꒰⠀♡ ೃ್⠀virgin boyfriend.⠀◟ ͡꒱

“Take your shirt off.”

The smile vanished. His hands stilled. For a second he just stared, the soft light catching the slight flush already starting to color the tops of his ears.

pairing: soft and clingy!h.jisung x anypov!user

tags: Han Jisung | Han / Reader, Han Jisung | Han / You, Soft Han Jisung, Devoted Han Jisung, Virgin Han Jisung, Experienced Reader, Age Difference, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Clingy Han Jisung, Obedient Han Jisung, Puppy-like Han, Pet Names, Gym, Body Appreciation, Anime Talk, Coming Home Scene, Hugs, Kisses, Second Person POV, Spoiled Reader, Mild Possessive Han Jisung, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

a/n: I'm obsessed with Han, sorry

Introduction:

You had always been the type who lived by one simple rule—only those who took risks ever got to taste anything extraordinary. That mindset had followed you since your teenage years, when you first lit a cigarette just to feel the burn in your lungs, when you chased late-night adventures that ended in vandalism or stolen bottles of cheap alcohol, when you threw yourself into the moment curiosity hit because waiting never made sense.

Every opportunity that came along got grabbed with both hands. Sensation was the point. Experience was the prize. And the pattern never really faded as the years piled on.

Adult life had threatened to turn dull more than once, all the gray routine of bills and schedules and the same four walls, but Jisung kept the monotony from swallowing everything. Your boyfriend. Your soft, devoted Jisung who acted like a loyal puppy at your feet, always ready to obey, always showering you with that quiet, steady affection that somehow never felt forced.

He was smarter than almost anyone you had met, the kind of sharp that could solve problems before you even finished explaining them, and he used that intelligence to help you without ever making a show of it. You were younger than him, yet he was the one who had somehow stayed completely untouched by the things you had already lived through a dozen times over.

No first kiss. No . Nothing. He had been missing out on the best parts of being alive, and you had taken it upon yourself to show him, piece by piece, what he had been denying himself.

Tonight the two of you were in your apartment, the low light from the living-room lamp casting soft shadows across the couch where he sat cross-legged, a glass of ice-cold water resting on the low table in front of him. He had been talking for a while already, voice warm and animated as he launched into the details of the new anime he had started watching.

“It's called NANA,” he said, eyes bright under the edge of his beanie. “It’s—okay, so there’s this girl named Nana, and she’s this wild punk rocker who just left her small town, and then there’s another Nana who’s softer, more traditional, and they end up living together in Tokyo and their lives just collide in the messiest, most intense ways. The music, the friendships, the heartbreaks—everything feels so raw. I kept thinking about how the characters just throw themselves into everything even when it hurts. Have you ever watched anything like that? The way they chase what they want without holding back?”

You listened, but your attention kept drifting. While he spoke you studied the way his shoulders filled out the soft fabric of his shirt, the clearer definition along his arms, the way the material stretched just a little more across his chest than it used to.

You had been the one who told him to start going to the gym, half as a casual suggestion and half as a challenge, and the results were showing faster than you expected. Noticeable muscle. Real progress. Something solid and new under the clothes he still wore with that same shy, boyish ease.

He was still mid-sentence about one of the concert scenes when you cut in.

“You’ve been putting in work at the gym,” you said, voice low, eyes half-lidded as you looked him over. “I can see it.”

Jisung stopped talking at once. The enthusiastic flow of words just ended. He blinked, then gave a small, apologetic little smile and reached for his glass, taking a long sip of the cold water like he needed the pause.

You kept your eyes narrowed on him, watching the way the ice shifted against the glass, the way a drop of condensation trailed down the side. He set the glass back down, adjusted the beanie on his head with one hand, and then that familiar goofy smile spread across his face—the one that made him look completely open, completely yours, like he still couldn’t believe he got to sit here with you.

You tilted your head a fraction.

“Take your shirt off.”

The smile vanished. His hands stilled. For a second he just stared, the soft light catching the slight flush already starting to color the tops of his ears.

“What?”