jongst4r

[jongst4r]

hii 😸 !! i'm so obsessed w your writing lately... genuinely cannot get enough 👊😪

i wanted to see your take on enha + post argument make ups (or make outs...........)

also can i be 🪻 anon !? if available :3

merci beaucoup 😼

mwah! thank you anonie 🥹 and of course you can, all yours mon amour 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (putting my french to work lmao)

warnings: suggestive, kissing, making out (obviously), swearing, use of petnames, angst with a happy ending.

LEE HEESEUNG

the argument didn’t last long, but it lingers like smoke. you’re curled at the far end of the couch, arms crossed, and heeseung sits slouched on the other side, bottle of water forgotten on the table, knee bouncing with restless energy as he scoffs.

“you always do this,” you mutter, and his head snaps up.

“do what?” his voice is sharper than he means, and immediately he hates it.

silence. just the thrum of the tv in the background. his jaw flexes. he can’t stand the space between you — can’t stand that your eyes won’t meet his.

so he moves first. shifts across the couch, slow but determined, until his hand is on your knee. you don’t pull away, but you don’t look at him either.

“hey.” his voice is soft now, cracking just enough to make your chest twist. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean—”

you finally look up, eyes a little too glossy, lips pressed tight. it wrecks him.

“baby,” he breathes, hand sliding higher on your thigh, “i’m so sorry, come here.”

and then he’s leaning in, tentative at first, lips brushing yours like he’s testing the water. the second you let him in — the second your mouth parts — everything breaks.

he kisses you like he’s starving. like he’s been holding himself back all night. his hand fists in your shirt, dragging you against him, the other cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. the kiss is messy, teeth clicking, tongues sliding, his groan low in his throat when you tug at his hair.

you end up straddling his lap without even realizing when it happens, your knees bracketing his hips, his hands gripping your waist like he’s anchoring himself. heeseung pulls back just long enough to look at you, lips kiss-swollen, eyes dark and glassy.

“we’re okay?” he asks, breathless.

you nod, and he doesn’t waste a second — his mouth is back on yours, hungrier, needier, like the only way to make up for the fight is to swallow you whole.

PARK JONGSEONG

you slam the bedroom door harder than you mean to, but jay doesn’t follow you. he never does right away. he stews, pacing the kitchen, replaying every word he said until his chest aches with regret.

when he finally comes inside your bedroom, he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself. the sight cuts through his pride like glass.

“i hate when we fight,” he says simply, voice low. no excuses, no justifications. just raw honesty.

you glance up, wary, and he crosses the room in two strides. crouches in front of you so you can’t avoid his gaze.

“i’m sorry.” his hands find your thighs, firm but gentle, sliding up and down like he’s grounding himself. “i shouldn’t have said half of that. i didn’t mean it.”

you breathe out, shaky. “you were an asshole.”

“i know.” his mouth twists into the smallest smile, humorless. “i’m your asshole, though.”

you roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. that’s all the invitation he needs.

he leans in, kisses you once — soft, careful, like he doesn’t deserve more yet. then again, deeper this time, like he can’t help himself. when you don’t pull back, something snaps.

jay surges up, pushes you back onto the mattress, his body caging yours in. the kiss turns rough instantly — teeth nipping, tongue demanding. he kisses like he argues: precise, harshly, overwhelming.

your hands clutch at his shirt, dragging him closer, and he groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating down your spine. his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you flush against him, the weight of his body pressing you into the sheets.

“fuck,” he mutters against your lips, kissing you again before you can answer. “i hate fighting with you.”

“then don’t,” you gasp, but he swallows the rest of your words with another bruising kiss.

it’s not gentle, not soft — but it’s real. his apology is in every desperate drag of his mouth against yours, in the way he clings like he’ll never let go again.

SIM JAEYUN

the fight is stupid — over something small, blown up too fast. you’re curled up on the couch with your phone in hand, scrolling too aggressively, and jake is pacing the living room like a caged dog, hair falling into his eyes.

he hates this. hates the silence, hates the look on your face, hates knowing his words hurt you more than he meant.

finally he stops, blurts out, “i didn’t mean it, okay? i was just— i don’t even know, frustrated.” his voice cracks, desperate. “don’t stay mad at me, please.”

you sigh, and it’s enough to break him. he drops to his knees in front of you, resting his chin on your thigh, big brown eyes pleading up at you.

“baby,” he whispers, “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, i’m an idiot and i deserve your silence but please...”

you try to hold firm, but then he pouts, lips brushing over your skin like he’s begging for forgiveness in touches instead of words. and when you finally set your phone down, his relief is instant — he’s climbing onto the couch, giggling softly before kissing you before you can even breathe.

the kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he doesn’t kiss you fast enough. his hands are everywhere — sliding under your shirt, gripping your waist, tangling in your hair.

you laugh against his mouth, shaky, and he groans at the sound, kissing you harder, like laughter means you’re not mad anymore.

“you forgive me?” he pants between kisses.

“maybe, try again and i’ll think about it.” you tease, and he practically growls, dragging you into his lap, lips crashing against yours again until you can’t remember what the fight was even about.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon’s anger is quiet — sharp words, clipped tone, then silence. when you argued, he shut down, retreating into himself, and now he’s leaning against the bedroom wall, arms crossed, staring at the floor.

you hate the distance, but you wait. you know he needs to be alone right now, and you know him well enough to know he’ll come to you when he’s ready.

and he does. slow steps across the room, until he’s sitting beside you on the bed, hands fidgeting in his lap.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” he admits softly, eyes still down. “i don’t… i don’t want to lose you over stupid shit.”

the crack in his voice makes your chest ache. you reach for his hand, and the second your fingers touch, he looks up — eyes shining in the low light, jaw tight like he’s holding back more than he wants to say.

“you’re not.” you whisper, caressing his skin.

you lean in first, just a brush of lips. he freezes for half a second, then exhales sharply, cupping your face with both hands as he kisses you back.

and god, it unravels fast.

sunghoon kisses like he’s been starving, like the fight was just foreplay for this — mouths clashing, tongues sliding, teeth dragging across your bottom lip until you gasp. his hands slip under your shirt, fingers tracing your ribs, grip tightening like he’s trying to pull you into him.

you end up flat on your back, sunghoon braced above you, his hair falling into his eyes as he kisses you harder, deeper, lips swollen and wet.

he pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, voice rough. “i’ll make sure we never argue again.”

you nod, and his mouth is back on yours instantly, the kiss so hot and consuming it feels like the argument never stood a chance.

KIM SUNOO

fights with sunoo burn hot and fast. he’s fiery, words sharp, tears brimming in his eyes even when he’s trying not to cry. you argue, voices raised, and then you both go silent — the kind of silence that leaves your chest aching.

he locks himself in the bathroom for a while, and you sit on the couch, staring at your hands, wondering if he’s ever going to come out. when the door finally clicks open, he appears in the doorway, eyes red, lips puffy, arms crossed like he’s still holding on to the last of his pride.

you don’t move. he walks toward you slowly, every step hesitant, until he’s standing in front of you, looking down with a quiver in his lip.

“i don’t like yelling at you,” he admits, voice trembling. “i hate when we’re like this. it makes me feel like you don’t love me anymore.”

that breaks you. you reach for him, tugging him down onto your lap, and he collapses into your arms instantly, face pressed against your neck.

“i do love you, so much.” you whisper, and he lets out a shaky breath, clinging tighter.

when you tilt his chin up, he doesn’t hesitate — he crashes his lips against yours like he’s been waiting the whole night for it. the kiss is desperate, almost frantic, lips moving against yours with wet urgency, salty from the tears he hasn’t fully stopped.

your fingers slip into his hair, tugging just enough to make him whimper, and the sound goes straight to your stomach. sunoo’s hands are all over you — clutching at your shirt, sliding under it to press against warm skin, needing to feel you everywhere.

“don’t ever think i don’t love you,” you breathe against his mouth, and he nods, kissing you harder, tongue pushing against yours, teeth clashing like neither of you want to slow down.

you end up tangled together on the couch, sunoo straddling you, hair messy, lips swollen, kisses hot and wet and endless. the fight fades, forgotten, replaced by the desperate way he clings to you like he’ll never let go.

YANG JUNGWON

arguments with jungwon don’t explode — they simmer. he goes quiet, jaw clenched, his silence heavier than any shouted word. when it happens tonight, it leaves the room tense, your heart pounding as you wait for him to say something, anything.

instead, he disappears into the bedroom, door half-shut, and you sit there debating whether to follow. when you finally do, he’s perched on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“jungwon,” you say softly, but he doesn’t move.

you sit beside him, close enough to touch, and after a long moment, he lifts his head. his eyes are glassy, lips pressed tight, and it hurts to see him like this.

“baby…” you pout. “talk to me, please.”

“i don’t want us to fight,” he says finally, voice low, heavy with guilt. “i always feel like i let you down when i make you upset. i hate it.”

you reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his, and that small touch is enough to crack his restraint. he turns to you, eyes searching, and then he’s leaning in, kissing you like he’s desperate to prove himself.

the kiss starts soft, almost hesitant — but it doesn’t stay that way. jungwon deepens it quickly, tongue sliding against yours, hands coming up to cradle your face. his control slips with every second, his mouth growing hungrier, wetter, until you’re lying back against the bed, his body hovering over yours.

his hand slips under your shirt, palm pressing against your stomach, then higher, tracing every inch like he’s memorizing you all over again. you gasp into his mouth, and the sound makes him groan, kissing you harder, lips swollen and hot.

“i love you,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath ragged. “i love you so much. even when we fight.”

you tug him down, pulling him flush against you, and he kisses you until the room is spinning, until the weight of the argument disappears under the press of his body and the desperate way he clings to you.

NISHIMURA RIKI

fights with riki are brutal because he doesn’t hold back when he’s mad. he snaps fast, words like knives, and even if he regrets it right away, the damage is already there. tonight is no different — voices raised, his temper flaring, you trying to match him but ending up more hurt than angry.

“you never listen!” he shouts, jaw tight, chest rising and falling too fast. his tone is sharp, too sharp, and the second the words leave his mouth, his eyes flicker with regret — but he doesn’t back down. instead, he storms off, slamming the door so hard the frame rattles.

the silence after is heavy, almost suffocating. you sit on the couch, replaying the argument in your head, stomach twisting. half of you wants to give him space; the other half wants to march into the room and make him talk.

before you decide, the door creaks open. he stands there, hair messy from running his hands through it, shoulders tense, expression torn between pride and guilt. his eyes flick to you, then away, like he doesn’t know how to start.

“i… shouldn’t have said that,” he mutters finally, voice low but rough. he rubs the back of his neck, shifting his weight like he can’t stand still. “i was pissed, and i— i always go too far.”

you stay quiet, waiting. his eyes lift to yours, wide and a little desperate, like he’s terrified you won’t forgive him this time.

“i hate fighting with you,” he admits, voice breaking, “but i don’t know how to stop my mouth sometimes. it’s like—” he exhales sharply, frustrated with himself. “it’s like i’m watching myself fuck it up and i can’t even stop.”

your heart aches. you stand, closing the space between you, and his hands twitch like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t think he has the right. so you grab his shirt, tug him down, and kiss him.

he freezes for a second, then it’s like something in him snaps. his hands are everywhere at once — gripping your waist, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair — pulling you impossibly close. the kiss is harsh at first, almost punishing, teeth clashing, lips swollen within seconds.

“i’m sorry,” he groans against your mouth, over and over, the words slurred between hungry kisses. his hands fist the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

you stumble back until your legs hit the couch, and he pushes you down, climbing over you without breaking the kiss. his weight pins you, grounding you, his lips moving against yours with raw desperation.

when he finally pulls back for air, his forehead drops against yours, breaths ragged, lips red and swollen. “i can’t lose you,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “i’ll do better, i swear. just— don’t give up on me, please.”

you cup his face, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, and before you can even answer, he’s kissing you again — softer this time, slower, but still so intense it makes your chest ache.

the fight lingers in the background, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his mouth on yours, the way he clings to you like you’re the only thing holding him together.

© jongst4r, 2025

[jongst4r]

Hey hi may I know whether you write fluff? I went through your guidelines and it didn't mention anything as opposing or writing soft content.

If U ARE okay w writing fluff can U write something w Jake? Reader having a thing for his hands and he knows about it and low-key teases about it...

hi anonie! i do write fluff/soft content, so feel free to request it! <3

warnings: none!! just jake and reader being down bad for each other

jake’s hand is resting on the couch cushion between you, palm up, fingers relaxed like he left it there just for you. you try not to stare, but your eyes keep flicking down — tracing the long lines of his fingers, the veins that peek out under his skin.

you don’t even realize you’ve been staring until he shifts slightly, his voice low and amused.

“you’re doing it again,” he says with a smile. not even bothering to look at you, because he already knows.

heat floods your cheeks instantly. “i am not.”

“mhm,” he hums, like he doesn’t believe you for a second. he tilts his head toward you, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “it’s fine, you know. you don’t have to pretend.”

your chest tightens because of course he noticed you almost drooling.

“you’re ridiculous,” you mumble, trying to focus on the tv screen instead.

but then his hand moves, sliding just a little closer to your thigh. his fingers drum lazily against the cushion, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. like he’s putting on a show.

your eyes betray you again, flicking down.

he catches it immediately, laughing under his breath. “busted.”

you cover your face with both hands. “stooooop.”

but he isn’t letting you off that easy. he leans closer, his shoulder brushing yours, voice dropping like he’s letting you in on a secret. “so… tell me, which part do you like best? my fingers? my knuckles? the veins?”

you groan, dragging your hands down your face in frustration. “you’re evil.”

he smirks. “evil with nice hands, apparently.”

your gaze flicks down again despite your best efforts, and he notices. he wiggles his fingers dramatically, making you laugh even though you don’t want to.

“stop teasing me, meanie.” you say, swatting at him, but he catches your wrist before you can pull away.

his hand engulfs yours easily, warm and firm, and suddenly all the laughter in your chest melts into something softer. he threads his fingers through yours without hesitation, holding on like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“better?” he asks, eyes searching yours with a gentleness that makes your heart stumble.

you nod quickly, too embarrassed to form words.

he squeezes your hand, like he’s testing, like he’s making sure you really want this. when you don’t pull away, his smile grows softer, almost shy. “you don’t have to hide it. i like that you like them.”

“that’s… so unfair,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is?”

“you saying stuff like that. you’re too—” you cut yourself off, because the word that almost slips out is perfect.

he tilts his head, waiting patiently. “too what?”

“too much,” you settle on, but the look he gives you says he already knows.

he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. it’s just a small movement, but it sends warmth spreading up your arm. “good. i want to be too much for you.”

your heart thuds so loudly you’re afraid he can hear it. the teasing edge in his voice is still there, but underneath it is something softer, something that makes your chest ache.

you lean back against the couch cushion, trying to calm the chaos inside you, but jake doesn’t let go. he keeps your hand in his, fingers locked like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.

the tv keeps playing in the background, but you don’t hear a word of it. all you can think about is how warm his palm is, how steady his touch feels, how he doesn’t let go even when you shift and fidget.

finally, curiosity gets the better of you, and you whisper, “so… do you always know when i’m staring?”

he chuckles softly. “every single time.”

“and you just let me?”

“let you?” he repeats, raising a brow. “i love it. it’s cute. you think i don’t stare at you too?”

your head snaps toward him in disbelief, but he’s already grinning, like he’s been waiting for your reaction.

“you do not,” you accuse, though your voice wavers.

he leans in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “oh, i definitely do.”

your entire face burns, and you shove him lightly with your shoulder, but he only laughs, pulling you in tighter until you’re pressed against his side.

he lifts your joined hands between you, holding them up like proof. “see? this way, you don’t even have to stare. you can just have them.”

you roll your eyes, but your chest feels so full it’s hard to breathe. “you’re so cocky.”

“only with you,” he says simply, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

and just like that, all the teasing quiets, leaving only the steady warmth of his hand in yours, and the knowledge that maybe — just maybe — he’ll never let go.

© jongst4r, 2025

[jongst4r]

i have the worst cold ever just 7 days before seeing enha wtf is this

[jongst4r]

unsent pt.2 (s. jake)

(you can find part 1 here <3)

pairing: bff!jake x fem!reader || wc: 4.5k || cw: smut! kissing, making out, fingering, oral (f rec), p in v, use of protection (thank god), dirty talk, body worshipping, praise, use of petnames, swearing, jake is down bad (fr) but everything is pretty fluffy hehehe || warnings: +18 content, mdni!! || a/n: again, your wish is my command: you wanted part 2, you get part 2 🫣 i hope you enjoy it <3 (i’m pretty nervous about it ngl)

your apartment feels too small. you’re pacing barefoot, restless, the floor creaking under your steps. actually, you’ve spent the last ten minutes pacing from your couch to the door, from the door to the kitchen, from the kitchen back to the couch. and your heart hasn’t slowed once.

your phone is still clutched in your hand, screen dark now, jake’s last message burned into your brain. “i’m already getting dressed.”

you check your reflection in the mirror. your lips are swollen from biting them, your hair messy from running your hands through it too many times. you should fix it, you think, put on something cute, change out of the ratty shorts you put on. you pull at the hem of your shirt, tug it lower over your thighs, but it doesn’t help. nothing helps. but it’s too late for that — your phone buzzes. it’s him.

jake: i’m outside

your stomach drops. for a second, you just stand there, staring at the message, wondering if you should tell him not to come up, to turn back, that this was a mistake. you think about hiding under the blankets and pretending you never sent any message at all.

but your legs are already moving, carrying you to the door, fingers shaking as they wrap around the knob.

you pause, unable to twist it.

a sound breaks the silence. three short knocks.

your body jerks like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. you just stand there for a second, holding your breath, staring at the door like it might swallow you whole.

another knock, slower this time. “it’s me.” his voice, muffled but deep, slides right through the wood and down your spine.

your fingers twitch around the doorknob before you can talk yourself out of it. you twist it, heart pounding loud enough you’re scared he’ll hear it the second the door opens.

and then he’s there.

jake.

he stands in the hallway, hair pushed back like he got ready in a rush, his hoodie tugged half on, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. his chest rises and falls like he sprinted here, and the second his eyes lock on yours, the air shifts. heavy. charged.

“hey,” he says. his voice is low.

“hi.” yours comes out softer than you meant, almost breathless.

his eyes catch yours instantly. no smile, no joke, no best-friend casualness. they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them, pupils blown wide, heavy with something that makes your stomach flip.

you realize you’re staring, but so is he. his gaze drags down, slow and deliberate, over your bare legs, the oversized shirt clinging to your body in ways you suddenly regret and don’t regret at all. his throat bobs as he swallows.

“are you gonna let me in?” his voice is low, rough, carrying more than the question it asks.

your fingers tighten around the knob, like if you don’t hold on you might collapse right here in the doorway. “i—yeah. yeah, come in.”

you step back, but barely. his shoulder brushes yours as he moves past you, the touch searing through the thin fabric of your sleeve. you inhale, sharp, and his lips twitch like he noticed.

he doesn’t go far. just a few steps into the room, enough for you to shut the door behind him. and suddenly the space feels smaller. the air heavier. you can smell his cologne, faint but warm, something that makes your knees wobble.

silence stretches between you, but it’s not empty. it’s full. full of everything unsaid, everything done through screens just an hour ago.

you break first. “it’s… crazy.” your voice is barely above a whisper, breath shaky.

he turns, and the look in his eyes pins you in place. “yeah,” he says. “crazy that it took us so long.”

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. you want to argue, want to remind him you’re best friends, want to rewind time. but the words die on your tongue when he takes a step closer.

your back hits the door. you didn’t even realize you’d moved, but now you’re trapped between it and him. his chest inches from yours, the heat of his body radiating across the narrow gap.

“jake—” you try, weak, a warning or a plea, you can’t tell.

“don’t,” he cuts in softly. his eyes flick down to your lips, then back up. “don’t tell me you don’t want this.”

your heart stutters. you can feel your breath bounce off his hoodie, mingling with his. every nerve in your body is screaming at once, tangled between panic and desire, the memory of his voice in that last note — i want to taste you — looping in your head.

you don’t answer. you can’t.

for a moment, neither of you move. you just stare, his gaze darting down your body once, quick but sharp, before dragging back up to your face. his jaw tightens, like he’s holding something back.

you clear your throat. “we don’t—”

but the rest of the words never leave your mouth. his hand comes up, cupping your jaw, warm and steady.

“i’ve been going insane,” he whispers, thumb ghosting over your lower lip. “thinking about you like that. seeing you touching yourself for me. fuck, i can’t—” his words cut off, strangled, like he’s holding back.

you shiver, chest tight. your lips part under the press of his thumb, and it’s all the invitation he needs.

his mouth crashes onto yours.

it’s nothing like you’ve ever imagined. it’s hotter, desperate. it’s not careful. it’s not gentle. it’s messy, teeth clashing, tongues dancing, like he’s been starving and finally got a taste. you gasp against him, stumbling back a step, and he follows. his lips are soft but demanding, pulling a sound from you that you didn’t mean to make, something between a whimper and a moan.

his other hand lands on your hip, fingers digging in like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold you. you clutch at his hoodie, knuckles white, tugging him closer, closer, until there’s no space left between you.

you break for air only to breathe his name. “jake—”

he groans, forehead pressing against yours, his lips still hovering over your mouth. “you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, voice shaking with restraint. “been wanting this — wanting you — for so fucking long.”

and then he kisses you again, rougher this time, swallowing every thought you had about stopping.

“fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, the word hot against your lips. “been thinking about this since you sent me that picture.”

your hands fist into the front of his hoodie, pulling him even closer because of instinct, because the thought of him backing away is unbearable.

“jake, please,” you breathe, trying to catch your balance, but his tongue swipes against yours and you melt.

he groans, low in his chest, like the sound of you saying his name is enough to undo him. his other hand finds your waist, fingers digging in, guiding you back until your spine hits the wall.

the thud makes you gasp. he swallows it whole.

“you taste so fucking good,” he says against your lips, voice rough, hungry. his thumb drags along your jaw, tilting your head so he can kiss you deeper, harder.

your pulse pounds in your ears. your body buzzes, hot and needy, every nerve on fire just from the press of his mouth, the weight of his body pinning you.

“this is—” you try to say, but his lips are on your throat now, teeth grazing the skin, tongue soothing over the sting. your words break into a shudder. “this is insane.”

“yeah?” his teeth nip just below your ear, and your knees go weak. “then why do you sound like you don’t want me to stop?”

you moan, digging your nails into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, but it only makes him press harder into you, his hips flush against yours. you can feel him hard already, straining against his sweats. and another moan slips out of you.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen and pink.

“say it,” he murmurs, breathless. “say you want this too.”

your throat feels tight, your chest heaving. you know you should think, that you should stop and ask yourself if this will ruin everything, if crossing this line means you can never go back. but with his mouth swollen from kissing you, his body pressed so close you can feel his heartbeat hammering against yours, you can’t think.

you can only feel.

“i want this,” you whisper. “please.”

he exhales hard, like he’s been holding that breath for years. then he kisses you again, rougher this time, his hands sliding down your body, gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll back off if he lets go.

and this time, you don’t stop him.

his hands are everywhere — your waist, your hips, sliding down the curve of your thighs like he can’t decide where to touch first. every squeeze is firm, greedy, like he’s claiming you, like he’s reminding himself you’re real and actually letting him do this.

you arch against the wall, chasing more, but he’s relentless. his mouth moves over your jaw, down your neck, dragging open-mouthed kisses along your skin until you’re shivering. when his teeth scrape lightly at your collarbone, you gasp, and his lips curve into a smirk against you.

“god, you sound so fucking good,” he mutters, and then he’s sucking, hard, like he wants to leave a mark.

“jake,” you hiss, pushing at his chest with trembling hands. he leans back, searching your face, eyes wild and dark.

“too much?” his voice cracks on the question, like he’s terrified you’ll say yes.

“no,” you whisper. “i need more.”

the groan he lets out is guttural, raw, and then he’s on you again, kissing you harder than before, messy and hot. his hand slides under your shirt this time, palm dragging up your stomach until his thumb brushes the underside of your breast. you shudder, your head tipping back against the wall.

he pauses, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours. “fuck, i don’t know if—”

“don’t think about it” you breathe, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand higher.

his fingers flex, hesitating for only a second before curling around you, squeezing, thumb brushing over your nipple. your breath stutters, hips jerking forward, and the sound he makes is halfway between a moan and a curse.

“jesus, you’re so sensitive,” he says, his voice low, reverent almost, but there’s no patience in the way he thumbs at you, no hesitation when he finally pushes your shirt off your body, revealing your breasts.

you bite back a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders as his fingers tease you, circling, pinching lightly.

“been thinking about your tits all fucking night,” he admits against your mouth, words hot and ragged. “kept imagining how they’d feel in my hands, how they’d look bouncing while i fuck you.”

your thighs press together, desperate, a whine escaping before you can stop it.

he grins, feral, and presses his thigh between yours, grinding you against the muscle. “look at you. already soaking, aren’t you?”

“jake—” your voice breaks on his name, needy, and he swallows it with another kiss.

he drags his hand back down your body, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. his lips are still on yours when he breathes, “want them off. now.”

your pulse spikes, chest heaving, but you nod, fumbling with the drawstring. your hands shake, nerves and want tangled into one.

he pulls back just enough to watch you, his lips red, eyes dark and hungry. his chest rises and falls fast, like he’s barely holding himself back.

“fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice hoarse, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.”

the shorts slip down your thighs, pooling at your feet. the cool air hits your damp panties, and the look on his face when he sees the wet patch clinging to you makes your whole body flush.

“holy shit,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “you’re fucking dripping.”

“it’s all because of you.” you whisper back, licking your lips.

he looks wrecked already, like the sight alone might undo him. his hand comes up to cup your cheek again, rough thumb swiping across your skin like he can’t decide whether to be gentle or filthy.

“tell me to stop,” he says, even though his other hand is already hooking into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down.

you meet his eyes, your own wide, lips parted, chest rising fast. “don’t you dare.”

and then the last piece of fabric falls, and you’re bare in front of him, trembling under the weight of his stare.

he drops to his knees.

“jake—”

“shut up,” he growls, pressing a kiss to your hipbone, hot and wet. “i told you i wanted this. been waiting all night to taste this pussy. i’m not wasting another fucking second.”

and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.

his tongue is hot and insistent the moment it slides over you, a long, deliberate stroke that makes your knees buckle. you grab for the wall, for his hair, for anything that keeps you upright, but he hooks his arms around your thighs and pins you there, keeping you steady against the wall while his mouth works you open.

“fuck, jake—” the words fall out broken, high-pitched, as his tongue curls against your clit.

he hums, the vibration making your whole body shiver, and then he does it again, slower this time, savoring, like he wants to memorize every reaction.

“you taste better than i’ve ever dreamed.” he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips shining.

your head tips back, a choked sound leaving your throat. “dreamed?”

he chuckles against your skin, dragging his tongue along your slit before dipping into you again, deep, sloppy. “you don’t wanna know how many nights i’ve jerked off thinking about you.”

you moan at his words, getting even wetter. your hand fists in his hair, pulling, and he groans like he loves it. his lips close around your clit and suck hard, sending a sharp pulse of heat straight through your core.

“fuck, oh my god—” your hips twitch, trying to pull away, but he drags you closer instead, pressing you flat to the wall, devouring you like he’s starving.

his tongue flicks in fast circles, relentless, while two fingers slide into you without warning. you gasp, legs trembling, and he growls low, like the way you clamp down around him is driving him insane.

“so fucking tight,” he mutters, curling his fingers just right until sparks shoot through you. “can’t wait to stretch you open on my cock.”

your thighs shake, his grip tightening to hold you still. you can barely form words, your breath ragged, chest heaving.

“jake, i—i can’t—”

“yes you can.” his voice is rough, urgent, muffled against you. “you’re gonna come for me. i know you can, baby.”

his pace quickens — fingers thrusting deep, tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit — and the pressure builds so fast it nearly knocks you under.

“please, please, don’t stop—”

“i’m not stopping, pretty,” he rasps, mouth locked on you, “gonna drink every drop when you let go.”

and you do.

the orgasm rips through you sharp and sudden, your whole body convulsing as you cry out, your nails digging into his scalp, your thighs squeezing around his head. he moans into you, eating you through it, lapping up everything you give him until you’re trembling, boneless, sliding down the wall.

he finally pulls back, lips swollen, chin slick, eyes dark and blown out. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like he just won something.

“fuck, you’re gorgeous when you come.”

you’re panting, trying to catch your breath, but he doesn’t give you a chance. he stands, towering over you again, and presses a filthy kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him.

“now,” he whispers against your mouth, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh through his sweats, “time to fulfill my another promise.”

his mouth is still hot against yours when you feel him shove your leg higher around his hip, grinding the thick length of him into your bare, soaked core. the fabric of his sweats does nothing to hide just how hard he is.

you whimper into the kiss, tugging at his waistband. “jake, off, please, i want them off.”

he breaks away, panting, forehead pressed to yours. “fuck—yeah. yeah, baby.”

his hands fumble with the drawstring, yanking the sweats down just enough for his cock to spring free, thick and flushed, already dripping precum. the sight alone makes your pussy clench, your body aching to be filled.

he strokes himself once, rough and fast, groaning under his breath as his eyes lock on yours. “condom?” he rasps, voice hoarse.

you shake your head quickly, hands trembling as you reach for shorts, discarded on the floor. you search in your pockets, dragging one out and shoving it into his palm.

“so eager for me you even had a condom on you?” he teases you, smirking as he tears it open with his teeth, rolling it down in seconds, his jaw tight, movements impatient.

“been dying to get inside you all night,” he mutters, lining himself up at your entrance.

the blunt head of his cock presses against you, and your breath catches. your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails biting into skin.

“please, jake,” you whisper.

his eyes darken, pupils blown wide. “say it again.”

“please—fuck me.”

the growl he lets out is animal, low and raw, and then he pushes in.

you gasp, the stretch burning at first, but then it melts into pure heat, pure want. he buries himself to the hilt in one deep thrust, his forehead slamming against your shoulder, a strangled curse ripping from his throat.

“holy fucking shit,” he groans, voice breaking. “so—so tight. fuck, you’re perfect.”

your legs wrap around him, locking him in place. you’re full, so full you can barely breathe, every nerve lit up.

“move, please,” you beg, desperate, nails dragging down his back.

he does. he pulls out halfway, then slams back in, the force of it making the wall rattle behind you. your cry is muffled against his neck, your body jolting with every thrust.

“yeah?” he pants, fucking into you harder, faster. “this what you wanted? me ruining you against the wall?”

“yes—fuck, yes—”

he presses his forehead to yours again, eyes wild, lips brushing yours with every ragged breath. “been wanting to fuck you like this for years, you know that? imagining how you’d sound, how you’d squeeze around me.”

his words send a pulse straight to your core, and you clench tighter around him. he groans, snapping his hips harder, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room.

your moans mix with his curses, messy and raw. his hand slips between your bodies, thumb circling your clit, and you nearly scream, your whole body bucking into him.

“that’s it, baby,” he rasps, his thrusts relentless. “give it to me. come for me while i’m inside you.”

the coil tightens fast, too fast, the sensation overwhelming. you’re shaking, crying out his name, your orgasm tearing through you with a force that nearly blinds you.

you clamp down around him, and he loses it, groaning loud, hips stuttering, until he’s spilling into the condom, his whole body trembling as he buries himself deep one last time.

the sound of your combined breaths is still echoing in the hallway, you pull back slightly, resting your forehead against his. your chest is pumping up and down, your legs trembling. the heat between you hasn’t even begun to fade — it’s only sharpened, pulling at you in a way that makes you dizzy.

“wait,” you murmur, your voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but he catches it immediately. he leans back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, lips swollen, chest rising and falling.

“yeah?” his voice is rough, deep, desperate still.

“i… i want more,” you admit, heat flaring in your cheeks. “i want to be on top.”

his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.

“fuck,” he breathes, as if he can’t believe you said it, “you’re incredible.”

he presses you closer, sliding a hand along your back, feeling the curve of your waist, the warmth radiating from your body. “you’ve got no idea how much i want this. how much i want you.”

you grin, heart hammering, and slip your hands into his hair, tugging gently. “then let me show you how much i want you.” you whisper, and step back just a little, guiding him toward your bedroom with soft, teasing touches. he follows immediately, eyes locked on yours, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation.

once in the bedroom, you move together against the wall for a heartbeat, the cool surface pressing against your back. his hands travel over your hips, thighs, chest, worshipping every curve. you can feel his hard length pressing insistently against you, and it makes your stomach flutter.

“you’re perfect,” he mutters, voice ragged, pressing a kiss to your jaw, over your shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “so fucking perfect. my god, look at you.”

you bite your lip, shivering, and finally take control. you take his hand, guiding him towards your bed. sliding down carefully, you pull the condom from your nightstand and roll it on him with a practiced hand, your fingers brushing his skin in a way that makes him hiss softly.

then you straddle him, letting your heat meet his with a slow, torturous pressure. his hands clutch your hips, gripping, holding you steady as you rock forward just enough to feel him inside you. his breath catches, eyes fluttering closed, and he moans your name.

“fuck… you look so good on me,” he groans, voice shaking with need. “so beautiful… my body was made for you.”

you bite your lip, heart racing, and begin to move, slowly at first, savoring the way he fills you, the warmth, the weight, the tightness. every thrust makes him groan, every roll of your hips pulls him closer to the edge.

“keep going,” he rasps, fingers digging into your sides. “fuck… god, you’re driving me insane. ride me, baby.”

the coil in your stomach tightens faster than you want, the sensation overwhelming. in just a few more seconds you’re shaking, crying out his name, your orgasm tearing through you with a force that nearly blinds you.

he groans loudly, lost in your heat, hips stuttering, before spilling into the condom, body trembling with a shudder that rocks the bed. you clamp down instinctively around him, feeling him quiver and release, and his hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place for a moment longer, as if he can’t bear to let go.

the two of you collapse together, bodies slick and panting, chest pressed together, hearts hammering in unison. the room is filled with your ragged breaths and soft moans.

“god, baby,” he whispers, brushing sweat-soaked hair from your face, “you… you’re insane. i could do this forever.”

you tilt your head up, a slow, satisfied smile curving your lips. “mhm, really?” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

his laugh is low, almost a growl, and he pulls you closer, still trembling but utterly captivated by you.

for a few minutes, the world is silent except for the sound of your breathing. you’re still above him, your sweaty cheek against his, lips barely touching.

he doesn’t move, just stays inside you, his hands tracing little figures on your back.

finally, he whispers, voice wrecked but soft:

“been wanting you for so fucking long.”

his words hang there, heavy. you almost can’t believe he said them out loud, making everything feel so… real. both of you are still pressed together, bodies slick with sweat. the reality of what just happened is only now settling in, but instead of panic, there’s this raw ache in your chest — like you’ve been waiting just as long as him, even if you never admitted it.

he eases out of you carefully, both of you groaning at the sensitivity, and slides the condom off, knotting it before tossing it aside. his hands immediately return to your back, smirking at you as he sees your legs wobbling.

“baby, you’re shaking,” he murmurs, half-giggling as he brushes damp strands of hair off your face. his voice is gentler now.

“you did that,” you manage to tease, though your voice is wrecked, still hoarse from all the moaning.

his mouth quirks into a smirk, but it softens when his eyes meet yours. “come on, let’s get you more comfortable.”

he scoops you up before you can protest, carrying you to the middle of your bed. the move should feel ridiculous — he’s sweaty, you’re sweaty, he’s still half-dressed, and both of you are totally disheveled — but when he sets you down carefully on the mattress, like you’re something fragile, it knocks the air out of you.

he climbs in beside you after taking his shoes, sweatpants and boxers off.

“can’t have me dirtying your bed with sweaty clothes.” he chuckles. you laugh out loud.

“jake, we just fucked, the bed is dirty already.”

he shrugs funnily, pulling the blanket halfway over both of you even though neither of you needs it. his arm snakes around your waist, tugging you against his chest, and for the first time all night, the desperation melts into something deeper.

for a while, it’s just quiet. your head against his collarbone, his lips brushing the top of your hair.

“are you okay?” he finally asks, voice low.

you tilt your face up to look at him. his expression more vulnerable that you’re used to see. “yeah. more than okay.”

he exhales, relief flooding his features, and presses a kiss to your forehead. then, softer, almost shy, he whispers. “i wasn’t just talking dirty, you know? when i said i’ve wanted you.”

your heart stutters.

“jake…”

“don’t—don’t freak out, please,” his arm tightens around you like he’s bracing for rejection. “i just… i didn’t think i’d ever get this. you and me. and now that i have it, i don’t want it to be a one-time thing.”

the words sink in slowly, melting into the haze of your post-orgasmic glow. your chest aches with something terrifying and beautiful all at once.

you lean up, brushing your lips over his, mouthing frantic this time, but tender. “then it’s not a one-time thing.”

he stares at you for a second, like he’s making sure you mean it, before kissing you back with so much sweetness that makes your stomach flip.

when he pulls away, he chuckles weakly. “fuck. if i’d known it would feel like this, i would’ve confessed years ago.”

you smile, burying your face in his chest to hide how wide it is. “guess we’re both idiots.”

his laugh rumbles under your cheek, warm and steady.

“i’m so glad you sent me that picture.”

© jongst4r, 2025

[jongst4r]

just a small update!

all your requests will be published next week, as i’ll be traveling to see enha (i’m gonna cry </3) and i won’t have much time to write, so i’m already organizing them 🙂‍↕️

[jongst4r]

hey i saw your concert outfit and it looks so nice!! I like the red touch and the accessories in general! It looks so pretty❤️

mine is in 11 days and i just finished my outfit too after many fails, the stress is real😭 but you look really good!!! Enjoy🫂

oh anonie thank you sooo much 😭<3 tbh i was going for a red vibe since it’s my favorite color (can you tell? 🧍🏻‍♀️) 🙂‍↕️

you’re seeing enha too?? that’s amazing omg! 🥹 i hope you enjoy the concert soooo much (and i’m sure your outfit will be suuuuuuuper beautiful!!!!!) <3

[jongst4r]

Hii i suggest adding a cut to your fics after the "pairing" and stuff like that (like in your concert fit pics) !

you’re so right anonie 😔 i used to do it (bc i remember people would get mad whenever fics didn’t have a cut) but after seeing people not doing it i just… switched lanes(? lmao 😭

but i’ll probably do it more often hehe 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[jongst4r]

Waiting for unsent pt 2🤤

maybe you should check my profile in an hour and 20 mins 👀👀👀 just maybe

[jongst4r]

enha concert outfit under the cut <3

what do you guys think? 🥺 it’s still 9 days away but ngl i’m feeling a liiiiiittle self conscious so i need reassurance that i don’t look too bad 😭😭😭

[jongst4r]

make me snap (l. heeseung)

pairing: dom!heeseung x sub!reader || wc: 4.2k || cw: smut! friends with benefits relationship, possessive, jealous!hee, making out, fingering, oral (f rec.) p in v, unprotected sex (don’t.), use of petnames, praise, swearing, mentions of alcohol || warnings: 18+ content! mdni || a/n: can you guys tell i love dominant hee 😁

you’re pretty sure he’s been watching you all night.

not that he’d admit it, though.

not that you’d to stop, either.

your lipstick is perfect — pink and glossy, catching the low light with just the right shine, just the way he likes it. your laugh rings out a little louder than usual, carefree and just a bit too bright, drawing eyes — especially his.

your hand lingers on the bicep of the guy beside you, tracing slow, lazy circles, nails barely brushing his skin. you don’t even remember his name, but it doesn’t matter.

what matters is the way heeseung is looking at you from across the room, beer bottle in hand, back pressed against the wall.

his jaw is tense, like he’s trying to contain himself. his eyes are fixed on you, burning with a complicated mix of something you can’t quite name yet. frustration? want? jealousy?

he’s trying so hard to look unimpressed. bored, even. but you know better. you can see the flickers in his gaze, the way his muscles tighten, the subtle hitch in his breath when you move closer to the guy beside you.

you shift your hips ever so slightly, just enough for heeseung to catch the motion. his eyes drop for a second — just one — tracing the curve of your ass, before snapping back up to your face. fake disinterest painted perfectly across his features.

however, every time you lock eyes with him, you don’t look away. you hold his gaze across the room, playful, deliberate, letting him stew in it while your fingers keep brushing down the stranger’s arm. you know exactly what you’re doing — what effect it’ll have on him.

heeseung isn’t your boyfriend. he never has been. but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been in your bed more times than you can count, doesn’t mean he hasn’t had you moaning his name against the walls of your apartment, doesn’t mean he hasn’t told you in the dark how good you feel, how much he wants you, craves your body.

but that’s all it is. friends who know each other too well. friends who fuck when it’s convenient. friends who don’t talk about what it means when his lips linger a little longer than necessary, or when you text him at 2am just to feel the weight of him pressed against you.

your laugh comes out sweeter than it should, brushing against the nameless guy’s shoulder, but your eyes never leave heeseung.

he takes a slow pull from his beer, throat working, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. he’s annoyed — you can see it, clear as day. it’s clear by the pressure on his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the neck of the bottle like he’s holding himself back from marching over to you and pulling you away.

he always does this. pretends it doesn’t bother him, pretends he doesn’t care who else gets your attention, pretends he isn’t keeping mental notes of every laugh, every glance, every shift of your hips.

and yet, when you excuse yourself from the stranger’s side and make your way towards the back of the club, it takes less than thirty seconds for heeseung to follow.

you hear his footsteps before you feel his presence, his shadow falling over you as you stop by the bathroom door.

“what was that?” his voice is low, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

you turn to him slowly, deliberately, tilting your head with a sly smile. “what was what?”

his jaw ticks. “don’t play dumb.”

“i was just talking,” you say, batting your lashes. “is that a crime now?”

he doesn’t answer, eyes locking into yours as he scoffs playfully.

“what?” you ask, cocking your head, eyes wide and innocent, but your smile is pure mischief. “been staring for a while.”

he smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smirk he doesn’t want to admit.

“watching you make a fool of yourself?” he says smoothly, lifting the bottle to his lips with an exaggerated nonchalance. “yeah. hard to miss.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer so your perfume — warm, subtle, just a hint of something sweet — drifts into his space, making his nostrils flare without him realizing it. “jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you murmur, voice low, teasing.

he laughs, but it’s low and bitter, a sound that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “jealous?” he repeats, voice dipping into something darker, more dangerous, the kind of tone that makes your pulse skip.

he leans down, just enough for his breath to ghost over your ear. “baby, i could fuck you right here and remind you who you really want.”

the words are sharp, possessive — a warning wrapped in desire. but you don’t flinch. instead, you tilt your chin up, challenge burning in your gaze. “is that a promise or a threat?”

his lips twitch, but he’s too wound up to play coy. “both,” he says, voice low and rough, fingers brushing against your waist with just enough pressure to send heat radiating through your skin.

you laugh softly, a sound full of confidence, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him. “you’re mad,” you say, voice teasing, fingers slipping around his wrist as if to hold him back but really just to draw him closer.

“mad enough,” he says, eyes darkening, “to show you what happens when you push me too far.”

your heart races, the tension between you crackling with electricity. the room, the noise, the people — all fade away until it’s just you two, a storm about to break.

heeseung’s jaw clenches, the fight in him barely contained as his gaze drills into yours. “you think you’re in control?” he murmurs. “think again.”

you press your body closer, tracing your fingers along the line of his collarbone, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch.

“maybe I want to lose control,” you whisper, eyes glittering with dare and promise.

he exhales sharply, lips brushing your cheek in a featherlight touch that feels like fire.

“then let’s see how far you can take this,” he says, voice low and intense.

his words hang in the air, heavy and dangerous, and you feel the rush of it slide down your spine. he’s not angry — no, that would almost be easier. this is worse. this is him entertained, watching you push, watching how far you’ll go before he drags you back.

your lips curl. “you make it sound like a game.”

“isn’t it?” heeseung’s smirk deepens, and when he takes a lazy sip of his beer, you want to slap it out of his hand just so you can wipe that smug expression off his face. “you flirt, i watch. you test me, i let you. for now.” his eyes glint, daring. “but you always come running back, don’t you?”

you hum thoughtfully, like you’re actually considering it. “depends,” you say, lifting your chin. “on if you’re worth it.”

his laugh is quiet, but the kind that vibrates through his chest — mocking, deep. “oh, baby,” he murmurs, leaning closer until the world outside the two of you dissolves into muffled chatter. his breath fans hot against your skin. “don’t pretend anyone else has ever fucked you like i do.”

your throat tightens, but you don’t let it show. instead, you let your nails drag ever so lightly down the front of his shirt, tugging at the hem. “cocky,” you whisper. “arrogant. sounds like someone’s scared i might find out.”

his jaw flexes. his eyes flick down to your lips, lingering just long enough for your heart to stumble before they snap back up. “scared?” his voice drops into something darker, silk edged with steel. “no. curious.”

“curious?” you echo.

his free hand finds your hip, grip firm, thumb pressing slow circles into your dress. “how far you’d go. how much you’d push me. how much you’d let me watch before you break.”

your breath hitches, and he catches it, the smug twist of his mouth telling you he heard.

“heeseung—”

“shh,” he cuts you off, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, voice so low only you can hear. “you want to play? fine. but you don’t get to win. not with me.”

you tilt your head, eyes half-lidded, pulse racing. “maybe i’m not trying to win.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, and the spark in his gaze makes your knees weak. “then what are you trying to do?”

you smile, slow and wicked. “see how long you’ll let me drive you insane before you finally give in.”

he stares at you, long enough to make your stomach knot, then lets out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head like he can’t believe the nerve.

“careful,” he says, voice dropping an octave, heavy with promise. his thumb drags up your waist, grazing just under the edge of your ribs, teasing at skin. “you’re walking a fine fucking line, baby.”

“and you love it,” you shoot back without hesitation, eyes burning into his.

and he laughs again, low, amused, but there’s nothing soft about it. “god, you’re such a brat.”

his grip tightens, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his, the heat between you suffocating, addictive. his lips hover just above yours, not kissing, not touching, just letting the tension grow until you’re aching.

“keep testing me,” he whispers, so close you can taste the beer on his breath. “see what happens when i finally snap.”

you smirk, leaning closer into him, batting your eyelashes as you look into his eyes. “sounds like a dare.”

his grin sharpens, dangerous and amused all at once. “it is, go on,” heeseung murmurs, tilting his head like he’s offering you a dare, eyes glittering with something reckless. “if you’re so sure you can push me—” he leans in close enough for your lips to almost touch, the words dropping heavy between you, “—make me snap.”

you blink at him, pulse spiking. “are you serious?”

he takes a slow sip of his beer, gaze never leaving yours, the picture of maddening calm. “dead serious.”

something in your chest twists — half thrill, half challenge. “fine,” you breathe, the corner of your lips curving. “don’t regret it.”

you step back, letting your hand drag across his chest as you move away, savoring the way his jaw ticks at the loss of contact. your heels click against the floor, music thumping louder as you slip into the crowd.

the dance floor is packed, lights flashing in pinks and blues, heat from the bodies around you sticking to your skin. you let yourself melt into it, swaying your hips to the rhythm, head tilting back as your hips roll slow, purposeful.

and just like you expect — you’re not alone for long.

a guy slides in behind you, hands hovering at your waist like he’s testing the waters. you don’t push him away. instead, you press back ever so slightly, letting the rhythm guide you. your hair brushes your bare shoulders, lips parting in a smile you know is visible even from across the room.

and you know heeseung is watching.

you feel it — the weight of his stare from where he leans against the wall, that beer still in his hand, expression carved into bored disinterest. but you see it, the flicker in his eyes, the tight set of his shoulders, the way his throat bobs when your body dips low, your ass brushing against the stranger’s hips.

another man approaches, sliding in on your left, leaning down to murmur something in your ear. you laugh, too loud, too sweet, tilting your head so heeseung can catch the glossy shine of your lips when you smile.

your fingers trail up the stranger’s arm lazily, nails skimming over muscle. he leans closer, and you let him, body arching toward him while you keep your eyes fixed on your real target.

heeseung doesn’t move. not yet. but the smirk pulling at his lips tells you he’s enjoying the show more than he should.

your heart drums wild, each sway of your hips a provocation, each laugh a spark in the fire you’re building. you lean back into the man behind you, head falling against his shoulder, your body grinding slow to the beat.

the music drowns out everything else, but even then, you can feel it — the coil of tension stretching tighter and tighter across the room, his patience thinning by the second.

you lick your lips, throw your head back with a laugh, and think, how much longer before he breaks?

the bass rattles the floor, neon lights blinking, voices echoing through the music, but nothing drowns out the weight of heeseung’s stare. you can feel it like a touch — hot, heavy, dragging over you with every roll of your hips.

the guy behind you grows bolder, hands finally settling on your waist, tugging you closer as you grind back into him. another leans down to whisper something filthy in your ear, his breath sticky with liquor, and you laugh again — airy, careless, loud enough for him to hear.

and that’s what does it.

heeseung moves.

it’s subtle at first, just the shift of his shoulders as he pushes off the wall, bottle abandoned on a nearby table. but when you catch sight of him through the haze of bodies, weaving his way toward you with calm, deliberate strides, your stomach flips.

he looks like sin wrapped in casual confidence: black shirt clinging to his chest, dark hair falling into sharp eyes that don’t waver, don’t blink. he doesn’t rush — he doesn’t need to. the crowd seems to part around him, like even the music knows better than to stand in his way.

the men around you don’t notice him until he’s there, until his hand closes around your wrist, warm and unyielding, pulling you back against his chest. you stumble into him, gasping at the sudden shift, your body caged by his.

“party’s over,” heeseung says low, right against your ear, so calm it’s almost terrifying.

the guy behind you bristles. “hey, man, we were just—”

heeseung turns his head, fixes him with a single look — sharp, dark, dangerous — and the words die in the stranger’s throat. he raises his hands in surrender, backing off with a muttered curse. the one at your side follows quickly after, melting into the crowd without another word.

and then it’s just you and him.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you whisper, but your voice isn’t steady, breath coming too fast as his grip on your wrist tightens just enough to keep you anchored.

he leans in, nose brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “doing what you wanted.” his voice is smooth, mocking. “snapping.”

your pulse kicks up, heat flooding your chest as he drags you off the dance floor, through the throng of people too drunk or distracted to care. you try to protest, try to laugh it off, but your body betrays you, following eagerly, thighs brushing his with each hurried step.

when he finally pushes you against the wall just outside the dance floor — half-hidden in shadow, the beat of the music still thrumming through the walls — your back hits the plaster with a dull thud. he plants one hand beside your head, the other sliding around your waist, pinning you in place.

“was it fun?” he asks, voice deceptively soft, though his eyes are anything but. “letting them touch you, letting them look at you like that?”

you smirk, but your voice trembles when you answer. “maybe.”

his thumb traces the dip of your hipbone, pressure light but maddening. “you really think anyone else gets to see you like this?” he tilts his head, studying your face, lips brushing so close to yours it makes your knees weak. “you think i’ll let that happen?”

you meet his stare, your own daring, even as your chest heaves. “and what if i wanted them to?”

his jaw ticks. his eyes darken. and then he laughs, low, humorless, the sound vibrating against your lips. “then i guess i’ll just have to remind you who is the only one who can.”

before you can fire back, his mouth crashes onto yours — not gentle, not testing. claiming you. his hand slides up your side, pressing you closer, while his teeth nip at your bottom lip hard enough to sting.

the kiss is messy, desperate, all tongue and heat, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless and shaky. he swallows your gasp when his thigh slots between yours, pressing up just enough to make you grind down instinctively.

his lips drag down your jaw, over the pulse hammering in your neck. “fuck,” he mutters against your skin, breath ragged, “you drive me insane.”

you laugh softly, half-dazed, tilting your head back to give him more space. “good.”

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his smirk sharp and wicked. “you’re gonna regret saying that, baby.”

his hand slips lower, fingers digging into your hip, the promise in his gaze leaving you trembling with anticipation.

“come.” he mutters, grabbing your hand and walking towards the maintenance room.

he closes the door behind you, and his mouth is on yours in seconds.

nothing about this is soft. his lips are rough, demanding, his tongue sliding past yours like he’s starving for you. like he’s trying to erase every trace of the words you whispered to other men.

his hand slides down your side, gripping your thigh, hiking it around his hip. you whimper into the kiss, one hand fisting the fabric of his shirt.

“that what you wanted?” he growls against your lips. “wanted me pissed off so i’d fuck it out of you?”

“wanted you to do something,” you gasp.

he laughs. “oh, baby. i’m gonna do everything.”

he turns you around, presses your chest against the door with his body pinning yours. his hands slide up your thighs, under your dress, gripping your ass hard enough to bruise.

“you don’t get to act like a brat and walk away like that,” he mutters. “gonna teach you some fucking manners.”

you feel him push your panties aside, his fingers dragging through your folds. he groans under his breath.

“of course you’re wet,” he hisses. “you love when i get like this.”

you do.

he sinks two fingers into you, curling them up until your forehead hits the wood with a soft thud. he fucks you slow at first, just enough to tease, then faster — fingers working you open, palm pressed against your clit.

your hips stutter and he laughs.

“those guys back there wouldn't know what to do with you,” he sneers. “wouldn’t know how to make you fall apart like this.”

“then show me,” you bite back.

he pulls his fingers out of you suddenly and spins you around again. before you can beg, he sinks to his knees.

“be careful what you wish for,” he says, and then his mouth is on you.

your head drops back with a sharp moan as his tongue runs through your folds, slow and deliberate. he knows exactly where to lick — where to suck — how to get your legs shaking in minutes. he eats you like he’s addicted, groaning into your cunt, arms locked around your thighs to keep you in place.

he sucks your clit hard and your knees buckle.

“heeseung—” you gasp, nails digging into his scalp.

“say it again.”

“heeseung, please—fuck—”

“so sweet when you beg,” he growls. “so much for all that attitude.”

his tongue pushes into you and you swear you black out for a second.

he doesn’t stop — not even when you start shaking, not even when your voice breaks around a whimper. his fingers return, curling just right, fucking you through it while he flicks his tongue over your clit like he owns you.

your orgasm hits hard, sudden and messy, making your thighs squeeze around his head as you cry out his name like a prayer.

he finally pulls back, lips wet, eyes dark.

“better?” he asks smugly.

you don’t answer.

you’re too busy pulling him up by the collar, crashing your lips against his again, tasting yourself on his tongue.

the ride back to his apartment is suffocating.

not from silence — no, you’re both laughing, barely holding it together, flushed and breathless and hiding the evidence of what just happened back in the club. but the tension sits thick in the car, coiled between your thighs. every time you shift in your seat you feel the mess he made of you, and every time he glances at you from the driver’s side with that smirk tugging at his mouth, you want to climb onto his lap.

but you wait.

you wait until he parks. until the elevator door closes and you’re pressed up against it, your back to the mirror and his hands already under your dress. he groans into your mouth when he finds you still soaked.

“so needy,” he mutters. “didn’t even try to clean up?”

“why would i?” you whisper, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “thought you liked it messy.”

“i love it messy.”

he kisses you again, slow and deep this time. when the elevator dings, he doesn’t stop — he just reaches around you, hits the right button, and kisses you harder.

by the time you stumble through his apartment door, you’re both a mess of tangled limbs and half-muttered curses. he barely gets it shut before you’re pulling at his belt.

“bed,” he says, warning in his voice.

“here,” you counter, eyes daring. “unless you’re scared.”

his jaw ticks.

you watch him shift. feel the tension settle into something darker.

“careful,” he says, stepping close, towering over you. “you forget what happens when you talk like that?”

“maybe i want to forget,” you murmur. “so you’ll remind me.”

and just like that, you’re bent over the couch.

he doesn’t undress you gently. his fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down your thighs and letting them drop to the floor before shoving your dress up around your waist. his hands are rough on your skin — not cruel, just desperate. wanting. claiming.

“legs wider,” he mutters.

you hesitate just a second too long, and he delivers a sharp slap to the back of your thigh. you yelp — not from pain, from surprise — and your knees buckle slightly.

“i said wider.”

you obey.

his hand strokes between your thighs again, slower this time. your breath hitches.

“still so wet,” he says, voice dropping. “what am i gonna do with you, huh? teasing me all night, acting like a brat…”

“you like it,” you whisper, turning your head to glance at him.

“i love it,” he admits, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “but you know what i love more?”

you don’t have time to answer — he slides into you in one, smooth stroke.

your gasp is immediate, back arching, nails digging into the cushions.

“fuck,” you breathe. “heeseung—”

“say it again.”

“heeseung—please—”

he moves, slow and deep at first. dragging out every thrust, letting you feel every inch of him. one hand wrapped in your hair, the other gripping your hip like a vice.

then he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in.

you cry out. there’s no point pretending. no point holding anything back. not when he fucks you like this — rough, fast, like he’s punishing you and worshiping you all at once.

“who makes you feel like this?” he growls, pace picking up.

“you do—”

“who fucks you this good?”

“you, heeseung, only you—”

he grips your throat from behind, just enough to make you dizzy, just enough to make your legs shake again.

he leans down, lips against your ear. “so why the fuck were you letting those guys touch you?”

you whimper.

“answer me.”

“i—i wanted your attention—”

“you had it. the whole fucking time.”

he drives into you harder, deeper, until you can barely breathe — just whimper and beg and take it. until you can feel yourself coming undone again, heat burning low in your belly, fast and sharp and inevitable.

“gonna cum?” he teases. “already? greedy little thing.”

you nod, desperate. the words are stuck in your throat.

“go ahead,” he whispers. “cum for me, baby. let them hear who you really belong to.”

you don’t stand a chance.

your orgasm hits hard — electric, overwhelming, pulling a sob from your throat. he fucks you through it, still chasing his own release, pace growing erratic. one hand back on your waist, the other tangled in your hair, holding you there while he uses your body like it’s his.

because it is.

and you both know it.

when he comes, it’s with a low groan against your back, hips stuttering, forehead pressed to your spine.

you both stay like that for a second.

silent.

he slips out slowly, letting his hands wander gently down your sides now, soothing the places he’d gripped too hard. he presses a kiss to your spine, then another to your shoulder.

you turn around to face him — flushed, dazed, hair messy and lips kiss-swollen.

heeseung looks at you like he wants to say something.

but he doesn’t.

you just smile at him.

“are you gonna make me breakfast in the morning?” you ask.

he smirks, pulling you into his chest.

“only if you let me fuck you on the counter first.”

© jongst4r, 2025

[jongst4r]

always coming back to when i have a jay request cause your writing is just chefs kiss😫

so can i request smut with jay and f reader where she is just too horny and wants multiple rounds after jay is already worn out and dying to sleep but is still physically fighting for his life cause he cant just say no to her

i’m so glad you always trust me enough to fulfill your wishes 😔 ily anonie <33

warnings: established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t.), oral (m rec.), cum eating, praise, whiny jay, use of petnames, a lot of fluff and love making.

you’re sprawled across his chest, heart thudding against his sternum, the afterglow still warm between you. the apartment surrounds you: the fridge ticking in the kitchen, the city breathing outside the window, a single lamp casting lazy gold over the sheets.

you’ve already taken jay twice tonight — twice until he was slick and shaking and you thought maybe, finally, he’d cave into sleep. but you’re not done. your body’s electric, and the ache between your thighs keeps reminding you that two rounds were only the warmup.

jay’s fingers slide through your hair, thumbs tracing little circles at your nape. his eyelids are heavy; you can see the slow blink of someone who’s been awake longer than he wants. he murmurs something soft, a sleepy promise that you’ll keep going tomorrow, and you lean up, pressing a kiss to his mouth that tastes of sweat. it’s a taste you never get tired of.

“please,” you whisper into the curve of his neck. the word is part plea, part command; you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling him shift beneath you. “one more.”

jay exhales, long and slightly defeated. his voice is breathy. “baby… i am so tired,” he says, half-laughing. “i am literally —” he presses a hand to his face, dramatic. “— dying. you bloody killed me, babe.”

you laugh against him, the sound small and mischievous. you love that he exaggerates; it’s part of his charm. but you also know him — you know that line between playful protest and actual refusal. tonight it’s the former. he fights for sleep the way he always fights for surrender: with softness, with a stubbornness that makes you melt.

you push his shoulder, start to climb into his lap. your hand slides lower, fingers brushing the skin at the base of his spine. “one more,” you repeat, a little more urgent. “please, jay, baby, my love. just one. then i’ll stop. i’ll let you sleep for a week.”

jay makes a face at that and tries to roll you off, but his hand finds your hip and keeps you there, palms warm. “you always say that,” he grumbles. then softer. “you know i can never say no to you.”

you grin with the confidence of someone who’s won a small, delicious war. you press your forehead to his, eyes searching his, wanting the invitation. his eyes flutter, heavy-lidded, but the smile that touches them is steady, indulgent. he’s tired, yes — worn down — but willing. and that willingness is everything.

“fine,” he says finally, voice hoarse. “one more. but you owe me actual sleep after, understood?”

“deal.” you kiss him quick, urgent, and then you push him gently back, angling his legs to slip between them. the contact of him under you is intoxicating: familiar, perfect.

you slide your hand down his body, kissing his chest as you keep grinding against him. you reach for his cock and stroke it, slowly. jay whines, following with a small laugh. you finally rise your hips, guiding him inside you.

you start slow, testing him with the soft rhythm of your hips, feeling the way his body responds. he’s warm, muscles slackened with fatigue but still reactive. you love the slight groan he makes when you find that certain angle where you catch him deep and wide. it makes a little sound that’s half complaint, half praise.

jay’s hands are stupidly gentle — one palms the small of your back, anchoring you; the other finds the underside of your thigh, thumb pressing slow circles in time with your motion. he murmurs encouragements, sleepy obscenities that only serve to take you further. “you’re insatiable,” he breathes, chuckling slightly. “but i love it, fucking hell.”

you lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest, lowering your mouth to his, tasting him between his pants. your kiss is sloppy, full of the heat you can’t contain. you whisper against his lips, “fuck me harder, then?”

jay chuckles, then complies. his hips push up to meet you, not with the force of earlier rounds, but with the steady, aching need of a man who’s accustomed to giving himself up to you. it’s still delicious, though. the way he moves, tired and tender, makes you want to make love to him even more, loving the way his tired eyes lock into your own, a timid smile on his lips.

you build a rhythm together: you ride him, he lifts his hips, your hands tangle in his hair, one of his palms traces the line of your spine down, then slides under your body to cup and guide. you find that he’s still sharp where it counts. you lean over him then, forehead against yours.

“after this,” he whispers, “you better let me die in peace.”

“you wish,” you breathe, giggling. then you dip your head and kiss the hollow under his collarbone, slowly, until he groans and bucks, the sound almost pitiful in its vulnerability. it makes you grin. “gonna make you want more so you don’t regret not sleeping.”

the next motion is instinctive — you rise yourself, forcing him to pull out. you are quick to pull the sheets away, leaning down between jay’s legs to take him in your mouth.

it’s been a while since he’s given himself up like this, and you love how his breath hitches the moment your lips close around him. you move with practiced ease, your tongue rolling and your hand steady at the base, and he surrenders a little more. his eyes close, lids fluttering; he chokes out a string of your name that sends heat straight through your center.

you work him with a soft desperation, alternating between slow, teasing laps and deeper, more urgent sucks. his hands find your hair, then your shoulders, holding you like you’re fragile. the room shrinks until the only sound is his breathing and the slurping of your mouth.

“jesus,” he breathes, voice thick. “you do this just to me, huh?”

you hum around him, the vibration against his skin making him shudder. “just for you.”

and then he’s breathing quicker, hand tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, faster, and he’s not stopping you. he’s not sleepy anymore.

he grips the pillow with his free hand and says your name like a prayer when his hips jerk and he spills warm and hot into your mouth. you swallow everything, lick him clean, and come up for air with a smirk.

he laughs, breathless. you crawl back up over him, straddling his waist, knees on either side, feeling him press his hands to your hips, guiding the next motion.

“so… you’ll give it to me now?” you playfully wink at him.

“i mean, i could sleep right now,” he complains, voice rough, but you can hear the catch under the words. “but okay. one more, just one, then i’m out.”

you bite your lip, pushing down until he’s deep. you set a steady, measured pace, careful not to tire him even more. your hips roll, slow and deliberate, and each stroke draws a noise from him. he’s tired and exultant, like he’s giving his last effort willingly.

jay reaches up and tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling you down for a kiss. he tastes of himself and you, of after and always. “you’re impossible,” he whispers against your mouth, breath warm and damp. “you should be illegal.”

“you love it,” you counter, voice low. “you love me more.”

his laugh is choked. “maybe i do. maybe i don’t.” he teases you, cutting your laugh as he shifts, pushing up to meet you with renewed intensity.

you can feel the small tremors that run through him when his hips stutter, when he hits a sweet spot inside you. he grows louder with each thrust, breath ragged, pleas and little praises spilling from him in between kisses. he tells you, between gasps, how good you look wrapped around him, how he’s going to remember this when he’s trying to sleep tomorrow.

by the time you feel a heat tighten low in your belly, your legs shaking around him, jay’s own body is trembling. he keeps going though; he keeps answering every demand you make with a sound and a motion.

he murmurs filthy little things — how tomorrow he’ll make breakfast while you’re still half-asleep and sore, how he’ll punish you in the morning for wearing him out.

you come hard then. you let out a long moan that dissolves into soft whimpers, fingers clutching jay’s back like an anchor. his name falls from your lips with trembling need. he grinds into you, deeper and more reckless, and the pressure builds until he can’t hold back. with a moan, he follows you, collapsing around you and filling you up.

you both pant, skin flushed, the room spinning a little as your hearts slow. for a moment, the exhaustion wears him over, his eyelids droop, but his mouth keeps smiling in the soft light. he pulls you into his arms, pressing you to his chest until you’re both tangled in the warmth of each other.

“see?” you murmur, kissing his neck softly. “you made it through.”

jay snorts softly, amused and half-asleep. “barely,” he says, voice thick with sleep. then he lifts his head, eyes twinkling with mischief despite the fatigue. “but you promised me sleep. remember that, okay? you owe me a full day in bed.”

you nod, meeting his gaze, savoring the lazy look he gives you. ��i’ll make it up to you,” you promise, planting a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. “i’ll be your perfect, obedient—”

“stop,” he interrupts with a groggy laugh, pulling you closer so your cheek rests against his chest. “don’t try to make me hard again, little minx.”

you roll your eyes, snuggling into him, the heat between your thighs finally fading to a tender ache. you stroke his arm with slow, drowsy fingers, tracing the lines of his muscles as he drifts. the city outside is quieter now; someone laughs down the street and then it’s just you and jay and the low rustling of sheets.

he murmurs your name once, a soft, affectionate sound, and you answer with a sleepy, contented sigh. he presses a kiss to your hairline, then your temple. you talk in half-formed sentences

“see? now you’re the one who wants to sleep.” jay chuckles, kissing your forehead again.

you fall asleep in his arms, heart warm, and for a while, that’s enough.

© jongst4r, 2025

[jongst4r]

NOOOO PARTYING IN THE HOLLYWOOD HILLS (weird screeching moan) ANONNN buttttt it's fineeeee!! And yeah I was the mamma Mia anon 🤡

you’ll stick to boba tea (gnarly) anon then 🫡

also THANK YOUUUUUUUU, you hyped me up so much 😔

[jongst4r]

HEYYYY I WANNA BE 🧋 ANON CAUSE BOBA TEA,GNARLYYYYY

you lost your chance of being “partying in the hollywood hills” anon but okay i guess 😮‍💨 /j

[jongst4r]

Hi! I was the one who asked for the black cat gf ask and let me say, you worked wonders!

Can I be 🐈‍⬛ anon if it’s not taken?

Also, I am so stoked for part two!!

i’m so glad you liked it!!! 🥹, 🐈‍⬛ anon is all yours! <3 i hope you enjoy pt2 too hehehe

[jongst4r]

TAKEN ANONS

  ✧ 🐈‍⬛, 🧋, 🪻

TAGLIST

  ✧ enhypen: @kpopishgirlie,

  ✧ &team: none yet !

(feel free to comment to add you!)

© jongst4r, 2025

[jongst4r]

okay so… your wishes are my command: unsent part 2 is finished! 🥹 thank you soooo much for liking the fic and for asking for a part 2, i’m so glad 🥺

according to my planning, it will be uploaded on wednesday, so stay tuned for it! <3

also, i wanted to let you know i’m opening a taglist for it, so if you want to be a part of it feel free to comment for me to add you!

lastly, i also wanted to tell you that (and i have no idea how this works so bare with me) you can claim an anon! (you know, in case you want me to “recognize” you when you make a request, or just to ramble/talk, idc) so… yup, feel free to go into my inbox anytime!! <3

thank you soooo much again!!!

[jongst4r]

How do you think the Enha boys would react with a spooky little, black cat girlfriend?

anonie this was so cute to write omg <33 i’m a black cat girlie myself so i know exactly what you mean

warnings: none!!

LEE HEESEUNG

he’d be so drawn to the way you’re quiet, but how your presence alone is so powerful. he’s the kind of guy who’d watch you from across the room with this tiny smile, like he’s memorizing every movement. you’d act all uninterested sometimes, but the moment you lean against him or lace your fingers with his, he’d go still, soaking it in like he’s scared you’ll pull away if he moves the tiniest bit. he’d tease you for acting “too cool” but secretly finds your selective affection intoxicating, making him wish for more.

PARK JONGSEONG

jay would be obsessed with you in the most romantic way. he’d make a habit of whispering things like “you know you’re beautiful, right?” just to see you get flustered. he loves your independence but also loves when you let your guard down just for him — it makes him feel chosen. on quiet nights, he’d drape his jacket over you, tuck you into his side, and call you “my pretty kitty” like it’s your name.

SIM JAEYUN

contrary to your facade, jake would think you’re absolutely adorable. he’d call you “my little shadow” because you move so quietly, but then, like heeseung, smile like an idiot when you surprise him with affection. but actually, he’d be the one following you around the house just to catch you curling up with a blanket, and then flop down beside you, saying “you can’t get rid of me that easy.” every small touch from you would be treasured.

PARK SUNGHOON

he matches your energy so well. the two of you could walk together in silence, your hands barely brushing, and he’d feel like that’s the most intimate thing in the world. he’s subtle, but when you rest your head on his shoulder or grab his hand without warning, he’d glance down at you with that faint smirk, like he knows he’s the only one who gets to see this soft side.

KIM SUNOO

sunoo would make it his mission to draw you out of your shell. he’d poke your cheeks, take random pictures of you, and say things like, “you’re so much cuter when you stop pretending you don’t like me.” and then, when you finally wrap your arms around him from behind, he’d freeze for a second before turning around and hugging you back with this warm, lingering squeeze, giggling as he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

YANG JUNGWON

he’d notice everything — the way your eyes soften when you look at him, how your tone changes when you’re being genuine. jungwon wouldn’t call you out on it, but every time you give him affection, there’s a quiet blush on his cheeks. if you ever curled up beside him while he was working, he’d just smile faintly and keep going, but his hand would find yours under the table.

NISHIMURA RIKI

at first, he’d be a little intimidated by your energy, but once he realizes your “spooky” side comes with a deep softness, he’d melt for you. he’d act cool, but the moment you rest your head in his lap or trace patterns on his arm, he’d look down at you like he’s seeing something rare and he’d playfully tease you. and he wouldn’t say it out loud, but he’d love knowing you only open up like this for him.

© jongst4r, 2025