still entertaining. You almost don't notice the weight of Jeongwan's head flopping onto the base of your neck.

“Hmm?” You tilt your head a bit, aiming for a glance at his face. It's obscured by his hair, but the downward direction of his long eyelashes hint of sleepiness. You smile to yourself and raise a hand to guide his head into a more comfortable position, taking care not to disturb him too much. He sighs, and his puff of breath is warm on your exposed skin.

With that kind of response from you, Jeongwan interprets it as a green light to become bolder. Not even a few minutes have passed and he shifts, wrapping his arms around your waist. His face buries itself further into your neck, his lashes, nose, and lips brushing against you.

“Jeongwan?”

He only groans in reply, nuzzling, then releases a contented sigh.

You let him, thinking that he's probably more tired than expected. And he's behaved himself afterwards. But as the film's climax unfolds, you feel a soft, ticklish sensation on your neck—one that raises goosebumps along your skin.

He's placing butterfly kisses along the column of your neck, up and down, up and down, and then he stops just below your ear. Inhales once, then nips at the skin there. A prickly yet pleasant sensation blooms, and a low sound escapes from your throat.

“Jeongwan?”

He hums. He nibbles at your earlobe, warm, moist exhales heating the side of your face, and it tingles your ear, causing you to flinch away. His arms around you tighten, trapping you. He moans, and something in you cracks.

“What are you doing, Jeongwan?” Your voice is breathy, but at least you've managed to speak without stammering.

“Noona,” he says—no, whines. He's talking against your skin, so you can also feel the words reverberate across your heating body. “Noona,” he repeats, “I want to be closer to you.”

From this lack of distance, you can smell his shampoo. Surprisingly enough, it's floral-scented, and the cologne he's using has woody notes with a hint of lavender. All unexpected, but not unwelcome. It makes you wonder, sometimes, whether Jeongwan does this to entice you further to him. You don't want to tell him he's succeeding.

“We're already close though?”

“But I want more. Closer. More.” Jeongwan makes a show of inhaling your skin. Then he tilts his face so you can see the sparkle in his mischievous eyes. “You smell so good, noona.”

The credits start to roll, and you miss the ending. But that's hardly your immediate concern right now. In fact, your gaze has never left Jeongwan since he's stolen your attention from the film. The movie's ending song has become background noise, and Jeongwan's increasingly heavy breaths occupy your hearing as every second ticks by.

“Do you …” You hesitate, biting your lip, and Jeongwan's eyes fall to your mouth. He's so obvious with his desires, his wants; has always been. You still remember the playful bite he gave your finger when you two spent the night at a hotel. He was never secretive of his attraction to you.

And it's because of his boldness that you shed your worries and go for it.

“Jeongwan, what do you want to do tonight?”

He jolts at that, caught off-guard by the question. He's probably used to your digressions whenever he articulates his attachment to you, but now that you're addressing it, he flounders, a momentary shock to his system.

Regardless, you still want everything to be clear and certain, because after this there's no going back.

“I want to—” he begins. Swallows. Tries again. “I want to … touch … you, noona. I want to touch noona.”

You exhale, mustering strength. “Okay. Okay. I want to touch you too, Jeongwan. I'm going to touch you.”

He shoots up from his slouched position, suddenly awake. Very awake. He nods vigorously at your response. “Yes, yes, please touch me, noona. Go ahead.”

He's blushing all over. Red as if he's been out under the sun for too long. When you lean forward, to him, and caress your knuckles down his cheek, his whole body shivers, his sand-colored eyes wide and locked onto your own.

You press into him. Shoulder to shoulder. Chest to chest. Groin to groin. You feel him harden against you, and you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth.

Your face is centimeters away from him. This close, you can count the lashes on his eyes. They're so pretty, just like everything about him. “I'll kiss you now, Jeongwan.”

His entire body shakes with anticipation. He reclines on the couch, taking you with him, and breathes, “Okay,” and you waste no time to align your lips with his.

He makes a sound when you come into contact. Like a thirsty man offered water for the first time in a long while. His lips are full, plump, and soft, the sort that feel good to nibble and toy with. So you do: tug his lower lip with your teeth. Gentle, tentative. The hitching moan that slips out of him ignites your blood, and you tug his lip harder before you press again, then try to pry open his mouth.

“Noo—” he tries to say in between the kiss, but the opportunity presents itself: you slip your tongue in, one of your hands capturing his jaw, cradling it for control.

Jeongwan gasps, shuddering at every moment your tongue touches his. At one point you suck it, and unbidden his hips buck, his cock straining prominently in his jeans.

“Noona, wait—” he tries again, hands clinging to your shoulders. A trickle of saliva lines down his chin, and you give in to your crazy thought: lean down and lick the drool back up, kissing him again, open-mouthed and wanton in your movements. Jeongwan sighs loudly—almost a whine; you moan in response. He sounds like music to your ears: innocent yet eager, wanting to please. Unrestrained with his reactions—just the thing that you like. “Noona, please.”

You pull back to study him: chest heaving, lips kiss-bitten and swollen, red red red like a blush. Face aflame. Your scrutiny proceeds downward and stops at the impressive bulge between his legs. You're straddling Jeongwan, and it occurs to you that it's so easy to move just a tiny bit and feel that thing against you. Sneaking a glance at his face and finding his half-mast gaze on your own, mouth parted, gulping lungfuls of air—the epitome of sublime debauchery.

Another crazy thought: you hold his gaze as you scoot back, lowering your head to his crotch. You can see in his widening eyes the dawning thought of your next move.

“Noona, wait wait wait—”

You bring your wet, hungry, parted lips to the head of his clothed cock.

His body jerks as if electrocuted, a sob emerging deep within him. His left hand shoots to grab the back of your head, and your own hand responds by gripping his wrist, ready to control the limb in case he does something that might derail your plan. You continue to mouth his erection, pulsing underneath the layers of fabric in between. Above you, Jeongwan whines and sobs in alternating fashion; gasps your name so loudly you're thankful that you live alone in the apartment. He's yanking at your hair—not too strongly, but the dull ache registers into pleasure, so you let him do it a little more.

Jeongwan calls your name again, the crack in his voice deliciously crisp that you groan around his length—which elicits another broken whine from him.

“If you keep this up, noona,” he pants, “I'm not going to last long.”

That makes you pause, retreating slightly—which also drags a groan out of him, hips chasing your heat.

“Do you—” you begin, voice husky and wet. “Do you not like it?”

Jeongwan straightens up at that. Gasps a little when the movement jostles his aching cock. “I do like it! I love it! I just …” His expression crumples in distress. “I want to make you feel good too …”

“Oh,” you say eloquently, mouth hung open. You glance down at yourself. So focused on Jeongwan's pleasure that you fail to realize that you're aching and dripping. And to think, you're both still fully clothed. The fact makes you laugh a little.

“Noona?”

You smile at him, so fond, so very fond. “Jeongwan. Jeongwan. Seeing you feel good makes me feel good, too. Come here, feel it.”

You bring the hand you're still latching onto, underneath your skirt, between your legs, and the moment Jeongwan's hand comes into contact with your soaked panties, you both jerk—a moan flying out of your lips.

“Noona, you're …” He tests a touch: slides a finger across your panties, right over your slit. You shut your eyes and shudder, sighs spilling out of you. The hand on his wrist tightens. “Oh …” he breathes.

“S-See?” you say, forcing your eyes open and meeting his gaze full of wonder.

“I …” He stumbles, takes a steadying breath, starts again. “Noona, I like you so much.” And he kisses you, tongue pushing and thrusting and he kisses like he's wanted to kiss you all his life, all thirst and hunger, the boiling point of his years-long-kept want.

His finger keeps stroking your slit, and you're already a mess: trembling legs and hips, sloppy kisses, weakening resolve. It comes to a head when Jeongwan's fingernail catches the swell of your clit, and you cry out against the corner of his mouth. He does it again, and again, and again, rubbing the hard nub until your face is wet with tears and drool. Jeongwan watches you unravel, his shallow breaths tickling your already-sensitive skin.

“You're so pretty, noona. So beautiful, so pretty … My pretty noona.”

Without warning, a finger tugs aside your panties and unfurls its narrow length across your cunt, dipping shallowly inside, and the direct contact sparks fireworks all over.

“Jeong—wan…!”

Not wanting to lose—even though this isn't a competition—you push past the overwhelming pleasure to unzip his jeans. You ignore his stuttering gasp, grabbing the band of his boxers and wrenching down, freeing his aching, leaking cock.

Red and huge and pretty and desperately in need of your touch, his cock is. You waste no time indulging it, indulging him, and his answering quiver and cry feed into your own pleasure. You give his erection a couple of pumps before pouring attention to the head, your thumb pressing into his slit.

“A-ahh, haa, noona, noona—”

In retaliation, Jeongwan presses his own thumb against your clit and slips his middle finger inside you.

“You're—tight—”

“Jeongwan,” you sigh, keeping your strokes rhythmic, and soon enough, Jeongwan's hips meet your movements.

Then he pushes another finger.

Your parted mouth on his skin crawls upward, to his ear, where you nip and nibble and suck. You lick the hole on his lobe, then bite at the flesh. When it leaves an indent, you move slightly downward and suck a hickey behind the ear. Jeongwan reflexively winces, and it's followed with a groan, and the fingers inside you curl and heat bursts at your core, spreading outwards like oil, viscous and thick.

Earlier, when he asked you to let him spend the night in your apartment, you had an inkling that something like this would happen. But the expectation is a little different from reality, the now. In your head, the scenario progresses more gently: you and Jeongwan on your bed, he reclined and you straddling him, guiding him patiently to your pleasure and his wide-eyed innocence slipping shut, your name tumbling out of his mouth in profuse sighs. But here, this: you and Jeongwan on your couch, he sat upright and you astride him, partially clothed, touching each other in frantic strokes, wet and drooling and burning desire all over, loud in your need for each other. It's baser, but in truth that's what you prefer—the uncontrollable overflowing, a waterfall, making a mess of each other.

After passing an invisible threshold, both your paces speed up, and Jeongwan increasingly gasps your name like a mantra. He's babbling, sprinkling phrases like so good and the best and my noona and yes, there, more in between. His cock pulses like it's ready to spill, pre-come smearing at your inner forearm.

“I'm going to come,” he slurs, catching you in another open-mouthed kiss. The hand between your legs is working harder as well, and you gasp in answer:

“Me too. Let's—ah—come together.”

“Y-Yeah … Oh, noona—”

You shift the angle of your caress and at the same time, using your free hand, slip under his shirt and drag your nails across his nipple. He cries out in response, a full-body jerk that derails the pace of his touch inside you. As a result his fingers hook something that makes you bowl over, and the thumb on your clit presses enough pressure to tip you over the edge, and you wail as white-hot waves crash over you, unstoppable in its intensity. Jeongwan keeps touching you, rubbing and pumping until your orgasm tides over. His eyes never leave your wracked-out form, absorbed by the bliss-out look on your face. He almost forgets that he's near the edge himself.

When you remember yourself, Jeongwan kisses you, cradles your body, lowers you in his lap, uncaring of the mess that's dripping between your legs.

“Oh,” you mumble, “sorry. Let me finish you—”

You resume stroking him, and gradually the pleasure takes over Jeongwan's face and whole body. Soon enough he's shaking and trembling and it's such a sight to see. You lightly scratch at his chest, and when he groans at that, you pinch one of his nipples.

His euphoria fills you with such satisfaction.

You don't stop your ministrations, and in mere seconds, Jeongwan repeatedly chants, “I'm coming. Noona, I'm coming. I'm going to come. I'm going to—”

He comes with a long, drawn-out cry, broken in places, loud in others. His spill reaches across your chest, soaking your damp shirt even further. His head falls onto the junction between your neck and shoulder, energy sapped by his climax.

You retrieve your hand and study the come splattered across your forearm—and mindlessly take a lick. Eyes following your movements, Jeongwan sees the moment your tongue sweeps the fluid off your skin and he groans, presses further into the crook of your neck.

“Noona,” he whines, glaring at you. “Don't do that! You're going to make me hard again!”

You glance at him, sly. “And that's a bad thing because…?”

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then it clicks. He reddens all over again, disbelief and embarrassment brightening his expression.

“At least let me catch my breath first!” He pouts, and you're overcome with the urge to bite at his lower lip again. “And savor the feeling, you know? I made my noona feel good, I'm so proud of myself.”

And now it's you who's embarrassed. Looking away, you clear your throat to move on from the topic. “Well, let's clean up first before continuing in the bedroom.”

Jeongwan shoots up at that, excited all of a sudden. “Got it, noona!” He stands, and you admire the speed with which he moves as if he hadn't just nutted furiously seconds ago. “Stay there, I'll get a washcloth.” Midway through, he pauses and throws you a coy look. “Later, I want you to be on top of me, noona. I like that, I love watching you enjoy me.”

And he walks on as though he hasn't upended your entire world from a few words alone.